Monday, June 19, 2017

Peace Like a River

They say that peace is like a river, but rivers make me think of chaos: rushing and furious, loud and overwhelming, speeding uncontrollably downstream. I’ve heard rivers compared to peace, but to me, they’re anything but.

Life is like a river, though, in that sometimes the current of time feels overwhelming, and it’s all I can do to keep my head afloat. And sometimes, as worries and fears speed uncontrollably through my mind, I start to flail, terrified that I am drowning, convinced that I don’t have what it takes to stay afloat.

But then this image washes over me: Christ’s disciples on a ship as waves twice, three times their height come crashing over the sides, working desperately to keep the ship upright and themselves from being swept overboard, wondering how their beloved Master could possibly be asleep, completely oblivious to this tempest that threatens His life. Terrified, they wake Him, only to hear His surprised response: “Why are ye fearful, oh ye of little faith?” And when He turns to face the sea, He commands, and all is still.

As I face my own storms, with Christ’s disciples I also wonder: What manner of man is this? How can He remain so calm when the world around Him is anything but? And how can He expect me to do the same?

But the Savior is not as other men. He is the Son of God, and as I study His words I realize why the same fear that paralyzed His disciples’ hearts did not penetrate into His own:

Because He knew who He was and what He was capable of.

Because not only did He create the earth, He came to save it as well.

Because not only did He overcome His own death and hell, but He overcame everyone else’s as well.

Because even as I feel like I am fighting for my very life, the Savior has already ensured that I will rise again.  


Then how can I not feel peace?


Additional Resources:
John 16:33

Saturday, June 3, 2017

Career Woman

Most of us know what “The Family: A Proclamation to the World” teaches us about parents’ roles: “Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children,” while fathers are the ones who “are responsible to provide the necessities of life and protection for their families.

I believe what “The Family: A Proclamation to the World” teaches. I believe that it is the word of God, spoken through the mouths of His modern-day Prophet and Apostles. I want to follow what it says because I believe that doing so is what will bring me the greatest joy.

I have also recently started looking for a career.

Not a job, some temporary form of employment to tide me over until I can finally get married and start a family of my own. A career. A solid, reliable, long-term career. Something that will hone my skills and talents while providing for my physical needs. Something worthy of my intelligence and my potential to make a difference in the world.

But, you ask, isn’t that antithetical to what “The Family” teaches?

No. I don’t believe it is. In fact, I would say that the two are synonymous. Whether I continue on the career path even after getting married or give up my job to spend more time with my children, here is what getting established with a career now will add to my future marriage and family:

  • Security: The burden of providing financially for the family will not rest solely on one person. If there ever comes a time when my husband for whatever reason, be it medical or economic in nature, can no longer provide for the family via his own efforts, he can rest assured that there is someone else in the household qualified and willing to pick up that burden for him.
  • Example: My daughters will realize that they have the freedom and ability to choose what they do with their lives, and my sons will have a respect for women, including Mormon women, whose life’s journey takes them on a more unconventional route.
  • Love: My children and husband will recognize that I choose to put them first because I love them, not because some old guy told me it was important.
  • Unity: My future husband won’t feel that he has to sacrifice providing for his family over spending time with them, but will know that he has the freedom to work with me as he tries to find his own balance between the two.
  • Self-worth: I will recognize that my growth and development matter independent of what they will add to my children’s upbringing. This will help me lead my children from a place of confidence; rather than basing my worth off of how well my children perform in front of others, I will base my worth off of something more substantial: my personal ability to achieve my goals, independent of the decisions those I’m responsible for make.

So while the most important thing in my future will be my husband and children, in the meantime I will take advantage of this opportunity to establish a career. Not because I care more about worldly things than I do about following the prophet, but because I care about having strong relationships with my future family. And that will begin with having a strong relationship with myself – because, really, how can I nurture my future children if I have never learned how to nurture myself?

Thursday, January 26, 2017

The Eternal Truth of Families

"We . . . solemnly proclaim that marriage between a man and a woman is ordained of God and that the family is central to the Creator’s plan for the eternal destiny of His children."
-"The Family: A Proclamation to the World" 

In this one simple sentence, the First Presidency of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints makes clear God’s view on marriage and family. Life is sacred, and the most sacred part of life is the relationships we establish with one another. The most important of these relationships are created and developed in the home. The home creates the ideal environment for growth and joy: it provides constancy in a world that is ever-changing; love in a world that can seem indifferent; a moral anchor in a world of ever-shifting morality; a place to be yourself in a world that judges each individual based off of arbitrary and superficial standards.

For these reasons, God has designed a plan that centers around the family unit. Family is not a social construct; it is a heavenly one. Our Heavenly Parents have an eternal marriage, and they find their joy in helping their children grow and become more like them (see Moses 1:39). As children of our Heavenly Parents, we also will find our purpose and our joy in creating Christ-centered families.

Modern culture has stigmatized those who marry young, as well as those who voluntarily give up their career for their children. However, God’s truth has not changed along with the culture. Marriage is still ordained of God, and the family is still central to the Great Plan of Happiness. Eternal marriage and a Christ-centered family life will always be the key to eternal joy. This is an eternal truth, and as such will never change.

Sunday, August 7, 2016

Hope

“Wherefore, there must be faith; and if there must be faith there must also be hope; and if there must be hope there must also be charity” (Moroni 10:20).

In the Mormon world, we tend to hear a lot of talk about developing charity and faith. Everything from Sunday School lessons to whole chapters in the Book of Mormon get devoted to these two Christlike attributes. And whenever faith and charity get grouped together, another Christlike attribute always seems to pop up as well: that of hope. But whereas multiple scriptures define faith and charity and detail exactly how we can develop them (see, for example, Alma 32 or 1 Corinthians 13), scriptures that break down hope seem much harder to find. What is hope? Why do we need it? And what does it look like in everyday life?

Hope Defined
In modern lingo, we use the word hope to denote something that we wish for but cannot control: I hope the weather’s good today, I hope that cute boy asks me on a date, I hope this traffic doesn’t make me late to work. Our limited control over these outcomes means that we have no guarantee that these wishes of ours will come true.

When I try to apply this definition to scriptural passages about hope, however, it doesn’t quite seem to fit. Paul teaches that “we are saved by hope” (Romans 8:24), but salvation seems too essential to our eternal well-being to come from something as flimsy as wishful thinking. Moroni also speaks of hope, claiming it as “an anchor to the soul” (Ether 12:4). But me hoping I’ll get an A on my paper does nothing to anchor my soul; instead, it feels as if the nervous anticipation causes my heart to get swept away with my thoughts until both feel the complete opposite of anchored. How do I reconcile this disconnect between what I mean by the word hope, and the blessings promised by these ancient prophets?

Turns out, the word hope hasn’t always had the definition it has today. Like many words in the English language, its meaning has changed throughout the centuries. At the time the scriptures were translated, its definition was a feeling of trust.

So it’s not just wishful thinking, after all. It’s something more tangible than that: trust. So now we know what hope means – but where does this feeling of trust come from? And how can we cultivate it for ourselves?

So now we know what hope means – but where does this feeling of trust come from? And how can we cultivate it for ourselves?

