Policy or Doctrine?

Is it policy or doctrine?  Is the rule something we use now because of circumstance or is it a divine law eternally?  How do we know?  Are we meant to?  What about issues that are not covered by either, only by uncodified opinion of the masses?  These things worry me.
Public policy of a government is often surrounded by rhetorical reasoning and emotion that practically seduces us into subjection.  And political doctrine we simply call law.  No eternal kingdom could exist with such frivolous attempts at control.
Doctrines have existed before this life and will always be in effect, even influencing the identity of God.  They are often easy to identify because of their eternal nature.  If something has been always and will be always then it must be doctrine.  But our vision is awfully limited to chronological distance.  I wonder if Jews thought the Ten Commandments and subsequent Law were eternal in nature.  Many forms of Christianity I've learned from certainly seem to feel that the New Testament has always existed.  Maybe not in its present form, but certainly in its ideas and discussion.  And yet there are obvious cases where what was felt to be doctrine was really just policy.
The Judaizers in 1 Corinthians strongly felt that circumcision was a doctrine.  It was required of the patriarchs and their families' so it followed that it must be required still.  But Paul does a wonderful job explaining the difference between the law and faith and how the two must work together for our salvation (not just our cleansing).  Also, how such sacrifices were no longer required after the sacrifice of the Lamb.  Circumcision was a policy, but it was a policy for thousands of years!  It would require sight much sharper than most (certainly sharper than mine) to recognize this as mere policy instead of doctrine.
Polygamy was a policy.  This is quite confusing because it was a policy taught several times by several people, all inspired by God for their time.  How do you deduce policy from doctrine when they come from the same source, the leader of the church (who in turn, receives it from the Lord)?  But why was it apart of the church?  Why then?  I've heard a plethora of suggestions.  So many man had fallen in battle and someone needed to take care of their young widows.  One recent theory that appeals to me is that the church needed something it could sacrifice to man to become accepted.  It is quite difficult to help those who despise you.  So many Americans and groups opposed the church in the mid-19th century.  Polygamy could have been used as a scapegoat for their aggression and once the church stopped the practice we we were more accepted as pretty decent folk.
The next issue for us is homosexuality.  Doctrine or policy?  There is some doctrine on the matter, it is just as any other sexual sin and it has the same consequences.  I can find little doctrine beyond that.  The policies are a little fuzzier, especially when there are no policies and we substitute our own opinions.  Anyone can be a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints if they are willing to make sacred promises and keep them.  Anyone can attend sabbath services.  An openly gay man can hold a leadership position in the church (I've heard of several cases in California, no surprise).  But do gays and lesbians feel accepted at sacrament meeting?  It isn't policy to make anyone feel uncomfortable at church and it is certainly not doctrine to turn someone away, but do we sometimes enforce this as a unspoken rule?  I feel confident I can say some LGBTQ's feel just fine in our churches, which is only a start.  Why would some not feel comfortable?  Since this is a church of charity and accepting others as beautiful individuals, what affect can I have to put the church in a position to change policy and non-policy?
I can do nothing to change another person's mindset or their decisions, but what I can do is help them feel loved and comfortable.  If I did all I could to help someone feel a part of this family they would still be able to choose whether or not they wanted to be there, but at least I gave them that choice.  If I ostracize someone because of their sexuality (or race or number of children or workplace or anything) then I effectively take away their choice on whether to be at church or not.  Yes, they could still show up each week with their head held high and stand valiantly against my ridicule and rudeness, but those individuals are few.  (not many actually like the fire.  Being thrust in for a moment by another force is one thing, but how many willingly choose to step up onto the pyre and burn?)
So we must love people, everyone, openly and fiercely.  Just as I cannot force a gay man to feel comfortable in a church, I cannot force a congregation to accept him in their church.  But if I love him and treat him as the wonderful brother and equal that he is, others will eventually treat him the same.  I hope.  Not all will.  But I can help some of that congregation feel more comfortable, more trusting, more accepting.  That is the start.  If I'm consistent in my treatment of him (and everyone else, for that matter) as a loved sibling who is unique in his trials, his feelings, his thoughts, his goals, and his abilities then I can start the cycle we need.
We change policies day by day, choice by choice.

Old Poems

First, random thoughts:
I kinda dread fashion.  I try to look nice but do not care enough to figure out how.  Some days I just get lucky.  Male fashion at BYU is fairly ordinary, except for Taggart who always looks great in a vest (at least every time I've seen him).  The gals on the other hand, crickey!  High-waisted skirts?  Rather strange.  I'd like most of them, length and design, if they weren't clinging to their rib cages by a ridiculously wide belt.  But I'm just a long skirt kind of guy.  It sways.  Remember the curtain that hid the Wizard of Oz.  That is what skirts do for me.  It is the gentle notion that I really have no idea what is under there but it must be powerful and beautiful to move the rest of her.  Is that the adventurers' spirit?  The beauty in mystery.  Will it still be as beautiful once it is realized?
Snow is great.  I love snow.  Everything about it really.  It is better than rain because it doesn't necessarily get you wet.  It is cold and helps me clear my head.  You can build with it.  You can throw it.  Snow is the lego of winter.  You can do anything with it.  It is even great for washing your hands (because the ice is rough and scrapes off gunk but it melts too so it removes it too)  And it is beautiful.  So serene.  This last week it snowed one afternoon and as I looked at the mountains the snow line was just below the Y.  It looked like someone had taken a giant paint roller over the top half of the mountain with white, but only once so that there were still some spots bare.  I really appreciated the sight.

This morning I stumbled upon a random book of poetry (from 80 years ago!)  Still in good condition.  Flipping through it, I found two of my favorite poems, "O Captain, My Captain" and "Horatius."

