holds upon happiness

“What beautiful hyacinths! I have just learnt to love a hyacinth.”

“And how might you learn? By accident or argument?”

“Your sister taught me; I cannot tell how. Mrs. Allen used to take pains, year after year, to make me like them; but I never could, till I saw them the other day in Milsom Street; I am naturally indifferent about flowers.”

“But now you love a hyacinth. So much the better. You have gained a new source of enjoyment, and it is well to have as many holds upon happiness as possible."

--Catherine Morland and Henry Tilney in Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey

Some things that I love doing are . . .

Having tea time with my roommate Michelle and anyone else who decides to join us.

Cleaning a room.

Eating chocolate. Or ice cream. Or guacamole with lime chips. Or salsa with lime chips. Or Thai food. Food brings me lots and lots of happiness.

Teaching at BYU.

Meeting with students to discuss their concerns about class and life.

Reading. I've long loved reading novels, but recent years have taught me to love reading poetry, compositional and rheotrical theory, nonfiction, and the news (especially opinion pieces).

Listening to NPR, the Mormon Channel, and other podcasts.

Sitting outside in the hour before sunset.

Being awake in the still of the early morning.

Talking with my family.

Sitting in the Celestial Room of any temple.

Emailing and receiving emails from my family (oh those delightful family email chains . . . ).

Visiting cemeteries. (I learned this one over the summer while visiting cemeteries in Massachusetts, Europe, and small Utah towns. Thanks, Sam.)

Writing journal entries, lists, thank you notes, blog posts, and, yes, even assignment sheets.

Getting absorbed in a meaningful conversation.

Laughing with good friends.

Listening in on strangers' conversations.

Browsing through books in a bookstore, touching the spines and feeling the pages, hmmming and smiling over the excerpts I read.

To me, each of these things is about an experience of calm. All of them cause me to slow down and reflect on how rich and good my life actually is and how kind and wonderful the people are around me really are and how numerous and personal my gifts from God have been. And maybe that's what happiness is? The experience of stopping to see the reality of the good God has woven into your life?

This e. e. cummings' poem captures my gratitude for these experiences well:

i thank You God for most this amazing 

day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees 

and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything 

which is natural which is infinite which is yes 

Yes.

a furious wind

In my scripture study today, I read in Ether 6 and the following verses stood out in a way they haven't before:

5 And it came to pass that the Lord God caused that there should be a furious wind blow upon the face of the waters, towards the promised land; and thus they were tossed upon the waves of the sea before the wind.
 6 And it came to pass that they were many times buried in the depths of the sea, because of the mountain waves which broke upon them, and also the great and terrible tempests which were caused by the fierceness of the wind.
 7 And it came to pass that when they were buried in the deep there was no water that could hurt them, their vessels being tight like unto a dish, and also they were tight like unto the ark of Noah; therefore when they were encompassed about by many waters they did cry unto the Lord, and he did bring them forth again upon the top of the waters.
 8 And it came to pass that the wind did never cease to blow towards the promised land while they were upon the waters; and thus they were driven forth before the wind.
 9 And they did sing praises unto the Lord; yea, the brother of Jared did sing praises unto the Lord, and he did thank and praise the Lord all the day long; and when the night came, they did not cease to praise the Lord.
 10 And thus they were driven forth; and no monster of the sea could break them, neither whale that could mar them; and they did have light continually, whether it was above the water or under the water. (emphasis added)

 As I read this, it struck me that the wind is described as "furious" and "fierce"--how uncomfortable it must have been in those barges, being pushed by the wind and tossed and turned in the waves. And yet, it is the very furiousness of the wind that takes them towards the promised land and takes them there more quickly. We can think of our trials as being like this--they don't need to be obstacles that block us from arriving at our destination (although I think they can be obstacles depending on how we react to them). Instead of obstacles, trials and difficulties can be the very means of arriving at our destination. If our goal in mortality is to become like God--to follow Christ's example and emulate his attributes--then what better way to arrive than experience tempests and difficulties that test our patience, brotherly kindness, humility, and other Christlike attributes?

I'm also impressed by the fact that, despite the furious wind, these people were protected--no water could hurt them, no monster of the sea could break them, neither whale could mar them. Instead, they had light continually. As a result of preparing for their journey, these people were ready to meet the storms. God gave them a secure ship and light to live by.

He gives me the same.

charity, self-esteem, and shared identity

Recently, I read Falling to Heaven by James L. Farrell. I've previously read Farrell's The Peacegiver and The Holy Secret. I'm always impressed by his insights into the gospel. Most of what he writes is so common sense and it's all scripturally based, but some of the insights still take me by surprise.

