I can't understand it. I have accomplished so much in just over 30 short years. Though I wasn't high school valedictorian, I was "Star of the Week" in 1st grade, 2nd grade, 3rd grade, and 5th grade. Though I didn't make the cut for the football team, I set an All-Ward record for the most “Mississippi’s” counted out loud by a defensive back in a Turkey Bowl—and, yes, Mississippi’s are more impressive than actual sacks. I even played a round of golf and managed to keep the same ball for all 18 holes while navigating past three water hazards.
In high school, rather than being voted for something superfluous like Best Smile, Best Hair, or even Most Likely to end up on a cover of Time Magazine, and though I didn’t get the highly coveted distinction of Most Likely to Succeed, I was voted Most Likely to be driving around a Minivan full of kids in 5 Years. Honestly, that’s a pretty tall order for any high school graduate, let alone a guy with plans to serve a two-year mission. But six months ago we finally purchased our first minivan. Even though it took me 12 years instead of 5, I consider that purchase a smashing success! So, let’s be honest… who really was Most Likely to Succeed?
I beat the game The Legend of Zelda in 2 hours and 15 minutes. I’ve watched every episode of Lost, Prison Break, and Arrested Development, and I’m well on my way to completing The Cosby Show, Magyver, and Cheers. Four of my videos have the distinguished honor of being shown on YouTube, and my channel has one follower. Speaking of followers, I have over 100 Facebook friends and nearly 200 connections on LinkedIn.
Given my decorated past, I can't understand why the biographers aren't climbing over one another for the chance to write me up. That's okay, here's one budding writer who doesn't mind putting on his autobiographer cap for this month's heart-sermoned gem. Where to begin?... Where to begin? Let’s see…
Chapter One
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost… I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.
Chapter Two
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place.
But it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.
Chapter Three
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in… it’s a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.
Chapter Four
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
Chapter Five
I walk down another street.
I think that about sums things up… short, concise, and a perfect summary of my life. And only 157 words! Now this fact should be a red flag to those of you familiar with my Sermons of the Heart. As you know, I tend to be wordy. A quick statistical analysis of my Sermons would result in an average of over 4400 words per topic. My college admissions essays were a nightmare to write—not because of the 1000 word requirement, but because of the 1000 word limit. 
On the topic of limits, Lindsey has officially limited me to one page (front and back) for my annual Christmas letter—and I’m not allowed to take too many liberties with margins and fonts, the minimum font size being a 10pt Arial. She has promised to reconsider these restrictions if we ever have more than six kids, but she’s also informed me that there’s no way in purgatory that we’re having more than six children. So unless God blesses us with quadruplets, I’m stuck to that one page. And having a little more literary breathing room is not worth the cost of having to change four stinky diapers at the same time—let alone the monetary considerations of said diapers. Lucky for me, Lindsey has no jurisdiction in the world of my blog, and I can muse and ramble all I want!
If you’ve seen the movie Contact, you might have caught this great line about government spending. Says one character, “First rule in government spending: why build one when you can have two at twice the price?” I think there are a few politicians in Washington who subscribe to this line of thinking (see my Sermon to Uncle Sam). My personal mantra has nothing to do with government spending but follows the same logic, “Why say something in ten words when you can use one hundred to say the exact same thing, only in a slightly wittier and more creative way?”
So, given my wordiness (for example, the 283 words I’ve just used to explain my tendency to be wordy), you’ve surely worked out that there is nothing auto about this 157 word autobiography. This beautiful piece, however, is entitled An Autobiography in 5 Short Chapters, written by Portia Nelson. But I still contend that Ms Nelson was in fact writing a biography about me in 5 short chapters. As I said before, this biography represents a perfect summary of my life… perfect in so far as the first two or three chapters are concerned. By the end of my decorated life, I hope to live up to the final two or three chapters.
