The Savior and the Library

While wrestling with my place in the kingdom of my Heavenly Father several years ago, I was often paralyzed by my fear that my spiritual ignorance--my scriptural ignorance--made me so much lesser in the eyes of God than of those who were “practiced Christians”--lifers as I had come to think of them. I was in some ways concerned that what I had to offer was too pale in its comparison, and that when the moment of my need came, He would surely turn me away for my thus far, lack-luster effort to know Him. How could I ask to keep company with the Savior, when I knew not his scriptures, nor had attended Church, or even worse yet, had not been baptized?

Through my prayers, I earnestly turned to the Lord to find comfort in my ignorance. I knew I had a father in Heaven. I knew I had a Savior--these things were long compelling me. What worried me most was what would come of me in their sights, were I to face them THIS DAY--in this place in my seeking, yearning soul. Through these ponderings, I had a dream. And, this is what it was:

With an invitation clutched in my hand and slightly panting, I hurried down a steep set of cobble-stone steps. The doorway to the building I was headed to was somewhat under-ground, or otherwise tucked into the basement level of this campus building. I was on University grounds to be sure, and was straight away aware I was already running late to meet the allotted time the invitation suggested.

It was a somewhat unremarkable piece of paper--that invitation. Cardstock, not unlike a wedding announcement bent in my tight fist. It told me the place and time for this interview, but of course not with whom I would be meeting. It had my name in plain but attractive letters, and a cordial encouragement to be on time, please, as there were many appointments to be had that day--all the more biting since indeed I was cutting it close. Still, I had the distinct feeling I was not tardy because I had been slothful. No, it felt as if I had just been given this invitation--and I was doing my best to be where I was supposed to be given the late hour.

When I burst through the double-doors of the somewhat dark brick building, I recognized right away I was in the library. Milling around the doors were dozens of people--most young--who had similar invitations in their hands or pockets. Most were dressed as I was, quite casually, and seemed unremarkable from one to the other. I would have taken little notice of them, in fact, were it not that they were ALL most unmistakably dissimilar to me in one very important way. In each of the arms of all of the other invited guests--where great stacks of books! Some were bent over their open pages, running fingers over line after line as they mouthed words they were reading. Others peeked then slammed books shut as if quizzing themselves on answers--and ALL were too consumed with their books to have any attention left for me. I looked around, my hands painfully empty. What were in those books? Why were they so fervently studying them? Just what WAS this invitation for? I looked past their hunched shoulders and bent heads to the receptionist in the front of the lobby. I walked more and more timidly toward her--extending my invitation to her with apologetic wariness.

She took it from me just as distractedly, and told me that I would be NEXT to be seen, and to have a seat and wait. NEXT? Next to meet with whom? I so desperately wanted to ask why we were all here--me and these others with their impressive stacks and more impressive resolve to cram as much information in as they could. But, there was nobody who had any up-turned eyes, and I soon found I would not have long to wait. In my utter dread of all that I was sure I would not be able to compete with--all the knowledge I was not trying to fill myself up with in these last moments-I became quite suddenly aware why we were all here. Everyone else knew it already, of course, but my understanding crept over me quite belatedly--so much so that I had not time to get any more nervous.

It was the Savior we were waiting to interview with. Christ would be interviewing us, and, the door was just opening for me!

With one look over my shoulder at the down-turned heads of my fellow attendees with their arms full of books, I stepped through the doorway. My hands were miserably open. My arms, weightless and empty.

Thank God for that doorway! For as my feet passed from the cold limestone of the lobby to the warm in descript flooring beyond it, I was suddenly filled with the most remarkable peace. Yes, my arms were empty. I had not one book to turn to, to thumb through nor quote from to impress the Christ--but in an instant I knew that was more than okay. I knew with full certainty then that the Savior cares not what of the world I had learned to quote. He cared not if I had memorized the Bible, or how many prophets I could name. I knew my empty hands would be blessed by Him-- as empty, I could reach out to Him. I knew that everything He needed to know about me would not be reflected in anything else of the world--except how I had used the world to improve my spirit, my faith, and my works in his name. None of these could or would be found in anything more impressive to Him than my own heart, and He cared not how I might TRY to be impressive at THIS HOUR, but how I had tried to LIVE impressive in all the hours before it.

With the Savior, my empty hands felt full. I might have been late to the invitation--even arriving in the last possible moments before my interview--but I had not lost anything in my inability to prepare once I knew it was coming. Everything I needed to feel READY for the Savior I already carried with me. Everything I was, was all He concerned himself with--and no book could define that. No OTHER person could diminish it in what they brought to Him when it was their turn. There was nobody else’s impressiveness the Lord was concerned with when we were alone.

With the Savior, it was my hands, my heart, and Him. Even empty, all were enough and with the knowing He gave me, all were filled by Him to over-flowing. A Godly goodness.

What a grand dream.


To me, it stands to reason that this dream would be held in a library. At the time I was so consumed with all I did not know--could not compete with in my lack of understanding. Every one else’s faith seemed so impressive compared to my pocket-full of questions. I wanted knowledge to feel I was “inside”--to feel accepted and rightful in the Church. It was the wrong reason, of course, because I had confused what the Savior needed from me with what I was afraid CHRISTIANS needed to be. We don’t, after all, read scriptures to be able to spout them to someone when they have a question or a quandary. We don’t memorize, or “master” their pages to be impressive or to ear-mark our progress as good Christians or clear believers. No--nowhere does it tell us to use the scriptures to impress. While we are told that all answers can be found in the scriptures--it is not meant that we are SMARTER, or BETTER because we can quote them or teach them, even. No, I believe we are meant to understand that all answers are found therein because GOD Himself is found therein. All answers are found in God, but we are not impressive because we can turn to the correct page, or even relate and spout-forth our study of them. We are impressive to God, or NOT impressive as the case may be, because of who we are open and empty. Who we are in the heart. Books may improve the mind, sure--but only the spirit improves the heart--and nothing of the spirit can be “made impressive” in the last hour. God knows your heart--and cares not if your arms or hands are empty when you meet. It’s better, in fact, as the more ready you are to receive him, the more He can fill your soul with Godly Love--a love only hands poised to reach with can hold.

This is the truth as far as I can see it. It changed my life to have this dream, and I am glad to share it with you.