C. David Belt's Blog, page 22

MTC Tour Day 2: What E’er Thou Art…

We had two concerts today in Bethesda at a beautiful venue called Strathmore.  Two concerts makes for an exhausting day.

Last night, I finished writing a pivotal chapter in my current work-in-progress novel.  I was quite happy with the way it turned out.  However, when I went to bed, my mind was racing with ideas for the next chapter.  I couldn’t shut it down.  As a consequence, I was unable to fall asleep until about 6:00 this morning.  I had to be up by 6:30 to be ready for today’s performances.

Needless to say, I’m pretty beat.  By the end of the second concert, I was quite loopy.  But I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

After the first concert, I was sitting in the hallway.  An elderly lady approached me and said, “I watch for you every week in the broadcast.  Thank you for singing with such passion.”  Then she asked, “Does the whole Choir go on tour?”  I explained that only 300 of the 360 actually get to go on tour.  “Well,” she said, “I’m so glad you were able to come.  It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

I’m glad I was able to make it too.  In the Choir, we strive to unify our voices, to sing as one.  But each of us contributes something unique.

You are unique and precious to our Father in Heaven.  And you have something irreplaceable to contribute.  As the old saying goes, “What e’er thou art, act well thy part.”

MTC Tour Day 1: Be Joyful!

Today was the first day of the Choir’s tour of the east coast, and our first stop is Bethesda, MD.  On the plane from Salt Lake City to Baltimore, the head flight attendant got on the intercom and regaled us with joke.  He also told us how very honored they felt to be able to serve us.  He and the other flight attendants treated everyone on our charter flight like we were in all first class.  At the hotel in Maryland, the staff treated us all like VIPs.

“It’s like living in the temple for two weeks.”  That’s how my sweet wife describes touring with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.  When I asked her what she meant, she talked about feeling the Holy Spirit constantly, of seeing the joy in the faces of the audience (something I cannot see, because of the stage lights), of lifting spirits and healing hearts, of being surrounded by cheerful people united to bring joy to others.  I think her description is accurate except for one detail: the laughter.  We have so much fun!

A few years ago, one of our guest artist for the Christmas concerts said, “I approached performing with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir with some trepidation, because of my perceptions about the Mormon Church.  But after performing with you for the past two nights, I must say that I have never met a happier group of people.  I must now go home and take another look at the Mormon faith.”

There’s so much evil in this world, and while we can’t ignore it and pretend it doesn’t exist, hoping that it will all just go away or happen elsewhere, we don’t have to be caught up in it.  There are those brave souls who are called to fight evil with guns and bombs, and I am grateful for them and their willingness to serve and stand in harm’s way.  However, all of us can combat evil with joy and service.  Lift those around you.  Strengthen the feeble knees.  Stand for good.  Love the sinner, without accepting or condoning the sin.

Be joyful, because “man is that he might have joy.”

I love touring with the Choir!

Let Peace Then Still the Strife

Another monster has taken the lives of nine children of God in South Carolina.  Nine families have been shattered by a fiend who, reportedly, wanted to start a race war.  After sitting through a Bible study, a twisted, evil, hate-consumed creature brought death into a historic church in Charleston.

And where there is death, there will always be carrion-eaters.  The vultures, jackals, and worms have descended on the tragedy, salivating at the chance to further their own agendas.  The vultures seek to take away the guns (although the little monster obtained his weapon illegally and the presence of another gun might have prevented further loss of life).  The jackals seek to stir up more racial hatred and violence (because surely nine deaths isn’t enough, and they can’t let a “good crisis go to waste”), ironically furthering the work of the monster.  The worms seek to expand their political power (blaming conservative voices and Fox News for the tragedy) and to raise funds for their organizations (none of which will actually help the families of the victims).

Yet in the midst of all this tragedy and the attendant carrion-feeding, Ethel Lance, the daughter of one of the victims, faced the monster who murdered her mother.  Instead of demanding vengeance or cursing him, she said, “You hurt a lot of people, but I forgive you.”

