There's a song I heard once that I really didn't like. It was something like "God Loves Broken Things." I didn't like the tune, the word choices, or the way the guy sang.
But the song has stuck with me, even though I can't remember the tune or any of the words, and I still remember the feeling I had when I looked inside and realized that I was broken... and that was okay.
Broken can mean a lot of things. It's the feeling of abject despair when total and absolute depression sets in - the real kind they make medication for, but doesn't always respond, no matter what I try. It's the realization that all the work I've done over years can't open the doors I need to move forward, or yet another full batch of relationships gone wrong. Dreams shattered, life in oblivion, and an apathy towards reality that pulls me from society and pushes all but those closest to me away.
I used to feel like I had no right to be powerless, no right to be depressed, no right to be broken or despondent. The sheer reality that I was, made life even worse - a cycle that pulled me deeper and deeper, until I finally let go.
Being broken has some interesting physical correlations. When I run a gazillion miles, eventually my body runs out of energy completely. At least, in the moment, it feels that way. It's sudden, and, in an instant the simple act of walking or running or biking or whatever is like pushing through mud or molasses. From all outside respects, it looks like there's really no hope unless I go eat something with a whole lot of sugar. I'm broken. But, inside, opaque to my perspective, a miracle is happening. When my body runs out of energy in the form of glucose and glycogen, my muscles switch fuels. Glucose is replace with ketone, and proteins are broken down into emergency glucose for indispensable nervous functions. Even my brain switches. And, as soon as the adaptation is over, life moves on.
I feel like the Lord is often trying to teach me something when I hit the wall spiritually and emotionally. When I feel like I've been run over by a Mack truck, or like the world is going to cave in on me... because at those times, I'm forced to look at my life and refocus on the Lord. Sometimes the rope that I'm holding on to, hoping that it will pull me up, is friendship. Sometimes it's my own will. Sometimes it's just stubbornness.
But in most cases, the rope I was holding on to wasn't a rope that would ever pull me up. It would only pull me down... and when I learned to accept reality, to be okay with being broken, that gave the Lord a chance to help me see where I needed to change.
Right now I'm broken. Physically, emotionally, socially, professionally... I feel like everything is shattering around me in every facet I can dream. Every facet but one. I know God loves me, that I'm giving my best, and that, no matter what happens, He will be with me.
And maybe that's why I'm broken - so that I can learn to better rely on the Lord instead of everything else in my life. To help me see that, when nothing else can, He has the power to bring me from the depths and do more than just fix me. From the broken pieces of my life, He creates something better than before... if I'm willing to let Him. And then I move on, until it's time to be broken once again.
Showing posts with label Storms. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Storms. Show all posts
Saturday, March 10
Wednesday, November 16
Suicide
It happened again in music, again a song I hadn't heard before, sung by an acquaintance onstage. And again the lyrics echoed pain and sorrow, suffering and frustration. She belted it, and inside I realized that, to her, the song was just a song. Music with a catchy beat and rhyming words, not a glimpse into the reality that stalks people who stand by us today and may not tomorrow.
The topic showed up in the news, was mentioned in conversations, and became a sudden centerpiece for discussions as people talked with me. It's not something I almost ever talk about... but it came up, over, and over, and over again. And so it's my topic now... and hopefully it will help someone here.
I used to want to die. For years I wanted to die. I felt alone, outcast, depressed, isolated, different, friendless, worthless, cursed, evil... and I felt like I had nothing good to offer the world. I believed, honestly, that while some people might have cared about me, they would truly be better off without me in their lives. They only cared because they cared about everyone... or because they had to... and if they really knew the true me, complete with sin and addiction and imperfections, even they would turn away.
Taking my own life was never an option, because I knew that it was wrong, it would devastate my family, and it would have eternal consequences (I think that was one of the most vital things I learned in Primary - suicide is a major sin that will keep you from salvation. That knowledge kept me alive. Really.). So I would curl up in a ball and cry and pray that somehow I wouldn't have to wake up in the morning and face the world again. I spent many nights simply crying for that... but it obviously never happened.
No one knew. Not my parents, or the people at school, or the people at Church, or even the people who tried to be closest to me. On the outside, I was perfect. Perfect in everything, happy, a shining example of whatever it was you needed an example for. But inside I was a wreck.
The only solace I ever found was in my personal relationship with God... but even that took time to develop, time to encourage, time to truly understand. Late at night, when the world was falling in on me and nothing could lift my hopes, I learned to turn to God and pour out my tears to Him... and He listened.
The Lord never came to me in person to dry my tears. He didn't send angels from Heaven. But every time I turned to Him and asked to know if He loved me, He found a way to tell me that He did. Sometimes it was in the wind, sometimes in the rain. Sometimes in the sun, or the clouds, or the scriptures, or a talk in Church or a message from someone in my life. No matter what has happened, I have always known that God loves me... and, for me, that makes living my life worthwhile. God loves me. He created me, and gave me everything I can't control to learn to be happy and grow to become the man He sees in me. And with Him at my side, I can do anything.
Today, suicide is still not an option. But it tugs at the back of my mind when days are dark and I wonder if I'm doing anything worthwhile, or if I'm ruining the Plan Father has for me.
To all of you who understand - who have felt pain and sorrow so intense that it seems better to give up - I share my love... and I say that you are important in the eyes of God and the eyes of the people in your life. You're important because once you smiled at the bus driver and it helped him to have a better day. You're important because you live by morals that others watch, silently and in the shadows, and because your example inspires them to change the world. You're important because people care about you, pray for you, think about you, and want you to be a greater part of their lives. And you're important because you have a story and a gift that only you have - a place in God's Plan to save His children and bring them happiness that no one else can ever fill... and that comes from your life, your struggles, your faith, your falterings, and your relationship with God. You are amazing, and you are a literal spirit child of the God of the Universe. He did not send you here to fail... which means that, no matter what has happened, He stands at your side, ready to help you move forward and find the hope and peace and happiness you need.
Hope is shining brightly on a cold November night
The moon is gone, the stars are dark, and yet there still is light
Because beneath the wind and through my pain a whisper sounds...
"My Son, I love you. And it will be alright."
A talk by Elder Ballard: Suicide: Some things we know, and some things we do not know.
Sunday, July 10
How the Wise Man Built His House Upon the Sand
I've known the parable of the wise man for a long time. But what happens when there is only sand for miles around?
About thirty years ago, the Mexico City Mexico Temple was announced. The general location was chosen, and then geological engineers revealed to the project managers that they had a problem. The location, was above a massive underground lake, and while the ground was level and firm today, over time it had shifted and caused buildings in Mexico City to warp and collapse - the same way sand does in the rain, albeit on a longer timescale.
As a symbol of perseverance, faith, and the literal House of the Lord, a temple couldn't be built on a sandy and insecure foundation that would cause it to eventually collapse. But instead of abandoning the project, the engineers turned to science, and to God.
There actually was bedrock deep down underneath the Mexican soil, but even if the temple were built on a foundation twenty feet thick, there was no way to ensure that the sand and water wouldn't shift over time and cause the building's eventual collapse. So the engineers decided that they would build a house on the rock - through the sand. They took foot-long 18-inch cylindrical concrete blocks (pylons) and pounded them into the soft ground, one after another, until they hit bedrock. And then they did it again, and again, and again. In 220 different places within the base of the temple they wanted to secure, they pounded the beams into the ground, with many going over 100 feet down before finding a solid foundation. 220 pylons x 100 feet x 1.5 ft diameter = 38877 cubic feet of concrete, weighing almost 6 million pounds. On top of those pylons, connecting the surface to the deep foundation and stability, architects and engineers then began to build the actual foundation of the temple.
In most people's lives, just like in most places of the world, there is bedrock somewhere to be easily found. They can rely on it when hard times come. But in some cases it seems completely absent. I've seen that in my life, especially when it comes to homosexuality, addiction, and everything else involved. For years I tried to hold on to everything I could, but it all seemed to wash away like sand at the beach. And the world would tell me that being a gay Mormon is impossible, that falling in love and getting married to a girl is impossible, that staying true to the gospel and true to myself and finding happiness is impossible. And, at face value, alone, their statements are true. But with God, all things are possible. Being surrounded by sand doesn't mean that I can give up on building a house, even though it has fallen down around me more times than I can count. It just means I need to look harder, and dig deeper, to find the strength, hope, happiness, and peace I need.
