Meridian Magazine :: Family Home Evening: God’s Money Laws

Meridian Magazine :: Family Home Evening: God’s Money Laws

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Meridian Magazine:: Line Upon Line: Explorations: Tasting the Light

Meridian Magazine:: Line Upon Line: I Want More . . .

Meridian Magazine:: Line Upon Line: I Want More . . .

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Meridian Magazine :: Myth of the Month: The First and Great Promise

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Meridian Magazine:: Line Upon Line: The Friday Minute—Be Where You Are

I've experienced this before from others who are too involved with their text messaging or phone calls, even though they are spending time with you. So frustrating. This is a great read!

Meridian Magazine : : Church Update: “I Just Had to Come”—On the Plane to Haiti

Meridian Magazine : : Church Update: “I Just Had to Come”—On the Plane to Haiti

Anne Perry :: Letters from the Highlands—January 2010: Needing to Believe this Journey Has a Destination

Anne Perry :: Letters from the Highlands—January 2010: Needing to Believe this Journey Has a Destination

Meridian Magazine : : Church Update: Boy Sings Primary Songs until Rescued in Haiti

Meridian Magazine : : Church Update: Boy Sings Primary Songs until Rescued in Haiti

Meridian Magazine :: You Tube: Peace is Coming—Artist Jon McNaughton

Meridian Magazine :: You Tube: Peace is Coming—Artist Jon McNaughton

Lost Five Days in a Mine

I received this in my email today from a friend. It is very inspiring and a good reminder that when we have faith in God in our difficult circumstances, He will come through for us. And sometimes within our own difficult times, comes strength for not only you, but others around you.

Meridian Magazine

Lost Five Days in a Mine

By Maurine Proctor

Everyone had given up on ten-year-old Josh Dennis, missing for five days, except one man.

It was already dark when Josh Dennis's scout troop had finished setting up camp and were squeezing their way in small laughing groups into the Hidden Treasure Mine in Utah's Oquirrh Mountains in that September, 1989. The mine was a chaotic labyrinth of shafts, chutes, pockets and tunnels on six different levels that wound some eight miles into the mountain. Since the scouts had been armed with safety rules and flashlights, the adventure loomed not as dangerous, but enticing, a scout's dream come true.

An engaging and tow-headed ten-year-old, Josh was still a Blazer and technically too young for the camping trip, but with his scoutmaster Dad,Terry and three other boys, he trekked down the long, black mine shaft where the flashlight beams played off the rough walls and the chatter and hooting of other scouts echoed. Then, Danny, a visually-impaired scout, who was disoriented by the long shadows and dark corners could go no farther. "I'll take you out," Terry volunteered. "Do you want to come with us, Josh?" Josh hesitated only a moment before he shook his head, saying he'd go ahead with Cary and Tyler.

Josh turned to tag along behind the other scouts, who, not realizing he was planning to follow, had moved fast. They were already a long way ahead, threading their way deeper into the mine without him, their voices growing dimmer. Turning back, Josh saw that his father, who had taken the flashlight, was already out of sight with Danny. Josh focused his eyes on the scouts' flashlights ahead, and hurried to catch up. He thought if he moved quickly enough, he'd be with them soon. However, in an instant they turned a corner, and their light disappeared, leaving him utterly alone in the blackness.

He started back toward the entrance again, blindly groping his way down what he was sure was the tunnel. Without any light he was immediately disoriented. The farther he went, the more confused he became, and he stopped for a few minutes until it fully hit him. He was lost and he was worried, though not panicked. At that instant, he knew by instinct what to do. "Dear Heavenly Father," he prayed. "Please help me to be all right."

Josh continued feeling along the wall, yet he didn't seem to be coming any closer to the mine entrance. No distant light offered any hope. Several times he stumbled against broken planks, and he sloshed through unseen puddles that froze his feet in the chilly air. He covered a distance and still no hint of the mine entrance. Finally, he took a turn that lead him up a slope. How steep it was he couldn't tell, but at last he settled on a ledge to wait for help, certain now that he couldn't find his way out alone. Josh hunched down against the cold wall and prayed again, a little boy's whispered words in a silent cave, "Help me."

