Of God, Dentists and Moral Relativism, Part 1

                Recently I have had some pretty interesting and eye opening discussions about my beliefs and religion with people. I am writing this blog to first (in part 1) discuss lessons I have learned from them and secondly (part two) to better try and answer some questions that have been posed to me.

While I regret to admit my own weakness, I am deeply indebted to my friends for teaching me a valuable lesson. It’s obvious now that I fell into a common ‘know-it-all’ trap upon first discussing these things. Although no philosopher or scientist has ever been able to do it before, of course I, Sarah, the sultan of scripture, the colossus of canon, the great bible-bino, felt that somehow, with a flick of the wrist on my typing keys, could single-handedly turn the atheists in the world to God-loving church-goers. Well, I didn’t really think that—at least, not consciously, but sometimes when my intentions are good, I get caught up in the moment—in one argument after another—in proving that I’m always right.  Then, before I know it, my entire point in the first place is long gone and I don’t even remember what is was, let alone where it went. Humility is really the key to any discussion or human interaction, especially of this type.

My friend pointed this out to me. He wrote the following: “Your faith is subjective. That’s the nature of faith! It’s ineffable. No matter how powerful your convictions and beliefs, you can't truly convince someone to believe in what you believe without them coming to it themselves. You can talk about what your faith does for you, and how you came to it, but I believe that once you start trying to pitch battle on the warfront of logic and reasoning, you've lost.”

And he is absolutely right. I’m really grateful that he stepped in because if he hadn’t, I’d probably be really upset right now for no reason—realizing I messed up somewhere, but not knowing where.

                So where did I go wrong exactly? I served a mission and taught this stuff to people every day. I already knew that contention and argument just leaves me and my companion literally crying out on a street corner in the rain about how mean those people were and I how powerless I felt to stop them. (Oh, it was a terrible story—my beautiful, caring, awe-inspiring mission companion was Dominican black and right in front of her, a pastor from another church and his follower had the audacity to say that my church thinks black people are not as virtuous as white people. They were venomous).

But looking back, I think it is experiences like that that actually stem this kind of contentious behavior in me now. I'm tired of getting hurt. I'm tired of being vulnerable. I realize now that so many times I have been put on the defensive about my religion. Ignorance, anger and ill-will on the part of the critic combine to make a perfect storm of not just the general ‘how can anybody believe in God?’ kind of stuff that many Christians receive, but the ‘Mormons are (insert degrading, unfounded insult-followed-by-expletive) here.’  Perhaps now that I’m 27 years old and my peers’ pre-frontal cortices are more fully developed, I shouldn’t feel like I have to worry about that kind of stuff. But it seems like every question is laced and loaded with an attitude of ‘don’t bother trying to explain, because there’s no way you are possibly right about this.’

When even some of your dearest friends reenact scenes of Joseph Smith as a drunkard (despite there being no historic evidence to back that up), take quotes from religious leaders SIGNIFICANTLY out of context, and try to TELL you what you believe, is it no wonder I get defensive. Even today in the modern era, people think it’s okay to not just make fun of the seemingly odd cultural norms of white Mormons in Utah, (and yes, we are sometimes hilarious and peculiar) but to openly mock, ridicule and lie about the most sacred aspects of my belief system.  I’m getting upset right now just writing this.

But I need to let this go. I need to forgive. Holding onto these wounds skews my perception of today’s sincere inquirer, and the defense braces me for further hurt and ultimate spiritual defeat. I suppose since I’m probably not the only one who has had these experiences, I plead with you to do the same—let it go. That isn’t because we Christians are supposed to self-righteously and piously not think ill of the slime beneath us (please know I’m being facetious). That isn’t because our hurts aren’t valid. And although it’s an important point, neither would I say that it’s just because that is what God commanded us to do. But because a)since we claim to know that God heals us from these difficult wounds, why wouldn’t we take advantage of that miraculous power and b) if we don’t, we won’t be capable of discussing these things with both the composure and conviction that we need to make any semblance of sense or impact we desire. (This is due in part to the fact that we’re not practicing what we preach, and mainly because it is only the power of the Holy Ghost that can testify of the things we say to the hearts of the people.)