In my life, the pylons on which I build my temple are the little things. Tens of thousands of blocks of meaningful scripture study, prayer, serving others, and sharing the gospel. Blocks of faith and hope and doing everything I can for years and years... sometimes without seeming to see results. In each case with the Mexico temple, the blocks continued to go deeper and deeper, disappearing without a trace... until they hit bedrock and would not move... which meant that a key to the construction was patience - patience to continue digging down. Each block seemed worthless as it disappeared beneath the soil, but as they all locked in place, each block suddenly bore part of the weight of the foundation. It was all worth it. And it was worth the wait, because the engineers knew what I know - no matter where you build, or what you are building, one thing is sure. Dig deep enough, and you will always hit bedrock.
In some places along my foundation, I've found bedrock. In most of the others, I'm still digging. And it's okay to dig - to pound concrete into the desert sands of my life. Because as I finish each of the pylons and connect to the bedrock deep in the principles of the gospel, I lay the foundation for my own life and find the strength, hope, peace, and happiness that I need. In a house built on the rock, through the sand.
About thirty years ago, the Mexico City Mexico Temple was announced. The general location was chosen, and then geological engineers revealed to the project managers that they had a problem. The location, was above a massive underground lake, and while the ground was level and firm today, over time it had shifted and caused buildings in Mexico City to warp and collapse - the same way sand does in the rain, albeit on a longer timescale.
As a symbol of perseverance, faith, and the literal House of the Lord, a temple couldn't be built on a sandy and insecure foundation that would cause it to eventually collapse. But instead of abandoning the project, the engineers turned to science, and to God.
There actually was bedrock deep down underneath the Mexican soil, but even if the temple were built on a foundation twenty feet thick, there was no way to ensure that the sand and water wouldn't shift over time and cause the building's eventual collapse. So the engineers decided that they would build a house on the rock - through the sand. They took foot-long 18-inch cylindrical concrete blocks (pylons) and pounded them into the soft ground, one after another, until they hit bedrock. And then they did it again, and again, and again. In 220 different places within the base of the temple they wanted to secure, they pounded the beams into the ground, with many going over 100 feet down before finding a solid foundation. 220 pylons x 100 feet x 1.5 ft diameter = 38877 cubic feet of concrete, weighing almost 6 million pounds. On top of those pylons, connecting the surface to the deep foundation and stability, architects and engineers then began to build the actual foundation of the temple.
In most people's lives, just like in most places of the world, there is bedrock somewhere to be easily found. They can rely on it when hard times come. But in some cases it seems completely absent. I've seen that in my life, especially when it comes to homosexuality, addiction, and everything else involved. For years I tried to hold on to everything I could, but it all seemed to wash away like sand at the beach. And the world would tell me that being a gay Mormon is impossible, that falling in love and getting married to a girl is impossible, that staying true to the gospel and true to myself and finding happiness is impossible. And, at face value, alone, their statements are true. But with God, all things are possible. Being surrounded by sand doesn't mean that I can give up on building a house, even though it has fallen down around me more times than I can count. It just means I need to look harder, and dig deeper, to find the strength, hope, happiness, and peace I need.
In my life, the pylons on which I build my temple are the little things. Tens of thousands of blocks of meaningful scripture study, prayer, serving others, and sharing the gospel. Blocks of faith and hope and doing everything I can for years and years... sometimes without seeming to see results. In each case with the Mexico temple, the blocks continued to go deeper and deeper, disappearing without a trace... until they hit bedrock and would not move... which meant that a key to the construction was patience - patience to continue digging down. Each block seemed worthless as it disappeared beneath the soil, but as they all locked in place, each block suddenly bore part of the weight of the foundation. It was all worth it. And it was worth the wait, because the engineers knew what I know - no matter where you build, or what you are building, one thing is sure. Dig deep enough, and you will always hit bedrock.
In some places along my foundation, I've found bedrock. In most of the others, I'm still digging. And it's okay to dig - to pound concrete into the desert sands of my life. Because as I finish each of the pylons and connect to the bedrock deep in the principles of the gospel, I lay the foundation for my own life and find the strength, hope, peace, and happiness that I need. In a house built on the rock, through the sand.
Wednesday, June 22
Meaning in Patience
Across the US, rain has drenched cities, causing massive flooding filling reservoirs beyond capacity. The cool, wet weather and late frosts prolonged spring into early June, and for a while the only things blooming were small, scraggly, but definitely green. Then, in a burst of prolonged sunlight, summer came... and with it a very unique set of circumstances.
Usually, spring gardens bloom in sequence. Crocuses, forget-me-nots, early daffodils and miniature tulips, larger tulips and apple blossoms, lilacs and day lilies and massive bearded irises. But this year, it didn't happen that way. The long, cloudy weather meant that, for months at a time, none were blooming... and then, all at an instant, everything bloomed at once. Irises in the same bed as crocuses, tulips, and daffodils - something I've never seen before. Roses backed by those same flowers, instead of being flocked by the green after-blooms of foliage. And when the day lilies finally bloom, with their blooming season they'll probably bloom until November.
I think that if I compare myself to a garden plot, it's pretty telling in my life. For most of my life, I would have given anything to be "normal" - to fit in to any group of people. Here on (Gay) Mormon Guy I only share a facet of my life; you can be sure that I'm probably the strangest person you've never met. I looked around and saw flowers blooming in everyone else's lives... everything going right, with no apparent difficulties on their parts. And my garden? Um. It's definitely green. I have a strong testimony and a faithful conviction of the truth. But the flowers and fruit that are in other gardens are conspicuously absent, and I'd really rather not be like the fig tree that Christ cursed when Summer was nigh.
Today, looking at gardens, I'm again realizing that the Lord always has a purpose in His designs. This year, a late spring and heavy rains left gardens bare of flowers and fruit... but only a few months later, those same conditions made summer gorgeous. I think the same thing is happening in my life. Maybe right now all my dreams are on hold. I don't have a wife, kids, and the love that I watch blossom around me. Those who don't know in my life are probably wondering what is taking so long. But someday it will happen. The flowers will bloom, summer will come, and all my dreams will come true. It won't be today, but I know that it will happen. The Lord has promised that every blessing will be given to the faithful in His own due time. And in the meantime I'm enjoying the rain.
Usually, spring gardens bloom in sequence. Crocuses, forget-me-nots, early daffodils and miniature tulips, larger tulips and apple blossoms, lilacs and day lilies and massive bearded irises. But this year, it didn't happen that way. The long, cloudy weather meant that, for months at a time, none were blooming... and then, all at an instant, everything bloomed at once. Irises in the same bed as crocuses, tulips, and daffodils - something I've never seen before. Roses backed by those same flowers, instead of being flocked by the green after-blooms of foliage. And when the day lilies finally bloom, with their blooming season they'll probably bloom until November.
I think that if I compare myself to a garden plot, it's pretty telling in my life. For most of my life, I would have given anything to be "normal" - to fit in to any group of people. Here on (Gay) Mormon Guy I only share a facet of my life; you can be sure that I'm probably the strangest person you've never met. I looked around and saw flowers blooming in everyone else's lives... everything going right, with no apparent difficulties on their parts. And my garden? Um. It's definitely green. I have a strong testimony and a faithful conviction of the truth. But the flowers and fruit that are in other gardens are conspicuously absent, and I'd really rather not be like the fig tree that Christ cursed when Summer was nigh.
Today, looking at gardens, I'm again realizing that the Lord always has a purpose in His designs. This year, a late spring and heavy rains left gardens bare of flowers and fruit... but only a few months later, those same conditions made summer gorgeous. I think the same thing is happening in my life. Maybe right now all my dreams are on hold. I don't have a wife, kids, and the love that I watch blossom around me. Those who don't know in my life are probably wondering what is taking so long. But someday it will happen. The flowers will bloom, summer will come, and all my dreams will come true. It won't be today, but I know that it will happen. The Lord has promised that every blessing will be given to the faithful in His own due time. And in the meantime I'm enjoying the rain.
Friday, April 15
For the Beauty of the Earth
"Where ships of purple gently float on seas of daffodil, fantastic sailors mingle. And then, the wharf is still" (Emily Dickinson).
Have I mentioned recently that life is spectacular? I love the way the sun streams through the clouds, breaking shadows and pouring out pillars of light. The breeze rushing through the trees, the rain pounding against the pavement, the birds singing in the early morning hours. Running, with the sun warm on my face. The smiles on people's faces as I see them through the day. The green on trees, and the bushes in blossom. A car so warm that I have to roll the windows down. Fresh air, later sunlit days (thanks daylight savings), and awesome sunsets that fill the sky with color. Purple, gold, pink, yellow... dotted with fantastic creatures and apparitions shaped with the wind... and then the breathtaking beauty of twilight. Nights warm enough to lay on the ground and watch the stars, or to talk with someone and never even know that time has passed or to stand on a street corner and watch the cars go by.
