Sacrament meeting talk – walking the careful path
Two Sundays ago, I gave a talk in Church. As usual, I spent quite a bit of time preparing, but I never quite felt like I’d got things right. Ultimately, the morning of the talk, I began to realize that although there was nothing wrong with the content as such, the tone wasn’t quite right, so I scribbled down some extra notes (which I then left at home), printed out my previous post from this site as an additional resource, and resolved to try to be led by the Spirit when I actually got up to speak. Below is the closest version I can build of what I actually said, based on those of my prepared remarks I actually gave and the rest which I added in. It’s not perfect – I suspect I said some of this better in sacrament meeting than I do below – but hopefully it captures the essence of what I tried to convey two weeks ago.
Elder Ballard gave a talk at this past General Conference entitled “Stay in the boat and hold on!” The title comes from the set of rules given to would-be white water rafters in Cataract Canyon in southeastern Utah, but Elder Ballard applies it to our lives in the Church. Elder Ballard says:
This adventure reminds me of our mortal journey. Most of us experience periods in our lives where the tranquil waters of life are appreciated. At other times, we encounter white-water rapids that are metaphorically comparable to those found in the 14-mile stretch through Cataract Canyon—challenges that may include physical and mental health issues, the death of a loved one, dashed dreams and hopes, and—for some—even a crisis of faith when faced with life’s problems, questions, and doubts.
Though the initial analogy comes from white water rafting, Elder Ballard then borrows a related but slightly different analogy from Brigham Young: that of the “Good Ship Zion”, sailing across an ocean. Though the temptation to get out of a raft in a river might be somewhat understandable, the temptation to do the same in the middle of an ocean seems harder to comprehend. But I think there are several circumstances under which we might want to leave the “Good Ship Zion” even in the middle of an ocean. The first scenario is that we are finding life inside the ship too difficult – trials and tribulations and perhaps even the demands of life and service in the Church become overwhelming to us, and we convince ourselves that if we could just jump overboard things would get better. But the other scenarios are less about leaping into the ocean and more about switching ships. On the one hand, perhaps we are lured out of the boat by Satan and his many temptations to sin. Perhaps the boat seems confining, and maybe a pleasure cruise steams by, looking so much more exciting and enticing.
But I think it’s a third reason that’s becoming increasingly prevalent today, and which is perhaps more likely than any overt temptation to sin to cause us to want to switch ships. I’ve been greatly saddened over the last couple of years as a number of people I know have distanced themselves from it. And oftentimes this is the reason. The reality is that, for many of us, the more obvious temptations don’t present any great threat – they are so obvious, and so obviously wrong, that we recoil from them and wouldn’t ever consider indulging them. But there’s another kind of temptation that’s sometimes more powerful.
This pull out of the boat derives from our compassion, when the behavior of those we hold dear sets them on a course that’s in conflict with the standards of the Church. When those we love choose such a path, we may experience a form of cognitive dissonance – a sense that two thought processes inside of us are in conflict. Actually, I think it may better be called emotional dissonance, because it’s about two sets of emotions in conflict. On the one hand, we know we love this person dearly, and would never want to cause them pain. On the other, we know that the path they’re pursuing will cause them pain, and yet in our efforts to warn them we may ourselves cause them pain.
In some ways, I think this challenge illustrates the difference between the Gospel in theory and in practice. It’s so easy to live and embrace the Gospel while we’re sitting in Sunday School, when we hear the principles taught and embrace them. But it’s when the rubber hits the road, when we actually have to go out and apply the Gospel in the real world, with real people, that things get hard. Once other people – imperfect as we are – get in the mix, it gets immeasurably more complicated.
We feel driven to resolve this conflict, and there are a couple of different ways we might be tempted to do so, both of them wrong. On the one hand, we might allow our feelings for the person who’s embarked on the wrong course to utterly win out over all else, and with them abandon the standards they’ve walked away from. On the other, we may place so much emphasis on our love for the Lord and His teachings that we abandon those who no longer feel the same way. Both of these responses are tempting, because they allow us to overcome that emotional dissonance, but neither is right. The only true path forward is to learn to live with the emotional dissonance, to balance our love for the Lord with our love for His children, and that can seem like the hardest path of all.
Here’s Elder Holland on this topic:
This Church can never dumb down its doctrine in response to social goodwill or political expediency or any other reason. It is only the high ground of revealed truth that gives us any footing on which to lift another who may feel troubled or forsaken. Our compassion and our love—fundamental characteristics and requirements of our Christianity—must never be interpreted as compromising the commandments…
I know of no more important ability and no greater integrity for us to demonstrate in a world from which we cannot flee than to walk that careful path—taking a moral stand according to what God has declared and the laws He has given but doing it compassionately and with understanding and great charity.
I’ve recently re-read the Book of Mormon with an emphasis on charity, and one of the things that struck me as I read the first part of the Book of Mormon is that charity can sometimes cause us great pain. Some examples from 1 Nephi:
- 1 Nephi 2:18: “Laman and Lemuel would not hearken unto my words; and being grieved because of the hardness of their hearts I cried unto the Lord for them.”
- 1 Nephi 15:5: “I was overcome because of my afflictions, for I considered that mine afflictions were great above all, because of the destruction of my people, for I had beheld their fall.”
- 1 Nephi 17:47: “my soul is rent with anguish because of you, and my heart is pained; I fear lest ye shall be cast off forever.”
In each of these cases, and many others, a father or sibling mourns for the sins of a brother or son, but in none of these cases does the mourner abandon either the family member or the Gospel. They simply continue to exercise that charity towards them, which means both making earnest attempts to reach out to and reclaim them, but also engaging in fervent prayer on their behalf, knowing that only the Lord can truly change their hearts.
We may be tempted to hold back some of our emotions, or some of our love, for those who begin to pull away from the Lord and from the standards we believe to be true. But neither the Book of Mormon nor any other scripture sanctions this approach. Indeed, the Book of Mormon reaffirms what the Bible says in regard to charity: that without it, we are nothing.
The other thing that occurred to me as I learned (or re-learned) these truths about charity is that the Lord Himself is not immune to these feelings and the deep sadness they bring. In fact, since He is the ultimate example of charity, He feels these emotions more deeply than any of us and, as with us, these emotions sometimes (maybe even frequently) cause Him to weep. I quote now from His interaction with Enoch in the Book of Moses:
And it came to pass that the God of heaven looked upon the residue of the people, and he wept; and Enoch bore record of it, saying: How is it that the heavens weep, and shed forth their tears as the rain upon the mountains?
…
The Lord said unto Enoch: Behold these thy brethren; they are the workmanship of mine own hands, and I gave unto them their knowledge, in the day I created them; and in the Garden of Eden, gave I unto man his agency;
And unto thy brethren have I said, and also given commandment, that they should love one another, and that they should choose me, their Father; but behold, they are without affection, and they hate their own blood;
…
Wherefore, for this shall the heavens weep, yea, and all the workmanship of mine hands.
One of the greatest challenges of life, then, as Elder Holland says, is to reconcile our love for the Lord with our love for His children, and especially those of His children who happen to be ours too, or perhaps our siblings or dear friends. To continue to love both Him and them, and walk what Elder Holland calls “that careful path,” is what the Lord requires of us. That means neither abandoning the Lord and His teachings, nor abandoning those who appear to have done so, but continuing to love both, working and praying for the day when this dissonance is resolved in them and in us, but also learning to trust in the Lord and recognizing that there may be pain involved on both sides in the interim.