Jet Mariano

Tag: grace

  • “Nobody gets too much heaven no more…”

    Autumn fire on the mountain after rain; an open doorway, wet boards, and a single chair facing the clearing light.

    Open door, lone chair, autumn mountain—proof that heaven isn’t scarce; it’s waiting to be noticed.

    Opening
    Some days heaven feels scarce—like peace is on allocation. We queue in long lines of noise and hurry, wondering if there will be any light left for us.

    The scene
    An empty chair by an open door says welcome without a word. The storm has rinsed the world clean; the mountain answers with color. See the chair—waiting in line. “Nobody gets too much heaven no more.” The Bee Gees were in my headphones when I made this image. It can feel harder to find, like we’re all waiting our turn.

    Reflection
    Their song dreams big: life that sees beyond forever, love that never dies, a warmth that turns the whole world into a summer day—and the fear that such love is only a dream that fades. I know that ache. Yet the doorway answers with abundance. Grace is already spilling through the threshold; the queue forms only in my mind. The chair is enough. The view is enough. God is not withholding; I’m just learning to notice.

    Scripture echo
    “Be still, and know that I am God.” —Psalm 46:10

    Practice
    Open one door in your day—fewer tabs, slower breath, a real chair by a real window. Sit long enough for the clouds to move.

    Final reflection
    The chorus says love is mountain-high and hard to climb. Looking out, I see the mountain—and I remember: in Christ, the climb is companionship more than conquest. Scarcity is loud; heaven is quiet. When I stop hustling for a place in line, I find I’ve been standing at an open door the whole time.

    Pocket I’m keeping
    A chair by an open door is enough. Summer arrives in the heart that makes room.

    What I hear now
    A gentle nudge: You don’t earn heaven; you notice it. Love doesn’t fade when you sit in the light.

    Credit
    Inspired by “Too Much Heaven” (Bee Gees). Brief lyric quoted; the rest paraphrased with love.

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  • Marked in Time – Sep 12, 2025 – “Meek and Lowly” (Elder Neal A. Maxwell)

    Manila woke to a sky of soft fire, and the spires answered. The world often mistakes meekness for weakness, but heaven doesn’t. Meekness is how we hear the ‘still, small voice’ in a loud century, how we keep working without being seen, how we forgive when no one claps. In that quiet courage, the Lord gives what He promised—rest for the soul and light for the road.

    Excerpt

    Meekness isn’t weakness—it’s the enabling power to wear Christ’s yoke, learn of Him, and endure well. It quiets pride, softens intellect, and turns stumbling blocks into stepping stones.

    Intro

    Today I revisited Elder Neal A. Maxwell’s 1986 devotional, “Meek and Lowly.” The world treats meekness as quaint; heaven calls it essential: “For none is acceptable before God, save the meek and lowly in heart” (Moroni 7:44). Jesus invites, “Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly” (Matthew 11:29). Meekness is the key that makes discipleship possible—steady work, quiet strength, and “thanksgiving daily” even in stern seasons.

    Straight line

    Wear His yoke, learn of Him. Meekness is how disciples are taught by the Yoke-Master—an education for mortality and eternity.

    Do good—and don’t weary. Maxwell stacks the stretch: do good and don’t faint; endure and endure well; forgive and forgive “seventy times seven.”

    Drop the heavy baggage. Meekness sheds fatiguing insincerity, hunger for praise, and the “strength-sapping quest for recognition.”

    Meekness deepens discipleship. God gives challenges to keep us humble (Ether 12:27). Meekness steadies us when misrepresented or misunderstood.

    One missing virtue matters. Like the rich young ruler, other strengths can’t compensate for missing meekness—it alters decisions and destiny.

    A friend of true education. “Humbleness of mind” opens us to things we “never had supposed” (Moses 1:10); without it we’re “ever learning” yet missing truth (2 Tim. 3:7).

    Pride is in all our sins. Meekness breaks those polished chains—resentment, offense-hunting, murmuring, and small, myopic views of reality.

    Ears to hear. The meek listen long enough to recognize the Shepherd’s voice and turn “rocks of offense” into stepping stones.