My life has its storms, when the heavens thunder and the world seems ready to split apart beneath me. The last few posts on (Gay) Mormon Guy have probably indicated that. But after the storms, comes Spring... and the knowledge that God really is watching out for me... and that He takes care of those I love. And with those storms, comes a change within me - a greater sense of gratitude, of humility, of awe, and of peace.
"For the beauty of the earth, for the beauty of the skies, for the land which from our birth over and around us lies... For the beauty of each hour, of the day and of the night, hill and vale and tree and flower, sun and moon and stars of light... For the joy of human love - brother, sister, parent, child. Friends on earth and friends above, for each gentle thought and mild... Lord of all, to Thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise."
Have I mentioned recently that life is spectacular? I love the way the sun streams through the clouds, breaking shadows and pouring out pillars of light. The breeze rushing through the trees, the rain pounding against the pavement, the birds singing in the early morning hours. Running, with the sun warm on my face. The smiles on people's faces as I see them through the day. The green on trees, and the bushes in blossom. A car so warm that I have to roll the windows down. Fresh air, later sunlit days (thanks daylight savings), and awesome sunsets that fill the sky with color. Purple, gold, pink, yellow... dotted with fantastic creatures and apparitions shaped with the wind... and then the breathtaking beauty of twilight. Nights warm enough to lay on the ground and watch the stars, or to talk with someone and never even know that time has passed or to stand on a street corner and watch the cars go by.
My life has its storms, when the heavens thunder and the world seems ready to split apart beneath me. The last few posts on (Gay) Mormon Guy have probably indicated that. But after the storms, comes Spring... and the knowledge that God really is watching out for me... and that He takes care of those I love. And with those storms, comes a change within me - a greater sense of gratitude, of humility, of awe, and of peace.
"For the beauty of the earth, for the beauty of the skies, for the land which from our birth over and around us lies... For the beauty of each hour, of the day and of the night, hill and vale and tree and flower, sun and moon and stars of light... For the joy of human love - brother, sister, parent, child. Friends on earth and friends above, for each gentle thought and mild... Lord of all, to Thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise."
Thursday, March 17
Living Close
The flowers outside the Provo temple are blooming. Looking out the west entrance, sprays of who-knows-what kind of colored blossoms dot the ground. But looking back toward the temple, at the rows closest to the temple walls, a strange phenomenon presents itself. Everywhere else on the temple grounds, the plants are randomly in bloom, with a few small blossoms surrounded by masses of still-undeveloped foliage. But in the rows closest to the temple, every flower is in full bloom. Even the tiny daffodils are open - the only ones blooming anywhere - and the ornamental grasses are twice as tall when compared to those bordering the walkway.
Amazingly, though, it is only the first two rows that show benefit from closeness. By the time you reach the third row, which is only maybe 5 feet from the temple walls, the plants act just like those in any other row - sporadic blooms and plenty of underdeveloped green. Only the very close ones exhibit the spectacular growth.
The flowers closest to the temple get approximately the same amount of light compared to those two rows away. They get the same amount of water, the same fertilizer, and were planted at the same time with the same size plants. So what is the secret to their success? Living close to the temple.
The temple is the house of the Lord. But in addition to having an abundance of His Spirit, it also always has people coming and going. The last shift of the night ends and the cleaning crews arrive, and the last cleaner leaves shortly after the temple presidency arrives in the morning. Because of that, the temple is always heated... and that heat radiates out through the stone walls and foundation, warming a thin layer of soil about 5 feet wide. Plants growing in this soil have an added support against freezing weather and changing weather patterns. Year after year, the constant warmth of the temple ensures that the plants closest to the temple are the strongest.
Looking at my life, the times when I live close to God are the times when, somehow, my problems seem easier to bear. Doing the right things, and seeing the fruits of my faith, seems easier, and I find myself wanting to read the scriptures, serve others, share the gospel, pray... The trials of life seem to melt away - I rarely find myself depressed, and temptations seem simple to overcome.
But just being there isn't enough. I have to be close to God. And, for me, that makes all the difference.
I can't just read my scriptures and expect to see visions and receive revelation for my life. I have to study, search, ponder, and apply them in my life... which usually takes much more time than 5 minutes before I fall asleep.
I can't say a quick prayer at all the right times and expect to have an intimate relationship with God. I have to plead with Him, understand His will, and listen and watch for answers all around me.
Living the gospel is great. Most of the flowers on the temple grounds will eventually bloom and look beautiful. Many of God's children will eventually acknowledge Him and turn to Him. But I want something better. I want to thrive here on Earth - to revel in the glories of life even while the storm is raging. I'm a (gay) Mormon guy with lots of problems. For me, living life on the outer edges of the gospel, according to the letter of the law, isn't enough. If I want to truly feel the power and influence that God can have in my life, I have to live close.
Amazingly, though, it is only the first two rows that show benefit from closeness. By the time you reach the third row, which is only maybe 5 feet from the temple walls, the plants act just like those in any other row - sporadic blooms and plenty of underdeveloped green. Only the very close ones exhibit the spectacular growth.
The flowers closest to the temple get approximately the same amount of light compared to those two rows away. They get the same amount of water, the same fertilizer, and were planted at the same time with the same size plants. So what is the secret to their success? Living close to the temple.
The temple is the house of the Lord. But in addition to having an abundance of His Spirit, it also always has people coming and going. The last shift of the night ends and the cleaning crews arrive, and the last cleaner leaves shortly after the temple presidency arrives in the morning. Because of that, the temple is always heated... and that heat radiates out through the stone walls and foundation, warming a thin layer of soil about 5 feet wide. Plants growing in this soil have an added support against freezing weather and changing weather patterns. Year after year, the constant warmth of the temple ensures that the plants closest to the temple are the strongest.
Looking at my life, the times when I live close to God are the times when, somehow, my problems seem easier to bear. Doing the right things, and seeing the fruits of my faith, seems easier, and I find myself wanting to read the scriptures, serve others, share the gospel, pray... The trials of life seem to melt away - I rarely find myself depressed, and temptations seem simple to overcome.
But just being there isn't enough. I have to be close to God. And, for me, that makes all the difference.
I can't just read my scriptures and expect to see visions and receive revelation for my life. I have to study, search, ponder, and apply them in my life... which usually takes much more time than 5 minutes before I fall asleep.
I can't say a quick prayer at all the right times and expect to have an intimate relationship with God. I have to plead with Him, understand His will, and listen and watch for answers all around me.
Living the gospel is great. Most of the flowers on the temple grounds will eventually bloom and look beautiful. Many of God's children will eventually acknowledge Him and turn to Him. But I want something better. I want to thrive here on Earth - to revel in the glories of life even while the storm is raging. I'm a (gay) Mormon guy with lots of problems. For me, living life on the outer edges of the gospel, according to the letter of the law, isn't enough. If I want to truly feel the power and influence that God can have in my life, I have to live close.
Tuesday, March 15
Japan: The Unreported Catastrophe
The massive earthquake that hit off the coast of Japan triggered a tectonic shift that moved the sea floor dozens of feet - resulting in a huge wave that hit the country's coastline only minutes after the main impact of the quake. In the aftermath, journalism has blurred into the sensational, as nuclear power plants experience one-in-a-million scenarios and declare nuclear emergencies, thousands are declared dead or missing, and the fragile world economy floats, waiting for impact from the potential devastation of its 3rd-largest contributor. Video feeds show cars, boats, houses, and planes that were picked up by the tsunami and smashed into bridges, buildings, and homes, crushing signs of society in a moment. Tens of thousands are without homes, and even as I write, the world stands poised to potentially face a nuclear catastrophe that would put Chernobyl to shame.
But there is another story that I have not seen reported - a story whose metaphors, to me, are far more compelling than fields of devastated homes and whose impact dwarfs a nuclear meltdown.
Alongside each natural disaster in the course of humanity comes a potential crisis in the faith of mankind. Some are able to see and understand the hand of God in all things, including catastrophes of nature... but some, upon witnessing the suffering of mortality, look to the sky and wonder, "Why?"
Their questions are heartfelt and sincere. Why would a loving God allow such massive suffering to occur? How could He stand back and watch as Saints and sinners are swept away, leaving families torn apart and dreams ravaged? Why doesn't He intervene on our behalf, if He truly loves us, and has the power to help us? Why do bad things happen to good people?
