The Mediator

I devote this post to respond to the April 3, 1977 General Conference address, The Mediator, given by Boyd K. Packer of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

This address is the origin of the parable of the debtor and the creditor, a vehicle Packer uses to explain the mechanics of atonement, and its subsequent satisfaction of the competing divine principles of justice and mercy.

In his introduction, Packer describes a “spiritual account” that we will “settle,” presumably at the post-resurrection final judgment, and thereby “face a judgment of our doings in mortal life,” a “foreclosure of sorts.”

He writes:

One thing I know: we will be justly dealt with. Justice, the eternal law of justice, will be the measure against which we settle this account.

Justice is usually pictured holding a set of scales and blindfolded against the possibility that she may be partial or become sympathetic. There is no sympathy in justice alone—only justice! Our lives will be weighed on the scales of justice.

Packer is asserting that justice—the divine justice of God, the perfect, heavenly justice to which he conforms in all holiness and righteousness in eternity—“will be the measure against which we settle this account.” Packer’s use of the descriptive phrase “eternal law of justice” and his observation that “there is no sympathy in justice alone” to establish the exacting nature of the justice he believes will claim jurisdiction in that final day of reckoning.

Despite the fact that nowhere in the canon of the Restoration is the plan of salvation, a “plan of mercy” (Alma 42:15, Alma 42:31), described as a plan of justice, the influence of legalism, with its elevation of notions of the dominance of divine justice, was strong back in 1977 in the restored church of Christ, and still remains a formidable theological wrecking ball of a force today.

The poet Robert Frost argues that all metaphor breaks down somewhere, and the ways in which Packer’s metaphor breaks down and fails to capture the essence of the Lord’s intercession reveal more about the atonement of Christ than the ways the metaphor aptly applies.

There are at least seven ways in which the parable of the debtor and the creditor wonderfully breaks down, which I highlight below.

Having set the table with his assessment of the primacy of justice in the day of judgment, Packer tells his parable.

Let me tell you a story—a parable.

There once was a man who wanted something very much. It seemed more important than anything else in his life. In order for him to have his desire, he incurred a great debt.

He had been warned about going into that much debt, and particularly about his creditor. But it seemed so important for him to do what he wanted to do and to have what he wanted right now. He was sure he could pay for it later.

So he signed a contract. He would pay it off some time along the way. He didn’t worry too much about it, for the due date seemed such a long time away. He had what he wanted now, and that was what seemed important.

Stop.

First break—

Is the Fall properly understood as the result of the actions of an impatient Adam and Eve who want something so badly “right now” that they foolishly and unwisely incur “great debt” to acquire what they want?

Is there another way our first parents could have begun the journey of mortality without incurring a “great debt?”

Are Adam and Eve better off in Eden?

Some in the church believe that the Fall does not really impact us (a position arising from a misguided interpretation of the Second Article of Faith), and that we personally fall when we choose to commit sin. Perhaps those in the church who choose to not commit sin can enlighten us how they expect to personally avoid the consequences of both the Fall and their fall by virtue of their own personal righteousness.

Such individuals likely have no problem at all with the above section of Packer’s parable, and might even view the parable in its entirety as blessedly inapplicable to them.

The creditor was always somewhere in the back of his mind, and he made token payments now and again, thinking somehow that the day of reckoning really would never come.

But as it always does, the day came, and the contract fell due. The debt had not been fully paid. His creditor appeared and demanded payment in full.

Stop.

Second break—

Do we fallen, mortal beings possess the currency with which to repay the debt to the creditor—the personification of the principle of divine justice, the perfect, holy of justice to which Almighty God conforms in eternity?

In other words, do we have the power to resolve or satisfy the demands of broken, divine law that bring about the consequences of the Fall?

Do we possess the wherewithal to even partially settle the debt owed to the creditor?

Only then did he realize that his creditor not only had the power to repossess all that he owned, but the power to cast him into prison as well.

“I cannot pay you, for I have not the power to do so,” he confessed.

“Then,” said the creditor, “we will exercise the contract, take your possessions, and you shall go to prison. You agreed to that. It was your choice. You signed the contract, and now it must be enforced.”

“Can you not extend the time or forgive the debt?” the debtor begged. “Arrange some way for me to keep what I have and not go to prison. Surely you believe in mercy? Will you not show mercy?”

The creditor replied, “Mercy is always so one-sided. It would serve only you. If I show mercy to you, it will leave me unpaid. It is justice I demand. Do you believe in justice?”

“I believed in justice when I signed the contract,” the debtor said. “It was on my side then, for I thought it would protect me. I did not need mercy then, nor think I should need it ever. Justice, I thought, would serve both of us equally as well.”

Stop.

Third break—

Do Adam and Eve, who initiate our time of testing in mortality, ever labor under the misconception that they will “not need mercy,” that they will not “need it ever”?

Do we suffer from similar overconfidence?

Do our first parents ever believe that the divine, holy justice of heaven will “protect” them once they fall from Eden?

As fallen, mortal beings, do we believe that the divine, holy justice of heaven will ever act to “protect” us?

