Has you heart ever thrilled at this plea uttered in the hymn “Come Thou Font Of Every Blessing?  Have you ever been saddened by the line preceding that plea?  “Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it!  Prone to leave the God I love.”?

A study of Korihor in the book of Alma can help us detect the modern-day Korihor attacks upon us.  The have a familiar ring.  “And many more such things did he say unto them, telling them that there could be no atonement made for the sins of men, but every man fared in this life according to the management of the creature; therefore every man prospered according to his genius, and that every man conquered according to his strength; and whatsoever man did was no crime.” (Alma 30:17)

It is very telling to me that Korihor first seeks to attack the atonement of Jesus Christ, the very root of a Christian life. It shows a cunning that reveals to us that Korihor knew right where to place his darts. He attacks both aspects of the atonement in that paragraph.

The Enabling Power of the Atonement

According to Korihor, whatever talents or attributes we have are not from any divine source, but are merely a fact of who we are. We see this lie all around us in the form of pride. How many truly great people give the credit for their greatness to the Lord?

Nothing gives the lie to Korihor’s notion better than the example of the unlearned young Joseph Smith, Jr., raised to do menial work, with only a brief and incomplete education. This very young man was able to translate, through the enabling power of the atonement of Jesus Christ, the most important witness we have of the true nature of Jesus Christ. He could never have written it, much less translated it, on his own. As the years have gone by, the discoveries of modern scholars have proved again and again that there was absolutely no way Joseph could have known even a miniscule amount of the knowledge required to manufacture such a document. Then there is the time element. Sixty days of translating? It truly boggles the mind. Whenever anyone seeks to question the truthfulness of the Gospel, he need only be reminded of the fact that there were gold plates and they could only have become what we know as the Book of Mormon through divine means.

I have my own personal testimony of the enabling power of the atonement. Before I became dreadfully ill with depression, I was writing columns for Meridian and had published three books, which required a great deal of complicated plotting. They were not great books, but they represented a lot of planning and crafting. When my depression worsened, it was a though a black dutch oven was placed over my head. Everything inside me was black. There was no glimmer of creativity there. And what thoughts I had, simply could not get out of my head onto paper. I tried. I wrote two novels. They were abysmal. I was certain that my depression had taken from me my ability to write. However, when the Lord miraculously cured me four and a half years ago, the very first thing that happened was that I found old manuscripts in various degrees of completion on my computer. One I had started 33 years ago. I prayed hard that the Lord would restore my talent and I went to work. It was hard at first. I had forgotten all the principles I had so painfully learned about creative writing. Through four years, I have struggled with my writing. I know that I am nowhere near the writer the Lord wants me to be, but I know he is teaching me, and that through the enabling power of the atonement, he is making up the difference between the writer I am and the writer I could be. Slowly, the distance between the two is narrowing. He is teaching me line upon line, literally. That 33-year-old novel: The Last Waltz won the 2009 Whitney Award for Best Historical Fiction. During my years of suffering, I had learned the truths about character and morality than enabled me to finish it.

To deny the enabling power of the atonement in our lives, is to actually be a form of anti-Christ– to believe Korihor’s words that who we are and who we become is solely a product of our own genius. Many great men and women could be even greater if they supplicated the Lord for his wisdom and direction in how to apply their God-given talents. This is what Tolstoy believed. He thought that it was the mission of the writer to ascertain what the Lord would have him write, and then to submit utterly to that direction. As a result, he became an epic novelist for all time.

Korihor has to believe that there is no sin.

If he doesn’t believe “that whatever man did was no crime,” things would not work out in his hypothetical reality, because he had stated that there was no atonement. This again shows his basic knowledge of the atonement.

To fail to acknowledge our sins and to repent of them, to refuse to plead with the Lord to allow the atonement to wash us clean, is anti-Christ-like behavior. We may not believe we have done wrong, in which case, we agree with Korihor. Or we may not believe that there is a power in the eternities tBhat could ever wash us clean. This is also a kind of anti-Christlike belief.

