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.

I was walking along Canal Street in New Orleans with Bob, a friend, colleague, and a good Catholic man. He described his continuing challenge to be the man he wants to be. Often he falls short in one area or another. He told me that God occasionally taps him on the forehead with a twig—inviting him to overcome a fault. If he doesn’t respond, God starts tapping him with a stick. When that doesn’t stir him to repentance, God uses a railroad tie. Then he described a specific kind of challenge that often gets to him. “When people are overbearing, it gets me every time.”

I’m not sure if God uses railroad ties as one of His teaching methods. I’m not sure He even uses sticks. But I think that Bob was right about the central idea. When there is a flaw in our characters, God patiently provides opportunities for us to trade in the faults for a little more divine nature. The irritation we feel is an invitation to change the way we think and feel. Unfortunately, human nature commonly prefers our faults to His mighty change.

This provides an expansive opportunity for Satan. The prince of darkness tries to convince us that our faults are actually virtues. He laughs when we sin and feel noble about it.

You make me so mad!

Being angry is a prime example. We regularly get indignant when someone does something rude and thoughtless. Each of us has different triggers. But almost all of us have some predictable trigger that ignites our irritation. If we dwell on it, our irritation grows into anger and wrath. Someone is being wicked and we see our wrath as the instinctive (and righteous) response to badness. We put on the prophetic mantle and call them to repentance.

We only rarely sense that we add our own sin to the offender’s sin when we respond to badness with judgment and anger. Then the offender gets upset and defensive. He and I work furiously to justify ourselves and nobody repents. Satan laughs. We have been sucked into the vortex of judgment by our stubborn self-righteousness.

The call to repentance

Let me express the idea more baldly. When I am irritated, it is my fault. The irritation I feel is an invitation for me to repent.

Let me give examples. I try hard to be a positive guy. Sure, I have all the natural man scripts running like Muzak in the background of my mind. But I try to choose to see the good and dwell on it.

I have had amazing friends, teachers, and bosses who are wonderfully positive. Phil Ellis is one of those. His encouragement years ago still blesses my life. But I have also had bosses who are negative, critical, and seem to never see any good in my work.

My instinctive response to such bosses is to be defensive. I look for faults in the boss. I brood. Then my brooding spills into discussions with others. Pretty soon I have created a battleground on which truth and goodness are the inevitable casualties. I have responded to negativity with negativity. I am guilty of the very sin that offended me.

If confronted with my misdeeds, I might protest: “What was I to do in the face of such corrosive negativity?” Eternity whispers the reply: “You might have been a Christian.”

Ouch. That hurts.

“But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you;” (Matt. 5:44).

In every experience of irritation, Jesus invites me to become more like Him. I can see the offender with compassion and I can act with charity. To be specific, I can see a boss who is stressed and overwhelmed. I can see jibes as an attempt to connect and communicate. And, if I call on the Fount of goodness, I can respond redemptively.

A parenting example

We have a grandson whose boundless energy regularly gets him crosswise with the world. The doctor says he has ADHD. His teacher says he is careless. His parents are overwhelmed with the unique challenges provided by him and his three siblings. One day, playing ball with me and his sister, he knocked her down in his drive for the ball. I am tempted to be angry with a boy who seems to always be hurting people around him. The natural man is inclined to lecture and punish him. But, if I apply compassion and charity—as God is inviting me to do, I respond differently.

Compassion calls me to realize how often this goodhearted little boy gets in trouble. I realize that he doesn’t get much kindness and appreciation to soothe his soul. Such compassionate thoughts soften me. With compassion in my heart, my mind is energized to think redemptively.

I put my arm around the boy. “Oops. You knocked your sister down. Let’s sit and think for a moment.” The boy sits while his sister and I continue to play. He knows that his job is to take a few deep breaths and prepare to do some repenting. After he has a few minutes to self-soothe, I sit by him. “Can you tell me what went wrong?” He starts to tell me what his sister did wrong. But I figure that each of us should repent only ourselves. “Take a couple more minutes and see if you can figure out where you went wrong.”

