Hour of Prayer

I gave a talk a few months ago in Church and since I haven't been on here much (for reasons I'll hopefully find a way to articulate later but largely have to do with being pregnant) I thought I would post it.  I had to edit some while on the stand for time and inspiration but I tried to update these so that my record would reflect the actual talk given as much as possible.  In any case, enjoy.


Hour of Prayer
by Megan K. Geilman


Introduction

When Brother Steven’s called me to ask me to speak it was right before I was going to begin my scripture study, which I thought was perfect timing. After I accepted he told me the topic was “Hour of Prayer.” I repeated it back to him “Hour of Prayer?” and he confirmed.

I thought this was an interesting topic to be asked to speak on-- “Hour of Prayer” because usually there’s a really broad subject like “prayer” or a practical question like “How can I get answers to my prayers.” And then I got literal and thought “Wow...have I ever actually had a whole entire hour of prayer?” No I haven’t...and then I felt bad because you know, really spiritual people probably have regular “hours of prayer,” right?

Collectively, yes, I’ve had many hours of prayer but I have definitely never had an Enos like extended period of meditation with the divine. I seem to connect more with the sentiment Adam Miller says in his recent book “Letters to a Young Mormon.” "When you pray," Miller writes, "the most important thing is to stay awake."

Luckily he continues: “The substance of a prayer is [a] willingness to remember, to heave your wandering mind back, once more, in the direction of God, and then, when it drifts off yet again, to heave it still another time."

And of course I thought of the hymn. I had it running through my head all day “sweet hour of prayer, sweet hour of prayer...” with the vague understanding that what the Bishop seemed to be signaling to me was that I was to perhaps reference and delve into the context of prayer: the hour, the place, the timing, the environment of communing with our Heavenly Father. What are our “hour(s) of prayer”? My scripture study didn’t seem to yield much nor did the tags I had collected the past couple years in my notebook on “prayer.” Regardless, I opened a document, added my title and there it sat for the rest of the day.

I figured I would start with someone who did have a few hours of prayer--Enos in the Book of Mormon. As the account reads, he prayed “all the day long...and when the night came [he] did still raise [his] voice…” So we’ve got a few hours of prayer to work with here.

And Enos says: “I will tell you of the wrestle which I had before God, before I received a remission of my sins.”

Now, fun fact about Megan: I participated on my high school’s wrestling team for two seasons, and I’m sure I looked as ridiculous as you can imagine me being on a wrestling team but it ended up being a great experience. In any case, I feel like I’ve always had a really personal connection to Enos’ description of his supplication--because I have spent some time literally wrestling other people for extended periods of time.

In wrestling, you have two opponents who face each other on a mat with a ring around it. The object is to stay in the ring on the mat, and to simultaneously try to pin your opponent’s back to the mat while not getting pinned yourself by your opponent. You can win by achieving this pin or by scoring points through escapes, takedowns, or reversals. You can also lose points by stalling or having unsportsmanlike roughness. It’s a very engaging sport--you don’t participate through any tools like a bat or a ball. You have to be there, in the moment, and you have to be in shape or you’ll get hurt.

Now we often mistake the account and read that Enos had a wrestle WITH God--but that’s not the case--he had a wrestle BEFORE God. In a word, he was wrestling with himself. While we are here on this earth, working to progress and become more like our Savior and to overcome the effects of the Fall, we are essentially having a continuous wrestling match between our divine nature and our natural man.

Now Enos was--and I think this is a huge takeaway-- having this wrestle so that he could “receive a remission of [his] sins.” I think this phrase is where some people have thought that Enos was perhaps a rebellious dude. I think that’s hardly the case.

To go back to my wrestling imagery, one of the players is the part of us that wants to do good and wants to be good, and the other player is the one that sometimes doesn’t want to live up to the standard--but even more common I think it’s side that doesn’t want to go through the wrestling process of repentance. The side of ourselves that wants to save ourselves. We want to fix all our sins on our own accord, we don’t want the help of the Savior or we don’t believe we are worthy of this help.

We often associate our divine nature as the side that to quote Isaiah wants to “hide our face from sin” but I think it’s actually our natural man that tries to ignore the parts of ourselves that need fixing, the things we need a Savior for. We hide our face from these things so we don’t have to deal with them, but in doing that we kind of miss the point of our time here on earth.

I think if Enos is to be considered rebellious, it’s in the way that we’re all rebellious--we are in constant need of repentance and it’s much easier in the short term to ignore our sins than to face up to them. The first step of repentance is always “recognition” because if we aren’t aware of something we don’t work to fix it. It’s easier to stay busy with “normal life” than to take the time to wrestle and repair our souls. As human beings, we don’t go to a doctor unless we know that we’re sick. And no one likes to realize that they’re sick--but we are--we are all fallen and we need a Savior.

And this is what I think is so remarkable about Enos’ “hour(s) of prayer”--that he took the time to wrestle with himself for a remission of his sins. He was willing to admit he has sins and then give up his pride and go through the repentance process. I don’t know if there is anything more admirable and worthy of respect than someone willing to go through the repentance process. To pin down the natural man and allow the Savior to take our sins upon Him. We don’t like to become aware of our weaknesses--yet it is only when we allow ourselves to do this, to wrestle with our weaknesses, that find redemption. That we can become changed, to eventually become holy:

Ether 12:27 “And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”

Contrast this with a quote from C.S. Lewis' “The Screwtape Letters” a fictional correspondence between two devils:

“You must bring him to a condition in which he can practice self-examination for an hour without discovering any of those facts about himself which are perfectly clear to anyone who has ever lived in the same house with him or worked in the same office.”

We win this wrestling match when give up our will for the Father’s in actually admitting our sins and using the Savior’s Atonement to change rather than attempting to change ourselves--an impossible and fruitless task.

Again from “The Screwtape Letters” the senior Screwtape counsels the junior devil Wormwood on the subject of prayer. He counsels that he can slow down progress of the subject by the subtle art of misdirection and making them believe they can change themselves. “The simplest is to turn their gaze away from Him (Jesus) towards themselves. Keep them watching their own minds and trying to produce feelings there by the action of their own wills. When they meant to ask Him for charity, let them, instead, start trying to manufacture charitable feelings for themselves and not notice that this is what they are doing. When they meant to pray for courage, let them really be trying to feel brave. When they say they are praying for forgiveness, let them be trying to feel forgiven.”

When we spend energy trying to change ourselves rather than humbling ourselves and allowing Christ to change our natures, we really slow down our progress in an effort to feel validated. We spin our wheels in self examination without ever actually getting anywhere. It is only through the Savior that we can put the rubber to the road.

Salvation is a process, and as King Benjamin says in the Book of Mormon: “that there shall be no other name given nor any other way nor means whereby salvation can come unto the children of men, only in and through the name of Christ, the Lord Omnipotent.”

When I went to bed that night I had not written anything and my thoughts and inclinations didn’t seem to point in any specific direction. I had had a vague feeling to reread Luke 22, which I had read the day before and remembered it specifically mentions Christ praying in the Garden of Gethsemane. As I reread the account, it struck me that what I really needed to speak on was THE hour of prayer. The most important hour of prayer to ever be prayed in the history of man.

