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Eternal Measuring Sticks
by
Claudia Goodman
One of the delights
of life is watching newborn babies and young children awaken to
the world around them. Completely oblivious to outside expectations,
they grow and learn at an unprecedented pace, secure in their own
worth and ability to succeed. Yet, as we mature it is easy for us
to become trapped in a web of manmade standards that leave us feeling
that we just don’t measure up. Our confidence and belief in
ourselves becomes clouded, and we find ourselves using the accomplishment
of others as a measuring stick for our own success. The following
true story (names changed) reflects the dilemma we all face:
We entered a
contest to preview the new Harry Potter movie that was coming out,
and we won it together! But the interviews were scheduled during
Young Women’s New Beginnings, where I was supposed to sing.
After a deep inner struggle, I decided I needed to fulfill my church
obligations, so with deep disappointment I forfeited the opportunity
to see the Harry Potter preview. I knew I was doing the right thing,
but it was hard. Jade attended the interview without me. (She was
not a member of the church.) She got her picture in the newspaper
and a big commentary about her accomplishment on the morning announcements
at school. I smiled at her success and ached inside.
Jade and I both ran for
student body office. I convinced her to run for vice-president,
and I ran for secretary. The other person running against her dropped
out, so she won by default, while I lost against three very popular
people trying for secretary. Jade got all the recognition. I tried
to be happy for her, while I endured people teasing me about my
campaign speech. I longed to attend the special training meetings
at a different school with her, but I was left behind.
The only thing I could
really do a lot better than Jade was sing. I had sung all my life
and performed solos in public hundreds of times. However, in spite
of my impressive record, even the choir teacher liked Jade better
than me and gave her the outstanding choir award at the end of the
year. Jade and several other choir students were selected to sing
at a big conference in Hawaii, but my parents decided not to have
me try out, because it was a lot of money and I had already sung
in the concert hall where they were performing. Again I felt the
sting of watching from the sidelines as Jade and the others had
a great time together on the trip and then received awards and recognition
on several occasions from the school.
The next year my parents
agreed that I should apply for the national honor choir that was
performing in New York City. I practiced hard, took additional singing
lessons, and spent hours making my solo audition tape absolutely
perfect. My parents even paid for an extra lesson so that I could
redo the tape to make it flawless. Jade and several others also
tried out, but none of them put as much effort into the process
as I did. The competition was fierce, since only five students would
be selected from the entire state. Still, I had more experience
than anyone else in my school, and my hopes were high.
By the time the results
were posted two weeks later, I had pretty well forgotten about the
choir tryouts. Then one night I got home after an outing with Jade.
My mom told me that she had looked up the audition results on the
internet. I could tell at a glance that it wasn’t good news.
“I didn’t make it, did I?” I said.
“No,” she
replied.
“Oh, well,”
I sighed, “I guess that’s the way it goes.” Then
a horrible thought made my stomach lurch. I didn’t want to
ask, but finally I blurted out, “Did Jade make it?”
My mom nodded, tears
filling her eyes. I think she sensed how devastated I would feel.
Maybe she felt the same way. I stumbled into my room and numbly
threw myself down on the bed. I just sat staring into space. Then
something inside of me broke, and I sobbed and sobbed. It was bad
enough that I didn’t get to go to New York, but why did Jade
get to go? It just wasn’t fair! She got everything. Maybe
she had lucked out or earned all the other honors she received.
But she didn’t sing half as well as I did. Her audition tape
wasn’t even on pitch. The judges couldn’t possibly have
listened to it! And I could just imagine the Monday morning announcement
to the whole school, congratulating Jade on being one of the five
best singers in the entire state. But not me. Never me.
I avoided Jade all weekend
and hoped she wouldn’t call. I just couldn’t face her.
I was so hurt. But by Sunday night my frustration had subsided,
and I was thinking more rationally. It wasn’t Jade’s
fault that she had won. She merely submitted her application, like
I did. Likewise, it wasn’t my fault that I lost—and
it certainly didn’t affect my talent in any way. Just because
the judges didn’t pick me didn’t lessen my ability.