His sister and I play a couple more minutes and I sit with him again. I put my arm around him. “Can you tell me where you went wrong?” He is softer now. “I pushed my sister in order to get the ball.” “Yeah,” I reply. It hurt her, didn’t it?” He nods. “What do you think you could do differently?” He sighs. “I could play gentler.” “I think that would make you a better ball player and a better brother.” I squeeze him. “Are you ready to try again?”

If we play very long, there is a good chance that his energy will again bump into some else’s well-being. We will have another chat. It takes a long time to learn to manage all these human impulses–especially when we have so much energy. But we who love these little people must be prepared to provide healing love and patient teaching for a lifetime.

A marital example

In parenting, irritation comes and goes. Marriage is the perfect arena for steady irritation. In fact, if we practice our irritation faithfully, we can learn to think of our partner as “a teeming flaw colony,” as Dave Barry described the attitude.

At the beginning of most relationships, things were different. We dwelt on the good and minimized the bad. Over time some of the shine wore off. We became less willing to focus on the good. We let the irritations bother us more. Eventually irritation can become the theme of the relationship. We’ve all seen it, couples who have been together forever but argue about everything. They live what the song title describes: “I’m So Miserable Without You, It’s Almost Like Having You Here.”

Let me give you an example of a newlywed couple we love dearly. The husband is an easy-going and funny guy from a small town. The wife comes from the city, works in the fashion industry, and is wound tighter than her husband. You can see the battle coming, can’t you! He is heedless of appearance and says things she considers goofy. She appreciates his kindness but gets irritated by some of his actions.

Being in the early years of marriage, they are laying a foundation for what is to come. She can pester him about his shortcomings. He will become more distant and sullen. Or maybe he will deliberately annoy her. The years will pass and the bad feelings will accumulate. They will be one of those couples that can’t stand to be together and can’t stand to be apart.

Or there is another choice. Each partner can see his or her own irritation as an invitation to repent. Irritation is not so much about what my partner is doing wrong but how I am thinking wrong. I can repent. I can choose to see the good. I can see the differences as a blessing. I can allow my partner to be different from me. I can choose to learn from my partner and to feel blessed by my partner.

Fixing people is really God’s prerogative. Only as we become more godly should we presume to change another person. And here’s the great irony: As we become more godly, we enjoy people more and more just as they are. I don’t care if they change.

Let’s all repent.

A sage and revered man asked a question in our high priest group meeting: “We believe in helping people. We helped the Jones family when their basement flooded. But it floods every few years. When do we stop helping them?”

In the group were past bishops and stake presidents. For them the question was very real; they had faced the same or similar issues while representing the Lord in their wards and stakes.

There was a lively discussion with very different recommendations. Once again two true principles came into tension. Compassion versus responsibility. Caring versus stretched resources.

One brother asked whether the ward was robbing the family of growth opportunities by jumping in to help with basement repairs. “When will Brother Jones learn to sheetrock if we keep doing it for him?”

This is the clash of the titans. We believe in choice and accountability. The war in heaven was fought over agency. Yet, on the other side, is compassion. Jesus kept surprising and scandalizing His contemporaries by showing compassion where they were inclined to slap sanctions or pile penalties. The woman taken in adultery. The injured man on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. The woman at the well. The lepers.

I don’t believe that a brutal battle between compassion and responsibility is the way to settle this continuing struggle. I recommend two different solutions.

Making creative use of tension

In the research on marriage, one of the stock recommendations is to make creative (rather than destructive) use of differences. Rather than batter our spouses with their “inadequacies,” we can learn from our different strengths. But this will only happen when our hearts and minds are right.

Curiously absent from most marital battles and many discussions of helping the poor is life-giving creativity. We are tempted to settle challenging issues with petty rule-applying. Sometimes a smallness of soul is evident in our harsh judging of folks who are facing hard times.

Yet God is supremely creative. When we get His spirit, we are too.

