When I read my old missionary journal, I blush. I am sorely tempted to burn it. I am amazed how naïve I was! My fad diets were a nuisance to companions and the members who fed us. I was inconsiderate of companions and unwise in many decisions. Truly I was young beyond my years.

Yet recently I got a letter from my dear mission president—the man who had to sort out companionships and try to keep us all focused on spreading and living the Good News—in which he wrote: “you were a fine missionary and you deserve every blessing that you stand in need of.”

I had a jolt of joy. It was powerful. I stood and basked in his comment.

The jolt of joy wasn’t because I was convinced by President Rudd’s comment that I was a much better missionary than I remembered being. It wasn’t because I concluded that he didn’t remember my faults. It was because I felt his graciousness. He has forgiven me for being a nuisance. He has apparently filtered out the impurities from our experience and credits me with being earnest. He rummaged through our challenges and found some good.

The Power of Grace

What my mission president showed is grace, sweet grace. Even decades after my mission president continues to teach me the message of the Master as He treats me as if I were somehow remarkable.

For years we lived in Vernal. I have felt the same amazing grace when Nancy and I attended the temple there. In a small town there are always plenty of reasons for people to have unenthusiastic feelings about each other. The temple workers who dotted the path knew enough to judge me and resent me. Yet, many times as I climbed the stairs to the ordinance room, I fought back tears because of the graciousness of old neighbors who embraced us with love and warmth in that sacred place.

I knew I didn’t deserve their good will. So it was an act of grace when they chose to look beyond my fallenness and appreciate some hint of earnestness.

Lesser, Higher, and Heavenly Ways

In the course of our normal lives, we hurt, disappoint, and offend each other. The natural response is to fight back—an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, until we are all blind and toothless. This is the law that governs international relations and family feuds. It is driven by the logic and emotion of hell.

The better course is to be fair—to give due credit but also just condemnation. We are good to our friends but tight with the untrustworthy. This appears to be the higher road because of the tight logic and apparent objectivity. This is the logic of the legal system.

The City of Zion operates on a different law, one given by Jesus: “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” (Matthew 5:44). Jesus’ governing principle is grace.

Where is the Power?

In the great revelation on proper influence, God promised glorious rewards to those who do two things. “Let thy bowels also be full of charity towards all men (1), and to the household of faith, and let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly (2) . . . .”

Charity and virtue draw a flood of heavenly blessings: “. . . then shall thy confidence wax strong in the presence of God; and the doctrine of the priesthood shall distil upon thy soul as the dews from heaven. The Holy Ghost shall be thy constant companion, and thy scepter an unchanging scepter of righteousness and truth; and thy dominion shall be an everlasting dominion, and without compulsory means it shall flow unto thee forever and ever” (D&C 121:45–46).

I think that Father is telling us that the simple and consistent practice of charity and virtue will reap us the greatest rewards in all of eternity. It’s a simple formula.

But it’s not very popular among humans. We are often ungracious with each other. We often offend both charity and virtue as we size each other up and resent each other. Even in our more objective moods we assess, judge, measure, evaluate, and thereby minimize our fellow travelers in the journey toward Home. “Well, he’s a nice guy but he sure isn’t very reliable.” “He’d be a good boy if he only did his chores.”

In this mortal world, no noble deed goes unsuspected.

Latter-day Saints should be familiar with damning by faint praise. Our accomplishments are often begrudged or discredited by those who see us as peculiar. It is rare in this world to receive wholehearted appreciation.

But the Lord teaches us that there is great power when we look beyond the layers of sludge and humanness to see goodness. While God has not asked us to be gullible, He has asked us to be appreciative. Joseph F. Smith’s words are a continuing challenge to me: “We all have our weaknesses and failings. Sometimes the husband sees a failing in his wife, and he upbraids her with it. Sometimes the wife feels that her husband has not done just the right thing, and she upbraids him. What good does it do? Is not forgiveness better? Is not charity better? Is not love better? Isn’t it better not to speak of faults, not to magnify weaknesses by iterating and reiterating them? Isn’t that better? . . . Is it not better to drop [weaknesses and faults] and say nothing about them—bury them and speak only of the good that you know and feel, one for another, and thus bury each other’s faults and not magnify them; isn’t that better? (Teachings of the Presidents of the Church: Joseph F. Smith. Salt Lake City: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 1998), 180–81.

Seeing the Better Side

God recommends “kindness, and pure knowledge, which shall greatly enlarge the soul” (D&C 121:42). That recommendation is in stark contrast to the human tendency to analyze and categorize each other.

Traditional psychology feeds the monster. We have diagnostic categories for myriad disorders and our language is filled with labels for foibles. But Martin Seligman, a respected leader of the positive psychology movement, has said: “I do not believe that you should devote overly much effort to correcting your weaknesses. Rather, I believe that the highest success in living and the deepest emotional satisfaction comes from building and using your signature strengths.” (Seligman, 2002, p. 13).

Our greatest successes as individuals come from using our strengths; our greatest unity in groups comes from appreciating each other’s strengths. We can justifiably see each other as flawed, diseased lepers. But when we have charity we see each other as beloved miracles.

Recently I was pained when a friend in the state hospital became very angry with me and treated me harshly. Fortunately I was still basking in the warmth of President Rudd’s praise so I prayed for the grace to respond with meekness and understanding. I tried to understand the difficulties of this man’s life and struggle. In spite of my hurt, I chose not to throw gasoline on the fire of indignation. Two days later he called and apologized. On my next visit we embraced again as brothers.

