I'm Not Meant to Be a Chicken

Today in sacrament meeting we had a couple of recent converts speak on their conversions and their faith. It was really uplifting to listen to and if you know them you are proud of every step they take because they are awesome. We heard about their lives and their trip to the temple to do baptisms for the dead and were inspired by their courage. The husband in particular was able to speak to my soul.

He shared a story...

...about a baby eagle that fell from its nest and was raised as a chicken. This eagle was content to behave this way and didn't know any different. Finally a naturalist came and spoke to the farmer about the eagle.  

The naturalist tried twice to get the eagle to fly from the farm by placing him up on a fence post and telling him he was more than a chicken. Both times the bird looked back at his adopted home and feeling comfortable there, jumped back down and remained with the chickens. The farmer explained that he was no longer an eagle. 

Finally the naturalist took the eagle far away to a mountain top and tried again. He told the bird who he truly was and allowed him to view the landscape below. Without the comfort of his home the bird was ready to try and he soared.

Finishing this story, the brother stated he was the eagle and he had to be removed from his comfort zone to finally rise to his potential.

For months I have felt so inadequate and weak in my new home, work, and church callings. In our last town I was important and doing well. My teaching was appreciated and needed - with high test scores that were improving. My church work wasn't huge, but I played the organ and taught classes and felt needed and capable of serving. Our home life made sense with me working during the day and my wife working at night more for her sanity than anything, but she loved it.

Now I work in a big city in a different state. I am one of 30 math teachers instead of nine. With new textbooks, all regular kids (I've always had 2 classes of honors kids each year), and a high school known for high achievement - I feel incapable a lot. Throw in the fact that my wife is pregnant and stressing over the messes our children make in the home, my church callings that don't fit my personality and skill sets, and you have a recipe for low self-esteem.

Then that talk was given in church today and I heard the words "out of my comfort zone" and felt the Spirit whisper, "You are here because you are meant to be more. You need this to learn and grow into something greater than you could have been where you were." I felt a little peace and knew I wasn't struggling aimlessly.

Sure, I will continue to feel that I am not up to the task. I surely don't do everything I am supposed to do in order to be perfect in all the parts of my life, but who does? Only those who either have sweat through the hard times or those who refuse to leave the comfort of the hen house to soar up where they belong.

I know that life will continue to be challenging and I am positive I will keep struggling just to stand on my feet and say "I'm okay." However, I know that my Savior stands with me. He continues to led and guide me through his Holy Spirit and the messages of hope and peace he sends my way. I will take the road less traveled on to be the man he needs me to be.

Poisoned Pedestals

I remember the first time an authority figure let me down and I recognized it. That experience cut me deeply and made me question a lot of things I'd understood. Different events of my past, beliefs I'd held forever, even my own self-image were all shaken permanently. It was at that time that I began learning one of life's hardest lessons - no one, and I mean no one, is perfect.

Now, as simple a lesson as that is, you'd think decades later I would know it well enough to apply it to my life. Since no one is perfect, and I'm included there, I must accept that we all have faults and that goodness doesn't depend on a measurement of our spiritual yin-yang balance, but on something deeper.

After dwelling on this for some weeks now, I've realized that we all place people or our idea of people on pedestals and look at them from down below. These sculpted, chiseled busts of who we think people are give us this strange sense of false comfort and ill-placed trust. Not that placing faith in others is wrong nor believing in the good of others. Rather, it is the erroneous construct that since "so-and-so" is up there on that pedestal, they are trustworthy and good. Sounds a bit like idol worshiping.

There are real dangers in allowing ourselves to build these pedestals and place people on them. In time, we will compare ourselves to our created images and realize we are short and that we are not worthy to be in such a lofty station as them. We will come to know that we will never fit in with our perfect population of statues and despair.

Moreover, we will begin looking down on others and see how even more unlike our creations they are than we. Because we cannot bring ourselves up to the status of our perfect, objectified creations, we will tear others down - for if they are even worse than us, perhaps we aren't so bad after all. If we truly knew what we were doing in our mind we would be horrified and disgusted with ourselves.

I try very hard not to tear down my colleagues and those I love. When I catch myself doing it, I am quick to dismiss the thought and remind myself of how the Lord loves them and they are amazing, faults and all. I used to be very good at not judging others much at all - though that became lessened as I grew older. But I have little strength in resisting the temptation to destroy myself.

Lately, I've realized that I've placed an image of myself on the same pedestal that I've been removing my parents, leaders, and friends from. While I have slowly grown to accept their flaws and see the good in them I refuse to ignore my own mistakes and focus on them. Each time I fall short of completing an assignment or I fail to foresee a problem, I feel as though I have failed beyond hope. I have to be the perfect image of myself that I placed on the stand or I am not good enough.