In the group discussion about flooded basements, one gentle brother jumped in: “The best way for Brother Jones to learn to sheetrock is to do it with us.” That is one creative solution.

There is still another way creativity might be applied. Rather than periodically repair the Joneses’ basement, maybe we could draw on the resources of the ward to come up with a long-term solution. Rather than complain about the repeated repairs, maybe we could find a way to divert the water that has periodically flooded the basement.

Creativity keeps surprising us. One brother in the group told about an Eskimo woman he knew in Alaska. Her utilities were often shut off. The church would rally to get them turned on again. Yet it wasn’t long before the utilities were again shut off for non-payment. It finally dawned on the ward members that this good woman was used to living without utilities. She was used to chopping wood and hauling water. So they provided different help. They supplemented her wood supply. As she aged and her body began to fail, they provided more wood and helped her haul water.

A young couple in our ward is without regular work. They are trying very hard but keep falling short. So when Kroger’s has a sale on cases of peanut butter, we buy a case for us and a case for them. Food was never better stored than in the soul of one of God’s children.

Like many people, I worry about giving to panhandlers who ask for money because they are hungry. We have all heard stories of money poured into alcohol and scammers who prey on the gullible. I am tempted to ignore my responsibility by issuing a summary judgment on their souls. Yet I have known for years that I am dishonoring Jesus when I do that. So, in an imperfect attempt to be both creative and compassionate, I have started carrying a few jars and cans of food in the car. I do not know if the panhandler is genuinely hungry or merely idle, but I can be prepared to feed those who claim to be hungry.

Being gracious

My second recommendation is to be gracious. We who must repeatedly cross the bridge of mercy should not blow it up for others. We should thank God who built it and we should thank all who maintain it every time we cross it.

Those of us who have lived relatively safe and privileged lives should be very cautious about judging and condescending toward those for whom life has been a relentless struggle. We might become like Pharisees shivering at the sight of a leper. We might start to drink the Calvinist punch that wealth and well-being are signs of God’s approval.

We who are less than the dust of the earth should be constantly grateful for the breath that God lends us, the sacrifice He made to rescue us, the mansions He labors to prepare for us. It is painfully ungracious to judge ourselves as deserving while judging others as undeserving. Is it possible that the Jobs among us are enrolled in spiritual graduate school while God allows many of us to repeat 3rd grade until we are ready to advance a mere grade? We who take untold years to learn the basics ought not to judge harshly those who groan under the demands of advanced training.

Heading toward Zion

And the Lord called his people ZION, because they were of one heart and one mind, and dwelt in righteousness; and there was no poor among them. (Moses 7:18)

Along with creativity, we need a change of heart. If there are no poor in Zion, it must be because all people work together. We are of one heart and one mind. When a tree falls on any house, it is felt in all souls. When water fills any basement, it calls all neighbors to action.

I remember when Nancy and I suffered another in a series of miscarriages. A family in the ward brought us dinner. We did not really need the food. Yet we wept with joy because of their compassion and graciousness. We were lifted by their love.

If we are to be followers of Jesus, we must lead with compassion. Responsibility is the framework; compassion is the heart and soul of a saint.

I do not believe that we should create dependency; I believe in responsibility. But only an inspired priesthood leader has the right to regulate the flow of church resources. My personal responsibility is to do all I can to help God’s children. My job is to be a messenger of hope and grace—to have a giving heart and ready hands.

God does not expect me to run faster than I am able; all things should be done in wisdom and order. Yet I have learned that, as I am more willing, God makes me more able. How many times would Jesus want me to bail and repair the Joneses’ basement?

Maybe seventy times seven.

Recently I was talking with a friend who is a faithful saint. He expressed his frustration that we sometimes conflate our religion and our politics. We sometimes act as if a faithful member of the Church could have only one political stance: “Freedom comes first.” The people who start their history with the war in heaven sometimes talk as if the only principle worth fighting for is agency.

I agree with that friend. I suppose that agency got us here. But using that agency to show love and compassion is what will get us back with Father. While we start our story with agency, we conclude it with the United Order. Should we imagine that every cousin of socialism is evil? Should we talk as if government must always be minimized? Must the great principles of freedom and compassion be at war with each other?