The answer comes from Moroni: Hope is found “through the Atonement of Christ." Our hope grows as we continuously apply the Atonement of Jesus Christ in our own lives. As we follow the words of Christ as taught by the prophets, we experience firsthand the power of Christ’s Atonement to heal and strengthen us, spirit as well as body. This increases our hope – our trust – that the Savior will continue to strengthen and heal us. And with this trust comes the reassurance that even though we may not see a way to make those good things that we wish for happen in our lives, our Heavenly Father has a plan, along with the power to make that plan happen. God controls the outcomes, and with that knowledge we have the guarantee that all we hope for will come true.

Now when we look back at those two verses, they make a lot more sense. Our salvation comes through trusting that the Savior can and will save us. This trust, in turn, gives us motivation to stay anchored in following the Savior’s teachings no matter what is going on around us, because we trust that from our efforts will come worthwhile results. Hope gives us something to rely on when all around us feels unstable. It requires that we yoke the emotion of trust with the action of obeying, the emotion motivating the action and the action generating more of the emotion in a cyclical process. In this way cultivating hope is similar to cultivating charity and faith.

One last question that has often puzzled me: How can "good things to come" affect my current emotional state? How can something in my distant future make a difference in my present bleakness?
                                             
Hope Applied
Surprisingly, to have hope does not mean that we solely focus on - and therefore live in - the future. It means that because we trust God to fulfill all His promises to us at some point in the future, we can then let go of our anxieties for what's to come, as well as our regrets over what has happened in our past, and thus become more anchored in the present moment. 

My hope has developed slowly, over the course of several years, and even as I write this post I know that still I have much to learn. As I have grown ever closer to the Savior, I have gained several insights about this feeling of trust that comes from Him:

Hope means moving forward: Not letting my past define my present, but letting go of past pains and mistakes because I trust that the Atonement has the power to make me whole again. And when I combine this with my (ever-growing) faith in the Savior's love for me, I can then start to comprehend that my worth is defined by God’s love and sacrifice for me, not by anything I ever do or say. My actions affect my progression, but they can never change my worth. As I act on my hope I begin to understand this principle within both my heart and mind, thus enabling me to work towards my potential in spite of the chance of failure. God loves me even when I don’t succeed – and that gives me the hope to keep going after experiencing discouragement as I let the Savior – and those around me – help pick me up and get moving towards my dreams and goals again.

Hope means looking back purposefully: Seeing how God’s hand has guided me in the past, then using the resulting feeling of faith and love to trust that He will continue to guide my life in the future, and that, furthermore, whatever my life is like right now, the Lord has a plan and is guiding me patiently and intentionally through it. This helps me keep going when there seems to be no point, knowing that someday I will understand the hows and whys of everything I am going through right now, and that it will all seem worth it.

Hope also means being immersed in the present: Trusting in the Lord enough to let go of my wishes and fears of the unknown, trusting that He has a plan – and enough power to make that plan happen, no matter what mistakes I may not know enough to avoid. This letting go frees me from worries and gives me space to enjoy the small pieces of wonder that exist inside the shards of even otherwise broken days. Hope leaves my mind free to fully embrace each new moment as it comes.

Hope Cultivated

Most of all, hope is a journey. It’s something we learn and practice one little bit at a time. My own journey to hope has taken years, and I’m definitely not at the finish line yet. All those things I described above? A year from now, I’m sure I’d be able to expound hope with even greater depth. But here’s the thing about hope: I trust the Savior enough to know that even though I don’t know everything right now, what I do know is enough for Him to make today magnificent. And as I keep on striving to learn more so I can draw ever closer to God, my Savior will be there to hold my hand every step of the way.

My hope has come from doing the little things daily, doing them sincerely, doing them with the expectation of results. My hope for the future has come from recognizing how God has turned the me of the past into the much calmer, more confident, more loving, peaceful, grounded me of the now – and having the faith that He will continue to fulfill all the promises He has made to me, both through the words of prophets (ancient and modern alike), and more individual promises made specifically to me, through the words of my Patriarchal Blessing and personal revelation. Hope is faith in God’s charity for all mankind, but also, individually, for me. Hope is faith in God's love.




Friday, May 13, 2016

The Power to Change Lives


A lot of modern-day prophets have made intense promises about the blessings of studying from the Book of Mormon every day. President Benson talked about “a power in the book that will begin to flow into your lives the moment you begin a serious study of the book.” Boyd K. Packer stated that the Book of Mormon “has the nourishing power to heal starving spirits of the world.” Joseph Smith himself claimed that “a man would get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts, than by any other book.” Many other prophets, apostles, and inspired men and women have made similar promises.

But sometimes those promises seem so far out there. Once you’ve finished the Book of Mormon the first time, why would you want to keep reading it every day for the rest of your life? Doesn’t that seem a little, well, boring?

While it may seem redundant, those promises are true. Here’s the thing: We expect God to produce miracles using some exciting, one-time event. He’s God; He has that kind of power. But that’s not how He works. That’s not how anything in the universe works, really. Even Redwoods grow from tiny seeds, and mountains reach their impressive heights only over millions of years of constant shifting of the earth. Mere mortals also have experience with the slow steadiness of change: Skyscrapers do not go up instantly, in a blaze of smoke. Neither would we trust doctors to perform surgery after just a few weeks of study. Artists spend years practicing their art before even attempting to start a masterpiece that will itself take days and weeks and months of continuous effort to perfect. It takes consistent effort to produce significant results. Why then should it be any different with learning the mysteries of God?

And the Book of Mormon contains more than mortal power. The stories and doctrines contained therein were written not merely in the language of the Nephite prophets, but in the language of the Spirit. This Spirit that infuses the Book of Mormon is the same Spirit that God uses to communicate with us personally. As we read its pages, God speaks to us, answering our questions in the way that we best will understand, comforting us in the way that He knows we best respond to, giving us specific guidance for our specific needs for every specific day in our specific lives.

And this means that, although the words contained inside the Book of Mormon may never change, their meaning in our lives does. Why? Because our lives are constantly changing. And through the Book of Mormon’s simple words and stories, the Spirit can communicate the individual application of God’s truth.

And there is so much depth to the doctrine in the Book of Mormon that it is impossible to glean it all in even a lifetime of readings. Not because the doctrine is dense, but because that’s how God’s truth works: It contains both simplicity and depth. A child can understand the basics – and yet the more we go through new experiences, the more principles taught in the Book of Mormon that we’ve never noticed before start to make sense – and even principles we thought we fully understood take on more substantial meaning in our lives. And just as we understand the love our parents have for us in deeper and deeper shades as we gain more experience of what it means to sacrifice for someone else, so too does our understanding of the Savior’s love for us grow in ever deepening shades as we experience more of the heartbreak and joy that life has to offer, and realize the immensity of His all-encompassing sacrifice for us.

Through the stories in the Book of Mormon, God reassures us of the reality of His existence and of His love for us, as evidenced by the Plan He set in motion before He even started creating the world, centered in the willing agony and death of His Son. And He’ll reassure us of the specific parts of that Plan we need to understand in order to draw steadily closer to Him day by day, week by week, month by month, year by year. Little by little, our lives will become more full of His love and peace, and less full of the artificiality and complications of the world around us.

God uses the small and simple means of the Book of Mormon to bring about His complex miracles – because really, what greater miracle can there be than the one that happens inside of us? And rather than making Him look weak, it is evidence of God’s power that He can take something so simple and, from it, create something so magnificent.