Lost

Nobody seemed to know where Josh Dennis was. When Cary and Tyler emerged from the mine, he wasn't with them, and Terry, growing more anxious with every passing moment, started asking every cluster of scouts that emerged from the cave, "Have you seen Josh?"

=0 D

They said he wasn't in the mine; they said he wasn't in camp. Everyone was questioned and faces were blank. Terry was sure Josh was still in the mine somewhere, and so the scout leaders, some of them expert rappelers, went back into the mine searching pockets and crannies, dropping ropes down chutes and climbing down to check every forgotten hole. Josh, who apparently hadn't gone that far into the mine, now seemed somehow to have vanished.

By two thirty a.m., the Tooele County sheriff had been notified and some search and rescue were on site. By morning, 40 people were searching for Josh, questioning and questioning again everyone there. "Who last saw Josh?" It was all to no avail. Terry hoped Josh would be found before he had to notify his wife, Janeen, but as the desperate hours passed with no sign of Josh, it was clear she had to be told.

Telling Mom

It was late Saturday afternoon and Janeen Dennis, having run some errands, was just pulling into her driveway when a neighbor came up to her and asked, "Have the police gotten in contact with you yet? Have you heard? Josh is lost." The police and neighbors had been looking for her all over West Valley City, paging her at superstores, calling the malls. Now she was here, but nobody had details. As two of her friends drove with her west to Tooele County, the phrase kept drumming in her head, "Josh is lost. Josh is lost." As they got closer to the mine, a helicopter flew overhead and Janeen thought, Maybe they've found him already and he was being taken to the hospital.

As Janeen arrived at camp, however, the enormous gravity of the situation became clear. She saw her husband, Terry, who normally never cried. He was sobbing.

John Skinner

Long-time Tooele County resident and history buff, John Skinner, heard about the little boy that was lost in the Hidden Treasure Mine Saturday evening when he arrived back in town from Montana. Since John's grandfather had been the superintendent of the mine, and he had grown up exploring its hidden recesses, somebody at the sheriff's office thought he might have a map. He reported to the sheriff's office immediately volunteering his help, but a deputy said a map had been found, and everything was under control.

"Have you found him?" John asked. They hadn't, and he wondered how things could be possibly under control. How is it that they couldn't need his help? He decided to go up to the mine and see for himself, but only made it up to Stockton where the road was blocked. No, they didn't care how well he knew the mine, he wasn't needed there.

By Sunday, the entire nation knew about the ten-year-old lost in a mine in Tooele, Utah, and the news reports were grim. Not a trace of the boy could be found. Many were becoming sure he wasn't in the mine, but had wandered off somewhere into the gulches and draws of the surrounding mountains. Gas stations and convenience stores sprouted signs, "We love you, Josh." The Dennis home and yard was covered with yellow ribbons. Dogs had been brought to the mine to sniff out the youngster, and people everywhere wished their imaginations didn't travel so vividly to a black hole where a terrified little boy lay thirsty, freezing, and starving.

In priesthood that Sunday morning, John Skinner was praying for Josh, and something kept telling him that he had to get up there, that he had a key to finding the boy. He took a drive one more time to Stockton and one more time was stopped. If nobody needed John Skinner up by the mine, why did he feel so urgently that they did?

The Search Falters

Each hour that passed lessened Josh's chances of being found alive, and Janeen and Terry knew agony. During the day Janeen could keep her composure, but she lay awake crying all night. Terry, unable to eat, was growing weak. An idea kept impressing itself upon Janeen, so much so she started asking members of the rescue team about it. "Josh has gone up. He's up somewhere. Could he have crawled up something? Could he have hiked up a hill?"

Another thought returned again and again. On the way up to the mine, her neighbor, whose own daughter had been in a devastating car accident, had said, "Remember when you can't carry this burden anymore, ask the Lord to carry it for you." Staggering under the load of grief, Janeen was having to learn what that meant.

Turned Away

As Sunday turned into Monday, whenever John Skinner had a moment, he prayed for Josh, and the news media reported that few people still assumed that Josh could be in the mine. Searchers had combed every inch of it, their ribbons strung back and forth in multiple colors marking the places probed. Nothing. Today the search was opened for volunteers from the community to comb the surrounding hillsides. The numbers swelled, and Janeen Dennis' eyes anxiously scanned the hillsides looking for a flash of blue that could have been Josh's coat. But John Skinner, still pushed with the sense that he could find the boy, was not allowed near the mine. Having been turned away twice on the Stockton side of the mountain, he hatched an idea. He decided to go up the mountain on the Ophir side on a different unguarded road, and then go into the old Buckhorn mine which he knew connected with the Hidden Treasure.

