Although I don't like to admit it, I have struggled with feelings of insecurity and inadequacy for much of my life. Sometimes without fully realizing it, I have relied on mortal measures of performance and success to fill my I-am-lovable-and-worthwhile bucket.

I have been a chronic people-pleaser, thriving on positive reinforcement. I worked hard in school and got good grades. I earned two degrees and started a career, complete with perks, pay raises, and promotions. Even after I married and had children (and quit my job), I still found ways to keep bullets on my résumé.

Even in my religious life, I have depended on the dutiful do-er in me to feel worthy and worth loving. I have found satisfaction in fulfilling callings, attending meetings, reading my scriptures, and providing service. (Not that it's bad to find satisfaction in doing good, but for me, it's been all too easy to see my church life as a checklist, and to think that my value, and even God's view of me, was tied to the number of checks on the list.)

But about six years ago, I started having chronic health problems. My ability to “do” was lessened — and the usual source of my sense of worth was threatened. Chronic illness has challenged me in complex ways, and has tested me and my faith to the core.

As hard as this trial has been, it has helped me start to see some of the critical flaws in my paradigms about life, worth, and divine love. Moments of clarity have come to help me understand more about myself and about God.
I share one of these moments below.

Because of this complex of mine to have external validation of my worth, I frequently wrestled with scriptures that remind me of our fallen, natural state — of how weak we really are as humans.

Consider, for example, the following scriptures:

• “And it came to pass that … Moses … said unto himself: Now, for this cause I know that man is nothing…” (Moses 1:10).

• “[R]emember, and always retain in remembrance, the greatness of God, and your own nothingness … unworthy creatures” (Mosiah 4:11).

• “For the natural man is an enemy to God, and has been from the fall of Adam” (Mosiah 3:19).

• “[I]f he have not charity he is nothing” (Moroni 7:44).

• “O how great is the nothingness of the children of men; yea, even they are less than the dust of the earth” (Helaman 12:7).

I have known in my heart somewhere that there is more to these teachings than how my brain sometimes processes them (“you are nothing” has often equaled “you are worthless” in my mind). We are, after all, children of God. We have infinite worth. The scriptures teach that if we rely on God, He can make our weakness become strong (Ether 12:27). In fact, that scripture in Ether teaches that it's part of the Lord's modus operandi to show us our weakness as we turn to Him.

But I often haven’t been able to shake a sort of hopeless feeling. I couldn't quite come to terms come with the notion that my mortal self is an unworthy enemy to God, and that I’m only something because God is everything. (The natural-man tendencies in me scream to be “enough” on my own. They want to equate the fact that I am a daughter of God with the idea that I can therefore do what I need to do and be what I need to be without any help.)

It often bewildered me as to why it is so important for us to be in a state where we have to rely so completely on a Power beyond our own to be more than the dust of the earth. Why couldn’t we accomplish what we needed to accomplish without that absolute reliance on Deity? (Clearly this is my drive to “do” run amok, but I have often found myself stuck, because I haven't known how to reconcile my infinite worth with my nothingness.)

A while ago, my husband and I discussed this. He shared a thought that resonated with me: God desires to someday give us so much power and glory (all that He has, in fact) that only the most humble, the most contrite, the meekest will be able to be trusted with that power. God has to know if we can put off the natural tendencies that would corrupt the power that only the most pure in heart can maintain (think “no power or influence” from Doctrine and Covenants 121). And so, we are placed in a state where we are given the opportunity to exercise our agency to choose something that is not natural to us now. That is part of the test!

I felt some understanding come as my husband and I talked. I don't pretend to comprehend it all, but following are some thoughts that came as I pondered this idea.

• If I cease to rely on myself and rely instead on Christ, He promises me His grace, His power, His characteristics, His abilities. He is perfect, and because of covenants, His perfections and attributes can become mine! (And I ask myself why I would want to be capable on my own?) If I want to truly be successful and capable and consistent and loving and strong and faithful, I can only do that through His merits (see Alma 22:14; Alma 24:10; 2 Ne. 2:8), not through my own willpower or “abilities.” It helps me to remember, too, that any abilities I might have (or might think I have) all come from God anyway, so, a la King Benjamin, I don't have bragging rights for something that was given as a gift!

• Mortality is only a temporary state, a “probationary state” (Alma 42:10, 13, 24), a time to “prepare to meet God” (Alma 34:32). God doesn’t view me through the lens of mortality and all my human limitations. He views me as the person I can become through the Atonement. When He reminds me of my nothingness, His intent is not to depress and paralyze me with feelings of worthlessness (which is my natural response to such a message). He is simply inviting me (with open arms!) to humble myself so that, through Christ, He can eventually make me all that He is (and can help me through life now!). In short, He wants me to remember to be meek and humble so I can receive the gifts He has to offer.

To understand that words like “nothing” and “weak” and “unworthy” are not communicating who I really am has changed things for me in a significant way. Rather than see them as a threat to my sense of worth or well-being, I can see them as words that can simply help me “always remember” the Savior and the invitation to rely on Him. (Since I fail miserably at my efforts to do and be what He wants me to do and be, why would I want anything other than to have Him, in all His perfection, on whom to rely? No wonder He says His yoke is easy and His burden is light.)

What I have tasted is that if I will accept and recognize and even embrace my nothingness and my mortal weakness.  If I seek to be meek, humble and penitent, “relying wholly upon the merits of him who is mighty to save” (2 Nephi 31:19), then God can fill my life with peace, joy, rest, strength, and power beyond my own (see the definition of grace in the Bible Dictionary). That power can make my burdens light, and can help me see everything (including myself) in a new light.

“Teach them to never be weary of good works, but to be meek and lowly in heart; for such shall find rest to their souls” (Alma 37:34).

“And the remission of sins bringeth meekness, and lowliness of heart; and because of meekness and lowliness of heart cometh the visitation of the Holy Ghost, which Comforter filleth with hope and perfect love, which love endureth by diligence unto prayer, until the end shall come, when all the saints shall dwell with God (Moroni 8:26).

“Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls (Matthew 11:29).  (Emphasis was added to the above scriptures.)

I’m also finally starting to really understand what Paul meant about glorying in our trials. Trials can also remind me to rely on Christ, so I can access His reservoir of power:

There was given to me a thorn in the flesh…lest I should be exalted above measure.For this thing I besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me.
And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ’s sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong (2 Cor. 12:7-10, emphasis added).