Grace and Mental Health

I believe that perfectionism truly is a mental illness. It is faulty thinking, which leads to faulty believing. Can one’s religious upbringing contribute to perfectionism?  How can perfectionistic thinking affect my belief in grace? A recent study at BYU sheds some light on the subject.

The religious scholars—who conducted the study at BYU—found that religious young adults experience better or poorer mental health as it connects to their belief in grace or in legalism. They surveyed 566 young adults at BYU (most of whom are members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) and found that when these young adults believe more in grace and less in legalism, they experience less anxiety, depression, shame, religious guilt, and perfectionism. They also found the opposite: When young adults have a more legalistic view of God, they experience poorer mental health “because it interrupts [their] ability to experience grace.” 

It may be detrimental to young adults’ mental health if their belief in grace is more founded upon individual good works (or legalism) than on grace they receive from God. 

Grace is a religious belief held by those of many faiths: Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, and others. For many different religions, grace is a benevolent or divine influence acting upon individuals to give “spiritual enrichment or purity, to inspire virtue, or to give strength to endure trial and resist temptation.” Christians specifically believe grace is a direct gift from God given through Jesus Christ that is “bestowed freely and without regard to merit … which manifests in the giving of blessings and granting of salvation.”

The opposite of grace may be viewed as legalism. Legalism is a “strict, literal, or excessive conformity to the law or to a religious or moral code.” When someone believes in legalism, they may place their good works above the grace that is provided by God or divine influence. While many religious faiths require good works and grace for salvation, religions often have their own interpretations of this principle. 

Regarding grace, Elder M. Russell Ballard taught:
No matter how hard we work, no matter how much we obey, no matter how many good things we do in this life, it would not be enough were it not for Jesus Christ and His loving grace. On our own we cannot earn the kingdom of God, no matter what we do. Unfortunately, there are some within the Church who have become so preoccupied with performing good works that they forget that those works—as good as they may be—are hollow unless they are accompanied by a complete dependence on Christ.

Elder Ballard is speaking directly to me. I definitely have put more emphasis on obedience to rules and laws than on grace. I have sought to earn my way to heaven through a Pharisaic approach. 

I’ve recently tried to take a more balanced view. Grace is offered to me freely. I don’t need to earn it. It is a gift. Elder Dieter F Uchtdorf taught:
As we walk the path of discipleship, [God’s grace] refines us, it improves us, it helps us to become more like Him, and it leads us back to His presence. The Spirit of the Lord our God brings about such a mighty change in us, that we have no more disposition to do evil, but to do good continually. Therefore, our obedience to God’s commandments comes as a natural outgrowth of our endless love and gratitude for the goodness of God. This form of genuine love and gratitude will miraculously merge our works with God’s grace.

Moroni admonishes us: Yea, come unto Christ, and be perfected in him … that by his grace ye may be perfect in Christ.

To be continued . . . with Part 63

That’s Not Fair!

I don’t know if this is a tendency of perfectionism or not.  But I have always had an acute sense of justice.  When I saw unfairness happen, my reaction was, “That’s not right!  That’s not fair!”  When I’ve expressed that to others, they are usually like: “You’re right, life’s nor fair.  Just buck up and deal with it.” 

So when I was watching a BYU-Idaho Devotional earlier this week, I heard some doctrine that resonated with me.  Elder Dale G. Renlund was speaking.  Here’s the part of his address that caught my attention and that I want to share: 

Unfairness is all around us and it is troubling. If we’re not careful, the appearance of unfairness may cause us to reject the favorable along with the unfavorable. Or to use an idiomatic expression, “to throw the baby out with the bathwater.” Perceived unfairness deals us a major body blow. 

Let me present several scriptural “baby/bathwater” scenarios.  

Was it fair that Abraham’s first child, Ishmael, did not receive the Abrahamic covenant, but that Isaac did? If it was unfair, did that unfairness invalidate the Abrahamic covenant that God made with Abraham and renewed with Isaac?  

