Carest Thou Not That We Perish?

When I was a missionary, I experienced some anxiety.  Not just some anxiety, the worst anxiety of my life.  It got to the point where I was crying multiple times a day, terrified to leave the house where I was staying.  Through this time, I had an amazing companion who held me when I cried and reminded me how to breathe.  Her support was amazing, but I never got better.  I was just looking over a hymn I contemplated during that time, "Master the Tempest Is Raging."  Then and now I can relate to lot of the feelings attributed to the disciples of Jesus as they were tossed in the storm.  The tempest of covid, the rising wave, growing bigger, coming closer, "Carest thou not [Jason Kenney] that we perish? How canst thou lie asleep When each moment so madly is threat'ning A grave in the angry deep?" The song calls out, to some powerful other, to act, to change the situation, to speak and be obeyed.  The song trusts that the will of the almighty is peace and stillness.  And yet, the disciple, I, continue to cry out as if not heard over the raging storm.  "Master with anguish of spirit I bow in my grief today. The depths of my sad heart are troubled. Oh, waken and save I pray!  Torrents of sin and of anguish Sweep o'er my sinking soul, And I perish! I perish! dear Master. Oh hasten and take control!"  While  the song continues to a place of rest on a blissful shore, no matter how much I cried out, that promised shore remained a frail hope.  The third verse of the song too quickly turned positive that I couldn't quite believe it possible.  Though I wish now that those in charge would take stronger actions to prevent the third wave from rising ever higher and crashing down on us, I am left feeling insignificant.  Nobody is listening to me.  The peace and calm of a post covid world are beyond my grasp and past a daunting third wave.  I see only the wave.  It blocks both the sun and any hope from my view.  How long must I wait?  How much longer?  I thought 2021 was the year. 

As a missionary, I too waited for the end to come.  Then, after I'd been a missionary for about a year, my anxiety began to go away.  Never completely, but the impending doom was lifted, and the sunshine no longer obscured.  There were some situational changes that were beyond my control, but those weren't the reason I could see the sun.  At some point I realised that happiness was a choice, it was a mood I could choose, and I didn't have to wait for God to change the circumstances.  I didn't have to wait until I went home.  I could find happiness where I was.  It worked.  My attitude changed because I decided it would change.  I sang.  I sang happy songs, not song about some distant hope nor pie in the sky, but songs about goodness on earth, now.  I sang:

"In a world where sorrow

Ever will be known,

Where are found the needy

And the sad and lone,

How much joy and comfort

You can all bestow,

If you scatter sunshine

Ev’rywhere you go."

 Rather than waiting for happiness to find me, rather than trusting some other being to rid me of anxiety, I took that decision into my own hands.  I wonder if I can't do that today.  Sometimes I feel that I have a right be be upset.  I have a right to be anxious as I am often in close contact with others at work.  I have a right to blame to government for letting people die, for keeping my workplace open.  I have a right to worry about the health of those I love.  I have the right to be grumpy when I start work early.  I have the right to be miserable.  So, maybe I do, but what good does any of that do me, or those around me?  I may have a right to be anxious, but what if I can choose to be happy?  I know it isn't easy, but I've done it before, so I trust that it is possible.  With some counselling, with constant little choices to see good in the world around me, with a smile on my face and thanksgiving in my heart, it is possible.

"When the days are gloomy,

Sing some happy song;

Meet the world’s repining

With a courage strong.

Go with faith undaunted

Thru the ills of life;

Scatter smiles and sunshine

O’er its toil and strife."

* Master the Tempest Is Raging: Text: Mary Ann Baker

** Scatter Sunshine: Text: Lanta Wilson Smith 

From Polarisation, Hate and Fear to Community, Joy and Hope: Thankful 1928

I was encouraged by my friend's example to show real life on social media. FB has often been accused of being a platform where people present their picture perfect lives, and others feel horrible because they cannot match up.
Not all the posts on FB are cheery. Recently I've noticed a lot of political posts, often written from a place of despair or anger. People are worried about the economy, they are fret about job security and powerful politicians. It has been easy for me to feel anxious, hopeless about my city and the economy and the future of human kindness and civilisation. 