*For further study of this topic, check out Julie B Beck's talk from April 2004






Thursday, April 28, 2016

Someone Else

One of the gospel’s basic tenets is that life is not a competition. We all have the same potential, and therefore we are supposed to help each other reach that potential, supposed to rejoice when someone else reaches life goals that we have not yet reached, supposed to not get annoyed when other people else achieve things that we want, supposed to not hate anyone for living the life we feel that we deserve.

I don’t know about you guys, but sometimes I do get annoyed. Sometimes I do hate people for being better than me. And I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one. Even though we know we’re not supposed to covet our neighbor’s anything, sometimes it’s still so hard to not get bitter. And I think it stems back, at least in part, to this idea that someone else’s joys and successes are somehow a reflection of our own self-worth.

For example: Someone else gets a prestigious internship, someone else gets asked on four dates a week, someone else takes 18 difficult credits and still manages to pass them all, someone else just off their mission gets engaged – and I get jealous, I get bitter, I get oh so insecure. I wonder: What’s wrong with me that I’m not like that? Am I not as good as them? Not as attractive? Intelligent? Competent? Interesting? Fun? Do I not put as much effort into being my best self? Why should fate favor them and not me? Doesn’t God want me to have joy? Then what am I doing wrong?

Does any of this sound familiar?

I know I’m not the only one out there who thinks like this. Even though we know that these sorts of things are not what the gospel teaches, even though we know exactly what cliché gospel truths this line of thinking goes against, that does not make it easy to just stop these emotions from happening. There is a difference between knowing and believing, and making that switch from intellectual to emotional can be scary. It means trusting in God’s view of us and letting go of a lifetime of accumulated assumptions about our tentative place in this world, and our instinct warns us that if we let go, we will fall.

Remember Peter, though, trying to be like Jesus and walk on water? He looked down at the waves – and started to sink. He fell. But the Savior heard his cry for help, and Peter did not drown.

Neither will the Savior let us drown. As we let go of our beliefs about our worth, He will reach out and raise our thoughts up to a place where we no longer feel as if we are drowning.  And He will replace our insecurities with the truth about His love. Because it’s not enough to know that a belief is incorrect; to get it to leave our hearts, we must replace it with the truth (see Isaiah 55:9).

So what is the truth about our worth?

Someone else’s joy has no reflection on my worth or my potential. If someone younger than me gets 
married, does that mean I’m doing something wrong in my life to not be progressing along in the Lord’s Plan of Salvation the way I want to be?

No. It means that God has a different plan for my life. Why? Because I’m a different person than those people I’m comparing myself to. Of course things are happening in my life at a different time than in other people’s lives – because God loves my individuality. He has prepared a plan for my life that caters to what I, Miriam Jones, need. Not what my friends, my family, my classmates, or anybody else in this world needs, but what I, Miriam Jones, with my unique set of strengths and challenges, need. More than anything, God wants me to grow closer to Him through becoming more like Him. And because He understands me (see Alma 7:11-13), He knows what I need and when I need it, and He is so good at providing it – because I am His daughter, and He loves me.  

And, lately, as I’ve worked to understand how God views me I have discovered a depth inside of me that, in certain recent attempts to fit in, I had started to neglect.

I’ve rediscovered my love for sincerity, for emotional writing, for long bike rides and wading in rivers, for upbeat music and dance parties, for deep discussions about the nature of humanity and life and politics and how it all ties into what the Savior teaches, for my family’s smart-alecky sense of humor and how it’s so much like mine.

I have discovered how alive I feel when I focus on using my talents, my strengths, my personality to brighten my life and that of those around me.

And I’ve discovered that as I do this, I feel so connected to everyone around me. Everyone is connected, but sometimes we focus so much on beating other people in this game called life that we forget to let our hearts feel this connection. But it’s as I focus on connecting with God and with others that I also feel connected to my own soul. I see my worth as others help me see it, as I discover it by doing those things that I love, as God helps what I know align more closely with what I believe, and as I help others see their own worth. Keeping connected with God, myself, and others – all three in an increasingly perfect balance – helps me feel connected to the depths that exist inside of me, help me feel alive and so sure of who I have the potential to become.


And as I feel the depth of my worth and my potential, I can start to see the same things inside of everyone else. I see unexpected strengths in people I had written off. I see unexpected trials in people I had labelled as always happy and easy-going. I see charity inside of people I’d never bothered to talk to. Suddenly it’s easier to interact with people and let the depths inside of them draw out the depths inside of me. Suddenly I feel so much love, both for myself and for all those I interact with. Suddenly, I start to understand how God feels about His precious sparrows.

Thursday, March 31, 2016

Ward Family

As an introvert, socializing in a large group setting is not my forte. In fact, places where there are large groups of people all gathered together can really stress me out. So, for example, church. Especially when it seems, as it so often does in Mormon singles’ wards’ culture, that the main expectation of church is socializing. To be honest, sometimes this drives me crazy.

But lately I’ve been realizing on a more personal level one of the blessings that comes from actually getting to know the people at church. Church leaders often refer to a “ward family,” and I’m starting to understand what that means with my heart.

This past semester has been one of draining struggles. Before my mission, I would have been so hesitant to ask for support from those around me. I would have kept my struggles to myself until I absolutely could not take it anymore. But something about spending 24/7 with someone and not being able to hide my hard days from them, whether I wanted to or not, taught me a much-needed lesson: it’s okay to let others into the hard parts of my life. Not only is it okay, it’s also helpful. And what’s more: there are always Christlike people around me who want to help.

And so, these past few months, I have once again seen that Christlike desire to help in those people who are around me. And I have found the majority of those people in my ward: neighbors, roommates, the bishop, home teachers, visiting teachers, friends. I have felt my Savior’s love through the willingness that these people in my ward have shown in spending time with me and serving me. I feel so much love from those around me, and it fills me with the strength to get through yet another day. It gives me hope that I can figure out solutions and that things will get better. The effort they put into serving me helps me understand my worth.

And it’s not just one person, but a whole multitude of them, and each one brings with them a different strength. Including those people whom I barely know who keep bringing me cookies. I don’t even know how they knew I was struggling, but somehow they did, and without even really knowing me they are showing me that they care.

It makes me think of a game from a ward activity a couple months ago: each person in a group of five or so had to hold onto a strand of duct tape connected to a pen and draw a picture. Now, picture this in your mind: If only one person holds onto a strand of the duct tape, they can hold the pen upright, no way could they actually draw something with it. Another person holding a strand on the other side would balance it out better. Add two more people to the other corners, and the pen’s now fairly stable. The more people there are supporting the pen, the easier it is for the pen to draw.

Lately I have been that pen. Some days I just feel like lying flat on the ground. So I read my scriptures and I pray, and I find myself standing upright, tied straight to heaven. But even with heaven pulling me upright sometimes it’s still hard to move myself enough to make a mark.

But then my ward family gets involved, and now I have even more people holding onto the strands of duct tape, reinforcing what scripture study and prayer are telling me, that I can do this and everything will work together for my good. All these people supporting me, reinforcing me, helping me not just to stand up straight but to move forward – and suddenly, when I didn’t feel that I could even stand up on my own, I find that somehow I have the strength to make a piece of art.




