The Newseum

Part of the Newseum's 9/11 display: salvaged wreckage of the broadcast antenna that stood atop the World Trade Center's North Tower and a wall of newspaper front pages covering the event.

Josh and I spent last Saturday in Washington D.C. visiting the Newseum, a museum housing a vast amount of artifacts from news-making history as well as galleries detailing the history of the news industry. The highlights can be viewed in a couple of hours, but we spent about four hours there and certainly didn't see everything thoroughly.

While there are a few exhibits that feature news made by commendable feats (the Neil Leifer sports photography gallery is a fascinating and beautiful example), the Newseum reflects that appalling acts most often make news. The Pulitzer Prize gallery makes this startlingly evident. The gallery contains a rounded wall displaying each Pulitzer Prize-winning photograph. Selected photographs, enlarged and accompanied by written commentary, hang in the room surrounding the wall. Nearly every photograph captures the terrible effects of evil: hatred, disease, starvation, death. We viewed each photograph, read each story. Though filled with visitors, the room was silent, and I left the gallery feeling sad and guilty. Since then, I've been thinking about the purpose of such photographs. What are the reasons for taking them, publishing them, praising them, displaying them, viewing them? Is there any good in doing so?

After thinking through it, I believe there is some good to be derived from such photographs. And while recording history, publicizing events, and promoting awareness are beneficial ends, the most significant purpose a graphic photograph serves is eliciting a response from the viewer. The photographer, publisher, museum, and photograph itself all hold power in drawing a visceral reaction. But the viewer must allow the photograph to achieve its greatest effect: the persuaded mind. 

Even considering this potential benefit, I still wonder about the use of such photographs. Explicit images should not be necessary to motivate efforts to overcome tragedy. Shouldn't a mere whisper of the existence of evil prompt one to act? 

Wonder

Nature displays the magnificence of its creator. And, I, a human, the pinnacle of creation, am made in the image of God. When I live authentically, as the person He created me to be, I not only express myself to the world, but also project Him by displaying His characteristics. Authentic living reflects the image of God embedded in the soul.

When I observe the natural world, I am overwhelmed. When I experience the product of God-implanted talent, I sense it to be something extraordinary. When I encounter people who exhibit His characteristics from within them, I am inspired. Realizing each revelation of the nature of God elicits wonder.

'Wonder' not only implies a feeling of awe, but also conveys a sense of curiosity, a desire to know more. It precisely captures the reaction to these experiences. Each glimpse of who He is, every insight into His nature, is both awe-inspiring and curiosity-inducing. I see part of Him, and I want to see more. Recognizing these glimpses for what they are, I am compelled to look for them all around and within me, piecing together the revealed evidence, learning more about who His is, and continually experiencing wonder.

Looking at the Invisible

Last summer, while thinking over a line in a piece I was writing, I began considering the composition of the soul. I drew a diagram based on my minimal existing knowledge, sensing both the knowledge and the diagram were likely faulty and certainly incomplete. I didn't pursue it further and later discarded the drawing. Several weeks ago, I was working on another piece and came to a point where it was essential to have at least a basic comprehension of the soul to continue. As I had done last summer, I started by drafting a diagram. This time, though, I have been relentless in my search for understanding.

The latest version appears simple: a few handfuls of circles, arrows, and labels. But the diagram itself, while meaningful, cannot convey the significance of acquiring the understanding to make it. It has led me to examine my foundational beliefs in minute detail. When I first began, I was surprised to find some of my beliefs were unintelligible notions or based on startlingly weak principles. A few conflicted with each other. I wasn't satisfied with this and started focusing on the ongoing process of defining and understanding my beliefs. I began researching and contemplating the nature of God, creation, the fall of man, sin, human nature, the knowledge of good and evil, the spirit, the mind, consciousness, conscience, the will, emotions, Mosaic Law, the incarnation, Christ's teachings, the atonement, sanctification and eternity. I have been dissecting and evaluating, reforming or eliminating beliefs judged deficient, weighing and adopting new, and praying for insight throughout. There have been moments of frustration when understanding was elusive and moments of gratitude when it came to light before me.

I have been continuously updating my diagram of the soul. Thus far, I have made over two dozen versions. I have written pages upon pages of notes. This process has proven practical, as it is not merely a matter of learning about a religion; it is a matter of understanding life. It is not only knowledge-imparting; it is purpose-revealing.

The formation and reformation of beliefs has, of course, been occurring in my mind since birth, as it has in every mind. I am now intensely aware of it, though, and pursue it with greater passion and purpose. It is thrilling to realize there is no point of conclusion. The truth of an infinite God can never be fully understood.

I am living, so I have time. And with each passing second, I have the choice of how I will spend my time. There are, of course, responsibilities dictated by the roles I hold, obligations resulting from commitments I choose to make. There are the time-consuming situations that arise outside of my control, collateral circumstances of living. Yet, while fulfilling these must-do and have-to moments, I still decide the way I live them. There is even time left completely to my discretion, that spent only as I wish.

Additionally, I have been granted various abilities. Some things I struggle to do, and some things I do well. These abilities also carry the option to be used as I determine, or even not at all.

Most significantly, I have been offered love. I can respond to it however I choose.

I have been given time; I have been given abilities; I have been given love. Each is wrapped in choice, a gift itself.

All of this compels me to ask myself again and again, forcing myself to realize the gravity of the question and the implications of its answer:

What am I doing with what I have been given?