Let Them In

4 weddings in 4 weeks! It's been quite an October. From a beautiful, full regalia wedding for over 100 at a ritzy italian restaurant and ballroom with dancing and dinner to a small chapel ceremony I had the privilege to conduct for a few attending family and friends, it's been a loving autumn!

Lin is one of the young men I've had the chance to serve with during my time in Buffalo and his friendship and brotherhood has become precious to me. Scouting with Lin, teaching him and being taught by him, learning about how his Buddhism mingled with his learning about Christianity and Christ's restored church, watching him go to serve his people in Burma, then go to serve a mission in Kentucky -- from start to end, a beautiful journey. I was happy to jump on a plane from Buffalo to Salt Lake to attend the temple sealing in Bountiful, Utah.

If you're not familiar with temple weddings in the Church of Jesus Christ, they're different in a few ways. We say 'sealed' instead of 'married;' we say 'for time and all eternity' instead of 'till death do you part;' instead of standing under an arch, we kneel across an altar; and instead of exchanging vows and rings, we commit to a sacred covenant. The ordinance is considered so sacred that to be married in the temple, we need to be 'temple worthy.' This means we are baptized, striving to keep the basic rules and serving our brothers and sisters.

This can lead to a tricky conversation with family or friends who aren't members of the church since these requirements apply to anyone who would enter the temple and observe the sealing ceremony. Often members will have a more traditional ring ceremony outside the temple, where the sanctity of the temple ceremony is not undercut, but celebrated in an environment similar to a typical wedding where everyone can join and celebrate. But knowing the importance of the temple sealing, close family will often come to the temple even if they can't witness the sealing.

This was Lin's situation, the only member of the Church in his immediate family.

Early October in Utah is normally warm, sunny, and still so I was surprised to wake up on Lin's wedding day to a steely, overcast sky, a stiff breeze, and a persistent wet drizzle. I told my friends that rain on a wedding day was good luck and we excitedly made our way to the beautiful Bountiful temple, nestled on a hill in the rocky mountains. 

The entrance of the temple is flanked by some light cover over tall white pillars. As we walked in, I spotted two figures huddled against the weather beside one of these open pillars. To my surprise, they were Lin's parents! I wasn't surprised they were there, but surprised they were standing outside in the miserable weather! I walked over to them and after we had said good morning, arms crossed against the rain and wind, I asked:

"Why are you outside in the rain?"

"We were told we couldn't come into the temple."

My heart absolutely melted. I took them both and walked them into the temple. I explained that even though they couldn't attend the ceremony, there was a waiting room where they could sit warm and comfortable, with other family members, and we would wait together. What a relieving contrast to step with them from the dark atmosphere of the gloomy weather to a warm waiting room with loved ones. We took off coats, sat, and shared the joy of the special day. After the short sealing ceremony, Lin was reunited with his family, and they celebrated the rest of the day together concluding with a beautiful ring ceremony at their local chapel.

But the poignancy of that moment at the temple has been on my mind ever since.

A simple miscommunication. What it means to not be able to come in to the temple. Lin's parents don't speak much English. Lin had done nothing wrong and was off busy. Through circumstance and misunderstanding, his loved ones had ended up too far outside the temple.

Yes, when we choose to a life of covenants, we will have friends and family who choose a different path, a different faith, a different lifestyle. There will be some things we can't or won't be doing together anymore, and that can cause normal life sadness as we all strive to do our best and find our path.

But how often do we leave those we love too far outside? Too far from the warmth of our love, understanding, and compassion? Worse yet, saying they have done this to themselves, when really we have turned away? Why should our loved ones ever be that far outside of our love and homes and care and thoughts?

If our child has left the church, do we find the opportunities we can to love and support them, to care for and affirm their positive traits, do we bring them as far into the temple of love as we can? Or do we press and needle, harp and push, occasionally reminding them of our disapproval, leaving them in a proverbial cold and gray relationship with us?

If our friend has chosen a different path, do we affirm to them that our love for them remains steady, finding them where their life has taken them, listening and hearing them, rejoicing in their joy and sorrowing in their sorrow, spending warm loving moments together in the foyer? Or do we let them drift away, choosing an easy path of friends who agree with us on all points and ending in a colder, windier life for us both?

If our spouse has doubts about their faith, do we share our compassion at the challenge and learning they're going through, never using our intimate knowledge of their deepest self to push our improvement tips, but instead being a buoy and support to them, increasing our love and care and listening?

To be Christian is to believe in a perfectly forgiving, just, loving, and merciful God. To be Christian is to trust judgment into the hands of such a God, knowing He will be more open, loving, and kind than we have the capacity to be. This allows us to be liberated of a need to judge the goodness or spiritual success of those around us. Wonderfully freed of this human instinct, we are then free to love, to care, and to support those around us, accepting that a constant reminder of what we would have chosen differently for them is not necessary. It was never ours to choose.

One day they may choose to try the covenant path again. Or they may not. That is theirs. What is ours?

Ours is to care for them with a love that is 'first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be entreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and without hypocrisy. And the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace of them that make peace.'