Wednesday, March 2, 2016

The Whole is More than the Sum of Its Parts

In case y’all haven’t noticed, life is full of challenges! I’ve mentioned in a previous post how we grow as Christians by helping each other deal with these challenges. Through the organization of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints not only can we help our friends, but we have many opportunities to help strangers, too. Whether they be our neighbors or someone living far away from us, whether they be LDS or not, whether their needs are physical or spiritual, the church provides many opportunities for us to give of ourselves. Of course we can (and should) find opportunities outside of the church organization to serve strangers. So then why does it matter so much that we can serve all these people through the organization of the church? Because it’s effective, it’s efficient, it works on both a global as well as a local level, and through the way the church is structured, we learn a whole lot about eternal leadership principles.

Globally
What can the church, as a group 15 million strong, do together that the individual members couldn’t do on their own? Oh man. A whole heck of a lot. Let’s start with:

Missionary work. Sure, I could go on my own to another country to preach the gospel to all the world. I’m sure it would be great fun. It’d be super exciting when I got there and realized no one else spoke the same language as me, and even if they did, I’d have no idea how to teach the gospel (people go to school for years to learn how to teach, y’all. It ain’t the easiest thing to pick up on).  And then I’d probably have nowhere to stay for the night, no idea where anything was or how to go about finding it, no idea what to do with people who wanted to get baptized once I, miraculously, learned the language and, just as miraculously, found people who actually wanted to get baptized. No structure = not much happens. Problem!

Solution: a system where we spend time in the Missionary Training Center to learn the language and how to teach random strangers about the gospel message. More experienced missionaries are put with less experienced missionaries to help them learn. We have a mission president and his wife, as well as people working in the mission office, to help us find places to live and to help us when there are emergencies that we, as young’uns, have no idea how to handle on our own. We have the materials we need, such as pamphlets and scriptures, to give away. We know where the local meetinghouse is and how to get there. We have the resources and knowledge we need to get by in such a stressful environment, so that we can focus more time on working and less time on being lost and confused. Whew. Thank goodness!

And what about things that cost a lot of money? Like, say, temples? I’m pretty sure I couldn’t afford to build one! Even all the members working together in a country like, say, Nigeria quite possibly could not afford to build a temple. You know who can afford to build a temple? Really, really rich people. Or, you could you just combine a bunch of tithing money from people all over the world, including from much richer areas of the world, and voila, suddenly you can afford to build something really expensive in some place that’s really poor. And the members there don’t have to spend a whole lot of money they can’t afford to give to gain the strength and protection they get from covenants made in such a sacred place by the Lord’s own Priesthood power. They just pay what we’ve all been asked to pay, and working together they can have the same spiritual blessings that people living in richer areas of the world do.

There are also things such as Humanitarian work (remember those bright yellow “Helping Hands” shirts? Those represent great effort from many people to accomplish more good than one person on their own could. Or even more good than that many people working separately, in an unorganized, haphazard manner could), the welfare program of the church, church schools (so much cheaper than other private universities), institutes, meetinghouses, and the like. When we all work together in an organized manner, we have the resources and the manpower to do so much good. On our own, it’s much less effective.

Locally
On the local level, a Priesthood leader living in the area is called to lead the congregation as Bishop. He ensures that ward members are being taken care of both physically and spiritually. He is given specific responsibilities to perform. However, like most humans, he cannot personally visit all 300 ward members every week and plan every meeting and teach every lesson while still working 40 hours a week at his normal job.

So he delegates to the presidents of the various organizations (Relief Society, Elder’s Quorum, High Priests, Young Men and Young Women, and Primary), who, in turn, delegate to the other members of their presidencies and committees. Anyone can be called to any one of these callings at any given time, which means that each of us has the opportunity to serve those within our ward boundaries. 
Each of us needs spiritual and physical nourishment, and sometimes we need help from others to get the nourishment we need. These callings provide us with a way to see the needs of others, including people we may not come into contact with normally. And for those frequent moments when we have no idea of their needs, the Lord has promised to provide us with the revelation we need to know how to bear meet those needs. God knows their needs, and He has promised to magnify our efforts as we serve in our church callings with all our heart, might, mind, and strength. Through these callings, we have opportunities to make sure others in our locality are spiritually, physically, socially, and mentally nourished and taken care of.

The one calling in our life that never changes is that of home or visiting teacher. This lifetime calling gives us ample opportunities to serve others on a very personal, meaningful level. Home and visiting teaching gives us an opportunity to visit with others in the ward, to get to know them and their struggles and their joys. As we visit every month, we can receive revelation (and sometimes observe with our own intellect) what they need. If we discover that they are struggling, we can help. If they need love, or support, or help financially or physically, we are in their home every month, and they (hopefully) know they can turn to us. This is the purpose of home and visiting teaching, so that every member of every ward gets visited in their home every month so that their needs can be met by other members. If their needs are something more than we have the resources to help them with, we can inform the Bishop, and he can help them in ways that we maybe cannot. But since he cannot visit every member every month, he asks us too, and in this way it is not just the higher-up leaders of the ward organization that have the opportunity to personally serve the members of the church, but all of us have that opportunity as well.

***************


Of course there are a lot of other organizations we can, and probably should, get involved in, but this list of things we can accomplish as an organized church is just another example of why we need a church, and not just a religion. A church organization can do things that religious people working individually cannot. This is a small list of what we can accomplish working together. A more comprehensive list can be found in the talk “Why the Church” by Elder Todd D. Christofferson. Without organized religion, the blessings of the restored Priesthood, such as baptism by proper authority and temple work, cannot spread. Nor, without organized religion, do we have as easy an opportunity provided for us to nourish others both physically and spiritually. We can accomplish much good on our own, but when we work together within the framework of the church, our whole becomes more than the sum of our parts. 

Sunday, January 24, 2016

Prophets as Anchor of Truth in its Purity

Many people today chafe at the idea of having someone else tell them what to do with their lives. When it comes to the structure of the Mormon church, they claim that we “blindly follow” whatever the prophets say, that we are in slavery to them (does this sound like Korihor to anyone?). And while us Mormons do believe in doing whatever the prophet counsels us to do, we tend to view it a little differently. But these people bring up an interesting question: Why do people who are able to use their own fully competent brains to make their own fully sound decisions need a prophet to tell them what to do?

Good question. I’m not sure I know all the reasons, but I have discovered enough to reassure my mind of what the Spirit had already taught my heart. Although in the end what will matter will be the individual spiritual confirmation each of us has of the prophet’s divine calling, sometimes the Spirit teaches us through reason. So can we take a look at some of the reasons why we have a prophet?

As Mormons, we come from so many different backgrounds. Nationally, economically, culturally, and ethnically we are all so diverse. We need this diversity. From people who are different from us we learn new ways of looking at the gospel, ways that heighten our own perspective of the gospel. We learn how to get along with people, how to understand them better, how to serve and love like Jesus did (and does).

But some of these diversities include views on the gospel that are not quite doctrinal (this includes ideas sometimes brought to the table by long-life members). The goal is to keep those things from our culture that bring us closer to the Savior and to discard those ideas that keep us from fully embracing His role in our lives. And as we use the guidance of the Holy Ghost and the words of the scriptures, we can all achieve this balance. The danger comes when, instead of changing the culture we grew up with to fit the doctrine, we instead change the doctrine of the church to fit our culture.