I hope God will teach me to be less objective and more gracious. Every time we show grace in our homes, neighborhoods, or wards, we bring our community a little closer to the City of Zion. There is great power in grace.

May we bear one another’s burdens and cheer for each other’s successes. May we, in our small ways, be messengers of the kind of grace exemplified by our Great Redeemer and Advocate, Jesus Christ.

Some time ago we were visiting a ward in a distant city. I do not remember the subject of the lesson in the high priest group that day. But I clearly remember a comment by a brother. He faulted some missionaries who had been in their ward some years previous. Their misdeed had been to go for the “easy baptisms” that now were a hardship to the ward. “Our unit has been burdened by all the handicapped people that a few overzealous missionaries brought into the Church. How can our ward beexpected to carry so many burdens? We had to back off those missionaries.”

My spiritual hair stood on end. Something felt terribly wrong. Something whispered within me that the “lame, or blind, or halt, or maimed, or leprous, or . . . withered, or . . . deaf, or . . . afflicted in any manner” are a great treasure in any ward or branch. The idea was so involuntary and so foreign to logic that it had to be true.

The people in our congregations with the biggest challenges may be our greatest blessings. They are a constant reminder to us that Jesus always favored the broken honesty of the humble to the polished assurance of the prominent. He was “a friend of publicans and sinners.”

Chris is hampered by cerebral palsy but every Sunday he inspires ward members with his cheer. For more than 30 years he has been confined to a wheelchair—and he reads with difficulty—yet he blesses the sacrament. His father lifts him to his knees. Chris slowly and deliberately recites the prayer, mostly from memory. He enunciates every syllable the best he can. His father prompts him when he falters. Every heart is touched by his valiance.

Chris also leads the music in priesthood meeting. His father wheels him to the front of the gathering. His arm will not move far, his hand will not open fully, and many words are difficult for him to pronounce, yet he leads us. His face radiates the joy that is only known by the pure in heart. I am grateful to Chris for a weekly reminder that joy is the natural fruit of service and goodness.
I remember years ago visiting a rural Utah ward sacrament meeting with a friend. The Sunday I visited happened to be the first Sunday that 12-year-old Tommy passed the sacrament. He had the timidity and awkwardness that is common in 12-year-olds. In addition he was completely blind. He struggled along, carrying the sacrament tray and feeling the ends of the rows to get his bearings. He was not smooth nor confident. But he was sincere.

In our current ward we have more people with disabilities than any ward to which we have ever belonged. What a blessing! We are regularly blessed by those who are “lame, or blind, or halt, or withered, or afflicted in any manner.”

One sweet sister in our ward is completely blind. She lives alone and cares for a horse, three dogs, two cats and two birds. She is a faithful visiting teaching supervisor and stake missionary. She trains other blind people how to adapt. I remember a Sunday when she was sitting at the end of a row near us. When the deacon offered her the sacrament, she did not respond. She could not see it. Then someone noticed. A sensitive sister nearby came to her aid and drew her hand to the tray. I resolved to be less blind to others’ needs.

Due to the wide array of physical and emotional disabilities in our ward, members regularly reach out to guide, sustain, encourage, and love each other. Several give rides to the car-less. Some push wheelchairs. Many offer heartfelt love. What a great tutorial in compassion! This is an environment where Christ-like charity can flourish. Each of us in turn leans on that compassion as we make our own halting spiritual progress.

My life is blessed by many “disadvantaged” people I have known over the years. George has very few good teeth, very little education, very little reliable work, and only a hut to shelter him and his family, but he stands ready to help anyone in need.

Clif may not have much, but he provides his roof, his old truck, his tools, and his time to any troubled traveler. Most importantly, he offers encouragement even when he is despairing.

I have studied the people to whom the words “thy sins are forgiven” have been spoken in scripture. In some cases the recipients were sinners who yearned to be better. We are not surprised that they were granted cleansing for their repentance. But other recipients were lame or diseased. It catches us by surprise that Jesus should offer spiritual healing for physical maladies. What qualified them for the sweet blessing of having their sins removed?

The man sick of palsy is a case in point. When he sought healing, Jesus remitted his sins. For the benefit of the disbelieving scribes; Jesus also healed his palsy. But we ask, “What was it about the palsied man that qualified him for a forgiveness of sins?” The answer is central to the gospel message: He had humility.

Disability often ministers to our humility. And humility is the gate to heavenly goodness.
As those with disabilities struggle to do the ordinary, they may experience sustaining grace and come to know—better than most of us—our universal dependence upon God.

And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord” (Mosiah 24:15).

Jesus holds up the broken and misshapen as moral models to those of us who glide through life. I would not be surprised if a scientific study found that there is a direct correlation between the number of disabilities in a ward and that ward’s spiritual strength. Any pre-resurrection city of Zion is likely to have more wheelchairs than sports cars.

Perhaps those who limp through life volunteered in an earlier life to take more conspicuous and painful limitations than the rest of us. Perhaps they are the best among us. Perhaps they have special claim on the promise that the last shall be first.

They are poignant reminders that we all bear infirmities and none can be healed without divine ministrations.

. . . 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).

To be aware of our disabilities can lead us to the Healer. Those who appear unflawed may go unhealed.

I thank God for the sweet souls who have taught me so much. How we should welcome those with disabilities—financial, educational, emotional, physical, or spiritual—to our number! May Heavenly Father send us more of the sick and troubled and make us equal to the lessons they will teach us.

