Environmental Stewardship

When questions are asked about the conservation and preservation of the Earth, many members of the LDS Church rely on the belief that the earth will be miraculously healed at the time of the Lord's Second Coming. For many this justifies a careless attitude toward nature. They shrug at the notion of drilling in ANWR or the plight of the planet due to global warming. If we examined some of our core beliefs about our relationship to God and His creations, however, we would quickly see that as Latter Day Saints we have a clear responsibility to be stewards of the environment.

We believe that Jehovah created the earth. 1 Col 1:16 says that, "by Him were all things created, that are in heaven, and that are in earth . . . all things by Him and for Him." Because the earth was created by Jesus Christ, it is a testament of his divinity. Alma taught this to Korihor whe he said, "all things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it." Many have felt the whisperings of the Spirit when they are surrounded by God's creations. Every time I go hiking I am amazed a the complexity and beauty of the earth, and it is a powerful witness of the Creator. Joseph F. Smith taught that "Men cannot worship the Creator and look with indifference upon his [creations.] Love of nature is akin to love of God." He also taught that "Nature helps us to see and understand God. To all His creations we owe an allegiance of service and profound admiration."

When God placed Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, He commanded them to "be fruitful, and multiply and replenish the earth, and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth." This dominion was given to man, not taken, and it is not license for unrighteous dominion. The warning of D&C 121 is very apparent in the way man has exploited the earth, "We have learned by sad experience that it is the nature and disposition of almost all men, as soon as they get a little authority, as they suppose, they will immediately begin to exercise unrighteous dominion." Rather than viewing the environment as subject to us, we should view ourselves as stewards of God's creations. In D&C 104:13, the Lord said, "It is expedient that I, the Lord, should make every man accountable, as a steward over earthly blessings, which I have made and prepared for my creatures." George Handley points out that "it is because we are at the center of God's creation and because we are given stewardship over the earth that we are held moraly responsible and accountable to God for our interactions with all living things." The earth and all living things were created for divinely appointed purposes and our responsibility is to ensure that those purposes are fulfilled.

The Lord promised us, as stewards of the Earth, that as long as we are wise and righteous, there will always be enough resources. In D&C 104:17, the Lord says, "The earth is full, and there is enough to spare; yea I prepared all things." In D&C 59:16-20, the Lord says,

16 Verily I say, that insasmuch as ye do this, the fulness of the earth is yours, the beasts of the field and the fowls of the air, and that which climbeth upon the trees and walketh upon the earth;
17 Yea, and the herb, and the good things which come of the earth (petroleum?), whether for food or for raiment, or for houses, or for barns, or for orchards, or for gardens, or for vineyards;
18 Yea, all things which come of the earth, in the season thereof, are made for the benefit and the use of man, both to please the eye and to gladden the heart;
19 Yea, for food and for raiment, for taste and for smell, to strengthen the body and to enliven the soul.
20 And it pleaseth Go that he has given all things unto man; for unto this end were they made to be used, with judgment, not to excess, neither by extortion.

As long as we are prudent and do not overexploit our resources, the Lord has given the fulness of the earth to us. However, if we condone greed and gluttony, we risk losing those blessings.

We do believe that the Earth will receive its paradisiacal glory in the millennium. This does not mean that when the Lord comes again He will simply fix all the problems we have created. We must avoid the "myths of millennial cleanup" which justify inertia and inaction. We can't assume the planet will be miraculously restored. We know that it will be renewed, but we dont' know if that renewal will be automatic or instantaneous. It might require as much as careful, dedicated work as the original planting of the Garden of Eden. We might spend as much as time gardening as we will doing temple work. Brigham Young taught that restoring the earth to a pristine condition is what the Lord requires of the Latter Day Saints. He also taught that only after the Saints had learned to live in harmony as stewards one with another and with the earth could they expect to inherit it from the Lord who owns it. We might as well get a move on it.

Vampires

Last night I did a very emasculating thing . . . I watched Twilight. Wow. We were talking about something to do and decided to have a theme night. We bought some garlic bread and strawberry daiquiris, and my brother-in-law made some amazing roasted garlic potato soup. I wasn't expecting much from the movie, and I wasn't disappointed. What tawdry garbage! I can see why women of all ages love it. Who hasn't fantasized about an icy, undead demigod with sparkling skin? Steve pointed out that his sparkling skin looked more like sweat than diamonds, but whatever. The movie did provide a plethora of comedic fodder, and would be perfect for Mystery Science Theater. We ourselves got a little carried away in lampooning the film, forgetting that some people in the room actually liked it . . .

