A Covenant Relationship

We have a secret code in our family—three hand squeezes means “I love you.” When my son Russell was little, he always gave my hand five squeezes. I assumed he just couldn’t count very well yet. Then one day I asked him what five squeezes meant, and he said, “I love you way much!”

Whenever I tell my little granddaughters I love them, they usually respond by saying, “We love you more!”

Then I say, “I love you the most.”

Then, trying to top me, they say, “We love you from the heavens to the mud!” My little grandsons are not really speaking too much yet, so when I tell them I love them they usually just grunt and run off to find Grandma.

Young children understand love, and they know that for it to truly exist it takes at least two people. Grace is not one-sided either. Like love, grace recognizes—even requires—a relationship. Elder Bruce C. Hafen and Marie K. Hafen wrote that many Christians see “grace as a one-way infusion, not as the two-way interaction it really is.”1

Some Christians say grace is a gift that comes without any obligation. “Otherwise it is not a gift,” they reason. However, in his book Relational Grace, Brent J. Schmidt, a religious education faculty member at BYU–Idaho, explained that grace is a gift that requires a response from us. He performed an in-depth analysis of the literary and cultural contexts out of which the Greek word charis emerged—the very word that was translated as grace or favor in our current scriptures. His conclusion was that anciently, grace was seen as a bond or pact between two people—even a binding covenant. It was a gift, but one that brought with it reciprocal obligations. He wrote, “Reciprocity is a gift-giving convention that is used almost universally by humanity to create social relationships.”2

I am not an expert in ancient cultures or in the Greek language, but, like a child who understands love, it is easy for me to see that grace requires a relationship. It seems incomplete to receive a gift and not be able to respond in a way that the giver would appreciate.

That said, there are many reciprocal relationships that don’t accurately reflect the relationship we have with God or the reasons for His expectations of us. I don’t see God as a self-interested business partner or a covenant as a take-it-or-leave-it contract. I see a loving relationship.

After speaking of Alma’s invitation for people to come into the fold of God and to be called His people, President Henry B. Eyring said, “Alma knew the covenant was not like a business deal—‘you do this for God, and God will do this for you’—but it was an opportunity for them to become His, to become God’s people. Every covenant with God is an opportunity to draw closer to Him.”3

Similarly, author Truman G. Madsen has written, “Covenant keeping is not a cold business deal but a warm relationship.”4

Perhaps the reciprocal relationship within which we receive the “grace he showeth” (Hymns, no. 299) is best understood using some of the descriptions provided by Jesus. He taught that His special relationship with us is similar to a nurturing adult and a child, a vine and a branch, companions yoked together, the good Samaritan and the injured traveler, and a bridegroom and a bride.

Nurturing Adult and Child

When Jesus said, “Suffer little children to come unto me” (Luke 18:16), He may not have had only children in mind. When He gathered His Apostles together for the last time in His mortal life, He called them “little children” (John 13:33). These were grown men who were destined to change the world, yet Christ called them His little children. Relational grace can be seen in the context of a loving parent or caring teacher and a child.

I have been blessed with many wonderful teachers at every phase of my life, but Julia Golding was there for me at an important turning point. She was called to be my Primary teacher when I was eleven. She told the bishop she did not consider herself to be a very good teacher—especially for a class of all boys. Nevertheless, she accepted the call and served diligently. She often began her lessons by apologizing that we got “stuck” with her. Then she proceeded to touch the life of every boy with her love and testimony.

I remember her helping us memorize the Articles of Faith and various scriptures. I recall her enthusiastic retelling of stories from the scriptures and Church history. I can’t hear the story of the conversion of Alma the Younger and the sons of Mosiah without thinking of how I felt as Sister Golding told it. I can’t hear “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief” (Hymns, no. 29) without remembering the touching way she described Joseph Smith asking John Taylor to sing it in Carthage Jail. I remember her telling us how Heber J. Grant persevered to improve his handwriting and challenged us to always strive toward worthy goals.

