Can You Believe It 3
Cilinia Looker
The last several months have been disorienting for all of us. COVID-19 has profoundly disrupted the lives of people worldwide. It has caused more than 365,000 deaths around the globe and more than 100,000 in the United States alone. Forty million Americans have lost their jobs, and countless others live in fear of both the virus and its economic consequences.
I cannot help but think back to 1968, the spring of my junior year in high school. First, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated, then Bobby Kennedy. Riots broke out in nearby Detroit, as they did across the country. Then, like now, our nation was hugely polarized, and we desperately struggled to find common ground that might unite us.
At the time, hope was in short supply. It seemed difficult to imagine how we would move forward, but we did. As I think about the challenges that we face today, I return again and again to what I believe:
I believe that our strength as a nation is due in no small measure to our tradition of welcoming those who come to our shores in search of freedom and opportunity, individuals who repay us multiple times over through their hard work, creativity, and devotion to their new home.
They met in New York City, married, became Americans and raised a family. By their hard work and their love for this country, they enriched this nation and helped it grow and thrive. They instilled in their children and grandchildren that same love of country and a spirit of optimism.
Colin Powell spent 35 years in the military, rising from ROTC in college to become a four-star general and chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff during the 1991 Gulf War. He has worked in the administrations of six presidents including serving as secretary of state from 2001 to 2005.
I believe that our greatest strength in dealing with the world is the openness of our society and the welcoming nature of our people. A good stay in our country is the best public diplomacy tool we have.
As I traveled the world as secretary of state, I encountered anti-American sentiment. But I also encountered an underlying respect and affection for America. People still want to come here. Refugees who have no home at all know that America is their land of dreams. Even with added scrutiny, people line up at our embassies to apply to come here.
Later this month, I will be participating in a ceremony at Ellis Island where I will receive copies of the ship manifest and the immigration documents that record the arrival in America of my mother, Maud Ariel McKoy, from Jamaica aboard the motor ship Turialba in 1923. My father, Luther Powell, had arrived three years earlier at the Port of Philadelphia.
My family's story is a common one that has been told by millions of Americans. We are a land of immigrants: A nation that has been touched by every nation and we, in turn, touch every nation. And we are touched not just by immigrants but by the visitors who come to America and return home to tell of their experiences.
You see, I believe that the America of 2005 is the same America that brought Maud Ariel McKoy and Luther Powell to these shores, and so many millions of others. An America that each day gives new immigrants the same gift that my parents received. An America that lives by a Constitution that inspires freedom and democracy around the world. An America with a big, open, charitable heart that reaches out to people in need around the world. An America that sometimes seems confused and is always noisy. That noise has a name, it's called democracy and we use it to work through our confusion.
Another strong manifestation of my intense enthusiasm for BYU athletics in my youth was my desire to listen to games on the radio when I could not view them in person or on television. I would tune in to the play-by-play announcers and visualize every exciting moment on the football field or basketball court, engraving the most important moments in my mind forever.
For example, when I was eight, our star player, Danny Ainge, took the inbounds pass with eight seconds left against Notre Dame, drove the length of the court, weaving through every defender, and scored the winning basket to send our team to the Elite Eight in the NCAA tournament. Over the ensuing days, I replayed that moment in my mind countless times and reenacted it again and again on my home court.
I certainly agree that we cannot live on borrowed light alone. However, I do not think Elder Kimball was suggesting that borrowed light is inconsequential. Instead, I think he was simply declaring that borrowed light can expire. I believe there is great spiritual strength in borrowed light because of two powerful properties.
One Sunday evening as I washed the dishes and pondered my predicament, I thought about what it would be like to have to go home early from my mission and explain how I no longer thought I had a testimony of the gospel.
At the kitchen sink that evening, the light came as I believed on the words of my mother. Like the stripling sons of Helaman, I had been taught by my mother that if I did not doubt, God would deliver me. And because of this witness as a missionary, I do not doubt my mother knew it. As we read in the Book of Mormon:
The heavens brought peace to my mind and comfort to my soul through the angelic ministering of my mother. From that point on I began to experience the joy that comes from full-time missionary work, and I was able to rebuild the foundation of a testimony that continues to grow to this day. I believed on the words of my mother, and the witness I received is that Jesus Christ is the light of the world.
