Repeat Offender

I often find myself coming to the Lord in prayer repenting for some sin for the 800th time and telling him that this time it's going to be different.  This time, I really do want to change this behavior.  I plead for his help in doing so.  I ask to recognize the promptings of the Spirit to gain strength as I try to change these behaviors.  And then I do great.  For a day, or a week, or maybe even a month.  And then those stinky little behaviors worm their way back into my life.  Habits that can't quite be rooted out.  And I find myself on my knees again.  Serious this time, I'm sure.

I'm certain I'm not the only repeat sinner in the world.  And I'm also certain that I probably can't lick every sin I recognize in one try.  But watching conference this weekend I realized (have you noticed that this blog is turning into the things I realize blog?  Perhaps I should rename it...) that my approach is often wrong.  When Donald L. Halstrom said that it's possible to be active in the church, but not the gospel, he really caught my attention.  I often focus too much on behavior and not enough on the cause of that behavior, good or bad.  I thought about Elder Uchtdorf telling us last Relief Society broadcast to remember the why of the gospel.  Actions truly are a symptom of something deeper.

During the stuff they have on between sessions on Sunday I was also struck by a sister talking about her road to overcoming her addiction to food.  She talked about the 12 step program being focused on having a change of heart.  She said she initially went with the intent to change her behavior,  not her heart.  Light bulb!  I go to the Lord and ask him to change my behavior, but I keep that little corner of my heart that was causing it, closed.  So of course it creeps back into my life.  Asking the Lord to help me change my behavior and not my heart is like asking a doctor to only treat the symptoms of a disease when he has the capacity to cure it.

I read this morning from Alma 5 about the mighty change of heart that comes with being converted to the gospel.  I hope my actions are good, but not because I want to live the gospel like some checklist, not because I want others to see that I'm a good member of the church, not because I'm afraid of the consequences if I miss a step. I hope my actions are good because they are a symptom of my heart being fully converted to and active in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. 

Even Nephi Needed Grace

A few weeks ago I had the chance to study 2 Nephi 4 in my personal study, our family study, and in Sunday school. I have always loved this passage of scripture.  The language is beautiful.  Nephi is honest and real.  My heart breaks for him in his tragic situation.  He just lost his father and now his brothers who he should be mourning with are becoming even more like enemies.  He starts his song in sorrow and ends by praising the Lord and reaffirming his faith. I've always looked up to Nephi as a perfect example.  I wish I had his faith, his obedience, his talent for pondering, and so many other things.

This time I saw something I hadn't noticed before in this chapter.  In verses 31-32 Nephi is asking the Lord to redeem his soul despite his shortcomings, "O Lord, wilt thou redeem my soul?  Wilt thou deliver me out of the hands of mine enemies?  Wilt thou make me that I may shake at the appearance of sin? 
May the gates of hell be shut continually before me, because that my heart is broken and my spirit is contrite!..." I have always and will continue to always look up to Nephi for his strength; however, in this passage he didn't cite his strength as merit for his salvation.  He pleaded to Heaven to be saved because his heart was broken and his spirit contrite.  He didn't say save me because I was the only one who was obedient.  He didn't say save me because I never lost faith.  He didn't say save me because my trials have been so hard.  He said save me because I'm doing all that I can do and repenting for the rest.  He understood and relied wholly on the Atonement of Jesus Christ for his salvation. 

I can and should look up to Nephi but I don't need to worry that I'm not as good as Nephi.  I'll probably never be as obedient and my faith will probably falter in ways his never did.  I may never learn to receive revelation the way he did.  But it doesn't matter.  The Lord asks for all we can do and then says his grace is sufficient for the rest.  My best and Nephi's best may not be the same, but the grace of Christ applies to us both equally.  I too can pray to be saved because my heart is broken and my spirit is contrite.  I can't be perfect on my own.  With Nephi I can rejoice in the strength of my Savior and pray for strength to become better.  The gospel of Jesus Christ isn't about comparing, it's not about being as good as someone else or meeting certain bench marks of righteousness to attain salvation.  It's about creating a partnership with our Savior and learning to live our lives with him.

Jacob was a good dad

There are a lot of things I enjoy about Jacob, the brother of Nephi, in The Book of Mormon. But perhaps my favorite thing I have learned about Jacob is: he was a good dad.  And I didn't even learn it from reading his teachings.  I learned it from reading about his son, Enos.  Don't worry, this isn't a lengthy post about scripture, but rather some things I've been thinking about parenthood, and childhood for that matter.  But the story of Enos helps me get there.  So stick with me for a minute.  Thanks.

We often read the story of Enos as an example of the power of prayer, the miracle of forgiveness, or an example of perfect faith.  It is all of these things.  But it's also a lesson in parenting, and childing (just made that up, you like it?).  In verse 3 Enos says, "Behold, I went to hunt beasts in the forests; and the words which I had often heard my father speak concerning eternal life, and the joy of the saints, sunk deep into my heart."  This tells me that Jacob talked to Enos about the gospel (and probably a lot of other things) a lot.  It also tells me that Enos didn't get it right away.  Maybe he was a typical(ish) teenage boy who rolled his eyes, or maybe he pretended like he wasn't listening or didn't care.  Maybe it was many years before he showed any signs of internalizing the things his father taught.  Maybe Jacob got frustrated, but he kept teaching (often!).  And when Enos finally did get it, he wasn't sitting at the dinner table with his dad.  He didn't tell his dad, "guess what I just figured out!  Thanks for teaching me all that stuff."  He was by himself, in a place where he could commune with God. 

I wonder how often my parents became frustrated thinking I just wasn't getting what they were trying to teach me.  But let me tell you, I think all of the time about the things my parents taught, and still do teach, me. Whenever I see a pile of stuff at the bottom of the stairs needing to go up, I think of my dad telling me how much easier it is to just take it with me when I go instead of stepping over it 800 times.  And sometimes I even take the pile when I go.  My dad may never believe that.  My mom taught me, mostly though example, that cooking isn't rocket science and yeast isn't going to explode and take over my kitchen.  She never saw the fruit of that labor at home.  There are a million more examples, but I'll spare you.

M is only one and I already worry about what I'm teaching her.  Do I talk to her enough?  Do we read enough books?  How can I teach her to share? (Seriously, if you have any ideas on that one, let me know).  Am I teaching her good eating habits?  Does she even know we're reading scriptures?  Worry, worry, worry.  But, Jacob's experience parenting, and my own experience childing, tell me not to worry so much.  Maybe she won't get it now, but she is getting it.  One day we prayed before dinner and she folded her arms, all by herself.  I was so proud.  

I'm thankful Jacob was a good dad and Enos took the time to write about it.