We all love a good story and the best stories are epic battles between good and evil. Your typical story will be a good guy laying waste to some bad guys, then the leader of the bad guys defeats the good guy until some moral lesson is learned. The story ends when the good guy finally beats the bad guy. In our human made stories, it is generally easy to see who is good and who is bad in the story, but real life is not like the movies. In a real battle, we all think that we are the good guys and we all think that our enemy is the bad guy. Though this is a human reality of arguments, and we should seek wisdom in these matters to hopefully battle less, but that is even more imperative when we are battling with God.
In our post last week I talked about the various failing of the apostles and how those failures did not impact our Savior's love for us. I had a series of technical difficulties and though I could have included Judas's sin, I opted not to at the time, but since Judas was the motivation for the whole article, I wanted to take time today to write about him in more detail.
In my teenage years I started to listen to heavy metal music, one of my favorites being Motley Crue. At that time, I never thought about names of bands, but I later learned that motley is phrase referencing diversity but it generally has a negative connotation. I am not writing on a metal band today, but a different motley crew, the apostles.
History is in the eye of the beholder, and we can never say what we would do if we suddenly found ourselves generations past. If we were in the time of Columbus, would we think that the earth was round or flat?
When I lived in Wyoming, the greenest place in town was the cemetery. When I first began my running exercises, it was in the mazes of roadways that I timed myself, always working on running more and more. I walked there with a book, and even rode through on the bike on several occasions. It was peaceful and beautiful, and surely in our day that is generally the sense that one would assume about such a place of mourning and sorrow.
Back in our youth, I spent a lot of weekends at my brothers house since he lived very close to where I worked and my working hours were all clumped in the weekends. I usually earned my keep by cleaning the house which included tackling the dirty dishes...and I think I was the only person in the house that ever washed the dishes, and that was only on the weekends.
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