If we believe in the fact that Christ knows each one of us and loves us so much that he was willing to suffer for each and every wrongdoing on our part, big or small, then we are willing to set our pride aside and plead for forgiveness. We are willing to change our lives, to attempt to, with God’s help, set aside the natural man and pursue the spiritual in ourselves. (Mosiah 3:19) This is what it means to take upon us Christ’s name. This is what it means to be His.Korihor denies the very existence of Christ

Binding the Modern-Day Korihors

As our world becomes increasingly secular, it is of supreme importance that we constantly remember our Savior. Each Sunday when we commemorate his sacrifice for us, we must stand clean before Him and once again take upon us His name. When bad things happen in our lives or in the world, we must turn to the Lord, not away. We must seek his direction and guidance and succor. We must use our faith, even if it is as small as a mustard seed, to desire to believe. As we detect the presence of Christ and Heavenly Father in our lives when our prayers are answered or our burdens lifted, we become men and women of Christ. Our faith becomes increasingly stronger, and instead of being secular, contented to live in a world without Christ, He becomes our anchor.

We are all in danger of becoming anti-Christian merely through complacency or neglect or pride. Let us watch ourselves. Let us continually petition to the Lord for directions to live our life His way, to take upon us His name, and to radiate His power in this increasingly Godless society.

These steps are the most important ones we can make in our lives.

Celebrating the shortest day of the year, I will be giving away a copy of The Last Waltz: A Novel of Love and War, my Whitney Winner for historical fiction.  In order to qualify for the drawing, all you have to do is subscribe to my blog after midnight on the 21st of December.  The winner will be announced on the 22nd!

Good Luck!

GG

Recently, at a stake conference, Elder Russell M. Nelson quoted the prophet as saying, "The future is as bright as our faith." This is a theme worth examining at this time of the year and at this time in the Earth’s history. All but the most pure-hearted among us are a little stressed at this season, trying to live up to expectations. And the news seems daily more calamitous. However, always on a search for hope, I have been studying various addresses by the brethren in great detail. A theme emerges in nearly every one. It has to do with remembrance and faith.

What is the greatest light?

Not only should we remember the good times, but we should analyze how they came to be. For example, look at the greatest gift we have—the miracle of the atonement and the resurrection of Jesus Christ, our Savior and Redeemer. We tend to use those words almost casually, as part of a formula when referring to our Elder Brother. However, to be rescued from evil, to have our sins wiped clean, and to be redeemed so that we can once again embrace our Heavenly Father with pure hearts, is the greatest hope of mankind. It is indeed the "perfect brightness of hope" that Nephi talks about in the Book of Mormon.

However, what was the price of that gift? Christ’s undeserved, terrible, and unimaginable suffering in the Garden of Gethsemane. Elder Merrill J. Bateman explained to us in a stake conference that the Savior didn’t just suffer for generic sin of mankind as a lump, but that each of us actually passed before Him, scarred with pain and muddied by sin. In some kind of sacred, metaphysical way that we cannot comprehend, He took the suffering and sin away from each of us and placed it on His back, because He knew we couldn’t go forward thus crippled. Being more concerned with us than with himself, He knew that He could bear it, if He just kept true and drew strength to the God who had sired him. He was tried to the greatest extent of his nature and ability. He cried out for relief, at least once that we know of, but then regrouped and bowed once more in submission. Ultimately, after inexplicable agony, He was crucified, and rent the veil between Earth and Heaven in this great atoning act. Surely, nothing was ever more bright and miraculous than His resurrection! It wasn’t just that He conquered death, it was a sign that sin no longer needed to be spiritually deadly for us. Sin was literally killed and went down into the grave with the Savior. But He was resurrected clean and pure! By doing so, He gave us the chance to have the same experience.

What if we don’t understand?

Another example, also quite illustrative for us as mortals, is Abraham. All his hope, promise, and love was in his son Isaac. The entire Abrahamic covenant of celestial marriage and eternal increase for all of his posterity was contained in Isaac, the miracle child of his old age. And yet, he was commanded to place that miracle child of destiny on the altar and slay him! How could he understand this? What part did this sacrifice play in Jehovah’s great plan? It seemed to Abraham that such an act would destroy it! Not only that, but Abraham himself had been placed on the altar, threatened with death by his own idol-worshipping earthly father in a ceremony that was abominable to this same God. But, because Abraham, like Jesus Christ, was entirely submissive, he endured that unspeakable pain and bewilderment and prepared to follow this commandment. Can you imagine his joy when the Lord stayed his hand at the last moment?