I grew up in a home that was very conservative politically. I have been very conservative most of my life. But the repeated demand of scripture to care for God’s underprivileged children makes me more open to many ways of helping—including some governmental interventions.

I am not defending big government. I am not suggesting it is the immediate solution to our woes. Each of us must find ways to care for the poor. But I invite humility and patience as each of us tries to find a way.

Maybe we could all try to welcome any efforts to care for God’s underprivileged children. Maybe it is not Uncle Sam who is the enemy but rather Satan. He would have us harden our hearts against the poor. “They brought it on themselves.”

Perhaps thou shalt say: The man has brought upon himself his misery; therefore I will stay my hand, and will not give unto him of my food, nor impart unto him of my substance that he may not suffer, for his punishments are just—

But I say unto you, O man, whosoever doeth this the same hath great cause to repent; and except he repenteth of that which he hath done he perisheth forever, and hath no interest in the kingdom of God.
For behold, are we not all beggars? Do we not all depend upon the same Being, even God, for all the substance which we have, for both food and raiment, and for gold, and for silver, and for all the riches which we have of every kind? (Mosiah 4:17-19)

I don’t think God wants us to choose between freedom and compassion. I think He wants us to use our best inspiration to choose both.

How can we do that? I welcome your ideas.

What does the Atonement have to do with marriage?How can it play a more central role in yours? Join Wally and Andy Goddard as they lead a discussion on Christ-Centered Marriage. We will be discussing:

• Humility - the fertile soil for marital happiness, &
• Faith in Jesus Christ - the cornerstone of our celestial union.

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If God is the smartest person in the universe, then His doctrines should be unexpectedly expansive. If God is the kindest person in eternity, then His plan should be refreshingly redemptive. Indeed, He stands as the smartest and kindest Person in this entire expanse of time and space.

“The Lord, The Lord God, merciful and gracious, longsuffering, and abundant in goodness and truth” (Exodus 34:6).

We may test any doctrine for its truthfulness by looking for His telltale fingerprints. When a doctrine seems squalid and limiting, we have good reason to believe that it owes its design to puny mortals. When a doctrine startles us with its wisdom and goodness, we have reason to suspect that God is behind it.

His relentless redemptiveness

Thus we are equipped to test any doctrine. Joseph Smith observed that “our Heavenly Father is more liberal in his views, and boundless in his mercies and blessings, than we are ready to believe or receive; and, at the same time, is more terrible to the workers of iniquity, more awful in the executions of his punishments, and more ready to detect every false way, than we are apt to suppose him to be” (TPJS p. 257).
God honors both justice and mercy. His great plan of happiness ingeniously provides us personal experience with both good and evil while offering us redemption through His Beloved Son.

“And thus mercy can satisfy the demands of justice, and encircles them in the arms of safety, while he that exercises no faith unto repentance is exposed to the whole law of the demands of justice; therefore only unto him that has faith unto repentance is brought about the great and eternal plan of redemption” (Alma 34:16).

If we respond to His invitations, we will find blessings beyond our wildest dreams. After all, even “the glory of the telestial . . . surpasses all understanding” (D&C 76:89). One of the surest testimonies of God’s goodness is the fact that He will take those who were “liars, and sorcerers, and adulterers, and whoremongers” (D&C 76:103) and straighten them out in the spirit world before delivering them to a glory that we cannot comprehend in our wildest dreams—a place where the Holy Ghost has full sway.

“But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him” (1 Cor. 2:9).

One of the doctrines that amazes me every time I experience it is His determination to rescue us. According to Elder Maxwell, “his relentless redemptiveness exceeds [our] recurring wrongs” (“Jesus of Nazareth, Savior and King,” Ensign, May 1976, pp. 26–27).
Although we live in a world where sin is an ever-present danger, consider one set of ways in which God has set us up for success.