Was it fair that only the descendants of Levi, the son of Jacob, held the priesthood, and others who were equally worthy (or perhaps even more worthy) did not? Does that unfairness change the reality of the priesthood that was conferred upon the Levites? 

Was it fair that Jesus Christ came to the House of Israel, and not to the Gentiles? Does that unfairness negate His divine Sonship and His infinite atonement? 

Despite the apparent unfairness, the Abrahamic Covenant is valid. The authority of the priesthood is real.  And Christ’s atoning sacrifice is authentic. 

The base isolator for unfairness is to develop faith in Jesus Christ and His atonement and understand how His atonement is applied to us. Faith and understanding help us recognize that all are alike unto Heavenly  Father and the Savior and that They love all of Heavenly Father’s children. And that They desire that all return to their heavenly home. 

Additionally, Jesus Christ understands perfectly what it is like to suffer innocently because of the world’s inherent unfairness or the inappropriate application of someone else’s agency, evilly intended, or not. We cannot teach Jesus Christ anything He doesn’t already know about unfairness. He was treated the most unfairly of any of Heavenly Father’s children. But He can teach us how to deal with it. 

This constantly reminds us that the Savior loves to restore what you cannot restore, He loves to heal wounds you cannot heal, He loves to fix what has been irreparably broken. He compensates for any unfairness inflicted on you, and He loves to permanently mend even shattered hearts. 

Remembering the goodness of God makes something remarkable happen. At a future day, the promise is that “God shall wipe away all their tears . . . and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away (Revelation 21:4).” 

C.S. Lewis wrote, in the foreword to his book, “The Great Divorce,” “[Mortals] say of some temporal suffering, ‘No future bliss can make up for it,’ not knowing that Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even that agony into a glory. The good man’s past begins to change so that his forgiven sins and remembered sorrows take on the quality of Heaven. The Blessed will say ‘We have never lived anywhere except Heaven.’”

Let me pose three questions. 

First, does the fact that life is unfair to you or to others alter the reality of a kind, loving Heavenly Father, a living Christ, and the truthfulness of the First Vision and the restoration of the Savior’s gospel? 

Second, do the subsequent revelations through Joseph Smith and his successors and the promise of eventual eternal fairness help you cope with the unfairness of this fallen world? 

The third question, what personal habits can you develop that will help you develop and maintain strong faith in Jesus Christ and His atonement and His ultimate fairness? 

Our faith in Jesus Christ will allow us to remain standing and carry on despite the unfairness of life. However, you and I want to know how. How is God going to do that? To my knowledge, God hasn’t revealed how to his prophets, seers, and revelators. What I do know is that for us to demand to know how before we trust in Him and develop faith in His promises is misguided, and ignores what God told Isaiah about Himself: “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts (Isaiah 55:8-9).” Let’s hold our questions for later and work on developing faith.

I know that I basically just copied and pasted this devotional talk for my blog post, but I loved this message.  And I love his reasoning.  Just because something is not fair, doesn’t mean it is not good and true.  And it increases my faith in the Savior to know that He will compensate for all the injustices of life.  All will be made right, eventually.  

To be continued . . . with Part 62

Let not your heart be . . . afraid

Jesus Christ taught his disciples:  Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. (John 14:27)  Of the last line of this scripture, Elder Jeffrey R. Holland said:  I submit to you that may be one of the Savior’s commandments that is, even in the hearts of otherwise faithful Latter-day Saints, almost universally disobeyed.

The Lord doesn’t want us to let our hearts be troubled or afraid.  For a perfectionist, that’s easier said than done.  Fear is at the core of our struggle.  Fear of not being worthy of love or acceptance.  

Elder David A. Bednar taught:
As we consider so many of the things that are occurring all around us today, we could perhaps find ample reasons to be afraid, to hesitate, and to wonder if things in our lives can indeed turn out the way we have long hoped they would turn out.

To not take counsel from our fears simply means that we do not permit fear and uncertainty to determine our course in life, to affect negatively our attitudes and behavior, to influence improperly our important decisions, or to divert or distract us from all in this world that is virtuous, lovely, or of good report. 

