Turning from peace

I love the hymn “Where Can I Turn For Peace?” Emma Lou Thayne’s text speaks to my heart and experience:

Where can I turn for peace?
Where is my solace
When other sources cease to make me whole?
When with a wounded heart, anger, or malice,
I draw myself apart,
Searching my soul?

Where, when my aching grows,
Where, when I languish,
Where, in my need to know, where can I run?
Where is the quiet hand to calm my anguish?
Who, who can understand?
He, only One.

He answers privately,
Reaches my reaching
In my Gethsemane, Savior and Friend.
Gentle the peace he finds for my beseeching.
Constant he is and kind,
Love without end.

For me, the key is in the first stanza: “I draw myself apart.”

I have lived long enough to know how I draw myself apart.

I can feel it when it happens now. And fortunately it is not a common experience. But I am aware enough to see it, just the way I could see the impending accident years ago when a blown tire caused me to skid and spin and flip off a freeway in Venezuela. At that time, I took my foot of the accelerator; I counter-steered. And still I skidded and spun and eventually rolled over off the road and down the embankment where I landed a little bruised but otherwise none the worse for wear. (Not so my vehicle – it was totaled.)

An example: A harmless conversation that in an instant went poorly. I might have foreseen it, since it was a political question. But we’d talked about the subject before, so I assumed we agreed when in fact we didn’t. The disagreement set off my defenses, and I responded far too quickly. And as quickly as it started, communication ended, shut down. Silence.

There were no harsh and angry words exchanged. This was not a debate nor an argument. It was silence.

In my heart my aching grew. I sought that quiet hand to calm my anguish. I apologized, knowing an apology was not enough. I prayed silently for peace, for comfort, for guidance.

Here’s the remarkable thing: In the first stanza I find myself searching my soul with anger and malice, and yet I still crave the healing touch of my Savior. My aching grows as I realize my role, and I feel that anguish that comes in realizing my own weakness. My only choice is to seek mercy – the mercy of Him who has power to save, and the mercy of the person I’ve offended.

In that instance, as He spoke peace to my soul, so did my lovely wife. As He reached my reaching, so did she. Love without end, indeed.

On grace and repentance

In recovery circles, where 12-step programs are practiced, there's an understanding that one cannot do it alone. If one takes the AA approach to recovery, one first faces the reality that no one can, by himself, control the disease of addiction. And one walks through steps that lead one to understand dependence on God for rescue from that same disease.

It's not that there isn't a great deal of work to be done by the person seeking recovery (whether an addict, an alcoholic or a co-dependent loved one of an addict). Surrendering oneself to God is no simple task.

In Step 7 of the church's Addiction Recovery Program (which is based on the 12 steps of AA, but is also infused with more direct links to doctrine and to commentary from apostles and prophets), we read these words:

"Genuine remorse filled our hearts, not only because we had suffered or made others suffer but because we regretted that even in recovery we still could not remove our own shortcomings…. We asked that He would grant us grace, that through Him we might maintain this new way of life" (A Guide to Addiction Recovery and Healing", 41, emphasis mine).

My own experience is that the 12 steps are an elegant application of the atonement in our lives, and lessons from the 12 steps are readily applicable to other efforts at repentance and rebirth. The truth of this particular step is no exception:

All of us who sin (and I think I can safely say that's all of us) cannot overcome that sin alone. It is not enough simply to stop our objectionable behavior (even if we can): we require the mercy and grace of a loving Savior to heal our hearts and our lives.

Herein is God's grace clear, that we have the opportunity to overcome our shortcomings, that He can turn our weaknesses into strengths (see Ether 12:27), that He can lift up the hands that hang down (D&C 81:8). I have seen that grace in my own life, and that is how I know He lives.

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.

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