Nephi grieved from the depths of his heart:

My heart exclaimeth: O wretched man that I am! Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh; my soul grieveth because of mine iniquities. (2 Nephi 4:17)

Can you feel Nephi’s pain? He was not merely saddened by his errors, he was grieving his humanness. He was sorrowing for his sins. And he felt bound to them and bounded by them. He hated the fetters of sin!

I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me. (2 Nephi 4:18)

As much as Nephi loved God, his rejoicing felt inauthentic when his life was so riddled with error, weakness—let’s use the word: sin.

And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins; (2 Nephi 4:19)

Nephi poignantly poses the questions that burden earnest seekers of goodness. Why can’t I overcome sin? Why, when I know so much and try so hard, does it continue to bedevil me? Why aren’t I better than I am when He helps me as much as He does?

His whole soul cried out. His spirit yearned to be set free of the exhausting gravity of frailty, imperfection, weakness, lack of resolve—there it is again: sin.

We may be tempted to soften Nephi’s point by imagining that his sins were quite different from ours.  He does not enumerate or detail his sins and we should probably not speculate about them. Yet I think Nephi would be offended if we dulled his point by blunting his message. He said that he sinned. And he knew that sin offended God and burdened his soul.

Nephi jumped right from the question to his post-answer rejoicing with a mere acknowledgment of Christ:

Nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted.

Nephi’s relationship with and experience of Jesus was so great that he turned on a dime. He went from grieving to rejoicing with the utterance of the magical key. He did not give us the formula, the background, the process. He simply launched from earth to heaven. We are left amazed by the change without knowing the process.

In my view, that process was detailed almost a millennium later as part of the Book of Mormon benediction. In a wise and inspired note, Moroni revealed the divine process with elegant precision. As spokesman for Jesus, he said:

 And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. (Ether 12:27)

Most of us feel that we don’t need that kind of help. There are already plenty of people (including we ourselves) who are willing to elaborate on our weakness. Yet there is something extraordinary about the way Jesus does that. He invites us to bring our weakness to Him so He can remove it. He doesn’t see us evaluatively but redemptively.Moroni continued to deliver Jesus’ invitation:

I give unto men weakness that they may be humble;

Weakness is heavenly-designed! Given heaven’s hatred of imperfection, there must be a good reason to provide it; Heaven must place unbelievable value on humility! Maybe humility is the gate to redemption.

My grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me;

There is the magical combination: our humility and His grace! When we set aside our preferences, our agenda, our demands and come to Him with open minds and hearts, He does magic.

For if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.

Wow. By recognizing our dependence on Him and by showing our trust in Him, we open the door to becoming strong. Suddenly we understand the Lord’s baffling message to Paul:

My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. (2 Corinthians 12:9, emphasis added)

When we recognize and acknowledge our weakness, our dependence, Jesus can make us strong. Suddenly self-sufficiency dissolves. In its place comes confidence in the presence of God (See D&C 121:45).

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 Corinthians 12:9-10)

Let’s be sure we understand Nephi, Moroni, and Paul’s message to us: Weakness is the inheritance of mortals. You will sin. Since you care about spiritual things, you will be burdened by sin and weakness. You will hate them. But be careful. Don’t try to set yourself right. Don’t stay away from Him because of oppressive guilt. Only One can remove sin and guilt. Turn to Him. Run to Him! And, in perfect tranquility, trust Him to carry you toward becoming “a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ” (Ephesians 4:13).

This is where faith becomes very real. Do I believe that He wants to save me? Do I believe that He does love me in spite of my persistent mistakes? Do I believe that He will embrace me and sustain me and lead me to an ever-better life? Do I believe that He has an exalted view of my ultimate place?

So the question is not whether we will sin. We will sin. The question is whether we, having resisted sin the best we can, will gladly come to Christ. He can—and gladly will—cleanse our souls, grant meaning to our lives, wipe away our tears, fill our lives with growth, and award us Eternity. That is Moroni’s answer to Nephi’s question.

Questions to ponder:

Have you noticed that, after sinning, you sometimes feel dry, empty, and confused? Have you also noticed that, as quickly as you throw yourself on the merits, mercy, and grace of Christ, that you feel lightened, refreshed, and hopeful? We may feel even better than before we sinned—because our weakness led us to much-needed humility. Usually this does not happen once-for-all. We must go back to Him in humility time and again.

What sins have I committed in the last week, day, or hour? Have I taken them to Christ so that they can be transformed into growth? Or have I allowed my spiritual house to become littered with sin mites that I try to ignore but which ultimately rob me of joy and growth?

Sin and weakness serve God’s purpose when they send us back to Him, humble and earnest. Am I ready to round up my forgotten sins and general weakness and take them to Christ? Will I allow Him to take me to the next level of discipleship?

Rather than getting discouraged with any past efforts at self-improvement, am I willing to call on Him more earnestly forever knowing that only He can save me?

Years ago I read a talk by Truman Madsen in which he asked 20 questions to help us assess whether we are experiencing the Spirit in our lives. His questions included experiences such as feeling healed by the sacrament to speaking beyond our natural ability. I love the idea that we can gauge our spiritual progress. We can know how we are doing in our relationship with God.

Of course there is a problem in trying to assess our own spiritual development. As Elder Maxwell suggested, the true believer in Christ “is apt to be quite innocent of his growing incandescence” (True Believers in Christ at Brigham Young University on 7 October 1980). The closer we get to God, the more we focus on His glory rather than our own progress. Any radiance from us is truly reflected light.

It is good that we focus on God rather than ourselves. Yet there is probably value in marking our development. It can be fundamentally encouraging to realize that God has made progress in rebuilding our souls.

Taking the measure of our progress

Most of my life I have felt as if I was a spiritual failure. I had lofty goals for goodness and I knew I wasn’t attaining them. Yet, as I have come to know God better and trust His purposes more, I think I have perceived Him making some small progress in my stubborn soul.

So I share my personal list of markers. I do not have 20 of them as Brother Madsen did; but these are the signs in my soul that have given me hope that God can yet make something of me.

1. We love to be with the saints. “He that loveth his brother, abideth in the light” (I John 2:10) We know that our fellow travelers have their quirks. We are dimly mindful of hurts and hard words. But any remembered pains are swamped by the sheer joy of seeing so many good people, who share the common struggle toward Goodness. While we may all love one another, each of us shows our affection in different ways. Nancy and I like to wade into our ward and start hugging. We hug the little ones, the big ones, and the in-between ones—that is, we hug them if they seem to like hugs. Some seem to prefer an earnest handshake. So we offer handshakes. I feel sure that the love we feel for our ward members is a heavenly gift.