I don't think vampire movies are inherently bad though. Quality writing and cinematography can make any story interesting to watch. Two weeks ago I watched the coolest vampire movie ever, Let the Right One In. It was made in Sweden, and told a refreshingly beautiful story while still incorporating the classic vampire elements, like a vampire bursting into flames when exposed to sunlight. The film depicts the relationship between a young boy, Oskar, who is constantly bullied at school and a young vampire girl named Eli. Of course the boy doesn't know she's a vampire, initially, but when he does find out their relationship is far too interdependent to sever. The movie ends with some sweet payback to the bullies, as well as some ambiguity as to Eli's true identity. Overall it was very surreal and bizarre, but the production design and photography were incredible. I give it 4 stars.

Hurst

Earlier this evening I was at my MCAT prep course, and I got a phonecall. Slightly annoyed that someone was calling me during my class, I pulled my phone out and was startled by the name on the phone: Hurst. My initial impression was to just put my phone back in my pocket and call him back at the end of class, but then I remembered how sporadic and unpredictable Hurst is, and I realized he could be driving through Provo that very minute. Since returning from Ukraine, we had tried to connect a couple times, but we'd never succeeded. With a certain degree of panic I jumped out of seat during class and dashed out the door to take the call.

Turns out my instincts served me well. Hurst was in the area, and he wanted to drop by tonight. I got all giddy on the phone and insisted he come by at 8:30. I gave him the address and went back to my class. Class wasn't supposed to end til 9:00, but I finished my test early and checked my answers with the teacher and I was on my way.

Hurst drove up with his fiancee, Natalie, and I met them outside on the street. I'd forgotten how much taller he was than me, and gave him a big man hug. This was a man who had a profound influence on me in Ukraine. My experience there would've been very different if I hadn't met him, and he became one of my best friends out there.

Hurst came to Ukraine when I was still a youngster in the mission. He was assigned to Mariupol, where I was currently serving. Since he was now officially the newest person in our city, I felt a special responsibility to help him adjust to the new life. On the busride from Donetsk to Mariupol I asked him what his favorite band was. "The Shins," he said. I almost peed my pants. What's your favorite movie? "Rushmore." I knew I was going to love this guy.

Hurst was older than all of us, and had a lot more life experience. At 24 he'd been working on his doctorate, and then one day decided to serve a mission. He was an expert in British history, and would often tell us long, drawn out stories of this battle or that. He rapidly became a beloved addition to the mission.

I had the good fortune of serving with Hurst again in the small city of Sumy. This was a particularly difficult time of my mission because I had issues with my assigned companion, but Hurst saved my life with his good humor and down-to-earth philosophy on life. He is one of those people you just can't make mad, and if he does get a little annoyed, it blows off pretty fast. We had some good times up in that ridiculous city.

Fortune smiled on us again at the end of my mission when I was assigned to the city of Donetsk. First I was Hurst's zone leader in outpost of Obyedinoni when he was in Makeevka, so I received phonecall reports from him every night. After six weeks there I was moved to center Donetsk, and we were able to go on exchanges and hang out often. We'd talk about movies and music and life, and he'd shop second hand stores for me to find Lacoste items. I still have a sweet tie and multiple shirts and sweaters thanks to that man.

I hadn't seen Hurst since July 2007, so it was an amazing delight to get to see him and meet his fiancee tonight. It was a refreshing reminder that people are really the only thing that matter in this life, and Hurst is one person I want to see again. So I guess this was a salute to Hurst.

Y

Forgive me for not writing about this yesterday. I was swamped with homework and I fried my brain. Writing isn't very fun when your brain is smoking.

So Ashton picked me up at 11:45 to head to the OB clinic. Usually that place is packed with women with bulging bellies, but yesterday we hit a good time. We were invited to descend into the basement where the ultrasound tech was waiting for us. She had Ashton climb up on the reclined bed and I sat down next to her. Then my mind was polluted with some images from the movie Juno, as I thought, "This is just how they were sitting. . . except their tech was a jerk."