You see, like many others, I've constructed a pedestal and put a bust on there. For some it is their leaders, for others like me, themselves, and still others it is some idea or concept in their life. No matter what we place on that exalted place, if it isn't the Lord himself, we are only poisoning ourselves with blind faith, misguided aspirations, or love of mammon and things. Wanting to be better and perfect ourselves is good - doing it in a way that ignores the truth of how each of us is flawed will only lead to further heartache and sorrow.

I have read several biographies of LDS church presidents and grown to love how these imperfect men did their best in spite of their weaknesses (and sometimes because of them) and ended up making the world a better place. It is marvelous to me to know how they struggled with my afflictions, my temptations, my worries, and still performed so many labors of love in this life. I have been gaining a truer testimony of this work since beginning to understand what many of the Lord's anointed have stated - that they are "mortal and subject to human imperfection" but "While neither perfect nor infallible, these good men and women have been perfectly dedicated to leading the work of the Lord forward as He has directed." (Elder Ballard, October 2015 General Conference).

Over time I hope I will be able to remove the pristine statue of myself that I placed on high and be able to just find joy in my own progression and seeing the hand of the Lord in my life. That I will rejoice in all the good God does in my life. That I will never again place another soul on a pedestal nor compare another to someone I've placed there. That I will come to understand how the words "Exaltation is our goal; discipleship is our journey," (Pres. Utchdorf, October 2015 General Conference) really tell us to aim high, desire to be better, but continue putting one foot in front of the other now and with joy.

And that I will only choose as a perfect role model for myself, Jesus Christ - the one exception to the rule "no one is perfect."

Pillars of Worth and Strength

"When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things," (1 Cor 13:11).

I remember as a child thinking things would always work out, somehow. Mom and Dad were there and we had a roof and food and even surprise Christmas gifts from Secret Santas occasionally. It seemed I could rely on them for whatever we truly needed.

Then things were harder. I learned about finances and our own family's budget. Asking for things, even AP test fees seemed too much. I didn't want to hurt the family. I know now that this was foolish thinking, but I was more naive then (still am).

As I left for my mission, I discovered another concern - my testimony. It never left me, nor was buried, but because I had relied on my mother's and those of other people I knew, I couldn't see my own. As the mission progressed I grew stronger and by the end I was able to find my testimony and use it as needed to preach and teach with the power of the Holy Spirit.

But I took those same foolish ideals from my childhood with me - that I could shoulder the burdens of others, even the world. That we can aid others and strengthen them is certain. That we can do the work for them is a lie. It doesn't work. People have to learn to carry certain burdens themselves or there is no growth.

How much I've wanted to carry others on my back through their spiritual struggles and heal the hearts of the emotionally wounded. I have tried and took things home from my mission that I thought it was my duty to carry on with. But a still naive twenty one year old boy doesn't have the power to do that.

As more and more things piled up, from family to future family and people from the past, I grew weaker. I put so much emphasis on supporting others that I didn't support myself. Don't get me wrong, service is important, but it has to be done in the right way - with a pure heart. Serving others to prove my self worth is not the right motivation. My worth comes intrinsically from God, not my doing.

I suffered greatly from this kind of erroneous thinking - that I had to be the pillar for others to be worth something. That if I screwed up or let someone down I was worthless. Naturally, breaking points came and I began falling apart at the seams. Rebuilding from the low I hit after that has been hard, but I am doing it based off some new ideals - my new pillars:

I am a child of God.

I am worth loving.

I am a good person.

I am a good husband and father.

I am a good son.

I wrote those as topic sentences to myself in a letter during a late night return at a clothing store. I sat in the parking lot and cursed my inability to love myself. Then, inspiration struck! I pulled out my notebook and wrote down a letter with those sentences and filled the paragraphs with examples. In the end I reordered them and added the "good son" line. It saved me.

God is the ultimate pillar of strength. Knowing that He loves us and that we are His children changes everything. We are worth loving, every one of us because we are His. That should be enough. "God is love," (1 John 4:8). With that in place, we can extrapolate and add on a lot, but it would all just pale in comparison with the first.

"Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God; and every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God.

He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love.

In this was manifested the love of God toward us, because that God sent his only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through him.

Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins," (1 John 4:7-10).

He sent his perfect son to save this wayward one. Of all things in the universe, God's love is sure.

I may not be able to save everyone, nor shoulder all their burdens on my back, but God loves me anyway. I will do my best to serve him and show my love in return.