Random Thoughts

A few random thoughts are currently fighting for "equal time" on the blog, so I'm putting them all out there at once.

Having a Bad Day?

It's no fun living or working with someone who's unpredictably moody. You know the kind. When you show up at the office and a co-worker says, "Stay away from so-and-so today!" So you end up walking on eggshells around Mr. or Miss So-and-So because they got up "on the wrong side of the bed." When confronted about it they inevitably blame their foul mood on someone or something else, or because they're having a "bad day."

What would life be like if God had "bad days"? ("Stay away from Heavenly Father today ... wait until He's cooled down!") I'm so glad that His mood -- meaning His feelings toward me -- is unchanging. He is always willing to make time and listen. And He never ever withdraws the offer of mercy and forgiveness when I've fallen short.

Mysteries

When we read a mystery novel, we do so with the expectation that by the time we get to the final page the identity of the villain will be revealed and his motives will all be explained. But what if we got to the end and found no answers at all? What if the author fully intended on keeping us in the dark forever? No sequel; no hint that the story will be continued. Only the finality of  "The End." What a lousy book! 

The man-made religions of our day offer a "storyline" that provides no answers. It surprises me that in spite of this they have so many willing followers. I mean they teach that people are supposed to accept the fact that there are lots of mysteries about God and that the answers to those mysterdies are unknowable -- answers to questions about who He is, our relationship to Him, where we came from, why we're here, and what awaits us after we die. Then they declare (with no authority) that it was never intended that men know the answers to these questions.

That was never what Jesus taught. In the Savior's great intercessory prayer to the Father, He said that the purpose of this life is for all men "to know Thee, the only true God" (John 17:3). Religions that claim there are unknowable mysteries act as if their version of the Bible says, "This is life eternal, that they might never know Thee."

Thank God for answers -- for revelation and living prophets.

When members of other churches hear our claims to having answers, it can be quite unsettling for them, as illustrated in the following story:

I had an interesting experience years ago as we were returning from South America on a ship. Three ministers were on board, and soon each one came to me and asked if there might be an opportunity to talk together to learn what the Mormons believed. One was a Methodist, one a Presbyterian, and one a Disciple of Christ.

We arranged a visit together and spent a pleasant hour, they asking questions and I giving answers. Our visit was warm, friendly, and congenial. After about the first ten minutes, they began to look at each other and say, "Isn't it interesting -- he has an answer for every question." And they repeated this comment over and over.

A day or two later the Methodist brother stopped to talk with me, saying, "I have been thinking of what you told us the other day. I think you know too much. I wonder if God wants us to know everything." I could tell that he was offended at my knowledge of the revelations. (Elder Wm. Grant Bangerter, General Conference, Oct. 1998. He's the father of Julie Beck, General President of the Relief Society.)

Being a "Therefore" Latter-day Saint vs. a "However" One

During Elder Boyd K. Packer's service as a mission president in New England, the mission headquarters were in Cambridge, next-door to Harvard University. He related the following experience:

Professors from Harvard University who were members of the Church invited me to lunch over at the Harvard Business School faculty dining room. They wanted to know if I would join them in participating in a new publication; they wanted me to contribute to it.

They were generous in their compliments, saying that because I had a doctorate a number of people in the Church would listen to me, and being a General Authority [an Assistant to the Twelve] . . . I could have some very useful influence.

I listened to them very attentively but indicated at the close of the conversation that I would not join them. I asked to be excused from responding to their request. When they asked why, I told them this:

"When your associates announced the project, they described how useful it would be to the Church -- a niche that needed to be filled. And then the spokesman said, 'We are all active and faithful members of the Church; however . . .'

I told my two hosts that if the announcement had read, 'We are all active and faithful members of the Church; therefore . . .' I would have joined their organization. I had serious questions about a 'however' organization. I have little worry over a 'therefore' organization" (from the biography of Boyd K. Packer, "Boyd K. Packer - Watchman on the Tower").

From time to time this story has prompted me to ask myself, "Am I a 'therefore' Latter-day Saint, or a 'however' one?" Try this: Divide a paper into two columns. On one side write, "I am a Latter-day Saint, therefore . . ." and on the other, "I am a Latter-day Saint, however . . ." then begin filling in the blanks. It can be a revealing exercise, revealing whether there are behaviors in your life that you rationalize, even though you've made covenants not to.

Unsatisfactory Explanations For Untimely Death

I am writing this one day after the tragic shooting of Arizona congresswoman, Gabrielle Giffords. Several innocents died and many more were injured. Whenever incidents like these occur, someone inevitably steps up and says such a tragedy was "God's will." Here are two examples from the past:

Several years ago there was an article in USA Today about the high death rates among teenaged drivers. A former emergency room doctor was interviewed for the story. He said he "shudders to recall how some parents reacted to hearing their teens had just died in a crash. It was amazing," he said, "how many would say, 'I guess it was just his time.'"

In 2006, after the shooting of ten Amish girls in a schoolhouse, the following appeared in USA Today:
"There is a religious canopy over Amish life. They accept the killings as God's will and part of God's plan, however mysterious or painful . . . Underscoring the whole process is a vivid belief in a close, living God -- the unseen actor who controls every human tragedy and comedy according to a script that often defies understanding." That's not the only thing that defies understanding.

                                   

This is 9-year-old Christina Taylor-Green, the third-grader who was shot and killed yesterday in that terrible tragedy in Tucson. I wonder how much of a comfort it would be to her parents if you told them their daughter's  death was "God's will" or "I guess it was just her time."
Suggestion: Read Spencer W. Kimball's enlightening talk, "Tragedy or Destiny?"  