We see this in the New Testament as Peter and Paul tell the Jewish converts to Christianity that the Law of Moses was fulfilled in Christ. They don’t just tell them this once, nor even twice, but again and again. It takes a long time for the Jewish converts to stop trying to fit the Savior’s gospel to suit the culture they are used to, instead of changing their culture to better fit the gospel.

Of course there was other confusion tied up with the idea of abandoning the Law of Moses; it was the Jewish way of worshipping the Savior, after all, so it’s perfectly understandable that, for them, being told that the Law was now unnecessary was a little hard to understand. The point I’m making, though, is that the people of these time needed a leader, a spokesman from the Lord, to steer them back onto the gospel path at a time when they were steering off it.

We see this idea of culture overtaking doctrine in modern-day culture as well, even in Mormon religious strongholds such as Utah. While most Utah Mormons I know are very devoted, Christ-like people, the stereotype associated with the phrase “Utah Mormon” does exist here in the here in the Mormon Bubble. Utah Mormons, beyond being Mormons who live in Utah, are those hypocritical church-goers who have gotten so caught up in the cultural aspects of living in Utah that they have strayed from actual Mormon doctrine. Specifically, I’m talking about the tendency to try to look perfect as a way to portray yourself as either “good enough”, or as better than your non-Mormon (or less righteous Mormon) neighbors. And indeed, sometimes here in the Mormon Bubble it does feel as if you’ve got to be perfect to fit in.

Tied into these beliefs is the idea that if you want people to think you’re righteous, first you’ve got to convince them that nothing in your life ever goes wrong. Or, if it does, that it doesn’t upset you. Righteous people are always happy, always faithful, have big homes, lots of money, and lots of perfect, happy children. Outwardly, they are blessed of the Lord. Strangely enough, nowhere in the scriptures is this doctrine taught. And if you look at the words of modern-day prophets and apostles, you’ll find that this unique Utah Mormon doctrine is preached against time and time again (for example, see President Uchtdorf’s talk "Forget Me Not" from October 2011). 

Of course there are many other examples out there of culture being confused with doctrine all across the world. This is just one example of something that, as a Mormon from Utah, I have experienced in my life. The difference between culture and doctrine, actual truth and mere tradition, is a very tricky thing to figure out.

When these distortions happen, prophets and apostles, as men who speak for God, catch on to this much quicker than we do. They teach the truth in its purity. You’ll notice that they tend to talk about the same basic principles over and over again. This is for those times when we start to get our culture mixed up with our doctrine, as a way to guide us back to the actual doctrine that we as Mormons profess to believe in. People from different backgrounds bring with them different interpretations of the gospel, and this is helpful and needed in giving us a different perspective than the limited scope of our life’s experiences. And then, with the prophet’s words as our guide, if any one we come into contact with tells us something that we’re not sure is correct doctrine, we can check it against the words of the prophets to see if it is in line with God’s truth, or whether it is a cultural misinterpretation, or whether we merely think that it’s a cultural misinterpretation because of our own cultural biases.

Of course we can turn to the scriptures to learn the basics of the doctrine as well, but God is not done revealing things, and at any rate, the cultural distortions common today are much different than the ones in the time of Moses. Not many people today think that it’s all right to worship golden calves, but buying a flat-screen T.V. before paying tithing or providing for your family? That’s a lot more common and, strangely enough, not something that ever gets mentioned in the Bible. I don’t think Moses or even Moroni knew anything about the potential benefits and dangers of social media, diet fads, or even the addictive nature of pervasive pornography. Elder Bednar, a modern-day apostle, on the other hand, obviously does.

The prophet and apostles provide an anchor of truth. The church as an organization thrives when people bring unique viewpoints into it, but we need something with which to measure the doctrinal accuracy of both our own unique viewpoints and those of others. Cultures and traditions and programs change; God’s doctrine never will. The Plan of Salvation was set forth before the world began, and it will never change, regardless of what mankind may teach. The Doctrine of Christ, as well, was set forth before the world began and will therefore never change. The centrality of family, the power of the Priesthood, the ten commandments - all of these are things that will never change, regardless of what the world believes. Sometimes people’s unique ideas about the gospel – including our own – are very insightful, and sometimes they include false doctrine. Apostasy happens so quickly (read any of the epistles in the New Testament for an example of how the cultural environment of an individual causes them to warp doctrine to better fit their neighbor’s ideas of the world), and without a leader there to keep emphasizing the things God needs us to know – to restate the basic doctrine over and over again – we all, like sheep, would go astray (see Isaiah 53:6)

One final scripture as a springboard for your personal continued study of this idea:

And he gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers; For the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ: Till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ: That we henceforth be no more children, tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the sleight of men, and cunning craftiness, whereby they lie in wait to deceive.
-Ephesians 4:11-14                                                                 


Monday, December 14, 2015

Community Conversion

Lately I have been pondering a lot on the purpose of religion as an organization. As a private, solitary creature, a definite introvert, I prefer that my sacred experiences either occur in private or are shared with a small number of people of my choosing. As my relationship with the Lord is something that even as an English major I do not have the words to describe, I also tend to not feel that all my moments of continuing conversion to the gospel should be put on display for the world to witness. So partaking of the Sacrament in a large group setting can feel unnatural to me, as can attending the temple with a room full of strangers. Sometimes I just want to worship in private, and I don’t understand why I have to worship in a group.

But as much as I believe that certain experiences should occur in private settings, also believe in the scriptures and the words of modern-day prophets, and I do believe that God is speaking through them when they emphasize things such as weekly church attendance, monthly visiting and home teaching, sharing testimony of the gospel with others, and other sacred experiences that require a group setting to occur.

Why, though? Why does the Lord emphasize this idea of “community conversion” so much when He also very much wants us to have our own personal relationship with him? Why do we go to church instead of just studying our scriptures at home on our own, or even with our family? Why this need for a religious organization, instead of just a religion?

As I’ve pondered this over the past several months, the Spirit has let seep several eternal principles into my heart, as well as into my mind. A lot of them come from the talk “Why the Church” by Elder D. Todd Christofferson from this last General  Conference. The rest of them come from Mosiah 18, a wonderful chapter on how the church as an organization is meant to function.

Because I have a lot of thoughts on this topic, I will be posting one or two insights at a time, rather than overwhelm you with all of them all at once. But to start with:

It strengthens my testimony to hear like-minded people speak of the same things that are in my heart. Hearing others’ perspectives helps me to look at things in a different light, giving me a more complete understanding of the gospel. It helps me to know that I am not the only one who believes what I believe. Sometimes it helps to realize that I’m not the only one who doesn’t have all the answers, but that I’m also not the only one who is willing to press on in faith anyway. It helps to know that other people exist who sacrifice for family, for God, for religious freedoms. The whole is more than the sum of its parts, and I feel this sometimes when I’m with a group of people – my ward, my Relief Society, my visiting teachers, my online missionary committee – who are trying to help other people find more hope, faith, and love through coming unto Christ.  These people strengthen me and help me feel less alone as a valiant follower of Christ.

Which brings me to my next point: Our baptismal covenant includes going to church. Not just so we can take of the Sacrament, or else church services would only be ten minutes long. To strengthen others in the same way that they strengthen us. In Mosiah 18:8-10, Alma says to the people he has been preaching to:

as ye are desirous to come into the fold of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light; yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort . . . Now I say unto you, if this be the desire of your hearts, what have ye against being baptized in the name of the Lord?