2. Irritation diminishes. “And now I would that ye should be……full of patience and longsuffering” (Alma 7:23) Anyone who is not irritated with someone at church is either ready to be translated, or isn’t spending enough time at church. We will all be irritated at times. And the irritation seems to bunch up around certain people. Brother So-and-so thinks he knows everything. Sister So-and-so seems cold and distant. It is natural for us to ritualize our reaction so that we bristle at the sight of the person. It is also natural for us to judge the others and justify ourselves. But the natural man is an enemy to God. As God works on us, we feel ourselves less and less inclined to be irritated. We become more interested in the life story that brought them to our lives the way they are. We look for ways to both understand and help them. Irritation is gradually crowded out by compassion.

3. We think less of ourselves. This has a double meaning. We not only think about ourselves less often but we also are less big in our own story. You probably remember Ammon’s answer when Aaron accused him of bragging: “I do not boast in my own strength, nor in my own wisdom; . . . I will rejoice in my God” (Alma 26:11). The spiritually mature think more and more of Jesus. As we mature, we recognize our dependence on Him for all good things. We may become less dismayed by our humanness and more ready to call on His goodness. We speak warmly and lovingly of Him. As we move from center stage of our own dramas, the star of our story is increasingly Jesus.

4. We see His goodness everywhere. “I will praise thee for ever; because thou hast done it: and I will wait on thy name; for it is good before thy saints” (Psalm 52:9). The more we experience God, the more we know that He consecrates even our afflictions for our gain. We are less afraid of trials and more grateful for blessings. We know that our lives are presided over by a perfectly loving and perfectly wise Father. While seeing His goodness in everything may be more difficult for those of us who think we should exercise significant control in our lives, or have trouble trusting, even we can learn to relax in His gracious arms.

5. We get revelation. “Yea, behold, I will tell you in your mind and in your heart, by the Holy Ghost, which shall come upon you and which shall dwell in your heart” (D&C 8:2-3). Revelation comes in many ways. Sometimes an understanding of a scripture tiptoes into our minds. Sometimes we find unexpected words flowing from us as we teach or testify. Sometimes we feel the shock of truth when we hear someone else teach. Maybe we even find new desires sneaking into our prayers. It is always cause for celebration when we discover that God is patiently teaching and guiding us.

6. We feel heavenly power. While we are not called to control the universe, God often allows His humble followers to join Him in accomplishing holy purposes. He allowed humble, meek Enoch to move mountains and redirect rivers in order to protect His people. Sometimes God allows us to participate with Him in something divine. Perhaps we feel power flow through us as we pronounce a blessing. Maybe we feel redemption flow through us as we perform temple ordinances for long-departed ancestors. Or we may sense Him sending us on His errands as we make ourselves available to help others. As Joseph learned in Liberty Jail (see D&C 121), real power often has nothing to do with earthly power. What a blessing that God shares His power with us!

7. We rejoice. Several times every week, God traverses eternity to put His strong arms around me and lift me off the ground. I am dumbfounded when He does it. I join Ammon in words of wonder: “Who could have supposed that our God would have been so merciful as to have snatched us from our awful, sinful, and polluted state?” (Alma 26:17). Sometimes it is the words of a hymn that jar me with joy. Sometimes it is a harmonious truth that leaps out of scripture. Sometimes it is quite inexplicable; God just gives a random hug. Oh! How grateful I am!

I make no claim that this is a comprehensive or definitive list. It’s just my list—my attempt to note and appreciate the ways God continues to bless and refine one imperfect son. There are lots of times when I fall short, and lug myself along the path begrudging mortality its aches and pains. But those are not the measure of our progress. It is the flourishes of the Spirit that testify that we are on the path toward God.

Behind each of these markers  is one great change: our motivation—our hearts. As we progress spiritually, we are less likely to do things out of grudging obedience. We don’t do things to check them off the checklist. We don’t do them for recognition or acclaim. We do them because of the relationship we have with God. Because we love Him with all our hearts, we join Him in His work. We assess our progress not to celebrate our accomplishments, but to recognize His graciousness.

Celebrating the milestones

As I think about our halting progress, I think of our dear little grandson Will. When he took his first faltering steps, we whooped and hollered. We acted as if all creation should celebrate!

I wonder if loved ones on the other side of the veil do the same thing every time we pass another spiritual milestone. We finally learn to trust God with some corner of our minds, hearts, and lives and joy busts loose in Eternity! We learn to hear the voice of God and angels sing praises. Truly, those that be with us are more than we can comprehend (See Elisha in 2 Kings 6:16).

While our progress may seem sporadic and spotty, God is able to do His redemptive work. He is able to refine and enlarge us if we will cooperative, even reluctantly, with His perfect purposes.

One of my all-time favorite quotes is by Irving Becker: “If you don’t like someone, the way he holds his spoon will make you furious; if you do like him, he can turn his plate over into your lap and you won’t mind” (Reader’s Digest, 1975, p. 19).

What Becker’s words suggest to me is that we all make choices to be furious or forgiving. If we choose to be furious, we find plenty of reasons to justify our judgments. After all, we all have human partners just crammed with frailties—including funny ways of holding their spoons.

In contrast, if we choose to be forgiving, we find a wealth of reasons to be pleased with our partners and happy in our relationships. A plate of food in the lab is transformed into a golden memory by loving partners. As two marriage scholars have observed: “The focus in marriage education programs on problem-solving skills is woefully inadequate because we now know that the emotional climate of marriage matters. . . . If spouses have a reservoir of good will and they show their affection regularly, they are far more likely to be able to work through their differences, to warm to each other’s point of view, and to cope effectively with stress” (p. 955, Huston & Melz, 2004).

Communication and problem-solving are not enough. But how do we develop that “reservoir of good will” that carries us past the challenges? That’s the key question. Gottman (1994) gives the answer: “In a stable marriage…the partners tend to view each other through “rose-colored” glasses. They assume that each other’s positive, admirable characteristics are an intrinsic part of their personality rather than occasional flukes. The good things about their relationship are considered stable and far-reaching while the bad patches or areas of tension are considered to be fleeting and situational. Over time, [unhappy] couples pay ever more attention to their spouse’s actions that confirm their negative assumptions. Over time you [can] become conditioned to look for and react to negatives in your spouse and your marriage. This becomes a self-fulfilling prophesy: the more you expect and search for negatives, the more likely you are to find them, and to highlight their significance in your mind” (pp. 118-120).