The tech squirted a bunch of hair gel on Ashton's belly and turned off the lights. The Christmas morning anticipation began to build up as we awaited the first images of our unborn. The tech placed the knob on Ashton's abdomen, and some fuzzy amorphous images popped up on the screen. She rubbed it around and I tried to orient myself. Just weird blurs and inkspots. Oh, oh a hand! A beautifully crafted miniature hand, with jointed fingers and a palm! The hand was surprisingly distinct, and then the baby pulled it back into the abyss of Ashton's uterus.

The novelty wore off after about five minutes. I sat impatiently, watching the tech take measurements and label the placenta, yada yada yada. I really just wanted to know the gender, and this tech was acting like she had all day. Nervous anticipation began building again, and the wait was torturous. Finally the tech paused the frame and asked, "Are we wanting to know what it is?" Well we're assuming it's a baby. Yes! Tell us what it is already! That's really what we're paying you for! I mean, I was glad that it had all its limbs and seemed to be a normal size, but I really just wanted the coin toss to be over. The tech pointed at the frame and said, "Now that's a leg there, that it's got up, so it's blocking our view . . . " and then she pointed down and to the left, "And that's a little boy part."

A little boy part! A phallus. a water pistol, a Y chromosome magnified a million times! The implications are endless. My progeny will carry the Jenkins name! He will have the birthright! The rest of our children will have an older brother, an example, a whipping boy. He'll be a future priesthood holder, a missionary, and one day a father like me. I like this kid already.

It should be noted that we were kind of hoping for a girl, just because we already had a name picked out. The battle for boy names has yet to be resolved. We'll probably have to put it to a vote to avoid a bloody conflict.

Funeral Postponed

Yesterday we were outside trying to change the license plates on the Camry. One of the bolts was too rusted and stripped to get out so we had to improvise. While we were working on this, we let Galya out to hang out on the lawn with us. Usually we keep her in the backyard so she doesn't peck on our windows with her muddy beak, and there's been some weirdos coming around to play with her late at night. Anyway, she was out on the lawn with us taunting the boxer puppy across the street. The boxer was going nuts, prancing and whimpering and running to the end of her leash. We watched her with amusement and continued jimmyrigging the license plate. In a flash the boxer was across the street and in our yard, practically on top of Galya. She had bolted hard enough that her collar had popped off, and she sprinted after the duck. Galya let out quacks of distress and flapped her wings as she darted back and forth. She was surprisingly elusive, but the boxer increased in her tenacity and we were forced to intervene. I blocked the dog while Ashton scooped up Galya. We put her in the safety of the backyard and turned to deal with the dog. The boxer was so worked up at this point that she ran down our stairs and into our basement apartment. Apparently someone had left the door open. I flew down the stairs and yelled at her to get out, and she promptly dashed back up the stairs and across the street. We couldn't help but laugh at the whole ordeal, and were glad Galya lived to see another day -- until she started quacking at 7:00 a.m. the next day . . .

Dental Emergencies

Yesterday I was nibbling on a fingernail (gross, I know, but it's a habit) and suddenly my bottom incisor crumbled. I looked at my finger and there were three or four chunks of tooth perched on the tip. My tongue involuntarily found the now jagged incisor, and my eyes widened with dismay. I took off to the bathroom and looked in the mirror to confirm the disaster. I had no idea teeth could do that.

Later that night we were babysitting three boys for a family I home teach. In my opinion, you're not being a good babysitter unless you get a little rowdy with the kids, so of course I didn't oppose them tearing all the cushions and pillows off the couch to dive into. Things were going fine until the four year old jumped onto the two year old and smashed his mouth. Within seconds he was bawling and I was trying to access the damage. His gums were bleeding a little, and the more I tried to help him the more he screamed. Just then his grandmother arrived, and hearing his screams, began pounding on the door and shouting his name. We opened the door and she rushed into the room shouting, "What happened?" and wrapping her arms around the unfortunate kid. This lady was something else. She was your classic social worker who probably needs a social worker, and she certainly didn't help deescalate the situation. She kept making references to his tooth falling out or breaking off, which only intensified his crying. "He's going to have to see the orthodontist or get a root canal!" she howled. My wife rushed to the store to buy some popsicles while I stayed with the lunatic grandma and child, trying to calm them both down. In the end the popsicles were an inspired idea, and the moment he got one in his mouth, the floodgates turned off and he said, "My tooth doesn't hurt anymore." Talk about theatrics.