    Grace flows to the meek. “His grace is sufficient” (Ether 12:26). Without meekness there is no sustained faith, hope, or charity (Moroni 7:43–44).

    Line upon line. Meekness partners with patience—time to absorb, repent, and be made strong in weak places (Ether 12:27; 2 Nephi 28:30).

    Final reflection

    Meekness is not passivity; it’s power under covenant. It lets Christ carry the kingdom while we do our duty, turns offense into learning, and keeps us rejoicing when no one’s clapping. If I would know the Lord better, I must wear His yoke longer.

    Pocket I’m keeping

    • Wear His yoke → learn of Him
    • Do good and don’t weary
    • Shed praise-hunger; drop old grievances
    • Listen longer; recognize His voice
    • Ask “rightly,” wait “line upon line”
    • Let grace make weak things strong

    What I hear now

    “Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me… and ye shall find rest unto your souls.” (Matthew 11:29)

    Link to the talk

    BYU Devotional — “Meek and Lowly” (Neal A. Maxwell, Oct 21, 1986)

    © 2012–2025 Jet Mariano. All rights reserved.
    For usage terms, please see the Legal Disclaimer.

  • Somewhere in Life

    Sunrise behind the Taylorsville Temple — a reminder that even after storms, there’s light, a place prepared for us, and battles that can be won.

    There are moments when life’s rhythm seems to shift, as if unseen hands are arranging the day in ways we can’t quite explain. Today feels like one of those moments. My morning began with simple exchanges, yet carried an undertone of purpose. Last night’s dream—more like a second visit from the other side—lingers in my mind, as if to say, you’re not walking alone.

    It brought to mind the song Somewhere in Life from the 1979 Gates of Zion Seminary album, recorded during the time President Spencer W. Kimball was the prophet. I know these songs well because I served as a CES Institute Director from 1987 to 1990, a season in my life where music like this carried deep spiritual lessons to youth—and, unexpectedly, to me as well. Its words about “storms of evil that cloud your view” and “a hand to hold” speak directly to my journey.

    Somewhere in life there’ll be darkness too
    Storms of evil moments that cloud your view
    And yet in life you’ll find that Morning Sun
    You’ll find a battle won

    Somewhere in life there’s a place for you
    Far away from forces you can’t subdue
    Somewhere in life there be someone to know
    There’ll be a hand to hold

    The assurance that “there’s a place for you” feels especially real today, and with it, the quiet courage to keep moving forward until, as the song says, “you’ll find a battle won.”

    This ties closely to my August 12 “Storm of Life” reflection. Back then, I wrote about facing trials head-on and finding calm in the eye of the storm. Today, I feel that same calm as I prepare to enter the Taylorsville Temple—not just to perform a proxy endowment, but to lay the names of loved ones on the altar, trusting in the Lord’s timing.

    Final Reflection
    Life’s battles are rarely fought on visible fields. Most are waged in the quiet spaces of our hearts, where faith pushes back against fear. My dream reminded me that heaven is closer than we think, and the song from Gates of Zion reminds me that somewhere in life—right here, right now—there’s still a hand to hold, a place prepared, and a victory ahead.

    © 2012–2025 Jet Mariano. All rights reserved.
    For usage terms, please see the Legal Disclaimer.

  • There’s No One Now but You

    When all else faded, only You remained

    (Inspired by the journey of loss, growth, and grace)

    I felt so strong, so sure, so free,
    Believed the path belonged to me.
    No need for hands to guide or stay—
    I didn’t know I’d break this way.

    I chased the stars, ignored the signs,
    Built my dreams on shallow lines.
    But life, with quiet storms in view,
    Took all I had—and tested too.

    It seized the hope I once embraced,
    And left me wandering, soul displaced.
    I thought the shape of life was mine,
    Each step designed by grand design.

    I didn’t need You—so I claimed,
    Dismissed the whispers of Your name.
    But all along, in silence deep,
    You held the vows I failed to keep.

    And now the curtain’s torn in two,
    I see the world in clearer hue.
    No crowd remains to lean into—
    There’s no one now…
    but You.

    © 2012–2025 Jet Mariano. All rights reserved.
    For usage terms, please see the Legal Disclaimer.

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