Picture yourself in a semi-rural suburban community some 35 to 40 years ago. It's an area with no wide-open farm land capable of feeding the masses, but rather an area spotted with small family farms.

Typical to the area was a particular five-acre pasture — the home of several sheep, guarded by a feisty — and seemingly fearless — ram.

As 12-year-olds are sometimes wont to do, it was not uncommon for those who knew about the ram to dare those who didn't know to walk across the pasture. The ram, ever protective of the sheep, would knock down any intruder. When the intruder got up — the ram would knock him down again.

Knowing the ram's disposition, these youngsters should have known better than to send unsuspecting friends into the fray — a very questionable practice.

But they did.

But, maybe because the pasture provided a shortcut to Grandma's house, the deceptive youngsters — ever-searching for a shorter route to freshly baked cookies — continually searched for a way to get themselves safely through the pasture.

Eventually, they discovered something quite extraordinary.

Before entering the field, the boys would pick the wild grass from the nearby ditch bank, bunch it together and hold it high in their hands like an Olympic torch. Then they'd run — if possible, like an Olympic runner — one-by-one across the well-grazed pasture.

The ram, as expected, would charge and, given its superior physical skills, would quickly catch the young men. But the lads, given their superior intellectual skills, would simply throw the bunches of grass to the ground. The ram, given its inferior reasoning skills, would stop to munch the grass — and the lads would skip off to safety.

A multitude of lessons, of course, can be learned from these encounters. But, for our purposes, let's first consider our not-so-friendly ram.

The ram was originally intent on the noble cause of protecting the other sheep. But he was all-too-easily distracted by the lure of an easy meal. He, in short, yielded to his appetite at the expense of a nobler pursuit.

The lesson here naturally leads to questions we must pose to ourselves:

• What distracts us from achieving what we honestly and righteously seek?

• If, in fact, our goal is to live eternally with Heavenly Father in the celestial kingdom, then aren't our choices really very simple?

• Simply put, needn't we just keep the commandments?

But life, somehow, doesn't seem that simple. Obstacles are everywhere.

And, while there is no way to avoid many of life's obstacles, all too many of those obstacles are self-imposed — by the choices we make. Just like that ram, we too often trade what we deeply — and eternally — want for something we think we want now.

King Benjamin succinctly declared that as long as we yield to our natural instincts — at the expense of the yielding to the Holy Spirit — we will be an enemy to God. As an enemy to God, we are, it stands to reason, also an enemy to ourselves. We limit ourselves. We restrict our progression. We become our own worst enemy. (See Mosiah 3:19.)

Now, let's consider the boys.

The boys, intent on those freshly baked homemade cookies, would not be distracted by the ram's threats.

While, in this particular experience, the goal was certainly temporal, the example is insightful.

In their first attempts to cross the pasture, the boys were knocked down — and knocked down again. But, not only did they get up and try again, they figured out a way to outsmart the enemy.

According to King Benjamin outsmarting the enemy is simply a matter of putting ourselves in the Lord's hand — yielding, if you will, to His influence — and following His path back to His presence.