Even in midst of my struggle to overcome past wounds inflicted, this experience has given me a lot of hope. The people with whom I have been discussing things now are not like those people of my past. I have been impressed with both the sincerity of their questions and their respect and attitude towards me. I have opened myself up a little bit more, telling them of both my desires to answer their questions and my insecurities about doing so, and I have been truly humbled at their understanding. I used to think, not with the people themselves, but on the topic of religion specifically, that it was me against the world—no one could possibly understand and I had to keep my beliefs guarded. I also thought that people put up walls when they asked me questions about my religion, but now I realize it is I who has never taken the walls of the past down. This is, of course, because I forgot the most important part about religion—that life and love and faith are all risks. I need to hold fast to something that I believe, even though it is something I cannot see. This seems irrational to some, and probably it is, but it is the only way I can demonstrate that I really do have a conviction for something. If I feel, which I do, that God has asked me to be open with people about the things I believe (something that is very difficult for me) then I need to trust that He will help me and provide a way that I can do that. I believe that this experience (concluding with a PUBLIC APOLOGY to anyone with whom I’ve had an un-open or holier than thou attitude, an olive branch to those who have hurt me, and a sincere thank you to those people whom now I call even greater friends) has been a part of that way. 

The Epiphany of Sweetness and Innocence

        Tonight I went to my bishop's house to watch the fireworks display. All of his children and grandchildren were there (lots of people). I didn't really know anybody so I just sat there watching, both the fireworks and the people. To the right of me sat a little girl on the lap of her father. She was blissfully happy. "I think that one was my favorite firework, daddy." (After another goes off in splendor) "no, daddy, it was that one."
        I couldn't help but think to myself "how is this child so happy?" Or, perhaps more accurately "why am I no longer like this?" I have had struggles in my life, including depression, but I generally consider myself a pretty optimistic individual. I really love life and people and seeing the good in the world. But recently, I've just kind of had a very hard time.
      I think I fell into the trap--the trap of academia. The trap of jaded-ness. The trap of searching for the truth and sometimes finding more than you bargain for. The world is full of a lot of ugliness and yuckiness. People hurting other people, beliefs based on pessimistic and almost traumatic philosophies, etc. When I realized that not only was the world full of ugliness, but that I, even I, who have worked my whole life to live up to the truth, had bought into the lies of a hedonistic, objectivist, self-centered culture, and that nobody was even noticing it--well, I knew I had messed a lot of things up. I spiraled into a deep depression.
      And, in case you might think this wasn't a big deal, I could see how these difficulties were influencing my relationships with my friends in particular, and even with some family members, as well as my ability to handle schoolwork. In my last semester. I was drowning and didn't know what to do.
      Suffice it to say, I wasn't having a happy fourth of July.
      So I continued to think about this little girl. I realized something utterly important. She is able to be happy because she has a unfailing trust in her father. She doesn't need to know about what problems go on in the world or in school or anything like that because she trusts her father. He will take care of all those things for her. She doesn't have to kill spiders or watch her weight or hide from bad people because daddy is there. He will protect her.
       While I'm sure a little girl inside of me screams that I didn't always have that feeling of security in my life growing up, I am here now. I know that I have a Heavenly Father who loves me, whom I need to trust. That doesn't mean He wants me to be naive about the worlds problems, or that I need to run away from them. I feel like there are things I personally can do to help people to love them and be a support. Certainly my struggles have been a blessing to others with whom I could empathize. I know I believe that education is an important part of that. But if I, with lost hope, consumed with discouragement, sit in my room watching tv on the internet, trying to avoid the fear and sadness so furiously trapping me, then the things I have feared will have won and I will never be an instrument to bring a sense of goodness in the world.
       No, I don't need to be happy all the time. It's important to pay homage to the pain that's going on in the world and not to shut out the difficulties and struggles made by people everyday. But it is not my job to solve them. I am only one person, and while I will do what I can do, I can't take everything on. That is where my Savior comes in. "Surely, He hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows...He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon Him; and with His stripes we are healed."
      I have known ever since I was a little child that Jesus Christ really is the Savior of the world. I know that it's difficult for some people to believe that. I really understand why. But I know it. With everything I've seen and all the pain I have faced, I cannot deny that enduring truth. I know why others don't understand it, and I certainly haven't always lived up to believing that principle, but I know it nonetheless, like the sun rising in the sky every morning. I've wondered why I have this gift and others do not. Perhaps God knew that because, since I so often try to solve everything by myself and take on all the world's problems,  it is nearly impossible for me to be happy without it. But I know that He lives, that He loves me and that He and my Heavenly Father are the people I can trust in--similar to that little girl who trusted in her father to solve all of the little problems that she could not understand. She went around and kept on learning and growing and experiencing life, in fact, likely more effectively because she trusted in her father. So I don't think this idea relinquishes me from responsibility. It only gives me the liberation to go and take on more.
      In any case, I desire to turn over a new leaf of optimism. Not naive and in denial as I was when I was a child, and not dismissing the problems that we're facing in this world of grief and this veil of sorrow, but of hope and faith, that, although I cannot fix everyone's problems, and though I might not know all the answers, I can trust in a God who watches over His people (all of His children, everyone here on earth) and with His infinite eternal plan that includes the agency of man (who often times make very sad and poor choices) that His power is enough. His love is enough. His atonement is enough. I need to keep looking to Him, and though the shadows may still exist, they will ultimately fall behind me.
     