We promised at baptism to serve God, and what that promise really meant was that we would serve His children. “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matthew 25:40). When we serve others, we strengthen our relationship with God. We understand better the love He has for us because we feel more of that love for other people inside of us. We start to understand the significance of the Savior’s sacrifice for us as we too learn the hardship and joy of sacrificing for other people. Our callings refine us, humble us, help us understand who, exactly, the Savior is on a deeper level: “If I then , your Lord and Master, have washed your feet; ye also ought to wash one another’s feet.” The Lord knows us perfectly because He experienced our sufferings in the Garden of Gethsamene (see Alma 7:11-13) We come to know who He is and what He did for us as we too "bear one another's burdens" as we strive to fulfill our baptismal covenants.

And on the other side of things, we learn to accept the Savior’s love and forgiveness as we allow other people to love and forgive us. We learn to accept the Savior’s infinite saving gift as we let other people do things for us that save our day. We learn how to love, and we learn how to be loved. Both are an essential part of who we need to be to experience true joy, and these are principles of the gospel that cannot be learned in isolation.

Sunday, October 18, 2015

Naturally Renewing

There are mornings where just looking at the mountains causing such a stirring in my heart – I guess you could call it joy, or gratitude, or excitement for life – whatever it is, it makes me happy to be alive.

And I wonder if it’s because the mountains are a place I have always been taken to get away from the worries and stresses of life, away from school and work and the never-ending presence of other people and buildings and cars. A place I equate with being alone and at peace with nothing to prove and no one to prove it to.

Because as much as I love socializing and getting to know new people, there is a part of me that will always needs its space to figure out who I am away from the confusion of other ideas and opinions and theories and personalities and beliefs. How am I like these people and how am I different? Too many presences of other people pressing on my own sense of self overwhelms me, drowns me in its complexity, and I have to run to someplace devoid of the evidence of human civilization to slowly be able to let my own self seep through again.

I suppose that’s why I find such joy in riding my bike. Nobody can keep up with me, nobody wants to, I can look at the houses and the mountains and the trees and not worry about anybody looking at me.

Most days I go down to the trail by the river, pavement surrounded on one side by a darkly flowing river and on either side by trees, now changing color to match their cousins in the mountains.

This is heaven. The wind, the smell of water, the leaves falling and covering the path, no one expecting me to talk or think or do anything but keep those wheels moving, round and round and round and round, and it feels so good to run away from the things that stress me most.

And sometimes I find a place where I can walk my bike down to the bank of the river, and I leave my bike behind with my stress as I walk along the packed-down dirt and stones and plants. And sometimes I just sit and memorize the ever-changing pattern of the river’s flow, or the way the trees grow sideways off the bank on the opposite side.

And, if it’s not too muddy, I take slow steps into the river itself, letting the coldness of it flow over my sandal-shod feet on its way to where it’s going from wherever it’s coming from.

And while it would be interesting to find out where those places are, all that matters right now is that at this moment in time the water is running over my toes, cooling my feet and calming my soul. I watch the water as it goes, and marvel at how it’s always replaced by more water in a never-ending cycle of renewal.

And with that constant renewal of water comes a renewal of the worn-down pieces of my soul, and again I feel excited to be alive.

Sunday, October 11, 2015

Inspired Mistakes

I’m scared of making mistakes. The fear of saying the wrong thing freezes words in my throat, and sometimes I so want to be that perfect person that even when I know I should act, I find the pressure of saying the right words keeping me from saying anything at all.

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: . . . a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance” (Ecclesiastes 3:1-4).

A time to make mistakes, and a time to perform flawlessly. A time to demand exactness of oneself, and a time to relax judgment in favor of understanding and love.

The prophet Lehi teaches the necessity of “an opposition in all things” (2 Nephi 2:11). Misery and holiness, good and bad, life and death. Adam and Eve disobeyed so we can live with God forever. Heavenly Father allowed them to fall so that through the Atonement we may all be lifted up to endless glory.

“And now, behold, if Adam had not transgressed he would not have fallen, but he would have remained in the Garden of Eden.” And what would he and Eve have been doing while stuck in there? “No good, for they knew no sin” (2 Nephi 2:22-23).

If we never mess up, we never learn how to avoid those same mistakes later on.

In my growing up years, I performed at many a piano concert. None of them went flawlessly, although most of them were close enough. Surprisingly, the passages I struggled with in practice were not the same ones I struggled with in performance. Why not? Because the difficult passages I practiced over and over and over again until they were my forté. Those passages I never messed up on I didn’t take the time to drill, and thus they became my downfall. They were not ingrained in my memory the way the more difficult parts of the piece were, so when the pressure was high and my nerves even higher I reached those “easy” passages and I stumbled. It was my weaknesses that became my strengths and saved my performances from failure.  

I remember one summer working a month of Sundays. When I finally went back to church, I realized for the first time how big of a difference that weekly spiritual feast makes in my temperament. I hadn’t been that cheerful at work in a long time. Would I ever be willing to miss church now? Heck. No.

Or the time on my mission when I did not have the health to work all day every day like I so wanted to. Anytime I felt well enough to be up and about, I made sure we got out of the apartment and worked. That was why I was there, after all. But somewhere in all my focus on the work, I neglected to take the time for my own personal studies. After a week-and-a-half, I recognized that my level of crankiness was lower than normal, and I thought: “Man, maybe I should start reading my scriptures again.” And back up my mood went. Have I missed a day of scripture study since then? No, and I never will. I understand now the necessity of feeding myself spiritually before I can feed others spiritually.

And I learned these lessons through messing up. I’m not saying that anything we ever learn comes about through the mistakes we make, and I’m definitely not advocating intentional mistake-making. All I’m getting at is that Heavenly Father is all right with us making mistakes. He’s provided us with that possibility as a way for us to learn.

“Behold, I will show unto the Gentiles their weakness, and I will show unto them that faith, hope and charity bringeth unto me – the fountain of all righteousness” (Ether 12:28).

We wouldn’t have reason to come unto Christ if we didn’t recognize our weakness. And how would we recognize our weaknesses if we never acknowledged our mistakes? “And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness.” Not for the sake of discouragement, but “that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me.” And then, of course, comes the promised blessing at the end: “then will I make weak things become strong unto them” (Ether 12:27). 

I see this in my life every day. For a girl who used to be so shy, I am surprisingly social. For someone who loves her independence, I am wonderfully dependent on my Savior. And every day I recognize new changes in myself, changes that have come about slowly through mistake after mistake. 

Our weaknesses bring us down so we can rise again through Christ. A time to fall, a time to be lifted up by the Savior of all mankind. Christ Himself “descended below all things, in that he comprehended all things, that he might be in all and through all things.” We have to fall before we can learn to trust the Savior to lift us all the way up to Heavenly Father. We have to make mistakes so that we can understand that we can never fall so far that the Savior cannot heal everyone affected by that fall. Mistakes are vital. They make us human. They are why we are here on earth – so that by making them, we can learn to give our burdens to the Savior and let Him bear the weight.