“It is justice that demands that you pay the contract or suffer the penalty,” the creditor replied. “That is the law. You have agreed to it and that is the way it must be. Mercy cannot rob justice.”

There they were: One meting out justice, the other pleading for mercy. Neither could prevail except at the expense of the other.

“If you do not forgive the debt there will be no mercy,” the debtor pleaded.

“If I do, there will be no justice,” was the reply.

Both laws, it seemed, could not be served. They are two eternal ideals that appear to contradict one another. Is there no way for justice to be fully served, and mercy also?

There is a way! The law of justice can be fully satisfied and mercy can be fully extended—but it takes someone else. And so it happened this time.

The debtor had a friend. He came to help. He knew the debtor well. He knew him to be shortsighted. He thought him foolish to have gotten himself into such a predicament. …

Stop.

Fourth break—

Are Adam and Eve “shortsighted” because of their decision to partake of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil? Are they “foolish” to get themselves into “such a predicament?”

Are we similarly “shortsighted” and “foolish” because we choose to uphold the plan of mercy in the premortal realms, and, according to the terms of that plan, to collectively incur the consequences of the Fall, to embark on an experience in mortality that will allow us to truly be free to choose what we want?

… Nevertheless, he wanted to help because he loved him. He stepped between them, faced the creditor, and made this offer.

“I will pay the debt if you will free the debtor from his contract so that he may keep his possessions and not go to prison.”

As the creditor was pondering the offer, the mediator added, “You demanded justice. Though he cannot pay you, I will do so. You will have been justly dealt with and can ask no more. It would not be just.”

And so the creditor agreed.

The mediator turned then to the debtor. “If I pay your debt, will you accept me as your creditor?”

Stop.

Fifth break—

Is the atonement of Christ conditional with regard to the perfect justice of heaven?

That is, does Christ by atonement turn away the judgments decreed against us at the Fall and release us from the perfection required by the holy justice of heaven, but only on condition that we “accept” him as our “creditor”?

What happens to us if we do not “accept” him?

Does he not pay our debt?

Does he renege on his agreement with the original creditor and throw us away? Does he assume the persona of Mr. Burns and release the hounds of the consuming justice of heaven?

“Oh yes, yes,” cried the debtor. “You save me from prison and show mercy to me.”

“Then,” said the benefactor, “you will pay the debt to me and I will set the terms. …

Stop.

Sixth break—

Do we repay the benefactor?

Maybe just a little?

Any amount at all?

Do we restore to Jesus what he has given through atonement to satisfy the divine justice of heaven?

… It will not be easy, but it will be possible. I will provide a way. You need not go to prison.”

Stop.

Seventh break—

Is our coming to Christ, in and of itself, hard?

In many cases, people or circumstances can throw up great challenges to our pursuit of the Son of God, but is our actual turning to him a herculean task, an arduous quest, a perilous spiritual path through an impossible spiritual Labyrinth of Crete?

(If indeed we must repay the benefactor, then our path to salvation is all these, and infinitely more.)

And so it was that the creditor was paid in full. He had been justly dealt with. No contract had been broken. The debtor, in turn, had been extended mercy. Both laws stood fulfilled. Because there was a mediator, justice had claimed its full share, and mercy was fully satisfied.

Packer writes:

Unless there is a mediator, unless we have a friend, the full weight of justice untempered, unsympathetic, must, positively must fall on us. The full recompense for every transgression, however minor or however deep, will be exacted from us to the uttermost farthing.

Like his parable, he fails to grasp that the justice he is describing—the awful, unforgiving justice of a perfect, holy God who cannot tolerate any imperfection in those who will dwell in a fullness of his presence—has already been satisfied by Jesus. This divine justice finds resolution in his sacrifice, and cannot exact anything more from any of us, whether or not we accept our Redeemer.

Packer fails to recognize that the justice in the plan of mercy that comes into play with regard to us arises from the atonement, and is manifest in the attainable gospel of mercy made possible by that atonement, which gospel provides astonishingly generous outcomes for everyone who does not, with eyes open, willfully take up the sword against God after the manner of Lucifer’s rebellion.

Packer writes:

The extension of mercy will not be automatic. It will be through covenant with Him. It will be on His terms, His generous terms, which include, as an absolute essential, baptism by immersion for the remission of sins.

Like his parable, Packer fails to acknowledge that mercy flows down on us in the plan of mercy from the Lamb of God like plentiful spring rain freely sent from heaven to bless barren, unfruitful dry ground. Packer fails to comprehend the bounteous spectrum of salvation that Jesus brings to a fallen world.

Finally, in his concluding comments, and in a manner consistent with the parable of the debtor and the creditor, Elder Packer:

1. Ignores the preaching of the extremes of salvation and damnation in Alma 42, and therefore disregards the vast area of salvation (see D&C 76) unmentioned in this pivotal chapter in the Book of Mormon.
2. Misinterprets 2 Nephi 2:7 to advocate the flawed take-it-or-leave-it appraisal of the intercession of Christ.
3. Adopts the negligent notion of a one-size-fits-all resurrection (“resurrection is extended to all without condition”), and necessarily and mistakenly relegates it as the least of the blessings of the atonement of Jesus.

