Walking in the footsteps of Jesus

A long time ago in a place far, far away I was asked to participate in a young woman’s program called ’Walking in the Footsteps of Jesus’. I had heard of this activity and it was always spoken of in reverence and awe. The idea was that the leaders would get 10 or so people and give them an assignment to portray a person who had crossed paths with the Savior whale he was on this earth. Those assigned would then portray that person acting as if, in fact they, themselves had met and talked with Christ. For example the blind man that was healed outside the gate, or the woman at the well. I was asked to portray Nephi from 3^rd Nephi one of the twelve that was called in the Book of Mormon to be his Disciples.

No script was provided but rather we were instructed to prayerfully search the scriptures and come up with a 5 min testimony for our assigned person, (Nephi) then give that testimony in the first person.

I am a welder not a thespian! These young ladies were counting on an awesome spiritual experience. Well I’m just me that’s all and that’s all I can give them. I did however want to give them the best I could. So I began early, not like usual putting it off till the hours before and throwing something together. I had heard these young ladies bear their testimonies after the last time and they had all been lifted up by this experience and I didn’t want to be the cause of it falling short this time. So I started reading that part of the Book of Mormon over and over until I about had this meeting of Nephi and the Savior memorized. Still feeling like I needed more “prepping” I read ‘Tennis shoes and the feathered Serpent’ well at least the parts about the coming of Christ to the Americas.

I prayerfully began to write my 5 min presentation all the while wanting, and hoping that on the night of the activity, Nephi would (somehow) be there to testify first hand in his own words, that he had indeed talked with Christ. I even made it a subject of all of my prayers. I did come up with a good testimony taken from the scriptures and I personally had received a testimony of Nephi’s experiences with Christ but still wanted the girls to really feel Nephi’s own, real, true testimony.

The day came and I was fasting, so sure that “I” would get in the way of this awesome message that Nephi would want these girls to know. I got there early and changed into my “Nephi Clothes”. My younger brother had served his mission in the Philippines and had brought home a really cool boar tooth necklace and a manly robe/moo-moo thing that looked appropriate. Finishing it off with some Doc Marten sandals, the outfit looked pretty good I must say. I hoped that Nephi was not too upset that they had picked a pleasantly plump welder to play his part. They put me in a room with 10 or 15 chairs set up in a semi circle facing me. I then knelt down in the corner and asked that this room might be blessed and sanctified so that the spirit could dwell there that evening, and testify to all comers of the truthfulness of Nephi’s testimony. Then added one last time my final plea that Nephi himself might be there and somehow do this for me. I just didn’t want to mess this up, for the girls or Nephi. I felt peace and received a promise that if anyone hearing my voice that night would pray about it and ask Father, they would in fact receive the same witness I had received as to the truthfulness of these things I quickly added that same promise to the end of my prepared testimony.

I felt I had done all in my power to be ready. “Will I remember what I had written? Is this what Nephi would want to say if he were here? Will the spirit testify to these people of the truth?” (O Ye of little faith) I kept saying over and over in my mind. You see as I had prepared for this night, I had come to know and now bear my testimony of the fact that, Nephi of 3^rd Nephi had seen and spoke with the Savior, had felt the nail prints in his hands and thrust his hand into the Saviors side and that he was then and is now a witness of the Savior Jesus the Christ. I wanted everyone that could hear my voice to know the same, and I did not want to diminish that or take away from that message in the least degree.

 Soon the first group arrived. I was so nervous. I poured my heart out in prayer right up to the very instant I opened my mouth to speak. Instantly as I spoke, warmth, love, peace, confidence and power flooded over me as I bore testimony of the Savior. Tears flowed as I recounted the testimony I had prepared from the scriptures. I thought for a second “Is this testimony I am giving, ok with Nephi?” a thought echoed back “Where did you get the words for this testimony?”

“From the pages of the Book of Mormon.” I responded “Who do you think wrote those words?”

Thinking for a half second I sheepishly said “Nephi?” “That is right. These words you are giving are in fact his very testimony and ’yes’ he is pleased.”