For more on this idea of mistakes and weakness, check out this inspired book: Weakness is Not Sin






Thursday, September 24, 2015

Biffing It

First day of classes on BYU campus and I want to get the semester off to a good start. I wake up at 7:00, trot down the stairs of my apartment complex, unlock my bike from its post, swing my leg over its frame, and head off down the street. Brisk air, legs pumping, wheels turning fast. Freedom. Approaching the intersection at 800 N and University, I go to get on the sidewalk to avoid the confusion I always feel as a cyclist pretending to be a motorized vehicle. My bike hits the lip of pavement separating the sidewalk from the road, my bike starts to wobble, and . . .

I biff it. Biff it good. My bike slips, I try hopelessly to keep it upright, I think desperately, “I’m not even wearing a helmet,” and bam! I hit the pavement. A fellow cyclist riding by on the other side of the street sees my demise and shouts out, “Are you okay?” Having not fully assessed my situation myself, all I can do is shout back a shaky “Yes?” and the cyclist rides on. I stand up and examine myself. Left elbow: bleeding. Quite a bit. Right knee: scraped, but not bleeding yet. It could have been much worse.

I walk my bike back home, elbow dripping blood, handlebars twisted out of alignment with my front tire. I walk into my apartment and show my roommate my battle wound, expecting her to laugh with me at the irony of a college senior who rides her bike almost every day for the sheer joy of it and hasn’t crashed it in at least ten years losing control over something as small as a one-inch difference in surface level. How does that even happen?

But she didn’t laugh. She exclaimed: “Oh my goodness! Are you okay? Did you hit your head? Is your bike all right?” And I thought, “What the heck? That crash was so pathetic, I thought the world would laugh at it along with me.”

But they didn’t. No one did. My parents, my siblings, friends, roommates, ward members. They all responded with genuine concern that carried no trace of amusement.

Why? How could they not laugh at the irony of someone my age, as experienced with bike riding as I am, crashing so easily?

But it seemed instead that they grasped the tragedy of someone – no matter the age or experience level – slamming to the ground at such a speed when not wearing even a helmet as protective gear.

And as I pondered their reactions, and how they differed from mine, I thought of the Savior and how His response to when I mess up so often differs from mine.

Because sometimes even at my experienced age, there comes a day when I unexpectedly fall. Days when the same situation I’ve dealt with over and over again and gotten really good at handling in a Christlike/professional/confident/whatever-adjective-you-want way rears its angry head yet again, and I think, “I’ve got this,” but somehow . . . I biff it. I biff it good.

And I know I’m not the only one. We all have experiences where something small throws us completely off. We lose our temper, we say something rude, we say the wrong thing, we don’t say anything at all, we know what we should do and we don’t do it – whatever it is, we do it wrong, and we can’t believe that at our age, with our level of experience, we could mess up so bad.

I’ve been there. On the mission, standing at the doorstep and someone answers. It’s my turn to do the door approach, and I freeze and words stumble out in a random order that vaguely makes sense but also vaguely makes it sound like I’m completely terrified. Or while teaching, and I think, “How do I begin a lesson without it feeling awkward?” and then five minutes later I realize that I jumped straight into the lesson without giving How to Begin Teaching even a passing thought. Because even though I’ve been doing the same thing over and over again for the past year of my life, sometimes my mind goes blank and . . . I biff it. Biff it good.

Or now, back to civilian life, and I think: How do I make friends? How do I make small talk? How do I motivate myself to do homework when I have no desire to do it? I thought I had this all figured out before the mission, but now things have changed – I’ve changed – and the things that worked for me before don’t always work for me now. And over and over again I wonder: How do I this without falling?

And while I’m slowly figuring it out, there are still those times when I hesitate and I stumble and . . . I biff it. Biff it good. Little things that I thought I had already figured out throw me off, and I feel my confidence in myself being slammed to the ground, feel it as it starts to bleed. And it’s not a comedy, and it’s not a tragedy, it’s pathetic and stupid and frustrating and I have no patience for it. Me, at my age, with my level of experience and hard work, acting like I’m still a college freshman? Please. Surely I can do better than that.

But then I had my experience with crashing my bike the first day of classes, and the reactions of my parents and siblings and friends surprised me. And maybe this is because I often compare my Father in Heaven’s love with the love I feel from all those Christlike souls around me, but suddenly I understood: Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ never view my falls as humorous or annoying. They view them as a tragedy. Not a tragedy, exactly, because there’s always the hope of a happy ending, and of course pain is an integral, needed part of life, but I know that when I don’t perform as well as I wish I had, they feel my pain. They feel my disappointment in myself – but they are not disappointed in me. They cry with me because they love me and they understand that, as a mortal being, I will fall. For reasons that I do not understand, I will crash that bike, and I will biff it. I will biff it good. And they are infinitely more concerned with how I am doing than with the crash. Am I okay? Is my heart all right? Did I hit any unprotected part of my soul? And I can just picture them hugging me, like a mother embracing her child who has just experienced her first scraped knee, and I know that they don’t judge me for not being perfect at something I thought I had perfected long ago.

And slowly I am learning to view my falls in the same way. Not as a comedy, not as an illustration of how pathetic I can be, but as something that hurts my soul of infinite worth, something deserving of a hug and a kiss to make it better, an incident when I have permission to feel the pain of crashing and still feel concern for myself and my well-being. Because more important than my circumstances is the way I respond to them, and only as I treat myself with love can I view those around me with the same depth of emotion. And isn't that what the gospel is all about? About seeing those around us as a whole being and being concerned, not with their weaknesses and imperfections, but with their emotions and their needs and how to help them know their worth and their potential and how they can work to achieve it? 

That involves loving them as they fall. Not judging them, not thinking less of them, not arrogantly wondering how in the world they could manage to fail at something so simple, but seeing them at their center and wanting them to find joy. And to feel that way towards others, we must first start with feeling that way towards ourselves. 





Thursday, September 17, 2015

I See a Light! Part II


(To recap) If the light is the source of everything worthwhile, then why do we so often stray?

There are two categories of reasons that come readily to my mind: distractions and doubt. I will talk about each of them separately, although they do often tend to overlap.

A distraction can be anything that causes us to take our eyes off of the light that is the Savior of the world. These things can include: political ideologies that we have a different opinion on than do the prophets and apostles (or even just our fellow members at church), deep doctrine that doesn’t make sense to us, church history that we can’t reconcile with what the scriptures teach us, imperfect Priesthood leaders whom we don’t understand why they were put in positions of power and authority . . . I could go on. A lot goes on in the church, and sometimes people use things they don’t understand – or make no effort to understand – as a reason to leave. The thing is, though, none of these concerns that I mentioned are the light. They are merely specks on the horizon. Sometimes as we look towards the light, and especially as we’re looking from a far-off distance, it’s easy to see these distractions and hard to tell that they are not included in the light. But the closer we get to the light the more the light illuminates the things around it, and the easier it is to see and understand how these different issues fit into the context of an imperfect world and imperfect people made by a perfect God with a perfect plan. The important thing to remember is that these specks on the horizon are nowhere near as big or all-encompassing as the light, and ultimately they change nothing about the reality of a loving Savior. These issues do not define the Savior; rather, the light of the Savior helps us define them through the viewpoint of eternity. Who knows what the horizon that Sailor headed towards looked like? She could easily have been distracted by the sound of barking dogs coming from the direction she was headed, or by burnt-out trees or other ugly scenery on the way to her light – but it wasn’t the scenery she was headed for. It was the light that gave her hope, and she was not about to let anything keep her from reaching that source of healing she had chosen to believe lay at the end of her journey. The moment she reached the light, the harshness of the horizon faded in significance to the peace that came from knowing that she had found her source of healing.

