What I Believe About President Packer's Conference Talk

I haven't blogged for a while because I've been tweaking this post, debating if I should make it public. Like I've mentioned before, this blog is mainly a journal for me. For that reason, I dislike posting things that may cause ill feelings among people I love and trolls who don't even know me. But the complex issues regarding gay rights and the Church's moral stance have been thought provoking and troubling to me for some time, and President Packer's talk stirred the pot again. I've decided to touch on these issues and pray I will not be misunderstood.

Last week I read an article regarding the public's response to President Packer's talk on Meridian Magazine's site. Maurine Proctor writes:

The case is capsulized by Elder Dallin H. Oaks: “The New Testament affirms that God has given us commandments that are difficult to keep.” Among the ways people respond to that difficulty is by stoning the messenger or reforming their idea of God and what he expects to something more palatable for them. But petition God as we might, he doesn’t change the nature of the universe for us, nor the eternal, moral laws on which it rests. Some might suppose it is more compassionate for God’s laws to be amendable to our weakest inclinations—whatever they may be—but it is from his love and his infinite justice and mercy that he is clear with us. Some choices and behaviors will ultimately bring us pain and hamper our eternal destiny. The Church cannot surrender to any demand that would have it reject biblical truth and revelation given by modern prophets. It cannot lie to sinners about their sin, no matter how strong the insistence is.

The author goes on to note that many see God as a butler, therapist, or guidance counselor, reminding me of what C. S. Lewis said in Mere Christianity—that we often see God as a senile grandfather who likes nothing better than to see the children having a good time.

It is difficult doctrine that God asks us to do hard things. As I've read many times on a Christian webzine, I believe that God's objective is not to make us "happy," according to our modern society's definition of the word, but to make us holy. I don't blame anyone who doesn't believe this. I certainly don't claim to understand what it would be like to be told that the lifestyle that feels most natural and comfortable to me—the way I feel the most me—is a sin in God's eyes.

All I have is my own experience.

At times, my preferences and God's revealed will for my life have clashed. The most excruciating times have been when I've had to wrestle in prayer before God, wanting to submit to Him on some level, but not-so-secretly wishing He'd submit to me. The end result of such struggles are always more beautiful than I could have imagined, miraculously bringing the peace I never thought I'd have. While none of us asks for suffering, I believe there is something majestic in experiencing pain for a cause—the way Christ suffered for us.

In my life, the noblest cause is to know God better. I am overwhelmed with admiration for Latter-day Saints who choose to live the celibate life because they believe it will achieve spiritual strength and closeness with God. I believe that no heterosexual can fully understand the weight of what God is truly asking when He, through His prophets, asks His children to lay feelings of same-gender attraction on the altar and walk away. Those who accomplish this must have faith that their Heavenly Father will compensate them in some way, but they also know they may never experience the companionship and romantic love in this life that so many take for granted. I can't imagine what this must feel like.

Yet in a smaller degree, I do know the peace of surrendering my personal agenda, even my personal identity, to the God who knows the real me and not the flimsy image I've constructed for myself. Submitting to God and His laws in order to find happiness is certainly counterintuitive, but in my limited experience, I know His promises are real. I've tasted the peace.

I say all this to point out that I believe in the pure motives of Mormon leaders. I believe they want to invite everyone who is willing to seek that peace.

I had the opportunity at times to work with some of the Apostles and Seventy at close range for six years, so I'm not speaking out of mere respect for their position or admiration from afar but also from the experiences I gained interacting with them. I felt their love for God and their love for mankind as I sat in meetings with them and heard them discuss their concerns. While their words and policies are frustrating to those who disagree, I believe wholeheartedly that Mormon leaders have benevolent objectives: a desire to invite people to find lasting happiness and avoid tragedy. I believe they feel a weighty sense of responsibility to speak truth for the benefit of all who will listen, much like a beach lifeguard who spies sharks in the water and must warn the swimmers. To those who do not believe LDS leaders have any prophetic insight, this claim can seem condescending. Nevertheless, I hope it's clear that—whether there are, in reality, "sharks" threatening our society—Mormon leaders respond to what they see out of love. Suggestions that they mind their own business may sound to Mormon prophets much like swimmers who want to be left alone to enjoy their beach day, sharks or not. How could a conscientious lifeguard keep silent?