In other words, we find what we look for. If we look for the limits, faults, and flaws, we get dissatisfaction. If we look for the qualities, strengths, and nobility, we get admiration. Psychologists uniformly recognize that this is a bias. We do not see our spouses objectively. We filter our perceptions through our chosen lenses—either loving or judging.

All this is boiled down by God to a simple recommendation: Have charity. See as He sees. Serve as He serves. Love as He loves.

Just a footnote: I have known a handful of married persons who were so extreme in their narcissism that a fully cooperative relationship with them was not possible. For the vast majority of us, however, this is not the problem. Our judging and scorekeeping prevent us from seeing what God sees: One of His cherished children. The mortal shell does not have to prevent us from seeing the divine when we wear the glasses of charity.

References:Gottman, J. (1994). Why marriages succeed or fail and how you can make yours last. New York: Simon and Schuster.

Huston, T. L., & Melz, H. (2004). The case for (promoting) marriage: The devil is in the details. Journal of Marriage and Family, 66, 943-958.

Reader’s Digest (1975). Pocket treasury of great quotations. Pleasantville, NY: Reader’s Digest.

By H. Wallace Goddard and Barbara Keil

“Men occasionally stumble over the truth, but most of them pick themselves up and hurry off as if nothing ever happened.” -Winston Churchill

I have a good friend who often hesitates to make decisions or commitments. She wants to keep her options open to continue evaluating her choices. In her mind, this will enable her to avoid making mistakes. While she is right that it is a good idea for us to do our homework when making choices, her fear of making the wrong decision sometimes prevents her from making any commitment at all.  She loses out on opportunities and experiences that would benefit her. This decision rule could be called the “safety first” rule.

Another good woman I know strives to do her best in every aspect of her life. As she evaluates how to invest her time and energy, she constantly challenges herself to the highest standards. She becomes overwhelmed and depressed when she feels she doesn’t live up to those standards. Her decision rule could be labeled, “anything short of perfection is failure”.

The dangers of our decision rules 

All of us have underlying principles that come into play when we make choices about how to approach our lives. I’m going to call them “decision rules”. Decision rules are mental maps made up of personal beliefs or preferences that make us likely to think or act in certain ways. Often we think our decisions are based on wise and rational choices. But frequently they can be an expression of our fears, worries or hopes. There are many factors that contribute to decision rules, for example: the desire to be accepted, be in charge, feel loved, be successful, etc.

We all have unspoken decision rules but we almost never examine them. We usually aren’t even aware that we have them. As a result of not understanding the decision rules we are applying, we often make decisions and then wonder why they turn out badly.

Decision rules can be limiting and cause us to behave ineffectively. For example, someone who has been hurt in a prior relationship may adopt the decision rule to never fully trust anyone again. This might seem to serve as protection from future hurt. But a lack of trust will limit that person from fully entering into a loving relationship even with a deserving individual.

Even decision rules that seem founded on correct principles can become problematic when applied by our “natural man” mindset (see Mosiah 3:19). “I will always speak up for the gospel” can be a good standard when it leads us to seek missionary opportunities. But it can become ugly when we use it to excuse contentious arguments with nonmembers or members. The decision rule “I will surround myself with others who share my beliefs” appears to be a reasonable choice, but could cause us to miss out on opportunities to serve those outside of our ward community.

Rewiring our thinking 

When a car does not perform optimally, we bring it to a mechanic who opens up the hood and looks at the inner workings in order to diagnose and fix the problem. Sometimes when we are not operating optimally we may need to “look under the hood” and examine our decision making process. We may need to change some parts.

How do we discover the decision rules that guide our lives? Consider the areas of your life: relationships, work, use of time, spiritual progress, growth opportunities, service, use of financial resources, current challenges. What are the problems that recur in your life? What decision rule might be behind the behavior that you know to be counter-productive?

What are the faulty decision rules that have held you hostage?

We might also ask ourselves in what ways we commonly break commandments. Maybe we get angry or justify unholy behavior. The desperate squeak from our consciences is evidence that we need to do more than try harder; we may need to change the rules that govern our behavior.

The person who is regularly timid may need to experiment with some courage. The person who worries about having everything in perfect order may choose to be selective about that perfectionism. The person who feels hurt by the comments of others may need to get outside his or her own view. The person who makes excuses for bad behavior may need to begin accepting accountability.

As we examine and challenge our decision rules, we can progress toward greater goodness. Yet sometimes when we analyze and diagnose our faulty thinking processes, we get into an endless loop. We may discover we have implemented yet another flawed decision rule: “This behavior cannot be changed.” We are using imperfect instruments to repair a defective system. Our attempts at self-repair often end in confusion and despair.

Rewiring by the Master Mechanic

We cannot sort out our minds and set them right when our fundamental problem is that we are fallen. We are all struggling entry-level mechanics with elementary tools in our repair cases. Yet the repair of fallenness requires a Master Mechanic. I recommend we patiently allow Him to tinker with us and our thinking. He will repair a fault here and a misunderstanding there. He will keep improving us. If we become unduly impatient and take over the job, we are likely to create a mess. If we patiently allow Him to tune and repair us, we will become what He is: a Master Mechanic.

To help the Master Mechanic fix our wiring, we should gladly submit to His diagnosis and repair. If we hold back because we like doing things our own way (this is a version of pride) or we don’t like to get help (this is self-sufficiency) or because we worry about what we will be asked to sacrifice (fear), then we remain broken and dysfunctional. We drag our way through our lives never functioning quite right and never really improving.

How do we get Him to rewire us? Little by little the Spirit will point out our ways of thinking that need fixing; our fears, worries, reluctances, lack of faith, shortsightedness, misjudgments, etc. As He reveals the need, we open our minds to a new way of thinking. We align ourselves with His guidance for our lives instead of our faulty decision rules. He will work to set us right.

The ideal decision rule

When Jesus had to make what was His most critical choice, He voiced the decision rule that guided every aspect of His life. “Not as I will, but as thou wilt.” (Matt. 26:39)

This, of course, is the ideal decision rule: to turn our hearts, minds, and energy over to Him. We set aside our preferences and prejudices. We turn to Him and ask for His counsel. How would He have us view the situations we face? What would His advice be to us regarding how to approach our thoughts and actions? This only happens when we make the fateful decision to accept His decision rule: What would God have me do?