The account of Luke reads:

41 And he was withdrawn from them about a stone’s cast, and kneeled down, and prayed,

42 Saying, Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done.

43 And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him.

44 And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground.

THIS hour of prayer, and the events surrounding it, are the only reason we have any hope to be saved from this world of care or from the tempter’s snare.

I want us to think about this specific and sacred hour of prayer as I reread the lyrics from the hymn “Sweet Hour of Prayer.” The hour when the Savior lay in agony, and as Alma states: “suffer[ed] pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind...tak[ing] upon him [our] infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy...that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people…” (Alma 7:11-12)

Sweet hour of prayer! Sweet hour of prayer!

That calls me from a world of care

And bids me at my Father's throne

Make all my wants and wishes known.

In seasons of distress and grief,

My soul has often found relief

And oft escaped the tempter's snare

By thy return, sweet hour of prayer!

When I started writing this talk I was sort of thinking how I could improve or possibly actually achieve an hour of prayer. What I realized in writing this talk is that I need, and might be more successful, if instead I focus more of my energy meditating on HIS prayer and HIS sacrifice for mankind, that prayer and ultimately his death and resurrection, and how through him, and only through him, I (and subsequently my prayers) can be changed.

Also, as this being Father’s day, I wanted to give a shout out to all the Father’s out there and thank you for all that you do and who you are. I’m grateful for my husband who is a wonderful father and for my own father, but most especially for my Heavenly Father. In the Bible Dictionary, the section on “Prayer” reads:

As soon as we learn the true relationship in which we stand toward God (namely, God is our Father, and we are His children), then at once prayer becomes natural and instinctive on our part (Matt. 7:7–11). Many of the so-called difficulties about prayer arise from forgetting this relationship. Prayer is the act by which the will of the Father and the will of the child are brought into correspondence with each other. The object of prayer is not to change the will of God but to secure for ourselves and for others blessings that God is already willing to grant but that are made conditional on our asking for them. Blessings require some work or effort on our part before we can obtain them. Prayer is a form of work and is an appointed means for obtaining the highest of all blessings.

Testimony and Close

The Parable of the Lost Coin

I've been honored to call Samantha my friend.  I honestly think she has the talent be the next Malcolm Gladwell (or THE Mormon Malcolm Gladwell).  She has a way of writing things succinctly and in a way even the most hardened heart can consider.  And she pretty much always says exactly what I'm thinking but makes it sound 10,000 times more cool.  This post originally appeared on her blog "Scarlett Called Scout" (she is also currently pregnant with a girl who she may name Scarlett and actually call "Scout"--so cute!) and made me immediately think of some of the knee-jerk reactions I hear about Mormon Feminism.  I've always been perplexed that more Mormons don't feel a very personal responsibility to go and find the lost sheep, or I think in too many cases, the lost coin.  Take it away, Sam...

By Samantha Strong Murphey

I was reading “Jesus the Christ” by James E. Talmage this morning and was struck by an old parable in a new way. There are three parables Christ tells, all in the same discourse, all along the same vein. There’s the parable of the lost sheep, the parable of the lost coin and the parable of the prodigal son. All three of them are essentially about feeling joy and gratitude when something lost has been recovered, but the second parable is distinctly different than the other two. I’ve never noticed that before. In the parable of the lost sheep and the parable of the prodigal son, what is lost has become so because it has wandered off of its own free will. But in the parable of the lost coin, what is lost has become so because of the carelessness of the caretaker. Here’s what Talmage has to say about it:

“The woman who by lack of care lost the precious piece may be taken to represent the theocracy of the time, and the Church as an institution in any dispensational period; then the piece of silver, every one a genuine coin of the realm, bearing the image of the great King, are the souls committed to the care of the Church; and the lost piece symbolizes the souls that are neglected and, for a time at least, lost sight of by the authorized ministers of the Gospel of Christ.”

Sometimes I think people forget that “the Church as an institutuion in any dispensational period” is capable of neglecting the care of certain souls. Sometimes it’s easier to believe that it’s the coin’s fault that it’s lost than it is to recognize that we could have something to do with it, or what’s more, that the Church leaders we look up to could have blind spots too. But the Savior seemed to understand that even the authorized ministers of His gospel are sometimes short-sighted, that even the most faithful are vulnerable to carelessness. The Savior seemed to know that the joy to be had in recovering those souls would sometimes come only when we accept our fault and open our eyes.


Samantha Strong Murphey is a lover of greenery, glitter and goat cheese, an advocate of media literacy, human rights and karaoke for all. She earned bachelor's degree in communications from Brigham Young University. Now, she works as a full-time freelance writer and blogger based in Atlanta, Georgia.

Dear Child

Dear Child,

I am mainly writing this letter out of sense of self preservation, but also some love.  SO much love.  I know there will come a point when you have become enough of an adult, that you will look back at your childhood with some degree of perspective.  I don't know how old you will be or where life will take you but I am almost certain this moment will happen, perhaps multiple times.  It may come when you are financially independent, or when you get married, or when you have children of your own, but it will come.  You will feel that because you can see the good and the bad at the same time that you can make a clear judgement on your childhood.  And you might be right.  It is in this moment, that I hope you read or remember this letter.

I write because there may be a time or times when you will assess the support we gave you as parents, with probably more clarity than we can, and you may feel more disappointment than gratitude.  You may feel that the net worth of your upbringing was negative rather than positive.  It may just be a brief moment or years of therapy but it will happen.

I believe it will happen because it has happened to me*, and it's happened to my parents, and I'm sure their parents...probably all the way back to those first parents.  It is perhaps the reason that generational superiority or the "generation gap" exists--the belief that you and your generation know better either because of social evolution or experience or both.

My father-in-law (your grandpa) has a wonderful philosophy about parenting he phrases in one sentence: "it's our job to move the ball forward."  To keep the proverbial ball of humanity in progress and getting better.  That each generation has the responsibility move forward, and not backward.  To get better, and not worse.  I like it, it's a very humble philosophy.  And since generational superiority is essentially pride falling out on both sides of the gap, I think humility is the only way we can attack this problem.  With humility, you can look back and trust they were doing the best they can with what they had AND you can look forward, knowing they probably won't do things the same way you did and that's okay, maybe even good.

At some moment in your life you will judge me and my actions against the progress humanity has made since you were a child.  All the knowledge and practice and "ball rolling forward" that has happened between your childhood and the birth of your own children.  And you will inadvertently hold that gap against me and your father.  You may recognize it and you may resist it but it will be there, a thorn in your consciousness, begging to be pulled out.

I am so certain that this is a universal coming of age because of a singular fact: parents are people and people are flawed.  The universality of human experience and the nature of fallen man.  Because of The Fall, we are all of us, mortally wounded and broken.

And while we trudge through this earthly, fallen realm we bear children.  Beautiful, perfect, flawless beings sent to our presence and stewardship, where it becomes mainly our responsibility to teach them right from wrong, good from evil.  It's a big job, and some of us shrink or fail, but most rise to the challenge and work to give you the best chance we can at a happy and successful life.  And we want so much good for you.

A parent's love for a child is undeniable and indescribable and is only limited by our own fallen natures.  The Savior understood this love and used it to teach and illustrate the love God has for us:

For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.  

Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone?

Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent?