I believe Mormon prophets invite those who are willing to tread on the narrow path of self-denial because they know that ultimately other paths have even more painful pitfalls. I believe they speak clearly to give strength to those who truly want to adhere to biblical teachings but may lose courage in the face of mass secularization in the wider culture without the moral support of a large body of believers.

I do not believe that the leaders of my church speak boldly about the immorality of same-sex relationships in an attempt to change or control those who do not have any interest in changing. Mormon doctrine emphasizes that God's will cannot be forced on His children. The reason God gives us commandments is so the individual can be transformed through grace and obedience to those commands, but there is little transformative power in choices made out of coercion.

At the same time, I understand that many, many people feel that Mormons alone coerced gays out of getting married in California. The issue of whether marriage is a civil right will continue to be disagreed upon and debated, and I don't have the time or space to dissect that issue here today. I only want to say that I'm adamant in my belief that Mormon leaders do not wish to marginalize, demonize, or harm anyone.

For those who feel marginalized, demonized, and harmed, I express my sadness. I can't help but wonder if maybe there is no way around the pain for both groups when two of God's children disagree on something so fundamental. I hope that isn't true. I hope the future yields a more ideal solution. In the meantime, I echo what President Obama said back in May: "We can't expect to solve our problems if all we do is tear each other down. You can disagree with a certain policy without demonizing the person who espouses it. You can question somebody's views and their judgment without questioning their motives."

Even as I defend the Mormon Apostles I respect and uphold, and ask for a little empathy from those who don't understand where they are coming from, I admit it is sometimes difficult for me to avoid questioning the motives of some who promote gay rights.

Maurine Proctor relates a perspective that I have never encountered in my community, but, if true, worries me:

Laurie Higgins, the president of Illinois Family Council said, “I asked a prominent homosexual activist and blogger if he would accept enumerated anti-bullying resources [in schools] that made clear the distinction between moral disapproval and bullying. In other words, would he accept anti-bullying resources that explicitly stated that bullying refers to homosexual epithets and physical harassment, and that bullying does not refer to the belief or the expression of the belief that homosexual practice is immoral? He adamantly rejected such resources. . . .

According to the homosexual agenda, you don’t have to physically harass someone or fling an epithet at them to be considered a homophobe. Being friendly or tolerant isn’t enough to escape this label. If you believe that homosexuality is immoral, you are by their definition hateful. If you are a member of a church that stands by the long-held Christian tradition, you are hateful.

To rob a faithful person of the right to legally express belief in a well defined moral code, without negative repercussions, seems like dismantling religion itself. I hope outlawing one's right to publicly believe and interpret scripture is not at the heart of most gay-rights defenders' agendas or activities. I can understand the annoyance at hearing public appeals to the Bible among people who do not believe in the Bible, but at the same time, there is no original thought or opinion on the face of the earth. Some may draw their conclusions from scripture, others from rabid radio commentators, family, friends, authors, television, Internet articles, cultural norms, college professors, or any other number of influences. I don't believe scripture should be ruled as an invalid resource in the formation of opinion while all other influences are fair game.

I also don't understand why some promoters of gay rights seem to want to reduce freedom of choice for other gays. Those who want to explore the possibility of reducing their feelings of same-gender attraction have a difficult road ahead of them. Doctor S. Brent Scharman writes:

Professionals willing to assist individuals in their attempts to change are under tremendous pressure not to do so—both from individuals and organizations. Some state and national organizations have even talked of taking away the licenses of those who participate in this work.

I feel that stripping the license of psychologists who allow their clients to determine the direction of their therapy is wrong. Reorientation therapy may lead to disappointment for the majority, but this is no reason to rule out the individual's right to try whatever he or she wants to try in the search for greater peace.