King Benjamin tells us that the only way we can "become a saint through the atonement of Christ the Lord" is to "become as a little child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon [us] …"

(Mosiah 3:19)

This is a telling scripture. Chapter 26 in the Gospel Principles manual states " through sacrifice can we become worthy to live in the presence of God. Only through sacrifice can we enjoy eternal life. Many who have lived before us have sacrificed all they had. We must be willing to do the same if we would earn the rich reward they enjoy.

We may not be asked to sacrifice all things. But like Abraham, we should be willing to sacrifice everything to become worthy to live in the presence of the Lord." (Emphasis added)

How do we develop the faith to be tried as Abraham?

According to the brethren’s addresses that I have researched, the key to this kind of faith is that we are tried line upon line and learn precept upon precept. This is where our remembrance becomes key. Look back at your life.

· Do you see a life of trial or a life of miracles?

· Did the trials come first or the miracles?

· When was your learning curve the most steep?

· Why does the Lord say that "faith precedes the miracle?"

Many people looking at the vast amount of trials visited upon them have felt misunderstood, picked on, abandoned by God, and harshly dealt with. If they stayed true, however, as Abraham did, as Christ did, they were finally able to see that the trials, though completely bewildering at the time, were actually the stairs to miracles.

We don’t develop Abrahamic faith in an instant. That was why the five wise virgins could not impart of their oil to the five foolish virgins. It was impossible to give a lifetime of learning by faith to another person.

For many years I suffered bi-polar depression and PTSD. There seemed to be no reason for it at all. It was a dysfunctional element in our family and in my marriage. At times, I held on to the decision to live only by the tips of my fingers. It was a trial I passed through alone, misunderstood, and without hope. However, after some quiet rebellion against the Lord, I finally followed Elder Holland’s advice ("Broken Things to Mend", Ensign, May, 2006) and put my whole life on the altar, covenanting to the Lord that I would be submissive in all things. I gave up my fears. Then after this twenty-five year trial, the miracle came. Advanced medicines were developed and put into my hands. I woke up one morning and with a deep feeling of well-being I had never known, realized that I lived in a beautiful world. The miracle had occurred, just as my strength was finally failing me.

As I looked back on my life, I could see that it had always been this way. The big things in my life: my conversion, my marriage, the births of my children, and now my healing had all come about after an intense trial of my faith, and then by way of miracles.

And this, that I might know thee, the only true God and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent.

I have come to the conclusion that the steps to Abrahamic faith are a series of seemingly unsolvable and bewildering trials followed by miracles that only God could have performed. This that we may know that only God could have blessed us in this way. Each time our faith is rewarded our faith is strengthened. Remembrance of this deliverance is what buttresses our faith. The more miraculous deliverances from trial that we experience, the stronger our faith becomes, until we literally live by faith.

Is there anything more important in this life than learning to know Elohim and Jehovah? That is the whole reason we came to the earth.

When I was writing The Last Waltz, I had great trouble understanding the horrible tragedy of World War I. I didn’t know how I, a housewife in the 21^st century, could possibly understand what a hideous experience the Europeans had passed through. Then the Lord taught me an important truth which I phrased in my book as an exchange between my heroine Amalia and her faithful friend, Louisa. Amalia is reeling from the senseless death of her soldier husband the consequent suicide of her mother-in-law.

"Part of faith is not giving up hope for a better world," [Louisa] said finally.

"But life is such a bitter gift!" [Amalia]

"At the moment, it seems like it. This is a very dark passage you are in. But it would be a mistake to see that passage as your whole life. There is nothing in this world more deceptive than darkness. You think you live in a void, but actually there are colors and textures and beauty all around you."

"I don’t want to see them . . ."

"Because you thing that it will hurt."

"Yes!"

"That is the lie of the darkness." She smiled and took Amalia’s hand. "The price we pay for immortality is to know both this darkness and the light and to choose between them."