In the wake of the tidal wave that destroyed Japan came a wave of doubt, anguish, and despair that, with instant global communication, swept the entire modern world without warning. People as far away as the UK and Norway felt its impact... and as I write no number has even been begun to count the casualties of faith. Countless men and women, watching the story unfold through newspaper and television, will turn to the sky and curse God, or decide to simply deny His presence altogether. And while the ravages on the economy, human life, and infrastructure will prompt immediate reconstruction, rebuilding faith, in some cases, may never happen.
Families will be torn apart, lives destroyed, dreams shattered as members of humanity lose faith in their Creator. But, unlike the wave that left only devastation in its wake, there is another side to this story. Because while some of humanity questions the existence of a loving God in the face of adversity, others turn to Him, and grow stronger and stronger in their faith.
All over the world, men and women who haven't prayed for years feel a desire to kneel and approach God, imploring Him to bless their lives and give them hope and understanding. They find peace in doing their part to help rebuild a ravaged world - to open their homes and checkbooks for people they don't know - the nameless brothers and sisters of humanity - with an assurance that their monetary investments will never bring a physical return. Others turn from their sins and ask God to help them rebuild the infrastructure of their lives - abandoning alcoholism to return to a family, resolving feuds and fights, and combining to help change the world.
So what is the answer? If He truly loves us and has the power to alleviate suffering, why does God allow bad things to happen to good people?
The answer is this: He doesn't.
In God's eyes, all things work together for the good of those that love God and serve Him. The earthquake in Japan, like the personal catastrophes that happen every day, gives me an opportunity to choose - to turn to Him and grow in faith, or turn away. To reach out and help my fellow men, or to simply continue life as if nothing had ever happened. And in that choice lies the essence of mortality. This life is the time for men to prepare to meet God... and what we do and who we are in this life determines our relationship with Him.
I'll continue finding ways to help with the physical devastation of Japan. People need food, clean water, shelter, and safety to regain their lives. But, as I do, I know that a greater crusade will be gathering the invisible casualties of faith - finding ways to heal the brokenhearted, lift up the downcast, and raise the spiritually dead. I'm just another guy who happens to write here on (Gay) Mormon Guy. Someday, when the books are opened, I hope that I can read of the miracles that are happening and will take place as men and women of faith turn to God and do their part to rebuild their spiritual world. Hopefully, when my name is mentioned, I'll be able to say I did my part.
But there is another story that I have not seen reported - a story whose metaphors, to me, are far more compelling than fields of devastated homes and whose impact dwarfs a nuclear meltdown.
Alongside each natural disaster in the course of humanity comes a potential crisis in the faith of mankind. Some are able to see and understand the hand of God in all things, including catastrophes of nature... but some, upon witnessing the suffering of mortality, look to the sky and wonder, "Why?"
Their questions are heartfelt and sincere. Why would a loving God allow such massive suffering to occur? How could He stand back and watch as Saints and sinners are swept away, leaving families torn apart and dreams ravaged? Why doesn't He intervene on our behalf, if He truly loves us, and has the power to help us? Why do bad things happen to good people?
In the wake of the tidal wave that destroyed Japan came a wave of doubt, anguish, and despair that, with instant global communication, swept the entire modern world without warning. People as far away as the UK and Norway felt its impact... and as I write no number has even been begun to count the casualties of faith. Countless men and women, watching the story unfold through newspaper and television, will turn to the sky and curse God, or decide to simply deny His presence altogether. And while the ravages on the economy, human life, and infrastructure will prompt immediate reconstruction, rebuilding faith, in some cases, may never happen.
Families will be torn apart, lives destroyed, dreams shattered as members of humanity lose faith in their Creator. But, unlike the wave that left only devastation in its wake, there is another side to this story. Because while some of humanity questions the existence of a loving God in the face of adversity, others turn to Him, and grow stronger and stronger in their faith.
All over the world, men and women who haven't prayed for years feel a desire to kneel and approach God, imploring Him to bless their lives and give them hope and understanding. They find peace in doing their part to help rebuild a ravaged world - to open their homes and checkbooks for people they don't know - the nameless brothers and sisters of humanity - with an assurance that their monetary investments will never bring a physical return. Others turn from their sins and ask God to help them rebuild the infrastructure of their lives - abandoning alcoholism to return to a family, resolving feuds and fights, and combining to help change the world.
So what is the answer? If He truly loves us and has the power to alleviate suffering, why does God allow bad things to happen to good people?
The answer is this: He doesn't.
In God's eyes, all things work together for the good of those that love God and serve Him. The earthquake in Japan, like the personal catastrophes that happen every day, gives me an opportunity to choose - to turn to Him and grow in faith, or turn away. To reach out and help my fellow men, or to simply continue life as if nothing had ever happened. And in that choice lies the essence of mortality. This life is the time for men to prepare to meet God... and what we do and who we are in this life determines our relationship with Him.
I'll continue finding ways to help with the physical devastation of Japan. People need food, clean water, shelter, and safety to regain their lives. But, as I do, I know that a greater crusade will be gathering the invisible casualties of faith - finding ways to heal the brokenhearted, lift up the downcast, and raise the spiritually dead. I'm just another guy who happens to write here on (Gay) Mormon Guy. Someday, when the books are opened, I hope that I can read of the miracles that are happening and will take place as men and women of faith turn to God and do their part to rebuild their spiritual world. Hopefully, when my name is mentioned, I'll be able to say I did my part.
Thursday, February 17
Apathy
Sometimes depression hits me like a ton of bricks, leaving me with nothing to do but cry. It makes me feel less than worthless, and nothing in the world can give me peace. I lose my desire to do anything because my mind is convinced (albeit on extremely questionable grounds) that I could never really do anything worthwhile. And if nothing I do can make a difference, then why try?
When depression like that hits, writing is often my outlet, and I find myself here, writing, reading my scriptures, and trying to lift my otherwise downtrodden spirit. And it ends up working and helping me to see deeper meaning in life; it gives purpose to the suffering I face.
But sometimes depression, or something, hits from a totally different direction. Instead of robbing me of self-worth, it simply robs me of my motivation... of the enjoyment and passion and all the emotions I used to feel in life. Things that used to be compelling are tiresome, and the commitments I excitedly made only days before grow into boring lapses of going through the motions. And when I feel that way (which describes me over the last few days), I don't find myself turning to God or to anything for help. To be honest, I don't find myself doing much of anything.
I miss my scheduled workouts, because I don't have the desire to go. And even when I force myself to get inside the gym, I don't ever feel the workout rush. The daily run of life loses all value, and people can tell that I've checked out of reality no matter where I go. I stop calling my friends or returning their calls, wake up late, and find myself going for hours without even a memory of what I accomplished to show for it - only a hugely deadened sense of guilt for having wasted time.
If I didn't completely lack emotions right now, the realization that a feeling of apathy could negatively affect my life would make me incredibly frustrated, or at least concerned. I'd write about my own shortcomings and light a fire beneath myself to make it less likely in the future and give me the tools to cope in the meantime. I've spent years trying to develop patterns and habits, and this is not helping. As it is, I don't really feel anything. And, in my current condition, I'm not sure that I could convince myself that it is worth caring about.
So what is it then that pushes me to write tonight? If it's not a desire to share anything or to work through my feelings or to answer a question on my mind... what keeps me here?
I think it's a sense of idle curiosity - the one emotion that perhaps even a cloak of apathy doesn't kill inside me. Somewhere inside me there's a deeply rooted desire to understand the universe and its workings, and I want to understand what is happening to me. I sometimes lack interest in specific subjects, but this is different. What is this overwhelming, universal feeling of apathy? Where does it come from? Are there precipitating factors in its manifestation? How can I fight it? Should I? Can I? What can I learn from it? How can I help others do the same?
I don't know the answers... and part of me doesn't care. But part of me has already woken up and is pleading for me to find a way to work through it - to read my scriptures and work out and eat healthily and pray even when I feel dead to the world... because they are important. And even in my apathy, I feel the soft whispering that tells me it's true.
I guess that's my answer. Maybe the apathy is just a test to see if I'm willing to push through and stay true to my covenants and commitments even without the immediate gratification that doing and being good often brings. To be who I am even without the carefully tuned desires and emotions that influence me each day. Or maybe it's to help me help others. One of my friends recently told me he felt an incredible sense of apathy, and I wondered what I could do to help... and now I know.
Who knows. I still wonder about the apathy, but something inside me has woken up to tell me I have things to do. I guess it's leaving after all.