Overall, the most glaring deficiency of the parable of the debtor and the creditor is that it preaches salvation by contract, not salvation by condescension.

Maybe there is a metaphor, a parable, some spiritual device to adequately, precisely, and properly explain the doctrine of intercession in Alma 42.

Or maybe we are better off sticking with the text itself to comprehend the mechanics of intercession, and its allowance of a full expression of the competing claims of divine justice and divine mercy.

For a more comprehensive discussion of the architecture of intercession, see Alma 42 in the Book of Mormon and Appendix 2: An Exposition of Alma Chapter 42 in the book Redeeming Grace in the Canon of the Restoration (Amazon CreateSpace and Kindle).

The Atonement and the Journey of Mortality

I devote this lengthy post to respond to the April 2012 Ensign article, The Atonement and the Journey of Mortality, by Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

This Ensign article is illustrative of the interpretive trouble we in the restored church of Christ continue to have with regard to 2 Nephi 25:23, the most misinterpreted passage in the canon of the Restoration. If we can somehow escape our faulty, near universal misunderstanding of this verse, then perhaps we can dismantle and destroy the array of perplexing, legalistic pop culture passing itself off as legitimate doctrine.

The wholesale misappropriation of 2 Nephi 25:23 is likely the primary source of the exegetical ills arising from the flawed notion of salvation by incremental self-improvement, a theme that Elder Bednar either knowingly or inadvertently advances in his article. Although he ostensibly confines the substance of his message to the “journey of mortality,” much of his reasoning and argument spills over into the arena of salvation itself.

One key to correctly comprehending Nephi’s words in 2 Nephi 25:23 is to discern that they are equivalent to Paul’s words in Ephesians 2:8-9. Because we wrest Nephi, we inevitably dismiss, ignore, and banish Paul, and that blunder knocks down the first domino of a series of errors that results in our present struggles with the doctrine of grace.

Elder Bednar, recalling a statement from a former president (David O. McKay) of the restored church of Christ, writes that the “grand objective of the Savior’s gospel” in the “journey of mortality is to progress from bad to good to better and to experience the mighty change of heart—to have our fallen natures changed (see Mosiah 5:2).”

There are two significant missteps here.

The first is the pragmatic notion that we have the gospel to move us from “bad to good to better.”

Those who come to Christ indeed proceed from “bad to good to better” on the relative scale of fallen mortality, but I do not need the gospel to enjoy that progression. I can do the same by actively participating in any number of Godless secular organizations that temporally serve humanity. The problem is that merely moving from “bad to good to better” does not necessarily bring me to Jesus.

The purpose of the gospel is to bring us to Christ, who alone has the power to transform us from fallen to saved (perfect). Bad, good, and better are still fallen (and imperfect).

The gospel, the “conditions of repentance” to which Alma refers, the set of attainable principles and ordinances Christ mercifully extends to us, is the critical additional step undertaken by the Savior to seal the efficacy of his divine atonement that forever pacifies the holy, consuming, perfect justice of heaven (Alma 42:13).

Christ offers us his gospel, and we are free to choose to come to him in this attainable path, if that is what we want.

I understand that the focus of Elder Bednar’s article is the relationship between the atonement and our “journey of mortality.” I also understand that President McKay is speaking more or less colloquially. But to implicitly refer to the gospel of Christ as a self-improvement program is like appraising the resurrection as a life-enhancing outpatient procedure.

The second is the upside-down notion that the “mighty change of heart,” archetypally experienced by the people of King Benjamin, is the desired end of our mortal spiritual walk (“The journey of mortality is to go from bad to good to better and to have our very natures changed”), where in fact being born again marks the beginning of that journey.

Being born again is our first inward spiritual step, initiated by our desire and faith to find and know God, which step results in our first personal, intimate experience with the power of the divine that transcends the natural world. Being born again is the type and shadow of the celestial resurrection, by which we rise in glory and become like Christ.

If you doubt the placement of being born again in the spiritual sequence of events that marks our mortal and postmortem pre-resurrection lives, then consider that every born-again experience (the mighty change of heart) in the Book of Mormon occurs as a first step of inward spiritual discipleship, not the end result of that undertaking.

Most non-Mormon Christians, unlike most Latter-day Saints, understand the implications of their fallen condition, and the miraculous born-again experience that commences their spiritual walk with the Lord in this life.

Elder Bednar writes:

I suspect that many Church members are much more familiar with the nature of the redeeming and cleansing power of the Atonement than they are with the strengthening and enabling power. It is one thing to know that Jesus Christ came to earth to die for us—that is fundamental and foundational to the doctrine of Christ. But we also need to appreciate that the Lord desires, through His Atonement and by the power of the Holy Ghost, to live in us—not only to direct us but also to empower us.