Most of all, I remember how she reached out to me personally. I was not inactive, but she could see that I was not part of the circle of friendship the other boys enjoyed. I spent several childhood years in Ethiopia, Africa, where my father was working to improve the quality of education. Sports were not part of my life in Addis Ababa. When our family returned to the United States, I became painfully aware that I did not know how to play basketball, baseball, and football the way the other boys did. I felt excluded at school and church. Sister Golding reached out to include me.

I remember her showing interest in my interests. At the time, I was taking piano lessons and also spent hours drawing house plans. She asked me to play the songs I was learning for her and invited me to give her ideas as she remodeled her home. She “hired” me and another boy in the class, Lindsay, to help her sell apples at a roadside stand. Not only did that make me feel important, but it also gave me a lot of time to talk and bond with Lindsay, who became a good (and much needed) friend. I remember her making special arrangements for me to help with the Cub Scouts in the ward during their weekly meetings. Helping those younger children awakened in me a love of teaching that has lasted throughout my life.

Long after I left her class and she was released from her calling, Sister Golding continued to follow my progress. Not only would she greet me at church, but she would also call and praise me when I gave a talk or performed a musical number. When she heard of an accomplishment at school, she was quick to write me a little note. Even after our ward got divided and we did not attend meetings together, she came when I spoke in sacrament meeting as I left on my mission and when I returned. I continue to receive validating words and hugs whenever I see this remarkable woman, who recently turned one hundred. She reached out with love and acceptance when I was eleven, and I still feel her support today. She made a difference at a lonely and discouraging time in my life, and I will forever count myself blessed that I got “stuck” with her.

My relationship with Julia Golding helps me understand my covenant relationship with God. Was it a reciprocal relationship? Yes, but not in a win-win business arrangement sort of way. Julia certainly did not give so much to me because of what I offered in return. She got a piano recital that must have been painful for her to listen to and ideas for remodeling her home that were pretty outrageous (I think I suggested an indoor pool with her bed on an island in the middle of it). She also got help selling apples on the roadside, but none of that was a fair trade. Everything she asked of me was really just another way of helping me.

Similarly, God does not give grace for what He can gain from us. As we live His commandments and strive to follow the example of Jesus, we are not giving Him a gift of equal or greater value. His expectations within our covenant relationship are primarily for our sakes. I can bring God joy and glory as I accept His nurturing hand in my life, just as I’m sure some of my antics made Julia Golding smile. I hope she is proud to tell people she was my teacher. Nevertheless, for both God and Julia, their joy and glory are consequences of the grace they offer—not their motivation.

Vine and Branch

Jesus told His followers, “I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing” (John 15:5). When we think of reciprocal grace, we must consider the relationship between a vine and a branch. The vine provides nourishment. The expectation is growth and fruit—both of which would be impossible for the branch to produce without its vital connection to the vine.

Shortly after my first mission was over when I was a young man, a friend asked me to write a song that could be performed in the sacrament meeting where he was to speak before leaving on his own mission. I had just returned from serving in Chile Viña del Mar, which translates to “Vineyard of the Sea,” so Christ’s teachings of vines, branches, and fruit were in the forefront of my mind when I wrote the following lyrics that Steven Kapp Perry put to music. I called the song “The True Vine”:

I am the branch. Thou art the vine.

I know I’ll have strength as my hand is in Thine.

Please nourish and help me to grow as I should

And in turn I will promise Thee fruit that is good.

Brent Fillmore teaches at the Institute of Religion adjacent to Utah State University. When he speaks to his classes of a covenant relationship, he talks about a stalactite hanging from the top of a cave dripping water on the floor below. In the water are minerals that soon start building up until they create a stalagmite reaching up toward the stalactite above. In time the two join and create a column or pillar. If we were to personify the relationship, the stalactite, like the vine, gives, and the stalagmite, like the branch, receives. The receiver reaches up as the giver reaches down.