If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him? (Matthew 7:8-11, emphasis added)

God, our Heavenly Father, wants so much to bless us and give us the kind of life He enjoys because of His immense love for us.  He sent us down to this earth, a mortal collegiate experience, so that we could learn to walk by faith, not sight.  To stumble like toddlers and provide help for us when we seek and ask for it.  His ultimate goal is for our happiness (Moses 1:39).  And like any good parent, He must set conditions on us receiving that happiness, lest He spoil us, His children.

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. (John 3:16)

And so child, please know that we tried our best.  We tried to set the right limits on your behavior at the right times AND give you the right freedoms at the appropriate moments so that you could learn and grow and become the person God wants you to be.  To help you use your agency to make good choices and become better.  A help to those around you more than a burden and a positive contribution to this little world of ours.

I hope above all you can forgive us, your parents.  Because the bad news is, of course, that we too are fallen.  We have most likely failed you in some small or large way.  There will be moments when you feel as though you've assessed everything and you are saddened by the conclusions you find.  It is in these moments, my dear sweet child, that I hope you remember the Savior.

The one perfect being sent by the one perfect parent to pay for all of us.  He suffered for the sins of all mankind so that we wouldn't have to.  He is the only one who can pull out the thorn of your resentment.  To give you the power to forgive.  And as long as we remember that we need the payment He offers as much as the thief, the murderer, and the rapist than we can find it in ourselves to forgive those who trespass us.  Even parents, who come to this job with every good intention.  

And so I hope you know this child.  I hope you know this because I will have tried to teach it to you as best I could, and I hope you can find it somewhere in your heart to forgive me.

Love,

Mom

*Mom and Dad if you read this, please know I really do think you're the greatest parents ever.  Love you!!!

It's an Extroverts Church: Part I

By Megan Licous Speer

I'd like to welcome our first guest post blogger: Megan Licous Speer. I met Megan by being her visiting teacher. I was a recently returned missionary myself and had an almost overbearing passion for visiting teaching.  I'm glad because this girl makes you work for her friendship--and boy does it pay off. She's major cool, fiercely loyal, hugely articulate, and a mega talented writer.  And her name is Megan.  I'm more of an extrovert so the social aspect of Church has been good to me, but I think it's important to hear different perspectives so we can help everyone have a positive church experience.  This post was originally posted on her blog "rawm" on February 24, 2014 as part one. Part II is posted here. 

To be righteous is to be social; this is the main thing I learned at church during my college years.

After my parents moved our family to Oregon when I was six, we had the good fortune of rooting and staying in the area for a very long time. LDS congregations are determined geographically, so I knew the same people at church, at school, and in the neighborhoods from the time I could remember to the time I left for college. Because of how comfortable I was, and because I rarely--if ever--had to engage someone I hadn't known pretty much all my life, I left for college having no idea that I was an introvert or that my religion was deeply social.

Megan is on the far right, with her arms crossed.

Obviously, churches are institutions, and are--by definition--social. Still, as churches go, the LDS church is peculiar. Where many religions have room for or even focus on private worship, LDS religious worship is almost exclusively social. I was thinking about this one day and wanted to make a list of all religious activities that are interpersonal. The ones I came up with are:

-all three hours of weekly church (sacrament meeting [partake of ordinance and general worship], Sunday school [scripture study], third hour [sex-specific and -divided meetings])
-prayer in familial and any other groups
-family and seminary or other group scripture study
-24/7 missions of predetermined length (assigned living arrangement with a stranger)
-all temple rituals, which are essential for exaltation
-all midweek activities (all organized by group [age and sex])
-all non-formal missionary work (interaction with friend, neighbor, co-worker, etc.)
-family home evening
-visiting and home teaching
-all additional young adult activities
-viewing general conference (culturally social)
-baptism and confirmation
-charitable service (culturally social)
-all formal repentance
-bearing of testimony
-receiving or giving patriarchal blessings
-receiving or giving priesthood blessings
-virtually all callings (organized, temporary church volunteer positions)
-exaltation (gifts from God based on worthiness, most importantly: living with and as Gods in family units)
-worthiness and other interviews

For sure, the degree to which each of these is social, and with whom exactly they are done, varies quite a bit, but it is either unusual or impossible to do any of them alone. Depending on the demographics of a member's area and living situation, they may have to go to a complete stranger for any of these hopefully personal, spiritual experiences. Compare these to the list of religious activities members can do alone:

-scripture study
-prayer
-genealogical research
-small acts of kindness
-receiving revelation and spiritual promptings
-paying tithing (unless paying with a spouse)
-journal-keeping (but often done with a purpose of sharing with others)
-salvation (gifts from God that come regardless of worthiness, namely immortality)
-pondering

Members are taught to make personal worship daily habit, but this is rarely discussed at length, and it doesn't stop there. In general, the church favors teachings on family, missionary work, and group service above solitary relationship with God, meditation, or progression. In an LDS meeting, the phrase "take a moment to think to yourself" is usually followed by, "now turn to your side and share with your neighbor." The scriptures--even some of the most famous passages--talk about retiring to your closet or going into the wilderness alone to ponder, repent, and strive, but this is not emphasized in lessons. While it is mentioned that the Savior often went up into the mountains alone to think and meditate, it is always emphasized that He never turned away any who sought after Him (which they invariably did), I assume because His apostles wished to emphasize His selflessness over His personal worship style or personality traits.

Group activities are given much more emphasis than individual activities that are elevated in other religions; for example, it is generally unacceptable to skip church meetings to ponder and study alone. Even the idea of dedicating the Sabbath to personal worship after regular meetings is suspect; at times, I have asked to have auxiliary church meetings I attend held during the week, rather than on Sunday, so that I could focus on personal worship and being with my family, but it has always been very poorly received or completely side-eyed and denied. Sunday, it seems, is--rather than a day of rest--a day given to members to perform all of their religious, social duties.

Socializing is not bad and introverts enjoy socializing, mainly when their batteries are full and it's on a personal, no-nonsense, deep conversational level that is rarely reached in LDS religious group settings. In a religion with a compulsory social schedule and agenda, with heavy moral implications attached, introverts find themselves inching by and leaving meetings as soon as they end, sometimes feeling guilty or being questioned for it later. "We go even when we don't want to go" is what my mom often told me and my brothers when it came to church duties, and I wonder now if that was advice from an introvert to her replicated introverts as much as it was from a dutiful church member to her children.

In some ways, this focus on the social respects and speaks to the quiet intimacy of spiritual experience, allowing members to focus their time together on edifying one another in mind, spirit, heart, perception, and understanding. Some social aspects of the church are entirely redeeming: things are done by common consent, members serve as volunteers in different capacities, and members know they will have a ward family to support them no matter where they go. At a time, though, when psychologists believe extroversion and introversion are based in biology, culturally steering religious experience toward extroverts, rather than introverts, makes about as much sense as steering religious experiences more toward men than women.

Despite all of this, introverts can win in the ways that matter to them: by reading the lessons in advance and making personal reflection a precursor to meetings; by sharing powerful, personal insights as speakers or teachers; and, when needed, by working to find the spirit within the noise.

I arrived at college to an instant, geographically determined network of people I was supposed to automatically like, spend time with, support religiously, socially, and academically, as well as be around 24/7. It didn't take long to realize that religion and spirituality were different than what I thought they were, and the self-discovery and struggle that have followed have become invaluable to me.