Our problem as Latter-day Saints is that we do not understand the nature of the “redeeming and cleansing power” of the atonement because we overemphasize its “strengthening and enabling power.” In fact, we substitute the latter for the former, such that we have come to believe that we pull ourselves up by our spiritual bootstraps (with the help of Jesus), and emerge at the end of this process of will and effort worthy to reside in heaven.

We view the “redeeming and cleaning power” of the atonement as nothing more than forgiveness, and fail to grasp that we will ultimately dwell as men and women “made perfect”(D&C 76:69) in the full presence of Almighty God as a direct result of that same “redeeming and cleansing power.”

Although there is no question that the “strengthening and enabling power” of Christ helps us as we pursue him in the testing period of our days of probation, the “redeeming and cleansing power” of his atonement is what exclusively raises us up in the celestial resurrection, the highest realization of the blessings of the Lord’s atonement, to a state of infinite holiness and perfection, a divine gift for which we mercifully qualify under the attainable standards of the gospel.

We have nothing to do with the provenance of the celestial resurrection (or any other resurrection) and its conferral of eternal life.

We are not responsible for it.

We do not provide it for ourselves.

We do not make ourselves worthy of it.

We do not incrementally and methodically achieve it.

We are the recipients of the gift of resurrection, the very delivery mechanism of our eternal inheritance, which blessed condition hopefully resides at the desirable extreme of a spectrum of salvation (see D&C 76) singularly provided by Christ.

We endure the consequences of the Fall to be free. The great opportunity of this life is to freely choose to come to Christ. As we do so, we embark on the quest to be better, but neither our enduring choice for Christ nor our quest to be better is the cause of our ultimate ascension to heaven.

Elder Bednar writes:

Most of us know that when we do wrong things, we need help to overcome the effects of sin in our lives.

Do we overcome the effects of sin?

Does our inherent goodness overpower and neutralize the effects of sin, and remedy our innate imperfection?

Do we conquer the Fall, death, and hell, and raise ourselves up to glory in the vastness of eternity?

Does Jesus help us do these things? Do we do these things with his help?

Moreover, do we have the power as fallen, mortal beings to completely avoid doing “wrong things”?

Elder Bednar writes:

Most of us clearly understand that the Atonement is for sinners. I am not so sure, however, that we know and understand that the Atonement is also for saints—for good men and women who are obedient, worthy, and conscientious and who are striving to become better and serve more faithfully.

In the absolute sense, are we not all sinners (Romans 3:23)? Are we not all disobedient (Romans 5:19)? Are we not all unworthy (Mosiah 4:11)? Are we not all beggars (Mosiah 4:19)?

Do followers of Christ ever fail to realize that the atonement is for them?

Do followers of Christ who come to him under the attainable standards of salvation, and strive to find and tread the strait and narrow path of the gospel ever fail to grasp the overriding relevance of the atonement with regard to their ultimate sanctification and elevation to heaven?

Who believes that the atonement does not apply to them like it applies to sinners?

During the earthly ministry of Christ in the Old World, those who trust in their own obedience, and see themselves as “obedient, worthy, and conscientious and … striving to become better and serve more faithfully” have no real need for Jesus.

Is Elder Bednar acknowledging that today there are members of the restored church of Christ who do not believe they need the atonement as much as the so-called sinners need it?

What would ever give members of the restored church of Christ that mistaken idea?

What manner of teaching of an out-of-context notion of personal righteousness whose efficacy opens the very gates of heaven would communicate to faithful members of the restored church of Christ the idea that we do not need the atonement of Jesus as much as the sinners need it?

Perhaps we can put this question to the “good men and women who are obedient, worthy, and conscientious … who are striving to become better and serve more faithfully” until they are personally prepared and enabled to dwell in the full presence of a just, holy, perfect God.

Moreover, perhaps we should place a reservation for dinner at Simon’s house (Luke 7:36-43), go on an excursion to see the Pharisee and the publican in the temple (Luke 18:9-14), and find time to have a pleasant sit-down with the “ninety and nine just persons” (Luke 15:7). Perhaps these experiences will also help all of us “good” members of the church “know and understand” that the atonement “is also for saints.”

I have a different set of questions.

Do we understand the consequences of the Fall?

Do we comprehend the infinite gap between the righteousness of fallen, mortal beings and the consuming holiness of heaven?

Or are we more preoccupied with our own laundry list of personal shortcomings and other failings that we believe we can rectify (with the help of Jesus) so that we then become worthy to stand with confidence in the presence of Almighty God?

Elder Bednar writes that “both putting off the natural man and becoming a saint … are accomplished through the power of the Atonement.”

He adds:

Individual willpower, personal determination and motivation, effective planning and goal setting are necessary but ultimately insufficient for us to triumphantly complete this mortal journey. Truly, we must come to rely upon “the merits, and mercy, and grace of the Holy Messiah” (2 Nephi 2:8).

In this take on the gospel, we marshal our “willpower, personal determination and motivation, effective planning and goal setting” in our effort to become saints, to “triumphantly complete this mortal journey,” and we also “rely upon ‘the merits, mercy, and grace of the Holy Messiah’” via the enabling power of his atonement to complete our quest.