Now a final p.s. on the whole situation. This is the part of the post where I actually talk about President Packer's October conference talk wherein he originally stated that Heavenly Father would never make one of His children gay but later deleted that sentence. I agree with one of the comments left on Proctor's Meridian article by a reader:

I think your article is a little melodramatic on what actually took place. Based upon the corrected version [of President Packer's talk] posted on LDS.org it seems to be that Elder Packer's wording in conference was not the best for articulating what he was attempting to convey. The way it read was out of tune with the official church position of differentiating between sexual orientation and sexual behaviour. As a gay Latter-day Saint living the law of celibacy as directed by our prophet, President Monson, I offer my testimony that there is a big difference between condemning sexual orientation (which is not a chosen trait) and condemning sexual behaviour. There is much pain experienced needlessly when we don't separate the two.

Amen.

President Packer changed the printed wording of his talk. What he said at the pulpit that has since been omitted is not, therefore, Mormon doctrine.

Ever notice how the spoken and printed versions of conference talks don't always match—especially when President Monson is telling stories and jokes in priesthood session? There is a difference between the spoken and published versions because the speaker approves what he wants to be, for lack of a better word, "canonized" in print. Often the speaker prepares a printed version, strays from it while at the pulpit, and requests that the original version be published. What happened to President Packer's talk occurs every single general conference. It's just that clarification rarely occurs on such volatile issues, and changes go largely unnoticed.

I understand why some of President Packer's listeners found his words insensitive. I'm grateful for the clarification that quickly came. And I pray for the day when all of us with opposing viewpoints can cease to feel threatened by each other because of our increasing ability to love and believe the best about each other, despite what issues may remain impasses. As Orson Scott Card pointed out, "Tolerance implies disagreement—it means that even though we don't agree with or approve of each others beliefs or actions, we can still live together amicably."

My Favorite Mormon Messages Ever!

I like this one:


And this one:


And this one:


See a theme here?

President Dieter Uchtdorf is my favorite speaker since Elder Neal A. Maxwell died. Is it because his messages mean the most to me? Or is it because listening to him reminds me of being here?


I think it's both.

Prioritizing--My Archenemy

I had the awesome chance to go to the General Relief Society meeting in the Conference Center on Saturday with some sisters from my ward. We sat on about the fifteenth or twentieth row. As the First Presidency, their wives, and the general Relief Society Presidency all entered, I thought about how different their lives are from mine. I thought about all the places they have likely traveled in the last year, the people around the world they have met and come to love, the strangers they have smiled and waved at because being in such a visible calling means they get to do a lot of smiling and waving, even if some days they may not especially feel like it.

Seeing the presidencies in person and being reminded of all they do made me want to approach life with more love. Stop fussing over whether or not I'm doing things "right" and take more time to really see others. The thing that always stops me from following through is indecision about the specifics. How to show love, and to whom, and while doing what? There I go, worrying about myself again.

My biggest problem, I'm noticing, is that I hate, hate, hate having to choose a way to spend the time I've been given when it means I am therefore not choosing every other way I could have chosen. Am I mentally ill? Yes, but let's move on.

In 1949, Thomas Griffith from Time magazine said:

All that mattered, I felt, was my inclination; I saw life as a set of free choices. Only later did it occur to me that every road taken is another untaken, every choice a narrowing. A sadder maturity convinces me that, as in a chess game, every move helps commit one to the next, and each person's situation at a given moment is the sum of the moves he has made before.

In 1990, Ardeth Kapp said:

It is only when you are clear in your mind concerning your values that you are free to simplify and reduce without putting at risk what matters most. Until we determine what is of greatest worth, we are caught up in the unrealistic idea that everything is possible.

Just for the record, I'm clear in my values---I value almost EVERYTHING. What my family and friends want me to do. What "the Church" wants me to do. (Ever wonder who this mysterious "Church" person is?) What my body begs me to do---get more sleep, prepare a meal that isn't cereal now and then. I value nature, exercise, good books, good movies, good housekeeping, funny clips on the Internet, friends, planning vacations I'll never take, researching graduate programs I'll never apply to, organizing my closet, organizing it again, painting pictures, painting my house, downloading iTunes songs, visiting teaching, family time, family history work, developing talents, going to my jobs sometimes. Oh, yes. I'm clear in my values.

In 2010, Julie Beck said:

A good woman knows that she does not have enough time, energy, or opportunity to take care of all of the people or do all of the worthy things her heart yearns to do.