Megan Nield Speer grew up in Hillsboro, Oregon, graduated in 2012 with a BA in English from Brigham Young University, and currently works for the university and as a freelance writer. Her current focuses include postmodernism, film, feminism, LDS culture, holistic living, and online outreach. She and her husband, Samuel, enjoy collaborating on artistic and social projects.

Getting My Artist On

Recently I decided to participate in a game of artist's telephone.  The event was hosted by an artist's troupe called "Satellite Collective" based in Michigan and New York City.  I'd never heard of them but I saw several friend's posting about the game on Facebook and decided to apply.  I was accepted and already had an idea for an artwork after I successfully pulled off our Family Christmas Photo.  I knew I wanted to do an image about The Fall using my Sister and her husband, exploring the dilemma in partaking of the fruit.  Sometimes I just have to get my artist on, you know?

When I got my assigned artwork that was to inspire my piece, I knew it would totally mesh with my Adam and Eve.  It was a poem by an artist from London about transcendence, personal journey, and obvious use of chiasmus:

I had a month to complete the artwork.  I spent most of the month taking a little time here and there to research and flesh out my ideas in order to communicate them.  You'll see influences of Mormon theology and cultural ideas, traditional Adam and Eve narratives, the Arnolfini Wedding, the Smithsonian George Washington Statue, and Ka Statues of Ancient Egypt.  I scheduled with my models (Sister and Brother-in-law) and photographer (my Dad).  I made lists of everything I would need to borrow or buy or collect to have in the photo.  I tried to plan out everything so the day of would go smoothly.  Art for me is a sort of problem to solve or puzzle to piece, and doing these sorts of photographs gives me a lot of satisfaction in completing and getting as close to what I have in my head as possible out in the physical world. 

Serendipitously, the lesson in Relief Society yesterday was on the fall and creation and the teacher shared this wonderful quote by Vida D. Scudder: "Creation is a better means of self-expression than possession; it is through creating, not possessing, that life is revealed."  My art and my religion have always gone very hand in hand.

It took most of the day, much like my Christmas photo, but I'm 91.7% happy with the results.  For a perfectionist, I think that's a good level of satisfaction.

I emailed the photo this morning, the day of the deadline, and the head curator emailed me back very happy with the results:

Dear Megan,

Wow! This is absolutely splendid! What a beautiful interpretation of the work that you were assigned and such a great translation of the message contained in the piece preceding your own. Bravo! Seriously, this kind of made me tear up a bit and I think you'll be blown away when you see the originating message (many messages before your own).

We'll be certain to keep you updated as Telephone continues to make progress but, for now, you have our very deepest gratitude for playing with us.


Highest regards to you,

Nathan Langston

The little artist teacher's pet inside of me was very, very happy.

Special thanks to my husband, my parents, and my models.  Here's my latest artwork, titled "Adam's Dilemma" and is an allegorical depiction of the moment after Eve decided and partook of the fruit, but before Adam did.

"Adam's Dilemma" by Megan Knobloch Geilman

"And now, behold, if Adam had not transgressed he would not have fallen, but he would have remained in the garden of Eden. And all things which were created must have remained in the same state in which they were after they were created; and they must have remained forever, and had no end.

And they would have had no children; wherefore they would have remained in a state of innocence, having no joy, for they knew no misery; doing no good, for they knew no sin.

But behold, all things have been done in the wisdom of him who knoweth all things.

Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy."  -- 2 Nephi 2:22-25

Happy Birthday to Me: A Post on Motherhood and Perfectionism

Yesterday was my birthday.  28.  Wow.  I don't think I ever imagined being 28.  It leaves this year feeling vaguely open and mildly exhilarating.

This is also the first birthday where I am a mother.

I mean really, it doesn't get much better than that.

Now, I have been blessed with one of the sweetest, most well-tempered and easy babies I think in existence.  He takes his naps and (finally) sleeps through the night and eats with only a reasonable
amount of mess and smiles and plays and is healthy.  I love being a Mom.  Pretty much the greatest thing a parent can ask for is a healthy, happy baby. Having said all this, parenthood is it's own crazy, wild ride.  Children are largely unpredictable and irrational.  They are complex algorithms with ever changing variables.  They bring a greater range of emotion than previously known--there is so, so much more joy, but there is also the potential for so much more pain.  And you can't weight your options before you take the plunge--it is a leap of faith in the truest sense of the word.  I was trepidatious about the rigors of motherhood and becoming a mother myself because I also suffer from perfectionism.  I had always wanted to be a momma, but life's experiences had made me cautious.

Perfectionism is defined as "a disposition to regard anything short of perfection as unacceptable; especially : the setting of unrealistically demanding goals accompanied by a disposition to regard failure to achieve them as unacceptable and a sign of personal worthlessness."  A lot of people could blame my Mormon upbringing as to how I contracted this disease, or religion in general but I think it's just one aspect of the human condition: everyone has it to some degree.  Perfectionism isn't about competition, it's not about being better than someone else, it's about being the best you can be.  And sometimes that pressure can lead to depression or other neurotic behaviors.  If it was just Mormons or Christians who suffer from perfectionism, we wouldn't live in a world where there is a thing called Karoshi (the Japanese term for literally working yourself to death) or The Mommy Wars.  It's a symptom of the modern age, and if you ask my parents they will tell you I just came packaged this way.

My entire life I've felt like it was my job to save the world, and any attempts to either live fully to my personal expectations or just "fuggedaboutit" have left me gasping for air, for I am no Atlas (or Donnie Brasco for that matter).  Sometimes feeling like I'm carrying the weight of the world has led me down paths of great despair and depression, and much of my late teens and early twenties were marked with bouts of varying degrees with occasional interventions of medication and counseling.  The last five years have been a wonderful reprieve, feeling I've gotten a bit of a handle on things using a combination of Vitamin D and Jesus.  Also repeating early and often: "you can't do everything, but you can do something."  A dollar to this charity, a kind word to a friend, taking care of my baby: I try to focus on what I'm doing rather than what seems to be falling outside of my grasp.

I also met a man who shares a lot of my same world views which has allowed me to feel I can share the burden.  He too is quite a perfectionist and I wonder if it's not a genetic malady since I already see traces of it in our son.  We've also had a great amount of success in helping the other keep their perfectionism in check: sharing strategies, cheering each other on, and just talking through things.

Despite all this progression, becoming a mother has given me a combination of feeling a greater responsibility to make a better world for the next generation, and a fearlessness I have never known.  This combination, the internet, and my personal belief system has led me to recently think I have the audacity to actually make the world a better place.  Ether 12:4 in the Book of Mormon:

"Wherefore, whoso believeth in God might with surety hope for a better world, yea, even a place at the right hand of God, which hope cometh of faith, maketh an anchor to the souls of men, which would make them sure and steadfast, always abounding in good works, being led to glorify God."

There are days when I love my perfectionism--it's made me a better student, a better employee, a better wife and mother, a better artist, a better Mormon, and a better person.  Being a perfectionist gives you great satisfaction with getting things done.  All the world's great movers and shakers were perfectionists--who wouldn't want to rub shoulders with those folks?  And since I'm a generally happy person with a laid back attitude, you'll only begin to notice my perfectionism up close.  Unless you happen to catch me when I'm having a bad day, or a bad year.  I am sincerely grateful to my friends and family who have stuck by me despite my myriad quirks, emotionality, and sometimes overbearing passion.

