Seeing Through A Stone

To me, the Church's release of photographs of one of Joseph's seer stones falls under the category of only "mildly interesting." But thinking about that and hearing others' thoughts about it has coalesced some rather unrelated thoughts.

Ordain Women, Midsingles, and the Trouble with Agency

Have you ever wondered why a third of the hosts of heaven left God to follow Satan? I have. I've spent hours of time wondering why, when presented with God's eternal Plan, some shouted for joy, and others left the service of God forever. When I was younger, I couldn't comprehend it. How could someone, faced with the prospective glories of exaltation, simply leave them behind? As an adult, I'm starting to understand.

We often talk about the Celestial Kingdom as if it is heaven, and everything else is a version of Hell. We Mormons haven't really left our Protestant ideas of glory or punishment behind. We act as though, by following the commandments and doing all that we have been commanded to the best of our abilities, we will be justified by our sacrifices, forgiven by Christ, and enter into the Father's presence. But it doesn't work like that.

"It's Personal"

Like everyone who wants to do better, be better, I sometimes struggle with my relationship with divinity. I have been amply blessed in a myriad little ways. Nothing major, until recently, but repeated small nudges to say something or check on something that ended up saving me just enough to keep me sane. Some days, it has felt like I'm barely holding on with torn and bloody fingernails, but have been touched with just enough extra energy to keep holding on. It is like I'm part of a vast chorus where, hoarse and broken, my voice does far more to create dissonance than beauty.

Recently, the hand of the Lord has been much more obvious. For the last month or so, I have been attending a ward temporarily while I am in transition from one house to another. This ward has several women who are going through divorce. As I've learned of them, and heard some of them speak, I felt prompted to bear my testimony in Fast and Testimony meeting.

This was a difficult proposition because my testimony, as I have said before, is not smooth and pretty, cut to show light and sparkle. It is cracked, crazed, with deep inclusions. It's a bit off-color. The deliverance I've prayed for over the last several years has been slow in coming. Most days are beautiful, but I still sometimes crack under certain types of pressure which I feel ought to be long gone. I'm still triggered, sometimes, over silly things.

I've been in a liminal state for some time, but it is a liminal state where I feel unseen things are happening, that I am being pruned and developed for some specific purpose. I am changing in ways I can't quite see, let alone quantify. I have started several drafts for blog posts but never finished them. I find myself with few comments to make on others' posts. Whatever changes I'm going through don't fit labels easily. I am becoming, but I'm not becoming anything.

The "Frozen" Bandwagon; Whereon Sitting, Our Bums Get Cold

A flurry of criticisms, cross-criticisms, and reasoned posts about the movie Frozen have been spinning around like a swirling storm in the wake of the movie's acclaim. This movie deeply disappointed me, not because of any hidden agenda or scary subtext, but because it wasn't enough. The plot was 100% predictable, I knew exactly what was going to happen before it did, and with such a stunning playground of deep relationships to utilize, it lived far below its potential. (Note: my prediction for the next step is a sequel about Anna's marriage and a love interest for Elsa, which will only ruin it more.)

And yet, despite my disappointment in the outcome, there are a few places that the glorious potential of the storyline peeks out, just to show us what we're missing. I don't want to harp on the disappointing parts, I want to explore that great part, and maybe contradict some of the concerns.

Empathy, Sympathy and Pain

This video is an amazing explanation for some of the things I've been trying to get at in my recent posts about sharing pain, and not being ashamed of it. I love it when I can find someone who says what is in my heart better than I can. The website is here.

They Shall Not Sorrow

Conference brought me peace, but it was not so for everyone. I intended, at one point, to write my perspective on several of the events surrounding Conference, and the applicable talks, but as I have watched discussions and listened, my heart was moved. I feel it doesn't matter how I see a fellow sister or brother in the Gospel erring, nor how I perceive that they have been deceived. What matters most right now is that they hurt and mourn.

I do not really share that mourning, though I believe I understand it. I have been burned by unrighteous male authority many times, myself. I have struggled with some of these same issues for nearly two decades. My journey through those struggles has been far different, but not so different that I cannot feel compassion. And what touches my heart more than the errors of those who find themselves feeling at odds with the Church leadership is the rush to harm them by people who ought to be most filled with the compassion of the Savior.

There are enough people telling others they are wrong. We need more people focused on hearts and tender feelings, offering sympathy and love.

A Turbulent Heart

“The heart has reasons that reason cannot know.” —Blaise Pascall

There are times in a person's life when she is presented with opportunities to look at herself and find herself wanting. I am naturally very hard on myself. Growing up, I somehow learned that my worth was directly linked to perfection. It seems that relationships are the greatest of these opportunities.

Several years ago, I had the opportunity to live with my sister after her graduation from high school. We had not been the best of friends growing up. She was favored, and I was a truculent and sullen child. We did not have the enmity that many siblings cultivate, but we were jealous of each other for different reasons. I like to think that in the course of living together, and the trouble that we both experienced at the time, we learned to forgive and accept each other and ourselves a little bit more.

