Resisting
God in our Lives and in Our Minds
by
H. Wallace Goddard
If
obedience and consecration are turning our wills and lives over
to God, then maybe faith is turning our minds over to Him. It
won’t do to say we believe in Him while chafing and fidgeting
against His purposes. That is why it is the first order of mortal
business to know God.
A friend who
had been raised as a Latter-day Saint, once asked me why she felt
so totally alive when she was involved in illicit sex. She apparently
wondered why she didn’t feel miserable in the midst of sin.
It is an interesting question. The larger question might be, “Why
is sin so often energizing while goodness often feels like struggling
at piano under the austere eye of Ms. Dour?”
That is a
hard question. As humans observe the chafings of mortality, it
seems that a reasonable metaphor for life is time in the military.
We are trained through hard experience to be perfectly obedient
even as we suffer senseless indignities and grumble our way through.
Some years
ago I met a mental health professional who captured the common
perception of life: “It is our duty to suffer and die for
the amusement of our creator. And I am doing my part.” Ahhh.
No wonder that “the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation,”
as Thoreau observed.
So the cosmic
question is: Are you willing and able to live a barren, austere
life of suffering so that you can go to eternity and take rare
pleasure in laughing at those who suffer unspeakable indignities
through eternity? Jonathan Edward’s (1703-1758) famous speech,
"Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God," comes to mind:
Prospects
for the future life aren’t good if you believe Edward’s
revivalist rhetoric. The best that can be hoped for in mortality
is an uncomfortable resignation, an enduring gloom. Mortality
crowned with infamy. Such grim predictions hardly encourage serene
faith. It seems that the only options are to take pleasure in
sin or to put on the Pharisaic robes hoping to slip by the final
judges. For many, the former option promises at least some glimmer
of gratification.
But there
is a lie neatly woven into the argument that obscures the pattern
from all but the spiritually astute. Each of us could list the
pleasures that tug at us, the siren song that distracts us. Suppose
for a moment that we abandoned all restraint and indulged all
those pleasures with absolute concentration (“total abandon”
is the common and telling phrase). Imagine that, for the balance
of mortality, we ate everything that looked appetizing, seized
all sexual opportunities, and snatched all resources that came
to hand, would our lives be better? Would we be happier? What
does your experience say?
Not only have
most of us had our experiments with spiritual irresponsibility,
all of us know someone who has turned the experiment into a way
of life. The oft-replicated result of those experiments is surprisingly
consistent. No matter how skilled the experimenter, the result
is total darkness, soul-deep loneliness, utter meaninglessness,
and nagging despair. Admittedly, for those who pursue the experiment
half-heartedly, the result may be only partial misery but that
misery is magnified by angst. A lukewarm soul feels like an amnesiac
who has awakened in the midst of nordic blizzard: lost—enjoying
neither the excitement of sin nor the purpose and peace of faith.
As Alma the younger, an early-in-life experimenter himself, wisely
observed: “wickedness never was happiness” (Alma 41:10).
It never was. It never will be. It never can be. It is contrary
to the nature of happiness (See Alma 41:11).
Overeating
brings acid reflux and soddenness. Immorality always brings gloom,
loneliness, and relational fuzziness. Coveting brings shriveled
focus and restless hunger. Wickedness may stimulate but it never
satisfies. Satan offers crown jewels but delivers dunce caps.
He is not to be trusted. He was a liar from the beginning (D&C
93:25).
Is the only
alternative to sin a course of grim resolve and stubborn toiling?
What does God have to offer that is any better than Satan’s
titillation?
Sometimes
we make the mistake of seeing God’s prescriptions as arbitrary
dig-a-hole-here-and-fill-it-in-to-kill-time-and-to-make-me-feel-powerful
exercises. That misjudges the Creator. His “commands”
are simply the course to greatest joy. He charts the most direct
path from where we are to the place of greatest growth, peace,
usefulness, satisfaction—in a word, joy. He knows just how
to help us fill the measure of our creation and have joy therein.
Of course there is some slogging and climbing to do between here
and there. But He knows the Way to Joy. He is Joy. And He wants
us Home with Him.
At times we
may journey sullenly: “Maybe I have to obey but I don’t
have to like it.” We may reserve the right to evaluate His
performance and complain about the convoluted course He charts
for us.