When depression like that hits, writing is often my outlet, and I find myself here, writing, reading my scriptures, and trying to lift my otherwise downtrodden spirit. And it ends up working and helping me to see deeper meaning in life; it gives purpose to the suffering I face.
But sometimes depression, or something, hits from a totally different direction. Instead of robbing me of self-worth, it simply robs me of my motivation... of the enjoyment and passion and all the emotions I used to feel in life. Things that used to be compelling are tiresome, and the commitments I excitedly made only days before grow into boring lapses of going through the motions. And when I feel that way (which describes me over the last few days), I don't find myself turning to God or to anything for help. To be honest, I don't find myself doing much of anything.
I miss my scheduled workouts, because I don't have the desire to go. And even when I force myself to get inside the gym, I don't ever feel the workout rush. The daily run of life loses all value, and people can tell that I've checked out of reality no matter where I go. I stop calling my friends or returning their calls, wake up late, and find myself going for hours without even a memory of what I accomplished to show for it - only a hugely deadened sense of guilt for having wasted time.
If I didn't completely lack emotions right now, the realization that a feeling of apathy could negatively affect my life would make me incredibly frustrated, or at least concerned. I'd write about my own shortcomings and light a fire beneath myself to make it less likely in the future and give me the tools to cope in the meantime. I've spent years trying to develop patterns and habits, and this is not helping. As it is, I don't really feel anything. And, in my current condition, I'm not sure that I could convince myself that it is worth caring about.
So what is it then that pushes me to write tonight? If it's not a desire to share anything or to work through my feelings or to answer a question on my mind... what keeps me here?
I think it's a sense of idle curiosity - the one emotion that perhaps even a cloak of apathy doesn't kill inside me. Somewhere inside me there's a deeply rooted desire to understand the universe and its workings, and I want to understand what is happening to me. I sometimes lack interest in specific subjects, but this is different. What is this overwhelming, universal feeling of apathy? Where does it come from? Are there precipitating factors in its manifestation? How can I fight it? Should I? Can I? What can I learn from it? How can I help others do the same?
I don't know the answers... and part of me doesn't care. But part of me has already woken up and is pleading for me to find a way to work through it - to read my scriptures and work out and eat healthily and pray even when I feel dead to the world... because they are important. And even in my apathy, I feel the soft whispering that tells me it's true.
I guess that's my answer. Maybe the apathy is just a test to see if I'm willing to push through and stay true to my covenants and commitments even without the immediate gratification that doing and being good often brings. To be who I am even without the carefully tuned desires and emotions that influence me each day. Or maybe it's to help me help others. One of my friends recently told me he felt an incredible sense of apathy, and I wondered what I could do to help... and now I know.
Who knows. I still wonder about the apathy, but something inside me has woken up to tell me I have things to do. I guess it's leaving after all.
Friday, February 4
Blogging when there's nothing to blog about
Most of the time I have an idea of what I'm going to post before I begin writing. The topics develop and coalesce as I write, teaching me new things and giving insight into how I feel. Sometimes it's cathartic, sometimes it's an incredible learning experience. And almost always it leaves me feeling better than I began.
But the last few days I haven't had much thought about what I want to write. Maybe it's because I've just been busy, or because this blog hasn't been as pressing on my mind, or maybe it's because I just feel peaceful and I don't feel the pressing need to communicate something to the world.
I guess that's an interesting insight - some of the shortest histories we have in scripture cover centuries by simply saying, "And they lived after the manner of happiness." The Nephites, in particular, have incredible histories documenting their wars, sins, destructions, and dysfunctional government. But their books are almost void of the years and days of peace.
So the last few days have been peaceful. Simple. It hasn't been perfect by any means - but I doubt that my life ever will be, since the imperfections of life are what I came here for. I've just felt the inner peace that comes from living the gospel and putting faith in God.
And so that's why I'm writing - to share the simple witness of the peace in my life. From working at the temple to working in general to working in my callings and among my friends, life is good. And if yours isn't right now, then remember that the storm clouds always clear. They often come back, too - I'll probably slam into depression when this is over - but when the sunlight shines from Heaven it's all completely worth it. And that's why I write.
But the last few days I haven't had much thought about what I want to write. Maybe it's because I've just been busy, or because this blog hasn't been as pressing on my mind, or maybe it's because I just feel peaceful and I don't feel the pressing need to communicate something to the world.
I guess that's an interesting insight - some of the shortest histories we have in scripture cover centuries by simply saying, "And they lived after the manner of happiness." The Nephites, in particular, have incredible histories documenting their wars, sins, destructions, and dysfunctional government. But their books are almost void of the years and days of peace.
So the last few days have been peaceful. Simple. It hasn't been perfect by any means - but I doubt that my life ever will be, since the imperfections of life are what I came here for. I've just felt the inner peace that comes from living the gospel and putting faith in God.
And so that's why I'm writing - to share the simple witness of the peace in my life. From working at the temple to working in general to working in my callings and among my friends, life is good. And if yours isn't right now, then remember that the storm clouds always clear. They often come back, too - I'll probably slam into depression when this is over - but when the sunlight shines from Heaven it's all completely worth it. And that's why I write.
Friday, January 28
Bigoted, Hateful, and Homophobic
Last night I felt like I had been run over by a half dozen emotional Mack trucks. Part of me wished their human masquerade could disappear, and they really had been trucks... and then they could have seen the damage. But not... it's just hard when... I know my emotional needs are way beyond what they're willing to give. I've rewritten this paragraph five times because part of me wants to label them, and everyone else in the world who doesn't understand, as callous and unkind, insensitive and rude... But I can't.
I think that's a big difference in the way I perceive others and the way many in the gay community do. When pain strikes, it's easy to label those who don't understand or agree as bigots, hateful, spiteful, unChristian, homophobic... and in applying those labels I would apply the negative emotions, hatred and spite and insensitivity, as answer to the same. By labeling the people who have hurt me, it makes them less worthwhile, effectively making the pain subside, since those inflicting it are less human... and less worth my interest.
But I can't do that. Just as firmly as I know that I am a son of God, and that He loves me, I know that God loves all His children - including those who have hurt me, purposefully, beyond their own understanding. They aren't monsters, or hateful demons, or bigots, or spiteful, or homophobic. They are sons and daughters of God... and when I follow God, I feel His love for them. I can't curse or hate or think less of a son of God.
So that puts me in a bind. My pain would be a whole lot less if I were to label my "enemies" as such, piling on enough epithets that I could honestly question their humanity. But I know they are children of God - with divine potential - and so I can't demonize them. That leaves me with a whole lot of pain, though, and nowhere to put it.
The next easiest way to deal with the pain would be to do nothing - to let people step on me and just "deal with it," "get over it," or "suck it up." It was what the guy who called me a creep and others who don't understand the implications have suggested - just ignore it and it will go away. But where demonizing others turns me into a demon, becoming a doormat could be worse. The pain doesn't go ever go away, only building up to a massive explosion of fire and passion - the "coming out" talks in Sacrament meeting, or the anti-Mormon books written in secret and published simultaneously with a letter asking for removal from the records of the Church... or the suicide letters simply asking for relief. It never works in the end. The day-to-day pain never ends, and rarely gets temporarily better. And when they have had as much as they can handle, something breaks and men and women find themselves scarred with eternal pain, wondering if their faith is worthwhile. And if this is all it brings, then the answer is no. No faith that only brings pain is worthwhile.
So last night I found myself wondering exactly what I was supposed to do with the pain that I've felt - the pain of being misunderstood, ignored, and outcast, on purpose or by circumstance. In both choices, nothing would change. Only really good people honestly listen to those who call them bigots and hateful, and the people who are really good love everyone anyway. There would still be pain. And being a doormat would make everyone think that I'm just like everyone else. There would still be pain. And nothing would change. And then I found a third way.
It's by far the hardest way... but I knew in an instant that it's what the Lord has taught me all along. It's the message of the gospel, and the power that can give men strength to weather any trial: Be the change you want to see in the world.
It means giving the Lord my pain and loving others unconditionally - no matter what choices they make. It means loving them when they hate me, ignore me, and make jokes in Elder's Quorum. It means loving them when they send me hate mail or post videos on YouTube or deride me in public forums. It means loving all men unconditionally - no matter who I am and no matter who they are - and without reserve. And it means showing that love by being a part of their lives, supporting them, standing at their sides, inviting and lifting them forever. Befriending others when I need a friend, sympathizing with others when I need a shoulder to cry on. And sharing my voice and my love, unconditionally.