I remember riding in the car years ago with my beloved Grandpa Wallace. I was only a boy at the time. My brother, Alan, and I sat in the front seat with him. Grandpa took a pocketful of coins and divided them between my brother and me. I suppose that Grandpa wanted to provide us with a little spending money. My first instinct was to count up Alan’s take and compare it with my own. I still remember being anxious that I got my fair share.

That is the mindset of mortality. Comparison. Score-keeping. Competition. But it is not the mindset of heaven.

A Challenging Parable

In a parable that challenges our mortal mindset, Jesus tells of a householder who hired laborers for a penny per day (Matthew 20:1–16). Apparently the laborers were glad for the work and accepted the proffered wage as reasonable. The householder also hired laborers at the third, sixth, ninth, and eleventh hours with the understanding that he would treat them fairly. At the end of the day, when those who had worked only a few hours each received a penny, those who had worked all day hoped to receive more. When they got only a penny, they complained. The irony is they got exactly what they had contracted for. They had been treated fairly. Their discontent was aroused because others got just as much for fewer hours. They begrudged the short-timers their good fortune. So the householder asks: “Is it not lawful for me to do what I will with mine own? Is thine eye evil, because I am good?” (Matthew 20:15).

God seems to ask: “Would you feel richer if others got less? Why would you begrudge someone else his good fortune? Do you want to set limits on my goodness? Are you glad for the grace that saves you but resent the grace that rescues others?” The Prophet Joseph observed that: “It is the constitutional disposition of mankind to set up stakes and set bounds to the works and ways of the Almighty” (Smith, 1938, p. 320).

Jesus concludes the parable with this observation :“So the last shall be first, and the first last: for many be called, but few chosen” (Matthew 20:16).

Are We Truly Followers of Christ?

Could Jesus be saying that the final test for those who have labored many years in the kingdom is the grace they offer those who are latecomers? Could He be challenging us to be glad when a soul repents? Is it possible that the final test for entrance into His kingdom is that we are gracious in the same spirit He shows? Is it possible that many who were first in the earthly kingdom will fail this heavenly test of jealousy? Could the ultimate test of our discipleship be a recognition that all of us are paid far more than we deserve and, therefore, our deserving is insignificant in any formulation of pay?

Elder Holland has powerfully challenged us to overcome our shrewish envy in his discussion of a parable of two brothers, one of whom we call the prodigal: “Who is it that whispers so subtly in our ear that a gift given to another somehow diminishes the blessings we have received? Who makes us feel that if God is smiling on another, then He surely must somehow be frowning on us? You and I both know who does this—it is the father of all lies. It is Lucifer, our common enemy, whose cry down through the corridors of time is always and to everyone, ‘Give me thine honor.’ How can we overcome such a tendency so common in almost everyone? For one thing, we can do as these two sons did and start making our way back to the Father. We should do so with as much haste and humility as we can summon. Along the way we can count our many blessings and we can applaud the accomplishments of others. Best of all, we can serve others, the finest exercise for the heart ever prescribed. But finally these will not be enough. . . . So we pray that They will help us, that They will ‘come out’ to meet and embrace us and bring us into the feast They have prepared” (Jeffrey R. Holland, “The Other Prodigal,” Ensign, May 2002, 62).

Returning Good for Evil

A colleague and I recently worked on a joint project. When the project did not go in the direction she preferred, she became upset. I tried to find a mutually agreeable solution. She balked. She tried to have the project shut down. Our leader concluded that there was still merit in the project. It seemed that I was vindicated.

And there is the test. Will I smugly laugh at her misfortune? Will I gloat over my victory? Will I arm myself for future battles? Will I talk of her with colleagues to undermine her power base? If there is a turn of events, and my pet approach loses favor, will I be bitter? If I do any of these things, I am demonstrating clearly that the doctrine of the Atonement has not reached my heart. If I act in any of those ways, I may spout the words, but I do not live the redemptive doctrinal truth of the gospel.

In contrast to small-minded responses, Jesus set the terms for true discipleship. “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” (Matthew 5:44).
I have heard it said that Satan does not have the gift of discernment. He knows our individual weaknesses because he hears us talking about each other’s weaknesses endlessly. We open the door for Satan’s work when we speak ill of anyone.
Living with Grace

When that colleague and I work together again, am I prepared to bless her with graciousness and heartfelt kindness? Am I willing to yearn for her good fortune? The task is daunting. Having been personally hurt and offended, I confess that I cannot do as I am commanded. “With men this is impossible; but with God all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26). I can only act as I should if I am filled with Him and His goodness.
It is not enough to merely love the loveable. “For if ye love them which love you, what reward have ye? do not even the publicans the same? And if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye more [than others]? do not even the publicans so?” (Matthew 5:46–47).

God has a higher standard. Much higher! “Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect” (Matthew 5:48).

Or as Luke expressed the goal: “Be ye therefore merciful, as your Father also is merciful” (Luke 6:36).

A More Perfect Way

Fortunately God is a Heavenly Father rather than a Heavenly Accountant. The more we become like Him, the more we will wish well to all people, even those who are different from us or who persecute us.

It is easy to see that a culture filled with competition, trophies, hierarchies, and double elimination tournaments may not help us think the way God does. That does not suggest that competition should be done away. But the more we understand the gospel, the more likely we are to be glad for excellence on all teams. We appreciate good ideas from all political parties. We value good ideas even when they undermine our preconceptions. We are genuinely glad for any goodness regardless of the source. We must be gracious just as God is. Exactly as He is. For we are to be filled with Him.