And she was not alone.  Other surviving family members prayed for his soul and exhorted him to turn to Savior for redemption.

Truly, these wonderful people know the pure love of Christ.

This is not to say that the murderer should not face justice, both earthly and eternal.  But he has been apprehended.  The rest is up to the courts, both earthly and divine.

And to the vultures, jackals, and worms, I say this: go away.  The good people of Charleston don’t need you or your “help.”

The good people of Charleston know the Savior.  They know the true source of peace and solace.

 

Pictures from The Armor of God Photo Shoot!

These are a few pictures, mostly “behind-the-scenes” shots, from the photo shoot for my upcoming non-fiction book, The Armor of God. We took hundreds of pictures, but I thought I’d share a few here. Enjoy!

Thank you to Olya Goodrick (photographer), Jacob Belt (model), and Bryan Belt (photographer’s assistant). I’m in there too.

God Bless America!

This morning, the Mormon Tabernacle Choir performed a medley of the hymns of the four armed services of the Unites States of America.  Were you aware that each service has an official hymn?  I’m not talking about the rousing, official songs of each service, but sacred hymns where the Army, Air Force, Navy, Marines, and Coast Guard acknowledge that hand of God and plead for His divine protection.  I’m an Air Force veteran, myself, but my favorite is the Marine Corps hymn:

Eternal Father, grant, we pray,

To all Marines, both night and day,

The courage, honor, strength, and skill

Their land to serve, Thy law fulfill;

Be Thou the shield forevermore

From every peril to the Corps.

However, if you search the internet or the official websites of each armed service—with the notable exception of the Navy—it’s difficult to find a reference to the official hymns.

I find this disturbing.

Military chaplains are now forbidden to read or quote certain verses from the Bible.  The armed services used to teach Judeo-Christian ethics courses to military officers, but this has been discontinued in recent years.  Atheist and Wiccan chaplains have been commissioned.  Military counterterrorism briefings now define Catholics and evangelical Christians as threats to national security.  Acceptance of every form of sexual perversion (including pedophilia where it is culturally allowed) is preached in U.S. military “sensitivity training.”  This week, President Obama declared that one of the major threats our armed services face today, ranking right up there with ISIS, is—you guessed it—climate change.

We have gone from Judeo-Christian principles to a gospel of “tolerance” and earth-worship.

American blood purchased the freedom of the Iraqi people.  While I am not discounting the sacrifices made by brave men and women of other coalition nations, the lion’s share of the blood shed on the altar of freedom in Iraq was American.  And today, we see the Islamic State slaughtering, raping, and enslaving innocents, all in the name of their perverse and evil ideology, negating the sacrifices of so many heroes.

The scriptures warn us that we must serve the God of the land, or be swept off.  Instead, we allow ourselves to be blown about by every wind of doctrine comprised of the philosophies of men.  We worship the false deities known as Tolerance, Political Correctness, Social Justice, Covetousness, and Gaia.  We forget who the Author of our liberty truly is, even Jesus Christ.

If we would truly honor those who paid the ultimate price to secure and preserve our liberty and the freedom, we must turn back to the true Source of liberty.  Otherwise, their sacrifices will be in vain.

There is no country on earth like the United States of America.  This nation, even with all her flaws, is the beacon of freedom for all the world.  Ronald Reagan said, “If we lose freedom here, there is no place to escape to. This is the last stand on earth.”

With all my heart, I say, God bless America.  May we be that “shining city on the hill.”

While the storm clouds gather far across the sea,

Let us swear allegiance to a land that’s free.

Let us all be grateful for a land so fair,

As we raise our voices in a solemn prayer:

God bless America, land that I love,

Stand beside her and guide her

Through the night with a light from above.

From the mountains, to the prairies,

To the oceans white with foam,

God bless America,

My home sweet home.

