Maybe being critical and overly-blunt really is who you are. Maybe being a victim and playing the martyr is really integral to the personality you've developed. Maybe you've defined yourself as a rebel for so long you don't know who you'd be if you gave it up. Maybe you are very definitely by your nature an intensely moody person. Maybe everyone who loves you knows that you're self-righteous and they accept you as you are because they can see the good parts. Maybe being self-centered is so second-nature to you that you hardly notice it. Or maybe its something smaller: maybe you are rather disorganized (and consequently, only semi-reliable); maybe you're kind of messy and cluttered; maybe you're bad at getting daily chores done; maybe you tend not to notice those around you as much as some think you should.
Yes, any and all of those things may be "who you are"--a deeply ingrained piece of your personality. That absolutely does not mean that it is who you must be. It certainly doesn't mean that it is who you should be. Saying, "Well, that's just who I am" or "that's just how I am" is a faithless, indolent excuse. It implies that our nature is unchangeable and effort is useless. It baffles me when anyone who claims to have a testimony of the Atonement uses this line.
Granted, there are some things about ourselves that are such a deep part of our character that they will probably never change. My husband, for example, is an extremely intense personality, and he always will be. But he doesn't have to be intensely moody or intense in his outward reactions--those are behaviors that can be reigned in and changed (an example I use because I have already seen him make tremendous progress in that area in the last 7 years).
Most things that we don't like about ourselves or that others don't like about us (that they justifiably don't like, I should say), are things we have been given the power to overcome. The Lord says that, if we cooperate and do our share of the work, He can change our hearts. He frequently refers to our heart as the center of ourselves--life begins and ends quite literally with the heart, and so it is metaphorically where we define ourselves and what is important to us. He promises that, as we are obedient and faithful, he will convert our hearts and change our very countenances.
Does that sound easy or painless to anyone? Its hard work, to be sure. We come to Him with a "broken heart and contrite spirit"--that sounds pretty painful and difficult to me. We all know how much a broken heart hurts, and the simple fact of the matter is that no one breaks our hearts more than we do it to ourselves. Oh, sure, we try to blame it on just about everyone else if the "contrite spirit" is missing from the equation--the broken heart comes when we make mistakes, but the contrite spirit is up to us. If we recognize what we've done and feel that contrition, we can go to the Savior and He binds up our hearts. If we are not contrite, we continue in our misery, often pointing fingers at those around us, and instead of overcoming our mistakes we turn them into a part of who we are.
My step-grandpa is very ill. He was taken to the hospital last week and, though he's home now, his prognosis isn't very good and his time is likely very limited. He married my grandma about 9 years ago. Shortly thereafter, he joined the church--at 91 years old (there were many jokes about death bed repentance). A year later, he went through the temple and was then sealed to my grandmother--herself being sealed to an eternal companion for the first time in her late 70s. He has blessed her grandchildren and stood in on their confirmations. He has been sealed to some of her children. He has been an active temple-goer. All in his 90s. I've never gotten to know Clark terribly well (though I have enjoyed my visits with him at my grandma's house), but he has been a wonderful reminder to me to never be discouraged. There have been times in my rather short life of 25 years where I felt like giving up on myself or someone I loved because it didn't seem like there was any progress at all--where I felt like nothing had changed, and that nothing ever would. But his life changes at an age where most people don't even have the luxury of being alive anymore have kept me ever mindful of the fact that I ought not get impatient. There is still time. And there is always hope.
I am often painstakingly slow in my own progress and usually run a two-steps-forward-one-step-back course. I can be impatient and self-righteous and lazy, but that's not who I am. Who I am is a daughter of a Heavenly Father and Mother, blessed by their Divine nature and Heavenly traits. When someone offends us or screws up, we often react by saying, "Well, now they're showing their true colors". I vehemently disagree. Who we really are is shown in our best moments. When we succeed, we are touching the potential of our noble birthright as a Child of God. That's who you really are. Maybe that's not who you seem to be at the moment, but that's what you ought to be striving for. He gives you the tools to reach for that ideal, and so He expects you to use them. There is no quitting. There is no, "Can't change now that I (insert random life milestone here)" or "I'm too set in my ways to change". The Savior told the parable of the vineyard workers so that we would understand that that excuse will never fly. Some worked from dawn til dusk, and some only made it at the last hour, but they all got the same reward. The Atonement is there for all, whether you're 15 or 105, and as long as your body draws breath and your heart beats, you have time to become what your Father intended you to be.
2 comments:
again, you and i have the same brain. becky
Beautifully illustrated point.
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