- The spend-happy politician in Washington would simply respond, “Sounds like we need to redirect a few million in Stimulus funds to take care of a few potholes. Heck! While we’re at it, let’s spend a few billion more to rip out the road and replace it with a bridge to nowhere!”
- The sue-happy lawyer? “Do you have representation? If you’ll come see my doctor, I bet he can find some other bodily or emotional injuries beyond that skinned knee…”
- My wife? “What a dork! Get out of the hole and find another road!”
- You? I don’t know you well enough yet to put words into your mouth, but if you’re still with me 1000 words into a possible 4400 (although I promise to try to keep things shorter this time), I’m betting you might also be able to relate to Portia’s supposed autobiography if you take a deep enough look at yourself.
This autobiography can apply to anyone who has ever struggled with sin, bad habits, addictions, or even failed in achieving a New Year’s resolution. The reality is that we are all creatures of habit. No matter how hard we try to seek change, we often find ourselves once again mired in the morasses of our past—those deep holes and pits that are so black and frightening—the ones we worked so hard to free ourselves from before. And yet, whether out of habit or laziness, a seemingly cruel twist of fate, or a blatant decision to return to the pits of our past, we find ourselves becoming far too acquainted with the environs of that deep black hole.
I’ll be honest. My autobiography would likely have comprised more than just 5 short chapters. Without changing the contents of chapters one and two, I might republish both chapters a few dozen times each in my autobiography to more accurately depict my life story. If there were a simple solution to instantly repair all the pits in the roads of my life, I would immediately spend any sum of money to order that As Seen on TV miracle product. I think Barbara Barrington Jones understands my sentiment in her book Feeling Great, Doing Right, Hanging Tough:
“‘Ladies over 1000 pounds, are you fat? Are you taller lying down than standing up? Do people gather on your shady side? When you come on the scene, does the scene disappear? Is your dress size junior missile? Were you born on the 8th, 9th, and 10th of March? When you step on the dog’s tail, do they have to call him beaver? When you sit down, is the person sitting next to you, you? If so, you need the new, amazing Flab-off. Just $4.98. Act now!’“We all have seen familiar ads in newspapers and magazines. ‘Watch your eyelashes grow overnight!’ ‘For longer, thicker hair, just send $7.95.’“At times all of us wish we could send off for pills, creams, and charms that would change everything bad in our lives. But it is not that simple. If something sounds too easy and effortless to be true, it probably is. The price we have to pay to reach our positive goals has very little to do with money. We must be willing to… sacrifice and work hard to obtain the results we’re after.”
Isn’t that profound? The truth is that money cannot be used to buy our positive goals. There is something of much greater worth that must be sacrificed if we wish to obtain the results we’re after in life.
A few months ago, I needed the new, amazing Flab-off. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I was 50 lbs overweight, thanks to a snack pantry at work and a year or two of unaccountability to a bathroom scale. With the holidays last December, I added to the damage and thoroughly overindulged on everything within eyesight that listed glucose, fructose, or sucrose as an ingredient. In the afterglow of my sugar-induced high, New Year’s Eve dawned and I took pen and paper in hand to write out my resolutions. I didn’t have to look in a mirror or step on a scale to know that I had some weight to lose. On the other hand, I didn’t want to join the rest of the world in setting a weight loss resolution that I would likely break when I could focus on areas of greater spiritual and emotional significance in my life. Besides, my birthday was a month off, and I am the king of getting birthday freebies. If I was going to diet, I’d have to wait until after my month-long birthday freebie jubilation.
So what happened? I deliberately avoided my bathroom scale, feeling that I didn’t have to be accountable for an overweight problem as long as I couldn’t quantify exactly how overweight I was. February 1st came and went, and my well-meant intentions of beginning the diet then were forgotten. By then, all of my other New Year’s resolutions were broken or in the process of being broken. I’m awful. I’d like to say I’m a chick magnet, but I’d more truthfully call myself a pit magnet. But I eventually did find my way out of that particular pit, even if it did take a long time.