Polarisation, hate, fear. 

Now for my real life moment. My wife and I went to a Christmas lights display at a golf course. We watched a sort of community form, of families and friends enjoying the lights. As we walked past the tobogganing hill, I heard genuine laughter. True, I don't know the challenges they face. Perhaps the man sliding down the hill with his toddler on him lap just lost his job. Perhaps the friends, each pulling a child on a sled, can't sleep at night, afraid of what the world will be when their children grow up. A couple holding hands. Perhaps they worry that they won't be able to pay their bills this month, so they decided not to put up their own lights. Each person there has struggles and challenges, but at that moment they chose to be happy. Regardless of political situations, economic slowdowns, uncertainties about the future, we can choose happiness. On a cold dark evening, light coaxed people out of their homes, rewarded them with joy and filled me with hope. If they find peace, perhaps I too can choose to enjoy life here, rather than running from the difficulties, dreaming of that stress free place that just doesn't exist. For this experience I am truly thankful.

Community, joy, hope.

Where's the Peace?

There is peace in Christ
When we’re straight like him
We’ll feel the love he felt for us
If we’re free from sins.
Listen to his words
Let them condemn me
If we know him and are cis
There is peace in Christ.

He gives us hope
Hope to be straight
He gives us strength
So we can’t move on
He gives us shelter
A closet to hide
When there’s no peace in me
Where’s the peace in Christ?

There is peace in Christ
If we sacrifice
The way he’s made us to be
If we lose ourselves
It will break our hearts
We’ll have tear-filled eyes
When we live as straight as him
There is peace in Christ.*

* Adapted from: https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/youth/bc/youth/theme/2018/music/lyrics-sheets/peace-in-Christ-lyrics.pdf?lang=eng 

I am not bitter nor angry, just confused and not at peace.

Death or Life

The blogpost I read yesterday left me feeling pretty hopeless.

What I took away from it was that the only way to find happiness in this life is to hope for, seek for and hopefully find, a romantic partner, where both partners feel strong romantic feelings for the other. One idea that was strongly presented was that denying oneself of the pursuit of a romantic relationship resulted in dying, in becoming more and more anxious and depressed and far too often in suicide. While he did not quote any sources, he spoke with one having authority, and I cannot deny his struggle nor the struggles of so many like us.

Am I depressed because I don’t seek for a girlfriend, because I don’t allow myself to hope for a romantic relationship with someone I could love?

Is there no other way to be happy but to search for a romantic partner?

Even if I take anti-depressants, if I exercise and socialise, am I fighting a losing battle? Is the battle to become a happy, faithful Latter-day saint one that I can never win?

Am I dying? Am I killing myself slowly by denying myself of an intimate relationship with a woman?

With these heavy questions playing through my mind, I got to bed late, only to wake up early to head to the temple. While the temple has motivated me to stay faithful before, I wondered if it is really worth it. I go to the temple regularly, I enjoy my time there, but it hasn’t brought lasting peace into my day to day life, it hasn’t made me happy. It hasn’t taken my depression away. I am still dying on the inside.

Before the session began, I found myself focused on a picture I had never noticed before. It is a picture of Jesus Christ standing on a hill outside of a city. I wasn’t sure if it was depicting a specific story. What I did notice, however, was the light radiating from the character of Christ. I was reminded of my institute class from yesterday. “I am the light and the life,” Jesus said.

It struck me, Jesus Christ is my source of life. No potential lover can take his place. While I believe that (and I also believe looking for such life from humans will lead to disappointment), I also believe there is value, a lot of value and a lot of good that comes from human interaction and human intimacy. It isn’t good for Patricia to be alone.

As usual, I struggled to stay away during the session. Suddenly, a phrase hit me, jolting me awake, having me wish I could rewind and listen again. It was a phrase reminding me of a covenant I made with God, a covenant I made to sacrifice, to sacrifice, if necessary, even my life. If the aforementioned blogger is right, if foregoing any hope of a lesbian lover causes me to die inside, even death is not a reason to forsake my covenants, for dying is what I have covenanted to do.