To not take counsel from our fears means that faith in the Lord Jesus Christ overrules our fears and that we press forward with a steadfastness in Him. 

To not take counsel from our fears means that we trust in God’s guidance, assurance, and timing in our lives. 

I promise each of us can and will be blessed with direction, protection, and lasting joy as we learn to not take counsel from our fears. As we exercise faith in Christ and trust in His promises, we can walk into the dark with the absolute assurance that our pathway will be illuminated at least far enough to take the next step and then the next step and the next step.

Fear is one of the enemy’s greatest weapons.  And he’s wielding it with a vengeance right now in the world.  

When the Savior says, “my peace I give unto you,” he means it.  It’s a gift. You don’t need to earn it.  You just need to receive it.  And that’s a topic for another time.  

To be continued . . . with Part 61 

Losing Control

One of my perfectionistic tendencies is the need to be in control.  If I can just be very organized and control everything, then my life becomes more predictable and secure.  The problem with this kind of thinking is that life is messy. If I expect things to be smooth and manageable, I’ll be disappointed.  But that doesn’t stop me from the inclination to be a control freak.  

I’m currently studying the book, Get Your Life Back by John Eldredge.  Chapter 2 has an intriguing title: Benevolent Detachment.  Here’s an excerpt from that chapter: 

To make room for God to fill the vessel of our soul, we have to begin moving out some of the unnecessary clutter that continually accumulates there like the junk drawer in your kitchen. Everybody has a junk drawer, that black hole for car keys, pens, paper clips, gum, all the small flotsam and jetsam that accumulates over time. Our souls accumulate stuff, too, pulling it in like a magnet. And so Augustine said we must empty ourselves of all that fills us, so that we may be filled with what we are empty of.  Over time I’ve found no better practice to help clear out my cluttered soul than the practice of benevolent detachment. The ability to let it go, walk away—not so much physically but emotionally, soulfully.

Allow me to explain. We are aiming for release, turning into the hands of God whatever is burdening us and leaving it there. It’s so easy to get caught up in the drama in unhealthy ways, and then we are unable to see clearly, set boundaries, respond freely. When this happens in relationships, psychologists call it enmeshment.

Mature adults have learned how to create healthy distance between themselves and the thing they have become entangled with. Thus the word “detachment.” It means getting untangled, stepping out of the quagmire; it means peeling apart the velcro by which this person, relationship, crisis, or global issue has attached itself to you. Or you to it. Detachment means getting some healthy distance. Social media overloads our empathy. So I use the word “benevolent” in referring to this necessary kind of detachment because we’re not talking about cynicism or resignation. Benevolent means kindness. It means something done in love.

Jesus invites us into a way of living where we are genuinely comfortable turning things over to him: Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly. (Matthew 11:28–30 The Message) [Art by Yongsung Kim]

Benevolent detachment takes practice. The One-Minute Pause is a good place to start. “I give everyone and everything to You, God. I give everyone and everything to You.” As you do this, pay attention—your soul will tell you whether or not you’re releasing. If the moment after you pray you find yourself mulling over the very thing you just released, you haven’t released it. Go back and repeat the process until it feels that you have. Begin there. 

Control results in loss of connection.  Control is supplementing safety. I have to be “in control” because things in my life are “out of control,” they are vulnerable and unknown.  Letting go is scary, uncomfortable. It requires trust and faith.  

I’m finding that when I give “everyone and everything” to God, I’m able to relinquish the angst.  I still care about those people and things, but in a less-worried way. When I place them in God’s hands and trust Him, I can channel my emotional energy in healthier directions.  And when I’m a healthier person, I show up for others in a healthier way—a more benevolent way.  

To be continued . . . with Part 60 

The Spacesuit

I can relate to this concept of “the spacesuit,” which a friend of mine shared.  It helps me to view my own emotions and frustrations of life from a new perspective.

When we come into this world as infants, we are helpless and totally dependent on others for our survival, not only physically for food and sustenance, but also emotionally for emotional needs that are a bit less tangible than the physical needs we have.  As children, we have no way of understanding what our needs are, and therefore, no way of clearly communicating them to others when they’re not being met.  

