Saturday, October 15, 2011
The angst unfortunately returns...
I find myself in the situation where I have to teach the youth of the church why it is so important to gain a testimony to anchor oneself in this world of amorality, not so much "immorality" as "amorality" - that moral relativity of no right or wrong, no absolute truth, no need to worry about anything as long as you don't hurt anyone else, and no consequences to any personal actions.
I've personally seen the disastrous affect in the life of someone very close to me who has declared his amorality, and how that position has pulled his anchor up from the rock and how is tossing helplessly in a rough sea of life. Watching this happen to one I love so much, has been painful and stressful as I seek ways to help anchor the anchorless.
So, I should be amply supplied with motivation to address this topic, no?
It is important to be anchored, to have core beliefs that provide that foundation upon which to build a meaningful life, right?
So, why then, am I so hesitant in approaching this assignment? I am an anchored person, a moral person with a firm foundation upon which I remain fixed though torrential storms of life pound upon me. So why am I in a funk...
I've been so these last two weeks since General Conference. I really sought for guidance and inspiration at the feet of those who have been called to lead and teach, particularly at this time when I feel like my family is coming undone at the seams, and that the lives of those I love are suffering so tremendously with pain and depression, loneliness and loss of hope. So why did I come away from conference so empty and void?
I particularly love Priesthood Session where I can feel of the brotherhood and enjoy the male bonding of singing and being taught together. Usually I come away uplifted, and I know what the spirit feels like inside me. This time I came away empty. Maybe it didn't help that I was distracted by the most beautiful guy sitting across the aisle from me. He was wearing a crisp black suit and tailored shirt and sharp stylish tie. His eyes were piercing blue and his blond locks cascaded to his shoulders, his blond short beard glistened through his tanned complexion... but I digress.
Yes, I was distracted... and I fought that distraction and tried to concentrate. I took copious notes in hopes of keeping my attention to the speakers' messages - but the spirit was gone. All I could think about was him.
I came home depressed. I couldn't laugh it off like I have done before. I pleaded with Heavenly Father to touch my spirit, to help me to know he was there, and that he really did understand me. I needed to know that the Prophet who typically spoke on Sunday morning, was in tune, and that he understood the bigger picture, and that he understood me. I wanted something more... I wanted to be assured that prayer was real, that my prayers were being listened to, that this was all real and true.
When I heard the prophet tell of the power of prayer, I had hope, but then that hope was crushed as his example of knowing the truth of prayer was centered around leaving a $5 dollar bill in his pocket and it was taken to the laundry and he prayed as a 12 year old boy that it would come back to him because he "really needed that money". And when it did, he "knew" that his prayer was answered!
I about fell off my chair! I audibly gasped a sigh of ultimate frustration! It was as if all truth fell away from me. I came undone. I walked around in total disgust. I know the stories in Fast and Testimony meetings of lost keys, of lost money, of finding this or that, and I can chalk those up as being what they are - limited views of the power of God in our lives and witnesses of his "love" for each of us to remember us and help us with the little insignificant things in comparison to the bigger issues. I get it: Heavenly Father finds our keys, our cell phone, and sends help and inspiration when we need it. But where is He when we face depression, loneliness, helplessness, and hopelessness? Where is He to help me to understand that my "attraction" to the blond beauty in priesthood is just the way I am and it's all okay (I've had that feeling before - and even in the Temple - in a very profound way that I've blogged about last year, but not this time - this time it was just a feeling of "you're really no good and unworthy" - that feeling of angst that I had for years and had moved beyond after that "profound witness of the spirit in the temple that I was loved and understood by Him", for this last year or so... well it all came back and consumed me in hopelessness).
And I became disgusted with the prophet - disgusted that he was no different than the little ones who worship the God of lost keys and money, but not the God of one who can accept me for me and help me to stay "anchored" as loved ones are being tossed to and fro.
I became disconnected with the prophet. I have spent the last two weeks struggling with the gulf of disconnect that has overcome me. I have become lost, my tethering rope to my anchor is gone. I feel afloat and hopeless. I feel alone. Everything has come into question again in my life. I feel that if the prophet doesn't get it, then who does? And if this isn't the truth, then what is? Or is there really no truth, no absolute, no anchor, no right and wrong... am I left not with morality or immorality - just amorality?
And now how am I to be an example of an anchor for these youth tomorrow when I feel so unanchored myself? when I don't feel like I'm guiding my family, my loved ones and giving them strength in their serious time of need when I feel so weak? when I feel angst returning and assurance fleeing? when I start asking the haunting question of who I really am?
I guess I'll keep faking it. Un-authenticity continues to be my core mantra.