So last night, through my tears, I gave the Lord my pain and asked Him to forgive the others - all the people in the world whose ignorant existence makes my life a living misery. Forgive them, for they know not what they do. And even if they do know, they are still children of God, still worthy of my love. And I again committed to actively loving them - to being an influence in their lives and following the words of Christ - loving those who despitefully use and persecute me.
But how far does it go? What does unconditional love mean? There's a guy I know who seems to absolutely hate me, or be afraid of me, or be jealous of me, or something. "If you had the opportunity to sacrifice your life for his," the question came, "Would your love be enough to do it?"
This was without direct commandment from God to do it. Without assurance that my sacrifice would be worthwhile. Without assurance that he or anyone would ever know. But in that question I heard the voice of God speaking to another of His Sons - a Son who had felt all of mankind's sins and seen the depth of their iniquity. A Son who spent His life picking up the pieces of those who callously, or ignorantly, discarded their fellow men. And, when God asked Him, He said yes.
That's the power of the pure love of Christ. It throws out hatred and spite and the labels of the world, and replaces a desire and willingness to do anything to bless the lives of others - hence the quote from the prophet Joseph - a man filled with the love of God is not content with blessing his family only, but goes through the entire earth, anxious to do everything in his power to bless all men.
In a moment, I saw all the people in my life - the good and the bad - dressed in white, standing as a family. I saw the good that they could do, and the change they could be in the world. But, most, I felt God's love for them.
So would I do it? Would I give my life for an enemy, a stranger, a friend, or a guy who hates me? Yeah, I would. Even if really loving people makes me an outcast, even if nothing ever came of it, even if no one ever knew. We are family here - brothers and sisters - children of God. He, I, and all of us were worth the life of God's Begotten Son... so he's worth mine as well.
I think that's a big difference in the way I perceive others and the way many in the gay community do. When pain strikes, it's easy to label those who don't understand or agree as bigots, hateful, spiteful, unChristian, homophobic... and in applying those labels I would apply the negative emotions, hatred and spite and insensitivity, as answer to the same. By labeling the people who have hurt me, it makes them less worthwhile, effectively making the pain subside, since those inflicting it are less human... and less worth my interest.
But I can't do that. Just as firmly as I know that I am a son of God, and that He loves me, I know that God loves all His children - including those who have hurt me, purposefully, beyond their own understanding. They aren't monsters, or hateful demons, or bigots, or spiteful, or homophobic. They are sons and daughters of God... and when I follow God, I feel His love for them. I can't curse or hate or think less of a son of God.
So that puts me in a bind. My pain would be a whole lot less if I were to label my "enemies" as such, piling on enough epithets that I could honestly question their humanity. But I know they are children of God - with divine potential - and so I can't demonize them. That leaves me with a whole lot of pain, though, and nowhere to put it.
The next easiest way to deal with the pain would be to do nothing - to let people step on me and just "deal with it," "get over it," or "suck it up." It was what the guy who called me a creep and others who don't understand the implications have suggested - just ignore it and it will go away. But where demonizing others turns me into a demon, becoming a doormat could be worse. The pain doesn't go ever go away, only building up to a massive explosion of fire and passion - the "coming out" talks in Sacrament meeting, or the anti-Mormon books written in secret and published simultaneously with a letter asking for removal from the records of the Church... or the suicide letters simply asking for relief. It never works in the end. The day-to-day pain never ends, and rarely gets temporarily better. And when they have had as much as they can handle, something breaks and men and women find themselves scarred with eternal pain, wondering if their faith is worthwhile. And if this is all it brings, then the answer is no. No faith that only brings pain is worthwhile.
So last night I found myself wondering exactly what I was supposed to do with the pain that I've felt - the pain of being misunderstood, ignored, and outcast, on purpose or by circumstance. In both choices, nothing would change. Only really good people honestly listen to those who call them bigots and hateful, and the people who are really good love everyone anyway. There would still be pain. And being a doormat would make everyone think that I'm just like everyone else. There would still be pain. And nothing would change. And then I found a third way.
It's by far the hardest way... but I knew in an instant that it's what the Lord has taught me all along. It's the message of the gospel, and the power that can give men strength to weather any trial: Be the change you want to see in the world.
It means giving the Lord my pain and loving others unconditionally - no matter what choices they make. It means loving them when they hate me, ignore me, and make jokes in Elder's Quorum. It means loving them when they send me hate mail or post videos on YouTube or deride me in public forums. It means loving all men unconditionally - no matter who I am and no matter who they are - and without reserve. And it means showing that love by being a part of their lives, supporting them, standing at their sides, inviting and lifting them forever. Befriending others when I need a friend, sympathizing with others when I need a shoulder to cry on. And sharing my voice and my love, unconditionally.
So last night, through my tears, I gave the Lord my pain and asked Him to forgive the others - all the people in the world whose ignorant existence makes my life a living misery. Forgive them, for they know not what they do. And even if they do know, they are still children of God, still worthy of my love. And I again committed to actively loving them - to being an influence in their lives and following the words of Christ - loving those who despitefully use and persecute me.
But how far does it go? What does unconditional love mean? There's a guy I know who seems to absolutely hate me, or be afraid of me, or be jealous of me, or something. "If you had the opportunity to sacrifice your life for his," the question came, "Would your love be enough to do it?"
This was without direct commandment from God to do it. Without assurance that my sacrifice would be worthwhile. Without assurance that he or anyone would ever know. But in that question I heard the voice of God speaking to another of His Sons - a Son who had felt all of mankind's sins and seen the depth of their iniquity. A Son who spent His life picking up the pieces of those who callously, or ignorantly, discarded their fellow men. And, when God asked Him, He said yes.
That's the power of the pure love of Christ. It throws out hatred and spite and the labels of the world, and replaces a desire and willingness to do anything to bless the lives of others - hence the quote from the prophet Joseph - a man filled with the love of God is not content with blessing his family only, but goes through the entire earth, anxious to do everything in his power to bless all men.
In a moment, I saw all the people in my life - the good and the bad - dressed in white, standing as a family. I saw the good that they could do, and the change they could be in the world. But, most, I felt God's love for them.
So would I do it? Would I give my life for an enemy, a stranger, a friend, or a guy who hates me? Yeah, I would. Even if really loving people makes me an outcast, even if nothing ever came of it, even if no one ever knew. We are family here - brothers and sisters - children of God. He, I, and all of us were worth the life of God's Begotten Son... so he's worth mine as well.
Monday, January 24
Winds of Change... on Top of the World
So either life is going to get really, really bad very soon, or this is a rollover blessing from last week's pain. Either way, the last few days have been awesome. Nothing really life-changing has happened - the guys who seemed to hate me before still avoid me, and life continues in the same flow... but it feels different. I feel like I could run to the top of the mountain and back down again, shout the gospel from the housetops, and do anything at all without fear or looking back.
But along with the euphoria of knowing that I'm doing the right things and that God is involved in my life, there's something else. Like the silence before the rain begins pelting, or the stillness before the wind rushes through the trees. I feel like the wind is blowing, right before a massive storm. Something is going to happen. I feel like everything could change tomorrow - like I could wake up and nothing would be the same. Granted, that may or may not be a pleasant experience when it happens, but I can feel it coming.
It's like standing at the edge of a precipice, knowing that I'm going to have to jump into the abyss, or walking towards the shadow of a familiar, lighted terrace, unsure if the next step will even have solid ground to catch my fall. It could be something awesome that changes my life forever... or it could be something awful that has the same effect. But at least I have fair warning, or something like that... and I know that God is with me, and that He is in the wind.
I think that feeling the winds of change is one of the greatest sources of hope in my life. It equalizes me with my dreams, and reopens the doors and windows that circumstances had long since locked shut. Somehow, anything is possible, and hope springs up like a fountain... and I end up smiling for most of the day and week for no reason at all.
True hope comes from a knowledge of the power of the Atonement... and a belief in what it can do in my life. The world often expects me to be 'reasonable' or 'practical' in my beliefs, and sometimes I am. But when the winds of change blow, and for a moment I see eternity and all its glory laid out in front of me, reason and practicality get tossed to the wind... and I become yet again a hopeless romantic - an optimistic idealist who honestly believes that anything is possible.
I don't know what tomorrow holds... but I'm excited to see. It's probably going to entail massive commitments, oncredible blessings, and a ton of hard work and pain. Either way, I have the promise that "all things work together for the good of them that love God and serve Him..." and "all these things shall give thee experience and be for thy good." The winds of change are blowing... and I can hear His voice in the wind.