When I remember and relive the miracles in my life, I see that they could never have occurred except by the hand of God. And I also see that until I had learned the lesson from the trial that preceded each miracle, I never would have learned to know the Lord in my extremities. The purpose of life if not to find perfection or to live free of pain. The purpose of life is to choose Light and follow it, embracing it so that the darkness cannot have any hold on us in the eternities.

Every marriage is a web of complication with many aspects that go into weaving the fine interlocking thread.  Our genetic makeup as well as our childhood years and past relationships combine to create the role we play in the give-and-take of a marital relationship.
When we first meet our spouses-to-be, we might be wearing rose-colored glasses so to speak. We might fall in love with the person we “think” they are. We might share our backgrounds, including our past relationships, but none of our personal history matters much to the person we are in love with. We have connected. We have become soul mates. And everything from this point on is just about us, just about our two-person universe, and nothing from the past can ever intrude.

Until the flashbacks start.

Annalisse has been married for several years to Dennis. They have a young boy and another child on the way. When Annalisse first met Dennis, she saw him as her saving anchor to root her into a stable reality, opposite of her previous stormy relationship. She clings to him as a boat in stormy waters relies on its anchor. She wants a change—a massive change, and that includes locking her past away.

Dennis knows he’s met someone unique and special when he is set up with Annalisse. A past relationship has broken his heart, but Annalisse is vastly different. She is stoic, she is trustworthy, and she is everything he needs to heal his heart. There is no question that they are meant to be together, and Annalisse will always be his one and only.
Their relationship collides when Annalisse starts to experience painful flashbacks into her past, crippling her from being content with her current married life. The pain is so intense, it threatens to pull Annalisse from all that she loves. She is too afraid to confide in her husband—sure that it will destroy their relationship. While Dennis is trying to understand his wife’s changed behavior, he is fighting against an industrial firm that is trying to cover up a toxic waste dump.

GG Vandagriff once again explores the intensity of human emotion, delivering a powerful story of second chances, the gift of forgiveness, and the depth of true love. This well-crafted story is absorbing from page one and the characters powerful and relatable.
Pieces of Paris is a literary symphony, a cacophony of words that delves into the hearts of all of us, as Annalisse and Dennis fight to reestablish the rhythm of their marriage. An emotionally-engaging and unforgettable journey.

For a fun afternoon with or without kids (if you live in the Salt Lake or Happy Valley area) come to the KSL Book Festival this Saturday, August 28!  See http://www.readtoday.com/ksl-book-festival/ for details.

I am one of the few “for adults” authors and will be signing (alas not Pieces of Paris as they claim) but all of my other books at 4:00 pm.  You can meet my charming mother-in-law in town from Iowa and get some great candy plus pick up a gorgeous bookmark that we’ll use for the upcoming Pieces of Paris launch.

On the last day of our cruise, I looked at the back of my hair, which I had been growing out for six months after a really bad haircut.  It was finally almost one length in a neat bob.  People had even been known to compliment me on it.  However, it needed a slight trim in the back.

Thus my meeting with Kristina, the self-acknowledged genius with hair.  “Why they cut it this way?” she said, after combing me out following my shampoo.  I shrugged and said, “I just want a trim.  No layers or anything.”  I guess it was the language barrier. Like I said, she was a Macedonian.

After fifteen minutes of furious snipping, my sixth month’s growth lay on the floor.  In the back, my hair is not half an inch long.  At the crown, it is perhaps two.  I have become GG the poor waif.  “See?” she proclaimed, “I am the genius!”

Someone at dinner (everyone was there for a change) said, “GG did you cut your hair?”

I began to have separation anxiety and had to take a tranquilizer.  I thought it was because we were approaching the end of our cruise, but now I think it was a belated reaction to my haircut.

The debarkation went like clockwork the next morning.  Once we hit the pavement, I was forcibly reminded that we were no longer being coddled but were at the mercy of the Italians, Venetian Italians, who are different than Florentines.  Someone forgot to get out of bed and come to man the ticket booth for the vaporettos.  An entire ship was unloading and most of us had no plan to spend 80 Euros (120 dollars or so) for the short trip to the center of town.  However, after wilting in a long line, I thought of my father  He left me a small inheritance.  Would he let me stand around for over an hour waiting for someone to open a booth to buy a ticket or would he spend the 80 Euros?  I made up my mind.  I told David we were taking a water taxi.