Once in the Buckhorn, it took him hours to wind his way through the nooks and crannies of the abandoned mine. When he got to the place where the two holes joined, fallen timbers and rocks made it too dangerous to cross. He was foiled again.

As John came down the mountain on Monday night, he stopped for a soda. On a napkin, he drew a picture of the mine for a waitress and pointed out the place the thought Joshua Dennis was lost. She asked what scores of his friends had asked, "You've got so much knowledge; why don't they let you help them?"

John couldn't rest. He prayed, and he felt all but compelled to try again. On Tuesday, he finally made it up to the camp, and it was his worst encounter yet. "I know this area. I know the mine," he pled with authorities. "If you don't leave now, we'll escort you out," a deputy told him.

That night the newspaper read "Hope Fading Fast for Local Boy Lost Four Days," and Janeen and Terry, with hearts sinking, began to plan Josh's funeral. Some were saying that shortly the entrance to the mine should be blasted shut so that nobody could ever be lost in there again, It was a bad night for John Skinner, as a discouraging cloud sunk over his spirit. He kept praying about it, and three areas of the mine kept coming to his mind. When the television reporters said that authorities were becoming certain that Josh Dennis must have left the mine and gotten lost or met with foul play, John shook his head. He can't have gotten out of that mine with no lights. He's got to be in there. Maybe if he'd been less aggressive about it, they would have let him help. But now his involvement seemed hopeless.

Don't Give Up

John hardly slept that Tuesday night, tossing and turning and praying. When he awoke on Wednesday morning, he had an entirely new feeling. He was going to go up there, no matter what, and find Josh. As his wife later said, "Wild horses wouldn't have stopped him."

Wednesday was the last day of the search. A Utah Power and Light team from Carbon County, with high-powered, sophisticated experience in mine rescue, had been called onto the scene on Tuesday, and still the ten-year old had not shown up. Team member Ray Guyman had vowed, "If that boy is in there, we'll find him." Now, even his determination was waning as their repeated searches turned up nothing.

The UP&L team was standing by a truck, scanning a map of the mine. when John Skinner approached them, "Have you looked in the resolute stope?"

"You sound like you know this mine," one said.

"I do. My grandfather used to be the superintendent here."

"We've needed you. Where have you been? Would you mind coming in with us for one last sweep p before the rescue efforts wind down?"

The Search

It was 2:00 in the afternoon when Janeen, Terry, and their bishop and his wife knelt around the bed in the hotel room pleading through tears with God for Josh's life. Janeen said, "It was a prayer with real intent. and you could feel that it connected." At that same hour, John Skinner finally got into the mine, and while some who followed scoffed and went off different directions, Ray Guyman and Gary Christensen followed John.

They went to the first of the three places that John had been impressed to look. Nothing. They went to the second place. Nothing again. As they went to the third spot in the mine, they were talking and calling, "Josh, Josh," and suddenly Ray Guyman, who was deaf in one ear said, "Shh. Did you hear that?" They became still and listened. A faint cry came, "Help."

Different colored ribbons hung everywhere, showing that the area had been checked and rechecked by scores of people. How could the little boy have been missed? But the cry came again: "Help."

Cold chills went down John's back. He'd always known it. The boy was alive. For five days and nights he had held on. Neither terror, nor dehydration, nor hunger had taken him. Josh had seen their light and was able to answer. They climbed up a thirty degree angle, and Gary Christensen was the first to get him, a little boy sitting on a ledge with ruffled hair and a dirty face.

He had sunken eyes from dehydration and rocks in his hands because in his dreams he was eating a hamburger and drinking Sprite, but no sight could have looked better to three rescuers than Josh Dennis. "We'll take you out to your Mom and Dad,"

“Only my Dad's here, not my Mom. She's back home," he said, in a sentence whose meaning they would only later come to understand.

Found

Josh emerged from the mine to television cameras rolling, cheers, and weeping. By this time, the lost scout. who had seemingly vanished without a trace, had become a focus of the nation, and his rescue was a felt miracle by millions.