So we need our attachment figures—other people—to be able to attune and sense our needs in order to meet them. This is like that sense that the parent might develop of attuning to different types of cries their child makes that indicate different needs: one cry for food, one cry to just be held.  Unfortunately, that attunement and meeting of the child’s emotional needs doesn’t always happen. This can occur for a variety of reasons and in a variety of ways. And likely, no matter how good or caring or loving our parents were, it’s probably the case that they weren’t able to meet all of our emotional needs.  This is not to blame parents or society (even though it might feel satisfying to say it’s their fault that I’m this way). It’s simply the way things happened.  

Again, for a variety of reasons some of those core needs we had as children were just not met.  So the child, not having their needs met, does whatever it can to adapt to its environment, to survive.  You can think of these adaptations as like the building of a makeshift spacesuit, in order to be able to breathe.  Not even knowing you were making it, you were building the suit, just grasping for whatever seemed to work to help you be able to breathe in your environment.  And somehow it allows you to survive, maybe through a lot of pain, but survival was achieved nonetheless. The spacesuit did its job.  

Then, as you grow older you continue to wear the spacesuit, believing on a deep (and likely subconscious) level that you really need the spacesuit in order to breathe.  You find yourself wearing this tattered, rusty spacesuit in an environment where you don’t actually need it. You are no longer in that environment in which it was created (without your conscious awareness of it even being created).  Now, it’s actually becoming more and more constricting and heavy, making it hard for you to breathe. The spacesuit is creating this existence of an ongoing struggle, a battle against life for survival: “If only I keep wearing the suit maybe one day I’ll finally get whatever it was that I never got.” 

All along, the child that you once were whose emotional needs went unmet has remained a part of you.  This is your inner child and it continues to call out, to cry, to scream, just trying to receive the care and acceptance that it deserves, simply for being human. Not for its accomplishments, or its good deeds, for how cool it is, how athletic is, how smart it is, how attractive it is.  Not for anything except for just being alive, just for being a person.  

This is the deepest and most true form of acceptance and love that we all, at our core, crave and need, and that many of us have never really felt deeply in our bones.  And since many of us never receive it, a part of our spacesuits is the belief that we don’t deserve it, that we’re not worthy of it.  That if we show others who we really are, they would not accept us and love us.  So we keep wearing the spacesuit. 

What can happen is that we grow to treat our own inner child the same way it was treated by others.  We ignore it, we tell it to be quiet, we get mad at it: “Shut up! Why are you being such a baby! You are so stupid!  Why can’t you just be normal?!” We can develop a strong inner critic voice that’s a part of the spacesuit. If we can judge and criticize ourselves really harshly, then maybe we can take away the power from other people to do so.  If we were to expose who we really are—our inner child—to show that would be even more painful if they were to respond to us in this way.  So we might develop a strategy of a really harsh critical voice aimed at ourselves. 

You might reflect on how you respond to your own inner child in moments where you feel overwhelmed or really anxious or angry or sad.  What does that inner critic voice say to those sides of you that come up? 

Here’s where the paradigm shift can take place.  Anytime that you experience a really strong powerful and overwhelming emotion, imagine this as your own inner child calling out and trying to communicate with you. And then think of how you respond.  Imagine this. When the child calls out to you if they are really sad or angry or anxious, and you respond in a way that is critical and harsh and pushes them away.  

Or could you respond in a way that is compassionate, where you are just there for them and you care for them, maybe in a way that you never received?  

This is the shift that you can make.  You can notice your own feelings coming up.  Those feelings are valid. Notice the urge to criticize yourself, and then shift into a stance of compassion—even if it’s just for a moment—of caring for this side of you. 

Notice this side of you.  Allow it some space to come up.  And then this other side, the spacesuit side that has developed—your grown adult, organized, “has everything together” version can respond to your child self as a loving and caring parent. 

See if the spacesuit version of yourself can step aside for a moment (knowing that it’ll come back), and allow the child version of you to come up and have a full voice for a moment.  What would the child say? What would he/she do?  