My friend who has been paralyzed from committing to new experiences because of a “safety first” decision rule is gradually learning to trust the Lord as He leads her towards embarking upon new growth opportunities. The woman who previously felt depressed due to her “I must be perfect” decision rule is learning that He does not require perfection to love her. As we continue to seek the Lord and His guidance rather than leaning on our own understanding, we will infuse all our decisions with His perfect wisdom.

Like most spiritual progress, we cheerfully do all we are able, and then we turn ourselves over to God. We try to re-program our thinking while knowing that it is ultimately God who will change our hearts.

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Consider the stern warning provided to our times by the Lord Himself:

For whoso cometh not unto me is under the bondage of sin.And whoso receiveth not my voice is not acquainted with my voice, and is not of me.And by this you may know the righteous from the wicked, and that the whole world groaneth under sin and darkness even now.And your minds in times past have been darkened because of unbelief, and because you have treated lightly the things you have received—Which vanity and unbelief have brought the whole church under condemnation.And this condemnation resteth upon the children of Zion, even all.And they shall remain under this condemnation until they repent and remember the new covenant, even the Book of Mormon and the former commandments which I have given them, not only to say, but to do according to that which I have written—That they may bring forth fruit meet for their Father’s kingdom; otherwise there remaineth a scourge and judgment to be poured out upon the children of Zion.For shall the children of the kingdom pollute my holy land? Verily, I say unto you, Nay. (D&C 84: 51-59, emphasis added)

Other covenants treated lightly

In the last few years I have had experiences that cause me to wonder whether we are also under condemnation for taking lightly another covenant—temple covenants in general and temple marriage in particular.Several times I have heard people express a variant of the following: “Our marriage has been so hard. I have tried everything to improve it. I have prayed and fasted and begged God in the temple. After an extended period, I have felt that the Lord released me from my covenants. I feel free to divorce my spouse.”

First, let me say that there are legitimate reasons for divorce. But, after making temple covenants, they are extreme and unusual. Abuse is the clear-cut case. When a spouse endangers life and limb or entirely removes agency, then divorce may be necessary.

Jesus Himself stated the case very bluntly: “Moses because of the hardness of your hearts suffered you to put away your wives: but from the beginning it was not so. And I say unto you, Whosoever shall put away his wife, except it be for fornication, and shall marry another, committeth adultery: and whoso marrieth her which is put away doth commit adultery” (Matthew 19:8-9).

I suspect that when we take divorce lightly, we have hearts as hard as the ancient Jews. I think that the residents of Heaven weep when we wear and shed our covenants lightly. We thwart God’s redemptive and refining purposes in our lives when we fail to take covenants seriously.

Imposing our answers on God

Another part of the ritual drama troubles me. When a person prays for months or years to get heavenly permission to leave covenants, I am reminded of Martin Harris and his insistence on taking the 116 pages of Book of Mormon translation. He simply was not willing to accept the Lord’s counsel. When we beg and beg to get our preferred answer, we may be thwarting God’s purposes. We may be imposing our will on our lives to our eternal detriment. We are much better in God’s hands.God’s answers usually have a character all their own. They tend to be simple and challenging. They tend to ask us to honor covenants and keep an eternal perspective. They usually ask us to be more of what He is.

For example, I suspect that a revelation from God is NOT likely to sound like: “Yes. I know what you mean. That husband of yours is a pain! You have borne more than enough. You are free to move on.” I think it is more likely that He will say something like: “Yes. Covenants challenge you. And those challenges are designed to make you more like me: patient, long-suffering, gentle, meek, and loving. It is hard. Yet, as you resolve to do what is required, I will strengthen you, sustain you, and give you peace.”

God’s process is surprisingly predictable. He asks us to move from questions like: “Why aren’t I getting what I need and deserve?” to questions like “How can I draw on the power of Heaven to better honor my covenants?” God’s process almost always requires us to set aside our agenda and accept His. He asks that we be humble rather than demanding. He asks us to be faith-filled rather than despairing. He asks us to repent ourselves rather than our partners. He asks that we call on Him for merciful sustaining rather than storybook lives. We cannot have great relationships without great reliance on the One who creates and sustains healthy relationships.

God honors those who honor covenants

There are some who face garden-variety complaints within their marriages. Instead of blaming their spouses, issuing demands for change, and day-dreaming of life with a better partner, if they pull the weeds in their own souls their marriages can flourish.

But what of those who have made sincere attempts to be loving and supportive and continue to face an emotionally distant or argumentative spouse?

I have a beloved friend who once called me and asked how much he should bear as his wife detested him, attacked him, and even  flirted with another man. I told him that I thought he should do all that he was able to do so that, when he faced God, he could attest that he had made every effort possible. My friend stayed and acted nobly. In the end, his wife divorced him. But he did all that he could. And he did it cheerfully and lovingly. I honor this good man. I believe God honors him as well.

Would God desire for us to hold onto a loveless or emotionally draining marriage? I don’t know. I honestly don’t. Only God can speak for God. But I can speak for a principle. God asked Jesus to hold onto us even as it shredded His mortal body. Jesus held onto us even when the price was incalculable and pain intolerable. Are we capable of holding on in the face of a marriage filled with painful difficulties and disappointments? Probably not—at least,not on our own. But if we call upon the mercy, strength, and healing of Jesus, we can bear things in partnership with the Savior that no human alone can bear. And if we call upon the sustaining power of the atonement, we can face our marital trials with hope and serenity.

His sternness is sweet

I fear that a secular doctrine has crept into the world and the Church and infected us. If something is hard, I shouldn’t have to do it. Challenges should be minor. Pain should be no more than a hiccup. We want pain relievers. We certainly don’t want gut-wrenching and soul-stretching challenges.So does God intend for us to bail out of soul-stretching challenges to achieve an easier path?

“Let us here observe, that a religion that does not require the sacrifice of all things never has power sufficient to produce the faith necessary unto life and salvation; … it is through the medium of the sacrifice of all earthly things that men do actually know that they are doing the things that are well pleasing in the sight of God. When a man has offered in sacrifice all that he has for the truth’s sake, not even withholding his life, and believing before God that he has been called to make this sacrifice because he seeks to do his will, he does know, most assuredly, that God does and will accept his sacrifice and offering, and that he has not, nor will not seek his face in vain. Under these circumstances, then, he can obtain the faith necessary for him to lay hold on eternal life” (Joseph Smith, Lectures on Faith [1985], 69).

