Bringin’ Down the (Lord’s) House

I wipe the sweat from my brow on the sleeve of the white jumpsuit. The red smear left behind on the sleeve is unexpected. Leaving the hammer drill on the partially-tiled floor, I stand up to look in the large mirror on a nearby wall. Sure enough, there’s a tiny nick on my forehead. I step around another brother dressed in white to reach the box of tissues concealed beneath a cover of white yarn on a matrix of plastic. Satisfied that the bleeding has stopped, I adjust my earplugs, grab the Hilti, and continue tearing up the tiles of the baptistry.

The evening hasn’t gone quite as I anticipated.

The Sunday prior, the High Priest Group Leader announced that my in-laws’ ward was assigned to clean the Bountiful Temple from 9:30 to 11:30 on Thursday night. I thought it sounded like fun, so my hand quickly raised with Dad’s to indicate our availability.

Wednesday he and I attended an endowment session. Sitting in the room representing the presence of God, I was struck by the simple circle motif decorating the tall, beautiful room. Light from the setting sun streamed in through two of the high, round windows, connecting in my mind the light of Christ and Husserl’s predicted human mental ability to perceive such Platonic truths as perfect circles.

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