Some friends at work initiated a Biggest Loser competition later that month. Given an external stimulus, the possibility of a prize, I sucked in my pride and my fear and I stepped on that scale. What I saw was pretty scary! I knew that I was heavier than I’d ever been before, but what I saw came as a surprise when I finally created some accountability for myself. Indeed, the first step of repentance is to admit you have a problem, to recognize where you might be wrong or misguided in your thoughts and actions. As the Savior described so well in the case of the Prodigal Son, I came to myself when I stepped on that scale. My vision was clear. My goal could now be defined.
But I’ve been here before. I recognize this deep hole. How am I going to get out and stay out? I once heard that you can form a good habit in 21 days. Where I do believe that consistent activity over a 21 day period can go a long way to rewiring our behavior, the reality is that some habits take much longer to form. And the other somber reality is that, where a good behavior can be painstakingly formed over days and days of diligence and, as J.K. Rowling’s Professor Moody would say, constant vigilance, that same habit can be broken in a single day. Just like that, you can find yourself back in the pit. This is true whether you don’t see the hole in the first place, whether you pretend it’s not there, or whether you try so hard to avoid in that falling in becomes inevitable.
In my case, overshooting 21 days, I set up a four month weight-loss program, complete with calorie counting, fruits and vegetables, a household ban on sugar, daily exercise, and, most importantly, accountability. I turned down seconds at dinner. I refused sugary treats when offered. I even froze the cinnamon roll I received for Father’s Day at church, hoping it would still taste delicious a month later—it did! Above all this, I stepped on that scale daily. I tracked my progress. I felt joy in my success. And I did everything in my power to hit my goal of 50 lbs, ultimately not caring whether that goal would earn me a prize in the work contest or not. I didn’t lose 50 lbs in the four months… I lost 55. And, thanks to my workout regimen, I was more physically fit than I’ve ever been in my adult life.
At the end of the four months, I raided my freezer for that cinnamon roll, I ate my first peanut butter sandwich in months, and I eased up on the exercise for a bit. Today, I’m asking myself if I’m on a collision course with another pit. I haven’t had to loosen my belt, but my future relationship with my bathroom scale is yet to be determined. Given my history with pits, it is crucial that I maintain accountability and ultimately find another street to walk down.
Superman’s weakness was Kryptonite. Achilles had that gimpy heel. Sampson couldn’t handle a haircut. I wish I could limit my weakness to just one tangible thing like an oddly colored rock, a body part, a color, or the mispronunciation of my last name. Unfortunately, my weaknesses are many and are not that easily defined. I may have a tendency to overindulge in scrumdiddlyumptious foods, but that is far from my greatest weakness. I wouldn’t last three seconds in the ring with the devious Lex Luthor or the cunningly beautiful Delilah.
If I listen carefully enough there in those pits of my fears and human weakness, I might hear the response of my Father through the gentle reminders of the Holy Spirit directing me to words of comfort that you might also recognize.“My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high.”
“And if thou shouldst be cast into the pit… if thou be cast into the deep… if the billowing surge conspire against theee; if fierce winds become thine enemy; if the heavens gather blackness, and all the elements combine to hedge up the way; and above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.”
“In a little wrath I hid my face from thee for a moment; but with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee… For the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed.”
“There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man; but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.”
“And he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities.”
I could go on. But there are two verses of scripture that provide the greatest comfort to me when I find myself in the pits of my soul and when I find myself looking for other pit-free streets. First, said Paul, “My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ’s sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong.”“In every condition, in sickness, in health, in poverty’s vale or abounding in wealth, at home or abroad, on the land or the sea, as thy days may demand, so thy succor shall be. When through fiery trials thy pathway shall lie, my grace, all sufficient, shall be thy supply. The flame shall not hurt thee; I only design thy dross to consume and thy gold to refine. Fear not, I am with thee, oh be not dismayed! For I am thy God and will still give thee aid. I’ll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand upheld by my righteous omnipotent hand.”