Janeen and Terry were resting in their motel room, when a knock came at the door. "Josh is alive. He's been found." She just looked toward the heavens and wept, "Thank you." They arrived at the hospital before their son, and one of Janeen's first views was of the blue coat she had strained to see on the mountain while searching for Josh. It was Josh, pale and tired, his toes frostbitten, and in that moment of exhilaration, Janeen thought, "He's so dirty."

Terry, who in his grief and stress had hardly eaten in five days, collapsed, and they put him on a gurney, too. Josh looked toward him and with the earnestness of a ten-year-old asked, "Oh, were you lost, too?"

Answered Prayers

Amidst the hubbub of greetings that surrounded Josh, he beckoned to Janeen and whispered, "Mom." She leaned over, and he whispered something that he never again would remember or repeat, "There were angels with me."

Headlines everywhere announced that Josh had been found and that he had prayed for help. Readers imagined the trauma of a helpless child at last coming to a happy end, but only his closest family and friends would ever know the rest of the story. He later described how he felt after his first prayer, "I knew that my Heavenly Father would protect me, no matter what. I didn't panic. I didn't feel like my life was in danger. I was calm and I never doubted."

For Josh it had been like floating in a bubble of protection. He had gone to sleep shortly after he had been lost, and awakened only once in awhile, when he heard a distant sound or felt uncomfortable. He hardly felt hungry or thirsty, and even though at the hospital they thought they might have to amputate his frostbitten toes, he hadn't felt cold. Nothing about the experience was traumatic for him. "It seemed to me like I had been lost only a few hours, when suddenly I saw a light in the distance and heard someone calling my name," he said.

The reason he was surprised to hear that both of his parents were outside, worried about him, was because he assumed it was still Friday, or maybe Saturday at mos t. "It's not Saturday, Josh. It's Wednesday," a rescue worker told him.

Josh Dennis had more than overcome the odds against death by exposure or dehydration, he had seen a miracle. And in God's masterful economy, his remarkable experience answered the needs of many others. Ben Lemon, an off-duty policeman, who had scoured the mountain searching, prayed his heart out for Josh, and vowed, "If this boy is found, I will change my life and go back to church." He did and years later told Josh, "It's because of you I have my two beautiful daughters." The new bishopric in Josh's ward had been seeking in prayer the solution to how to unify the ward. Josh's experience bonded his ward like few other things could have.

Janeen Dennis had been praying for challenges to help her grow, and she came to understand dependence on the Lord like she had never before experienced. John Skinner had wondered if he knew and understood when the Spirit spoke to him.

After his days of quiet urging to go find Josh, when nobody thought they needed him, he would not need to wonder that again.

Mission Farewell

Exactly nine years to the day since he emerged alive from the mine, Joshua Dennis sat on the stand at church at his mission farewell prior to his departure to Honduras. When Elder John Madsen of the First Quorum of Seventy arose to speak, the same faithful Josh who had so courageously endured five days in a mine, understood his experience in a new way.

"What does it mean to search?" Elder Madsen asked. "There's someone in this is audience who knows, and his name is John Skinner, because over and over again he was moved to try and get into that mine, and he was thwarted at every turn, but he could not be restrained.

"I believe it is our responsibility to search, to do whatever it takes and never give up. If we search the holy scriptures, we find out they are true. If we search the commandments, we find their promises will be fulfilled. As Joshua goes on his mission to Honduras, he will search, and he will not quit searching for those who sit in darkness and are waiting to be found and brought into the light.

"Josh will do whatever it takes to be a rescuer and bring souls to the one who truly rescues. Jesus Christ. The greatest rescue of all time was performed by the son of God who gave His body and His blood that all mankind might be redeemed."

At Thanksgiving, while Josh was still in the MTV, he wrote John Skinner a letter. "I've been pondering in my mind all day," said Josh, "the things that I'm thankful for, and the list never ends. I thought of you when I read this scripture in Mosiah 7:12, 'I am very thankful before God this day that I am yet alive, and am permitted to speak and I will endeavor to speak with boldness.' P.S.," Josh ended the letter, "I'm glad you know what it means to search."