Our hotel turned out to be vintage 1950 with an elevator!  A small bar, a walled garden outside our room, and a very peculiar sit down shower completed its idiosyncratic charm.  We were out exploring Venice in no time.  I think David has lost his heart.  I tried to warn him, but he was not prepared for the glorious pastel baroque splendor of the magnificent city.  That day, my father also paid for a glorious Murano glass beaded necklace and earrings in the traditional Venetian blue and gold.

And what is Venice without Vivaldi?  Of course, there was a concert, our concierge said.  Right on St. Mark’s square in a little chapel there.  After a dinner that had nothing to recommend it except expedience, we journeyed to the chapel where we had a third row seat of the most magnificent “Four Seasons” I have ever heard.  It was a lovely evening.  Venice redeemed herself.

The train to Florence the next morning was amusing owing to the fact that our seats were in the middle of a group from the cruise.  Unfortunately, they hadn’t enjoyed it much, which was completely past my understanding.  I reassured them that they would love Florence.  (I wonder if now they are cursing me).

When we walked out of the train station, I swear it was as though we had never left.  The scooters, the traffic, the tourists were all there.  But so was that vitality which captured my heart six months ago.  Elisabetta ran all the way down the stairs at our B & B to greet us with many many kisses.  We went upstairs and talked like friends who hadn’t seen each other for years.  She had given us our same room.

Our first stop was, of course, the central market where my father bade me buy a lot of things, most of which were gifts, but David finally broke down and allowed me to buy a set of Tuscan salt and pepper shakers.  (I am in hopes that this is the beginning of a slippery slope.  I have loved Tuscan dinnerware since I came of age.)

Now it is twilight of our second day.  I am sitting on my balcony under the blue, blue sky and a soft breeze is blowing.  We have been for a long, long Italian luncheon at our favorite restaurant on the Arno, followed by a stroll through our favorite museum,  I am sorry to report that last night I had yet another fall (and was raised by no fewer than seven Florentines).  My hips are not in the best of shape, so we had a nap.  What can I say?  We were tired and slept til seven,  Time is precious here this visit, but I know that I will be back.

I’m having separation anxiety.  Shortly we go down to our final dinner on the Princess.  Even though I’ve been sick and sore most of the time, it has been magnificent.  This is the experience of a lifetime.  And if it weren’t for my Crazy Ladies,  I never would have done it.  What a debt I owe them!

They have never been far away and I have spent a lot of time writing because that is one way I relax.  Having your meals prepared and your cabin cleaned while you just sit and write away is my idea of a heavenly vacation.  Not to mention all the splendid side trips.

Happily, I will be revisiting my journey for many months to come as I compose my Crazy Lady adventure surrounding this cruise.  That’s one of the greatest things about being a writer—you can share your dreams with your readers and everyone you love.

Brits are always going away on what they call a “repairing lease,” which as far as I can tell means a relaxing vacation.  Today we found the perfect place.  Corfu, an Island on the west side of Greece.  It’s by far my favorite Isle as it is green!  It is also temperate year round..  Ths is the Isle where Odysseus was imprisoned for 20 years–some prison.!

The island has been under so many rulers and invaded so many times that I can’t count them.  However the principle characteristic of its capital city is charm.  The streets are so narrow, you can only walk down them single file.  Even so, the towering apartments have window boxes filled with flowers.  The city is built in what looks like 19th century Italian style with pastel buildings trimmed in white and huge bougainvilleas in magenta trailing over the doorways and windows.

The sea is impossible to describe.  The closest I can come to its color is to say it’s a clear aquamarine.  I’m hoping David’s pictures will do it justice.  The coastline is magnificent with thousands of olive trees and my favorite–the cypress.  The cliffs and bays are too picturesque for words.