The stalagmite is not self-sufficient. Without the stalactite, no growth is possible. Brother Fillmore says, “The very droplets from above contain within them the elements and minerals of the stalactite through which they have passed. Those minerals land on the stalagmite—drop by drop, line upon line—and help it grow like what is above it until they become one.” He asks his students to stop running around and just be still like a stalagmite. “Just let yourselves get dripped on from above!” he tells them.

The nurturing relationship between a vine and branch or a stalactite and stalagmite helps me understand my covenant relationship with God. My job is not to do my part in order to receive grace, for there is nothing I can do in and of myself. In our relationship with the Lord, He declares, “My grace, all sufficient, shall be thy supply” (Hymns, no. 85). Paul taught that we must “work out [our] own salvation with fear and trembling,” and then He added, “For it is God which worketh in you” (Philippians 2:12–13). In this reciprocal relationship, His expectation is that I accept the grace He offers—that I welcome it, grow, and pass it on.

Companions Yoked Together

Christ told His followers, “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28–30).

A yoke is a wooden crosspiece that is fastened over the necks of two animals and attached to a plow or cart they are to pull. Pioneers often yoked oxen together to pull their wagons. As we think of the Greek word charis and the reciprocal relationship it assumes, let us not think of one ox pulling and then the other in turn. Let us think of two oxen pulling together. One may be much weaker than the other, but the yoke allows for a joining of forces, maximizing the strength of the two animals as they pull in unison.

Elder David A. Bednar taught, “Making and keeping sacred covenants yokes us to and with the Lord Jesus Christ.”5 Together with Him, the burden becomes light because His strength is perfect (see 2 Corinthians 12:9). When He asks us to serve Him with “heart, might, mind and strength” (D&C 4:2), He is offering His heart, might, mind, and strength simultaneously.

In addition to representing shared strength, in ancient Israel the image of the yoke also communicated discipleship. “Learn of me,” the Savior said, “for I am meek” (Matthew 11:29). Meekness is the principle I was attempting to teach once at a youth conference after the young people had participated in doing baptisms for the dead in the temple. I pointed out that the baptismal font rests on the backs of twelve oxen—symbolic of the twelve tribes of Israel. One young woman raised her hand and asked, “Brother Wilcox, what is an ox?”

I glanced at some of the leaders in the group, wondering whether this was the time and place to go into all that, but with their smiles of approval I launched into the explanation: “It’s a bull that has been mellowed out,” I stated. She (and most of the other youth) looked at me with blank faces. I tried again, “It is a bull that has been castrated” (Gulp! Did I just say that in a chapel?). In America we usually call a young, castrated bull a steer, but internationally it is called a bullock or an ox. “The ox is a perfect work animal,” I explained, “because he has the strength of a bull, but he is no longer wild or dangerous.” Meekness is not surrendering strength but surrendering stubborn willfulness.

The relationship between two animals yoked together helps me understand my covenant relationship with God as we work side by side. Not only because the yoke allows His strength to become mine, but because it symbolizes how He, in His meekness, is willing to teach me meekness as I serve at His side. My obligation in this reciprocal relationship is not to pull my share of the weight but rather to be meek and teachable as I receive His grace.

The Good Samaritan and the Injured Traveler

BYU professor John W. Welch has taught that the story of the good Samaritan can be seen as an allegory of the fall and redemption of mankind: a certain man (Adam) fell among thieves and was left for dead. Finally, a Samaritan—He who was hated of men (Christ)—saved him6 (see Luke 10:25–35). Then the Samaritan took the victim to an inn and paid for his care. The Samaritan had only one expectation of the injured ­traveler—that he would get well. Did the injured man thank him? Perhaps, but what if he had been unconscious? I can’t imagine the Samaritan saying, “Why help him? He won’t even know it was me.”

After I shared this parable one year at BYU Campus Education Week, a young man said, “But the Samaritan had compassion on the injured man because he didn’t get himself into the mess. He got robbed and beaten up. It wasn’t his fault. I don’t think Christ can have the same compassion on me when my messes are of my own making.”