Now of course to all of you that makes sense, but to me I guess, I had never really made the connection until then, that real people with real lives and real experiences had taken their turns writing this book and those words were in fact his. That it wasn’t just a story book. I mean I knew, but in my childlike mind I didn’t KNOW, if that makes any sense.

As the night went on I basked in the glow of the spirit, completely comfortable and confident. Until about the 7^th or 8^th group came in and sat down. As I began I did not feel the spirit there as a matter of fact, I felt it leave. I was struggling to find the words that had flowed so freely all night, I was now very nervous and started to sweat. I began praying in my panic, “Why have you left me? What did I do? I must have done something wrong, please forgive me. Please come back I need you and cannot do this without you!”

My attention was brought to two young ladies sitting at the end of the row and I knew that the spirit had to leave when they came in. As I spoke I pleaded with the lord to let the spirit come back. He could not. I guess it’s kind of like light and darkness; they both can’t be in the same place at the same time.

Now I would just like to say that I did not know these young ladies and can’t remember anything about them, nor did I care what these young ladies had done, or whether it was big or small. They did not look “bad” or out of place, just same-ol normal beautiful young woman in the Church of Jesus Christ. I felt nothing but love and concern for them and the rest of the group.  I just knew that one of these groups of about 10 young ladies were being deprived the same spiritual experience as the rest of the groups. They couldn’t feel the same witness as everyone else. I wanted them to hastily repent and return to the light.

After the night was over I talked to one of the other presenters and asked if she had noticed any differences in the groups. She said that there was one group that she didn’t feel the spirit. This made me think of how the adversary whispers in our ears that “No one will know.” Or “It doesn't hurt anyone else so what does it matter.” Along with a million other lies he uses to persuade us. But from this experience we can see that the things we do in secret do affect others and in fact, can’t remain hidden. That thought also brought me to the awareness the opposite is true as well. When we are doing what we should and have the light of Christ with us, others benefit in this same way.

After this night was over, and from then on whenever we look up a scripture or quote a verse in 3^rd Nephi I always say “That’s my Nephi”. You see I have come to know him personally through this experience and he now feels like an old friend that I have spent afternoons with or sat with and shared dinner or maybe a story or two. My heart is warmed every time I read his words and I feel again that same burning of the truthfulness of his words that I was so blessed to share in for a brief second.

This very joy that comes to me at the very mention of his name also strangely condemns me as I read the words of other prophets. Now I know the secret, well ok it’s no secret. We can and should come to know each and every author of scripture in the same way and depth that I have been so fortunate to do with “My Nephi”. Can you imagine if we would take the time to get to know, to study their words and learn for ourselves their testimonies?

Wouldn’t that just be grand!!!  J

Talk is Cheap.

There was a time in my life when the responsibilities of this world overwhelmed me and I no longer felt that I could stand and fight. My oldest son was about 9, our family had just moved to Cheyenne WY, and a company I was a partner in had close its doors leaving me with a 1/3^rd share of the company’s debt. During that time I went to the Lord and asked for help with everything I had on my plate. I could not cover everything that needed to be covered and despite all I could do I could see no way out. My mother had always told me that ‘the Lord helps those that help themselves’, and that is how I had always expected it to work. But this was different. I couldn’t plan, think, talk or work my way out of this. No matter how you added it up I came up short by a long way every time. Thus I could not “help myself” in my eyes. This would require a miracle. My mother also had told me about turning things over to the Lord. So I thought I’d give that a try. In my mind I couldn’t “really” see how God who is over all things in the great expanse of time and matter had time for me - but I went on anyway. I asked for Him to help me where I couldn’t help myself. As time went by I saw that things would “fall into place” or just plain happen that couldn’t be explained away. Time and time again it was an irrefutable answer in a miraculous way to (what must have been to Him) my little insignificant problems and little insignificant prayers. It was in fact a direct “miracle” answer to my prayer. This blew me away!!! Who knew that Father would hear and answer my prayers in such a direct and amazing way? Not amazing like flooding the earth, but amazing like all I did was ask? And who am I that he should know me? Or care enough about me to help me where I could not help myself? And to do it with no fanfare, just simply be there for me, for us. I felt as though I was humbled to the dust. Amazed that he would even know me… care for me… That he would act for me… That he would save me.