I couldn’t resist.  I took off my shoes and went wading in the Ionian Sea!  It was so lovely that I was in danger of stripping down and swimming in front of a busload of German tourists.  I think I probably could have scheduled a tour that included a motorboat ride around the island, but I missed the boat (he he).

We were back by noon and ate out on our little balcony.  I am still sore from my fall yesterday, so I am going for a hot stone massage in a few minutes.  Ahh, this is the life.  If anyone had told me 5 years ago that I would be on a cruise in the Eastern Med funded by money I earned myself from my writing, I would have thought they were nuts!  It has been 4 years since my healing, and the Lord has not wasted one moment of that time without blessing me.

Tonight we will celebrate life and its goodness at the Crown Grill-the fanciest restaurant on board.  Tomorrow is a sea day, which we will spend packing and sleeping and eating and writing.  David is really helping me trim my chapters of Crazy Ladies and sharpening my opening descriptions.

I am happy to be with you again, and am grateful to David for filling in so we could keep all of you “posted” on this amazing voyage.  After an entire day of sleeping, I think I’m back.

As any student of Western Civilization knows, recorded thought in our sphere began with the Greeks, specifically Plato, Aristotle and Socrates.  By some kind of rare miracle, the place where they walked and talked still exists.  Despite hoards of Turks, Venetians, Macedonians, and Nazis, the Parthenon, temple to the Goddess Athena, still stands.  The worst thing that ever happened to this marvel of ancient architecture is that the Turks used it as a munitions dump and when the Venetians invaded, they actually blew it up!  Modern buildings would surely never survive such treatment.  But the Parthenon still stands, metaphorically bloodied, but unbowed.

In Florence, I wrote of the “rebirth” of modern civilization, but in Greece we see the actual birth.  These architects built solely from their own imagination–they had nothing to guide them and only thought to inspire them.  With geniuses like Pythagoras discovering geometry and philosophers like Plato discussing the “ideal” they were able to combine thought and math and create a temple like no other ever discovered.  It stands, as everyone knows, on the Acropolis, high above the modern (and unfortunately quite ugly) city of Athens.  The juxtaposition is a interesting contrast regarding the values of modern day Greeks.

I have a thing about columns.  They absolutely fascinate me.  I was thrilled to discover the point where I could look at the column on the corner of the temple that I faced and see that the columns behind it were not visible.  They were lined up in such a way that they appeared to be one column.  That is a mathematical trick, for if they were truly lined up, the other columns would be visible.

It was hard to wrap my mind around the idea that this was where modern thought began to unfold and where democracy was conceived.  Last time I visited, there were soldiers with machine guns on the acropolis and we didn’t get to climb it.  This time, the economy was teetering and anarchists were rioting.  It was much too hard for me to reconcile these things in my mind.  Are the modern Greeks really the descendants of the ancients?

We then traveled to Corinth, but at a stop on the way I had to perform my new trick of falling down.  I made it as dramatic as possible, and of course fell on the same knee I always fall on.  Modern Greeks spend very little money keeping the Roman sidewalks up to date!  I stepped in a hole, turned my ankle, and sprawled on the sidewalk.  Fortunately, nothing was broken, and my goal of climbing the Acropolis had already been achieved.

When we arrived at the ruins of Corinth we went to the excavation of a famous marketplace with accompanying baths.  A little the worse for wear, I paused under an olive tree and watched as the group went on ahead.  Finally I was able to follow, and ended up staring at a plaque I could not understand.  David came up behind me and told me that that marked the very place that Paul had stood when accused by the Jews of heresy.  Their rulers, the Romans (of whom  Paul was one), could find no fault with him as he spoke there in that spot in his own defense.  They released him, and he went on to create a large branch of Christendom in Corinth.  (Thus his letter to the Corinthians).  It was the Sabbath, and David and I both had the feeling that we were standing on holy ground.  This feeling had eluded me on the Acropolis in the temple to a pagan Goddess, but here in this ruined marketplace where David and I stood alone, we felt it.  Paul’s writings on grace have helped me many a time, and I was humbled to be standing where he had once stood.

This was called the Bema and was originally a few feet taller.  Paul stood in front of this structure, speaking up to the Roman official, who was standing on top of the Bema.