M E R I D I A N     M A G A Z I N E

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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