This idea from Boundless makes sense to me, too:

The term "overcommitted" is a misnomer. People who have too many "commitments" (jobs, positions, obligations or even classes) are not overcommitted; they are undercommitted. They do not have enough commitment to any of the tasks and activities to which they have pledged themselves to actually do any of them properly.

These truths make sense, and yet I've been fighting them all my life. It's not all possible? Really?

I have a hard time deciding what to do in absence of a mighty revelation, so I avoid thinking about it altogether and sit on my couch blogging instead of going to work on time. (Sorry to my three poor readers. Maybe this is the kind of problem you want to have---a luxury that moms don't get to whine about when kids are busy setting the house on fire and all your time is used up for you.)

This quote from Neal A. Maxwell hits home, and although he is talking about committing to the gospel, I wonder if it applies to smaller decisions as well---how we will use our time to show our commitment to the gospel:

The absence of a decision to commit is a decision. Of course, indecision does not push us immediately into gross sin, but it renders us ineffective and uninfluential in a world that so much needs committed individuals; as a minimum, we have lost time in terms of the impact we might have had.

This image from one of President James E. Faust's sermons has stayed with me, and I think of it as an analogy for faith, magnifying callings by the Spirit, or, of course, prioritizing:

As a small boy, I remember being intrigued by my grandmother’s magnifying glass, which she used in her old age to read and do needlework. When the glass was in focus, everything I looked at was greatly magnified. But I was most intrigued by what happened when the lens concentrated the sunlight on an object. When it passed through the magnifying glass, the sunlight’s power was absolutely amazing.

I want my time and especially my heart to be so focused on Jesus Christ that what I'm capable of accomplishing in a day is greatly magnified. Scattering sunshine all along my way has been fun, but . . . scattered.

As a follower of the Savior, I know HE should be my only priority, my only value, my only factor in decision-making. When I remember Him more often, maybe I'll start feeling more of that love I sensed as I sat in the Conference Center, watching His servants smile and wave to the crowd.

I'm SO glad it's general conference this weekend. I'm ready for another dose of clarity.

God Wants Me to Be an Introvert

This is my favorite new video from Mormon.org. Why? Because I like that Cassandra Barney is happy to be herself.

As a member of a tight-knit community and committed church group, it can be too easy to fall into the momentum of what everyone else is doing---what others seem to expect a good Christian to be. And it can be easy to lose hope while wasting energy mimicking someone else.

A few years ago I was sitting in church when the Sunday School teacher asked how we recognize a Christlike person. He said they are enthusiastic, energetic, "bubbly."

"Bubbly?" Mr. R whispered.

He and I are far from "bubbly."

It can sometimes seem like the Church of Christ is made for the highly social. Those with less energy need not apply.

A well-meaning friend once asked my friend Emily why she rarely attended church activities outside of the three-hour block and meetings required for her calling. She explained, "I'm kind of an introvert. I'm not really drawn to those kinds of activities."

The other friend responded, "Well, at least you can acknowledge your weaknesses so you can work on them."

Note to the world: Introversion is not a weakness; it's a character trait. Emily wasn't apologizing for her priorities but trying to explain them.

The dictionary defines extroversion as "the act, state, or habit of being predominantly concerned with and obtaining gratification from what is outside the self." In other words, according to Wikipedia, extroverts "tend to enjoy human interactions and to be enthusiastic, talkative, assertive, and gregarious. They take pleasure in activities that involve large social gatherings, such as parties, community activities, public demonstrations, and business or political groups."

On the other hand, introversion is "the state of or tendency toward being wholly or predominantly concerned with and interested in one's own mental life." Wikipedia says that introverts "are people whose energy tends to expand through reflection and dwindle during interaction. Introverts . . . often take pleasure in solitary activities such as reading, writing, drawing, tinkering, playing video games, watching movies and plays, and using computers, along with some more reserved outdoor activities such as fishing. . . . The archetypal artist, writer, sculptor, engineer, composer, and inventor are all generally highly introverted."

Is there room for extro- and introverts in a Church that is supposed to be unified?