Richard L. Evans described God’s exemplary attitude. “Our Father in heaven is not an umpire who is trying to count us out. He is not a competitor who is trying to outsmart us. He is not a prosecutor who is trying to convict us. He is a Loving Father who wants our happiness and eternal progress and everlasting opportunity and glorious accomplishment, and who will help us all he can if we will but give him, in our lives, the opportunity to do so with obedience and humility and faith and patience” (Conference Report, October 1956, p.101).

I confess that I am surprised to find myself still so unskilled at so central a task so late in life. I am a 55-year-old toddler. Yet I know to what source I must look. I know that this vital lesson can still be learned if I let Him teach me.

May we all seek the mind of Christ (See I Cor. 2:16) that we may see each other—even the annoying—with love.

A bright, sensitive young man told me about his recent battle with his brother. Harsh words and threats were traded. The young man told me, “If he apologizes sincerely, I will forgive him. But I rather like being estranged. It is nice not to have him around.” It seems that all of us enjoy some occasional recreational resentment. We love to nurture our grudges and culture our complaints.

Wherefore, I say unto you, that ye ought to forgive one another; for he that forgiveth not his brother his trespasses standeth condemned before the Lord; for there remaineth in him the greater sin” (D&C 64:9).

Sometimes we’re tempted to accuse God of hyperbole. He couldn’t possibly mean that, if someone commits a grievous sin against us—perhaps murder, rape, theft—that we will be guilty of a still greater sin if we do not fully forgive that person. Maybe He is exaggerating for effect.

There is another possibility. Maybe unforgivingness is a presumption of epic proportions. Maybe the failure to forgive suggests that we think we should be able to regulate the flow of His grace. “No one should be redeemed unless we approve.”

Perhaps God is telling us in that remarkable scripture that we do not have veto power on His acts of redemption. When we presume to declare someone undeserving, we show our pettiness and ingratitude. We clearly do not understand our own dependence on His grace.

Thus, when brilliant Jesus teaches about a debtor who was forgiven a vast debt (estimated to be billions of dollars in today’s money) who would not forgive a puny debt (estimated to be pocket change), the ungracious man incurred divine wrath.

And his lord was wroth, and delivered him to the tormentors, till he should pay all that was due unto him. So likewise shall my heavenly Father do also unto you, if ye from your hearts forgive not every one his brother their trespasses (Matthew 18:34–35).

Lately the Lord has blessed me with opportunities to view the significance of forgiveness. In one case, a young couple found themselves divided, resentful, and at the brink of divorce. The young man revealed that his attitude toward his bride had been severely damaged when she revealed a past indiscretion. He punished her for months with sullenness, harshness, and absence. To his eternal credit, he finally recognized the error of his ways. He admitted, “I need to fill myself with the gospel to change my attitude and behavior.” It was marvelous to see the transformation as he turned toward the light.

In another case, my sweet companion was asking me about making copies of the tape of our daughter’s mission report. Not having taken time to understand her request, I misunderstood her need. We swapped misunderstandings until I reacted impatiently. It is amazing to me that I can so quickly become impatient with the kindest, most considerate person I have ever known. I am sorry, Nancy.

We all have just cause for resenting each other. In a telestial world, we are all offenders. Whether we do or don’t resent the offenders around us is the measure of our conversion. Loving the undeserving is the evidence of our change of heart.

When our view of life is limited to our own puny needs and peevish complaints, we begrudge others any good fortune or heavenly grace. But when we understand the great gift that has been given us, the gift of His loving sacrifice, we are filled with love and patience for the entire human race. Judgment is transformed into charity.

It is popular for us to soften the boundaries of the commandment “Judge not, that ye be not judged” (Matthew 7:1; 3 Nephi 14:1) by invoking the seemingly more liberal Joseph Smith translation “Judge not unrighteously, that ye be not judged; but judge righteous judgment” (JST Matthew 7:2). Apparently we are free to judge if we do it righteously. And so humans from the beginning of time have smote one another with the commandments: “He is a sinner.” “She falls short.” “They are no good.” (What an irony that we smite each other with the commandments that God designed to bless us!)

The trouble with the broadening interpretation of the judging commandment is that it does not account for several other scriptures, including these two:

Behold what the scripture says–man shall not smite, neither shall he judge; for judgment is mine, saith the Lord, and vengeance is mine also, and I will repay (Mormon 8:20).

Leave judgment alone with me, for it is mine and I will repay (D&C 82:23).

How does one reconcile the different counsel on judging? There is actually no discrepancy between the seemingly more restrictive (“Do not judge”) and the more liberal commandments (“Judge only righteously”) if we understand them rightly. None of us is righteous (see Romans 3:10). Our telestial minds are not capable of righteous judgment.

But when we are filled with He who is truly righteous, we can see rightly. When our only judgment of others is His assessment of them, then we “pass righteous judgment.” In the final analysis, only One who knows everything and loves perfectly has the right to judge.

It is supremely appropriate that we are judged on the same principle that we judge. “For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again” (Matthew 7:2).

If we see others through the lens of His love and compassion, we will be seen in that same way. If we apply our shriveled, shrewish judgments to others, we will be judged in that way. If the grace and goodness of Christ is not our standard as we measure, it will not be the standard when we are measured.