During this time of my life I was so grateful for all that he had done for me that I would pray on my knees by our couch in the early morning before anyone else was awake, before I would go to work. Sometimes I would be carried away in my gratitude for so long I would be late for work. One morning as the morning sun started to shine through the window and warm the house, I knelt to pray. In my soul singing praises and glorifying my Father as loudly (in my heart) as I could, it was as if the birds were chirping and the earth was singing with me, I was completely enraptured in my thanksgiving when a thought slammed into my head stopping my train of thoughts, forming words and those words were rolling in my mind as a loud thunderous echo, “Talk is Cheap!” I heard these words over and over, that thought stopped me mid sentence could not finish my prayer. It instantly burned in my soul and impacted every part of me. I felt that I had been scolded or reprimanded. I pushed up from the spot where I had been kneeling, and stood looking up. I pointed my finger heavenward feeling insulted. I was embarrassed and angry and said out loud with grit teeth “Are you saying that I? Me? Brent Case? is “All talk”.” I guess looking back I half expected an answer right there. It dawned on me that I already knew the answer. I had been called out. I lowered my finger, slowly gathered my things, and went to work without another word.

This bothered me so badly I did not return to prayer for over a week while I tried to figure this out. There was a kind of turmoil or wrestling match in my head that just kept boiling, and I couldn’t find rest. I would just review the still pounding impression “Talk is Cheap” over and over. At first it made me mad, and then it made me sad. The kind of sad that’s like a dark and rainy day, not a cold rain, just saturating wet and relentlessly falling on you wherever you go. With all of my soul I really was thankful and I wanted Him to not just know it, but to never doubt it. I was so sad that I hadn't shown Him how thankful I was.

What dose “Talk is Cheap.” mean? To me is means for example that anyone can say they are your friend but then turn right around and stab you in the back. You can say you’re a good cook but how does your food taste? I say I love you or respect you but how do I treat you? Actions are an outward expression of our inner commitment to how we really feel. Our true feelings are shown everyday by the way we act and they are always stronger than any words that come out of our mouth. My wife says “When someone shows you who they are, believe them.”

“Well” I’d tell myself “if talk is cheap he must want or need something else from me. What could my Heavenly Father, the creator of “everything” need from me? What can I, an Idaho farm boy, offer the God of everything? Everything I am everything I have He has given me. I became painfully aware that even the very breath I breathed was a gift from my loving Father.” It is true; I cannot even draw my own breath unless he gives me the power to do so. I would ask myself over and over, “Do I have anything He would want? Can I give anything he needs?” My mind churned day and night and there was no rest from these unyielding thoughts.

“What if I did something extra, like something really nice, something I wouldn’t normally do?” Would that surprise him? Then would he see that through my actions I am grateful? No! He knows I can’t surprise him. He knows everything. Even if I did, he would just bless me even more and in my head my ‘score card’ would show an even bigger deficit with me falling further and further behind. Brent 1/ God 1000000 How can I catch up? Can I ever get ahead? If I could, then he would know I was thankful.”

“It would have to be something he wouldn’t expect me to do. Something I haven’t done before, like what?” I would think.

He knows me too well; he knows my thoughts before I even think them. I’d guess I can never surprise him.

 That was my idea you see to surprise him with a gift of kindness or act of service to someone in need. But then I realized “I can’t do something for him that he can’t already do for himself.” So what then? What do you give to God? He has everything he needs.

I erred in my thoughts you see. Everything I could think of came from a place of pride within myself. I wanted to do… I wanted to fix it… I wanted to tell him how I would do it. “I” “I” “I”

Finally beaten by my lack of understanding and creativity and my inability to solve yet another problem on my own. The problem of how to repay my Heavenly Father, who had done so much for me and me unable to offer him anything in return. He had always come to my aide so readily, and so willing to help me, support and love me.

