Brother Morrison

Author: Megan Licious | |

Today I was thinking about an experience I had in seminary a couple of months ago.

Brother Morrison, our substitute seminary teacher, said one morning that he had been intrigued by what he saw in our class (probably evoked by our general attitude of unresponsiveness and tardiness). He asked us what our seminary experience was so far. He called on me, and I remember saying something to the effect of, “It depends on the teacher, even though it really shouldn’t. If you want to have a spiritual experience you will.” But all I could keep thinking instead, as it burned inside me, was: “Having a consistent spiritual experience is a group effort. Sometimes we’re reverent and sometimes we’re not. It depends on all of us, and that can be kind of hard.” It didn’t seem fair.

When we finally began with the lesson, we talked about Elijah crying out to the Lord. The scripture talked about how the Lord responded not in the wind or the earthquake, but in the still small voice thereafter.

Brother Morrison asked us about any experiences we had like this passage, and before I knew it, I had raised my hand and said, “We’re given trials that are hard and big sometimes, and all so that he can teach us one small thing. It’s a beautiful way to learn.” After that answer I couldn’t keep the tears. I got up and left to the bathroom. There I sat and pondered and experienced such a comfortable feeling. I felt uplifted and full. It seemed like an answer to a prayer I may not have known I was even giving, and a confirmation. I stayed in a bathroom stall and rested my cheek against the cold tile wall. When I finally went back to the room, class was over. “Are you okay?” Brother Morrison asked, and I answered that I was. He told me to have a good day and I said “You, too. And thank you.”

I guess I can endure the giggly whisperings of the sophomores for two more months. I can do my part.