But there are days when I just wish I could not care so much.  Perfectionism means never being satisfied with yourself.  Perfectionism can be debilitating and easily mistaken for laziness--I've collectively spent many hours just spaced out trying to solve my personal problems or issues of the world.  I forget things, I'm a self proclaimed space cadet.  It makes it hard to commit to things for fear that you won't be reliable or something will fall through the cracks.  Analysis Paralysis is my middle name, but I also thrive on organization.  

Perfectionism makes it easy to judge people who don't seem to be trying as hard at life as you are.  It takes a lot of effort to maintain a consistent personality so that I can make and keep friends (people don't like it when you step out of the box that they've put you in).  It's hard to speak my mind when I see two sides to every argument.  Note: Mitt wasn't a flip-flopper, he was a perfectionist (and a moderate) but that is another post for another day.  In my world everybody is right and everybody is wrong at the same time.  I can see how every action both helps and hurts.

Perfectionism can sometimes feel like noblesse oblige on steroids.  People think you're self righteous.  In a word, it's exhausting.  The only difference between a Perfectionist and a control freak is the former tries to do so without seeming, whilst always checking their intentions and outcomes.  Sometimes I feel I must be the only person who has 17 moral dilemmas before lunch time.  Some days it's hard to tell if being a perfectionist is an aspect of the natural man or my divine nature as a child of God.  In any case, I'd love to have just a day when I could not feel like I'm carrying an angry minotaur ready to jump out and devour my whole life.  A day when I just didn't care.  A day when I don't feel I have to manage something within myself.

If you deal with perfectionism, it's easy to see why people self-medicate.  It is also why I love watching TV.

So this year I decided for my birthday I was going to give myself a day off: a day free of actual or lingering guilt.  A "mental health day" that wasn't preceded by a breakdown.  A day free of the little voice of shame saying that I'm not enough: not doing enough, not being enough, not fixing enough.  A day where I don't worry about the rest of the world.  A day with just me and my little family.  A day where I didn't berate myself for not getting things done: the laundry (I wasn't even going to DO the laundry!), the dishes cleaned (I would leave them in the sink!), my church calling, my work, or feeling a responsibility to fix the problem of sex slavery in the United States.  I'll take on the rest of the world next week.

By eleven o'clock I gave up.  The energy it took to try and not think about those things was way more energy than I wanted to spend on what now seemed like a fruitless quest.  Not to mention it was stressing me out.

I decided to get out of the house.  Walking has been therapy for me for many years, but I left the stroller in the car and the car was with my husband at work.  There's a small park near my house I often take the baby to play in the grass and get some sunlight.  I grabbed the little guy and left my phone and computer (which kept pinging with Facebook birthday notifications--oh if only my high school self could see me now!) and worries behind.

The thing about your thoughts is that they are not so easily shed as a coat, or your keys, or your phone. A great quote is from Wallace Wattles, whose only legacy to the world might just be this quote, goes as follows: “There is no labor from which most people shrink as they do from that of sustained and consecutive thought. It is the hardest work in the world.”

As my worries and thoughts and stresses crept up I started to get frustrated.  I felt the feelings of despair creep from behind the curtain.  The thoughts that can easily drag me into a downward spiral of depression and anxiety.  I tried to focus on my son: his sweet chubby hands palming at the grass.  His cute marble eyes squinting when they flipped upwards.  His "hair feathers" blowing in the wind.  I let myself feel proud for letting him eat a leaf but not a cigarette butt.  I watched him pull himself to standing and then start let go: he is figuring out how to walk!  I felt that rush of joy only a parent knows in seeing your child accomplish something new.  He was standing!  I called out: You're standing!  You're standing!  You're learning to walk!  We exchanged proud smiles and then as quickly as it began it was over.  He plopped down and started crawling again.  But while my son seemed to instantly find satisfaction and distraction in eating leaves I grew frustrated: why can't I feel that joy all the time, whenever I just look at him?  Why does it take so much work to feel like I'm loving him?

And then my years of training myself to dispute my own thoughts kicked in:  because if you felt this way all the time you wouldn't appreciate it, it's a gift more than an accomplishment.  Don't get frustrated with yourself, look how far you've come.  And it's true: learning to manage my perfectionism has meant developing the ability to walk a mental tightrope: if I do too little with my time, I feel worthlessness.  Too much and I'm overwhelmed.  I'm doing better to walk by faith, and not by fear.  I continued to cajole myself: Do your best to relax, soak in the sun.

I moved over to the other side of my baby so that I could face that great fiery ball in the sky.  I lifted my face and closed my eyes to it's warmth and power, another strategy I've developed over the years to help me cope with life.  Face the Sun, I repeated to myself.  Face the Son.  Vitamin D and Jesus.

I thought about the Sun and the Son.  The Sun is fiery miasma of incandescent plasma with the power to kill us all if the atmosphere gets too thin.  They both give light and life to the whole world.  The Savior was perfect and complete, our redeemer and exemplar.  I'm fairly certain he was filled with a deep passion (THE passion) we can't even begin to fathom (although I don't think His rampage in the temple is quite the excuse for righteous indignation I've heard people cite too often).  He is the only person for whom we can honestly say, "He has done no wrong."  His sacrifice for me is pretty much the only reason I am able to get up and out of bed in the morning.  His is the only hope I have for any happiness in my life.

"I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly" (John 10:10)

I too have this fire in me I can't seem to squelch.  Attempts to do so have led me easily and quickly to a melt-down and an inevitable "bad day."  On good days I figure I'm not supposed to root this out of my being--that it was given to me for a reason and I should use it for good.  I'm learning to embrace my perfectionism and channel it for betterment.  Over the years and through many, many experiences of trial and error I've gotten better at honing that fire into a blow torch full of utility rather than the destructive potential of a forest fire.  I'm slowly getting better.  I hope someday I can feel like it's not so much work to be happy, especially since I've been blessed with a truly fantastic life.  The guilt that so many in the world do not have the blessings and resources that I do is part of that daily, crushing burden.

Back at the park, I scoop up my son and wrap him in my arms.  As we turn to head back home and face the rest of the day I look up one final time.  Soaking up the last drops of optimism I can glean from it's rays, I think to myself: Yes, I am learning to walk too.

Dear Struggling Missionary

To anyone who has ever winced when hearing the words "The Best 2 Years."

Recently I was talking with a woman at Church about her son who is serving a stateside LDS mission.  He has been struggling and she explained a bit exasperatedly how "no one ever tells them how hard it really is!"  After I commiserated and described briefly some of the struggles on my own mission she asked if I wouldn't mind writing to him.  I agreed and later realized that other missionaries, returned missionaries, or friends or parents of either might benefit from my words and decided to turn it into a blog post.  It has taken 5 years to finally come to full and complete peace about my mission experience.  As I've leaned on the Savior I've been able to stumble onward, contemplating his great sacrifice and using my experience to help others along the way.  I can testify of the words of Elder Holland: "It is only an appreciation of this divine love that will make our own lesser suffering first bearable, then understandable, and finally redemptive."  It is only since he gave that talk have I felt comfortable talking about my mission publicly.