In its own way, God’s sternness in insisting upon sacrifice is sweet. He does not want to redeem us while we are flawed, irresolute and drenched in sin. He wants to remove the sin and make us like Him. This will require some high-pressure washing.We should not expect nor ask for a life devoid of sacrifice. And yet we can find hope in the assurance that we will not seek His face in vain. The Savior bore all our pains so that He knows how to succor His people. To those who groan under the weight of a marriage seemingly defined by loneliness, ill will, or disagreements, there is hope that the Savior knows your pain and stands ready to sustain you. During our times of desperation, He is anxious to be called in. Our extremity is His opportunity.

Jesus lamented several times that He was as a hen yearning to gather vulnerable chicks, but they would not be rescued, He is speaking to us as well. He invites us to be lifted by His power. If we conclude that we have done all we feel capable of to deal with a suffering marriage and as a result there is no longer any hope, we forego our opportunity to be sustained and ultimately healed by Him. The bracing reality is that we cannot be saved and our marriages cannot be saved without the merits, mercy and grace of the Holy One. There is no other way.

In writing this, it is not my intent to judge, condemn or pile guilt upon anyone. I do feel called to invite us saints to use the power of Christ to honor the seemingly impossible demands of our covenants. And temple marriage is the highest covenant. I believe that the greatest blessings will come to us as we bring to the altar of our covenants all that we have and all that we are. It is not easy. But we should not expect that making us godly will happen without real stretching. I believe that all of us should be anxiously engaged in strengthening our covenants in every way we can.

May God help us honor our sacred covenants.

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Thanks to Barbara Keil for her astute observations and helpful additions to this article.

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Or you may be interested in getting a copy of Drawing Heaven into Your Marriage, the gospel-centered marriage book by Brother Goddard.

Also, Brother Goddard has a new 2-talk set out: “The Heart of a Healthy Marriage and a Happy Family.”

A powerful idea from Martin Seligman’s excellent book, Authentic happiness: “Authentic happiness comes from identifying and cultivating your most fundamental strengths and using them every day in work, love, play, and parenting.”

Many of us fret endlessly about our mistakes, faults, and shortcomings. Yet the key to our happiness is using our god-given strengths regularly.

What are your strengths?

How can you create more opportunities to use your strengths this week?

We gingerly pick our way through life’s options trying to minimize our distress and maximize our enjoyment. We flinch at the prospect of an all-vegetable dinner. We contort ourselves to reach each nutrient-free dessert. It would seem that the winners in life are those who navigate life on a cruise ship.

Yet few people experience such uninterrupted sweetness in life. We have a friend who fights an endless battle against numbing depression. Another struggles (with little success) to master compulsions that repeatedly have devastated her life. Another dear friend anguishes with doubts about life and God.

Adult realities are often quite different from our youthful dreams. In the course of our married life, Nancy has had many miscarriages. We lost count somewhere around twenty. In the midst of the early miscarriages, we prayed, got priesthood blessings, spent many hours in doctors’ offices, and fasted. But the miscarriages—and frustration—continued. At one time of keen disappointment, I even threatened heaven with permanent ill-will. “Why should so many people who don’t want children get them while those of us who yearn for them are denied them?”

As a result of our unanswered hope, I learned a very useful lesson: Be grateful in all things. I learned to say each time we lost another pregnancy, “That is great.” If asked why it was great, I could not give a reason. I merely knew that it felt good to go beyond accepting our disappointment with resignation to embracing it with joy.

Our experiences provided a priceless and timeless lesson. I no longer demand that God explain His purposes to me. It is enough that it happened. I trust that He will use it to bless us. Indeed, He already has. When I simply trust Him, I feel a keen joy in faith. Faith bathes every experience with sublime purpose. I still do not prefer miscarriages, but, when they come, I rejoice.

“Verily I say unto you my friends, fear not, let your hearts be comforted; yea, rejoice evermore, and in everything give thanks” (D&C 98:1).

In everything give thanks, for the good, the bad, and the baffling.

“Waiting patiently on the Lord, for your prayers have entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth, and are recorded with this seal and testament—the Lord hath sworn and decreed that they shall be granted” (D&C 98:2).

Somehow, in ways we cannot comprehend, God is doing exactly what He has promised to do. He is blessing us. It is possible that the only purpose of the miscarriages was to teach us faith. If so, that is reason enough to bear the pain. Our friend who struggles with depression is inexpressibly grateful for glimpses of light in her life. Our friend who is troubled by compulsions has learned to hold to cherished family members. The friend beset by doubts finds simple ways to serve.

“Therefore, he giveth this promise unto you, with an immutable covenant that they shall be fulfilled; and all things wherewith you have been afflicted shall work together for your good, and to my name’s glory, saith the Lord” (D&C 98:3).

A cynic may scoff, “Your pain, your afflictions, your suffering work for your good and His glory? Life is only a senseless tangle of anguish with merciful periods of numbness.” So it may seem.

Yet the universe is packed with irony. The keenest may be that God has so structured the universe that believing and disbelieving are equally viable. Only a very brave God would do such a thing. But He has woven assurances of His redemptiveness into the fabric of the universe. Only a compassionate God would do such a thing. When we put on the mantle of faith, a quiet confidence distills upon us.

Many Nephites found that as they grew in their humility and faith, their souls were filled with joy and consolation (Helaman 3:35). On top of present comfort, God offers eternal blessing to those who look beyond the immediate pain.

“And he who receiveth all things with thankfulness shall be made glorious; and the things of this earth shall be added unto him, even an hundred fold, yea, more” (D&C 78:19).

Our national tragedies can unite us in faith. Our family struggles can join us in love. Our personal disappointments can refine our purposes and strengthen our faith. Perhaps the surest sign of faith in a believer is that tragedy evokes submission and praise.

Lord, I know not what I ought to ask of thee; Thou only knowest what I need; Thou lovest me better than I know how to love myself. O Father! give to Thy child that which he himself knows not how to ask. I dare not ask either for crosses or consolations: I simply present myself before Thee, I open my heart to Thee. . . . Smite, or heal; depress me, or raise me up: I adore all thy purposes without knowing them; I am silent; I offer myself in sacrifice; I yield myself to Thee; I would have no other desire than to accomplish Thy will. Teach me to pray. Pray Thyself in me. Amen. (François de la Mothe Fenelon, quoted in Fosdick, Meaning of Prayer, pp. 58–59).