Who you are at your core is more than enough, and is totally worthy of love and acceptance, just for being the person, the child of God that you are.  

To be continued . . . with Part 59 

Perfectionism and Mindfulness

For the past couple of years, I’ve been interested in learning more about mindfulness and meditation.  About a year-and-a-half ago, I took a Udemy course on mindfulness and found it very interesting.  Then about five months ago, I took a course on mindfulness from Lower Lights.  Since that time, most nights I’ve engaged in meditation as part of my end-of-the-day winding down.  

As I’ve begun to incorporate the fundamentals, I’ve realized that my perfectionism is diminishing.  Here are just six of the concepts I’ve noticed that are changing the way I am: 

Letting go of judgment.  One of the main teachings of meditation is to become aware of my thoughts without judging them.  They aren’t good or bad; they just are.  As I learn to focus my awareness, if my thoughts go awry, rather than getting upset or feeling I’ve failed, I can gently guide them back.  This concept is directly related to—

Observing my thoughts.  When I have a thought that is unproductive, I can step outside of myself and watch myself having that thought, metacognitively.  Then it’s easier to see how a thought may be negatively impacting me, and to rein it in. 

Becoming centered.  When I notice that I am emotionally out-of-balance, I am better able to center myself again.  Then I’m able to start again, which is related to—

Having a beginner’s mind.  I can approach issues as a beginner would, with curiosity and with the ability to start anew, giving myself a second chance.  This relates to repentance, allowing me to let go of past mistakes and start over again—as many times as it takes. This resilience has been lacking in me.  

Being present in the moment.  If I’m living in the past, it is often laced with regret.  If I’m living in the future, it is often tied to apprehension.  So living in the present allows me to be conscious of where I am right now.  I can let go of what’s outside of my control.  

Coming to know myself.  We are dual beings.  My natural man is my false self.  As I get in touch with my true self, I’m more open to how I fit into God’s larger story for me.  I can hear His voice more readily, and experience Him on a deeper level.  

I recently finished the book, The Power of Stillness—Mindful Living for Latter-day Saints.  I purchased the book at Deseret Book and listened to it on Deseret Plus Audio.  It is great at showing the consistencies between the gospel of Jesus Christ and the traditions of Eastern mindfulness.  And it makes studying these concepts more mainstream for me. 

Compared to living in crisis mode and survival mode, this way of being is much less frantic.  It feels so good to just slow down and be still.  And it’s true, as I let go of the need to be perfect, I feel better about myself, God, and my fellowmen.  

To be continued . . . with Part 58

The Warrior Heart Boot Camp

A week ago I was in Big Canyon in Utah, not far from Coalville and Park City.  I was attending the Warrior Heart Boot Camp.  It was a life-changing three days.  

In Part 48 of my blog from last March, I talked about this experiential weekend retreat.  After I went to the March retreat, I thought, “Well, been there, done that.” And I figured I had gotten what I came for and was done with it.  But after several months I could tell that I was losing some of what I had gained. So when I saw that they were holding another one in November, I felt the tug at my heart.  I prayed to know if it was OK to attend and felt an assurance that it would be a good choice. I registered for the weekend and looked forward to it.  

But during the weeks leading up to the weekend, I had bouts of cold feet, wondering if it was what I should be doing.  I found myself re-thinking the decision—I would need to take vacation time away from work, and the registration fees could be used for other pressing expenses.  Did I really need to attend a 2nd time?  Couldn’t I get the same thing if I just spent some extra time with God and read the book again?  

It reminded me of when I was serving my mission years ago.  We would be teaching someone and had committed them to baptism.  Then in the days leading up to the baptism, they would experience trials and adversity.  The evil one was trying to prevent them from being baptized. Some saw the problems as a sign that they were about to make a big mistake and God was trying to send them a message.  Others recognized the tactics of the enemy and continued strong.  

Since the March retreat, I’ve become more convinced of Satan’s efforts to take me out.  (See my post from last July.)  We’re in an all-out war for the souls of men.  

