Balance

I’m back.

I’ve been on a self-imposed hiatus. There was some vacation time, some minor surgery, adjusting to my new seminary calling, and some other things going on.

Life does that, of course. It jumps up and surprises us in a variety of ways and sometimes it takes us a little bit of time to find our balance again.

Balance.

There are two images that come to mind. One is of a teeter-totter balancing on a fulcrum. We try to keep the right side and the left side even so that it stays in balance. As weight is added to one side, we need to add it to the other, and the same as weight is taken away. This is a really difficult and tedious process that requires us to monitor two things at once (instead of just one), to measure not only each action, but its consequences.

The other is a bicycle on a wire. The rims of the wheels of the bicycle fit over the wire, and there is a substantial counterweight under the bicycle. The counterweight is heavy enough to give the bicycle stability on the wire, even if the lateral pressure is inconsistent.

If I had to choose, I’d prefer the balance of the bicycle to the balance of the teeter-totter. The counterweight is what makes all the difference.

As I’ve thought about the past few weeks, I’ve appreciated the counterweight of the gospel in my life. It has provided me stability. It has centered me when I needed it the most. And that is, for me, one of the greatest blessings of the gospel in my life.

My last few weeks have not been burdensome. The vacation was terrific. The surgery and subsequent recovery were necessary and uneventful (meaning it all went as planned). The new calling to teach seminary, while overwhelming, is spectacular.

Owing largely to the seminary calling, I’ve begun a new study of the Book of Mormon. Taking a cue from our new mission president, who happened to pop into our seminary in-service meeting a few weeks ago, I bought a new paper copy of the Book of Mormon to study for this year. As I read 1 Nephi 1:20 (one of my favorite verses in the Book of Mormon long before Elder Bednar made it famous), I was touched again by the talk of tender mercies.

Moroni 10:3 also talks about God’s mercy to His children. In Nephi, we’re promised to read of the Lord’s tender mercies to those who believe in Him. In Moroni, we’re counseled to remember how merciful God has been to the children of men from the time of Adam. I’ve been noting tender mercies in my reading of the Book of Mormon, and how Nephi and Lehi both use them regularly in their teaching.

Those tender mercies in my life – the ones I recognize in my own life and in God’s relationship with man from the beginning – are the counterbalance in my life; they help keep me centered. They keep me balanced.

Three Good Things

I’m dealing with a rather long period of depression. I wrote about it at Real Intent a while ago.

I believed at the time that part of my depression was physically induced: I was suffering from significant anemia and had been for months. A recent blood test reveals that for now my anemia is under control (good news), but I’m still feeling the effects of the depression (not such good news).

At the urging of my wife, my sister and others who are close to me, I’ve been seeing a therapist for a while, and those visits are illuminating. I’ve had one conversation with my doctor about possible medication, and while he is willing, he agrees with me that it’s prudent to pursue therapy first, especially since my depression is not keeping me from going to work and going about my life.

I’m not new to the concept of depression. I have members of my own family who have battled significant and persistent depression with a combination of therapy and medication and to differing degrees of success.  And I have had periods of persistent depression before, though none have lasted as long as this one.  It’s a tough road since one of the features of the condition is that it inhibits seeking help. While a person with a toothache won’t like going to the dentist, eventually the pain of the toothache is greater than the pain of resolving it, and the person heads to the dentist for relief. A person with depression, on the other hand, may feel like a blanket is over his head, and no matter what he tries, he can’t get that blanket off. As long as the blanket is in place, it’s hard to do anything, let alone get help in removing the blanket. Often it requires someone else’s observing, “Hey, you have a blanket on top of you!” for the person to realize that it is even there. In its most extreme and dangerous incantations, depression can lead a person to extremely unhealthy behavior in an effort to self-medicate or end the suffering.

I was chatting about all of this with a management coach I know. The coach is a PhD psychologist who works as a consultant helping executives to improve their communication and leadership styles. He also conducts a variety of workshops on his farm in Vermont. As we talked, he mentioned he was preparing to conduct a well-being workshop in the coming weekend, so he had lots of references at the top of mind.