In the introduction (or is it the first chapter?) of Falling to Heaven, Farrell makes a point that has fundamentally changed the way I think about charity. He shares an experience about sitting in a sacrament meeting talk one day where the speaker was emphasizing the importance of loving ourselves. He asked himself where in the scriptures we are encouraged to love ourselves. He also spent a lot of time post-hearing-this-talk looking for references in the scriptures to Christ's self-love.

He couldn't find any.

The only scripture he found that could be read as referring to self-love was the oft-repeated commandment to love others as we love ourselves (the implication being that we must love ourselves if we're going to love others). Farrell suggests that Christ wasn't at all concerned with loving himself, but only with loving His Father and with loving us. When the scriptures talk about loving others as we love ourselves, it's referring to the fact that we must see others' pain as our own and celebrate others' accomplishments as our own--not that we need to focus on self-love. In other words, we need to seek to be so unified with the people around us--have our hearts knit together so closely with theirs--that there isn't a difference between what happens to them and what happens to us. This is what God's love for us is about: He fully experiences our pain as His own pain. His sense of self is broad enough to include all others--it looks outward, not inward.

Now, being the rhetoric nerd that I am, this concept immediately brought to mind Kenneth Burke's concept of identification. Burke writes that identification is about seeing what is alike between yourself and another person or an entire group of people. There is one major obstacle to identification, however, according to Burke: “[A]lthough I as a person may sympathetically identify myself with other people’s pleasures and pains, in my nature as a sheer body the pleasures of my food and the pains of my toothache are experienced by me alone” ("The Rhetorical Situation," Communication: Ethical and Moral Issues, 265-66). Because we inhabit separate bodies, we can't fully identify with one another. This is one of challenges of living in mortality in a physical body.

But the miracle of the Atonement is that one separate, individual body (the body of Christ) was able to fully inhabit and experience the separate, individual pains of billions of people. Christ bridged the gap of the inability of one body to connect with another body. He is one with the Father and Holy Ghost, and He can be one with us, as he prayed for in his intercessory prayer, if we will follow His example and receive His love.

How do we receive? I think we have to be willing to love as He did. We have to live the two great commandments. We have to lose ourselves in loving and serving God and others in order to find ourselves. This is why Moroni writes so urgently that we need to pray with all energy of heart for the love of Christ. Charity helps us to find better versions of ourselves. In loving others and following Christ, we become the children of Christ--part of his family. We take upon ourselves His identity--quite literally: we take upon ourselves His name--and in so doing we become one with Him and the Father. It's this perfect and complete connection with God and those around us that constitutes true charity. It's also what I believe heaven will be all about.

power, love, and a sound mind

I've been pondering lately on this scripture found in 2 Timothy 1:7: "For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind."

I find this scripture comforting because it reminds me that when I'm afraid to move forward in my life or I'm stressed over trials I'm experiencing, the fear I feel can't come from God. God is love and perfect love casteth out all fear.

I'm a worrier. If you know me at all, you've probably picked up on this trait of mine. One of the things I worry most about is figuring out what to do with my life--on a day-to-day, year-to-year, and even decade-to-decade basis. I keep trying to map things out so I know where I'll be, or where I should be, in five or ten years--or at least tomorrow. I'm not an obsessive planner (in fact, although I keep a planner, I often forget to look at it), but I just like to feel secure--to know what's coming--to be able to picture where life is headed.

Unfortunately, I've long been in a stage of life where you can't really count on how things will go. I still try, however. This often leads me to pray and ponder about the next step in my life and frequently second guess whether my impressions are from the Spirit or from my own head. I'm afraid of missteps and mistakes. But God in recent months has been trying to teach me to be more flexible and more trusting.

This scripture reminds me that my fear and my worry can't have their source in God, so what I imagine are spiritual warnings and premonitions about what will go wrong are really my own worries demanding to be front and center. In contrast to this, God works through power, love, and a sound mind. And I find these things come more plentifully into my life when I stop trying to see ahead--when I allow one step to be enough for me.

Power, love, and a sound mind are most available in present moments. God isn't always willing to tell me whether or not I'll get into PhD programs or when I'll have a family, but He is always willing to tell me what to do with this moment--how to act in the next hour, or the next minute. Of course He wants me to act for myself and He mercifully doesn't direct every action and every decision (how would we learn to act for ourselves and not be acted upon?), but He will, if I let Him, guide me to where I need to be when I need to be there. He'll give me the strength to teach one class, the ability to help one student, and the love to be patient and listening when I want to be selfish and talking. He'll always help me know that I can do for people around me, even if the direction of my own life isn't yet clear. He's willing to give me the power, love, and soundness of mind to act in His service and to become a little more like Him.

