A new me

This is the old me, the picture that had been in the upper right hand corner of my blog. Look over there now -- there's a new picture of me, just taken this week.

Not a lot of difference between the two -- still an old white guy. I'm grayer now than I was two years ago when the old picture was taken. And I'm thinner (I've dropped sixty pounds, though that was seven or eight months ago). And I have newer glasses (well, I've had them for nearly a year). So it's taken me a while to update the photo.

There are other ways I'm different from the old me. Some very subtle, some not so much. I think rarely do we go through drastic and dramatic changes. We change jobs, move houses, get married, have children come into our family or move away. None of those dramatic changes for me in the last few years.

But there are changes nonetheless. I think I'm less strident (I hope so) and more reflective. A benefit of writing is that I have time to think more carefully about what I write than I do when I speak (when all too often I speak first, then think...ready, fire, aim!)

One of the themes I've noticed in the talks of President Eyring is one that I've tried applying in my life lately. He has spoken more than once about what he does in his personal prayers, that he seeks in the morning to understand the Lord's will for him that day, and in the evening he reports back to the Lord how he did. This focus on each day has been really important to me.

I used to be a compulsive planner, and I still find great security in a good plan, though I'm less compulsive about it. I've come to realize that for many things in my life, I have to take them a day at a time. Although I may commit to lasting change, I have to realize it on the retail level, day in and day out, one day at a time, as the 12-steppers like to say.

The idea of considering my own performance each day has been really helpful, particularly in the relationships in my family. Elder Uceda's recent conference talk about a father who prayed before discussing his daughter's behavior with her really moved me. The act of prayer, it seems to me, does several things in such a circumstance:

It puts distance between the indicident that requires the discussion and the discussion itself, allowing the father to think more clearly rather than being ruled by his emotions.

It humbles the father. Kneeling and seeking his Father's advice, a father will approach his own child with greater humility and is more likely to learn from the experienced.

It invites the spirit into the delicate conversation, rather than allowing the natural man to chase it away.

I have more than once when evaluting my day in prayer felt my heart soften as I prayed, and therefore seen things in a new light, recognizing that I have changes -- and amends -- to make.

So, I suppose there's a new me every day. But not a new picture.

Saving Marriage -- Part III

In the last installment, I said I’d talk about how to get someone else to change.

Have you ever had a say something like this to you, “My husband drives me nuts! How do I get him to…?”

Here’s the answer: You can’t.

I could stop the post there, since I’ve written complete truth, but there’s still more I want to say. But you could stop reading here and get the basic message.

When I was in a position that had me counseling couples from time to time, the most common experience was that a spouse (usually a wife) came to see me and asked, “How do I get my husband to…?” Fill in the blank with anything from spend more time with the children, get a better job, earn more money, honor his priesthood (apparently the list of husband-infractions is long; fortunately most people did not have a list of more than two or three things).

My first response to these questions (which I never said out loud, as far as I remember) was, “How should I know?” Sometimes I listened to the spouse complain a while and then offered some technique for communicating. Once or twice I might have even offered to speak to the spouse (where I usually got a completely different side of the story and a similar question: “How do I get her to….?” A few times I sent the couple off to LDS Family Services for counseling.

During my time as bishop -- and since then -- I’ve learned a few things about people, and one of them is this: I can’t make you do anything. (Even if you’re my teenager.)

It’s not that I should not try to make you do something. I simply cannot do it.

I learned part of this lesson early in our marriage when children started to come. My sweet mother-in-law reminded us that a parent can never make a child eat, sleep or go to the bathroom. What she neglected to say is that a parent cannot make a child do anything. Had I learned that lesson sooner, I might have saved my oldest son some years of emotional pain. As it is, his younger siblings owe him a great debt.

There are (at least) two huge marriage lessons to take from this truth:

1. You can’t fall in love and marry someone assuming you will change him or her over time. He or she may change, but you can’t build your future on it.

2. Trying to change someone else will only may you unhappy.

I was really fortunate when I married my lovely wife. I loved her just the way she was. I saw nothing about her I wanted to change. Some would say I was naïve, or maybe immature (and they would be right: I was just 21, after all), but that was my reality when we married. But I have known spouses who desperately wanted to change their partners. Those seeking the change were always unhappy.

I believe the source of their unhappiness was less in the behavior of their spouse (the behavior they wanted to change) and more in their determination to do something they simply could not do.

We could talk about the doctrine of agency here. Often when we do, we speak in terms of allowing someone to make choices. Real agency in adults is not about allowing someone to choose; it’s about recognizing that each of us will choose. Our teenagers who lead wholesome lives choose to do so. Our teenagers who stray choose that, too. They will make choices. Foolish parents assume they have more influence over the choices their teens make than they do. (I’m not saying parents don’t have influence, but at some point our kids make their own choices independent of what we have taught them. The sooner we recognize that, the better parents we can be, because we can operate in the light of truth – but that’s a different post.)