We talked about the research that has shown that although medication can be helpful in severe cases of depression, its benefit is much less apparent in mild cases (I believe mine is a mild case). He agreed it was good I’m seeing a therapist and that I’ve been talking with my doctor. He recommended I try one more thing: the Three Good Things exercise.

The exercise grows out of the positive psychology movement, championed by Martin Seligman and others. (An overview of that movement, though somewhat dated, is available here.)

The exercise: at the end of each day, list three good things that happened and why they happened.

The research suggests that this simple exercise makes a difference. These charts are from the cited article. The first shows improvement in happiness over time (compared with a placebo exercise of reflecting on early life experiences), and the second shows a sustained reduction in depressive symptoms over time.

As my friend told me about the exercise, I immediate knew it would help, because we’ve used it (unwittingly) before. When our family moved overseas a number of years ago, our two youngest children were really struggling with the adjustment. After listening to a litany of complaints every day for weeks, my wife finally asked each of the children at night just as they were going to bed to list a few good things that happened that day. We wrote them down in a little notebook just before the kids said their prayers. Within a few weeks, their attitudes about living in our new home had changed; they naturally offered up good and bad things from their school days, and life was much more normal.

Of course, the gospel reinforces this process as well, as we are regularly reminded to be grateful for the tender mercies in our lives, to recognize the hand of the Lord in what we do, to ponder how merciful God has been, to count our blessings.

So, I’m counting. At least three a day. In a few weeks I’ll let you know how it’s going.

A pattern of blessings

The scriptures are full of repeated patterns, types, shadows and symbols. Recognizing those patterns leads to understanding, and allows us to see similar patterns in our own lives.

One of my favorites is the story of the fiery serpents, told in Numbers 21 and repeated three times in the Book of Mormon, too. In each case, we’re told that people could look to the serpent that Moses raised on his staff to be saved from the fiery serpents that were besetting them. The serpent raised on the staff is a type or symbol of the Savior’s sacrifice in our behalf; if we look to Him, we also can live.

I recognized another pattern from my own life in our fast and testimony meeting yesterday. The pattern is long-established and has been taught in the scriptures and in the temple: covenant, obey and receive a blessing. It is a pattern I have taught my children, and that I have regularly taught to youth and adults alike in the church.

As I listened to testimonies yesterday, I remembered a clear example of the pattern from my own life. Between my junior and senior years in high school, I spent part of the summer as an exchange student in Germany. The organization with which I traveled inquired if there were health or religious dietary restrictions that my host family should know about. I indicated on the form that I did not use alcohol, tea or coffee. Frankly, I did so out of habit, not because I had some great moral need to exclude those items from my diet. It was simply what we did (or didn’t do). My testimony at the time was typical of a mid-teen boy: pretty still and small. I was a good kid, but I was unsure at the time about missionary service, I was ho-hum about seminary, and I didn’t go to many mutual activities (though I attended church on Sunday). I was not on fire in any way in the testimony department.

Still, I committed to live the Word of Wisdom on that trip.

When I got there, the family was aware of my desire, including the boy who was my age. He and his friends regularly went out together and, like most German youth, they drank together. Still, they respected my desire not to drink, and we found suitable soft drinks for me. When they drank coffee, I drank herbal tea (and realized how much I hated most herbal tea). My American friends in my group were enjoying the freedom to drink and found me a curiosity, but were tolerant.

The mom of my guest family was quite impressed with my commitment. She and I spoke on more than one occasion about the church and my commitment to it. I had packed along a German Book of Mormon, just in case, and I offered it to her, though she did not accept it, citing her husband’s intolerance. Still the family saw to it that I got to church a couple of times I while I was there.

Toward the end of our trip, the pressure for me to drink increased. I had made plenty of jokes about my not drinking and I was quite good natured about it, but frankly I was pretty curious myself. On one of our final nights, I was getting some pressure to try it “just once,” and I was nearly ready to give in. I was relieved, however, when my “guest brother” stepped in and reminded me that I didn’t have to if I really didn’t want to. I honored my commitment to myself and to my host family not to drink.