Elder Bednar, who quotes Lehi in the Book of Mormon, essentially equates the triumphant completion of our mortal journey with our subsequent suitability and fitness for heaven.

Here is Lehi’s original teaching:

… [T]here is no flesh that can dwell in the presence of God, save it be through the merits, and mercy, and grace of the Holy Messiah … (2 Nephi 2:8).

According to Lehi, do we fallen, mortal beings successfully gain entrance to the “presence of God” because of the fortuitous tandem of our “willpower, personal determination and motivation, effective planning and goal setting” and the “merits … mercy … and grace of the Holy Messiah”?

Here is an expanded excerpt of Jacob’s original teaching.

… [T]here is no flesh that can dwell in the presence of God, save it be through the merits, and mercy, and grace of the Holy Messiah, who layeth down his life according to the flesh, and taketh it again by the power of the Spirit, that he may bring to pass the resurrection of the dead, being the first that should rise.

Wherefore, he is the firstfruits unto God, inasmuch as he shall make intercession for all the children of men; and they that believe in him shall be saved (2 Nephi 2:8-9).

Where are our efforts, aided by the enabling power of the atonement, in these verses?

Do we “dwell in the [full] presence of God” as a direct result of what we do?

Does Jesus help us do that?

Do we “bring to pass the resurrection of the dead”?

Does Jesus help us do that?

Do we “make intercession” for ourselves?

Does Jesus help us do that?

What is it, exactly, that we do?

Our role is to “believe” in the one who does these things, so that we receive a fullness of the blessings that are directly the result of his “merits … mercy … and grace.”

Elder Bednar presumably focuses on the narrow band of our belief during our mortal lives in the overall plan of salvation, and how we can solidify, strengthen, and bolster our faith in the Son of God, but inadvertently introduces our efforts and alleged goodness into the area of the plan of salvation restricted to the Savior.

In other words, we do not do what Jesus does.

It is no coincidence that Jacob teaches the resurrection immediately after he acknowledges that we come into the presence of God only “through the merits … mercy … and grace of the Holy Messiah,” for the very mechanism our Lord employs to raise us up to eternal glory is the power of his redeeming and sanctifying resurrection.

We have no direct role in these things.

Our role as fallen, mortal beings is to make use of our agency acquired by the Fall–to choose to believe in Christ, and to demonstrate the genuineness of our belief by coming to him in the attainable path of his gospel.

Jesus empowers our agency with meaning in the sense that he accepts us when we come to him, despite the fact that we are fallen, imperfect beings.

But only Jesus has the power to save.

We rightly turn to Jesus for help to be better than we are on the scale of fallen mortality, but the purpose of our relative improvement is to establish the authenticity of our choice for Christ, not to perfect ourselves with his help.

Burt Reynolds, in his memorable role as God walking incognito among mortals, has this revealing exchange while enticing a serial killer on the street to play a game of three-card Monte (Improbable, Episode 13, Season 9 of The X-Files):

God: Now, two clowns and a man with a crown. Wanna try your luck? King runs but he can’t hide. How can you lose? Kid stuff.

(Bueno, the serial killer, mistakenly chooses the Joker, and then God reveals the King.)

God: There goes the neighborhood, but Mr. Money [the King] is right next door. You know, there’s a secret to this game, Bueno, and I’m gonna tell you what the secret is. Choose better.

Bueno: You got something to say to me? You say it.

God: Son, I just did.

Our choices, however good we may believe they are, and however much the Lord may help us make them, do not save us from the Fall, overcome physical death, conquer sin, or redeem our souls and elevate us to heaven.

Jesus is the only one who can do these things, and he must do them for us. He is divine. We are fallen.

Our choices bring us to Christ, or take us away from him.

What we do is choose to come to him, which is hard enough already without the additional burdens of self-serve sanctification and personally procured perfection. In the plan of salvation, the purpose of our ability to choose—to choose better—is to bring us to Christ.

Elder Bednar equates grace with “enabling power,” and he refers to the Bible Dictionary to support this view.

Unfortunately, the entry for grace in the Bible Dictionary is utterly lacking in agreement to the totality of the message of salvation in the canon of the Restoration. I cannot overstate the violence this entry does to the doctrine of redeeming grace in both the Book of Mormon and the New Testament.

According to Elder Bednar’s selection from the Bible Dictionary, this is how we obtain eternal life:

It is likewise through the grace of the Lord that individuals, through faith in the atonement of Jesus Christ and repentance of their sins, receive strength and assistance to do good works that they otherwise would not be able to maintain if left to their own means. This grace is an enabling power that allows men and women to lay hold on eternal life and exaltation after they have expended their own best efforts.

The Bible Dictionary entry for grace also asserts the following:

Divine grace is needed by every soul in consequence of the fall of Adam and also because of man’s weaknesses and shortcomings. However, grace cannot suffice without total effort on the part of the recipient. Hence the explanation, “It is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do” (2 Ne. 25:23) (Bible Dictionary entry for grace).

