Lessons from the Provo Tabernacle

I write this fervently and more as a message to myself. It is hard for me to post but as I’ve learned, it does no good for me or others to keep what I believe to myself. This is the crux of what I have been working towards for years.  And though I've learned this many times before, it is now my time to completely give up the person I used to be and fully embrace the one I’ve worked so hard to become. It is my turn to be vulnerable.

When I first saw the tabernacle after the fire, I thought it was a valiant effort to try and restore it but it really didn’t matter to me what would happen to it. I was sure construction crews and the money put in by the church would fix it, but I wondered if it wouldn’t be better just to rebuild from scratch instead of use the empty, forlorn looking shell left. It would just be another historical landmark anyway - dedicated to what ‘once was’ and not to what could be.

When it was announced the tabernacle would be made into a temple, I was surprised. I was even more surprised when construction began and the true state of the tabernacle was revealed. There was literally nothing but a bare shell wearing the scars of the fire. A dead carcass in my eyes. Soon, the foundation was removed and the building stood completely supported by stilts underground. The conical tops to the pillars that had once looked so stately, as though they were praising the heavens, were taken off. Surrounded by the dirt created by the construction crew, the brick looked faded and lifeless. The windows were no more. Even the walls which were deemed ‘salvageable’ looked like they could fall down at anytime.

I regret the way I looked at that building just as I regret the similar way I’ve looked at myself and others.

I drove past the soon-to-be temple last night, after a fire of my own. Feelings of all my inadequacies, past and present, haunted me like the soot from the flame. Hopelessness and guilt I felt had burned away all the good inside me. What would be the point in continuing on? Is there really anything in me worth salvaging? Is there really any good that can come from trying to fix me? How can I, in my current state, bless the lives of others as I’ve been asked to do, especially the lives of ones I deeply love? Not only bless their lives, but fix the hurt I had caused by lighting such a fire. I have ruined everything. If only I could be what I ‘once was’. If only I could return to that state where I was confident in my ability to stand up and keep trying. Where everything had a clear answer and the Truth had a strong hold in my heart. If only I could go back to that crucial moment and choose differently. Before the fire. Before the mistakes. I hadn’t felt such a hopelessness in years – I hadn’t felt so alone, so forgotten. Like no one believed in me or loved me. I certainly did not believe in or love myself.

The role I have been called to play in this life is as a support in other peoples’ lives. It is a gift I have to see the good in others, to understand them, and empower them in their efforts to grow. I don't mean that I'm always perfect in doing those things, but they are my responsibility. Thus, the most devastating trials in my life have been the result of me ignoring the prompting of others’ divine potential, and as a result helping them to set a fire. And in the act, I betray myself. I betray my own potential. I set a greater fire within my own soul and all I can do is wait for the flames to die down. It’s terrifying and painful to feel the burn and responsibility and to watch the destruction of myself and others... knowing that it all could have been avoided by truly loving another and not by acting in fear.

But as I looked at the massive construction sight through my tears and anxiety and loss, something else became clear to me. This hopeless looking building was going to be a temple. It once was a place where people came to worship God, and soon it will be a place of highest sanctity. A place where covenants are made for eternity. God’s house. Even after the destruction of it's initial purpose it will be a holier place. It will take a tremendous amount of work. It will take removing the foundation, the very thing that made it stand all this time, to make room for a new one. It will take removing the characteristics that once made it a work of art – the windows, the roof, the embellishments. It will take removing the wreckage from the inside and starting anew. It will mean standing naked where it has always stood in the center of Provo, for all to see the wreckage and to see the work. It will take the loyalty of those dedicated to fixing it -those who believe in its divine potential. It’s potential to not only be restored but to be greater than it ever was.

The reality is, there is no fire in this life that can leave us without hope for the future. The reality is, like the Provo tabernacle, I can be rebuilt for something greater than I can ever imagine. The reality is, Christ’s atonement can fix anything and though there is work to do, choosing to have faith in that power in the midst of the wreckage is the first step. The hardest part may be believing in yourself and believing in Christ. Being rebuilt may require a new foundation and it will definitely require the humility to let the construction crews come and possibly tear more of you down, see you in your most vulnerable state, and take away parts of your life that you never wanted to lose. It is true, the greater the destruction or trial, the more difficult it will be to have that hope. But from the greater trial comes the greater triumph. Everything that once was lost will be given back to you, and it will surpass everything you’ve ever imagined.

For those struggling in the throws of addiction, the loss of faith, the fires that were set without your control (disease, loss of a loved one, tragedy, etc), the cruelties and inherent unfairness of this life, there is hope. For those confused and afraid, who act in fear and not in love, and those who feel their fire will never end, there is hope. I’ve had but a taste of these things and hardly know or understand them all, but I do know there is someone who understands it all and He has a blueprint for you. There may be fire after fire. There will be setbacks - you will make mistakes. Even in your reconstruction you might fail and have to restart. AND there is still hope. Even if you feel there is only one more brick standing in your life, there is still hope. Be patient with yourself. Be patient with those who you know are struggling. Accept the help from others – you cannot do it alone. Not all is lost and it never will be. You have everything to gain. I have everything to gain. From the fire, there is hope. From the fire, I can learn. From the fire, I can start anew.

From this fire, I can be that temple the Lord wants me to become and that I want to become.