And that's enough to take the fear and worry away in the present.

a blue true dream of sky

i thank You God for most this amazing 
by e. e. cummings

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)


This poem makes me so happy. I've just about memorized it simply from reading it over and over again in the past few weeks. It's the perfect poem for all this spring weather, and it reminds me of how lovely things really are. Enjoy.

what changes us

"Souls are made sweet not by taking the acid fluids out, but by putting something in—a great Love, a new Spirit, the Spirit of Christ. Christ, the Spirit of Christ, interpenetrating ours, sweetens, purifies, transforms all. This only can eradicate what is wrong, work a chemical change, renovate and regenerate, and rehabilitate the inner man. Will-power does not change men. Time does not change men. 

CHRIST DOES."

Today, I read a sermon called "The Greatest Thing in the World," written by Henry Drummond and published first, I think, in 1891. Although the whole sermon is worth reading, I was most struck by the quote above. In recent months, I've been spending a lot of time trying to get things done by will power alone. I make all kinds of determinations about what I'm going to accomplish and what habits I'm going to change and how I'm going to have a good attitude about it all and . . . nothing changes. I determine and determine and I don't make much progress. I think my problem comes in not recognizing the truth expressed above.

This quote from the sermon comes in a section on how maintaining a good temper is part of love. Immediately before this quote, Drummond describes the dangers of doing right and feeling wrong: "[Temper]," he writes, "is the intermittent fever which bespeaks unintermittent disease within; the occasional bubble escaping to the surface which betrays some rottenness underneath; a sample of the most hidden products of the soul dropped involuntarily when off one's guard; in a word, the lightning form of a hundred hideous and un-Christian sins. A want of patience, a want of kindness, a want of generosity, a want of courtesy, a want of unselfishness, are all instantaneously symbolized in one flash of Temper."

I think this something I'm afraid of--that my outward attempts at goodness aren't penetrating what's inside. That I'm not changing because there is rottenness underneath--and you can't just cover it up. You've got to root it out.

It's not enough to just try to make our outward actions match our ideals--our hearts have to be right on the inside. Drummond's description of the rottenness bubbling underneath reminds me of C. Terry Warner's ideas in Bonds That Make Us Free. Often, we act (self-)righteously and congratulate ourselves on our good behavior and long-suffering when inside our hearts we are at war with those around us. I recognize my own tendencies to fall into this trap of self-justification. The only thing is that recognition alone doesn't solve the problem.

I recognize where I go wrong, and then I become overwhelmed by the sheer number of things I need to fix about myself. Drummond's sermon could have sent me spiraling back into a cycle of guilt and frustration, but the quote at the top of this page prevents that from happening. "Will-power does not change men. Time does not change men. CHRIST DOES." I recognize the wrong inside me and that leads me to want to change, but the key here is that I can't change myself. The burden of guilt and feeling of being convicted that I sometimes feel lifts when I accept this truth: "Will-power does not change men. Time does not change men. CHRIST DOES."

This is why all my best resolutions over the past few months have failed: I've been trying to change things about me while utilizing only my own will power. Reading Drummond's sermon today showed me that I can make determinations all I like, but until I turn the process of change over to Christ, I won't make any progress. I have to be willing, but my will-power won't change me. I have to give Him time, but time won't change me.

Christ will change me.

I find that thought so comforting and relieving. I can leave it up to Him to do His work of changing, and I can stop worrying so much about myself.

Forgetting to worry about myself in turn allows me to focus my attention outward: towards God and those around me. An outward focus leads me to love and this thing, love, Drummond concludes, is the greatest thing in the world. It's Christ's ability to change us that opens in us the capacity for love, the most Godlike quality of all. Said another way, it's the capacity for love, given to us by Christ, that changes us.

Patience and marshmallows

A Sunday afternoon with Madeleine L'Engle

Yesterday, I read Madeleine L'Engle's memoir, Two-Part Invention: The Story of a Marriage. I've had this book in my collection for nearly ten years, but this is the first time I've read it, and now I know what I've been missing. It's a thoughtful, spiritual book that explores some of the more difficult questions about suffering in this life--the kind of questions I wished we talked about more often in Sunday school. L'Engle's contemplation of marriage in this book reminded me of Stegner's in Crossing to Safety (another great book). My copy of the L'Engle book is now littered with post-it notes marking insights that struck me, like this one:

"As a human parent I have had to allow my children to make their own mistakes, to become free adults. I cannot rush in and correct every error in judgment, fix everything that goes wrong. Parents who attempt to do that usually end up with children who grow into emotional cripples. If we accept that we have at least an iota of free will, we cannot throw it back the moment things go wrong. Like a human parent, God will help us when we ask for help, but in a way that will make us more mature, more real, not in a way that will diminish us" (99).