BYU Radio Interview

Interview today on the Kim Power Stilson show:  http://www.byuradio.org/episode/222e9b70-e01a-4061-9ae8-22c47c6ac64a/the-kim-power-stilson-show-women-farmers-and-vampires

Lullaby

A mother cradles her newborn in her arms and sings the babe a lullaby���a beautiful, iconic image of maternal love.�� We think of a lullaby as a quiet song meant to lull and soothe a child to sleep, but the word may have a much darker, and conversely, profoundly beautiful origin.

A common theory for the etymology or origin of the word ���lullaby��� is that it is derived from the Hebrew Lilla abi or Lilith abi, which means literally, ���Lilith, go away!����� In Jewish tradition, Lilith was the mother of all vampires.�� It was believed that Lilith or one of her children would come unseen while a newborn was sleeping and kiss the child and steal him or her away.�� A female infant was vulnerable until she was fourteen days old.�� A male infant was vulnerable until he was circumcised at eight days old.�� So a mother would sing to her child until it slept, and then she would keep watch over it carefully, in spite of the fact that she was exhausted after the life-threatening ordeal of childbirth.�� And as she kept watch, if her baby smiled in its sleep, the mother would tap the child on the lips to wake him or her up.�� It was believed that if the child smiled as it slept, Lilith was kissing it.�� So the mother would wake the child, driving Lilith away, and then sing to her child once again.�� In this way, the mother stood guard over her baby, protecting it from the unseen forces of evil.

That���s what a mother does, doesn���t she?�� She stands watch, protecting as best she can her children from the evils of the world, both seen and unseen.�� And she does so in spite of exhaustion, pain, heartache, sickness, fear, doubt, and personal danger.

A mother isn���t perfect.�� Sometimes, she dozes off.�� Sometimes, she cannot see all the threats her children face.�� Sometimes, she lets exhaustion, despair, hormones, and other human frailties momentarily overcome her patience.�� But she selflessly stands guard with all the love she possesses.

My own dear mother isn���t perfect, neither is my dear wife.�� But our Heavenly Father and Heavenly Mother don���t send Their children to perfect mothers.�� I believe this is by divine design.�� Our Heavenly Parents allow imperfect mothers and innocent children to grow together.�� And then, when children are grown, a mother continues to worry, pray, and shed tears for her children.�� And she continues to beat herself up for her failures.

Young children cannot comprehend the enormous sacrifice of a loving mother.�� Even adult children fail to see how much their mothers have done and continue to do for them.�� It is only as a parent of grown children, some of whom have temporarily lost their way to one degree or another, that I can begin to understand all that my mother and my wife have given to guide and protect their children.

They stood guard in the lonely, dark, exhaustive, thankless, doubt-ridden, and tearful watches of the night.�� And for that, I am profoundly grateful.

It’s NOT Courageous

A few years ago, I learned that a once-dear friend of mine had abandoned his wife and children.�� This is a man I looked up to, a man whose counsel I valued, and a trusted friend.�� He is a brilliant man of great intellect and incredible talent.�� However, after decades of marriage to a wonderful lady, he abandoned her.�� He abandoned the lady who had risked her life multiple times to give him children.�� He discarded the lady who continues to raise and care for his children alone.�� He forsook the precious daughter of God who had given him her virginity, a precious gift she can give to no other man.�� He tossed aside the lady whom he had covenanted for all eternity to care for and cherish and be one with.

He abandoned her, because he met and fell in love with another woman.�� He abandoned her and broke his eternal covenant, he said, because he had met his soulmate.

I know that no marriage is without its difficulties, no marriage is perfect, no woman is perfect���although my wife is darn close���just as no man is perfect.�� I also know that marriage takes work.�� I also know that soulmates are forged, not met.