We exercise “faith,” undergo “repentance of [our] sins,” and, given our “weaknesses and shortcomings” and “the fall of Adam,” receive “strength and assistance to do good works that [we] otherwise would not be able to maintain if left to [our] own means.” Our “own best efforts” and “total effort,” combined with the “enabling power” of the atonement, allow us to secure for ourselves “eternal life.”

In other words, we rise to it (with the help of Jesus).

We achieve eternal life—apparently synonymous with having “our fallen natures changed,” which makes us saints—by the force of our own will and effort, magnified by the “enabling power” of the atonement of Christ. In this way we overcome the “fall of Adam,” and become righteous enough to dwell in the presence of God.

Can you see the glaring discrepancy between the Bible Dictionary’s explanation of cause and Lehi’s explanation of cause with regard to salvation?

Lehi teaches that “there is no flesh that can dwell in the presence of God, save it be through the merits, and mercy, and grace of the Holy Messiah …” (2 Nephi 2:8).

The Bible Dictionary explains that the grace of Jesus kicks in only after we expend our “best efforts,” and, like a hit of supercharged spiritual steroid, propels us to the finish line of holiness and perfection, the blessed point at which we “lay hold on eternal life and exaltation.”

Moreover, the Bible Dictionary explains that the grace of Jesus “cannot suffice without total effort on the part of the recipient.” What this means is that what we do is the same thing that grace does, and what grace does is the same that we do. Working in concert, our efforts and the grace of Christ allow us to “lay hold on eternal life and exaltation.”

The relative proportions may be different from individual to individual, but the underlying substance of our “total effort” and the Lord’s “grace” is comprised of the same stuff.

What is so remarkable about the contrast here is that Lehi argues that the grace of Jesus is the only force that can bring us to holiness and perfection, and that the grace of Jesus that powers our salvation must function entirely independent and apart from the totality of our fallen efforts precisely because they are fallen. The grace of Jesus is the only thing that can “suffice.”

How can we imagine that the Lord, who “cannot look upon sin with the least degree of allowance” (D&C 1:31), is able to overlook the flaws in anything and everything we fallen mortals do, regardless of how much help we receive?

Given that everything we do fails to measure up to the perfect standards of heaven, how can we be saved directly by anything we do?

The Bible Dictionary insists that eternal life is the result of some kind of cooperative, collaborate effort between fallen, mortal beings (who just need a little help now and then to overcome their “weaknesses and shortcomings” and the “fall of Adam”) and a divine God, and that anything short of our “best efforts” and “total effort” disqualifies us from securing for ourselves eternal life.

And, in case you have not noticed, the Bible Dictionary entry for grace puts Nephi (2 Nephi 25:23) in conflict with his own father, Lehi (2 Nephi 2:8).

Lehi teaches that “the way is prepared from the fall of man, and salvation is free” (2 Nephi 2:4).

Salvation is not in any way the result of our “own best efforts” and “total effort,” or our “willpower, personal determination and motivation, effective planning and goal setting.”

Lehi teaches that we “are free according to the flesh,” that we “are free to choose liberty and eternal life, through the great Mediator of all men …” (2 Nephi 2:27).

How do we select that most blessed of options?

Nephi provides one answer.

We must “believe in Christ, and … be reconciled to God” (2 Nephi 25:23). This is the only alternative we have as fallen, mortal beings if we want eternal life. Nephi assures us that we are saved by grace—“we know that it is by grace that we are saved” (2 Nephi 25:23)—after we choose to “believe in Christ” and come to him in the attainable path of his gospel (2 Nephi 33:9), which is, in fact, “all we can do” (2 Nephi 25:23) as fallen, mortal beings. We must come to Christ because we can only be “reconciled to God” (2 Nephi 25:23) through his Son.

Lehi, Nephi, and even the difficult-to-understand Paul are preaching the same gospel, and the same independent, infinite redeeming grace of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

Perhaps Nephi has now assumed the difficult-to-understand moniker from Paul, whom we apparently either censor or ignore outright with regard to the saving doctrine of grace.

Elder Bednar writes:

Grace is the divine assistance or heavenly help each of us desperately needs to qualify for the celestial kingdom. Thus, the enabling power of the Atonement strengthens us to do and be good and to serve beyond our own individual desire and natural capacity.

The troubling implication of this statement, fully supported by the Bible Dictionary entry for grace, is that by force of our own will and effort and goodness, enabled, empowered, and enhanced by the divine help of Jesus, we become righteous and holy enough to dwell in heaven.

Where is the sense of proportion?

Where is the distinction between the fallen and the divine?

Where is the recognition of the infinite discontinuity between the relative goodness of fallen, mortal beings and the absolute goodness of heaven?

We qualify for the “celestial kingdom” (the celestial heaven) under the attainable standards of the gospel. We possess the innate ability through the gift of agency to choose Christ sufficiently well to qualify to receive the transforming gift of celestial resurrection, the mechanism by which we become like him. The Savior generously persuades, encourages, and helps us as we tread the attainable path of his gospel.

But we do not directly qualify through our own will and effort for the celestial heaven. We do not push forward, press on, and achieve until we are fit for residence in the celestial heaven.