Last month in Conference, Elder Bednar said:
Satan “is the enemy of righteousness and of those who seek to do the will of God.” All day, every day, his only intent and sole purpose are to make the sons and daughters of God miserable like unto himself.

In that same Conference, Elder Stevenson taught:
Satan, the father of lies and the great deceiver, would have us question things as they really are and either ignore eternal truths or replace them with something that appears more pleasing. “He maketh war with the saints of God” and has spent millennia calculating and practicing the ability to persuade God’s children to believe that good is evil and evil is good. May we recognize Satan’s deceptions for what they are. May we withstand and see through the lies and influences of the one who seeks to destroy our souls and steal from us our present joy and future glory.

I attended again and had a different, but similarly powerful experience.  It was healing on deeper levels than the first time around.  I made stronger connections with good men who have my back in the battles I fight.  I left with a solid resolve and the skills to manage my perfectionism and to place the Lord at the center of my life.  

So now I’m putting in a plug for this retreat.  If you know a man who has been wounded in the battle of life, and could use some healing, consider inviting him to check into the Warrior Heart Boot Camp coming up in May 2020.  There’s also a version for women, called the Heart of a Woman Retreat coming up in February 2020.  Consider it.  

[Photo:  On the Giant Swing during “adventure time.”  In this photo, it looks quite tame because I’m at the bottom of the oscillation, but it’s actually pretty intense!  It provides a spectacular view of the valley.]

To be continued . . . with Part 57

General Conference 

As I usually do, I’ve included here are some of my main takeaways from the General Conference addresses this month, that resonated with me around my perfectionism.

From Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf: 

If you hesitate in this adventure because you doubt your ability, remember that discipleship is not about doing things perfectly; it’s about doing things intentionally. It is your choices that show what you truly are, far more than your abilities.

Even when you fail, you can choose not to give up, but rather discover your courage, press forward, and rise up. That is the great test of the journey.

God knows that you are not perfect, that you will fail at times. God loves you no less when you struggle than when you triumph.

Like a loving parent, He merely wants you to keep intentionally trying. Discipleship is like learning to play the piano. Perhaps all you can do at first is play a barely recognizable rendition of “Chopsticks.” But if you continue practicing, the simple tunes will one day give way to wondrous sonatas, rhapsodies, and concertos.

Now, that day may not come during this life, but it will come. All God asks is that you consciously keep striving.

From Sister Reyna I. Aburto: 

A friend described it this way: “Since my early childhood, I have faced a constant battle with feelings of hopelessness, darkness, loneliness, and fear and the sense that I am broken or defective. I did everything to hide my pain and to never give the impression that I was anything but thriving and strong.”

My dear friends, it can happen to any of us—especially when, as believers in the plan of happiness, we place unnecessary burdens on ourselves by thinking we need to be perfect now. Such thoughts can be overwhelming. Achieving perfection is a process that will take place throughout our mortal life and beyond—and only through the grace of Jesus Christ.

In contrast, when we open up about our emotional challenges, admitting we are not perfect, we give others permission to share their struggles. Together we realize there is hope and we do not have to suffer alone.

President Henry B. Eyring quoted the prophet when he said:

President Nelson went on to give us this encouragement in our efforts to become holier: “The Lord does not expect perfection from us at this point. … But He does expect us to become increasingly pure. Daily repentance is the pathway to purity.” 

To be continued . . . with Part 56

The Issue of Identity

For some time, I’ve been very interested in the root causes of depression, anxiety, addiction, eating disorders, perfectionism, etc.  As I’ve learned more about these and other issues, I’ve come to believe there is a common basis for the development of so many challenges that cause distress and suffering.  Aside from physiological causes, like a chemical imbalance or a broken gland, I’m convinced that the culprit is a misunderstanding of identity. 

I’m a fan of Kurt Francom’s LeadingSaints, a collection of resources aimed to aid church leaders in better fulfilling their callings.  Each year, a virtual summit is held around a certain topic and experts are invited to share their ideas and research.  Earlier this month, the summit was “Liberating Saints: The Online Conference That Will Help Latter-day Saints Support and Lead Those Who Struggle with Pornography.”