A Lesson for Parents --- From a Dance Class

Many folks my age regret the fact that only now, when our children are grown and gone, are we learning valuable principles that could have helped us be better parents when they were small. For me, one of these is the principle of agency. Instead of reasoning with children and helping them understand the "why" behind certain expected behaviors, I probably did too much ordering the children around.

A few days ago I was reminded of this kind of behavior as I was walking through the parking lot at Home Depot. A man was beginning to load some items into the back of his SUV. His wife was standing alongside with a boy of about three. The boy began walking around the rear of the vehicle, and the mother erupted, "GET OVER HERE!" and yanked on his arm. The boy began crying, and she continued to yell at him. It might have been different if she'd taken a moment to gently take him by the arm and point to the possible dangers of either getting in the way of his father or being hit by another car.

Understanding a child's perspective can help us avoid a lot of unpleasant situations, as in this story told by Gerald Lund at a seminar I attended at BYU in the summer of 1986:

When I was a junior in high school, our teachers held a dance as part of gym. I did not dance. I am not saying I did not like to dance. I did not dance. The reason was that I was deathly afraid of stepping on the girl's toes and making a fool of myself because I did not know how to dance. So during the dance I took my chemistry book and went to the top row of the bleachers and started studying chemistry.

About halfway through the dance, they announced a girls' choice, at which point I promptly buried my head deeper in my book. Then I heard footsteps coming up the bleachers. I can remember refusing to look up and thinking, Oh, no! Don't do this to me! But finally there were a pair of legs and a skirt standing before me. I looked up, and she said, "Jerry, would you dance with me?"

I said, "I'm sorry, but I just can't."

Well, you can imagine how she felt. She turned around and started down the bleachers. At this point, the girls' gym teacher, who had been watching the whole thing, came over and took her by the hand. Now the two of them were coming back up the bleachers. I knew this was not going to be pretty. The girls' gym teacher was also my math teacher, so she knew me. She said, "Jerry, this young lady has come all the way up these bleachers to ask you to dance. Now you're really not going to tell her no, are you?"

I said, "Yes, I am. I do not dance."

She said, "I know how you feel, but you can't tell this young lady no."

I said, "Oh yes, I can."

She said, "You won't tell this young lady no."

I said, "Oh yes, I will."

She started to get angry and said, "You will dance with her."

I said, "No, I won't."

So she took the girl and down the bleachers they went. Of course, the girl was flaming red by now—and as I think of this now, I cringe to think of what it must have meant for her. But I was so wrapped up in my own worry and low self-esteem, I could think of nothing but myself.

I watched the sequence of events that followed from my perch. The teacher dropped the girl off at the bottom of the bleachers and went straight across the gym floor to the coach, who was also my gym teacher. He looked up; she talked; he looked up again. He motioned to me to come down, and I shook my head no. It was at that point that he decided to teach without mildness and meekness.

The coach turned the record player off, went to the microphone, and said, "Could I have your attention, please." The gym immediately quieted down. "Sandra," he said, "has just walked all the way up to the top of the bleachers to ask Jerry Lund to dance. Jerry Lund has said no. How do you feel about that?"

Well, you know what the kids did. "Hey, Jerry," they shouted. "Come on!"

I just shook my head, and then my coach, who was very famous for his temper, got angry. He said, over the microphone, "You will be off those bleachers in thirty seconds or you will take an F in this class." And I said, "Coach, flunk away!"

I took an F in gym that term. You see, I would rather have taken the F than face the pain of being a fool. And when the coach backed me into a corner, there was no way I was going to come out.

Now let me tell you the sequel to that story. Remember, at the time I was a junior in high school. Time passed. I graduated from high school, spent six months in the service, went on a mission, and then attended BYU, where I met a young lady named Lynn. She loved to dance! And guess who ended up taking a dance class? We actually made a trade. I loved to play tennis; she loved to dance. So I took a dance class; she took a tennis class. I learned to dance and even reached the point where I enjoyed dancing.

I have thought of that often. How many times do we try to back people into a corner and force them to do what they ought to be doing? I knew what I ought to do. I did not want to hurt that girl in the least, but my pain was more important to me than her pain. The coach tried to ensure my cooperation through force, coercion, peer pressure, and an attempt to shame me. If he had just loved me enough to try to understand me, maybe great things would have happened. ("Strengthening the Bridges," in Selected Writings of Gerald N. Lund).

In a separate article Gerald Lund wrote this: "I once heard Elder Henry B. Eyring give a wonderful talk about teaching with the Spirit. He began his address with a story that just hit me like a sword in the heart. He mentioned a mission president who is a good friend of his. He said as they were talking he had asked the mission president how to better prepare a boy for a mission. He was expecting the mission president to mention that one should teach a boy how to work, teach him to love the scriptures, and so forth. The mission president instead told him that many missionaries come into the mission field not knowing they are accepted and loved and worthwhile, particularly by their fathers.

"I thought about my son, fifteen years old, who is a good boy. He does his priesthood duty without me prodding him. He goes to church. When he goes out at night I don't worry about what he is doing. And yet I am constantly on his back. Why? Because he is not doing the little things I want him to get better at. And it occurred to me that I have never said to him, 'We really love you and appreciate you.'"

Sounds too much like me.

Resolution

A thought for the New Year:

"Bad will be the day for every man when he becomes absolutely contented with the life that he is living, with the thoughts that he is thinking, with the deeds that he is doing; when there is not forever beating at the doors of his soul some great desire to do something larger, which he knows that he was meant and made to do -- because he is still, in spite of it all, the child of God" (attributed to Phillipe Brooks).

God has sent you and me here for a purpose . . . much remains to be done . . . and renewed is my resolve to find out what it is . . . and to do it.