"O Captain, My Captain" is one of those poems that comes to mind over and over.  It is like the game or "Here Comes the Sun," so many events connect to it that it has a certain sorrow to it, a certain reflection.  Generally events revolving around death, such as Gordon B. Hinckley's passing, but even when President Jardine's mission ended it was in the forefront of my mind.  The poem amazes me because it shares so much excitement and disappointment.  The victory was won, they were home, everyone was safe.  Well, every was safe except the captain.  The best among them was the fallen, the sacrifice.
Increasingly I see Christ all around me.  In the beauty of mystery, one reason I love the Gospel is that there is always more to learn, understand, and share.  In the snow, I doubt it was just for me but knowing that Heavenly Father loves me enough to send a little snow to a boy in need of memories means a lot.  He also loved me enough to send someone more pure than snow to cleanse me without the cold.  We're gonna make it home because of our Captain.  We will all reside in safe harbors someday because our Captain led us there.  Even for those who do not like Him, they are on His boat and will arrive safely to shore where they can then decide to leave Him and His crew.  He loves them enough to give them that choice.  I hurt when I read this poem.  It is a good hurt.  A necessary hurt.  I hurt when I, step by step, find parallels and symbols of Christ's sacrifice.  It is a good hurt.  A necessary hurt.  Probably what hurts the most is wondering who will I captain and will I do the same for them?

My father has memorized several poems.  As he has aged some have steadily slipped from his mind.  I remember long rides through the countryside of Nebraska and hanging on every line of the "Jabberwocky" as he recited it.  Another childhood favorite was "Horatius," a real hero of ancient Rome (actually, the word "hero" is derived from his name.  At least that is what dad always told me and I'm not about to find out if it is wrong).  The poem is rather long but weaves a wonderful story.  A gruesome fight.  Rome might fall.  Three heroes step forth to defend the bridge.  The townsfolk start tearing the bridge down as the three fight off enemy after enemy.  The bridge is almost down and the city is almost secure.  The townsfolk cry out to the heroes to return.  Horatius stays to make sure.  He is wounded, a deep slash to his thigh.  The only way home now is death or to swim across the swollen river that is to be the cities salvation.  He leaps in.  Allies and enemies cheer him onward as he swims and struggles.
What hits my heart is the depth of the poem.  It is no philosophical subject, it tells the story of a fight and some heroics.  But the details are so easily processed that you can see everything going on.  You throw yourself into the story, fearing you'll miss out an ounce of the adventure.  The immersion is so deep that you find the messages that are not there in words but in paintings.  Would I have stood with the three?  Would I have gone back when my battle was done?  Would I have given praises to God when my enemy made it home?  These are tough questions for me.  I will never have to fight with a sword.  The stands I might be called to make will probably involve no tool of death.  Words will be fired.  Conceptions will be cut apart.  Can I stand together?  Can I stand alone?  I find it dangerous to think "I can do it because Christ could do it" because it leads me to "if Christ could do it, I can too."  That is not true.  But I do know that I can accomplish anything in front of me as long as I'm doing it for the right reason (which also means there are things I cannot do because there is no right reason for doing it), the Lord gave me at least that much power.

Count Your Many Blessings

This was a stressful weekend, until I let myself rest. The Sabbath means a lot to me. It did not always. I remember one time, as a child, being so angry about having to get ready to go to church that I used the railing on my bed as a battering ram into the wall. My parents were not happy. I do not remember the punishment. I am embarrassed that I every felt so agitated by church. I also remember Eric telling me that worms were now able to crawl through the hole at night and that they kissed me on the lips while I slept (I still maintain I had the greatest childhood ever).

In an act of extreme mercy, this weekend was building up to be one of the most stressful of school so far. Of course it was also General Conference. I have decided that more and more I need to take each moment as it comes and people and adventures over rest and personal advancement. There are exceptions. Not going to Las Vegas was a difficult but important one. Our house was invited to attend breakfast and the Saturday morning session with some fantastic girls from our ward so I went to that. Then someone decided we should go up to Salt Lake City and watch the afternoon session in the Tabernacle. So we went up there. Then we found Merritt and several friends from Prescott (it was really good to see him again). Then we went to dinner and started heading to Priesthood session. We had two tickets and seven guys. By the time we got to the Conference Center we had seven tickets. They came from everywhere. Girls from Prescott, friends we brought with us from Provo, strangers as we walked. It was miraculous honestly. On the way home we stopped by the home of an old friend of Merritt. She fed us peaches and raspberries. Fantastic. Then we got home just before midnight.

Sunday was similar. We watched the morning session with the gals from the previous morning. We watched the afternoon session at our apartment from a projector Travis borrowed. Then we went back to the gals apartment for a fantastic dinner one of them (Zina) put together. Then went back to our place to set up Spiritual Sunday Cinema.

Things I needed to do on Saturday:
Study for an art test on Monday and memorize at least sixteen different pieces of art by name, artist, and date.
Research and write a paper on dance history. The research had to be done at the library.
Study for my geography midterm on Monday.
Find my wallet.
Find a date or make plans for a date this week since they fell through again...

Things that the Lord did for me this weekend:
My dance paper got moved back to Wednesday.
My geography midterm got moved back to Thursday.
I found my wallet in a pair of shorts I had worn last week.
I was able to get to sleep relatively early on Sunday and took several short naps while studying all morning and might have done alright on the test, though I do not know the results yet. Honestly, I felt like I made very basic and shallow points but I do not know if they were the points that I was supposed to make. But I got the studying done that I needed.
Plans for dates are in action.

He is a pretty amazing Lord. I do not know why things work out the way that they do, but it is a miracle. For that, I am thankful.