Having served as a bishop, I’m aware of the weighty challenge pornography plays in the lives of many individuals.  So I was interested in the topic. I viewed/listened to several of the interviews. One underlying message I heard repeated was: Rather than shame and berate those with pornography problems, we need to help them understand their true identity.  If they really understand how valuable they are as children of a loving Father in Heaven, the problem is significantly diminished.  

I’ve recently delved into the issue of anxiety and how prevalent it is.  Again, aside from physiological causes, I believe healing occurs when a person realizes his worth as a child of God.  

This morning at church we learned about a new initiative for children and youth.  Six outcomes of the new approach are outlined in a guide for parents and leaders. The first bullet point is that the program will help children and youth “Know their eternal identity and purpose.”  

The first phrase in the Young Women Theme is: “We are daughters of our Heavenly Father . . .”  

The adversary is cunning and organized (see my post from July).  If he can get a child to doubt her divine identity, then he doesn’t have to tempt very hard to keep her from progressing.  His believable lies are easily taken in.  

I speak from personal experience here.  My perfectionism was rooted in faulty core beliefs about my self-worth and potential.  Then shame took hold and the lies became ingrained.  

I’m finding that the more I discover my true identity, the less I struggle.  It’s like peeling back layers of falsehood that were keeping me bound down. As I embrace truth and light I gradually emerge from darkness and captivity—not as a perfect person, but as one with divine capacity.  

To be continued . . . with Part 55

The “Act As If” Principle

My mission president taught us the “act as if” principle.  If you want to be dedicated and faithful, act as if you already are.  If you want to be happy and optimistic, act as if you are. I liked that, but it was difficult.  Because of my perfectionism, I usually felt like I wasn’t measuring up. But I put on the façade that I was doing okay.  So it was an act, since I didn’t really feel good about myself.  

Story of my life.

I once took a Theater Arts class at BYU-Idaho called “Actors and Emotion” which focuses on methods for generating emotional experiences while performing.  We learned how to conjure up emotions.  If I wasn’t feeling sad, I could generate that emotion in myself.  It seemed artificial.  If I were actually an actor it would probably be useful.  But because I’m not an actor I didn’t feel good about creating sadness or anger or joy, because it didn’t seem honest.  

By putting on a happy face and smiling, I’ve been criticized (and I’ve criticized myself) for not being authentic.  However, scriptures teach me to “be of good cheer” (Matt 9:3, D&C 68:6, Acts 23:11, Matt 14:27, D&C 61:36, John 16:33).  I love the teaching that we should “cheerfully do all things that lie in our power; and then may we stand still, with the utmost assurance, to see the salvation of God, and for his arm to be revealed” (D&C 123:17).  

So is it OK for me to smile even though I’m going through trials?  Is putting on a happy face like burying my head in the sand or putting on blinders?  

In my Come, Follow Me studies this month, Paul admonished me to “put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ.”  What does that mean?  Can I put Him on, like I would put on a piece of clothing while getting dressed in the morning, and then throughout the day try to act as he would act?  If I were to put Him on as a mask, would I find myself interacting with others in a more Christlike way?  And then after years of wearing Him daily, when I eventually take off the mask, would I find that I’ve taken on His image in my countenance?  

I’m currently re-reading the book “Bonds That Make Us Free” by C. Terry Warner, of the Arbinger Institute.  Near the end of Chapter 11 is this passage:

Behind all this discussion about what we can do to facilitate our own change of heart stands this simple question:  Since we cannot bring about a change of heart in ourselves directly, what can we do directly that will indirectly bring about a change of heart?  The answer is this: Even if we find ourselves unable to do the right thing with concern, compassion, or love, we can nevertheless do it because it is right.  

Pres. Russell M. Nelson taught:  “The joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives.”

So if I can focus on gratitude and peace and joy, even when I’m living in difficult circumstances, I’ll be more apt to find those blessings.  I can choose to act as if I’m happy because it’s the right thing to do.  And it will become a self-fulfilling prophecy.  Men are that they might have joy, even in the midst of adversity.  

To be continued . . . with Part 54