I love this idea that even in the moments when God comes in to rescue or help us, He does so with His eternal purposes in mind. He won't deviate from what is best from us, and the reason for that is so that we can become more mature and more real. Perhaps this is why we sometimes feel like we're not being rescued--that we're being allowed to flounder--because God's goal is not to save us from pain, but to allow the pain to purify us until we're changed, inside and out--until we're more expansive as human beings, and not less so.

Potential

"We see ourselves in terms of yesterday and today. Our Heavenly Father sees us in terms of forever. Although we might settle for less, Heavenly Father won’t, for He sees us as the glorious beings we are capable of becoming."

--Joseph B. Wirthlin, "The Great Commandment"

The benefits of mindless work

These past few days at work, I've been doing a lot of copying, pasting, and editing--important but not very mindful work. In order to keep myself going, I've been listening to BYU devotionals from bygone years. And, I must say, this site is changing my life.

I've thoroughly enjoyed listening all of the Hollands' devotionals from the time with Elder Jeffrey R. Holland was president of BYU. I may post more on these later.

I even listened to a devotional today given by my thesis chair. Very good.

Another highlight, which I re-discovered today, was a devotional given by Arun Gandhi, grandson of Mahatma Gandhi.

You should probably listen to it right now. He tells some great stories about his grandfather.

Enjoy.

Good things to come

This video comes from one of my favorite talks by Elder Holland. My trainer gave me a copy of it on my mission, and I read it often. Enjoy.

Hannah . . . and waiting

Do you remember that really awkward EFY song from a few years ago (2007, I think)? The one called "And Waiting"? The one containing the tragic story of a fifteen-year-old girl who actually has to turn down a date to the senior prom because she's waiting till she turns sixteen to date like all good Mormon girls should? And the one with the story about the missionary waiting for his call? And how the girl and the missionary eventually get married and are so happy for "staying clean and waiting"?

(Disclaimer: My excuse for knowing about this song is that I was a missionary when it came out and the bishop's son went to EFY and gave us his CD. And when you're a missionary, you listen to EFY. The end.)

Well, this post isn't about that song. But it is about waiting. And it's kind of a serious post, so it seemed appropriate to start out with something that takes itself seriously--like a really cheesy EFY song.

Although some people have yet to realize this, there are actually more painful tests of faith than waiting for a mission call or a date. One such test, I think, is the wait to have a child--the trial of Sarah, Hannah, and Elizabeth in the Bible.

Yesterday in Sunday School, we read the story of Hannah almost in its entirety aloud together. It hit me in a way it never has before. I grew up on the story (my brother is named Samuel after Hannah's son, after all), but somehow, until yesterday, the details of Hannah's pain had escaped me.

First off, she is barren and is one of two plural wives in a culture where a woman's greatest contribution was the ability to bear children. The other wife, Peninnah, has many children and she mocks Hannah's barrenness "year by year" (1 Sam. 1:7)--to the point that Hannah weeps, doesn't eat, and is essentially inconsolable. When her husband asks, "Am I not better to thee than ten sons?" (verse 8), Hannah's unspoken answer is simply no. I'm sure she appreciated the blessing of a good husband, but even that blessing didn't make up for lacking what she wanted so intensely. Verse 9 reads: "And she was in bitterness of soul, and prayed unto the Lord, and wept sore."

This isn't the kind of spiritual desperation we typically talk about in Sunday School--which is unfortunate, in my opinion. Mostly, we focus on counting our blessings and being positive and covering up uncertainties. Some of these things are important, of course, but I believe it's also important to understand what to do in those times when we, like Hannah, feel inconsolable, despite our many blessings.

At times, I think each of us feels like Hannah--wondering if the Lord has forgotten us. On the surface, these type of feelings seem like doubts and some would say greater faith is the answer. In reality, I think these deep spiritual questions are the real tests that every person of faith will face at some point. If we never have a reason to question our faith in God, what good would it be to us? Hannah feels abandoned and that her prayers are unheard, and yet . . . she keeps praying. She hangs in there. She passes her test. The real test of faith comes when after years of righteous living and praying, we are often expected to continue to "hang in there" for a time without the reassurances and answers and blessings we feel we need.