From my 21st-century American viewpoint, it seems unthinkable to me that there may be husbands or wives who think they can keep a spouse from doing something by “not allowing” it. But I acknowledge that there must be some who do. After all, as recently as last April’s conference, Elder Wilson told of an interchange with his new bride within a month of their marriage. He thought she should drive more slowly and told her so. He tells the story:

She replied, “What gives you the right to tell me how to drive?”

Frankly, her question caught me off guard. So, doing my best to step up to my new responsibilities as a married man, I said, “I don’t know—because I’m your husband and I hold the priesthood.”

When the laughter in the conference center died down, he then spoke at length about how we influence our family, but also about the fact that we cannot force them into good behavior.

Since we cannot force someone into our way of thinking, trying to do so will frustrate us. We may develop an expectation that our partner behaves a certain way. We may mistakenly try to compel that behavior. And when the desired behavior fails to materialize, we will be frustrated, and maybe angry. That resentment may lead us to try to control the situation even more, which will ultimately lead to any number of unhappy endings.

We cannot force someone to choose our way. Trying to do so will ultimately make us unhappy.

In a future installment, I’ll write about how we can communicate our needs in a way that may facilitate change.

Commencing

My oldest daughter (and fourth child) graduated from BYU today. She’s the second of our kids to graduate college, and the first to graduate from BYU. It was hard not to think of our own graduation (my wife and I received our bachelor’s degrees together in 1983) and make comparisons. Her graduation was much larger than ours (hers in April, ours in August). Her commencement speaker was Richard G. Scott (delightful!); ours was Hugh Nibley (also delightful, but in quite different ways).

Our daughter is quite nervous leaving the safety of BYU, though she will also tell you she is ready. She has no job, yet, but has a few leads, including a big interview next week that we hope will go well. And she has a backup plan or two in case that doesn’t pan out. If all else fails, she can spend a while at our house and sort out options for the future.

As I look with her toward her future, I also look toward my own. I’m coming ever closer to the time when I said I’d go back and certify to teach, and wonder if I ever will. I face my own uncertainty about those big decisions that can change the future, and it’s no easier for me than for my daughter. In some ways it’s more difficult for me, since I still have kids at home to get through school.

But it’s telling that commencement signals the beginning, not the end. And many of us learn that each day is a new beginning. We do not “graduate” from things in life, but each day we commence anew, seeking to know God’s will for us that day, to know whom we can serve and how. We commence each week as we partake of the sacrament and renew sacred covenants. We commence as we attend the temple for those who have died before us and remember covenants we have made there and recommit ourselves to honor them. We commence as we regularly rededicate ourselves to those relationships that are most important to us. We commence as we repent of our mistakes and invite the blessings of the atonement to help us to improve.

A friend reminds me from time to time, Right where you are is a great place to begin. Here’s to beginning.

On mercy and grace

As Mormons, we often quote that verse from 2 Nephi 25: "…it is by grace we are saved, after all we can do" (v. 23). I understand why we quote it, and what we mean by it. We do not believe that we are saved by grace alone, but also by works, as signs of our faith. So taught James that faith without works is dead (James 2:17).

But in our zeal to do works, let us not lose sight of the gift of grace. Yes, we need ordinances (see D&C 84:19-22). Yes, we need to keep the commandments as we covenant to do (see D&C 20:77).

But let us also remember that "salvation is free" (2 Nephi 2:4) and that it comes "through the atoning blood of Christ" (Mosiah 3:18). In our desire to highlight our own responsibility for our own choices in this life, let us not forget that the opportunity to choose, the ability to repent, and the hope to return home to our Father in Heaven is all through the grace, the sacrifice and the enduring love of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

My father sought this balance in his life. My observation was that he was slow to speak of things he did of himself, and I heard him express reluctance to demand blessings from the Lord. His view seemed to be that God was where God was, and it was my father's task to find Him and follow Him. It was one reason he converted to Mormonism when he did. The church he had been attending seemed to vote regularly on how to interpret the changing mores of the late 1960s, and my father was uncomfortable with the idea that we could somehow dictate God's will.

I'm grateful for a plan that allows me to change, and I acknowledge that this opportunity comes only through the grace and mercy of Jesus Christ, whose atoning sacrifice allows me to repent, to turn to Him, to improve myself.

King Benjamin taught that we are beggars, and that we must turn to Christ if we are to have hope of salvation (Mosiah 4:19-20). On my best days, I remember what King Benjamin taught.

Taking Inventory

When I came home from my mission years ago, my first Sunday was ward conference, and my dad, who was on the high council, was one of the speakers. Dad had served on the high council for years and, frankly, as a youth I found his talks rather boring. But having experienced the same transformation that Mark Twain did, I was pleasantly surprised to see how much my dad had learned while I was away on my mission.

It was the late 1970's, and my folks had lived in Lagos, Nigeria during my mission in Germany; Dad's employment took him there, and they were able to witness the opening of West Africa to missionary work after the 1978 revelation on the priesthood.