Several weeks after coming home, I attended my stake’s youth conference. (My mother had signed me up while I was gone, and I went specifically because she asked me to go; I would not have chosen to go on my own.) At that youth conference, I had a transformational experience. In the priesthood meeting on Sunday morning (our conferences went through Sunday in those days), I felt such a powerful spiritual witness of what we were being taught it was unmistakable, and my heart was changed. Following that conference came a series of decisions that carried me to BYU, on a mission, to a temple marriage and to a life of faithful service in the church.

As I reflected yesterday morning on that series of events, it occurred to me that the spiritual witness came after my keeping a personal covenant to live the Word of Wisdom while I was away from home. I can’t say with certainty that one event depended completely on the other, but surely my willingness to keep my personal covenant opened my heart to the change the Lord offered it when I came home.

Temple blessing

Sometimes when I visit the temple, I seek a specific blessing – confirmation of a decision I'm considering, help with an issue I'm confronting, or peace for my troubled heart. This past weekend was one of those times. And the blessing came, at least in part.

I went this time with specific questions, looking for guidance and comfort regarding something going on in my life. As I sat in the endowment room prior to the beginning of the session, I reflected on my questions, saying a silent prayer that I might be tuned in to listen for help that might come. In fact, I was so preoccupied with my concerns at one point that others must have thought I had fallen asleep, but I tuned in soon enough.

Part of the endowment session is a prayer, offered normally for those whose names are on the prayer roll of the temple. Patrons may include names on the prayer roll, and members can even phone in names to be included. While the prayers follow a specific pattern, they are not prescribed; their content is up to the person offering them and his inspiration.

The prayer in my session was so specific that it seemed perfectly tailored to the questions I had brought with me to the temple that day. It was unique from other prayers I had heard in that circumstance; I had never heard certain elements of this prayer in such a setting before. As I listened to it, I felt the Lord's love pour on me like the balm of Gilead. There was no voice to answer my specific question, but rather simply the knowledge that the Lord had heard my cry: I knew He was there. (That's what Isaiah 58 promises: that we'll cry and know He is there.)

After that experience, I've had repeated promptings through the weekend (including in the talks and lessons I heard in church the next day, in conversations with my spouse, and during the course of my personal prayers) that have shaped how I think I will respond to my challenges. But the prayer in the temple was a dramatic and significant blessing for me.

Tender Mercies

The prophet Nephi writes that the Book of Mormon will contain a record of the tender mercies that are “over those he has chosen” (1 Nephi 1:20). The Psalmist also refers to tender mercies, praying first for them (Psalms 119:77), and then praising their greatness (Psalms 119:156).

Most believers can cite examples of the Lord’s tender mercies in our lives, for we often attribute good things that happen to Him. Our less believing friends may cite coincidence or chance, but I believe those of us who believe can know the Lord’s presence in our lives. Not only do we see seemingly random events align at times, but we find specific answers to our questions, circumstances that meet our needs, or blessings that come when needed, but not expected. And, for me most importantly, these tender mercies are often accompanied by the witness of the Holy Ghost that they are more than just happenstance.

There are, to be sure, great mercies in my life: the opportunity to repent and improve myself, thanks to the atoning sacrifice of the Savior, the spirit I feel when engaged in a priesthood ordinance. But there are countless smaller mercies – seemingly simple and insignificant moments that, when combined, point to a Heavenly Father who knows me and blesses me.

That is not to say I always get what I want when I want it. And it certainly does not mean that I do not face adversity. But even in adversity, I can look back and see the Lord’s hand in my life, sometimes guiding me through it, sometimes protecting me from further harm, and sometimes simply letting me know He is there, despite my suffering.

I have come to realize a righteous life is not free from trial or sadness. Why would I think so?! The Savior was the most righteous, and His life was not without sadness or pain. In fact, many of the prophets endured adversity somewhere along their path.

The Lord’s tender mercies allow us to find joy even in the midst of the storm. Our prayer to rescue us from the storm may not be answered by a break in the clouds, but by a boat strong enough to cut through the churning waves.

- Paul