A Summer to Remember - TOTW

A Summer to Remember
By Carolyn Allen

Let the summer begin! And Happy Memorial Day! Whether school is out or not, Memorial Day, May 25, 2009 launches a holiday mindset and marks the beginning of the summer season for Americans. This national holiday serves as a day to remember and memorialize those who have served in the military forces. It is easily forgotten, even in a time when our soldiers in distant lands make sacrifices. What will you do to memorialize this day and make it memorable?

Perhaps you could send a letter to a solider in the Middle East , or spend time with a vet to thank him or her -- if not today, then soon! Our favorite World War II vet, Leland McCants, of Springfield Virginia , is in our own Ward and will turn 95 this next September. We have him over for dinner regularly to soak in the great spirit of his life and hear his stories. He lost his precious wife Ruby to cancer nearly 16 years ago, a son to the war in Viet Nam , and recently a son-in-law with health problems, yet he steadfastly continues to live alone in a spotless town home where he cooks and cheerfully cares for himself. He is never seen without a smile on his face, a crisp white shirt and tie, an enthusiastic greeting and a cute joke. He reads constantly and is up-to-date on current events. He does his own taxes, enjoys talking about politics and is regularly invited to speak to the young men in our ward who need inspiration and direction. His spell-binding tales about his personal experiences during the Great Depression and World War II (which ultimately led to an outstanding and exciting lifelong career in the military and an opportunity to see the world) are an inspiration for all. He is quite a guy, and based upon his full engagement with life at this point, he may very well continue to live for a long, long time.

As we finished Sunday dinner with him at our home not too long ago, my husband asked a golden question. “Mack, how have you managed so well physically throughout all these years?”

Mack cleared his throat and emphatically said, “Well, I'll tell you! When I was a teenager working outdoors with my Dad one day, he watched me working up a pretty good sweat and pointed to my heart.”

”Son,” said my dad, “The Lord can only give you one body. And only you can take care of it. Do it!”

”That has stayed with me all my life,” said Mack. “I've had my problems, of course, but not from things that were within my control. I've asked the Lord to help me take good care of myself – and He has!”

Mack's life and continuing good health are an inspiring fulfillment of one of my favorite scriptures, Psalm 37:5:

”Commit thy way unto the Lord, trust also in Him; and He shall bring it to pass.”

Mack's long and healthy life is a tribute not only to his own self-discipline, but to his dad, and to the power of prayer and the Lord. God is ever-forgiving and, remarkably, so are our bodies! Perhaps it is because they are created by Him, the Master of Forgiveness, that our bodies will literally erase and forget years of neglect as they respond almost immediately to wiser eating and exercise. As the summer begins, Memorial Day and the beginning of June is the perfect time to commit ourselves to an increase in physical strength, energy, personal fitness and self-mastery.

Many of us enjoy a bit lighter work schedule during the summer. The longer days and warmer weather make it easier to exercise. Fruits and vegetables at an affordable abundance make it easier to eat natural, nutritious food. This Memorial Day can easily mark the beginning, if you decide to make it so, an unforgettable personal season of great purpose and great progress.
After all, the scriptures tell us so! ”To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1)

On Memorial Day family outing several years ago, I learned a valuable lesson and started a memorably summer season at our regional amusement park, Paramount Kings Dominion. There are enough roller coasters to thrill the most adventuresome teens, and enough flowers to thrill me. One of the rides that is fun for the whole family features a fabulous Imax/3-D theatre. After donning the 3-D glasses, we strapped ourselves into the action seats. That year the movie featured none-other than Sponge Bob Square Pants, the popular (though decidedly goofy) cartoon character.

The plot was ridiculous, of course: Sponge Bob needed a slice of dill pickle to make the perfect crab cake sandwich. As he reached for it, he spoke poetically: “Oh, little pickle! Fulfill your destiny!” Then the pickle slice was kidnapped by some crazy evil-doers and we were all tossed around in our action seats, like cowboys on a bucking bronco, as Sponge Bob chased the pickle slice and the kidnappers into the deep depths of the ocean until at last the pickle was rescued.

It was all incredibly silly, yet there was supreme power in Sponge Bob's request of the pickle: “Fulfill your destiny!” Food's purpose is to provide nutrition and please us. That is its entire, God-given destiny. We take advantage of that simple divine principle when we overeat with others or binge alone.