Dear Struggling Missionary,

Mormon missions are seen as a seminal moment between youth and adulthood--a transition and a rite of passage, and rightly so.  The rigors of a mission alone can incur the phrase "they leave boys and they come home men."  But not all missions go as expected, and this can be an added burden to an already intense experience.  So, to those who may be struggling or did struggle, it is to you--my comrades in the gospel--that I address my remarks.

I know what you're thinking: How did I get here?  What is wrong with me?  How did this happen?

Nothing is wrong with you.  You are right where you are supposed to be, but I'll try to explain a bit how it happened.  I'll begin with a brief history of Missionary Work.

Once upon a time there was no missionary work as we now call it.  There was a time where there were no missionary badges, or ties, or skirts, or white handbooks.  God spoke to Prophets and they spoke to their families and that was about it.  The Priesthood was passed down through bloodlines from Father to Son through the Levitical order.  Fun fact: apparently this is still going on if you are a Jew and your last name happens to be Cohen.  Don't ask me any more on that, that's all I know.  I assume this is a big reason why it was important to marry in the covenant (see Deuteronomy 7:1-6).  Eventually you could be adopted into the House of Israel and the Priesthood was passed down through the laying on of hands, to be "called of God, as was Aaron" (see Hebrews 5:4). About the same time, Peter (the Prophet at the time) and the Apostles were commanded by Jesus to "Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost” (Matthew 28:18-19).  Missionary work had begun.

First stop: the Gentiles.  That was a major change from the way things had been done--the Jews were the chosen people, remember?  But kind of important if God is supposed to love ALL of his children and Jesus is a big part of that love (see John 3:16).  Luckily Peter got the message about going to the Gentiles and then things started to pick up, spreading the gospel to the surrounding regions.

At first it was just some guys in robes and sandals, repeating what Jesus had said and collecting followers along the way.  This created lots of little congregations all over the place who sometimes had their own ideas about how things should be run, hence why we have the 2nd half of the New Testament (mostly Paul writing to them trying to keep things in order). Eventually things kinda fell apart (don't worry, it was prophesied--see Isaiah 24:5, Amos 8:11-12, Matthew 24:4-14, Acts 20:28-30, 2 Timothy 3:1-5, 14-15; 4:3-4) and the Apostles were all killed and the Priesthood was lost to the earth for a time.

Don't worry, this had happened before, that's why we have lots of different religions--without a Prophet, people start interpreting scripture in their own way...kind of chaotic, I know.  Nice people I'm sure but it's caused a lot of confusion over the years.  If you're an LDS missionary I'm guessing you already understand this, just wanted to elaborate for anyone else listening in.

Skip ahead to Joseph Smith.  New Prophet called.  Priesthood restored through heavenly messengers.  Missionary work back on!

The Lord starts sending out people alone or in pairs to go preach the gospel (see a bunch of sections in the Doctrine and Covenants).  At first they don't take money or script and traveled on foot like the New Testament missionaries but that probably only worked for a bit until people stopped being so nice to missionaries and cars and airplanes were invented.  117,456 (just a guesstimate here) revelations of differing significance later we have straight laced young men (and now lots of women!) in white shirts and ties with name tags and MTCs and area books and a whole (mostly) well-oiled machine of streamlined missionary work.  To study (or experience) the whole process is a fascinating endeavor.

Somewhere along the line (and this is not hard to figure out with most of the workforce being 19 year old hormonally charged boys living on their own for possibly the first time) there came mission rules.  Mission rules (aka "The White Handbook") are a product of Correlation--a period in the Church's history when things were organized in a business-like fashion so that it was ACTUALLY possible to bring the gospel to the ENTIRE world.  It's a big job and the best framework we had available was multi-national corporations.  God works with what he has: people--us bumbling mortals, this is not new.  Revelation is a complex process so out of any decision we can usually see how things are both divinely inspired but also based on man-made constructs.  Inspiration is based on information, we believe in things being organized from previous matter--not something from nothing.  This has no bearing on the divinity of the work.

Anyway, an unfortunate by-product of this is that there has to be a TON of rules.  There are rules that govern and dictate pretty much every aspect of your existence as a missionary.  This can get a wee bit stifling.  You have virtually no coping mechanisms available except the scriptures--which can sometimes be a good thing, but personally (and what I understand about agency) I think it's not the best way.  Right now our missionary program is sub-optimal.  As Elder Tom Perry iterated in the special conference, "Hastening the Work" that up until now we have been working hard, but now we need to work smart.  To me, this means the physical, spiritual, emotional and mental well being of our missionary work force.  To continue, an unfortunate by-product of so many rules and a culture which HEAVILY encourages obedience to said rules is sort of a Pre-New Testament existence.  Missions can very easily operate in a Mosaic law sort of sphere.

The Mosaic law or "lower law" was what the Lord had to give to the children of Israel in order to prepare them for Christ's coming. He wanted to give the higher law (see Exodus 32:19-20) but we just weren't ready for it.  Humans were barely ready for it when Christ came--a big reason they killed Jesus is because they didn't like what he was saying.  Anyway, the religious world up until the meridian of time was operating under this complex structure of rules and hierarchies that created a lot of different sects within Judaism--the Pharisees, the Sadducees, etc.  They had interpreted the words of the prophets in different ways and felt very strongly about what they had read.  The Pharisees were the ones that believed in being saved by the law--they had LOTS of rules: rules for sabbath day observance, rules for what you could and couldn't eat, rules for dealing with sinners.  Jesus came and spoke and taught and didn't seem to care what they thought about those rules.  He was a man of perfect principle.

This upset the Jews because they were very proud of how good they were at following the rules.  They were harsh on those that didn't seem to keep up with their righteousness, they could be cruel to them who didn't fit in with their way of thinking.  This can very, very easily happen on a mission.

When you leave on your mission EVERYONE has advice which they heap down on you in glorious abundance.  It can be overwhelming but generally people mean well.  One of my friends though, all she said was "don't judge your trainer."  She said it several times.  "Don't judge your trainer."  For some reason it stuck with me.

When I got out into the field I had a wonderful trainer whom I adored.  We were both artists and we bonded quickly, serving in a collection of small farm towns in Illinois.  She showed me the ropes: we knocked on doors, we planned every night, we called people, we taught lessons and asked people to keep commitments.  I was working hard and doing missionary work and loving it.  My trainer however had been out seven months and would sometimes get stomach aches.  We would have to stop our work and come home so she could rest.  This was hard.

I was a new greenie, an exuberant missionary who was a ball of impetuous energy with the most exciting message in the world to tell.  I was on "fire" as they say.  And we had to come home?  And do nothing?  I was patient but I struggled.  Every time I wanted to get frustrated with my trainer, whose stomach aches sometimes came at convenient times or they would magically clear up when something interesting was happening, I would remember the words of my friend: "Don't judge your trainer."  Even when we went to the Doctor and her tests would come back inconclusive on suggested maladies I decided out of sheer will to give her the benefit of the doubt.  To this day I never regret my decision--and I still choose to believe her (note: missions are hard, your body breaks down and there's not much room for rejuvenation, it happens).  The work never seemed to suffer and our companionship thrived in unity.  The words of Doctrine and Covenants 3:3 ring true: "Remember, remember that it is not the work of God that is frustrated, but the work of men."

