Obeying - more than a moment's decision

I turned to the Topical Guide and read the first entry under "Obedience." It was a verse in the story of Noah.

It was interesting to me that Noah's story begins with the Lord being grieved by the wickedness of the people. Noah found grace in God's eyes because he was "a just man and perfect in his generations" and  "Noah walked with God" (Genesis 6:7-8).

I think it's interesting that in the same thought of Noah being a just man, it also says that he walked with God. As in, walked in the same manner God does—justly? And because of that was able to spend time learning from God. That's pretty cool.

In Genesis 6:13, God speaks to Noah and tells him what is going to happen (the people are going to be destroyed) and he tells him exactly what to do to escape that fate (built an ark of such and such a size, with these materials, etc.). It may seem strange that God would talk directly to Noah—doesn't he love the other people as well? He does love them—but they've already established that they aren't going to listen to him. They ignored his advice for so long that they are completely unwilling to listen to him, even if it costs them their lives.

Why would the Lord choose to tell Noah his plans to destroy everyone, then? Why would he tell Noah what to do to bring his family to safety? He loves them; Noah will listen to him. Noah's actions didn't bring the Lord to say that it repented him that he even created him. I think this tells us that the Lord wasn't angry for the sake of being angry—he went through the process of planning a way to save one family who still listened to him and tried to be good. Noah had established a relationship of trust with all of those walks with God (hear: all of the past of following in God's paths).

But Noah didn't get a free ticket out. At this point he still could have said it was too hard, that making that much pitch didn't really appeal to him. He could have been overwhelmed with how demanding the task was—finding a male and female of all sorts of animals, and building an ark that would house them all safely sounds difficult to me. Let alone gathering "all food that is eaten" enough to "be for food for thee, and for them [all of the animals]."

So Noah had a choice to make—would he trust that the Lord would really destroy those people? Would the flood really happen? Could he really build a sea-worthy vessel, especially one strong enough to hold all sorts of animals, as well as enough food for them AND for his family?

"'Noah and His Ark' by Charles Willson Peale, 1819" by Charles Willson Peale - Own work - Wmpearl.
 Licensed under Public domain via Wikimedia Commons

It's not clear how much doubt Noah dealt with as the Lord told him this life-changing news, but it is clear from his actions that he did trust, and acted accordingly:

"Thus did Noah; according to all that God commanded Him, so did he." (Genesis 6:22)

Comparing the Comparable

In my skimming of the news I came across this story.

Police find remains of seven babies at Utah home

My reaction was something like "How in the world could she do that? WHY would she do that?" I felt disturbed and revolted.

My next thought was "but isn't this exactly the same thing I heard people advocating for--for the right to choose whether or not the babies they have live?"

I also heard a story containing an audio of someone talking with a clinic talking about late-term abortion--even after-birth abortion. (I don't want to try searching for it--the kinds of things that search will bring up is more than I ever want to learn about--but it's out there.)

What is so different between what Huntsman did and what abortion clinics do? Is the difference that she did it herself? As far as I can see, that's really the only difference.

Can I say that something is messed up? I think I can. It seems obvious from the first story (and the comments on it) that our society considers a mother killing her babies is disturbing, wrong. Why can't we see that the SAME applies to abortion? What's getting in the way?

Some comments say she is clearly mentally ill. So does it follow that all mothers who would choose to end the life of their infant for personal convenience (and the society that makes it overly acceptable--even right--to do so) are mentally ill, not seeing things correctly?

My answer is yes. What is yours?

"I wonder as I wander"
sounds like a melancholy sound
a mourning and a longing
"banishing the thoughts of day."
Thoughts of previous poets surround me
seclude me
surround me
evade me
"There is no peace for the wicked."

(The Greeks and Romans knew of this—
even their deities could not stop fighting.)

I fear it's my fault--
I chose to study the words of
"the grand old poets
whose distant footsteps echo
down the corridors of time"

Those bards sublime
wrote songs of praise.
The word-smithies in their
dark and Sun-starved dens,
closed from the
world of everyday men.

Their sounds and their songs
once I held to my heart,
repeating the phrases,
self-enchanting with metres
and achieving life's bliss with a word.
Or a phrase of words
In beautiful harmony
"Like the song of a lark"
Or the "rushing of a mighty wind."