This life is about choice, not perfection. Betterment is a natural consequence of our choice for Christ, but that improvement can never break free from its fallen, imperfect moorings. That improvement cannot bridge the infinite expanse separating divine perfection from the righteousness of fallen, mortal beings, regardless of how much “divine assistance” we receive from the Lord.

No matter how good we think we are, we yet remain fallen, mortal beings, and Jesus yet remains divine and holy. Only he can cross the divide between him and us. This is why he must condescend to us and procure the means for our salvation, because we cannot directly ascend to him in the heavenly realms.

We can only come to him.

Can you hear the severe but gentle reply of Jesus (once again subtly referring to himself in the third person) to the rich young man?

Why callest thou me good? There is none good but one, that is, God …” (Matthew 19:17).

Can you hear the precious words of Mormon preserved for us by his son, Moroni?

… [I]n Christ there should come every good thing.

…

… [A]ll things which are good cometh of Christ; otherwise men were fallen, and there could no good thing come unto them (Mormon 8:22, 24)

Elder Bednar writes that we better understand the atonement if we “insert ‘enabling and strengthening power’ each time we find the word grace in the scriptures.”

I understand the atonement better if I remember that the word grace, where used in reference to eternal life (or any degree of salvation), refers to Christ’s supernatural, one-sided transfer of the blessings of his atonement to us in the perfect day of salvation. Redeeming grace does not help us do anything, but does something to us.

This aspect of grace is nowhere to be found in the Bible Dictionary entry for grace, and is likewise absent in Latter-day Saint discourse and thought on the subject, which omission and absence are stunning and baffling because the grace of 2 Nephi 2:8, 2 Nephi 10:24, 2 Nephi 25:23, and Ephesians 2:8-9 is redeeming grace, not enabling grace.

Our devotion to the pragmatic, practical elements of the gospel of Jesus seems to overshadow the metaphysical and transcendent redemptive power of the atonement.

Elder Bednar recalls the story of how Nephi finds deliverance from his older brothers’ attempts to hurt and kill him (1 Nephi 7:15-18).

Elder Bednar writes:

It is especially interesting to me that Nephi did not pray to have his circumstances changed. Rather, he prayed for the strength to change his circumstances. And I believe he prayed in this manner precisely because he knew, understood, and had experienced the enabling power of the Atonement.

I do not think the bands with which Nephi was bound just magically fell from his hands and wrists. Rather, I suspect he was blessed with both persistence and personal strength beyond his natural capacity, that he then “in the strength of the Lord” (Mosiah 9:17) worked and twisted and tugged on the cords, and ultimately and literally was enabled to break the bands.

The account of Nephi bursting the bands of his captivity at the hands of his wicked older brothers is wonderfully illustrative of how God blesses us through his Son to help us overcome the exigencies, challenges, and trials of mortal life.

The problem is that Elder Bednar, like virtually all his contemporaries in the governing quorums of the restored church of Christ, uses this example (and similar examples) in the scriptures to blur the line between the way God works with us as fallen, mortal beings, and the way God raises us up to salvation.

In matters of salvation, we do not possess or wield the power to “change [our] circumstances.” We are fallen, mortal beings. Our only option is to come to Christ to “have [our] circumstances changed.” Only he can “change [our] circumstances.”

Nephi indeed prays: “O Lord, according to my faith which is in thee, wilt thou deliver me from the hands of my brethren; yea, even give me strength that I may burst these bands with which I am bound” (1 Nephi 7:17).

Nephi offers this prayer for help to overcome a situation that threatens his life.

Here is another heartfelt prayer that Nephi offers up to his Redeemer:

Rejoice, O my heart, and cry unto the Lord, and say: O Lord, I will praise thee forever; yea, my soul will rejoice in thee, my God, and the rock of my salvation.

O Lord, wilt thou redeem my soul? …

… O Lord, wilt thou not shut the gates of thy righteousness before me, that I may walk in the path of the low valley, that I may be strict in the plain road!

O Lord, wilt thou encircle me around in the robe of thy righteousness! …

O Lord, I have trusted in thee, and I will trust in thee forever. I will not put my trust in the arm of flesh; for I know that cursed is he that putteth his trust in the arm of flesh. Yea, cursed is he that putteth his trust in man or maketh flesh his arm.

… I will cry unto thee, my God, the rock of my righteousness. Behold, my voice shall forever ascend up unto thee, my rock and mine everlasting God. Amen (2 Nephi 4:30-35).

Nephi’s approach here is rather different from the one he takes with regard to the problem of the confining bands.

Does Nephi ask for help to directly realize his own salvation, or does he recognize that “the rock of [his] salvation” is the Lord?

Does Nephi ask for help to redeem his own soul, or does he plead, “O Lord, wilt thou redeem my soul?”

Does Nephi ask for help to improve and refine his own righteousness, or does he plead, “O Lord, wilt thou not shut the gates of thy righteousness before me …”?