As we picnicked later that day, I did a little experiment. After blessing the food and inviting the Lord to be with us while we ate, I mentally said to myself, “Oh, little strawberries, fulfill your destiny!” I enjoyed them immensely. They fulfilled God's plan for them in a lovely way as I savored every one. I had one (one!) chocolate chip cookie that I also asked to fulfill its purpose. When the cookies came out later in the day, I was able to remember that I'd had my cookie, its destiny had been fulfilled and I didn't need to prove that fact with another one or two or three.

As I straightened the kitchen the next morning, I faced the remains of a large birthday cake. I side-stepped the frosting and nibbling it to death by thinking “No, its destiny was fulfilled when the family enjoyed it together. Put it away now.” And with a quick prayer, I was able to.

When you step back, everything we eat has a purpose or destiny, and when we can establish that purpose, we can establish ourselves, our own weight loss, and more readily see our own great purpose as well.

Between the Lord to make it eternal, a War Veteran to make it valuable and memorable, and a cartoon character to make it fun, how can we go wrong? Make a plan! Set a schedule! Get to the grocery store! Then memorize the scriptures and thoughts below and make them your mantra for your most memorably healthy summer ever!

Happy Memorial Day!

”Commit thy way unto the Lord, trust also in Him; and He shall bring it to pass.”
(Psalm 37:5)

“Only one body, only one me to take care of it!”
Brother Leland McCants

”To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.”
Ecclesiastes 3:1

“Fulfill your divine destiny!”
Sponge Bob

Relativism is Absolutely Wrong

Relativism is Absolutely Wrong
(seen on Meridian Magazine)

Editor's Note: This talk was given by Rabbi Miller at the National Day of Prayer Breakfast for the Newport Mesa Irvine Interfaith Council, May 7, 2009.

A Cambridge professor of philosophy, Simon Blackburn, attended an ethics forum in which representatives of the great religions held a panel.

First, the Buddhist spoke of the ways to calm, the mastery of desire, the path of enlightenment, and the panelists all said, “Wow, terrific, if that works for you that's great.”

Then the Hindu spoke of the cycles of suffering, of birth and rebirth, the teachings of Krishna and the way to release, and they all said, “Wow, terrific, if that works for you that's great.”

And so on, until the Catholic priest spoke of the message of Jesus Christ, the promise of salvation and the way to life eternal, and they all said, “Wow, terrific, if that works for you that's great.”

The priest thumped the table and shouted: “No! It's not a question of if it works for me! It is the true word of the living G-d, and if you don't believe it you are all damned to hell!”

And they all said: “Wow, terrific, if that works for you that's great.”

I do not offer this vignette because I endorse the priest's position. I do so because I respect the certainty of his faith's truth. His certitude is at odds with a society that recoils from moral absolutes, that is infatuated with moral relativity, that prefers to not judge one way of living and believing as superior to any other.

For the relativist there is no ultimate good or evil, no absolute right or wrong, no truth and no falsehood. They are simply what each person deems to be good, right, and true. As Shakespeare wrote in Hamlet : “There is neither good nor bad. But thinking makes it so.”

For the relativist, all expressions are equally valid. Everyone is correct by his own standards and unjudgeable by others. Everything is morally symmetrical. “Wow, terrific, if that works for you, that's great.” Protagoras said: " Man is the measure of all things ." What is morally wrong for me may be right for you. Opinions are unassailable.

The 20 th century was the worst arena of coldblooded evil in human history. Yet, large numbers of young people are unable or unwilling to make the simplest distinctions between right and wrong. Even horrific acts on the scale of Nazi genocide are declared to be unjudgeable. "Of course I dislike the Nazis," one upstate New York student told his professor, "but who is to say they are morally wrong?"

The same argument can apply to the terrorists of 9/11, or to the Somali kidnappers. We are more concerned over the human rights of pirates than their inhuman wrongs. The Marquis de Sade took relativist assumptions to a logical extreme: “If you prefer having a good dinner at a restaurant to hurting people, that is your prerogative, fine, and I don't judge you. But if I prefer hurting people, what grounds do you have for judging me?”

