FAIR's Rising Generation

Brrrrr-iiiiingg!! The bell rang, class was officially over and I was racing the other kids out the door. Soon I was at my locker and tossing my English book in with its buddies, Biology and World History. With a slam of the door I was on the move again. I swam up a stream of kids; they were moving toward their next classes, but my only thought was to get out. The halls of my high school were crowded and stuffy, and my body ached for a breath of fresh air. I burst out the school doors with a great big sigh of relief and trekked to the building on the other side of the street where Seminary was held.

As soon as I was through the doors I heard the hearty laugh of my teacher as someone was playing the theme song from Zelda on the piano. I walked into the classroom, set my stuff next to my seat and went to chat with my friends until the class started. It was always clear when class started, because Brother Manwaring would call with his well-projected voice to the stragglers that were still making their way toward the building, “it’s time to start; hurry up!”

I loved seminary. It was like my escape from the world and all its troubles. I really felt like I belonged there because my classmates knew what it was like at school, and they knew how tough it was sometimes to maintain high standards when surrounded by kids who seemed without any at all. They knew me and what made me uncomfortable, and they knew how to make me laugh. Not only were my classmates great, but my teacher was awesome! He always came to class prepared, and he would come up with these crazy ways to teach us a lesson about the Gospel. I learned a lot from him.

One time when my teacher was having trouble keeping the kids focused on the lesson, he–out of the blue–put on the movie Star Wars right at the part where one of the other pilots was telling Luke to “stay on target” before he blew up the Death Star. The class was so stunned by the randomness of it all that they listened carefully to his next words, which were about staying focused on the lesson. From then on, whenever the class got too excited or rowdy, he’d stick out his arms like he was flying a plane and we’d know immediately that he needed us to “stay on target.” It was those little things that made me cherish Seminary so much.

I didn’t always, but eventually I came to love seminary; it’s because I loved it that I was so open to the promptings of the Spirit, aka the Holy Ghost. Oftentimes, as I listened to the words of my teacher, I could feel the Holy Spirit testify the truth of them to my heart. It would come to me as this overwhelming feeling of contentment; that was the Holy Ghost’s way of telling me I was hearing truth. The Holy Ghost loves the truth, and he shares the joy he feels when he hears it to those also seeking the truth. So many times, both him and I listened and rejoiced silently together. It’s an amazing feeling, and, even more importantly, it’s a righteous feeling. Seminary can do that for ya if you let it.

I’m seventeen now, and I’ve graduated with all four years of seminary. I’ve had both early morning and release-time seminary, so I know how much of a sacrifice it takes for students to attend each method. I also know that, no matter what, seminary was an awesome blessing to my life and most definitely worth the cost. Sometimes the cost for Seminary attendance can seem very great, but I believe that the Lord blesses us for our sacrifices. I’ll write more about this topic early next week so please look for my post.

Thanks for reading.

2 Responses to “Seminary: a Sweet Escape”