“Poor,
dismal, ugly, sterile, shabby little man...with your scrabble
of harsh oaths...Joy, glory, and magnificence were here for you...but
you scrabbled along...rattling a few stale words... and would
have none of them” (Thomas Clayton Wolfe). Joy is the result
when mortal-weary travelers throw themselves on the merit, mercy,
and grace of Him who is might to save. Misery is the result of
avoiding or resisting Him.
Brigham Young
talked about the blessings that await the faithful. He said that
some people see great reason “to be thankful” while
others speak of their “constant trials, tribulations, difficulties,
and disappointments which they have now to pass through, and gloomy
forebodings of more in the future.” Then he makes this startling
statement: “There is not a single condition of life that
is entirely unnecessary; there is not one hour's experience but
what is beneficial to all those who make it their study, and aim
to improve upon the experience they gain” (Journal of Discourses,
Vol.9, p.292 p.293).
Not a single
condition, not a single hour is wasted! Wow. I think Brigham was
saying that when one’s growth is presided over by One who
is perfectly wise, perfectly loving, and perfectly committed to
our well-being, we may be fully confident. We may enjoy the peace
of knowing that our limitations do not (can not!) put us beyond
the reach of His saving power. The same claim can not be made
for many drill sergeants. Unlike the typical military officer,
Jesus “doeth not anything save it be for the benefit of
the world; for he loveth the world, even that he layeth down his
own life that he may draw all men unto him” (2 Nephi 26:24).
If obedience
and consecration are turning our wills and lives over to God,
then maybe faith is turning our minds over to Him. It won’t
do to say we believe in Him while chafing and fidgeting against
His purposes. That is why it is the first order of mortal business
to know God, His character, perfection, and attributes (See Lectures
on Faith, Lecture Third). As we know Him, we trust Him and feel
His comforting companionship.
When we abandon
our desire for the side-trips we call sin, we are not consigned
to a bleak, stark existence. The journey becomes not only more
efficient but also more enjoyable. Brigham Young compared the
sacrifices we make in the journey of mortality to giving up an
old, battered coat.
A new coat.
Warmth. Comfort. A fitting metaphor for wholly putting on our
covenants. We do not have to carry the burdens of sin or the boredom
of unrelenting tiredness. When we turn our lives over to God,
we are encircled and comforted in the arms of His love (See 2
Nephi 1:15).
In the journey
of life it is common to confuse virtue with discomfort (as George
Bernard Shaw accused the English of doing). God doesn’t
want martyrs as much as He wants rejoicers; He wants people who
are brim with holy exuberance. Henry Ward Beecher put the challenge
directly: “The test of Christian character should be that
a man is a joy-bearing agent to the world.” We may pray
that God will fill our minds with His truths, fill our souls with
His goodness, fill our lives with His purposes, and fill our struggles
with meaning.
Maybe the
fundamental lie in all of eternity is that Satan is a fun-loving,
decent sort of fellow. While he may get us in some minor mischief,
he will show us a good time and we will be dusted off when we
get home. Satan does not want us to know that he is not only a
liar and a cheat but also cruel and heartless. He is totally indifferent
to our well-being. In fact, he has a very strong preference for
seeing us suffer, even those who are his “loyal” subjects.
“Satan shall be their father, and misery shall be their
doom” (Moses 7:37).
The fundamental truth in all eternity is that Father wants nothing
for us but our greatest happiness. His whole purpose is to bless
all of us to the very limit of our capacity. “Happiness
is the object and design of our existence; and will be the end
thereof, if we pursue the path that leads to it; and this path
is virtue, uprightness, faithfulness, holiness, and keeping all
the commandments of God” (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph
Smith, p.255).
Many people
carry heavy burdens through mortality. We should never belittle
their load or chide the laborers. Yet we can all draw strength
from the Heavenly assurance that “I will go before your
face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit
shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear
you up” (D&C 84:88).
All of us
who have felt the heartache of sin and the joy of goodness, know
that it is better (more meaningful, satisfying, purposeful, and
rewarding) to wash dishes in God’s house than to party in
Satan’s. That is quite a surprise! As the Psalmist observed:
“For
a day in thy courts is better than a thousand. I had rather be
a doorkeeper in the house of my God, than to dwell in the tents
of wickedness. For the LORD God is a sun and shield: the LORD
will give grace and glory: no good thing will he withhold from
them that walk uprightly. O LORD of hosts, blessed is the man
that trusteth in thee” (Psalms 84:10-12).
Whatever the
reputed “rewards of sin,” they cannot compare with
the blessings of discipleship. May we find joy in being led through
mortality by our Perfect Friend.
