Knowing good beats looking good. Always.
Doing good trumps knowing good. Period.
Being good encompasses knowing and doing good - but is so much more.
Becoming better is the object of mortality.
Ultimately, becoming fully good is the object of eternal existence.
Truly, God is good.
Something to provide a different perspective:
Perhaps most of the vocal opposition to Mormonism is produced by those who sincerely feel like we are stealing something. From this perspective, we steal members (and their attendant money) away from ministers and congregations, but we also steal souls away from Christ or tradition or family.
I interviewed many years ago for a position of teacher at a Quaker school. The principal told me directly that he would have to defend my hiring to one board member who had “lost a daughter to the Mormons.” Money had nothing to do with that father’s emotion; he truly felt his daughter’s spiritual life was in danger.
Likewise, one of my missionary companions was a native Japanese elder. He was the oldest son of the oldest son of the town’s Buddhist priest - going back about 16 generations. When he joined the Church, his father performed a death ceremony for him - in Christian terms, letting go of a damned soul.
Finally, early converts didn’t join and stay in their home towns with their families. They joined and moved thousands of miles away to live among the saints. They said, in essence, “I would rather be with Joseph Smith and the Mormons than with you, my family.” I know that is consistent with statements in the New Testament, but it still is a brutal message to hear as a parent or sibling.
In each of these cases, these people believed deeply that joining the Mormon Church was tantamount to abandoning family and friends and jumping into the flames of Hell. They felt that the Mormon Church stole their children’s eternal salvation/soul/destiny. That underlying feeling of being robbed in one way or another can’t be ignored - and for those of us who are parents, it should be understood better. We should be much more charitable in our reaction to opposition - understanding how we would feel if we "lost a child" to something in which we didn't believe and which we felt would harm her eternally.
Yesterday, I posted something Jami wrote last week: "Nobody can fix me quite as well as he who created me." To build on that thought, I want to post an excerpt from something I wrote last Fall. Here is it:
It is a basic medical truism that you cannot be cured of most illnesses unless you receive treatment for it – usually by going to someone who can heal you. In order to be healed, you need to expose the problem that is troubling you to someone who can recognize it and offer assistance that will alleviate your suffering and cure the issue.
In spiritual terms, we accept God, the Father, and His Son, Jesus Christ, as the ultimate healers, but I have come to believe that relatively few members understand fully the promises we make when we agree to take His name upon us. We often translate this as "being Christians," but "Christ" was only one of his titles - only one of the names by which He is known. It is a title, not necessarily a communicable name. There is not room here to discuss the full implications of this promise, but there is one name that we can assume - no matter our circumstances or limitations. It is Healer.
We promise to assume his role of Healer specifically when we promise to mourn with those that mourn and comfort those who stand in need of comfort. Just like any doctor, however, we simply cannot do this unless we are "open" to the sick and afflicted (either to their visits or through our own house calls) - unless we are aware of someone else’s pain and suffering – unless we know why they mourn and what comfort they need - unless we are able to see their warts. We might “fellowship” with each other on Sunday, but if we only see each other at our Sunday best - disabilities covered by white shirts and ties and warts carefully hidden beneath well-placed mascara - we completely miss the opportunity for the depth of full fellowship that allows us to act in the place of Jesus and heal in His stead.
I am struck by how Jesus healed. He didn't say, "Lock yourselves in your rooms and ask to be healed." Rather, He said, "Come unto me." Healing was not an impersonal event; it was full of touching and blessing and communicating and real physicality.
Think about it: To whom do you feel closest in life - and in your ward or branch? Is it because you know their joys and their pain - and they know yours? Is it because you have seen their warts, and they have seen yours? Perhaps, is it because you share a common type of wart - because you have shed a tear together or held each other as life seemed to shake around you? Is it because you have held their hand, embraced them and touched their lives in real and practical and powerful ways?
Truly, nobody can fix me quite as well as he who created me, but I can't help but believe that He can fix His children more fully if we are willing to be a medicinal or surgical tool in His hands.
In a PEC last year, I heard this exchange - and I think it illustrates the need to let people govern themselves:
Missionaries: Bro. New Convert needs a calling.
High Priests Group Leader: He told me he is getting overwhelmed by everything he is being asked to do and needs to move at his own pace. He feels like he is being asked to do something every meeting he attends (say a prayer, read a scripture, give input on the lesson, etc.), and he isn't comfortable with that type of public action yet.
Bishop: That’s fine. Ask him to attend the New Member Lessons Brother Whatever is teaching, but tell him we will not push him to move faster than he is comfortable moving. Tell him to let you know when he feels ready for a calling.
Bishop to other attendees: Don’t ask Brother New Convert to do anything, including prayers, unless you talk with HP Group Leader first and he clears it with me. We will never try to force anyone to do anything they don’t want to do.
I love that bishop.
In the dictionary, joy actually is a subset of happiness; it is the extreme end of the happiness spectrum. (Happiness: "a state of well-being characterized by emotions ranging from contentment to intense joy" - Joy: "intense and especially ecstatic happiness") These definitions make it clear that, technically, one can feel happiness without experiencing joy, but one cannot experience joy without being happy.
That having been said, in order to understand a word I look for the nuances of actual usage. Generally, we say that we "feel happy", while we "have joy". Likewise, we say we "are happy", but we "are joyful". Finally, we don't "happy" as a verb, but we do "joy". (The dictionary lists joy as a verb.) That's the distinction I draw. Happy is a feeling that comes and goes; joy is something that we have or possess, something that causes us to do - to "joy".
I know the limitations of this analogy, but it is much like the distinction we draw between belief and faith – a distinction many others don’t make. Belief is something our mind and/or heart feels; faith a belief that is so strong that it drives our actions - a belief so strong that it motivates us to do. Likewise, the Bible draws a clear line between the type of love that is "felt" and the type of love that is "expressed through action" - a love so strong it will cause us to act upon our feelings - to "love someone" as a verb. Paul makes that distinction explicit in his discourse on charity.
It's good to feel, but it's better to act on those feelings.