I could sing just as well today as I could before they made their
choice. And besides, I could still use my voice any way I chose
to bless the lives of others.
After praying, I sat
down at the computer and sent an email to Jade: “Hey Jade
– congratulations! I know you’ll have an awesome time
in New York! You have a great voice. Love ya, Allison.” As
I clicked the square marked “Send,” the burden in my
heart lifted. Even before my email reached Jade a split-second later,
Someone remarkably close by had already absorbed all my pain and
soothed it away with love and peace.
Two months later at Regional
Festival, I received one of only two superior ratings from our entire
school for my solo. That time Jade was not the other winner. But
more than the score, the experience reinforced what I had already
learned: the measuring sticks of men are not an accurate assessment
of my real ability. Only my Heavenly Father knows how much I am
truly worth.
Recognize
the measuring sticks of men for what they are.
So often when
we feel that we have failed, it is because we are measuring our
success by worldly standards. My husband’s father, Dr. A.
Harold Goodman, made this profound observation: “Men have
such sophisticated tools for measuring the insignificant, and such
crude tools for measuring the truly significant.” The measuring
sticks of men are generally quite artificial. They only take into
account a very restricted view and are usually heavily biased.
The Olympic
games are an interesting study in achievement. The main objective
of some athletes is merely to do their very best. Win or lose, they
feel a great sense of accomplishment because their focus is on something
beyond the contest. Others base their entire life’s dream
on coming home with the gold. Sooner or later they will be devastated,
because no one can win every time. There are too many variables.
Even if they have trained to the max, they can get sick at the last
minute, slip on an unanticipated object, or be swayed by the emotion
of the moment. Eventually they will have to learn, like everyone
else, that their self-worth is not dependent on winning the honors
of men, but upon who they are inside.
Having autographed
our books, videos, and CDs for people who stood in line for hours
in countries around the world, we have witnessed firsthand how people
often idolize the accomplishments of others beyond reality. We enjoyed
receiving the plaudits of others; however, it was always good to
return home to friends and neighbors who didn’t have a clue
that we had performed worldwide. It put life back into perspective.
The good people in our ward knew us for who we really were—just
ordinary people with struggles like everyone else, while those in
other places tended to put us on pedestals we didn’t necessarily
deserve.
If we can just
keep in mind that honors bestowed by the world are not the ultimate
measure of our worth, then we can be happy when we do win, as long
as we keep our victory in perspective (guarding against an over-inflated
ego). It’s always exciting to excel and often marks the genuine
achievement of greatness. Yet, when we lose we can remember that
our self-worth is not anchored to the outcome. We are only dealing
with the measuring sticks of men, which do not necessarily represent
the Lord’s opinion of us, or even our opinion.
Focus
on cooperation, not competition.
Many years ago my husband
Steve had the privilege of studying violin with Dr. Shinichi Suzuki,
who founded the Suzuki method of violin playing. One of Dr. Suzuki’s
main techniques is to foster cooperation rather than competition
among his students. Each child has the opportunity to perform at
group classes, and no matter what the level, each receives praise
for his accomplishment. If a young child plays exceptionally well,
the children are taught to be happy for him. If an older student
is just beginning, he is admired for his tremendous effort and progress.
Instead of competing against others, each student competes only
against himself.
Dr. Suzuki tells
a remarkable story in his book, Nurtured by Love:
The mother
of one of my students came one day to inquire about her son. This
student had good musical sense, practiced very well, and was a
superior child. “Sensei (Professor), will my boy amount
to something?” When the mother asked me like that, I answered
laughingly, “No. He will not become ‘something.’”
It seems to be the tendency in modern times for parents to entertain
thoughts of this kind. It is an undisguisedly cold and calculating
educational attitude. If I hear things like this, I want to reply
in a joking way. But the mother was alarmed and surprised by my
answer. So I continued, “He will become a noble person through
his violin playing. Isn’t that good enough? You should stop
wanting your child to become a professional, just a good money
earner. This thought is concealed in your question and is offensive.