Would the good Samaritan have refused to help the man if he had slipped and fallen on his own? What if he had jumped off a cliff? I can’t imagine the Samaritan saying, “Serves you right, then!” Would the Samaritan have withheld his assistance if the man had been overcome by heat instead of by thieves? I can’t picture him saying, “It’s your own fault for not wearing a hat and staying hydrated!” Doctors and nurses in hospitals have taken an oath to care for their patients even when they are prisoners, drunk drivers, or gang members.

Needs are needs no matter their origins (see Mosiah 4:17–18). If the Atonement were only for those who don’t know better, then ignorance would be enviable rather than pitiable. Knowing the gospel would be a disadvantage rather than an advantage, and such is never the case. The uninformed will learn the gospel in the spirit world, and the innocent who die before the age of eight will one day have to grow until they are as knowledgeable and accountable as we are. Christ came to help all of us wherever we are in the process and for whatever reasons we need His help.

If knowing better condemns us when it comes to being “diligent in keeping his commandments,” then let us also acknowledge that it saves us when it comes “to a knowledge of the goodness of God, and his matchless power, and his wisdom, and his patience, and his long-suffering towards the children of men; and also, the atonement which has been prepared from the foundation of the world” (Mosiah 4:6). Knowledge is always desirable (see D&C 130:19).

The relationship between the good Samaritan and the injured traveler helps me understand my covenant relationship with God. It is reciprocal, but that does not mean we are both on equal ground in our ability to contribute. The Samaritan gave grace because he could. The injured man received because he was in need. He simply could not save himself. Such an arrangement does not always describe good business, but it does describe goodness.

Bridegroom and Bride

Christ sometimes referred to His relationship with us as a marriage (see John 3:29). Married couples become one in purpose just as Christ desires to become one with us. As we partake of the sacrament, we covenant to take the Lord’s name upon us as a bride takes the name of a bridegroom.

One young bride-to-be was concerned about taking her husband’s last name as their wedding got closer. She felt that she was giving up part of herself and complained that it wasn’t fair. Why didn’t her fiancé take her last name instead? She found many opinions posted on the Internet that claimed the traditional practice is outdated and even demeaning to women. The girl asked friends and family members what they thought, and someone said, “It’s a sign you love your husband.”

She asked, “Well, why doesn’t he take my name as a sign he loves me?”

Someone else added, “It shows you belong to him.”

She exploded, “What? Like I’m his slave or something?” The closer she came to her marriage, the more she resisted the idea of changing her name.

Finally, she and her fiancé spoke with their bishop about the dilemma. He listened and then explained, “Many traditions we associate with marriage mean little in today’s culture because they have lost their original religious significance. For example, what color is your wedding dress?”

“White, of course,” the young woman answered.

“Why?” the bishop asked. The girl and her fiancé had never even thought about it. The bishop said, “Brides wear white to symbolize purity—just like we wear white when we are baptized and go to the temple. It’s too bad so few people in today’s world think—or live—that way. They just wear white because of tradition.”

The bishop continued, “It’s the same with a wife taking her husband’s name. The act actually symbolizes the covenant relationship Christ has with us as members of His Church. The bridgegroom represents Christ, and the bride represents the Church. In Ephesians 5:25 we read, ‘Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it.’” The bishop said, “The taking and giving of Christ’s name is reminiscent of the covenants made in baptism and in the ­temple through which Christ can ‘sanctify and cleanse [us] . . . that [we] should be holy and without blemish.’ It symbolizes how He ‘nourisheth and cherisheth’ us (Ephesians 5:26–27, 29). When Paul taught, ‘For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and shall be joined unto his wife, and they two shall be one flesh,’ he wasn’t just speaking about marriage. Paul himself said, ‘I speak concerning Christ and the church’” (Ephesians 5:31–32).

That was the perspective this young couple had been missing. With this new understanding in their hearts, the young woman gladly took her husband’s name, not because the couple was jumping through some meaningless, traditional hoop, but because the act symbolized the covenant relationship they both had with Christ.