Rock, Paper, Scissors

Last night I played the highest stakes game of rock, paper, scissors of my life. One of our residents needed a new bag for his colostomy. I rummaged through boxes in his room looking for one, but the only stocked bags had open bottoms and required a clamp. I ran all over the building looking for a clamp but returned empty-handed.

I asked my charge nurse what I should do. He looked me very solemnly and said, "You'll have to empty it, wash it out and re-use it." My eyes narrowed with incredulity, and we stared at each other for about ten seconds. The nurse could see my hesitation, and, with a little cockiness in his voice, announced, "I'll rock, paper, scissors you for it."

I laughed. Louder than I should've had at 2:30 in the morning in a nursing home. "Okay," I replied. "Let's go."

We faced each other in the hallway, and I assumed my best rock, paper, scissors stance.

1,2,3! My scissors beat his paper. 1,2,3! Both scissors. 1,2,3! His paper beats my rock. 1,2,3! Both rock. 1,2,3! I drop scissors, he drops rock.

It was a defeat which had a very particular smell to it.

Creation and Evolution

I attended a lecture today entitled "An Approach to Understanding the Purpose of the Creation Accounts." It's part of the series of lectures dedicated to Darwin's birthday (which is tomorrow). Many people, myself included, were led to believe that it would discuss evolution in the context of the Creation because the official announcement said the lecture was titled, "An Approach to Understanding the Creation." A subtle difference, but an explicit example of false advertising. My guess is they really wanted to fill the seats, and they did. Unfortunately not everyone left satisfied.

It was given by Terry Ball, Dean of Ancient Scripture at BYU. The room was totally packed, with people sitting in the aisles, on the floors and standing around the perimeter and out in the halls listening. Luckily I got there ten minutes earlier, anticipating such a crowd. Apparently everyone wanted to understand a religion professor's take on evolution. Unfortunately that wasn't the thrust of the lecture. Dr. Ball talked about the importance of understanding what kind of questions the creation accounts actually answer. He made it very clear that the accounts were given to answer the questions of "Why?" and "Who?" The earth was made for the children of God to inhabit, to keep their second estate, and it was created by Jesus Christ, and likely by others with Him. Of course I already knew the answers to these questions, but it was an interesting point.

At the end of the lecture Dr. Ball opened it up for questions. Finally the hungry wolves were loosed and hands shot up everywhere. It didn't seem like anyone could tactfully phrase their question well enough, because everyone sounded like the devil's advocate. Questions were asked about the vast time period required for evolution to occur, the Fall of Adam and whether the accounts were figurative. Dr. Ball sidestepped most of their questions and usually turned them into hilarious jokes.

For instance, when a man asked if Adam was really 900 something years old, Dr. Ball said, "We don't know for sure. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn't. If I was betting YOUR temple recommend on it, I'd say he was." That got a pretty good response.

One difficult question that he fielded was about the human pedigree. What are we to think of the fossils of primitive hominids that resembled men, which are dated several million years ago? He made it clear that the Church has one position on the origin of Man, and that is that we were created by God and in His image. BYU put together a packet back in 1992 to help biology students gain some insights into the Church's position, commonly referred to as the "Origin of Man" packet. This packet contains official statements from prophets, especially Joseph Fielding Smith, and the only time it actually mentions the word "evolution" is in a statement that "man is evolving into a god." He then stated his personal opinion is that there were pre-Adamite hominids, and that they had evolved from other species, but when God created Adam, he was creating a new species. However related to those other hominids man is by his DNA, he was still created by God and in His image.

Another interesting question he answered was related to the Garden of Eden. How can one simultaneously believe in evolution as the engine for Creation and the Garden of Eden, in which nothing could die? Evolution and speciation can't happen if animals aren't dying.

Of course he couldn't give a definitive answer to this, and he made it very clear that Church doesn't have an official position on it. He said that there are two prevalent theories that circulate throughout our church and among other Christians. One is called the "It is good" theory. It basically states that God created the first organisms and let them evolve to a point that He thought, "It was good," and then He placed the Earth in a paradisiacal state, including the Garden of Eden. Then Adam and Eve were placed in the garden, and the rest is history.