By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, both Gwen and I were close to falling apart. We had spent sleepless nights caring for our children, and the stress of the trip had taken its toll. We were still smiling on the outside, but we both felt empty on the inside.
Following a longtime family tradition, we began our Christmas Eve with a special dinner, and then we went caroling to the mission home neighbors. Afterward we gathered in the living room to reenact the Nativity and read scriptures. I was seated in a chair, and Gwen was nestled into the adjacent couch. Admittedly my focus had drifted from the family purpose of the evening, and I was somewhat distracted with our plight as we made our way through our traditional stories and scriptural passages.
Have ye any that are sick among you? Bring them hither. Have ye any that are lame, or blind, or halt, or maimed, or leprous, or that are withered, or that are deaf, or that are afflicted in any manner? Bring them hither and I will heal them, for I have compassion upon you; my bowels are filled with mercy. . . .
The heavens brought peace to my mind and comfort to my soul through the angelic ministering of my grandmother. I believed on her words, as described in this scriptural account, and the witness I received is that Jesus Christ is the healer of all those who are afflicted in any manner.
As I sang, I felt some anxiety about the impending changes in our family life. The nearer waters were rolling by, and the tempest was still high in my mind. I had no refuge, and I needed somewhere to hang my helpless soul. I really needed the shadow of His wing.
Blessed art thou, Alma, and blessed are they who were baptized in the waters of Mormon. Thou art blessed because of thy exceeding faith in the words alone of my servant Abinadi.
True it is they were first proclaimed by others, but they are now mine, for the Holy Spirit of God has borne witness to me that they are true, and it is now as though the Lord had revealed them to me in the first instance. I have thereby heard his voice and know his word.
Presbyterians trace their history to the 16th century and the Protestant Reformation. Our heritage, and much of what we believe, began with the French lawyer John Calvin (1509-1564), whose writings crystallized much of the Reformed thinking that came before him.
Many of the early Presbyterians in America came from England, Scotland and Ireland. The first American Presbytery was organized at Philadelphia in 1706. The first General Assembly was held in the same city in 1789. The first Assembly was convened by the Rev. John Witherspoon, one of the few ordained ministers to sign the Declaration of Independence.
Today at Azusa Pacific University, we work together as a team of difference makersto advance the work of God in the world through scholarship, teaching, and buildingdisciples across all levels and delivery systems of collegiate education. When AzusaPacific was founded in 1899 in a simple home in Whittier, California, as the TrainingSchool for Christian Workers, that modest beginning came with the bold resolve ofhomeowner Philena B. Hadley and others to forge an educational enterprise that wouldimpact the world for Christ. This foundational understanding of our common purposefinds expression in the Mission Statement as established in 1990 under the leadershipof Interim President Ted Engstrom and President Richard Felix, who had just begunhis tenure.
"Azusa Pacific University is an evangelical Christian community of disciples and scholarswho seek to advance the work of God in the world through academic excellence in liberalarts and professional programs of higher education that encourage students to developa Christian perspective of truth and life."
As an educational institution with a Wesleyan tradition at its core, it seems natural to us to embrace a statement of faith that is commonamong many Christian traditions. APU's Statement of Faith first appeared in 1900,introduced by Philena B. Hadley and Mary Hill as "History and Spirit." It was revisitedand clarified in 1956, under President C.P. Haggard. To provide application to theseguiding beliefs, "Daily Living Expectations" were added to offer a deeper understandingof the character of the faculty, staff, and administration at APU.
We believe in the deity of our Lord Jesus Christ, in His virgin birth, in His sinlesslife, in His miracles, in His vicarious and atoning death through His shed blood,in His bodily resurrection, and in His ascension to the right hand of the Father,and in His personal return to power and glory.
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