   

Blog Preface

     La Jornada is the name of my blog. In Spanish could be translated to mean 'the day' or like 'the workday,' but in this instance it's going to signify more of 'the day's journey.' I think it's a great word. If you read my posts, sometimes there will be random words in Spanish. That's okay.
     There's a specific reason why I'm writing this blog. I thought I would actually start a blog. Well, I started a blog once, but so much of the stuff I kept too personal, or I thought that nobody would really understand, that I just kept it all too myself. I would write and never post, or if I did, it wasn't actually to anything I thought people would ever see...and definitely not connect it with me. Nothing bad, of course, I mean, if you know me well enough, I really don't have too much of some secret dark double-life or anything like that. Just things that are apart of this vast web of philosophical nebula mixed with deep practically intangible emotion too thick to sort out that I couldn't possibly expect anyone to understand. Except for crazy people. And I didn't want to look like a crazy people so I just left it unsaid.
     But it is for that precise reason that I am writing a blog. I'm trying to get out all of the things inside my head. Or at least not be consumed by them.

     Anyway, I thought I'd tell you some rules for reading my blog. They're not really rules exactly, I guess just some things to expect or look forward to. So perhaps you could see if this blog is for you.
----(As previously discussed) there may be Spanish words thrown in once in a while. Don't get scared. I'll probably define them for you, and if not, you can look them up on spanishdict.com--I like it better than google translate because it often gives both context and etymology). I've been learning Spanish since for over ten years now and it just feels like it's easier to express my feelings in that language than any other.
----I go off on random tangents. Often times they are funny, sometimes they're just random. They are usually pertinent to the point at hand. And if you think I'm analyzing too much, just know that that is REALLY how my mind is going about ninety percent of the day. I clarify myself. I'm kind of wordy at times, but I think I'm worth listening to on occasion.
----I analyze. Everything. I don't do it on purpose. I believe it was a skill I acquired to learn a lot of important things. But I think I'm related to Monk in that way...it's a gift and a curse.
----I like Monk. And a lot of other tv shows. I may reference them on occasion. As well as literature. I love literature.
----Same goes for philosophy. But it's harder to wrap my mind around that stuff. So if I'm understanding it wrong, please bear with me.
----I'm reaching out to you to not feel so isolated. I think we can do this thing together.
----I can be funny at times. Or exaggerate to make a point. I do all of those irrational argument flaws that Plato talked about. But I suppose I don't have to really care considering it's my blog.
----And lastly, I'm grateful to those who are reading. I'm turning to the world for support. And I hope it works out in the end.


Thanks for Tuning in. Now let's get started. :)