Conference Thoughts, April 2019 - Part 1

I made this for someone on Twitter
So, it’s conference time again. I’ve had a hot and cold relationship with this blog, but right now I’m warming up, and I think I want to express some things. Thoughts engendered by this General Conference and my preparations for it, in no particular order. Here goes.

Daily Repentance

I can’t tell you how happy it made me to hear President Nelson talk about this, especially since he quoted that scripture: “Say nothing but repentance unto this generation…” (D&C 6:9). I’ve long cherished that verse, and it comes to me every time I’m called on to give a talk, no matter the topic.
I one-hundred percent believe in the principle of daily repentance. It is the lifeblood of spiritual growth, not to mention an important self-care practice. Repentance allows us to free ourselves of blockages, including guilt, shame, fear, and grudges. I say grudges because true repentance requires faith in God’s promise of forgiveness, and when we believe ourselves to be forgiven of repented sin, we also open our hearts to forgiving others. It’s just a natural outgrowth of repentance, when it’s real.
It’s possible to think we’re repenting and come away with a sense of self-righteousness, but this should be a red flag. Repentance that leads us to pride isn’t real repentance, it’s self-justification, which is  really the opposite thing. To repent is to admit you were wrong — that there is no justification for what you’ve been doing — and change to become more like God. It’s a process that leads us to become humble and grateful for the grace of God in our lives, and this is not a feeling that allows us to hold ourselves above others. So we start to release the ill will we’ve had towards our fellow children of God. It’s really a wonderful thing to experience: a miracle.
Of course, I think it can also work the other direction. We forgive others, and that leads us to repent. Any enlarging of the heart will point us toward both repentance and forgiveness.
Incidentally, this concept is why I haven’t changed the name of this blog. I’ve considered it many times, usually when I’m feeling like the name is just too simple,  or doesn’t mean anything to anyone. However, it means this to me. In the words a of a hymn:
“Come, let us anew, our journey pursue.”
And another:
“Ponder anew what the almighty can do.”
The word “anew” carries the sense of refreshing, beginning again, hoping. It means repentance. I like it because that’s my daily goal.

Do your best

I struggle with this teaching, which came up during a talk on Saturday. Honestly, I find Jesus’s commandment, “Be ye therefore perfect” to be inspiring. I know for a lot of people it’s more intimidating or overwhelming, and the expectation it sets can lead to depression, which is a real and serious problem. There have been so many talks from general authorities about how that commandment isn’t meant to be fulfilled in this life, and what God really wants is for us to do our best. It frustrates me, because I want to be perfect.
Oh, I don’t expect to actually become perfect before I die, but I worship a perfect God, who I want to eventually become like. Perfection is my ideal, and it’s one that motivates me. I don’t mean in an unhealthy, perfectionist way, either. I know I'll fail at being perfect, and I’m fine with that, but I also believe that by having perfection as my goal, my efforts will be higher, holier, and more acceptable to God than they would have been otherwise. I expect to fail, but to be sanctified in the process. Talks that tell me not to worry about perfection take that away from me.
When my only goal is to do my best, or even when it’s to do better than I did the last time, I’m left with a much lower standard. This means my mindset about what to do is limited to what I, as a flawed mortal being, am capable of. I’m not thinking as much about God having a hand in things. I reach less for divine grace and trust more in myself.
On top of that, doing my best leaves me riddled with self-doubt. Was that really my best? Shouldn’t I be capable of more? Wasn’t there a moment when I knew I should try harder, but didn’t? Doesn’t that mean I failed? Failing to be perfect is human and forgivable, and the results can still be inspiring. Failing to do your best feels harder to respect.
What happens then is I introduce platitudes like “oh, well, it may not be my all-time best, but it was the best I had to give today.” And that further lowers the standard while also making that lowering somehow seem charitable, and that leads me right back to self-justification, which makes me defensive about my performance, and that often manifests as self-righteousness: a sin of which Latter-day Saints are frequently accused. Maybe this is part of why.
What I realized during this conference is that my struggle with my “best” may really be the same thing as a lot of other people’s struggles with perfection. It might mostly be a semantic difference. I reach for perfection, which I know I won’t attain and so I rely on God’s grace to get me as close as possible. My best is something I can never achieve because I’m human, and I always fail, but because it’s MY best and not God’s perfection, my failure to achieve it causes despair. You, on the other hand, might despair at reaching perfection for the same reason: you think you have to get there on your own. So instead, you just do your best, trusting God’s grace to make as much of that best as possible. It’s a question of which paradigm you prefer.
That was a revelation to me.
Oxes and Mires
Elder Holland, as usual, gave a marvelous talk full of empathy and hope. Also as usual, he used some highly memorable phraseology. Speaking of church attendance, he encouraged punctuality, but acknowledged that some were lucky to make it at all, and others would inevitably find their metaphorical oxen in equally metaphorical mires from time to time. However, he said, “if the ox is in the mire every Sunday, then we strongly recommend that you sell the ox or fill the mire."
Naturally this got a good laugh, and immediately started circulating on social media. That’s when the trouble started. A lot of people were quoting the whole line, but some reduced it just to the pithy part: “sell the ox or fill the mire.” These words were memorialized with all the power of kitschy internet picture quotes, which are a thing Mormon culture seems to love for some reason. What will happen, I feel sure, is that myriad future sacrament meeting talks on the sacrament or the Sabbath will reference this quote in its truncated form, and the first part — the part that gives context — will be forgotten.
Context is critical. These words were an admonition to those who continually find excuses for sloth when it comes to church attendance, specifically those who wrest the ox and mire scripture in order to rationalize their behavior. They are not words for the saint who is sincerely trying but failing, or for the one who is late or absent through legitimate extenuating circumstances. But, bereft of context, that wonderfully witty phrase could easily be used to browbeat anyone unrighteously judged to be too absent or too late.
I’m afraid we do this kind of thing all the time, undermining both our own discipleship and others’ belonging through the misapplication of a well-taught truth, and it’s particularly heartbreaking to see it done with the words of someone as consistently charitable and conscientious in his application of scripture as Elder Holland is.

Look for part 2 sometime in the next few days.

Comments

Cameron said…
Thanks for sharing your insights, Adam. I agree with you on perfection vs “doing your best,” in either case I think we still learn to deal with failure so why not shoot for the divine? Looking forward to Part 2.

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