One of my favorite lessons on my mission was about Ebenezers. In the hymn Come Thou Fount, the author states "Here I raise my Ebenezer, hither by Thy help I've come". What does that mean? In 1 Samuel 7:12, Samuel offers a sacrifice on an altar and then raises a stone in commemoration of the Lord's help. He names it Eben-ezer, which means Stone of Help.
In my life, my Ebenezers are those memorials to God. They are the experiences that have shaped me that I have chosen to use as reassuring witnesses of God's love. Ironically, if you heard me describe some of them, they do not sound like love. They are the hardest moments, some I still cannot fully share without emotion, but I have used them to grow and chosen what they mean to me. Rather than immortalizing the battle as a testament to my trials, I memorialize the victory that allowed me to see and recognize my Heavenly Father.
Today marks five years since I completed the Ebenezer of missionary service. It's been on and off my mind for months that today is my five year mark of being home. In some ways, today is a sad day. It marks the ending of one of the most transformative experiences for me, and it hurts that I'm so far from something I loved so deeply.
But then I think about what those five years have been full of, and I am overwhelmed by the goodness of God. I see the Ebenezers between me and Birmingham, and I feel known and loved by God, and I see His character more than I see a series of events or trials. I see His loving intentions to help me become what He would have me be. My Ebenezers from the past five years are not the cairns I would have predicted would mark my life, but when I look carefully, I see the loving hand of God.
It's been full of deep friendships, meaningful service, coming to know God and myself, and soul-satisfying education. I could not have predicted that this is where I would be when I came home five years ago. And maybe that's for the best. I didn't understand the lessons, difficulties, and mercies that would come my way, and how they would help me know God and myself. I could not have guessed the deep gratitude I would come to feel for accepting and working in His way.
Honestly, one of the things I hate most is when someone refers to their missions as the best thing in their life or when they were the most spiritual. My mission was powerful and changed me. I came home a different woman, and I would not trade any of those lessons I learned. But, if you put God first and fulfill your stewardships with your whole heart, it won't be the only milemarker on the path of discipleship, and I have been blessed to have other experiences that have led me to blossom. My relationships, my church service, my education, my career. All serve to define the simple truth I am still in awe to learn--the truth that God is my Father, that He is good and kind, and that His intentions for me are pure and loving.
Today is not what I would have predicted. Five years ago today, my heart was breaking with the loss of the pure charity I had and felt as a full-time missionary. I sat in the Palmyra temple, asking God if my feeble and often inadequate efforts were enough. And He told me they were. In D&C 110, Christ appears and accepts the Kirtland Temple. That temple has uneven floors, no cohesive theme, uncharacteristic and odd features like broken glass in the walls...yet somehow that serves to testify of ultimate sacrifice and accepting your best as enough. I felt like that was my mission. I gave everything I had. I just wanted to be enough for God. And while He was perfectly aware of every flaw and imperfection, He understood my intentions and accepted it.
Tonight, I sat in the Salt Lake City Temple. I reported to God on my last five years. I told Him about how I'd tried to fulfill my callings, magnify my education, and improve my failings. As I did, what kept coming to mind were the moments when I had put Him first; putting Him first when it wasn't what I wanted, when it wasn't convenient, and when it required more than I thought I could give. Some of these moments were big, and some were seemingly inconsequential. There were more than I expected, and I was so grateful that I have tried in both big and small ways. Tonight, I realized that God has marked these five years not by what I have done, but by who I have tried to become. And I fall short every day. But, every day, I continue to reach for Him and try to trust more. I have come to love and understand Him in beautiful ways, and I am grateful for the Ebenezers I have raised. And while I still feel so unworthy of the fight, and I fear my own inadequacy, I realize each of my Ebenezers are a testament to Him, not to me. And so I continue to fight.
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