Is Paul crazy? He glories in his weaknesses? He’s not only mining for Kryptonite but he’s handing it out to his enemies! Why? Because Paul has learned firsthand, perhaps through the experiences chronicled in his autobiography of 5 short chapters, that the experience of falling into pits, clawing his way out, falling in again, and learning to find other temptation-free roads provides a hands-on lesson on the Atonement of our Lord, on grace, and on the power of redemption through Christ. It is through Paul’s weaknesses that he finds his greatest strengths.
The prophet Mormon further explained this principle in the other verse of scripture that provides comfort to me in the pits of my life. Said the Lord through Mormon, “And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”
Here is this same notion that weaknesses evolve into strengths. Now I’ve read this scripture many times over many years since I was a young man. But until facing some of the pit-filled streets I’ve travelled in my adult life, I did not understand the doctrine and the principle behind these words. When I first memorized this verse, the simple takeaway was that God gives us weaknesses to strengthen us. However, where this may partially be true, the doctrine presented here teaches something quite different.
What is humility? Sitting at the bottom of a deep, dark pit, the humility I’m feeling could well be described with words such as shame, worthless, guilt, hopeless, helpless, wretched, sinful, weak, unable, afraid. Indeed, the scriptures often refer to the homeless, the penniless, the poor, and the destitute as the humble. That means that if God wants me to be humble, he is taking out my queen, my pawns, and every other defense I have so that I will ultimately have nothing and be forced to my knees to grovel at his feet, feeling a sense of the nothingness that Moses felt after being shown the whole of creation, right?
Somehow, I can’t see this as the driving force behind a loving Heavenly Father who told us that everything He does, His work and His glory, is to bring to pass the immortality and Eternal Life of each of His children, including me. In fact, this worthless, hopeless definition of humility seems more like the way that Satan would have me view myself.
So, again, what is humility? What is this thing that God wants me to achieve so badly that He places horrible deep holes and pits in the roads of my life that are at times so difficult to avoid and escape? Recently, I was in a lesson where humility was defined as an honest assessment of oneself. In other words, the truly humble man will see himself as he truly is, or as God sees him. This humble man will recognize both his weaknesses and his strengths. He will not think he is better than his peers because of his strengths, but he will recognize them nonetheless and will praise God for those good things about him and seek to use them for righteous purposes even as he calls on God for help and grace in tackling those character weaknesses that beset him.
In returning from a mission where he was instrumental in bringing many souls to God, the humble Ammon said, “I do not boast in my own strength, nor in my own wisdom; but behold my joy is full, yea, my heart is brim with joy, and I will rejoice in my God. Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things!”
There is nothing wrong with feeling joy in our strengths when God uses them to further His work and His glory. There is nothing wrong with boasting of our God and His goodness or feeling that we can do anything and everything through Him that so loves us. The problem arises when we forget that it is through Him that we are able to do all things. The problem arises when we begin to contrast ourselves to others and to allow ourselves to judge others in relation to us.
I will never volunteer myself to play a violin solo in church, but I am happy to do so when called upon. I have been blessed with a musical talent. I play well. I am not a concert violinist. I am not a professional. However, I do play better than many other violinists I’ve encountered. I struggle to play highly technical classical symphonies and must practice a great deal to learn a part. On the other hand, I can usually sight read the music I would play in church and need little or no practice to be able to play a beautiful, Spirit-inviting hymn.
In comparing myself to other violinists as I have done here, I am not feeling any pride. This is simply an honest assessment of my abilities. I know where my talent has come from. I know how God would have me use it. I try to maintain my abilities by playing regularly in various groups. This is my humble view of a wonderful talent that God has given me.