But along with the euphoria of knowing that I'm doing the right things and that God is involved in my life, there's something else. Like the silence before the rain begins pelting, or the stillness before the wind rushes through the trees. I feel like the wind is blowing, right before a massive storm. Something is going to happen. I feel like everything could change tomorrow - like I could wake up and nothing would be the same. Granted, that may or may not be a pleasant experience when it happens, but I can feel it coming.
It's like standing at the edge of a precipice, knowing that I'm going to have to jump into the abyss, or walking towards the shadow of a familiar, lighted terrace, unsure if the next step will even have solid ground to catch my fall. It could be something awesome that changes my life forever... or it could be something awful that has the same effect. But at least I have fair warning, or something like that... and I know that God is with me, and that He is in the wind.
I think that feeling the winds of change is one of the greatest sources of hope in my life. It equalizes me with my dreams, and reopens the doors and windows that circumstances had long since locked shut. Somehow, anything is possible, and hope springs up like a fountain... and I end up smiling for most of the day and week for no reason at all.
True hope comes from a knowledge of the power of the Atonement... and a belief in what it can do in my life. The world often expects me to be 'reasonable' or 'practical' in my beliefs, and sometimes I am. But when the winds of change blow, and for a moment I see eternity and all its glory laid out in front of me, reason and practicality get tossed to the wind... and I become yet again a hopeless romantic - an optimistic idealist who honestly believes that anything is possible.
I don't know what tomorrow holds... but I'm excited to see. It's probably going to entail massive commitments, oncredible blessings, and a ton of hard work and pain. Either way, I have the promise that "all things work together for the good of them that love God and serve Him..." and "all these things shall give thee experience and be for thy good." The winds of change are blowing... and I can hear His voice in the wind.
Sunday, January 9
Let His Light So Shine
I was somewhere a few days ago and heard the song "Carry Your Candle" playing. The first time I had ever heard it was about a year ago on the radio, and the lyrics have stuck with me ever since... and remind me of the ability and call I have to share the light.
Frustrated brother, see how he's tried to light his own candle another way...
See now your sister - she's been robbed and lied to - still holds a candle without a flame.
As the words pass by, I envision countless people, each tightly gripping a candle in his hand, trying to find his way and stay warm in a cold, dark night. The sea of darkness is interrupted only with rare and tiny pinpricks of light. And then I see me, holding in my hand a candle, topped by a tiny flame. Why me? How is it that somehow it worked out and I learned the truth of the gospel? How have I stayed alive when so many others have given up and let the flame die? And, in a world where everyone seems to be searching for peace and hope, why does God answer my prayers and keep me safe when I am surrounded by the storm?
I think that at least part of the answer lies in the calling I've felt - the need to share the light - to run to the darkness to seek out the helpless, tired, and worn. Perhaps I needed to learn to give to others, to open my mouth, to trust Him when everything seems to be going wrong. There are days when I feel like my life is going nowhere, when I look around me and the only light I see is the pinprick of my faith in God... And then I look out at my brothers, each living a different life and fighting different battles... without even the pinprick that I hold in my hand... and I realize how blessed I am to have it.
Some days I wish I could be an angel - to have the power to speak and to shake the earth and call men to repentance... to give the world hope in the peace that comes from living the gospel and no other way. And sometimes I can. Here on (Gay) Mormon Guy I can share my testimony, and hope that the Spirit will carry my words to the far reaches of the world and light a flame to last for eternity. People from Thailand and India, Africa and Saudi Arabia, Korea, China, and almost every country in between have found the message here... and I am amazed by the stories they send.
But, most of the time, I walk through the darkness with only my own candle... and when I find a brother who will listen, I take him in my arms, share the light of my candle, and watch as he goes through life changed forever, sharing the light that has become a part of who he is. Most of those people have actually been girls, since I have trouble making friends with guys.
That's the heart of who I want to be and what I want to accomplish - to somehow mold my life to reflect the light of the Savior and show His mercy and love to those who are searching in darkness.
And hopefully it will help my own search. Part of my trial in life is feeling alone. I can be in a room of people who love me, surrounded by those who admire and esteem me, or even confiding my heart to a friend, and I still feel alone. I find myself looking for warmth from others, instead of turning to my candle of faith and my relationship with God. But when I share the gospel, and a brother borrows the light I have been given to relight his faith, for a moment, the candles flare... and I feel at home. For a moment, I can see and feel clearly into eternity, and God's glory fills my soul with light.
Frustrated brother, see how he's tried to light his own candle another way...
See now your sister - she's been robbed and lied to - still holds a candle without a flame.
As the words pass by, I envision countless people, each tightly gripping a candle in his hand, trying to find his way and stay warm in a cold, dark night. The sea of darkness is interrupted only with rare and tiny pinpricks of light. And then I see me, holding in my hand a candle, topped by a tiny flame. Why me? How is it that somehow it worked out and I learned the truth of the gospel? How have I stayed alive when so many others have given up and let the flame die? And, in a world where everyone seems to be searching for peace and hope, why does God answer my prayers and keep me safe when I am surrounded by the storm?
I think that at least part of the answer lies in the calling I've felt - the need to share the light - to run to the darkness to seek out the helpless, tired, and worn. Perhaps I needed to learn to give to others, to open my mouth, to trust Him when everything seems to be going wrong. There are days when I feel like my life is going nowhere, when I look around me and the only light I see is the pinprick of my faith in God... And then I look out at my brothers, each living a different life and fighting different battles... without even the pinprick that I hold in my hand... and I realize how blessed I am to have it.
Some days I wish I could be an angel - to have the power to speak and to shake the earth and call men to repentance... to give the world hope in the peace that comes from living the gospel and no other way. And sometimes I can. Here on (Gay) Mormon Guy I can share my testimony, and hope that the Spirit will carry my words to the far reaches of the world and light a flame to last for eternity. People from Thailand and India, Africa and Saudi Arabia, Korea, China, and almost every country in between have found the message here... and I am amazed by the stories they send.
But, most of the time, I walk through the darkness with only my own candle... and when I find a brother who will listen, I take him in my arms, share the light of my candle, and watch as he goes through life changed forever, sharing the light that has become a part of who he is. Most of those people have actually been girls, since I have trouble making friends with guys.
That's the heart of who I want to be and what I want to accomplish - to somehow mold my life to reflect the light of the Savior and show His mercy and love to those who are searching in darkness.
And hopefully it will help my own search. Part of my trial in life is feeling alone. I can be in a room of people who love me, surrounded by those who admire and esteem me, or even confiding my heart to a friend, and I still feel alone. I find myself looking for warmth from others, instead of turning to my candle of faith and my relationship with God. But when I share the gospel, and a brother borrows the light I have been given to relight his faith, for a moment, the candles flare... and I feel at home. For a moment, I can see and feel clearly into eternity, and God's glory fills my soul with light.
Saturday, December 18
I Asked God to Kill Me Today
A priesthood leader told me this morning that I was a creep and that he essentially never wanted to talk to me again. I usually try to delevop relationships of trust with my leaders because I've been in their shoes... and sustaining means more to me than just doing my home teaching and fulfilling my caling in the ward. But I really hadn't done anything different here than with anyone else - I talked to him when I saw him in and outside of church, let him know about activities and social events so he could pass it on to quorum members, and accepted his invitations to serve, attend the temple, play sports, go to another institute class...
So when he told me this morning that I was a creep, it hurt way more than I ever could have guessed. I'll be honest. I am in constant need of friends, and I am constantly somehow pushing them all away. Everything I do seems to backfire and turn all my efforts into dust... and I'm left totally alone, friendless, and depressed. I cried for hours this morning, talking with God and trying to figure out what I am doing so terribly wrong. And I don't know. I don't know at all. And I haven't known since I was 12 years old and realized that my "friends" all had better friends... but I never did. I don't have the best relationship with my family members, because we have a really hard time understanding one another. The few times I've tried to talk to them about anything they've been kind enough to listen... but they can't empathize and the suggestions they make belie a complete misunderstanding of what it is I face.
I felt so incredibly frustrated this morning. What a hypocrite, to preach about the importance of unity and then discard someone who has asked for your help. Part of me wanted to shout - to show him how much pain his words were causing to a guy who lives with depression, feels like he has no friends, and turns to Church leaders as His one source of friends... because they have the obligation to love and accept others unconditionally. And part of me broke into tears that lasted long after I'm sure he forgot about his words. Maybe he was right. Maybe I am a creep, and he and everyone else that tells me I'm socially inept are right. And the others, and I, are all wrong. I can't judge people. I don't know his circumstances or who he really is. The only thing I know is that he felt uncomfortable around me, creeped out, and didn't want me to talk to him again.