I didn’t get any warm-fuzzies, while I was in the temple, telling me that my life would be easy and happy, but I was reminded that I do have hope. I hope for that which God has planned for me, I hope that his plan is greater than my plan. I hope, indeed, I have faith that what he offers is greater than the joys I could find in a romantic relationship. I don’t know what God envisions for my life, but I know his vision is greater than mine and so I have hope.

I hope that hope is enough to keep me going and to keep me living. Not just to keep me physically alive, but to keep me alive, and thriving, inside.

Now!

While symptoms of depression and anxiety are not new in my life, I am finally realising them for what they are and deciding that it is time for a change. A great motivator has been writing a list of what “better” would look like.

What better looks like:

confidence in social interactions

church without fear or extreme discomfort

grocery shopping without feeling overwhelmed

better understanding and awareness of my feelings (recognising stress prior to feeling physical symptoms like stomachaches and headaches)

no thoughts of self harm

no negative self talk

willing to make commitments

worry doesn’t take away from my enjoyment of the present

greater awareness and acceptance of my attractions

no disproportionate reaction to touch

no dread of going to bed

motivation to wake up in the mornings

consistently care about what I care about

friendships in which I am raw

no delay of leaving/being late because of fear/discomfort about where I am going

no general aversion to food

no feelings of vulnerability when wearing a skirt

be okay with looking pretty/attractive

give worries reasonable weight/attention

hope

social interactions a delight and not a burden

Since making this list I have been more motivated to get help and get better. This morning I saw my doctor and she suggested I try some counselling to see if that helps before trying meds. Counselling, learning to change my though patterns, take time and is work. Meds also take time to work. I want to be better now. I don’t want to wait, and I don’t want to work. I crawled out of bed to go see the doctor; when I got home, I crawled right back into bed. I guess I don’t have much hope. I can’t promise myself that every aspect of better will be accomplished as I heed the words of my counsellor; improvement won’t be in an instant, but it is possible.

And yet:

If I were miraculously healed now, I’d feel like that would discredit my current feelings. The difficulty I am having in explaining this is perhaps evident that this thought process is illogical. If I instantly get better, then I will believe I was never sick. I want to be sick. I want to be sick because I want there to be a reason I am feeling as I do. I want to be sick because then there is reason to hope that better is possible. I want to be sick because if this is normal, normal is horrible. Normal isn’t worth living. If I am miraculously happy now, if I wake up as jolly as a daisy tomorrow, I’ll forget how awful I’ve felt. These feelings so present now will flutter away with the dust, and I’ll begin to believe I always was fine. If I wake up happy tomorrow I’ll decide I don’t need counselling, and certainly not medication, but these awful, horrible feelings inevitably will come back. They always do.

Purpose

As a missionary I taught the Plan of Salvation as an answer to the question "why we are here?"  It is an important question which the Plan of Salvation answers in many big ways.  We are here to learn, grow and progress.  We are here to gain a body and to eventually live with Heavenly Father again.  We are here to be part of families, to love and to be loved.  We are here to face challenges, hardships and trials, and ultimately, to overcome.  We are here to try, and because of our saviour's atonement, we are here to make mistakes, to learn to repent and to find forgiveness.  We are here to have joy.

Regardless of knowing the above, I go day to day often with little purpose.  I don't know why I get out of bed in the morning, I don't know what to do with my time to make it meaningful, I don't know why I am here.  Living life without a purpose is really hard.

When it was suggested to me today that I have a hard time finding purpose in my day to day life, I wanted to retaliate.  I wanted to argue "But the Church..." The Church, the doctrines it presents, provide meaning in my life.  I ought to have purpose, I know the doctrine, I have taught it time and again.  That said, I could not disagree.  From day to day, moment to moment, my life lacks purpose.  I notice this lack of purpose when I am playing games on my phone, not because I am enjoying the game, but because I can think of no activity which would bring meaning into my life.  I notice this lack of purpose when I cannot will myself out of bed in the morning.  I notice this lack of purpose when I check my social media accounts again and again, not sure what I am looking for, but never finding fulfillment.