It is not hard to tell when we are imposing our own miserable sentences on one another and when we see with the “mind of Christ”(I Corinthians 2:16). The indicator Joseph Smith gave us is compassion: “The nearer we get to our heavenly Father, the more we are disposed to look with compassion on perishing souls; we feel that we want to take them upon our shoulders, and cast their sins behind our backs.” (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, p.241).

There is one scene in literature that still haunts my weak efforts at charity—the bishop’s candlesticks from Les Miserables, by Victor Hugo. The kindly Catholic bishop of Digne gives shelter to an ex-convict, Jean Valjean, much to the dismay of his housekeeper and sister. He feeds and gives a bed to the brooding man. In the dark of the night, the troubled Valjean rises, makes his way to the silver, fills his bag, and departs. On the morrow, gendarmes drag Valjean and the silver back to the bishop.

The bishop has every reason to be indignant that his kindness has been repaid with thievery. His word would send the man back to prison. He might have thought it gracious to recover his silver, deliver a lecture, and send the man on his way. But he holds a higher standard.

He greets the sullen thief: “Ah, there you are! I am glad to see you. But I gave you the candlesticks also, which are silver like the rest, and would bring two hundred francs. Why did you not take them along with your plates?”

Valjean was thunderstruck. He had only known a world of cruel legalism. He could not comprehend a man who heaped goodness on his tortured and undeserving head. That act of grace transformed Jean Valjean’s life and rippled through the balance of his years.

If we think of God’s commandments as a ruler, they are intended to chart our course back to Him. They were never intended to whack fellow travelers on the head. In the press of daily commerce, how often do we rap heads with the ruler of our legal judgments when we could change history by following the perfect example of one who taught forgiveness? He invites us to the highest standard.

“Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy. 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” (Matthew 5:43–4).

God invites us to join Him in the sweet process of blessing His children.

It is hard to imagine Jesus nagging the apostles: “You guys need to get out there and spread the word. My ministry is half over and we haven’t reached our goals. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you!”

Yet when we want to “inspire” better performance in any church or family endeavor, we commonly scold, chide, admonish, chasten, and lecture. It is only natural. “Natural.” It is good to remember that our instinctive or natural actions make us enemies to God (Mosiah 3:19).

Maybe we chide and scold because such methods seem to work, at least in the short run. But the Lord suggests that they are not effective. And they are not right. He instructs us to use persuasion, gentleness, kindness, and love (D&C 121:34–42).

I have a dear friend named Myke. Some years ago he was a district scout leader. Part of his responsibilities included periodic meetings with troop leaders. Because of his determination to do his duty with honor, he did several things to be effective. He would send reminders to those who should attend. He was always well prepared to provide good material at the meetings. When someone did not come to the meetings, Myke would organize sets of materials from the meeting and visit the home of each of those people and share the materials.

One of Myke’s fellow scouters in district leadership chided him: “You’re only teaching them to be irresponsible when you take the materials to their homes. They’ll never come to your meetings if you keep taking things to them.” Myke rose to the challenge. He invited his colleague to make a test: “You use every means you know to get leaders to your meetings. I will continue to use the method I use. Let’s see who has better attendance.” Over a period of months each used his method. Would it surprise you to know that Myke’s attendance improved over time while his co-worker’s meeting attendance declined?

There is a “natural” interpretation to Myke’s delivery to non-attenders: “Well, if you don’t come, I’ll run everything over to your house. Don’t worry if you don’t want to come.” But the non-attenders seemed to get a different message: “When you don’t come, you are missed. Your work is important enough and the materials I prepared are important enough that I will bring them to you.” I think Myke was also saying, “I will do everything I can to support you in your vital work.” Such messages translate into better performance.

Jesus taught the same kind of leadership when he counseled us to “leave the ninety and nine, and goeth into the mountains, and seeketh that which is gone astray” (Matthew 18:12). Was Jesus worried that the ninety and nine would wander off, hoping for the extra attention that was given strays? Apparently not. Maybe Jesus hoped the ninety and nine would follow His example and become rescuers of lost sheep. Maybe scoutmasters who have been supported reach out to scouts who are lost.

Rather than scold the straying sheep, Jesus carried it upon his shoulders. Yet think of the many times that we scold one another. “Brethren, the month is half over; you need to do your home teaching.” “We now have a temple in our area and we aren’t using it as we should.” “SHHH! Be reverent!” We do a lot of scolding.

I know a bishop who had a monthly interview with the ward elder’s quorum president. One of the regular items of business in their meetings was to review home teaching. If there were any brethren who had not regularly contacted all their families, the quorum president would make a note and arrange to visit with them. If they did not improve their home teaching within the next month or two, the bishop would make individual appointments with the home teachers. The bishop and home teacher would begin their meeting with prayer and then the bishop would say: “As a priesthood home teacher, you are the vital link between God’s church and some of His precious children. Some of those children are not getting visited; what can we do to support your home teaching?” If changes needed to be made in companionships or assigned families, they were made. But that was rare. Usually the erring home teacher simply needed to be reminded how important his work was. He needed to be invited to be a partner with God.

Inviting is better than scolding. Inviting is what God does. “His hand is stretched out still” is the repeated message of scripture. Our bad deeds may bring on calamity that can humble us. Yet He always invites us to return to His Way of Life:

“Every thing which inviteth and enticeth to do good, and to love God, and to serve him, is inspired of God” (Moroni 7:13).