When I think of my friend, I feel sorrow and pity.�� After all those years together, after all the struggles, the heartaches, the sacrifices, the love, the joy, and the triumphs, he met the new love of his life and threw away his first true love.�� And he voluntarily gave all that up for what?�� Another woman who left her husband and abandoned her family to be with him.�� So two marriages and two families were destroyed.

I wonder, if when he realized he was attracted to this other married woman, if when he realized he had romantic feelings for her, why he didn���t turn as Joseph did from Potiphar���s wife, and run away?�� Get counseling, rebuild your relationship with your wife, court her again like you did when you were first dating, rebuild your romance with her, get on your knees and pray for help, get on your knees with your wife and pray with her.�� But flee a potential relationship that could destroy, not just one, but two marriages, two families, and all the innocent children involved.

I know I have not walked a mile in this man���s shoes, but I must admit that when I think of my friend���s ACTIONS, I feel only contempt.�� I can find nothing admirable in what he did.�� I believe most honest people would react the same way.

Now let me change one word in the above true story.�� Change ���woman��� to ���man.����� First, let me be very clear: my friend did NOT leave his wife for another man.�� That was NOT the case in this story.�� But imagine for a minute if it WERE the case.�� Imagine if the man in the story had met another married man, and they had connected, and had left their wives and children so the two of them could be together.�� If such were the case, many people would call this man courageous.�� ���Oh, it���s so brave of you to be yourself!����� Many would applaud him.�� Many would claim that he was finally being true to himself.

So tell me, if the man in the true story, the heterosexual story, is pitiful, selfish, and despicable, how is the man in the altered story, the homosexual story, brave?�� Have we fallen so far as a people that we truly call good evil and evil good?

There is nothing brave about tossing aside the bride of your youth like a pair of old sweatpants that have seen better days for the shiny new soulmate of today.�� It isn���t brave; it���s merely selfish.

True courage means doing the hard thing, such as keeping the covenants you made and keeping your promises.�� It means blowing on the dying embers of your first love to kindle it back to a living flame.�� It means turning from Potiphar���s wife and running as fast as you can.

Angel in the Garden

When Jesus was born, choirs of angels sang to announce His birth.

But when He knelt in the Garden of Gethsemane, enduring the agony of the sins of all mankind���the central, most important event in all of human history���a single angel came to strengthen Him.

In the last couple of weeks, I have imagined myself as that lone angel.�� I���m sure it was a great honor to be the one to comfort and strengthen the Savior at that all-important time.�� The only sinless Man suffered for us all, and without Him, we would all be lost���for we have all sinned, we have all fallen short.

And as I imagined myself comforting and encouraging the Son of God in His agony, as He bled from every pore, I thought, I caused this���not all of it, certainly, but some small part of it.�� I, David Belt, caused Him part of this pain.�� And I continue to add to that awful burden every single day.

And I am so very grateful that He willingly paid this debt that I cannot.

So as I picture myself there with the Savior, I see myself weeping and pleading with Him.�� ���You can do it.�� You���re the only One who can.�� Don���t give up.�� Please endure.�� Please, please endure for me, for my wife, for my children, for all of us.�� I���m so sorry.�� Please forgive me for my sins, for the pain I have personally caused you.�� Thank you so much.�� Thank you for not giving up on me, even when everyone else���including myself���might.�� Thank you for loving me.�� I love you.���

Someday I hope to bathe His feet with my tears, but until that day, I daily renew my pledge to more fully, more humbly serve Him.

 

The Right Ending

The scene just wasn���t coming together.

I was writing a scene in my current horror novel work-in-progress���working title: The Sweet Sister���and the scene just wasn���t working.�� The scene was important and would introduce critical plot elements, conflicts, and characters.�� I knew what I wanted the characters to do.�� I knew what I wanted them to say.�� I knew what the outcome needed to be.�� I had been picturing this scene in my mind literally for YEARS.�� I had bits of witty banter, vicious jabs, and scathing retorts.�� It should have been great.�� But after THREE WEEKS of writing and tweaking it, the scene just wasn���t working.