Yet I believe the Plan of Salvation is God's plan for us, even for me.  However, I have a hard time applying it to the moments which make up my life.  My purpose here is to progress, to become like God.

How does waking up early and actually getting out of bed help me to become like God?
How does brushing my teeth help me progress?
Will I progress faster if I make and eat pancakes for breakfast or if I eat cereal?
How does my decision on what I wear help me to progress?
And then what?  What meaningful activities can I do before work which will help me progress?
Yes, there is scripture study, and prayer, but what else?
Does sending a text help me progress?
Do I progress as I play games on my phone?
Will skating endless figure-eights aid in my progression?
Does developing and using my skills help me to progress?  Which skills should I develop?
How do I make sure work is more than work, but that I take hold of the opportunities in which I can progress?
How does staying up late writing a blog post help me to progress?

Perhaps it seems silly to consider how each action plays in to my eternal destiny (and if I do not go about this carefully, I may end up feeling stressed about my lack of progression), but if my actions are not eternally significant, then they are not significant, and quickly I begin to wonder if I am significant at all.

If I am going to find joy, I must see the greater significance behind my seemingly meaningless actions.  I must determine which actions will help me become who it is that I want to become.  Progression is a slow journey.  I cannot expect to find meaning in a day.  I still do not know what will get me out of bed tomorrow.  Yet, if in each day I can find some meaning, if I can understand, even if ever so slightly, how my activities are helping me become the best me, if I can take small steps forward, then let me celebrate.  I am here for a reason.  "This is the day which the Lord hath made; [I] will rejoice and be glad in it." - Psalm 118:24

But the LORD hardened Pharaoh's heart...

I cried out to the LORD,
Day after day I sought him. 
In the mornings, I offered a prayer.
At night I read his Word.
Oh God, forget not your servant.
At night I fell asleep alone.
In the morning I awoke, but I was alone.
I sought the LORD All my days
He heeded not my cry.

The LORD is my Shepard
I followed the list of shalls and shall nots.
Rest escapes me
Peace is an illusion
My soul trudges on, alone on this path unknown.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil
For this is normal to me,
though it is far from comforting.
You've set nothing before me
I have so much because of the blood and sweat of factory labourers
They are not my enemies, nor are they in my presence.
Surely goodness comes to the oppressors,
And those who eat at their table.
They dwell in the house of blessings,
From which I have chosen to walk away.

I cried to the LORD, or LORD, hear my plea.
I cried to the LORD, and begged him to come near to me.
I called out the I might not be alone
I called in hopes that he might be known
I cried out to the LORD.
I cried out.
I listened.
I listened for the LORD.
I opened my ear that he might be known
I opened my ear to hear that I wasn't alone.
I listened for the LORD's footsteps coming near to me.
I listened for the LORD, but the LORD heard not my plea.

The LORD hardened my heart.  Did his divine hand come into my body and make it stone, no.  His divine hand never came into my life.  When I sought him, he was not found.  When I called to him, he did not answer.  My heart is hard.  Why wouldn't it be hard?  How can I soften what God has hardened?  Why would I hope again when hope has just led to disappointment.  God, who is God?  Does he exist?  I don't know, but I don't think I can trust him with my heart.  Why would I?  God?  Maybe there's a God, but I don't think he'll make me feel complete.  I'm not whole, but maybe that is okay.  Maybe brokenness is just part of human existence.  I don't want to be bitter.  I don't want my heart to be hard.  If I life without expectations, then I will not be disappointed.

Oh, God,  do what you promise,  "I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh."  Ezekiel 36:26.  But I am not going to wait around for you to do something.  I won't hope in the one who has so often disappointed.  I'll try to soften my own heart.  Is that as foolish as it sounds?

