This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This is the 455th week, and we’re covering the Saturday morning session of the October 2006 General Conference.
When I read Elder David S. Baxter’s talk, Faith, Service, Constancy, I thought I had found the one talk that I would write about from this session. In fact, I was even tempted to skip reading the last three talks of this session (there were eight!) because of how busy I always am. But so far I’ve never done that, and I didn’t want to start now. I’m very glad I didn’t, because Elder M. Russell Ballard’s talk O Be Wise ended up being one of my all-time favorites from the entire General Conference Odyssey so far.
I’ll start with Elder Baxter’s talk, in which he shared “just three gospel fundamentals learned along the way”, since he and his family joined the church 39 years before the talk. The third fundamental he shared was this: “discipleship does not guarantee freedom from the storms of life.”
This principle–that even sincere and righteous obedience doesn’t exempt you from difficulties–is one of the principles I’m most passionate about. Here, you can see a blog post from a decade ago: We Are Made To Suffer.
This might sound grim or pessimistic or negative. I don’t think that it is. I think the difficulty is just inseparable from many of the best things in life. Here’s a quote (from that blog post) that originally came from a fantasy author I admire:
Growing up is all about getting hurt. And then getting over it. You hurt. You recover. You move on. Odds are pretty good you’re just going to get hurt again. But each time, you learn something. Each time, you come out of it a little stronger, and at some point you realize that there are more flavors of pain than coffee. There’s the little empty pain of leaving something behind–graduating, taking the next step forward, walking out of something familiar and safe into the unknown. There’s the big, whirling pain of life upending all of your plans, and expectations. There’s the sharp little pains of failure, and the more obscure aches of successes that didn’t give you what you thought they would. There are the vicious, stabbing pains of hopes being torn up. The sweet little pains of finding others, giving them your love, and taking joy in their life as they grow and learn. There’s the steady pain of empathy that you shrug off so you can stand beside a wounded friend and help them bury their burdens.
And if you’re very, very lucky, there are a very few blazing hot little pains you feel when you realize that you are standing in a movement of utter perfection, an instant of triumph, or happiness, or mirth which at the same time cannot possibly last–and yet will remain with you for life.
Pain is a part of life. Sometimes it’s a big part, and sometimes it isn’t, but either way, it’s a part of the big puzzle, the deep music, the great game. Pain does two things: It teaches you, tells you that you’re alive. Then it passes away and leaves you changed. It leaves you wiser, sometimes. Sometimes it leaves you stronger. Either way, pain leaves its mark, and everything important that will ever happen to you in life is going to involve it in one degree or another. (Jim Butcher, in White Night)
Here is what Elder Baxter had to say about the difficulty that awaits even the most devoted disciples:
“Even as we are wending our way carefully and faithfully along the strait and narrow path, we encounter obstacle and challenge. There are days, perhaps even months and years, when life is just hard. We experience our fair share of adversity, heartache, loneliness, pain, grief—sometimes, it seems, more than our fair share.
What to do when adversity strikes? There is only one thing to do. Stand steady and see it through. Stay steadfast, constant, and true. The real tragedy in the whirlwinds of life comes only when we allow them to blow us off our true course.
At these moments of crisis and challenge, some choose to abandon faith just at the time when it most needs to be embraced. Prayer is ignored at the very hour when it needs to be intensified. Virtue is carelessly tossed aside when it needs to be cherished. God is forsaken in the all-too-human yet mistaken fear that He has forsaken us.
The truth is that our only safety, our only security, our only hope is to hold fast to that which is good. As the mists of darkness gather around us, we are only lost if we choose to let go of the iron rod, which is the word of God.
And then he pointed out something absolutely basic that I’d never realized before: the whole point of the parable of the wise and the foolish man is that the flood hits them both. The Gospel isn’t there to exempt you from the rain, the storm, and the flood. It’s there to help you survive them.
I loved this talk so much I thought nothing could top it, but then I got to Elder Ballard’s talk. As I write this (Sunday night) I’m about to teach two of my favorite lessons from Captain Moroni. The first is how, when Alma the Younger told him where the Lamanite army was going, Captain Moroni listened and took his army to fight them but also left behind some guards. The second is how Captain Moroni, in his angry epistle to Pahoran, cites the Lord telling him (Moroni) to go after the corrupt leaders of the Nephites. Except there aren’t any, not really (rebellious and corrupt aren’t the same thing), and certainly not Pahoran.
Why do I like these stories so much? Because they underscore that you can’t take your brain out of the equation ever. Captain Moroni believed Alma the Younger’s prophecy about the location of the Lamanite army, but he also kept his mind open to the possibility that–even if the prophecy were largely true–there might be some smaller force he still had to deal with. He knew that getting revelation isn’t an excuse to stop thinking. And Captain Moroni got revelation about Pahoran that, while not exactly wrong, was certainly skewed by his assumptions. Both these stories–for good and for ill–show that miracles and revelation don’t preempt ordinary responsibilities.
That kind of “yeah, God gave us a revelation, but let’s not forget to do our jobs” mentality is one of my favorite things about the Restored Gospel. It’s this kind of crazy combination of literal miracles with utter mundane considerations. And we need more of that, as a people, so that we can combine deep faith in the miraculous with everyday common sense. So that we can be wise.
So here are 5 of the principles Elder Ballard shared that I absolutely loved (all of these are exact quotes, but I’ve cut out a lot for length):
- Focus on people and principles–not on programs.
Programs are tools. Their management and staffing must not take priority over the needs of the people they are designed to bless and to serve. - Be innovative.
The instruction to magnify our callings is not a command to embellish and complicate them. To innovate does not necessarily mean to expand; very often it means to simplify…Because the eternal principle of agency gives us the freedom to choose and think for ourselves, we should become increasingly able to solve problems. - Divide the work and delegate responsibility
Allow others to progress and grow, even if it means sometimes getting less-than-perfect results on the reports. - Eliminate guilt
Guilt is not a proper motivational technique for leaders and teachers of the gospel of Jesus Christ. We must always motivate through love and sincere appreciation, not by creating guilt. - We need to thoughtfully allocate our resources of time, income, and energy.
I would like to let you in on a little secret. Some of you have already learned it. If you haven’t, it’s time you knew. No matter what your family needs are or your responsibilities in the Church, there is no such thing as “done.” There will always be more we can do. There is always another family matter that needs attention, another lesson to prepare, another interview to conduct, another meeting to attend. We just need to be wise in protecting our health and in following the counsel that President Hinckley has given often to just do the best that we can.
The key, it seems to me, is to know and understand your own capabilities and limitations and then to pace yourself, allocating and prioritizing your time, your attention, and your resources to wisely help others, including your family, in their quest for eternal life.
This talk–and I encourage everyone to go read it–is one of the realest talks I’ve ever heard in General Conference. Maybe the realest. I love it, and I really hope it gets spread far and wide because I think there are aspects of it that, culturally, we Latter-day Saints still have not really picked up on.
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