Does Nephi ask for help to strengthen his own righteousness, or does he plead, “O Lord, wilt thou encircle me around in the robe of thy righteousness”?

Does Nephi ask for help to reinforce the “arm of flesh,” the same “arm of flesh” he uses to gain his release from the imprisoning bands of his brothers, or does he “trust in [the Lord] forever,” acknowledge that “cursed is he that putteth his trust in the arm of flesh,” and recognize that “cursed is he that putteth his trust in man or maketh flesh his arm”?

Does Nephi ask for help to enhance the efficacy of his own righteousness in acquiring eternal life, or does he “cry unto … the rock of [his] righteousness,” the Lord God of Israel, who will be Christ?

Nephi knows how to distinguish the enabling power of the Savior from his redeeming power.

Do we?

Nephi knows that Jesus is the “author and finisher of our faith” (Hebrews 12:2).

Nephi knows that, in matters of salvation, he must “[rely] alone upon the merits of Christ, who was the author and the finisher of [our] faith” (Moroni 6:4).

Nephi knows how he is saved.

Our salvation is not a direct function of so-called enabling grace.

The story of Nephi’s release from his bands is an utterly inadequate metaphor to describe our rescue from the Fall, death, and hell, and our ascension to heaven—our ultimate sanctification, redemption, and perfection via the celestial resurrection—which must come under the purview of redeeming grace.

Elder Bednar writes:

As you and I come to understand and employ the enabling power of the Atonement in our personal lives, we will pray and seek for strength to change our circumstances rather than praying for our circumstances to be changed. We will become agents who act rather than objects that are acted upon (see 2 Nephi 2:14).

Whether or not we “understand and employ the enabling power of the Atonement in our personal lives” per Elder Bednar’s interpretation of the same, we are already “agents who act” because the “Messiah” comes to “redeem the children of men from the fall” (2 Nephi 2:26). The Fall allows us to “[know] good from evil,” (2 Nephi 2:26), and Christ’s redemption of us from the Fall (redeeming grace) makes us “free forever … to act for [ourselves] and not to be acted upon, save it be by the punishment of the law at the great and last day, according to the commandments which God hath given” (2 Nephi 2:26).

We are “agents who act” because of our agency, obtained from the Fall, but made meaningful because of our redemption from the Fall by Christ (redeeming grace).

In matters of salvation, we, like Nephi, can only pray for our “circumstances to be changed” by our Redeemer, for we cannot change them ourselves.

The whole point of our life here is to have the chance, far from the indisputable influence of God, to freely choose Christ. If we do that, he will indeed “change our circumstances” in the endless happiness and glory of eternity.

We do not undertake the journey of life to perfect ourselves, but to freely choose.

The other accounts Elder Bednar relates are similar to the story of Nephi’s deliverance from the evil designs of his older brothers, and are relevant to our struggles on the landscape of fallen, mortal life.

And the other accounts Elder Bednar relates are entirely irrelevant to the procurement of our own salvation.

Nephi receives power to break his own bands, but only Jesus has power to break the “bands of death,” take “upon himself [our] iniquity and [our] transgressions, having redeemed [us], and satisfied the demands of justice” (Mosiah 15:9), and raise us to “dwell with God” and “have eternal life through Christ …” (Mosiah 15:23).

Elder Bednar concludes his piece in the Ensign as follows:

I know the Savior lives. I have experienced both His redeeming and enabling power, and I testify that these powers are real and available to each of us. Indeed, “in the strength of the Lord” we can do and overcome all things as we press forward on our journey of morality.

I have no doubt the Lord helps us to be better than we are as we go about our lives here and in the pre-resurrection spirit world.

But there is one venue in which the Lord does not help us do anything. This venue is our own salvation. In matters of salvation, the Lord does everything. He is the singular cause of our salvation. He is the exclusive source of our salvation. He is our salvation.

The Lord is my light and my salvation … (Psalms 27:1).

We may overcome bands that bind us.

We may overcome great challenges and trials.

We may overcome gravity, the bonds of the atom, and a whole host of remarkable obstacles.

But—

We do not and cannot overcome the Fall (2 Nephi 2:26).

We do not and cannot overcome physical death (Alma 11:42).

We do not and cannot overcome spiritual death (2 Nephi 9:10).

We do not and cannot procure for ourselves eternal life (Mosiah 16:13, John 3:16-17).

We do not and cannot overcome the world (John 16:33).

And—

We must know the limits of so-called enabling grace, and distinguish it from the infinite range of redeeming grace.

We will only experience the fullness of the Lord’s redeeming grace in the celestial resurrection, the time when “[our] redemption shall be perfected …” (D&C 45:46). Until then, we are to “continue in patience until [we] are perfected” (D&C 67:13).

To quote the final, soteriologically profound words of Clint Eastwood’s memorable character, Inspector Harry Callahan, from the 1973 film Magnum Force:

A man’s got to know his limitations.

We Latter-day Saints must recognize our own.

For a more comprehensive discussion of the redeeming grace of Jesus, see the book Redeeming Grace in the Canon of the Restoration (Amazon CreateSpace and Kindle).