When I served my mission, I had close relationships with a few of my companions. One in particular, I think of as a sister. We had very similar outlooks on missionary work, and life in general. We both hated mushrooms (a good basis for any lasting friendship.) Most of all, she gave me confidence in myself and my unique brand of missionary work, which did not mesh well with the general missionary structure. Her influence started my feet down a long path which would eventually lead to me forgiving myself of my faults, no small task.

Pure Religion

I have been pondering the next step in my discipleship for some time. Now that my healing is as complete as I can expect it to be in this stage of my life, I feel a tender, growing urge to be for others what the Savior and others were for me when I needed it. In studying the scriptures, it is undeniable that the purpose of every disciple of Christ is to serve His children. But I have a problem. I'm a deeply selfish, self-centered person.

The Fifth Day: The Book of Mormon

"On the fifth day of Christmas,
my true love gave to me
five golden rings."

I don’t often bear testimony of the Book of Mormon because we members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints often bear testimony of little else. But I am so thankful for the Book of Mormon. There is no end to the stories I could tell about how the words and meanings in that book have supported me.

I love the Bible, and the Doctrine and Covenants. But there is something about the Book of Mormon and the stories of the people that lived then which calls to me. They seem more personal, somehow. Often, the Bible seems to moralize, every story has a purpose. Even the D&C often has a specific point to each revelation. But the Book of Mormon is about life, about the principles of the gospel in the rough and stark lives of the people.

A Divine Characteristic: Patience

I have come to painful realization of yet another personal character flaw. You see, over the past several years, I thought I was learning to be more patient. Much to my chagrin, I have lately come to see that what I thought of as patience was only a different coping mechanism, and not development of a divine trait at all.

Can you imagine what it would be like to be God? To have infinite love for an infinite group of people more or less bent on destroying themselves? That sounds nothing like heaven to me. So how does He do it? How does He wait patiently for us to learn the things He already knows, lessons which hurt us needlessly, hurt others immensely, and leave us miserable in a lifetime that was meant for joy?

So Calm and Collected

Generally, we wander around in a state of unilateral self-perception, but every once in a while you get a glimpse into how other people see you. Last Sunday, the Relief Society teacher asked for stories of when someone was there for us when we needed them. This has only really happened once in my life, as I generally make a point of independence. When I shared it, I blinked back the tears (the real feminine curse!) to see a look of mild shock on her face. "You are always so self-possessed, so calm and collected. It goes to show how important it is for us to be there for the one in the crowd. . . ." and she turned the lesson back to the topic.

I was rather confused. My life has been in a state of mild to severe chaos since moving into this ward. I have felt anything but calm and collected. I thought for sure my distress was embarrassingly evident. Although I see myself as a consummate actress on the stage of life, I thought my persona had completely shattered along with my life's dreams not so long ago. Apparently, I was wrong.

I mention this not solely for the purpose of public self-reflection, but also to show how vital it is to develop empathy. I have always been hyper-aware of others' feelings, almost to the point of catatonia when I have upset someone. (Hence the great acting abilities. I learned to carry on the semblance of normal life when I'm panicking inside.) Almost in defense, I have become quite the opposite—a person unable to show my concern or to comfort those in need of comfort. I feel awkward and inept when faced with the need to empathize, precisely because I feel too much.

Despite being so unskilled, I know it is vital for me to use this gift of the Spirit. I need to open myself to fear, pain and panic in order to make of myself a place where the beloved of the Lord might dwell in safety. This, I believe, is the core of the gospel. This is what it all means.

Christ suffered unimaginable pain to give us comfort. He has been my haven countless times, when there was no one else to turn to. It is the least we can do to emulate Him as much as we are able. All things in the gospel point to this. When we do missionary work, we must do it through embarrassment and pain because we love and wish to bless. When we go to Church, we do it to bless despite the possible discomfort of not feeling that sense of belonging. When we struggle with certain aspects of policy and doctrine, we turn our fears and hearts to the Lord, despite the terror this action may inspire. Faith in Christ, hope, repentance, sharing the Gospel, temple work, paying tithing, obeying the word of wisdom, all aspects of the Gospel must be centered around this charity.

Perhaps, when we learn this great lesson, we will be opened to the further light and knowledge we long for. Perhaps we shall be able to understand the power in the Priesthood. Perhaps we shall be like Him. And, perhaps, we will be able to see through the veneer of self-possession on others, and see clearly to their hearts.

And, then, we can be there for them when they need us.

Angry at Myself

I guess this shows that progress can often be two steps forward and one step back. After having spent several weeks doing much better on blogs, not getting involved in any pointless disagreements, I find myself once again embroiled in a discussion I wish I had never entered.

How is it that something that begins as an attempt to have a gentle discussion so quickly becomes highly emotional? How is it that I move from discussion to feeling defensive so quickly? Perhaps it is once again time to adopt a more strict commenting policy for myself. I get indescribably frustrated with myself when I try to communicate with caring and fail so spectacularly.

Am I also the only one who gets into a discussion and tries to empathize with the other's viewpoint to the point where I get confused and unable to articulate?