Adversity is a sacred trust. It is the raw material for making gold. When we put our earthly experiences on the altar of faith, He transforms them into glory.

“He 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).

Armed with faith we see the blessing in adversity.

Nothing is more important, or more rewarding, than strengthening and nurturing your relationship with your eternal sweetheart. Whether you’re newlyweds or have celebrated your golden anniversary, it’s never too early, or too late, to improve the quality of your marriage.At the ‘Becoming a Celestial Partner’ Retreat you will learn how to magnify the bonds of marriage and get more out of your sacred union, including:1. Being more CHRIST-CENTERED2. Stronger FRIENDSHIP3. Increased UNDERSTANDINGWe know that one of our most essential purposes on this Earth is to create a loving and powerful celestial marriage with our eternal companion, and yet we often allow the distractions of daily life to sidetrack us from that objective.The ‘Becoming a Celestial Partner’ retreat offers a fast track to constructive change in a fun and relaxed environment. You can expect to experience profound, lasting results that will transform your marriage. At the retreat you will be given the tools you need to keep your marriage strong and productive long after the retreat has ended.What better time to experience a rebirth of love, connection, and meaning in your marriage than now?When: Friday, June 19th (6pm to 9 pm) to Saturday, June 20th (9am to 2pm)Where: Coral Desert Health Center, 1490 E. Foremaster Drive, Suite 340, St. George, UT 84770Cost: $89/couple (includes registration, materials and snacks, but not lodging or meals).Your guides for this transformational event will be Wally Goddard and his son, Andy Goddard. Wally is a Professor and Family Life Specialist with the Arkansas Cooperative Extension Service. He has created numerous family programs and a PBS television series. He is a popular columnist for Meridian Magazine. Andy works as a trainer and speaker in the areas of parenting, marriage, and self development. He lives in Cedar Hills, Utah, and is the father of 4 children. You’ll also get to hear from their better halves, Nancy and Natalie!Our marriage retreat creates deep, meaningful change by focusing on the core principles of marital happiness. You’ll learn practical ways to improve your marriage that can do more for your relationship than spending months in regular counseling!What makes this couples retreat so effective?1. A Focus on RESULTS—Resolve issues effectively using a Gospel-centered approach2. A Chance to RECONNECT—Spend a weekend away from distractions getting to know your sweetheart on a whole new level3. REAL Tools, Not Just Talk —Learn a powerful range of easy, effective tools to create positive changes in your relationshipA good marriage retreat generally costs several hundred or even thousands of dollars to participate in, whereas we offer a great marriage retreat for less than $100. That’s because we have a genuine commitment to helping couples fulfill their divine potential. We didn’t want cost to be a factor in preventing any couple from participating in this transformational event. However, don’t procrastinate- space is limited!

The Backstory

The Bible gives us only fragments of life stories. Characters drop into the narrative with no backstory and disappear with no description of their futures.  We are challenged by the drama that is told but are mystified by the drama that remains untold. What brought the people to the Bible stage? What pains and disappointments did they bring to their brief appearances? What was the result of their few minutes with Divinity? Was their journey like ours? Or were the characters in the Bible accounts different from us?

Since the Bible does not provide details for any but a few, we are left to wonder. Or to speculate. None of us is authorized to declare the backstory. But maybe God will forgive us if we try to humanize those people who show up in His story by imagining stories that seem plausible—or at least possible. Perhaps, more importantly, we will better appreciate God’s goodness as we see ways that their stories may be like our own.

The story of the woman who washes Jesus’ feet in the house of Simon the Pharisee (Luke 7: 36-50) provides a beautiful contrast between the small, shriveled stinginess of the Pharisees and the infinite graciousness and bigness of the Savior. Jesus invites us to see this earth’s travelers more as He does than as the Pharisees did.

But we are not just local dignitaries. He also invites us to see ourselves as those desperately needy of His grace. We are travelers who come to His feet with tears.

Consider a backstory that might help us understand what might have brought a broken woman to Jesus to be made whole.

She stumbled from the dirty dwelling feeling empty. Empty? Maybe the feeling was closer to worthless. She felt like a filthy rag that was tossed aside after outlasting its usefulness.

She couldn’t decide whether to rage or despair. Again she had been used. The sullen stranger did not even look in her eyes. He did not talk to her. He took what he wanted and pushed her out of his bed, out of his grim place. The pay was hardly worth the humiliation.

She sagged onto a crude wooden box in the alley. Emptiness yielded to worthlessness and battled with the cold embers that once were rage. She really had no place to go. “Home” was nothing more than a ramshackle place that no one wanted on the edge of town.

She might have sat there for a long time if she hadn’t heard voices. She roused from her dreary reflection, straightened her posture, and dusted her robes. With fixed resolve she marched toward her home on the far side of the market and the growing crowd.

Villagers babbled excitedly about something. She tried to hear their words. But, when they saw her, they either turned away and whispered or stopped and stared at her. She was used to the staring. She was used to their coldness.

She turned the corner into the market and stumbled into the center of a drama. Just in front of her was Thaddeus and, crouched down talking to him, holding his hand was a Rabbi. She froze. She herself had talked to Thaddeus when no one was around. But she had never touched him. She had figured that it was bad enough to be seen as a sinner without being known as a friend of lepers.

The crowd watched Thaddeus and the Rabbi. In some faces was horror. How could a teacher of the people embrace one who was unclean? How could he violate such a sacred law and ensure personal defilement? Was he a lunatic?

On other faces was puzzlement. It was clear to even a casual observer that Thaddeus was a leper. But they had heard about a Rabbi who cured infirmities, plagues, evil spirits, and blindness. Were they witnessing a miracle or a travesty? They watched in wonderment. The crowd buzzed and stared.

She noticed that the Rabbi looked warmly into Thaddeus’ eyes. He gently lifted his chin and spoke quietly to him. Thaddeus seemed to quake beneath the glare of attention. The Rabbi paused, and spoke distinctly. “Be thou clean.” Thaddeus convulsed, fell toward the Rabbi and wept. Warm and gentle arms encircled the leper. It seemed like time stood still. The Rabbi stood over Thaddeus. He reached down and took the leper by the hand. Only Thaddeus was no longer gnarled and fusty. He was whole. He stood straight, strong, and incredulous.

Sarai was aware that some in the crowd were dividing their judgment between the Rabbi and her. Her discomfort was growing—but she wanted to understand what she was seeing. She had long ago given up any hope for kindness—and yet she hungered for the grace she had just witnessed. She couldn’t leave.