Scolding, especially in groups, poisons the spirit of the gathering. It does not motivate spiritual behavior and it may engender resentment. For example, a high councilman assigned to talk about home teaching might use his sacrament meeting time to review the ward’s dreary statistics, threaten eternal consequences for slackers, and urge reformation.

There is a better way. Recently I heard a man tell about his home teaching. He said that he was teaching a brother who used to be a bishop but has not been to church for years and does not live the Word of Wisdom. The man reported about his home teaching: “I don’t know how it happens. We visit the man. We talk about his projects. We share our message. We have not gotten him to come to church. I don’t know if we’ve done him a bit of good. But we sure do love him! God has given us a love for that man that I cannot comprehend. I look forward to every visit.” Such a message could make a great talk on home teaching. It is more effective than the customary scolding.

The first principle of leadership is love. “We love him, because he first loved us” (1 John 4:19). During His mortal ministry, many people responded to Jesus because He reached out to the blind, He touched the leper, He wiped away tears from the sorrowing, and He saw beyond sin in the confused. If we want to motivate better performance, we must first love. Love for God, His work and His children, is both contagious and energizing.

A while back our stake president made an appointment with Nancy and me. He invited me into the office first and asked if I would support Nancy as the new stake relief society president. I didn’t know whether to groan or to laugh. Nancy does not like to be on stage. She does not like to boss people around. She does not like to make lots of decisions. She simply wants to help people in need. That is why she is such a great leader! She does not care for any of the trappings of leadership. She only wants to love and serve.

Effective leadership is motivated by love for those served and for the work. Meaningful home and visiting teaching is energized by the same love. Inspiring classroom teaching is animated by love for students, for God, and for His sacred messages.

Of course our most significant leadership roles are within the family. An acquaintance at work once asked me how to deal with her 4-year-old having scratched a neighbor child. I asked what she had already done. She said she had scratched her daughter and isolated her to her room for three days. I still remember the mother’s words: “She must learn that it is not acceptable to scratch.” I am confident that the 4-year-old learned many things in that encounter. I doubt that she learned not to scratch.

My personal reaction to such behavior has been mellowed by my grandparental stage of life. I recommend that the mom comfort the injured neighbor child and then take the offending child to a quiet place. The mother could hold the child close as they rock together. She could soothe the child with gentle strokes. She could hum a favorite tune. She might even call on her deepest feelings to express love to the child. Would kindness after misbehavior convey to the child, “I just love it when you are a terrorist!” I don’t think so. I think they would convey, “I love you, Dear. I’m sure you’re very confused right now. I’m sure you feel bad about hurting your friend. You must not hurt people. I want to help you get to that place in your soul where the holiest impulses can be found. From that place will come all the right actions.”

That seems to be Jesus’ message to us in the story of the prodigal son. Though the son had been ungrateful, wasteful, and immoral, his model father responded to the son’s return with love: “when [the son] was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him” (Luke 15:20).

The second principle of leadership is love. So are the third and fourth. That is not to say that there is nothing else that matters. Somewhere around number 73, other principles show up: wisdom, stewardship, delegation, etc. But if we have not charity, the pure love that comes from Christ, we are nothing (see 1 Cor. 13:2, 2 Nephi 26:30, and Moroni 7:46.).

As Myke says, “Sheep herders scold and drive. Shepherds lead and love.”

It seems to me that great rejoicing in the Atonement is often evoked by great challenges in life. And Nephi’s Psalm in 2 Nephi 4 is a great case in point.

When we consider this chapter in perspective, we see that in verse 12 Lehi died. Think about what that would have meant to Nephi. Lehi was not only his father, but also the prophet leader. He was Nephi’s mentor and guide. What a keen loss this would have been for Nephi.

Lehi died and, as you might expect, Laman and Lemuel promptly got angry along with those who followed them.

Then Nephi’s thoughts turned to the record he had been keeping. I wonder if in some ways that was a burden to him as well. After all, it was his father who taught him in language and culture and now his father was gone. His father mentored and tutored him in keeping a sacred record and now he felt the pressure to try to keep the people together, to keep the record and to do the work of God.

Sometimes the Atonement becomes more meaningful when we get desperate.

In verse 15, Nephi said, “Upon these I write the things of my soul… For my soul delighteth in the scriptures.”  And then in verse 16, “My soul delighteth in the things of the Lord.” But even as he rejoiced, he observed, “Nevertheless, notwithstanding the great goodness of the Lord…” (v. 17).

There is something about knowing the greatness and goodness of God that makes us more aware, more mindful, more burdened by our limitations and humanness.  So he went on in verse 17, “Nevertheless, notwithstanding the great goodness of the Lord, in showing me his great and marvelous works, my heart exclaimeth: O wretched man that I am! Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh; my soul grieveth because of my iniquities. I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me. And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth…”

Nephi gave us no clues about those sins and probably we don’t need to know. We don’t know if he was burdened that sometimes he forgot to do his chores or make his bed in the morning. We don’t know if perhaps he failed to save his best energy for prayer. We don’t know whether he had a sensitive soul that became troubled by fairly small mistakes and failings when God had blessed him so abundantly. Or perhaps Nephi was more like most of us—someone who blundered and soiled his life time and time again. Was he burdened by anger, lust, selfishness and all the other common afflictions of mortality? We don’t know. And we don’t need to know because the principles that Nephi teaches us in this great psalm are the same if our sins are of the minor variety or the larger, more common variety.

So he confessed to us, “Despite the goodness of God, my heart sorroweth, my soul grieveth because of my iniquities.” But then there was a turning point: “Nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted” (v. 19). That word trust is going to turn out to be very important in this chapter.