Dang Christian Hope

There are a lot of problems in this world: children dying of hunger, people exploited as labourers or trafficked for sex, people killed in wars for freedom.  This stuff is bad, and so I ask, what can we do, what can I do, to change the situation?

I've been told that I should do my part, be faithful with what I have, do as I should, and even if I don’t accomplish much, it will all work out in the eschatological end.  God will come back and set things right.  Don’t worry too much if a child dies of hunger, this life is a short trial, but heaven will be so lovely that these earthly struggles will be forgotten.

I don’t like it.  I find this answer to be too simplistic.  It feels like a cop-out to me.  It seems to me to render this live meaningless, or at least relatively insignificant.  While those with such a mindset often seek to alleviate the suffering of others, it seems they often to the good for the sake of doing the good.  They do care for those in their immediate presence, but don’t attempt to make the world a better place for everyone.  They realize they can’t, but they do their part to make life better for a few.  The do their part, God will take care of the rest… after they die.  I don’t like it.  It doesn't sit well with me.

The alternative seems to say, “Make the world better!”  It urges me not to be content with improving a few lives, but to seek world change, mass economic revolution and equality of all.  That begs the question, “how do we get there?”  Here’s the danger.  With such ambitious goals a temptation presents itself.  It is a little voice that answers the question slyly.  “By any means,” it says.  “By any means.”  Then those who dream about economic equality violently fight against the current powers.  Those who long that all be free and democratic use violence to work towards this end.

I don’t like it.  I fear this mentality all too often leads first to violence and rarely accomplishes what it set out to do.  I think extreme is good, but not all extremes.  We forget to do good in our immediate settings and dream only of what the world might be.  We might fight to get there, but in the way do more harm and actually accomplish little good.  A problem exists within this mindset because people are causing the problems, and getting rid of the problems all too often means causing harm to people.  I don’t like it.  It doesn’t sit well with me.

Well, my prof tried to offer me a third option, an option which hopes, which is a call not just to do our part, but to do all we can, together.  It is an option that recognizes limits and means congruent with the end.  It is an option that believe in the church, people, and hopes that they will come together to create social change.  He thinks that the church can have a greater influence than policy makers, politics or radicals…  I’m not sure I’m that hopeful.  I’m not sure I have that much faith.

Driving with God

I went for another long drive with God.  I felt like our conversation from yesterday had been cut short, and it needed to be finished.  I am not one for driving aimlessly, but with the mountains an hour away, there is always an aim.  It was pretty spontaneous, and I was pretty set on it.  I didn't even double check my agenda book to see if there is anything I was forgetting to do today.  
I tried to figure out why I was unsatisfied.  What was it that I wanted?  The answer I believe is pleasure.  I was trying to figure out what this "life to the full" that Christ offers really is, and I was getting quite tired of waiting for him to give it to me.  I was thinking that it was about time to go look for it on my own.  I've always felt like living a Christian life is not about feelings, nor is it about being happy, but I wanted to feel God near me.  I wanted to be happy.  Is there anything wrong with that?  
I hiked up a mountain quickly, until I was sweaty and gross.  I had to get to the top before the sun started going down.  I didn't want to hike back in the dark.  All I concluded is that God is my hope, my only hope.  There is pleasure in enjoying God's creation; I love hiking.  Singing kids' songs with actions while running down a mountain may not scare to cougars away, but it's a challenge and lots of fun.  I don't have the answers, but I'm not about to give up anymore.  I feel a lot more content than I have for a while.
Now I have to do the homework that I put off to go hiking in the daylight...

Hope for Hazel

She told us about the preacher who had come to the jail.

He was from the first non-hypocritical Church she had ever encountered

He had a real story

About real things.

He was passionate

He had been hurt.

He cried as he spoke.

As he remembered his trial.

His dad, a drunk beating his mom,

Beating him.

And then his life turned around

And now he is a preacher.

She told me that she wanted to go to his church on Sunday

For because of him, she thought, for the first time, that maybe, maybe there was hope.

Maybe there was hope for her in the midst of all she had gone through.

Since he had been able to change so much,

Maybe she could change too.