I've been trying to do everything right in life. I do everything I can to keep the commandments, be a good example, overcome my temptations in life... So where am I going wrong? While I was sobbing a woman came up to me (I have to get out of my house when I'm depressed or life is really bad) touched my shoulder, and said, "I hope life gets better for you." Total and complete strangers understand and love me. But the people I love and care about find ways to distance themselves from whatever emotional leprosy I carry.
The Lord told me not to worry... and to just move on with life. To not judge others for anything they do or don't do... and to simply love them. At least He doesn't think I'm a creep. And He reminded me that I should be relying on Him - not on others - to fill my needs. Only He truly understands my pain, because He has felt it, and overcome it so that I can be happy and have peace. Obviously my request to die was denied. He asked, instead, that I give up my pain, my sorrow, my grief, my anger... and let Him give me peace. I realized that I had asked for peace but wasn't willing to give up my pain without understanding it. Dear Lord, give me the faith and courage to believe and trust, even when I don't understand and everything seems to be going wrong. And, in moments, my tears dried and I felt peace.
I still don't know what to do, or what I am doing wrong that pushes people away from me. But I still have a testimony of the Gospel. I'll still be active in the Church even if I can't confide in... and have trouble admiring or trusting... my priesthood leaders... because my relationship with God is my own, and no one can take that away from me. Someday I'll understand. In the meantime, I'll have faith, and accept the peace that comes from Christ.
So when he told me this morning that I was a creep, it hurt way more than I ever could have guessed. I'll be honest. I am in constant need of friends, and I am constantly somehow pushing them all away. Everything I do seems to backfire and turn all my efforts into dust... and I'm left totally alone, friendless, and depressed. I cried for hours this morning, talking with God and trying to figure out what I am doing so terribly wrong. And I don't know. I don't know at all. And I haven't known since I was 12 years old and realized that my "friends" all had better friends... but I never did. I don't have the best relationship with my family members, because we have a really hard time understanding one another. The few times I've tried to talk to them about anything they've been kind enough to listen... but they can't empathize and the suggestions they make belie a complete misunderstanding of what it is I face.
I felt so incredibly frustrated this morning. What a hypocrite, to preach about the importance of unity and then discard someone who has asked for your help. Part of me wanted to shout - to show him how much pain his words were causing to a guy who lives with depression, feels like he has no friends, and turns to Church leaders as His one source of friends... because they have the obligation to love and accept others unconditionally. And part of me broke into tears that lasted long after I'm sure he forgot about his words. Maybe he was right. Maybe I am a creep, and he and everyone else that tells me I'm socially inept are right. And the others, and I, are all wrong. I can't judge people. I don't know his circumstances or who he really is. The only thing I know is that he felt uncomfortable around me, creeped out, and didn't want me to talk to him again.
I've been trying to do everything right in life. I do everything I can to keep the commandments, be a good example, overcome my temptations in life... So where am I going wrong? While I was sobbing a woman came up to me (I have to get out of my house when I'm depressed or life is really bad) touched my shoulder, and said, "I hope life gets better for you." Total and complete strangers understand and love me. But the people I love and care about find ways to distance themselves from whatever emotional leprosy I carry.
The Lord told me not to worry... and to just move on with life. To not judge others for anything they do or don't do... and to simply love them. At least He doesn't think I'm a creep. And He reminded me that I should be relying on Him - not on others - to fill my needs. Only He truly understands my pain, because He has felt it, and overcome it so that I can be happy and have peace. Obviously my request to die was denied. He asked, instead, that I give up my pain, my sorrow, my grief, my anger... and let Him give me peace. I realized that I had asked for peace but wasn't willing to give up my pain without understanding it. Dear Lord, give me the faith and courage to believe and trust, even when I don't understand and everything seems to be going wrong. And, in moments, my tears dried and I felt peace.
I still don't know what to do, or what I am doing wrong that pushes people away from me. But I still have a testimony of the Gospel. I'll still be active in the Church even if I can't confide in... and have trouble admiring or trusting... my priesthood leaders... because my relationship with God is my own, and no one can take that away from me. Someday I'll understand. In the meantime, I'll have faith, and accept the peace that comes from Christ.
Tuesday, November 30
Rise Up, and Run
Be of good courage, for thy sins are forgiven thee... That thou mayest know that the Son of Man hath power to forgive sins, rise, take up thy bed, and walk.
I can tell when the worst temptations are about to hit. It starts with a feeling of unease, followed by something that is between a mix of incredible stress and depression. It hits when I'm alone, with nothing planned and no one around to save me. And at that point, I realize that I have a choice. Stay alone, do nothing, and let it hit me full force and probably carry me way beyond where I want to go (and set off at least a week of depression as I try to regain my feet again), or rise and run away as fast as I can. I don't always run... even though I know I should, and that is what concerns me. The Lord warns me. I know when life is going to get hard and the trials begin to overwhelm me. And yet, sometimes, I don't listen. And I fall on my face, only a few steps from the last time.
I'm not perfect by any means. And often that irks me... I've been blessed beyond anything I could ever dream, and yet I still haven't fully integrated the teachings of the Savior in my life. Do I not believe Him? Am I just lazy? Stupid? Falling to temptation is never worth it; the road to Heaven is steep enough without jumping off of sheer cliff faces.
I know that I'm not hopelessly lost. I still move forward every day. Most of the time, I listen when the Spirit tells me to run, and then I start running. Yes, sometimes I still fall. Flat on my face, in the mud, and the Lord holds out His hand to help me stand, just as He dis to the woman who washed His feet with her tears and the men who lay crippled by the side of the waters of Bethesda or in a home on their bed. I, too, have fallen, too many times... and I can't rise alone. His hand is outstretched... but not to take away my struggle. To help me learn to stand, with Him as my strength. To help me realize that it takes more than faith to rise up and walk...to rise up and run from temptation... more than anything I could ever do alone. Maybe that's another meaning of the promises the Lord has given in the scriptures... That as I turn to Him, He will give me the strength to run and not be weary, and walk and not faint.
I can tell when the worst temptations are about to hit. It starts with a feeling of unease, followed by something that is between a mix of incredible stress and depression. It hits when I'm alone, with nothing planned and no one around to save me. And at that point, I realize that I have a choice. Stay alone, do nothing, and let it hit me full force and probably carry me way beyond where I want to go (and set off at least a week of depression as I try to regain my feet again), or rise and run away as fast as I can. I don't always run... even though I know I should, and that is what concerns me. The Lord warns me. I know when life is going to get hard and the trials begin to overwhelm me. And yet, sometimes, I don't listen. And I fall on my face, only a few steps from the last time.
I'm not perfect by any means. And often that irks me... I've been blessed beyond anything I could ever dream, and yet I still haven't fully integrated the teachings of the Savior in my life. Do I not believe Him? Am I just lazy? Stupid? Falling to temptation is never worth it; the road to Heaven is steep enough without jumping off of sheer cliff faces.
I know that I'm not hopelessly lost. I still move forward every day. Most of the time, I listen when the Spirit tells me to run, and then I start running. Yes, sometimes I still fall. Flat on my face, in the mud, and the Lord holds out His hand to help me stand, just as He dis to the woman who washed His feet with her tears and the men who lay crippled by the side of the waters of Bethesda or in a home on their bed. I, too, have fallen, too many times... and I can't rise alone. His hand is outstretched... but not to take away my struggle. To help me learn to stand, with Him as my strength. To help me realize that it takes more than faith to rise up and walk...to rise up and run from temptation... more than anything I could ever do alone. Maybe that's another meaning of the promises the Lord has given in the scriptures... That as I turn to Him, He will give me the strength to run and not be weary, and walk and not faint.
Tuesday, November 23
Blizzard
Wind, snow, swirling clouds and biting cold... And yet I look at the world and see the crystal snow, the beauty, the snow banks drifting across the road. It's amazing how life can change... when nothing on the outside is really any different. Yesterday I felt like dying. Today I have a new lease on life. Nothing has changed. Life is still going to be hard; the snow is still cold; and I know the pain will come back. But at least now I have one more battle won, one more mountain climbed, one more memory to hold as proof that God loves me and is involved in my life. Somehow the swirling, twisting clouds disappear... leaving behind a winter wonderland. I haven't yet seen the clearing of my own clouds, but with the passing of each tempest, I find I have greater strength to weather the coming of another storm.
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