“My God hath been my support; he hath led me through mine afflictions… he hath preserved me… He hath filled me with his love… He hath confounded mine enemies…” (vs. 20-22).

I don’t know why it took me so long to notice that the real focal point had changed from what was so wrong with Nephi to what was so right with God. That’s quite a transformation isn’t it? Nephi was no longer focused on his little known and, to him, abundant shortcomings. His focus turned to God who time and again, in spite of all his weaknesses, blessed him, looked after him, magnified him, and enlarged him.

I think Nephi’s message is: God is able to do His work even with flawed, fallen, imperfect people like us.

Let’s jump  to verse 26. “Oh then, if I have seen so great things…”

Have we seen such great things? Having seen great things, have we appreciated them?  Having witnessed God’s work in our lives and in the lives of those around us, have we been mindful of that work and grateful for it?

“O then, if I have seen so great things, if the Lord in his condescension unto the children of men hath visited men in so much mercy, why should my heart weep and my soul linger in the valley of sorrow… why should I yield to sin…? Why should I give way to temptations…? Why am I angry because of mine enemy?” (vs. 26-27)

These questions are not asked in the sense of, “If I have been given such great training, then why do I behave so badly?” These questions are really very different.  The real issue Nephi seemed burdened by was: “If the Lord has been so gracious, then why do I keep myself so vulnerable to sin? Why do I allow myself to be snared by evil?”

Then came the call from his soul which said, “Awake, my soul! No longer droop in sin. Rejoice, O my heart, and give place no more for the enemy  of my soul” (v. 28).  Notice the theme of “awake and rejoice”.  Be mindful of God and His goodness.  Be mindful of His readiness to help and bless us.  And then, having done that, rejoice.

“Rejoice, O my heart, and cry unto the Lord, and say: O Lord, I will praise thee forever; yea, my soul will rejoice in thee, my God, and the rock of my salvation” (v. 30).

Then came that plea for divine help because Nephi wanted very much to resist any incursion of sin into his life. “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” (v. 31)?

Make it so that sin is ugly to me and detestable and not the least bit attractive. Make it so that sin has no draw to me, but rather it is holiness that I crave.  “May the gates of hell be shut continually before me, because that my heart is broken and my spirit is contrite” (v. 32)! Isn’t that the recognition that all that we have and are is a blessing from God and due to His goodness?

“O Lord, wilt thou encircle me around in the robe of thy righteousness” (2 Nephi 4:33)!  In other words—my holiness ultimately is a sacred gift from Thee.

Let’s conclude with verse 34.  “O Lord, I have trusted in thee, and I will trust in thee forever. I will not put my trust in the arm of flesh; for I know that cursed is he that putteth his trust in the arm of flesh.  Yea, cursed is he that putteth his trust in man or maketh flesh his arm.”

So Nephi really launched into this psalm in earnest as he said, “Nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted.”  He concluded by saying five times: “trust”.  Trust God, not myself. Trust God, not any other human. It is God who must save us. And he ended by proclaiming, “He is the rock, the everlasting God”

May we follow the great example set by Nephi. May we trust in God and throw ourselves on the merits, mercy and grace of the Holy Messiah.

Lehi’s Life Summary

Hugh Nibley said that there is a single verse that best encapsulates what the Atonement is all about and gives us a visual imagery for the significance of the Atonement. That verse is 2 Nephi 1:15.

This particular message is delivered just as Lehi is about to die. He captures the essence of his ministry and his life experience in a single verse.

He says, “But behold, the Lord hath redeemed my soul from hell.”

I’m not sure of everything that Lehi had in mind there. My suspicion is that he may not only have been talking about the prospective hell that would be inevitable if not for the sacrifice of the Savior, but even for the hell of mortality. I think Lehi was keenly aware that life hurts us here on this earth and injures us fairly regularly. So when he says, “The Lord hath redeemed my soul from Hell”, he means the Lord redeems us not only from what lies ahead, but also from what lies behind. He rescues us from all of our past disappointments, injuries, failures and dashed hopes. He even takes away today’s pain.

Lehi continues, “I have beheld His glory”.

There is something magical about beholding His glory. When we have, it changes everything. Instead of feeling we are strangers in a strange land, we gain the understanding that we are pilgrims on a journey. While we are still far away, we are headed toward our heavenly home. So when Lehi says he has beheld His glory, he is saying, “Because I know God, I understand the meaning of life. I understand the journey. I understand me, because I understand God.”

“And I am encircled about eternally in the arms of His love.”

What amazing imagery: God reaches out and enfolds us in His arms of love! We are truly His. We are safe because we are His. Hope is possible because we are His. A joyous eternity is possible because we are His—and encircled about eternally in His arms of love.

Thus that single verse encapsulates not only Lehi’s life but the Great Plan of Happiness.

We have all experienced questions from others that left us feeling confused or humiliated. Often we are left wondering how to respond to cruelty and insensitivity. I recently read an article by a multiracial woman who had experienced several painful incidents of insensitivity. For example, an adult asked her when she was a child if she was black. As a young girl she felt embarrassed and small. She didn’t know how to reply.

Later in life, a fellow student asked her why she didn’t have big lips if she was black. She tried to formulate an answer even though convinced that the question did not merit one. To the woman’s credit, she has chosen to resist anger.