A theme I'm fascinated with lately in gospel study is the concept of unanswered prayers. Why is it that God doesn't always grant good, even holy desires to His children?

I can't say that I have answers to this question, but Hannah's story certainly gives me insight into it. I was recently reading a great devotional talk about how the things in life that we think are taking us off course are actually the things leading us towards God's purpose for us in our lives (e.g. Joseph's time in Egypt and prison was less than fun until he realized that it led him to saving everyone else, including his own family, from starvation).

Hannah's long wait for a son led her finally to vow to give her son (if she had one) to God. Ironically, in order to have the blessing she wanted, she had to be immediately willing to give it up--to not have it. And her desperation and pain led her to that willingness and submission. As an adult, the prophet Samuel played a key role in Israelite history. If Hannah had been blessed with children as soon as she wanted them, would she have been willing to give up this son who needed to be given up in order to fulfill his mission?

My guess? Probably not. Peninnah had plenty of children, but (from all appearances) she showed no interest in serving God.

So, ultimately, all this waiting is not just waiting. It's the pathway to becoming who we want to be and, more importantly, who the Lord intends for us to be.

As President Uchtdorf said,

"There is an important concept here: patience is not passive resignation, nor is it failing to act because of our fears. Patience means active waiting and enduring. It means staying with something and doing all that we can—working, hoping, and exercising faith; bearing hardship with fortitude, even when the desires of our hearts are delayed. Patience is not simply enduring; it is enduring well!"

The enabling power of the Atonement

I was reading a great talk today by Elder David A. Bednar (which you can find here). The whole talk is good, but I especially loved this passage:

"Nephi is an example of one who knew and understood and relied upon the enabling power of the Savior. In 1 Nephi chapter 7 we recall that the sons of Lehi had returned to Jerusalem to enlist Ishmael and his household in their cause. Laman and others in the party traveling with Nephi from Jerusalem back to the wilderness rebelled, and Nephi exhorted his brethren to have faith in the Lord. It was at this point in their trip that Nephi's brothers bound him with cords and planned his destruction. Now please note Nephi's prayer in verse 17:

"'O Lord, according to my faith which is in thee, wilt thou deliver me from the hands of my brethren; yea, even give me strength that I may burst these bands with which I am bound' (emphasis added).

"Now brothers and sisters, do you know what I likely would have prayed for if I had been tied up by my brothers? My prayer would have included a request for something bad to happen to my brothers and ended with the phrase "wilt thou deliver me from the hands of my brethren" or, in other words, "Please get me out of this mess, NOW!" It is especially interesting to me that Nephi did not pray, as I probably would have prayed, to have his circumstances changed. Rather, he prayed for the strength to change his circumstances. And may I suggest that he prayed in this manner precisely because he knew and understood and had experienced the enabling power of the atonement of the Savior.

"I personally do not believe the bands with which Nephi was bound just magically fell from his hands and wrists. Rather, I suspect he was blessed with both persistence and personal strength beyond his natural capacity, that he then "in the strength of the Lord" (Mosiah 9:17) worked and twisted and tugged on the cords and ultimately and literally was enabled to break the bands.

"Brothers and sisters, the implication of this episode for each of us is quite straightforward. As you and I come to understand and employ the enabling power of the atonement in our personal lives, we will pray and seek for strength to change our circumstances rather than praying for our circumstances to be changed. We will become agents who act rather than objects that are acted upon (2 Nephi 2:14)."

I love the concept that God, instead of changing our circumstances (which He easily could do), more often gives us the strength to internally change and meet the challenges in our lives. Facing challenges allows us to develop the attributes we need to become like God and act for ourselves. If God simply removed our trials, we would not be able to become the people He wants us to become. We wouldn't become those people because, if everything were always easy and burdens were always lifted, we would have no need to display Christlike attributes like patience, temperance, and endurance. This is why prayers pleading for relief from trials sometimes go unanswered.

God wants us to develop the strength and character to overcome trials, not just the faith to pray for deliverance. This doesn't mean, however, that He leaves us to fight our way through mortality alone. Rather, He blesses us with the enabling power of Jesus Christ to give us the capacity to overcome our trials.

Good talk

"Remember Lot's Wife" by Elder Holland re-aired today on Channel 11. You can read, watch, or listen here.

Fairy tales

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf gave a really great talk in the Young Women's session of General Conference about once-upon-a-times and happily-ever-afters. I recommend watching it.

A particularly good insight from President Uchtdorf (or, as my niece would say, Presnent Uchdort)--

"It is your reaction to adversity, not the adversity itself, that determines how your life story will develop."