The relationship between a bridegroom and his bride helps me understand my covenant relationship with God. Marriage is not a contract between Party A and Party B. It is an institution in which the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. As we willingly take Christ’s name, He willingly gives it, together with His grace. Our obligation is to stay faithful and to never leave Him, just as He promises to never leave us. Our motivation is the deep love we feel for each other. Together with Him, we can become more than we can be on our own.

President Ezra Taft Benson declared, “Men and women who turn their lives over to God will discover that He can make a lot more out of their lives than they can. He will deepen their joys, expand their vision, quicken their minds, strengthen their muscles, lift their spirits, multiply their blessings, increase their opportunities, comfort their souls, raise up friends, and pour out peace.”7

Whether we think of Christ as a nurturing adult, vine, companion, good Samaritan, or bridegroom, we are always dependent on Him and better because of Him. Of course, I have been selective in the examples I have chosen to share in this chapter. There are many other metaphors and parables in the scriptures that actually move in opposite directions. At times Jesus also cast Himself as a steward (see Luke 12:42), employer (see Matthew 20:1), judge (see Luke 12:58), and landlord (see Mark 12:9). I’ve presented business partners as negative and contractual agreements as straitjackets. Obviously, many business contacts and contracts are friendly and mutually beneficial. I have presented family and teacher-student relationships as positive, although some are full of antagonism, manipulation, and spite. All relationships can be complex, and relational grace is no exception. The main point is that grace is a two-way interaction. The question isn’t whether or not God’s grace requires something of us, but why, and to what end? The reciprocal nature of grace means we are obligated, but not to fulfill our end of a bargain as much as to build and strengthen a relationship.

One Christian friend told me, “If grace takes work, it is not grace.” I guess if I saw grace as a one-sided gift—a plate of cookies dropped anonymously on my doorstep—I might feel the same. However, Brent J. Schmidt’s research of the Greek word for grace (charis) and the Hebrew word for grace (hesed) showed that they only existed within covenant relationships. For many Christians, God has become so immaterial that they struggle to understand what it means to have a relationship with such a distant and remote being. It has become easy for them to separate the gift from the giver to such a point that they take them both for granted. Latter-day Saints know the nature of God at such an intimate and personal level that we feel a bond with Him that quickly overshadows any sense of deservedness or entitlement. Covenants are seen as “an exchange of love between us and our Heavenly Father.”8

All relationships require something of those involved, but when those relationships are healthy, the obligations are met in the context of love. It is love that allows us to see beyond the requirements to the joy, purpose, and meaning provided by the relationship. It is the same with God. Those who choose to maintain a covenant relationship with Him by coming into His fold, remembering Him always, and striving to keep His commandments choose to be changed through His grace. The requirement to lose themselves in His service is superseded by the opportunity to find themselves in His love (see Matthew 10:39).

Notes

1. Bruce C. Hafen and Marie K. Hafen, The Contrite Spirit: How the Temple Helps Us Apply Christ’s Atonement (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 2015), 26.

2. Brent J. Schmidt, Relational Grace: The Reciprocal and Binding Covenant of Charis (Provo, Utah: BYU Studies, 2015), 19.

3. Henry B. Eyring, Because He First Loved Us: A Collection of Discourses (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 2002), 42.

4. Truman G. Madsen, The Temple: Where Heaven Meets Earth (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 2008), 69.

5. David A. Bednar, “Bear Up Their Burdens with Ease,” Ensign, May 2014, 88.

6. See John W. Welch, “The Good Samaritan: Forgotten Symbols,” Ensign, February 2007, 41–47.

7. Ezra Taft Benson, Ezra Taft Benson Remembers the Joys of Christmas (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1988), 11.

8. Bonnie L. Oscarson, “An Exchange of Love between God and Us,” in Between God and Us: How Covenants Connect Us to Heaven (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 2016), 22.