The Rabbi looked past Thaddeus and directly into her eyes. His gentle gaze studied her face. She found herself yearning to run to him. He had healed Thaddeus. Could he somehow heal her of loneliness, filthiness, and despair? She dared not believe it was possible. She dared not believe there was anything special enough about her to warrant his attention. She had made too many mistakes, too many foul choices.

She turned and shuffled away. Yet she was haunted. This Rabbi wasn’t like other men. His look was not greedy or dismissive. It was filled with compassion. It offered hope. She ached to run back to him and ask who he was and why he was different. But her hunger to be out of the public eye was stronger than her prospect of hope.

As she hurried homeward, the streets were quieter and emptier. She arrived at her hut and threw herself on her mat. Her cold indifference was under assault from both despair and hope. Finally she wept angry tears. What hope was there for her? Why had she let herself be touched by a strange Rabbi? What could he do for her? What could anyone do for her?

When there were no tears left, Sarai wiped her face. She sat cold and empty. After long minutes, she turned to the corner of her hut and reached into a recess in the wall. Carefully she removed an alabaster box of ointment. Wearily she stared at her one token of respectability. She had invested much of her ill-gotten gains in this emblem of decency. She had skipped many a meal in order to amass this perfume. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath.

She opened the box with plans to anoint herself with the sweet smell of respectability. But somehow it didn’t seem to be enough. Her soul was weary. She no longer had the energy to defend herself against the world’s insults. She sat empty.

Then the thought came. Was it a thought or an impulse? Whatever it was, it was fully unexpected. She would go to Him. Why would she throw herself on the Rabbi’s mercy? Why would she further humiliate herself? But her mission was clear: She would anoint the Rabbi with the only thing she had of value. She held the alabaster box to her breast and filled her lungs with fresh resolve. She pushed out of her hut toward her future.

She hurried down the street toward the market. Somewhere in the back of her mind was the nagging concern: What do I think this Rabbi can do for me? How will my life be any different after I anoint him? Why am I risking disappointment yet again? But the background concern could not draw attention from her resolve.

Sarai arrived in the market and was surprised to find that it appeared to be a normal day in the market. The Rabbi was nowhere to be seen. She scanned the market desperately. She ran to the fish seller and begged, “Where is the Rabbi?” He grunted and turned away.

She ran to the beggar with the same question. His sad eyes looked at her. He nodded down the alley. She scuttled that direction. As she walked she spotted a group in the alley.

Sarai pushed through the group that stood as mute spectators of the Rabbi at meat with several of the leading Pharisees in the home of Simon.

She pushed her way to the entrance of the courtyard. Did she dare to intrude on the Pharisees? One of the men in the crowd seemed to read her thoughts and leaned to block her path. She had imagined an encounter with the Rabbi like the one she witnessed between the Rabbi and Thaddeus. Now that seemed impossible. The Rabbi was the guest of the Pharisees. No woman was welcome and certainly not a woman of her reputation.

Sarai sagged. The tears began to seep from her soul. Her only hope was just beyond reach. Suddenly she could not wait. She pushed past the men and into the courtyard. She stumbled to the Rabbi’s feet and poured the ointment on his dusty feet. Her tears blended with the ointment as her soul poured out.

The gasp of disgust that radiated from Simon and his friends did not even matter. She was focused on the Rabbi. Would he pull away from her? He did not. He placed His hand on her head and she felt the warmth of His love. The tears poured from her years of shame. For the first time in her life, she felt loved without being exploited. She felt cared for rather than judged. She felt a peace she had never known. The dusty feet that trod the hills of Galilee carried her soul to a place she had never known.

She was oblivious to a scandalized crowd, the appalled Pharisees, the conversation between the Pharisees and the Rabbi. She only saw the Rabbi. Then He turned to her and she flinched. Would He, having accepted her gift, now push her away? Would He demand that she put her life in order and become the person she had never been able to be? Would He rebuke her?

No. He turned His warm face full to hers, took her face in both hands and spoke words she never imagined possible: “Dear Sister, your sins are forgiven.”

He poured goodness into her soul with His gaze.

Forgiven? The ugliness of her life could be removed? Her sense of humiliation could be taken away? He was seeing possibilities and worth in her? It didn’t seem possible.

Jesus stood and turned to Simon and his fellow Pharisees. She heard Him pronounce a blessing upon them. “May your home be filled with the goodness you grant to those who are lost.” The Pharisees sat impenetrably before Him.

Jesus turned back to Sarai. “Come.” He lifted her from the ground. She followed Him as He walked from the courtyard into the crowd of onlookers who parted before Him.

He walked some distance before He stopped and turned to a humble couple advanced in age. “John and Martha, one of my children has need of your help. Will you take her in and make her your own?” They trembled an answer, “Gladly, Master.”

He took Sarai by the arm and pulled her forward. “This is your new family. This is your new life. Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

Peace. When was the last time she had felt peace? She could not remember. But as Jesus was swallowed up in the crowd, she felt it. She was changed by it. Jesus had taken away her dead soul and replaced it with new life.

She didn’t know what the future held. But she wanted to always remember the gift the Rabbi had given her in return. Hope. Possibility. Compassion. Worth. Love.

She thought of others she knew who still lived in the despair and hopelessness she had experienced. She hoped she might one day be a messenger of His love and goodness to them. She hoped that her new life would give hope to others who were lost.

Of course we do not know anything about her fate. Did she become a faithful saint in the local branch? How many members accepted her and how many looked down on her? Did she follow her new family to a new community where she could start anew? Was she ultimately blessed with a loving husband and children of her own? We do not know. But I look forward to the day when I can sit at her feet and listen as she tells me the rest of her story.

Sometimes we become so familiar with scripture stories that we tend to reduce them to recorded events. We all know the story of the woman who washed and anointed the Savior’s feet. We have studied the description of her action and the Savior’s response. We have discussed it in Sunday school classes and have been instructed by the story.

Yet do we ponder the real woman involved? Do we consider the richness and personal meaning of her life story? Imagining her backstory makes the event even more meaningful.

Can some of us relate to her experience? Do we know what it feels like to be dismissed, ignored or judged by others? Do we feel defined by our sins and mistakes? Do we wish it were possible to change ourselves or our circumstances?

His invitation to her is also available to us. Have we run to Him with broken hearts throwing ourselves on His mercy? Have we looked into His eyes and been shocked by the love we feel? Have we sagged into His goodness and felt lifted heavenward?