I was beaten, completely aware of everything I was lacking, and my inability to give back even the smallest token of thanks to the One I owed so much to. I finally a week or so later returned to that same spot by the couch in the early morning light to kneel in prayer, completely beaten and embarrassed by the fact that I couldn’t come up with anything to give Him in return. Now with tears in my eyes I begin my prayer. “Father I have nothing to give. But I am so thankful for thee and all thou hast done. I have tried to think of what I could give thee, or what I could do for thee and have again fallen short, and I come before you completely lacking. If thou would ask for something, I would give it.” I felt the warmth of his love start to fill me, like a warm breeze down the back of my cold neck. The kind of breeze that warms you up after standing out in the cold for so long. Slowly the thought filled my mind “If you would just come to my house to worship once a week, to be with me and my people, to learn of me and learn of my gospel. Then I would know that you are thankful” I felt his love for me filling me to full and then to overflowing, almost more than I could bare, but only in a good way, like you couldn’t feel one more ounce of love or you’d burst or like you have already burst and its ok.

(You see up till now I had stayed a comfortable distance from church, only going about twice a month. That was enough for me to say I was going but not enough to get and hold a calling or assignment or to feel obligated to participate.  I felt like church was for hypocrites. You know sinners just like me but feeling like they were better just because they would show up to church once a week and act like they weren’t the same as me. You see in my mind I was different because I knew I was a sinner and didn’t feel like I was trying to be anything I wasn’t. But to me, “in my mind” somehow the way I did it and the way they did it was different. I was real and they were somehow fake. So I told the Lord in my prayer that I was sure He didn’t want me to go there and hang out with those hypocrites. The feeling came again “If you would just come to my house to worship once a week, to be with me and my people, to learn of me and learn of my gospel. Then I would know that you are thankful” Well okay? If that’s what you want, then that’s what I’ll give.

I committed that I would go every Sunday so that He would know I was thankful, so every week in the beginning of the time following this. I would walk up to the doors of the chapel, look heavenward and in my mind say “do you see how thankful I am? I’m going to church. That is how thankful I am!” He would always answer with a “Thank you” and I would have a warm feeling. (I am always grateful for my Father’s love and patience with me as I learn, even when I am prideful.) A funny thing happened as I went week after week. I started to see my fellow worshipers in a different light. I saw they really were for the most part just like me. Just people trying their hardest to make it through life, falling often but willing to get up and try again, very aware of their own shortcomings. As time went on I even like being there, and loved to give service by participating in church duties. I like to show up help and be a part of what was planned. I was learning that “when we are in the service of our fellow men we are in the service of our God. And sure enough, the more I did the more I was blessed. I learned if we are willing to just “show up” Father is willing to use us. To serve in the church the main requirement is just showing up, He will enable us to do the rest. I also learned that one of the blessings that came from this experience was that from time to time there would arise strife in the congregation or ward. This did not seem to affect me; I didn’t care if someone was a trouble maker, a gossiper, a back biter, a crook or just hard to get along with. That’s not why I was there, I was there simply to tell my Father “thank you” and everything else became irrelevant. 

When we go to Father in prayer I have found out that it is best not to go with a list of things we are willing to do for Him but rather to go with a blank piece of paper and allow Him to fill it in. He has already told us what he expects from us. Doctrine and Covenants 59: 8 Thou shalt offer a sacrifice unto the Lord thy God in righteousness, even that of a broken heart and a contrite spirit.

After His Resurrection, Jesus Christ declared to the people in the New World:

“Your sacrifices and your burnt offerings shall be done away, for I will accept none of [them]. …

“And ye shall offer for a sacrifice unto me a broken heart and a contrite spirit. And whoso cometh unto me with a broken heart … , him will I baptize with fire and with the Holy Ghost” (3 Nephi 9:19–20). The Savior’s perfect submission to the Eternal Father is the very essence of a broken heart and a contrite spirit. Christ’s example teaches us that a broken heart is an eternal attribute of godliness. When our hearts are broken, we are completely open to the Spirit of God and recognize our dependence on Him for all that we have and all that we are. The sacrifice so entailed is a sacrifice of pride in all its forms. Like malleable clay in the hands of a skilled potter, the brokenhearted can be molded and shaped in the hands of the Master.