A person with a fine and pure heart will find happiness. The only
worry for parents should be to bring up their children as noble
human beings. That is sufficient. If this is not their greatest
hope, in the end the child may take a road contrary to their expectations.
Your son plays the violin very well. We must try to make him splendid
in mind and heart also.” (Nurtured by Love, Shinichi
Suzuki, Exposition Press, New York, pp. 25-26)
The world’s
measuring stick, and Satan’s as well, says that there is only
room at the top for one person. Winning is like pushing everyone
else out of the way so that you can stand alone atop the rameumpton.
(Alma 31:12-25) You have to beat someone else out to get there,
and since winning is the most important thing, it really doesn’t
matter what tactics you use to get there. Furthermore, you only
have worth if you are the best. As Satan said, “Wherefore,
give me thine honor.” (Moses 4:1)
The Lord’s measuring
stick is different. Everyone who qualifies—and there is no
one who can’t make it if he works hard—wins the prize.
We have the Lord’s promising reassurance, “Wherefore,
all things are theirs...” (D&C 76:59) He doesn’t
specify a certain number of people who will make it. We don’t
have to be first to get there, and we don’t have to outshine
anyone else to win. There is plenty of room for all, “And
he inviteth them all to come unto him and partake of his goodness;
and he denieth none that come unto him, black and white, bond and
free, male and female...and all are alike unto God..." (2 Nephi
26:33)
Best of all, we can rejoice
in each other’s success. One of my favorite passages in the
Book of Mormon is Alma 17:2, when Alma encountered the sons of Mosiah
returning from their fourteen-year mission among the Lamanites.
“…Therefore Alma did rejoice exceedingly to see his
brethren; and what added more to his joy, they were still his brethren
in the Lord…” He was not threatened because they might
have performed greater miracles than he had; instead they rejoiced
in each other’s safety and success. After all, which accomplishments
were greater—Ammon and his brethren converting the Lamanites,
or Alma watching over the church? In the Lord’s eyes there
is no need for comparison. Both succeeded in their missions and
will be richly rewarded for their efforts.
In our day,
who is the better person: The one who gets the high-paying, prestigious
job upon university graduation or the one who works on the family
ranch with his father? The one who has several children close together
or the one who can’t have any children and finally adopts
one or two from other countries? The one who becomes a bishop in
his late twenties or the one who serves faithfully as scoutmaster
for many years? The one whose book becomes a national best-seller
or the one who diligently writes to a missionary every week? The
list could go on and on. The Lord’s measuring stick applies
to us today. We are not in a contest to outshine each other. We
can walk forward together hand-in-hand, rejoicing in each other’s
contributions to the work.
Remember
that Heavenly Father has a custom plan just for you.
When everything
seems to be going wrong, everyone else appears to be succeeding
while you fail, and you just can’t seem to find your niche,
consider the possibility that perhaps the Lord has something different
in mind for you. As you watch all your friends achieve their goals
and win the very honors you were striving for, remember that you
don’t have to be the best—just your
best. And if you are doing all that you possibly can and the doors
still aren’t opening, maybe the Lord is gently leading you
down the path you covenanted with Him to follow before you came
here, one you can’t see right now. Remember that He has a
specific mission that is uniquely yours.
C. S. Lewis
gives us a thought-provoking analogy: “Imagine yourself as
a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps,
you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right
and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew those jobs
needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts
knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does
not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation
is that He is building quite a different house from the one you
thought of—throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra
floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you
were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but He is building
a palace.” (C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity, New York:
MacMillan Co., 1960, p. 160)
So often the
roadblocks looming in our path turn out to be the very guideposts
we have been praying for to gently steer us through the gateway
to our real mission in life.
Measure
your progress with eternal measuring sticks.
May we all celebrate
when we win, yet be sensitive to those who don’t. And let
us always remember our infinite worth when the world measures us
against unfair standards and finds us wanting. The only measuring
sticks we really need to focus on are the eternal ones, where everyone
can be a winner.
--Claudia Goodman
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