Whatever those sounds may be.
The words are now fake to me
bloated with pretense,
smitten with pride;
Not things I want in my sight.

Who speaks my fancy now?
What will thrill my heart until I
can hardly stand it?

"Come, read to me some poem,
some simple, heartfelt lay
to soothe this restless feeling
and banish the thoughts of day"

On Expectations

Expectations. They can be motivating high-jump bars, poles to estrange a relationship, or bats that we beat ourselves up with.

They can motivate the person you expect things from to achieve more. It can be equivalent to believing in them, seeing their potential, and not letting them get away with things.



Expectations can also be harmful. When you expect unrealistic things of people, you set them up to fail. When you don't share your expectations with someone, but expect him or her to do it anyway, you are lighting the torch that will set your relationship aflame.

Your own unrealized expectations can contribute to feelings of worthlessness.

Expectations (ones you know and lurking ones you didn't know you had) can make you feel disappointment.

I think the expectations we don't realize we have are the sneakiest and hardest to combat. All throughout high school I expected myself to ace every test, nail every exam. There was anxiety and sleepless nights before the test, tenseness during the test, sometimes dread waiting for the grade, and either disappointment in myself or a sigh of relief when they were graded and handed back. In that way, expectation plagued me—I didn't usually celebrate my grades, but I feared not making them.

The Expectation Monster bit the hardest when I crossed the stage at the senior award ceremony. I had received several awards—including the science award—but as I sat there I tasted bitter disappointment. I had gotten exactly what I hoped for (the expectations I knew about)—these awards evidenced that. But I still felt disappointment. I expected it to feel more victorious, more exciting. But the papers clutched in my hand didn't really mean that much to me, in the long run, and I wondered what it was that I had really wanted all those years...

I crossed the stage, 4th person in my high school because of my GPA. I thought back over the last four years. Was it worth it? I wasn't sure. And I still felt that this was somehow empty, that I had sacrificed too much along the way to my expectations, only to feel that my expectations of the returns of those sacrifices weren't what I had hoped.

Thinking back on that now helps me feel motivated to search out the expectations I have for myself and for people around me. Then I can consciously decide if they are good to keep (such as expecting the person standing next to me on the bus to try to not fall on me), or if life would be better without them (such as expecting my husband to do the dishes the way I was taught how to do them).

Discovering your hidden expectations and weighing their effect can help you be happier—either because you decide to let them go or because you know what it is you're striving for.

But on the other hand, the high expectations others had of me helped me see what I could do, or at least have the courage to try to achieve things that required a lot of effort, willpower, and belief in myself—belief that I sometimes needed to borrow from others (my parents, my teachers, and sometimes my peer group) as I tried to measure up.



One short example of that was when my friends thought I would do well as a representative of the 7th (or 8th?) grade class in student government. I wouldn't have put myself out there to run if it hadn't been for their encouraging words, and I applied myself to the responsibilities involved because I knew they had faith in me to do a good job and bring up the important issues. And I enjoyed the great opportunity in the student government because of other people's expectations of me.

Have you had someone who helped you achieve more because he or she had high expectations of you?

What are some expectations you have of other people that you haven't told them?

Have you found out that you had hidden expectations that sabotaged your happiness, either in a friendship or with life in general?

On Hiding

Why do we hide?

I remember in school trying to sink down in my chair when I didn't know the answer to a question.

Making eye contact—if people can see you and you can see them, hiding is hard. When you don't want to be discovered, you try to make it so the other person can't see your eyes, the connectors, the acknowledgement that you know they can see you. That you accept that they—those eyes—can see you. You put your head down, hide your head (is there a name for this scientifically or in the world of sociology or psychology?).

We hide our faces to keep from showing what we think are imperfections—surface ones and ones beneath the skin.

During the underground railroad, and the hunting of people in Nazi Germany, they hid for safety.

Sickness
depression
unsurity
fear

you feel intimidated or unimportant
you don't want to disabuse people of misconceptions
you're playing (it's fun to be found)
you don't want people to see your weaknesses
you don't want people to remember you in your worst state.

In the scriptures, sometimes the wicked would wish that the mountains came down and covered them rather than meet the Savior, the Savior they didn't accept when they most needed to.

Because we're not sure who we are, and our courage wanes: Sound the Bugle (Bryan Adams)

To protect ourselves; To not hurt others
To escape from (or retreat to) the past.