A great talk to listen to is here(click)

Baptism

I attended a baptism this weekend where the question was asked, If we remembered our baptismal day.

As I pondered I thought, I don’t remember much from that day, but I do have a lot of memories surrounding baptisms and I was impressed to share those memories with you.

1. My baptism day, the only real memory of that day is after the baptism was over, we loaded up in our family’s station wagon at the Wilson UT church house, and as we were leaving mom started to talk to me with a big smile brimming with excitement. She said something like, “How does it feel to be washed clean from all your sins?”
   Well it felt great! kuz I had a load of sins to get rid of. Then she went on to question me about something that had happened the previous day when Cory Huckabay and I were out playing. The two of us were always in trouble and that day was no exception. I don’t remember the particulars about what had gone on but I do remember that I had already told a lie to keep from getting in trouble. So when mom asked me about the events of that day, I knew I had a choice. I remember thinking about that choice as mom waited for my answer. Weighing it out in my mind, my new status of being clean verses the whippin I would surly get for, 1. Misbehaving and 2. Lying about it the first time I was asked. I looked down at the floorboard of our car, and chose to lie again to cover-up my misadventures from the previous day and conceal the lie I had already told. Just as the last word of that horrible lie fell from my lips, the car hit the curb as we left the parking lot of the church. I was completely defeated. I couldn’t even make it out of the church parking lot without messing things up. I was beaten by life before I could even get started it seemed to my 8yr old mind. What’s the point in even trying? Over the next couple of days this weighed heavy on my mind…
2. My next baptismal memory was of my little brother Darrin’s baptismal day. It was during the summer and I was 17 years old and working at Downata Hot Springs in Downey Idaho as a life guard.  (BEST job for a young man ever) Mom asked Darrin if he would let one of his older brothers baptize him, she thought it would be neat, “big brother baptizing little brother.” When she would leave I would tease him relentlessly because he was deathly afraid of going under the water for very long and of sharks. I would tell him that if I did it I would hold him under as I said the prayer, and I assured him that I would talk very slowly thus holding him under for as long as possible. For some strange reason, he opted to have Bryan, our older brother, do the honors.

I loved my job and my friends and I didn’t want to give up either to take time out of my schedule to go to Darrin’s baptism. I love my little brother and everything but, Saturday nights were the busiest nights of the week. There were sure to be lots of new girls to meet, friends and coworkers to hangout with. I begged mom to let me skip the baptism as I was scheduled to work. I did have great bosses, and there would be no problem with them letting me off at that time, but I just wanted to be there “in the mix” not at a church. I begged, then whined, then threw a “2 year old like fit” but I couldn’t get out of it. So under protest I went vowing to myself that if I had to be miserable so did everyone else. I pouted the whole time, squirming in my seat because it was uncomfortable as I felt the spirit trying to testify and bring peace to me. It seemed as though I did everything I could do to push the sprit away ensuring that I maintained my agony. I was miserable and wanted to be miserable and no one or nothing could change that. Finally after it was over mom told me I could just leave. She was disappointed with my behavior but I got to go be with my friends and I was happy about that. Mom confided to me later that I brought with me that night a darkness to the baptism…

1. My next baptismal memory was of my little sister Jennifer’s baptism in Cheyenne WY. By now I was 22 and married. I think I was enrolled in the Wyoming Law Enforcement Academy going through to become a Jailer for Lincoln County Sheriff’s Department in Kemmerer WY and my little family was staying with Mom and Dad, as their house was close to the training center I was attending.
   What I remember most was as I prepared to perform the ordinance in the dressing room. I was moved upon by the spirit like I had never been before in my life. It filled me to the brim and overflowing. It overwhelmed me to the point I couldn’t stand. I just sat there weeping, or rather wailing uncontrollably. I hadn’t been doing anything necessarily bad but hadn’t been doing any good either, just sitting on the fence watching life go by. I felt so deeply, so fully, that I needed to be actively engaged in good work. I felt both love and condemnation at the same time it seemed.  There was good work I needed to be doing, and there wasn’t any time for “time wasting.” When the time came to go to the fount I cleaned up the best I could and baptized her choking back the tears the whole time…