If there are no moral absolutes there are no moral absolutes. Moral relativity leads to moral equivalence. As Francis Beckwith writes: “When ethical judgments are relative and possess equal validity, we are led to the bizarre conclusion that Mother Teresa is no more and no less virtuous than Hitler.”

Relativists may object to cruelty, but on what basis? Because they happen to feel that it isn't nice? You must not target civilians? Says who? You must not discriminate against others? Says who? Every moral statement a relativist makes falls when confronted with the simple question, “Says who?” "Says I" is the only ultimate response a relativist can make.

During the Nuremberg trials, Nazi defendants claimed they were only following the laws of their land. In frustration, a judge asked, “But is there no law higher than our law?” A moral relativist would be forced to answer “no.” One who arrogates to himself the power to define right and wrong will most likely decide it by his whims and wishes, and will then rationalize his choice.

Hitler didn't deny that murder was wrong when applied to humans. So he defined Jews as vermin who spread moral disease. Exterminating them was not murder, but self defense. Any of us can find ideological excuses for doing what we want to do. Without clarity of what is murder, what are the lines that differentiate murder from self defense?

Moral systems created by human beings are valid only as far as their executor has the power to implement them. Without G-d, what prevails is the system of “might is right.” Of course, a person who doesn't believe in G-d can be good--many such live worthy lives. But we must appeal to G-d if we want to adequately answer the question, "Why should we be good?" Otherwise, the answer is simply up to you. If we do not follow the Ten Commandments, we end up following ten thousand personal desires. In this era of " moral deregulation," what is right is only what works for us.

In a class on ethics, I discussed a Kansas high school teacher who gave failing grades to a number of her students. There was no doubt they had cheated on an assignment. It was disturbing to my class to hear intelligent students at that high school justify themselves, admitting they would stoop to whatever it took to win admission to an elite university. It was disconcerting to my class to hear the parents of the failed students defend their children with ludicrous excuses. One parent said: “They may have cheated, but it was not intentional.” Another: “They were told to not cheat but they were not taught to not cheat.” It was distressing to my class to learn of the school board's capitulation to the parents' demand that the children's grades be raised to a passing level, and that the teacher's authority be overridden.

Where were right and wrong? Where were crime and punishment? …drowned in a sea of relativity, where college admission trumps morality. The ultimate blasphemy in the American religion of “ success at any cost ” is: “Thou shalt not fail.” In times past, getting caught in a moral misdeed was an embarrassment. Now, the scarlet letter does not have the scar it used to.

I pointed out to my class that we live in a morally polluted climate, an era of entitlement in which the end justifies the means. Today, if immoral conduct pays off, it is considered acceptable behavior. I taught the students that while there used to be two classifications of behavior, right and wrong, now there is a third definition of morality: “everybody's doing it.” I cautioned them that even if everybody is doing it, that does not make it right. The popularity of a sin does not make it permissible. The problem of wrongdoing is not solved by multiplication.

In the journal of Hillsdale College , philosophy professor Christina Sommers asks: “Are we living in a moral stone age?” She charges that today's young people are suffering from "cognitive moral confusion." They not only have trouble distinguishing right from wrong, they question whether such standards even exist. They are ignorant of and alienated from the Western moral tradition.

This was recently demonstrated, she writes, by Jay Leno during his popular "man-on-the-street" interviews. One night he asked young people questions regarding the Bible. "Can you name one of the Ten Commandments?" he asked two college-age women. One replied, "Freedom of speech?" Mr. Leno said to the other, "Complete this sentence: ‘ Let he who is without sin... '” Her response was, "Have a good time?" Mr. Leno then turned to a young man and asked, "Who, according to the Bible, was eaten by a whale?" The confident answer was, "Pinocchio."

As with many humorous anecdotes, the underlying reality is not funny at all. These young people are morally confused. Ask them if there are such things as right and wrong and the answer would no doubt be, "It's kind of like whatever works best for the individual. Each person has to work it out for himself.” The trouble is that this kind of answer, which is so common as to be typical, is no better than the moral philosophy of a sociopath.

