Freeing Pharaoh

This is a continuation of an exploration into the book of Revelation. Part 1 is here , while part 2 is here . When Revelation Sounds Like Rotor Blades When I was ten, my dad was asked to teach a Primary inservice on “Helping Children Understand Revelation.” He walked in with crayons, paper, and a goal to draw the locusts from Revelation chapter 9 . He read a verse. The kids shouted ideas. He drew exactly what we said—while (I now realize) gently steering us toward something he already had in mind. “Power like scorpions” → stingers in the tail. “Don’t hurt the grass, only people who don’t have God’s seal” → they can tell who’s who. “Faces like men” → pilots inside. “Hair like women” → long, whipping in the wind floating above the faces. “Teeth like lions” → shark mouths painted on the nose. “Breastplates of iron” → armored underside. “Sound of their wings like many horses and chariots” → whump-whump-whump-whump. “Tails like serpents with heads” → belt-fed machine guns that spit ...

This is a continuation of a prior blog post . Revelation Is Lehi’s Dream on Steroids For years I treated Lehi’s dream and the book of Revelation as two completely separate files in my brain. Lehi’s dream = Book of Mormon, baptism, enduring to the end. Revelation = scary New Testament stuff with trumpets, beasts, and war. Then I re-read 1 Nephi 11–14 , slowly, and something clicked so hard it turned my whole framework sideways. Nephi prays to understand his father’s dream. An angel shows him the tree, the rod, the river, the great and spacious building… and then just keeps going. The vision flows without a break into wars, apostasy, the Restoration, and finally “ the apostle of the Lamb, whose name was John ” writing the exact things Nephi is now seeing. This wasn’t a new topic. Revelation is the second half of the same answer. Lehi’s dream is the simple children’s version. Revelation is the same story shot through with dragons, trumpets, and cosmic warfare because the stakes aren’t jus...

The Jesus Fish in the Rear Window When I was sixteen, my dad came home from work laughing about a debate he’d just survived. A coworker, knowing Dad was Mormon, cornered him with his ultimate evangelical gotcha du jour: “Latter-day Saint temple garments are the mark of the beast. Revelation 13:16 says it’s worn on the body and it’s a sign of false worship ( 14:11 ,  16:2 ,  19:20 ).” Dad listened politely, then said, “That’s interesting. Because lately I’ve been seeing a mark which is prominently displayed, people refuse to do business without it ( 13:17 ), and plenty treat it like a badge of righteousness.” The coworker couldn't resist. “What is it?” Dad grabbed a napkin and drew: ⟨>< The Jesus fish . He went on: “You won’t do business with a plumber or a daycare unless that little fish is on their truck or their ad. People display it proudly. Some even worship the feeling of superiority it gives them.” The coworker went silent. Topic closed. Dad still doesn’t...

The Fight to Feel Seen Every conflict—whether a workplace clash or a family argument—stems from one core struggle: the fight to know we matter. Have you ever felt crushed when someone didn’t notice your hard work? We all crave to feel significant, at work, at home, anywhere. As a software engineer, I felt this sting deeply. After earning a promotion to Senior Engineer, a new manager called me an “overvalued middle engineer”—a oblique statement saying I was being paid above my value. I brushed it off, assuming he hadn’t seen my contributions. I kept building features and improving our team’s workflow, expecting recognition. A few years later, he repeated the same judgment. I was stunned. My work felt invisible, and I spiraled: Should I leave? Will anyone see my worth? That desperate need to be seen threw me into an existential crisis. Why We Fight for Proof Why do we tie our worth to others’ recognition? We all need to know we matter. But we only know it when we feel it. And those fe...

Today, I've been asked to speak on magnifying our callings. I would like to start by what it means to magnify something. Colloquially, when I think of magnifying I think of a magnifying glass or a telescope; something which enlarges what we see. Which can make it seem like magnifying our calling is about making ourselves look larger, or making our callings more important. Interpreting "magnify" as visually enlarging could also as mean we need to go over-the-top and devote large sums of time to our duties. It could also feel like magnifying a calling is about looking at the small details of our calling and correcting flaws and imperfections. But, historically "to magnify" means "to make great". The term magnify was applied to lenses because lenses make smaller things appear larger, or greater. So, to magnify something is to make it great, as in "important", "influential", "enlarged", "extended", or "seen...

When we read the genealogies in the Old Testament, we encounter jaw-dropping claims about human lifespans. Methuselah, for instance, is said to have lived 969 years (Genesis 5:27). Noah clocked in at 950 years (Genesis 9:29). Even Adam lived to 930 (Genesis 5:5). For modern readers, these numbers seem impossible—nobody today comes close to such ages. So, what’s going on? Were these people biologically superhuman, or could the answer lie in how ancient people understood the concept of a "year"? I have a theory: what if "year" didn’t always mean the 365-day solar cycle we know today? What if it referred to a different celestial rhythm, like the lunar cycle, and the meaning of "year" shifted over time? Let’s explore this idea, drawing on insights from neuroscience, cultural context, and a theological perspective on God’s creation. The Shifting Concept of "Year" In her groundbreaking book How Emotions Are Made , neuroscientist Lisa Feldman Barrett ar...