The second category of reasons why we stray from the light is doubts. We doubt that we’ll ever be good enough, we doubt that Heavenly Father has enough love to forgive us, we doubt that the harshness of the journey will be worth it, we don’t understand why we’ve been given such a difficult trial to deal with. We doubt ourselves or we doubt our Savior (and I think those two doubts are one and the same). We doubt that peace, joy, love, healing can be ours – and so we don’t even try for it. 

But when we do this, we let spiritual (and sometimes physical) wounds keep us from our journey to the only one who has the power to heal our wounds. Other sources can patch us up, make us feel better – but they can’t replace scabs with perfect skin. Only the Savior can do that – and He does it with spiritual wounds as well. He replaces despair with hope, confusion with understanding, fear with faith and love, anger and bitterness with love and forgiveness. He helps us see us and the world around us the way that He sees them. It’s a higher perspective, and it is Truth and Beauty defined.

These promised blessings don’t come fully overnight. The sun comes up over several hours’ time, and the changing of a soul is an even more powerful miracle than that. It takes repetition, much like building muscle. It takes day after day after day of repeating the same basic things over and over and over again, and as we do so we feel our strength and joy increasing. Sailor had to put one foot in front of the other over and over and over again and never stop, no matter what. None of us will ever be completely done with our journey to the light until we are united with the light completely – and that won’t happen until resurrection and judgment and our assignment into the kingdom whose glory our own soul best reflects.

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

Offering Love and Freedom

This morning I read an article linked to on my Facebook page that really made me think. It was written by an ex-Mormon who described the way he was treated as he left the church, and how he has been treated since. It seemed to me that that main point of the article was to call out church members for not practicing what they preach, for shaming and judging and labeling those who choose to leave the church rather than showing them Christ-like love, understanding, compassion, room to make their own decisions, even if those decisions seem to us to be a mistake.

This writer has a point. Do we assume that we know what people who believe and act differently from us are feeling, are thinking, where their life is headed? Because we don’t. We barely even know what we’re feeling, what we’re thinking, where our life is headed. All of us are trying to live our lives to the best of our knowledge. And because knowledge comes from life experience and everybody’s experiences are unique, the knowledge that we gain in this live will always be different than the knowledge of those around us. And so we build our individual lives, brick of hard-earned knowledge upon brick of even harder-earned knowledge, and we look at the structures other people are building and we think, “What in the world are they thinking to be building something like that?” Well, maybe they’re thinking the same thing about the structure that we’re building, and as we mislabel each other’s structures and try to get everyone’s structure to look exactly like ours we’re overlooking one important point: None of us are even using the same bricks. Your structure will never look the same as mine, much as mine will never look the same as yours. You can try, but that kind of a structure will always fail. No matter how similar we may seem on the outside, there are always miniscule differences in our building bricks that become more and more apparent the more we get to know each other.

And maybe one reason we assume things about these people who see the world so differently than we do is because we’re scared. Differences in our makeup as compared to other people scare us. Not always, and not everyone, but often. Maybe especially in the Mormon world. If someone else believes strongly that what I believe with all my heart is false – what happens if they’re right? What does it say about how I’m living my life, about how I’ve always lived my life, about this foundation that I’ve spent years and countless years building deep into the ground to give myself something to be anchored to so that when hard times come I won’t be knocked down with the wind of uncertainty? What happens if they’re right. . . and I’m wrong?

Psychologically speaking, this is a valid concern. Other beliefs threaten ours. We can’t both be right. Either they’re wrong, or the whole basis for how I pattern my life is. That’s a scary thought. So we get defensive. We have to be right because if we’re not, there goes everything that validates our existence. So the obvious conclusion is that we are right – and they’re wrong. Completely, 100% wrong. Anything in what they have to say that sparks of truth threatens everything we’ve always believed – and that’s a terrifying feeling.

We don’t have to be this way. You don’t have to be this way. Because maybe both of you are right. Maybe their experiences are valid. Maybe if you had had the same experiences, you’d feel the same way. And maybe not. There’s no way of knowing. All you do know is the experiences you have had. The experiences where God has answered your prayers with a feeling of intense comfort, or reassurance, or peace, or maybe even a though that you know was not your own. The experiences where you’re reading the scriptures, and suddenly you know that your Savior is right there with you, telling you the same things He’s telling the people in the scriptures. And on and on and on. Those experiences are real. Someone else not understanding them will never make them invalid. All it means is that that person is not you, and therefore can never fully understand what you have gone through in your life. The only person who can ever do that is the Savior Himself. And that person standing there, presenting a differing viewpoint of life and religion, threatening your beliefs? That person is not Jesus – which also mean that he/she does not, by definition cannot, understand the universe in its entirety. Why not? Because they did not create it in its entirety under the direction of the Supreme Ruler of the Universe.

This also implies something else interesting: with all the things that have been revealed through the Restoration of the Gospel, we still don’t know everything there is to know. Why not? Mainly from a lack of personal experience. I don’t know what it’s like to be gay. I don’t know what it’s like to be a male member of the Mormon church who, for whatever reason, is not able to serve a full-time mission. I don’t know what it’s like to have cancer or to come from a rough family background. So how can I understand people like them unless I take the time to listen to them, to really understand who they are, and why? And without understanding them, how can I possibly begin to understand why they do the things they do?

So maybe people who leave the church really are happier outside it than in. Maybe it’s because the people around them misunderstand the Atonement and the purpose for the organization of the church to the point that it makes it difficult for these individuals to understand it. Maybe they’re sick of being judged. Maybe they don’t understand everything they’ve discovered about church history. Maybe they’ve read too many anti-Mormon articles. Whatever it is, how do we know that if we were in their shoes, we wouldn’t also see the appeal of leaving? All that telling them that they need to repent does is further alienate them. That is not love. Love is making sure they are 100% certain that they can spend time with you without you thinking you’re better than them because you’ve made choices that are more righteous. Everyone needs a place where they feel safe from judgment. That is the only way anyone will ever trust. They can know your beliefs without feeling judged because they don’t share them, just as we want to spend time with people whose beliefs are different than ours without feeling judged because we don’t share their (possibly more “politically correct”) beliefs.

All I’m asking for is understanding and freedom. Love and agency. Two central principles of the gospel. So many times I’ve wanted to go back to my mission and genuinely get to know the people who weren’t interested in what I had to teach. They were good people, and I was curious about their points of view and why they saw life that way – what did they have to add to they way I view the gospel? I couldn’t have done that while on the mission – but I can do it now. My point of view is not always correct. I am not God, I did not create this universe, this world, the people in it, and, like everyone else, my experience on this earth is limited. I’m still learning. Other experiences from other people’s backgrounds help me gain a more God-like perspective. Even if those people are not entirely correct in their viewpoint, something they say will help me gain a better understanding of humanity, of actions and consequences, of the part each of us has to play in this world. There is always something to learn from the people around us, whether or not they share our beliefs, and we can only learn it we stop judging them for long enough to listen.