His invitation is offered to all who seek Him. It is offered not only to me and to you but to every member of our families and wards. As we receive His love, we will rejoice to spread the good news. We will beg all to come and receive as we have received. We will be emissaries of His love.

This is startling good news. When we come to His feet brokenhearted and tear-stained, we can be embraced with His loving assurance: “Your faith has saved you. Travel life’s journey in peace.”

We are all injured. Every mortal carries an assortment of chafes, bruises, and malfunctions. Some people’s disorders are more debilitating or apparent, but no mortal is spared.

The worst injuries are spiritual. There are those who are paralyzed by remembrances of betrayal, cruelty, and neglect. There are those held hostage to guilt or anger.

In my work for Auburn University I met a prominent, mid-life woman who was energetic, personable, and bright. We worked together on several projects. After our first planning meeting, several of us went to lunch. As we began the first steps toward getting acquainted, she put a frame around her life by saying that she was in recovery. She had had bad relationships as a child, substance abuse as an adult, and now she was in recovery.

Over the years this woman and I had many professional contacts. Perhaps monthly we met for planning meetings. Regularly the subject of her injuries and recovery came up. She told about her latest forays into counseling. It took me a long time for me to recognize that her old addictions to substances had been replaced with a new fascination with recovery. She really was not well yet; she was merely addicted to treatment. She understood and explained every part of her life through her struggle with addiction.

That woman’s situation is not unusual. Many of us have learned to define ourselves based on some central struggle in our lives. We are overcoming abuse or addiction or trauma or neglect. It is a common way to make sense of our lives. It puts our enemy clearly in focus. Unfortunately the perceived enemy is often really a diversion. There is a persistent and pernicious enemy who may go unrecognized.

There are many traditions in therapy. One is to ruminate on the history of a problem in the hopes of untangling the strands of pain and responsibility. Often we get only more tangled and more confused and more despairing.
One approach to solving problems is to carefully study the behavior and the contingencies that support it. By putting new contingencies in place, the behavior pattern may be broken.

Another tool is to bolster the self-confidence of the victim. “You can do it. You are bright and capable and strong.” But we are all nagged by the sense of inadequacy. We simply cannot do many things that need doing.
Elder Boyd K. Packer has suggested a radical, new approach to therapy:

True doctrine, understood, changes attitudes and behavior. The study of the doctrines of the gospel will improve behavior quicker than a study of behavior will improve behavior. Preoccupation with unworthy behavior can lead to unworthy behavior. That is why we stress so forcefully the study of the doctrines of the gospel (Ensign, November 1986, p.17).

“Doctrine therapy” seems hopelessly inadequate and naive for dealing with lifelong problems. Can the study of doctrine really change long-established patterns of behavior?

Jesus believed that it could. Recall Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well. She had suffered a long history of failed relationships. She was in fact, then cohabiting with her sixth partner. She had every reason for despair and cynicism. But Jesus offered her sublime hope. He offered her living water.

“Jesus answered and said unto her, If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water (John 4:10).

The woman was mystified. Jesus made clearer the contrast between natural and divine methods of slaking thirst.

“Jesus answered and said unto her, Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again: But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life” (John 4:13–14).

Jesus declared himself to be the Messiah, the Christ. He was a liberator and a healer.

Jesus did not probe the troubled history of her life. He did nothing to untangle her psychological wiring. He offered himself as the healing balm. For every malady the remedy was the same, whether the woman taken with adultery, the woman in the house of Simon the Pharisee, or the father who craved healing for his son.

“Jesus said unto him, If thou canst believe, all things [are] possible to him that believeth. And straightway the father of the child cried out, and said with tears, Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief” (Mark 9:23–4).

The father’s humble and sincere effort at faith was enough. The son was healed.

Jesus claimed to be the fulfillment of an ancient prophecy.

The Spirit of the Lord [is] upon me,
because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor;
he hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted,
to preach deliverance to the captives,
and recovering of sight to the blind,
to set at liberty them that are bruised
(Luke 4:18)

For all who were ever bruised or damaged, He is the liberator.

Of course, God will have us use every practical, medical, and medicinal resource available to us. Anti-inflammatories and wise counsel are still vital. But the most persistent maladies are those of the soul. For them, Jesus is the only remedy.
I learned a valuable lesson about drawing on His power from a member of our branch who came to see me as a friend. (She was not willing to see me as her branch president.) Her life was filled with problems, doubt, sin, and confusion. She felt utterly hopeless. She asked me what she should do.

I suggested that she let Father in to her life to help her make sense of everything. She resisted. “If I let God into my life He will tell me all the stuff I am doing wrong. He will start to make a bunch of demands and insist that I entirely clean up the place. I have enough problems already. I don’t need that kind of help.”

A suggestion came to mind. I suggested that, next time she felt him knocking at her door, she open the door to Him. But tell him that He can only come in to the linen closet of her life. And He can only stay for 10 minutes. Then He must leave without resistance.

She was aghast at the presumption. But, with encouragement, she resolved to try. The same woman returned to my office a week later, subdued and peaceful. She closed the door and sat down. “I invited him in and told him He could stay only for a few minutes.” She paused for a long time. “I have never known such joy. He taught me. He loved me. He encouraged me. Why didn’t anyone ever tell me that God was like that?”

Perhaps His healing powers are the best-kept secret in the world. Because of him we have nothing to fear. We are infinitely better off in His hands than in Satan’s, or even our own. “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).

In many situations it is difficult to find the limits of our responsibility. The Prophet Joseph Smith must have had a similar question as he languished in Liberty Jail while his people struggled. The Lord instructed him:

Therefore, dearly beloved brethren, let us cheerfully do all things that lie in our power [whether much or little, we do all we can and we do it cheerfully]; and then may we stand still, with the utmost assurance [What a picture of faith-filled serenity!], to see the salvation of God, and for his arm to be revealed [In the final analysis, he does the miracle]” (D&C 123:17).

I am a professor of human development. I am not trained as a therapist. I believe that skillful therapy can play a vital role in helping people heal. But there is more. The relentless message of scripture is that we may “look to God and live” (Alma 37:47).

In my own life and in the lives of those I love, I have repeatedly witnessed the transforming miracle of His goodness. Only He can provide the mighty change of heart that ultimately makes us right. Over-reliance on human remedies will leave us still sick. The doctrine of Christ, His goodness, His healing balm, are our only hope for curing the pervasive, latter-day, spiritual maladies.