The other theory is called the "40 acre" theory, which basically states that the Garden of Eden was an isolated patch of paradise in the midst of a world that was still evolving. While they lived in the garden animals were reproducing, dying and speciating. When Adam and Eve fell, they were expelled out into that lone and dreary world. Both are compelling to me, but I'm more inclined to go with the latter theory.

When all is said and done, however, we really can't figure it out on our own. If God ever wants to reveal the hows and whats of the Creation, He'll do it through His prophet. I personally don't think we'll learn this mystery till we're resurrected. Dr. Ball agreed and made the remark that we'd learn it all in Godhood 695 R. "It is an R class," he said.

ORCA

The Office of Research and Creative Activities sent me an e-mail yesterday saying I was awarded a grant for a proposal I submitted back in November. The total award is 1500 bucks, but I'm splitting it with a lab buddy who also worked on the project. He came up with the idea, and I wrote the grant proposal. Today we joked around that he paid me 750 bucks to write a grant for him, and I said I bought the idea from him for 750 bucks. Whatever the case, neither of us actually thought back in November that we'd get the money. Our professor required us to submit a proposal as part of the overall research process. I was brand new to the lab, and a little frantic because I had no idea what my research options were. My fellow labster came up with a decent idea, which my professor helped flesh out, and I offered to help write the grant for it. It turned out I wrote the whole proposal (and it was pretty good, if I say so myself) and we turned it in. Assignment completed. I'd totally forgotten about it and last week they contacted my buddy to get some of his personal info. We got all excited and waited nervously as they continued moving back the date of announcing grant recipients. And then, BOOM! Yesterday I checked my e-mail, and there it was.

Now how do I spend 750 bucks? You'd assume that I would spend the money on research. Our lab is already plenty funded. My professor is an expert proposal writer and gets us money from National Science Foundation and all over. He tells us if we get a grant, it's "pizza money." I don't think I could stomach 750 bucks worth of pizza, but I have considered buying 750 onesies for my unborn child, or 1500 cans of soda. When it comes down to it, though, I'm sure it'll go to the nebula I call savings.

Hemingway

Last night marked another wonderful graveyard shift at the nursing home. For the last few weeks they've been putting me at the west nurse's station, which is the rehabilitation unit. Most of the residents there have acute issues and are usually recovering from surgeries or respiratory illnesses. This makes for a much more alert and coherent crowd, and that keeps the call lights ringing all night.

I've been trying to finish up A Farewell to Arms, but over the last month or so I've been averaging about ten pages a shift because the residents keep me busy. For whatever reason, I wasn't super swamped last night, and I found time to finish the second half of the book.

When my charge nurse saw me reading A Farewell to Arms, he started to harass me. "Please tell me you're reading that for a class! Why would you ever read Hemingway?! I can judge so much about your character just by the fact you're reading Hemingway." This from the guy who listens to School House Rock and Bloodhound Gang on his i-Pod.

"Why don't you like Hemingway?"
"He's sooo depressing! Think of the most miserable unhappy ending to any plot, and you've got a Hemingway story."

True, most of Hemingway's stories are filled only with drinking, smoking, somber dialogue and failing relationships. I guess that's why they call it the Lost Generation. Something about his writing, however, is still very engaging and enjoyable. It's a unique style of prose, and sometimes the inebriated conversations are quite insightful.

My charge nurse hadn't read A Farewell to Arms, but he insisted that I come up with the worst possible conclusion for the book, and that would be the actual ending. With 50 pages to go, I predicted the death of Catherine's baby. I thought it would be a little over the top to predict Catherine's death too, and I was holding on to a shred of hope that she'd survive the book.

With 4 pages to go, the Catherine's nurse explains to Henry that the baby is stillborn. No surprise there. Surely, I thought to myself, with 3 pages to go, Catherine will live. Imagine my dismay when on the second-to-last page, Catherine suffers severe hemorrhaging and dies in the matter of a paragraph. You've done it again, Hemingway. And there's my charge nurse, dancing to Wolf Creek Pass, and gloating at the fulfillment of his prophecy.