Do we hide because we're dying to be found?

Afraid of what being found would mean?

How about you? What are some reasons you can think of for hiding?

How Like My Neighbors I Am

our world...
quiet places, undisturbed stillness
working in my element
I improve my corner of the world,
making it liveable for others

By Pudelek (Marcin Szala) (Own work)
[CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

I weave invisible walls to protect me and mine.

I like to curl up in a nest that I've made.

I like the night hours because things are still and less busy and noisy.

I don't like to be disturbed in my home.

So like my neighbors.

They close doors behind them to shut others out.

They protect their children with walls—seen and unseen.

They block the world out with ear buds, trying to make a corner their own.

They scurry to their jobs, working to make the world a better place for others.

We like dark, quiet, undisturbed boxes.

We spend long periods of time waiting for something to come along.

We avoid sunlight, and awake from our droning stupor in the early morning and evening hours.

In moments when people scare me, in my fear I might seem unattractive, even vicious.

But I am so like them—Why be afraid?

Because they don't see how alike we are. 

My neighbors—so similar to myself—try to kill me. 

So I hide.

—Hairy Wolf Spider

By Thomas Shahan from USA (Eye Arrangement of a Hogna Wolf Spider) [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

On Preparation

I got interviewed for a radio bit a few months ago. It was really cool—I got to go into the studio, wear the cool headphones, talk into a huge fluffy-looking microphone. I went without too much preparation. The interview was only a few minutes long, and it was about an article I had written, and about people I had interviewed. I thought it wouldn't be too hard.

I was in for some discomfort. My interviewer asked me (before the interview) what I wanted to talk about. I didn't know exactly. The things he wanted to hear about (what it's like teaching abroad, history of Kazakhstan, or more about what it's like to live abroad) I didn't necessarily know much about. I was stuck giving some generalizations and shortened versions of stories I remember them telling me. I left feeling like I didn't convey much when it could have been a fun interview.

Preparation would have made that encounter much less painful. It's not fun to be unprepared. Let's not even talk about how lame it is to sound dumb as soon as sounds come out of your mouth. And to appear like you're not really conveying what you want to. Yup, preparation would have made that go better.

Preparation is running things through beforehand. Figuring out what your purpose is. Planning out what you will say. I learned (again) that I'm not good at doing that on the fly. I needed more preparation before I slipped in front of the microphone.

Doctrine & Covenants 36:30 "but if ye are prepared ye shall not fear."

But preparation can take many forms. Preparing for an exam could mean hours of sitting with a textbook and notes spread out in front of you. Or it could mean talking with classmates about the course material. Preparing for giving a speech in front of a crowd could mean some time giving your speech to a mirror. Preparing for an interview could mean running through potential questions or getting more familiar with the background of the topic you're going to focus on.

That's where I messed up—I didn't anticipate being asked questions about current events in Kazakhstan, or the pros and cons of different teaching methods, though those were both loosely related to the topic at hand. I wasn't prepared to give my opinion on the feature story I wrote—I was only ready to give a report on it.

So while I did prepare, I didn't prepare correctly for the ordeal (yes, I would consider it an ordeal) ahead of me. It stands to reason that different kinds of performance demand different kinds of preparation—but sometimes we just can't know what kind of preparation is required until we've performed that particular kind of task before. That's a good reason to try new things and at least get your feet wet in several different activities—you'll have a better idea of what kind of preparation you need before doing that again.

But my lack of preparation, in this case, was more than an instance of the wrong preparation. It was also a lack of confidence. And forgiveness.

Sometimes you can't prepare for all the possibilities. In that case, building your courage and stepping forward might be the best kind of preparation you can do. Learning to go with things as they come is another kind of preparation. And not beating yourself up about what happens, the mistakes you WILL make. The scripture doesn't say "If ye are prepared ye shall not mess up"; it says "ye shall not FEAR." And one thing I fear is the bite of self-criticism that comes after not living up to my endlessly high expectations (like doing an excellent job on my first-ever radio interview). How easy that should be to overcome (it is, after all, my thoughts)—yet how intrenched it is. In that case, I think a great preparation for future performance is to forgive yourself for mistakes or "failures" in past performances. Resolve to be kind to yourself after doing something new, or something you know is hard for you. Then you will be prepared, and not give yourself more need to fear.