Fast forward several months and my mission reality as compared to the expectations I had when I came out were of vast difference and painted two, very different, pictures.

My expectation was filled with the stories of missionaries who had gone before: great spiritual strength and triumph, intense bonding with companions over helping the people of your mission (who you loved with all your heart) as they come to know their Savior more.  Wonderful testimony building and faith promoting and friendship making of the highest quality and caliber--stories to fill a lifetime.  I imagined coming home a better, stronger, more faithful, more graceful, and of course more marriageable me.  Going on my mission was an act of great sacrifice for me in all aspects and I had faith that the blessings would far outweigh the things I had to give up.  I was subverting my will for the will of the Lord and I humbly expected that great things would come of it, as they had in times before.  They have (oh boy they have), but not in the way I expected.

The only trials I expected as a missionary were those of tough companions (every one has a story of a hard companion), moments of defeat when an investigator doesn't keep their commitments, and the rigors of mission life:  strange food, homesickness, and hard work.  I had had some bouts of insomnia and a single case of depression before I left but both I felt had been cleared up and had faith that the Lord would carry me through if things turned out otherwise.

The first few months of my mission fit this script and nothing got me down.  I forged onward, I made errors along the way, but my missionary heart burned with a fervor I had never felt in my life.  I was willing to spread the gospel as much as possible, without regard to other people (truly a mistake), come hell or high water.  Well, hell and high water did come and I have learned, to say the least, a lot.

About halfway through my mission the picture my mission reality painted was thus:  I was a tired, stressed out, maxed out, sick, over weight and depressed missionary.  For all intents and purposes I should have gone home.  I had major insomnia problems (I would go DAYS without sleeping), I was on medication and seeing a counselor for severe seasonal depression, and my diet was all out of sorts since historically the mid-west is not known for it's healthy eating habits and I was at the mercy of members for meals.  I never felt "on top of things" with P-day being the only day available to take care of personal matters, and there were little to no coping mechanisms available: I couldn't call my mom, I couldn't go to the movies, I couldn't read a book or watch TV or even go for a run or a walk by myself just to clear my head.  I understood why all these rules were in place and I respected them and had I not been a missionary there wouldn't be issue, but as they say I was "not in Kansas anymore."  I was a missionary and I wanted ever so badly to be a good one.

Also, within a 2 week period at around the middle of my mission I had four, you could even say a series of, unfortunate events happen.  I found out in a most shocking and unexpected way during an interview that my mission president thought I was being rebellious during the entire first half of my mission, citing things I had said or done completely out of context or had not even happened.  My dear companion (it seems the only thing that didn't go wrong on my mission was thankfully, the quality of my companions) was being transferred.  I had been suffering from and attempting to treat maladies for the past 8 months on an embarrassing part of my body which now required surgery.  And my most dear investigator, a sweet and sincere older woman who lived alone and also suffered from depression, had committed suicide.  I was devastated to say the least.  Oh and the family threatened to blame us legally since we were the only ones visiting her on a regular basis and talked to her about her deceased husband, whom she missed greatly.  Thankfully, no charges were filed.

To make matters worse I was in a mission that suffered from serious issues with gossip.  To this day (despite many hours worth of rumination) I have wondered where it started, where it went wrong, and what I could have done to prevent it--but I somehow got a reputation for being a "bad missionary."  A rebel, an apostate, a rule-breaker.  Now to be clear, I am most definitely a free spirit, but I am no rebel.  This girl is and has always been "a teacher's pet" even and often to a fault.  I never skipped curfew or snuck out or broke rules.  I got good grades and read books and went to summer school to get ahead.  I was "a good girl" as they say.  So to be branded as anything else was a completely new experience and one that I was completely unprepared for, especially within my dear community of Mormonism.  And to illustrate the extent of this branding I once overheard a Stake leader visiting our ward say to his counselor: "She doesn't look like a troublemaker."

The thing about people having a certain idea about you is that even if you try to correct it, it will only affirm what they have already decided.  The more I tried to correct people's assumptions about me the more it was seen as a defensive strategy.  It was frustrating and hard to say the least and to this day I have to work very hard at not caring what I think others are thinking about me and use the Spirit and people I trust as my metric for life.  Throughout the ordeal and the five years after I returned from my mission I've had to fight the feelings of bitterness and resentment that can come through painful experiences where people did not act the way they should have (myself included).  I fight those feelings no more.  I don't know if it's that I've slowly and finally gained perspective or that I'm just better equipped to only care what God thinks of my actions.  Regardless, I feel that now my job is to use my experience to help other's who may have struggled or are currently struggling within my community.

In the midst of my struggles I turned to the scriptures since that's where I had been taught (and was teaching others) to find answers. I was searching for knowledge on how to be a more obedient (and by mission logic a more effective) missionary. I went to the New Testament since we are raised with the understanding that part of Christ's mission was to be our greatest exemplar in a addition to His Atoning sacrifice. What I found was unexpected but not unsurprising: Jesus was a rebel. He was completely obedient to the Godhood (Luke 2:49 and John 5:19) but didn't give a lick if anyone thought he was somehow acting contrary.

The mosaic law was meant as a way to point people towards the Savior, simply because it was impossible to follow all the commandments all the time.  Mission rules, I argue, should be viewed the same way.  They should be seen as important to follow, but as much as they are preached to be followed, we should always add important messages about the Atonement. As Paul said: "for the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life" (2 Corinthians 3:6).

During those dark hours at the meridian of my mission I was humbled enough to get a blessing from one of my Zone Leaders.  A blessing is a Mormon practice where a Priesthood holder lays his hands on your head and speaks words of inspiration from God.  They can be faith filled experiences where the man pronouncing the blessing says things that are only known to you and God or a healing miracle is performed.  I have had many spiritual experiences with blessings.  In that blessing I needed to know from God if I was supposed to go home, if these trials beyond the normal rigors of missionary work were meant to humble me into another path God had for me, if it was simply my pride that was keeping me on my mission.  I don't remember the exact words of the blessing but in it He said that I was to stay on my mission.  I knew in my heart it was true.

Somehow, and I am convinced it was only in and through the grace of God, I was able to continue working as a missionary--doing my personal and companion studies, getting out the door, knocking on the doors of others, planning and teaching lessons, counting numbers, and strengthening the members.  I don't think a single day of the rest of my mission I looked or acted like a tip-top missionary and a single moment when I didn't feel like I was living up to my potential, but I kept working.  Did I always (or ever) actually get up at 6:30am and do my exercises and get ready on time to do my studies at the appointed time?  No.  But I kept working.  Did I spend all day teaching a ton of well-planned, well-executed lessons and share testimony whenever possible?  No.  But I kept working.  Was I rewarded with lots of baptisms?  No.  But I kept working.  Did I come to truly love the people of my mission?  Mostly, but not perfectly.  But despite my shortcomings and regardless of wanting dearly to be doing anything other than traditional missionary work in that whole 2nd half of my mission, I kept working.  Was everything fine and dandy when I got home and blessings were instantly rained down upon my head?  No.  But I kept working.  Did I get married and live happily ever after within 6 months of getting home?  No.  But I kept working.  I am still working.