It wasn���t like I could just abandon the scene and move on.�� Like I said, it was critical.�� I couldn���t just skip ahead in the story and come back to it later.�� Some writers can do that.�� I can���t.�� Every chapter layers flesh on top of the bones of the previous chapter.

I was as stuck as if I���d tried to go off-roading in an electric car during a blizzard, hopelessly blind, bottomed out, and spinning my wheels till my battery was exhausted (after the equivalent of 30-40 miles).�� So what was I to do?

I went to Choir, of course.�� I know that���s not an option available to every writer of LDS horror and sci-fi, but we all have our ways to serve, to leave our cares behind, and to immerse ourselves in service.�� We can go to the temple, we can teach a Sunday school or primary class, help a neighbor move or tend his or her garden or children, visit the sick, the infirm, the hospitalized, and the homebound, do genealogical research, or simply listen to a friend and provide a shoulder to cry on.�� We all have ways to serve.�� Mine was to go to Mormon Tabernacle Choir rehearsal.

And while I was sitting in the Tabernacle Choir loft, singing my heart out, not focusing on my own troubles, the answer came to me: the scene wasn���t working and would never work as written, because I was being dishonest.

Aspiring writers often ask me for advice.�� Four of the most important molecules of wisdom (such as it is) that I offer are:

Research, research, research, then research again;
Tell YOUR story, not the story you think others want to read;
Listen to your characters���they may come from your head, but they know who they are better than you;
Be honest���don���t force the story or characters to go in ways that aren���t honest.

All of these can be summed up in one word: honesty.�� Above all else, be honest.

Fiction (by definition) is not truth, but all great fiction must be true.�� As writers of fiction, we are telling parables, communicating truths wrapped in (hopefully) interesting prose, dialogue, conflict, action, love, sacrifice, courage, cowardice, lust, hatred, victory, defeat, achievement, failure, disappointment, heartache, hope, and all the heights and depths and glories of human experience.�� And if the story isn���t honest, it will never resonate in the human heart.

I was trying to force my scene to go the way I wanted, to force the characters to say what I wanted, to act in the way that advanced the narrative I was trying so desperately to foster.�� And that was the problem.�� My characters just wouldn���t be forced to act in a way that was contrary to their natures.

So, I scrapped the scene as written and started over.�� I let the characters behave and speak in a manner that was true to themselves, even if it didn���t advance my narrative.�� And once I did, the scene flowed.�� I didn���t write it; Peggy and Derek and the pagans wrote it.�� They acted it out, and I wrote it down.

And the scene was better���it worked.

And in the end, I still got to the place that I wanted to get to, that I needed to get to, and I learned more about who Peggy and Derek and the pagans were.�� And I did so honestly.

The truth is always better than a false or misleading narrative.

If we try to manipulate the truth by molding it to fit our agenda, if we leave out parts that don���t fit our narrative or exaggerate the importance of minor details to strengthen our position, we are no longer speaking the truth.�� And if we are not speaking the truth, we are lying.

And lies, in fiction and in life, can never lead us to a satisfying conclusion to our story.

When my youngest daughter finished my first novel, she came to me and punched me in the arm.�� Hard.

���What���s that for?��� I asked.

���You know why,��� she said, her pretty face twisted in an angry pout.�� ���You killed off [her favorite character].���

You see, she wanted the happy ending to the story that she had envisioned.�� But the ending she desired was not the right ending.�� It was not the honest ending.

���Yes,��� I said, ���but was it the right ending?���

She nodded.�� ���But I���m still mad at you.����� She glared at me.

I couldn���t help but smile.

And she still read the rest of the trilogy.�� (And lest you say, ���Well, she���s your daughter.�� She had to read it,��� I would like to point out to the ladies and gentlemen of the jury that my other daughters have not read any of my books.)�� And in the end, she was happy with the way the story concluded.

The right ending is always better.