As I reflect on these three stories, I at first just see only my failures as a boy, teenager, father and husband. I wondered why I was prompted during that baptism to write these stories down. Was it just to catalog my failures? To prove to the world that I fall short oh-so often? So today as I was driving I asked “Father why is it, that I should tell these stories?” I felt as though I need to look a little deeper. As I drove and pondered, I came to this conclusion. These stories aren't about my failure- they are about my Father in Heaven’s love for me. In the first story as a boy, I learned very quickly, even before I left the parking lot, that I need Christ and his redeeming Atonement, multiple times daily and that it was there and ready for me to use and take full advantage of. I learned quickly of the importance of renewing my covenants with the Lord on the Sabbath as I partake of the sacrament. This has been a comfort and a saving grace to me throughout my life.

In the second story I found out that like it or not, we bring with us a spirit in all that we do. Which spirit we bring, depends on our attitude. We have the power to choose which side will be traveling with us, based on our attitude. Whatever we decide it affects those around us for good or bad. I also realized that Heavenly Father is always reaching out for me calling me back to the presence of the spirit and the peace that comes with that. As a young man I had a testimony that life was always better when I had His spirit with me. I always felt that was a little odd because I found myself evaluating my level of happiness, and if I wasn’t as happy as I wanted, I knew I better shape up and fly right and get straight with the Lord.

In the third story as I thought back on this time I can still feel his loving arm around me (and it still bring tears as I remember) when I was given a spiritual tongue lashing about being a fence sitter or being content to do little or nothing in the service of the Lord. He needs followers that are actively engaged in good works!

My Happiest Memories of Baptisms

The opportunity to participate and witness your children’s baptisms is without a doubt some of my happiest memories.  

Shawn was my first and I was so nervous and proud. I guess mostly with him I remember confirming him and feeling the power and inspiration that cut through the nerves of this young father and how I love to administer priesthood blessings to my children.

I didn’t baptize Shane because my father in law (I loved him) had just became a member of the church and had never had the chance to baptize any of his own children. So we talked with Shane and we all thought it would be great if grandpa baptized him. It was so touching to see Grandpa Bowers and Shane there in the water dressed in white. Some said John would never join the church. Heaven knows he had had a lot of chances to join, and when the subject came up he would just laugh or make a joke about them crazy Mormons with a twinkle in his eye. All that made it even sweeter to see him moved by the spirit as he preformed this ordinance for the first time. I then had the privilege to confirm Shane.

Cody loved Uncle Bryan and his family so he asked Bryan to baptize him. Man, when all those Case boys get together you just knew there were going to be stories to tell, wounds to heal and quite possibly explosions. I remember most Cody smiling big all day long it was like he was GLOWING. He just was so happy, beaming all day, and nobody has a smile like My Cody! NOBODY! It was also my privilege to confirm him a member of the church.

Kyli wanted to be baptized in the river in Star Valley Wyoming just like so many of her cousins and ancestors had ben before her. Grandma and grandpa Case were in the Provo UT MTC preparing to go to Ethiopia on a mission but received special permission to leave long enough to come to her baptism. It was the beginning of October and the water was soooo cold her dress came up on the first try and I had to perform the baptism a second time. She started to cry as we began the ordinance again, so I went as quickly as I could to get it done and get her out. This time I went down in with her almost all the way just to make sure it was done right and it wouldn’t have to be repeated. Then I immediately lifted her out of the water and onto the bridge where her mom wrapped her in a warm quilt. I confirmed her right there on that bridge.

I bear my testimony that God loves me and you.

In the name of Jesus Christ Amen