My folks had joined the church in the late 1960's – I was nearly nine and was the youngest of four kids. My dad saw the church, among other things, as a means of protecting us kids against the changing mores in American society at the time. He and mom served faithfully in a series of callings since joining the church, and Dad landed on the high council within a few years of baptism, soon after our stake was formed.

In his talk in ward conference, my dad spoke about personal inventories. The topic was interesting to me as I was quite familiar with companionship inventories from my mission. During their time in Africa, my parents were the church. There was one other brother who would join them for a small sacrament meeting in their home a couple of times a month, but mostly it was Mom and Dad, holding a tiny worship service in their home in Lagos. After the two senior missionary couples came (after the 1978 revelation) to begin missionary work in West Africe, my parents had occasion visits from them, though the couples' primary work was outside Lagos in other parts of Nigeria and in Ghana. Mom and Dad were part of the International Mission at the time. And apparently, the time away from church structure gave them plenty of time to think about their membership, their commitment, their testimonies, and how they chose to live the gospel.

In his talk, Dad suggested that since God does not change, it's up to us to find Him and to orient our lives around him. This was a theme of Dad's membership. He was never one to place demands on God; he was uncomfortable with verses like D&C 82:10 that suggest that our obedience allows us to lay claim to blessings, and instead favored the King Benjamin view that God blesses us in His own way whenever we do right without our asking for it. In fact, one of Dad's reasons for leaving his protestant faith in the late 1960's was their annual meeting to decide what would be true for the next year.

So Dad's suggestion to do an occasional personal inventory made great sense to me. It's a chance for us to think about where God wants us to be and where we are, and to sort out how to close the gap. It's a chance to identify what we're doing right and wrong. And it's a chance for us to make course corrections where required.

The occasional inventory allows us to grow, too. It recognizes that our understanding of what is required of us may change over time – not that the requirements change, but that a new season in life might allow (or drive) a change in our focus. Dad, for instance, became a much more regular temple attender when a temple was close enough to get to in a day's drive, and when his travel schedule for work allowed him to be in one place for longer than a few weeks.

I'm a fan of the inventory, too. It seems to me that a personal inventory allows us greater access to the blessings of the Atonement, as it presents to us a case for change in our lives. In my mind, a good inventory is not simply a listing of what we perceive to be our deficiencies, but rather an account of strengths and weaknesses – what we'd like to do more of as well as things we see that we must change.

Have you had experience with a personal inventory?

One Day at a Time

Twelve step programs like AA use the phrase "One Day at a Time" to remind their participants that change comes in small bits, and that when confronting addiction (or co-dependence, in the case of family support groups like Families Anonymous or Al Anon), a long time horizon is not a good thing.

Contrast that to our gospel perspective. So much of what we do in the church has a very long time horizon. "Eternity is a long time," my old stake president used to say. And yet, I think we have something to learn from One Day at a Time.

Repentance is the second principle of the gospel, right behind faith in the Lord Jesus Christ (without which repentance would be futile). I have asserted more than once on this blog that one of the great and awesome blessings of the atonement is the opportunity we have to change for the better. Not just to overcome grievous sin (some many never commit grievous sin, thank goodness), but just to improve from day to day.

For an addict or a co-dependent person, signing up for a lifetime of change may be overwhelming, even impossible. And so learning to recommit oneself each day to principles of change associated with overcoming those addictions makes a lot of sense. Even as I type this sentence, I think about our practice of recommitting ourselves weekly to our baptismal covenant via the sacrament. The weekly participation in the sacrament is there not only as a remind of our Savior's physical sacrifice (which is incredible), but also recommits us to live by the covenants we've made.

Twelve step programs rely on the strength of a Higher Power, "God as we understand him." The church's Addiction Recovery Program, with its 12 steps adapted from AA (with permission, but not with their review or approval, as AA does not endorse any outside program) are far more explicit about reliance on the Savior and on our Father in Heaven. The principles of the 12 Step program teach participants to admit their powerlessness over certain things, and to seek God's will for them through prayer.

That's frankly a great formula for everyone to follow in morning prayer each day. Elder Henry B. Eyring said, "A morning prayer and an early search in the scriptures to know what we should do for the Lord can set the course of a day. We can know which task, of all those we might choose, matters most to God and therefore to us. I have learned such a prayer is always answered if we ask and ponder with childlike submission, ready to act without delay to perform even the most humble service" (Liahona, May 2007).

Sometimes there is value in our stepping back from planning for our eternity, and planning instead just for today. What will I do today to serve someone else, to help myself, to learn and grow, to overcome a habit I'm trying to overcome, to better know the Lord? I suggest this not because I think our to-do lists are too short. Quite the contrary, I suggest it because I think our eternal to-do lists are too long! It can be overwhelming to bear the burden of perfection in all things forever. But there are things I can do today. And tomorrow, I can worry about tomorrow.

For me, a focus on each day (when I succeed) allows me to live more in the moment, with less worry about what might be, or what should have been. Instead, I can say, today I will… And at the end of the day I can say, today I did… And tomorrow is another day.