Sure, as long as "unity" does not mean "conformity."

I appreciate the example given by my co-worker Jim Summerhays in a Meridian Magazine article a while back:

I once noticed something strange as the Brethren spoke in general conference. I was curious to see that President Thomas S. Monson identified with the gospel in terms of his interactions with others—the widows of his ward and the other downtrodden sojourners of life. He interweaved into his sermons highly personal stories of his youth, the human dramas of others, and his personal ministry. Others like Elder Bruce R. McConkie identified with the gospel in striking contrast. Elder McConkie taught in cosmic and sweeping doctrinal terms. He rarely told stories and seemed to have a vendetta against using time at the pulpit to tell personal anecdotes. I puzzled at why such wide variations in personality and speaking styles existed among leaders of the Church. And even more to my amazement, and here is the material point, I noticed that they weren’t even trying to be alike.

One of my favorite quotes on the topic of individuality within the Church comes from Patricia Holland, wife of the Apostle Jeffrey R. Holland:

I have learned through several fatiguing failures that you can’t have joy in being bubbly if you are not a bubbly person. . . . Somewhere, somehow, the Lord "blipped the message onto my screen" that my personality was created to fit precisely the mission and talents he gave me. . . . Miraculously, I have found that I have untold abundant sources of energy to be myself. But the moment I indulge in imitation of my neighbor, I feel fractured and fatigued and find myself forever swimming upstream. When we frustrate God’s plan for us, we deprive this world and God’s kingdom of our unique contributions. God never gave us any task beyond our ability to accomplish it. We just have to be willing to do it our own way. We will always have enough resources for being who we are and what we can become.

For more reading on this topic, check out "An Introvert Goes to Church", published by Focus on the Family's webzine Boundless. The author suggests evidence that Jesus Himself had introverted tendencies.

Maybe I'm succeeding at following His example after all.

Tuesday's Blessings

1. Waking up in time to walk around the neighborhood when the stars were still bright.
2. Going back to bed when the sun was coming up.
3. Sleeping until 11. (11! What the?)
4. Lucky Charms for brunch.
5. Insightful scripture study despite my mad rush to get to work before the day was over.
6. Working with cool peeps at the university who don't judge me for sleeping till 11. Not that I told them why I was late.
7. No rush-hour traffic or construction traffic jams of any kind. Today's biggest miracle.
8. Delicious Greek gyro wraps for din din. You must ask me for the recipe.
9. Good conversation with Ma.
10. Finally getting my office supplies organized while watching BIGGEST LOSER season premier.
11. Mr. R coming home in one piece after church basketball.
12. Lucky Charms for bedtime snack.

I feel lucky indeed.

The Post in which I Joke (Sort of) About an Angelic Visitation

In January, Mr. R and I adopted a kitten.

"He's my favorite," the shelter employee said. "I'm so glad you chose him."

"Why is he your favorite?" I asked.

"Because he's the only one who's learned how to escape."

Nacho the cat didn't spend a lot of time trying to escape from our house, but he spent a fair amount of time getting trapped. It took us a few instances of discovering him locked in our bedroom, kitty havoc littering the carpet, before we realized we needed to prop the door open with The Chicago Manual of Style, 14th Ed., or close it completely. Nacho liked batting at the door until it closed, never learning that when he played that game, he got stuck.

About a month ago we went on a river rafting trip. On the second night of our trip, I remembered: we hadn't propped the door open. I got a bad feeling. I *knew* our poor cat was stuck without litter, food, or water. I could almost sense his frustration and hear his plaintive meows. We called the neighbors for help, but no one answered the phone.

Like I should have done in the first place, I prayed. I asked that God would make Nacho comfortable or send an angel to let him out---the kind of assignment I'm sure angels roll their eyes over. I finished my prayer, felt peace, and stopped worrying for the most part.

When Mr. R and I returned home, Nacho loudly met us at the door, free and totally fine. Then I walked down the hall and smelled something bad. The master bedroom door was shut tight, and inside, I found evidence of a trapped and unhappy cat. At least he used the bathroom rug instead of our bed. Maybe he even tried to use toilet paper, since a long pile of it lay shredded on the floor.