Allyson Hornstein from Yale University writes: “On the morning of September 11 th , 2001, my entire college campus huddled around television sets, our eyes riveted in horror to images of the burning, then falling, Twin Towers. By evening, there were candlelight vigils where people sought to comfort and be comforted. But by September 12 th , as our shock began to fade, so did our sense of being wronged. Student reactions expressed in the daily newspaper and in class pointed to the differences between our life circumstances and those of the perpetrators, suggesting that these differences had caused the previous day's events. Noticeably absent was an outcry of indignation at what had been the most successful terrorist attack of our lifetime. These reactions and similar ones on other campuses have made it apparent that my generation is uncomfortable assessing, or even asking, whether a moral wrong has taken place.”

In a college seminar on September 12 th , 2001, a professor said he saw little difference between suicide bombers and American soldiers who died fighting in World War II. The students nodded in agreement when the professor said that both were fighting for their ways of life in declared "wars." The professor and the students could not see the distinction between American soldiers in uniform who did not target civilians, and suicide bombers who wear plainclothes and do target civilians. One student then cited poverty and colonialism as justifications for terror. Not one of them questioned its morality. Nothing, to these students, was objectively wrong if you are downtrodden and oppressed, you have an excellent excuse to commit terror.

At a lecture on the Middle East that I presented at UC Irvine, a young woman said that she could understand that poor people, who had been discriminated against would use any means, including suicide bombings, to ameliorate their plight. I invited her to contemplate an analogy. I offered that few people on earth were as brutally oppressed as African Americans through centuries of enslavement and brutal segregation. What if Dr. King, I inquired, had advised young African American men and women to strap on explosives, enter restaurants and shopping centers, religious observations and social gatherings, and murder innocent men, women, and children? Would that be justifiable? “Yes, it could be,” she answered. She would sympathize with a desperation that left no alternative. When I said Dr. King proved that there is another way and that resorting to violence is never acceptable, the expression on her face registered pity for my antiquated perspective.

It was not always thus. When Jefferson wrote that all men have the right to "life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness," he did not say, "at least this is my opinion." He declared it as an objective truth.

I proposed an experiment to my class comprised of young teens. I asked the students to close their eyes and point northward. I then told them to keep their finger pointed, open their eyes and look at their classmates. They saw that there were fingers pointing every which way, from pole to pole and east to west. I taught them that we cannot, from within, point ourselves in the right direction. We need a compass to find our ethical true north. I remember Jeb Stuart Magruder's testimony over his role in the Watergate cover-up. He lamented, “Somewhere between my ambition and my ideals, I lost my moral compass.” Without external authority, without transcendent commandments, without a moral compass that points due north, we go astray.

Religion stands for timeless truth, calling upon us to distinguish clearly between good and evil. It does not accept that we are morally autonomous beings who are permitted to act by our own standards. A society that removes G-d as its moral barometer does so to its great peril. Absolute good means that whatever is good at one time and at one place is good at all times and at all places. What is good for one person is good for all persons. Good is revealed by G-d; it is not invented by man. G-d did not place Adam and Eve in the garden to make up the rules as they went along.

No one can be a moral and righteous person without yielding to a binding set of rules other then his own. If man is left to decide for himself what is right or wrong, he will always set the standards to fit his own drives and desires. How long can a society exist when based on an attitude of “Wow, if that works for you, that's terrific?”

A man underwent a physical exam. It was discovered that he was in a serious condition. “The best thing you can do,” the doctor warned, “is to give up drinking, smoking, and carousing.” After a moment's thought, the man asked, “What is the next best thing?” The next best thing is useless. A little morality is of little avail. When our young adjust to evil, rather than stand out against it, they are crawling down a road to a bad end.

We hear today that there is a new morality. But the so-called “new morality” is just a new name for the same old immorality. We hear calls for a new code of ethics to govern behavior and confront malfeasance. We do not need to create a new code of ethics. The old is the only one that matters.

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What it comes down to for me? Exactly this: When God speaks, and we follow, we will always be right. Above it states "if we do not follow the Ten Commandments, we end up following ten thousand personal desires." --- this is SO true. God has literally given us the guidance we need, the plan we need to reap our rewards, to be blessed, to have lasting happiness, to be whole in our lives. Yet, so many seek out the worldly things of this life instead of believing not only in God, but believing God. When we believe God, we grow spiritually, mentally, and physically. Our testimonies bloom, we take the path that leads us to the greater goodness of life - and the whole reason for our being here in the first place.

"Good is revealed by God, not by man." This is excellent and so true!