Now you may ask yourself, especially if you're not a Mormon or person of conviction, why I decided to believe that blessing.  It is because I truly and sincerely know the Church is true.  I know Joseph Smith was and is a Prophet of God.  I know the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is being lead by Jesus Christ.  It is His Church on the earth today.  The Bible and the Book of Mormon are the word of God.  I know God loves all of His children.  I know the Gospel of Jesus Christ and His Atonement have the ability to change lives.  These are non-negotiables in my book.  And whenever I have sided with my testimony, or the things I know to be true, things have always worked out for the better.  Always.

I shared briefly the travails of my mission simply to let you know that as much as I know the Church is true, I know that missions are hard.  I also know that missions are harder for those who are struggling.  And I know that missions are even harder still for those who are struggling who many people believe are struggling because of disobedience or unfaithfulness on their part.  And since I know this, to all who may do anything to hinder the work of a missionary, whether member or missionary or otherwise, I say with all the love of Elder Uchtdorf: "Stop it."

We need to trust that our missionaries are doing the best they can.  We need to all help keep mission rules (and I would add commandments) in proper perspective.  And perhaps most importantly, we need to trust that Missionaries need the Atonement as much as the rest of us.  May the work continue forward and fill the whole earth, every nook and cranny of as many hearts willing to listen to our message.

God speed Elders and Sisters.



Sincerely,

Sister Knobloch


Here are some suggestions if you or someone you know is struggling on a mission or if you just want to be a better missionary or missionary helper yourself.

- Acknowledge the pain and the hardship.  Don't swipe it away or see them (or yourself) as weak.  This situation leads easily to despair and doubt about abilities.  And please don't say "forget yourself and go to work" unless you know the entire story behind that quote and the letter it came from.  It is a much more encouraging tale than simply the above statement.  Just because I'm at peace about my mission experience, does not mean I do not still bear physical and emotional scars from the experience.  Someone trying to trivialize my experience does not make those scars easier to bear.

- Missionaries--make sure you really are doing the best you can (and seek feedback from the Lord) and try to be patient with those who are helping you.  Listen and obey the Spirit.  Pace yourself, you're running a marathon not sprinting a lap.  An 18-24 month marathon with no vacation or holidays.

- Forgive, forgive, forgive.  In my missionary scriptures I had written in one of the beginning blank pages the phrase: "Should I not spare Ninevah?"  This comes from the story of Jonah and the Whale.  We all hear about the whale part of the story but that's it.  Jonah is a powerful story about repentance and forgiveness.  As a struggling missionary you may feel like Jonah--a young person sent on a mission by God to preach repentance and God's message.  At any time your investigators or the members or other missionaries may seem to (or actually) be thwarting you in that effort.  Jonah was sent to preach to the people of Ninevah but the people are wicked and refuse to listen.  He runs away, has the ordeal with the whale, and then is humbled but doesn't completely repent: he doesn't want to forgive and preach to the people of Ninevah.  The people had repented and were ready to listen but Jonah was angry and bitter and didn't want to continue on his journey.  In the 4th chapter of Jonah, the young prophet is sitting angrily on a hill overlooking the city, waiting and expecting God to destroy it--perhaps in some epic Noah-like fashion.  When the Lord refuses to comply, Jonah is angry with God.  The Lord then uses a gourd to illustrate his love to Jonah for all his creations and then with the what I imagine the love only a (heavenly) father could muster, God says "And should I not spare Ninevah?"  (Jonah 4:11).  That phrase helped me remember that just as I hoped to receive forgiveness of my mistakes as a missionary and as a human, I needed to grant that to everyone else I came in contact with.  At times this was, and still is, a difficult endeavor--but it is well worth it.

- Companions and fellow missionaries.  Be patient and have faith that the Lord's work will not be stopped.  I came out expecting to have hard companions and ended up being the hard companion.  No one wants to be a burden.  Listen closely and remember ALL the words of that great missionary section, Doctrine and Covenants 4: "And faith, hope, charity and love, with an eye single to the glory of God, qualify him for the work. Remember faith, virtue, knowledge, temperance, patience, brotherly kindness, godliness, charity, humility, diligence." (Verses 5 and 6).  Do your best darndest not to judge, I promise you won't regret it.

- A return to principle based missionary work.  Joseph Smith, when asked why his followers were so obedient said: "I teach them correct principles, and they govern themselves."  If we don't start allowing our missionaries more freedom to govern themselves they won't learn self mastery on the mission or in the hereafter.  They will struggle, they will falter but we must let them work it out.  I'm happy to say that the New Youth Program does a better job of teaching empowerment and accountability than the one I was raised in.  Our missionary program needs to be revamped to teach this as well.

- Keep working (even if and when you go home). I echo Elder Holland's words: "Anyone who does any kind of missionary work will have occasion to ask, Why is this so hard? Why doesn’t it go better? Why can’t our success be more rapid? Why aren’t there more people joining the Church? It is the truth. We believe in angels. We trust in miracles. Why don’t people just flock to the font? Why isn’t the only risk in missionary work that of pneumonia from being soaking wet all day and all night in the baptismal font?  You will have occasion to ask those questions. I have thought about this a great deal. I offer this as my personal feeling. I am convinced that missionary work is not easy because salvation is not a cheap experience."

- Non Mormons:  You don't have to listen to their message, but please be nice to missionaries.  They are out in the world doing something they believe in and at best deserve respect and kindness.  At worst they deserve being politely ignored.  I would suggest though if you are looking for more spirituality in life, give listening to the message and the missionaries a try...it might just change your life.

- Members: it is not your job to make sure the missionaries are doing their job.  It is your job to be a missionary yourself.  If you have time to see how missionaries are less than stellar than you are obviously lacking faith and failing at missionary work yourself.  I am still so grateful to many members on my mission who were patient, charitable, and kind to me.

- Familiarize yourself with The Purple Heart RMs project.  It is a much needed project on awareness of struggling missionaries.  Even though I didn't come home early, I participated in the initial survey because my experiences qualified me and I believed I had something to offer.

- Leaders:  Do a better job of preparing missionaries by encouraging members to share ALL the experiences of their missions, not just the funny or faith-promoting.  I remember clinging to the half-hinted words and strings of somethings from returned missionaries who dared to mention just how hard the work is so that I could tell myself it wasn't just me.  I do my best to share what I feel would help, even if it's gruesome or could be heard as critical and will usually add sincerely my testimony: "but I'm glad I did it.  I'm glad I'm home but I am still glad I served a mission."

-  Mission Presidents:  If a missionary is truly struggling, even if it looks like outright rebellion, there is probably an underlying reason.  The more I study about sin the more I see that sinfulness is more about the intents of the heart than anything else.  Perceived (or actual) sinfulness, I argue, is often a symptom of something else.  Identify and address the symptom (even if it is actually transgression) and you will likely resolve the struggle or rebellion. In Elder Packer's words: "True doctrine, understood, changes attitudes and behavior. The study of the doctrines of the gospel will improve behavior quicker than a study of behavior will improve behavior. Preoccupation with unworthy behavior can lead to unworthy behavior. That is why we stress so forcefully the study of the doctrines of the gospel."