Had an angel really been in my house? Beamed Nacho through a closed door so he could drink some water and eat some food and use his box? I know a more logical culprit was probably a strong puff of air from the a/c vents, popping the door open long enough for Nacho to escape and sucking it closed again.

Either way, my house felt a little holier in all its stinky glory. I knew the Lord had told me my cat needed help. Then He'd told me that He'd sent help. He let me know He'd answered a prayer for a cat, no matter how silly. He let me know this just before Nacho disappeared.

Now every time I step on another jingle-ball toy or flannel-eared mouse or chewed up pen, I worry. What if Nacho is bored without his toys? What if he's cold without a lap to sleep on? What if he's hungry? (We leave food on the porch, but I think raccoons are eating it.) Worse, what if Nacho is owl food or tire-tread coating or lost and lonely and sad? I know these are not pressing questions for cat haters or people who've lost much more than a shelter pet who probably went bezerk and decided to return to his feral roots. But still. I feel sad to not have an acrobatic, wide-eyed, purring, orange-striped pal in the house. (I admit I do not feel sad to have a flat-eared, brushy-tailed, biting machine *out* of the house. But we take the good with the bad, don't we.)

I wonder if God let the cat out of my bedroom so I'd remember that He's heard our prayers before---so I'd know He's heard them now, too, even if the answer this time is that we aren't likely to see Nacho again.

I feel sad. That cat was super funny. He was my alarm clock. He was my nemesis. He was my heating pad. And he was Mr. R's buddy.

But I feel happy because God affirmed His awareness of our silly cat at the exact right time so I would be comforted. God has opened doors for Nacho before. Maybe he let the furry beast into your house. If so, do you want me to come take him off your hands? You might be tired of all the biting and scratching by now.

Freedom from Purposelessness

I haven't read any of Jonathan Franzen's novels yet, but I love what he had to say when he was on the cover of Time recently. The journalist who interviewed him pointed out that "for Franzen's characters, too much freedom is an empty, dangerously entropic thing. . . . At her lowest ebb, Patty reflects that she 'had all day every day to figure out some decent and satisfying way to live, and yet all she ever seemed to get for all her choices and all her freedom was more miserable.' And no one is freer than a person with no moral beliefs."

Then Franzen says: "One of the ways of surrendering freedom is to actually have convictions. And a way of further surrendering freedom is to spend quite a bit of time acting on those convictions."

To me, this describes living as a faithful Mormon.

Think of the happiest people you know. What is their purpose in life? I think this is a question happy people can answer readily. People who have a lot of freedom to do and be whatever they want but don't want to have to commit to anything seem to be lost, not happy.

Sometimes people wonder why I believe that God actually wants me to do so much---they claim that Mormons' busy-ness indicates we are not relying upon God's grace sufficiently. And if we approach our faith as a check-off sheet of things God expects us to do on our own power or He'll be mad at us, yes, I believe legalism can become a huge problem in any faith. But the answer, for me, is not to throw out requirements in order to feel more grace. For me, I am never more aware of God's grace than when I am trying to do something good that I already know I cannot do on my own.

When people claim I am not free because I'm invited (some would say "expected") to spend so much time making the church function through various volunteer opportunities, or because I'm invited to spend so much time reading, listening to, and discerning how to personally apply the counsel of Church leaders, both at the local level and at the top of a hierarchy, I would give them Franzen's response regarding how I feel about all of these time commitments and convictions:

"I came to realize that because my purpose on earth seems to be to write novels, I am actually freer when I'm chained to a project: freer from guilt, anxiety, boredom, anger, purposelessness."

Because my purpose on earth seems to be to write novels, be happy, love God, love family, love friends, and find a way to feel I am making a difference, I am freer when I'm "chained" to a God who makes it possible for me to do these things better than if decided I was the ultimate authority. I am freer when I abide by the commandments I've found to be valuable through life experience than when I throw out all parameters in search of freedom.

The journalist interviewing Franzen notes, "There is something beyond freedom that people need: work, love, belief in something, commitment to something. Freedom is not enough. It's necessary but not sufficient. It's what you do with freedom---what you give it up for---that matters."