Peacemaking

We have all been hurt by insensitivity or thoughtlessness. Someone at church says something that misjudges us. A group gathers and we are left out. Relatives accuse us of faults and failings. Every one of us gets injured by life.

Sometimes we have lashed back. Sometimes we have sought opportunities to balance the scale. Sometimes we have suffered in sullen silence.

I want to suggest another way of responding to thoughtlessness. When someone has treated us insensitively, maybe we can open their minds and hearts to our world. At the very least we can offer them grace. We have a rich history filled with examples of this great work of character.

In 1857, at the age of 19, Joseph F. Smith was returning from the Sandwich Islands by way of the “Southern Route” from Los Angeles to Utah. The wagon train with which Joseph F. was traveling made camp, when some “toughs rode into the camp on horseback, cursing and swearing and threatening what they would do to the Mormons.”

Joseph F. was a little distance from the camp gathering wood for the fire, but he saw that the few members of his own party had cautiously gone in the brush down the creek, out of sight. When he saw that, . . . the thought came into his mind, “Shall I run from these fellows? Why should I fear them?” With that he marched up with his arm full of wood, to the campfire where one of the ruffians, still with his pistol in his hand, shouting and cursing about the Mormons, in a low voice said to Joseph F., “Are you a Mormon?”

And the answer came straight, “yes, siree; dyed in the wool; true blue, through and through.”

At that the ruffian grasped him by the hand and said: “Well, you are the [blankety-blank] pleasantest man I ever met! Shake young fellow, I am glad to see a man that stands up for his convictions.” (Teachings of the Presidents of the Church, Joseph F. Smith; p. 104).

Truly, his light shone in the darkness of hate and conflict.

Another familiar example:

One day the Prophet was visiting his parents’ home in Far West, when a group of armed militiamen came in and announced that they had come to kill him for a supposed crime. Lucy Mack Smith, the Prophet’s mother, described his gift for peacemaking:

“[Joseph] looked upon them with a very pleasant smile and, stepping up to them, gave each of them his hand in a manner which convinced them that he was neither a guilty criminal nor yet a cowering hypocrite. They stopped and stared as though a spectre had crossed their path.

“Joseph sat down and entered into conversation with them and explained to them the views and feelings of the people called Mormons and what their course had been, as also the treatment which they had met with from their enemies since the first outset of the Church. He told them that malice and detraction had pursued them ever since they entered Missouri, but they were a people who had never broken the laws to his knowledge. But if they had, they stood ready to be tried by the law.

“After this, he rose and said, ‘Mother, I believe I will go home. Emma will be expecting me.’ Two of the men sprang to their feet, saying, ‘You shall not go alone, for it is not safe. We will go with you and guard you.’ Joseph thanked them, and they went with him.

“The remainder of the officers stood by the door while these were absent, and I overheard the following conversation between them:

“First Officer: ‘Did you not feel strangely when Smith took you by the hand? I never felt so in my life.’

“Second Officer: ‘I felt as though I could not move. I would not harm one hair of that man’s head for the whole world.’

“Third Officer: ‘This is the last time you will ever catch me coming to kill Joe Smith or the Mormons either.’ …

“Those men who went with my son promised to go disband the militia under them and go home, and said that if he had any use for them, they would come back and follow him anywhere.” (Lucy Mack Smith, “The History of Lucy Smith, Mother of the Prophet,” 1844–45 manuscript, book 15, pp. 8–10, Church Archives, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Salt Lake City, Utah.

Generosity of Heart

Admittedly, most of us do not have the presence of mind or generosity of heart to respond to ugliness with graciousness. Yet we can develop this ability. We will become more useful to our Father as we do. Remember Jesus’ response to a lawyer determined to humiliate Him. Jesus delivered to his accuser one of the sweetest stories ever told: the Good Samaritan. He essentially invited the man to become a source of goodness rather than an agent for hurt.

I remember a tender woman in our ward who was often asked when she and her husband were going to have children. Those inquiring ward members did not realize that she was unable to have children, a fact which was deeply painful to her. She could react to their naïve inquiry by brooding. She could lash back. Or she might open the way for greater compassion and connection by saying: “My husband and I are not able to have children but we have resolved to love every child in our ward who comes within our reach.”

Conquering our Enemies

Maybe when we feel attacked, we can kindly invite the “enemy” into our experience. Instead of vilifying them because of the wounds they have inflicted, we can see them as someone who doesn’t understand our lives and struggles.

I believe that people do what they do for reasons that make sense to them. We should not confuse normal human clumsiness with maliciousness. The fact that we feel hurt does not mean that they intended to hurt us.

If someone commented on my race, I might ask if I could tell them about some of my courageous ancestors who came to this country from a distant land and faced terrible odds. If they remarked about my lips or some other physical feature, I might ask if I could share a story about a great-grandparent whom I resemble. We can turn awkwardness—and even hostility—into connection and understanding when our hearts are right.

Sometimes the insensitivity of others will catch us off guard. At times it may overwhelm our defenses. And those are the ideal times to call on Jesus, the ultimate source of all grace.

Instead of becoming enemies of our enemies, we become a friend of God. We do not allow our behavior or thoughts to be determined by the behavior of others. We turn to God in all things. In the face of insensitivity we offer grace and become blessed peacemakers.

Thanks to Barbara Keil and Annmarie Worthington for their insightful contributions to this article.

You may be interested in Brother Goddard’s books such as Soft-Spoken Parenting, Drawing Heaven into Your Marriage, and Between Parent and Child. For more information about his books and programs, visit www.DrWally.org