I See a Light! Part I

I gave a talk in Sacrament Meeting last week, and I had so much fun preparing for it that I thought I'd share some of my insights from it here on my blog. The idea behind it and the story about Sailor come from a talk by Elder L. Whitney Clayton in last October's General Conference. I'm splitting this up into two parts because it's really long (#Miriamlikestohearherselftype)

There is a story told of a mother and a father travelling with their daughter across the country in a private airplane. Looking forward to spending time together as a family, they played games, they shared jokes and stories and riddles, they tried to sleep as day turned into night. And unexpectedly they found themselves gripping their armrests in terror as the plane suddenly veered downward and they realized the pilot had lost control and they were in danger of losing their lives. As the plane smashed into the ground and the dust and debris cleared, the only survivor struggled out from the wreckage: the daughter, Sailor, age seven. Leaving behind the shattered remnants of the plane, along with the bodies of her parents, Sailor started walking. In 38 degree weather, wearing a ripped-up t-shirt and shorts, with one shoe lost and numerous scratches all over her body, this brave young girl walked through the dark night towards a light she saw in the far-off distance. She walked up and down hills, through briar patches, whatever it took to get to that light. When she got there, she discovered that the light belonged to a house, and the house belonged to a middle-aged man. This compassionate man took one look at her and sprinted towards his phone. He called an ambulance, he called whomever he could think of so that this little girl could get the medical attention she needed. Sailor’s refusal to stay where she was and wallow in despair enabled her to get the help necessary for her survival. When her whole life came crashing down around her, she walked toward the only light she could see, and thus saved her own life from going up in flames.

Spiritually speaking, our lives are like Sailor’s journey. There’s darkness, there’s coldness, there’s confusion and isolation, maybe we feel ill-prepared to cope with the specific challenges that are given us, maybe we have no idea where to go to get the help that we need – maybe we’re not even sure what it is that we need. Sometimes we feel too tired and worn-out to keep going. But we can’t just stay there besides the pain and hope to thrive. We have to get up and move. And where we head towards is just as important as the fact that we are moving in the first place. Sailor didn’t have to head towards the light; she could have set off in a myriad other directions. Would she have found the help she needed? Maybe, but it would have taken her much longer, and in the meantime she would have used up valuable energy that her body and emotions needed to help her heal.

Sailor had a middle-aged man to help her find healing. We have something even better: our Savior, the Son of God. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that the Savior and His Atonement (including the Resurrection) truly is the center of the restored gospel, but as we study the scriptures and the words of modern-day prophets it becomes more and more clear that this is what the prophets from Adam to Thomas S. Monsen have always based their personal testimonies on. Whatever we talk about in the church, the Savior is always at the center of everything we believe. Our light is the Savior. And while it is possible to find good in other places, I personally prefer to go straight to the source. The Savior isn’t just one way to find good; He is the source of all good (see Moroni 7:16, 22). I want the purity that comes from drinking from the source. I want joy and peace and understanding undiluted, and the more I head towards the light the more of it I find.

But, like everyone else out there, I have yet to master perfection at anything, including staying on that light-filled path. If the light is the source of everything worthwhile, then why do we so often stray?

Room to Make Mistakes

To be honest, the mission was hard.

To be honest, I’m overjoyed to be back.

To be honest, I don’t know if I could do something like that again.

To be honest, while I want to always serve my Savior with all my heart, sometimes I want to do it in my own way, at my own pace.

Sometimes my way is not the mission’s way. Not my district leader’s way. Not my companion’s way. It’s never against Heavenly Father’s way – but it also never forces me to be someone I’m not.

The thing with the mission field is that you’re constantly surrounded by people who expect you to act a certain way. Be a certain person. From random people you tract into who are not afraid of speaking their opinion of what you’re doing and how you’re doing it, to mission leaders who it sometimes seems are merely there to remind you how low your numbers are or the many aspects of being a missionary that you haven’t quite perfected yet, to companions whom you can never quite convince of the strengths that do exist deep down inside you – always always it seems that there is someone who is not quite satisfied with all your physically emotionally mentally demanding efforts.

And sometimes you worry that that someone is God Himself. Are you sure you’re doing your best? You notice all the problems in this area, this teaching situation, this companionship – why haven’t you fixed them yet? Why can’t you do things right? And always always you feel the pressure, the infinitely high expectations, emanating from your district leader your fellow district members the ward members – from everyone – everyone, including yourself.

I could give specific examples of missionaries that I love and respect putting what I thought was unfair pressure on me to be someone I’m not – but I won’t, because that would be me putting pressure on them to be perfect missionaries, perfect leaders, and I don’t expect that from them. At least, not anymore. You see, on the mission I realized: Everyone needs to know that they have room to make mistakes, permission to speak even when they’re not sure that what they have to say will come out perfectly, permission to act like someone different than the stereotype, permission to still be in the middle of the learning and growing process. There were transfers where I felt that if I sneezed wrong in front of an investigator, my companion would be on my case – and I’ve forgiven those companions since then because I understand that they too were experiencing intense growing pains. But during those transfers, I had no room to breathe, no room to cry, no room to be myself – because who I am is so far from perfection. When I’m myself, I make mistake after mistake and sometimes, with a lot of unconditional love from others and even more determination from myself, gradually I begin to make fewer and fewer mistakes, until mistakes are the exception rather than the norm. That’s where we all want to be. But none of us start out that way. And to be able to progress, we need to know that it’s okay to make mistakes along the way. When we’re constantly being reminded that what we’re doing is so far from perfection, discouragement sets in. We freeze up. What’s the point of going on if what I do is never good enough anyway?

While we do need to know what we’re doing wrong in order to make it better, we also need to know that we can mess up and still be loved. Mistakes are vital part of life. They’re an essential part of Heavenly Father’s plan for us. He gave us agency and the Light of Christ but no practical experience of how to use those two tools. And then he made us all unique, so that what works for one person may not work for another. Of course he doesn’t expect us to go through life without making a few mistakes along the way! Exploring, seeing what works and what doesn’t, learning from experience and knowing that it’s okay that you don’t have everything figured out right away, this is what makes life rewarding. This is what leads to growth. Each of us needs permission to be imperfect, and we need to give each other that same permission as well. Otherwise, self-esteem plummets and it’s hard to convince yourself to do something new. You’ll probably fail at it anyway, so what’s the point? When we have unrealistic expectations for others, then instead of helping them grow, we’re cutting them down, hindering their growth. We need to look at people the way the Savior does – look into their hearts, see their strengths, what makes them them, and work from there to encourage them to f

flourish in a way that’s true to them.  

And we need to treat ourselves the same way. Don’t have as many baptismal dates as the next companionship over? As good of grades as your classmate? As many dates as your roommate? As spotless a house as your next-door neighbor? How hard are you trying, how far are you progressing? Those things matter more to Heavenly Father than the outward results. The Savior’s life, from the outside, looked a failure: born in a stable, raised a simple carpenter, hated and mocked and eventually killed even though He claimed to be a God – He did not come to earth to impress the world with His power, but to teach us forgiveness and healing and love. To teach us that, just as He never does anything to impress us but merely to show us of His love, so to we need never do anything to impress Him, but merely to convince Him that He can be as sure of our love as we are sure of His. If Heavenly Father wanted us to make perfect choices all the time, He would have gone with Satan’s plan. But He believes in freedom, and with that freedom comes mercy and patience and room for experimentation and growth. And I am grateful for a church and a gospel that emphasizes sincerity and love and growth over anything else this world has to offer.