We are set up for success

Father has sent His left-hand man, the third in command, a member of the Godhead as our personal mentor. He will be with us every moment of every day to guide and sustain us as long as we are within the covenant. Can you imagine that we have the full attention and help of a God? Can we comprehend the condescension of God to dedicate such heavenly resources to guide every moment of our journey?
Parley P. Pratt detailed the work of the Holy Ghost:

The gift of the Holy Spirit . . . quickens all the intellectual faculties, increases, enlarges, expands and purifies all the natural passions and affections; and adapts them, by the gift of wisdom, to their lawful use. It inspires, develops, cultivates and matures all the fine-toned sympathies, joys, tastes, kindred feelings and affections of our nature. It inspires virtue, kindness, goodness, tenderness, gentleness and charity. It develops beauty of person, form and features. It tends to health, vigor, animation and social feeling. It develops and invigorates all the faculties of the physical and intellectual man. It strengthens, invigorates, and gives tone to the nerves. In short, it is, as it were, marrow to the bone, joy to the heart, light to the eyes, music to the ears, and life to the whole being (Key to the Science of Theology, pp.100–101).

A heavenly helper

God also provides His holy helper as a reminder that we are in relationship with Him. We do not have to wonder if we are outside the holy contract that binds us to Him. “If we experience the gifts of the Spirit or the influence of the Holy Ghost, we can know that we are in the covenant relationship, for the gifts and companionship of the Holy Ghost are given to none else” (Robinson, Believing Christ, p. 94). What sweet comfort! Every time any one of us feels a hint of the Holy Ghost, God is reassuring us that our offering is acceptable. If I do not flee the covenant, He will get me home. What sweet assurance! What welcome encouragement! It is no wonder that the Holy Ghost is called the Comforter.
But the Holy Ghost does more than mentor, teach, and reassure us. He also cleanses us. What a blessing! When we set him loose in our souls, He will gather up and haul off the pests that bedevil our mortality. Then He takes the next step in our spiritual reformation. He will deliver that perfection that Christ gladly lends us when we are in the covenant. As long as we are in the covenant, the Holy Ghost reassures us that we are perfect in Christ. (See Believing Christ for a superb discussion of this principle.) Heaven be praised!
It is not surprising that a member of the Godhead would have so many positive effects any time He visits. What a blessing that God would assign him to keep us constant company.
Imagine a dear friend who, whenever he comes to visit, helps you sort out your house. He does not condemn or cajole you. He washes a few dishes. He bakes a few cookies. He sorts the laundry. He never visits without leaving the place better for His visiting. He leaves us feeling hopeful and peaceful.
Thus it is with the Holy Ghost. Whenever He visits us, He burns out a few imperfections, sets our thinking in order, and refines our feelings. On His best days—those when we give him free reign—he fills us with the greatest of heavenly gifts: charity.
The good news

Satan has every reason to be discouraged every time we glimpse the redemptive goodness of the First Presidency of heaven. God’s loving goodness, manifest most clearly in His Great Plan of Happiness, energizes our journey. Surely every knee should bow and every tongue confess in the face of such divine graciousness.
Never was there sweeter doctrine than that which teaches that God has set us up for success. He wants us back home with him and He has provided the way to get us there.
God took errant (and humbled) Peter, filled him with the Holy Ghost, and made him president of the ancient church. God surprised enemy Paul, sent him to a local official for tutoring, and made him the church’s doctrinal spokesman. God snatched Alma and the sons of Mosiah from their destructive ways and made them messengers of joy.
He is doing something similar for each of us. In ways that we may not understand (or even perceive), He is taking us from our puny pursuits and turning us into and toward something nobler.
I gladly acknowledge my weak, imperfect understanding of His doctrine. Yet I feel sure that the truth is still finer, sweeter, and more inviting than I ever imagined. The participation of the Holy Ghost in our lives is so unexpectedly expansive and refreshingly redemptive that it must be true. May we welcome that messenger from heaven into our lives every day.

What specific acts or thoughts have helped you defeat evil in your life or the lives of those you love?