Now let’s rewind to a Sunday of the past when I played in church and when I didn’t quite understand humility. The hymn I played was especially meaningful to me. As I was playing, I shut my eyes, and I thought the words of the hymn. I felt the Spirit so strongly that it came as a surprise when I finished because it didn’t even feel like I’d been playing. This had been a special experience, and I knew that the Lord had especially blessed my talents that day. As I packed up my instrument and went to Sunday School, I wanted others from the congregation to tell me how they felt about the number. I wanted to hear that the experience had been special for them, too. And I was approached by several. However my response to one sister, who told me that my playing was absolutely beautiful, was, “Oh, it was nothing. I missed a note or two, and I’m not that good, but I’m glad you appreciated it.”
My response to the others was similar. I was trying to be humble. But in my attempt to be humble, I was downplaying what the Spirit had gifted to me and the congregation that day. I was denying my talent and, in so doing, was chasing away that Spirit. A truly humble reaction would have embraced my strength and my talent, in a spirit of gratitude and joy for what was accomplished through it rather than any feeling of self-importance or self-degradation.
One other example: on my mission, I had a companion who spoke the Estonian language better than any other missionary hands-down. He worked his tail off every morning studying, he refused to speak English, he prayed very hard for improved ability to communicate in that language, and he was richly rewarded for his diligence. However, this Elder’s prayers bothered me. His prayers often went like this: “Heavenly Father, please help me speak this language better. I am so bad at it and am angry that I can’t speak it better. Please help me.” The more this missionary saw the areas where his ability fell short, the angrier I saw him get as he felt frustrated and inept. What he couldn’t see when he looked in the mirror was what I saw when I looked at this young man whose talent with the language I envied. He was blessed. And in answer to his prayers, his talents improved. But he never saw that improvement. He only saw the shortcomings and the holes in his abilities.
Since then, I’ve had time to think about what my humble prayer might have been if I’d been in his shoes. “Father, I thank thee for the help that I’ve received in learning this language. I’ve made such great progress with thy help. And with this gift, I am trying to accomplish thy purposes in this country. I know that I have much still to learn. And I know that this added ability will enable me to better serve thee and these people. Please help me improve my abilities as I do everything in my power to study and learn.”
It’s easy for me to think of how this companion might have shown more humility in his prayers. But what other areas of my life feature either strengths or weaknesses where I am just like my companion, struggling to be humble, but showing more pride than humility in my prayers. How is it possible to be prideful when we are belittling ourselves in an attempt at humility? Spencer W. Kimball defined pride as follows, “The central feature of pride is enmity—enmity toward God and enmity toward our fellowmen. Enmity means ‘hatred toward, hostility to, or a state of opposition.’ It is the power by which Satan wishes to reign over us. Pride is essentially competitive in nature. We pit our will against God’s. When we direct our pride toward God, it is in the spirit of ‘my will and not thine be done.’”
Did you catch those words? Enmity, hostility, hatred, state of opposition? As we seek to strengthen our talents, do we find ourselves in opposition to or feeling enmity toward our fellow man, judging them or allowing ourselves to feel puffed up in our strengths? As we seek to tackle our weaknesses, we might seek to overcome them our way on our time table. That, however, is shows enmity toward or an opposition to God’s will. He gave us weakness so that we might be humble, so that we might learn to rely on Him and His will. He gives us strengths so that men can see our good works and glorify our Father in Heaven.
As we seek to climb out of our pits and avoid those that lie in wait before us, we must beware of pride. The pits are there to teach us humility. The promised reward is that those weaknesses can become strengths, only when we have shown faith and become humble, seeing ourselves, our flaws, and our strengths as God sees them.
Now if you’re on a different road than me, you might not see quite so many pits before you. Does this mean you have no longer have weaknesses? No. Through Mormon, the Lord told us that if we ask Him, He will show us our weaknesses. He can help us come to ourselves, as did the Prodigal Son, so that we can find the next thing to work on. There is no shortage of areas that we might improve, and it is part of our life’s purpose to find these and work on them through the power of the Atonement and the grace of our Master. One day we will find a road without pits, without temptations or trials. We will become perfect as Christ, or our Father who in Heaven is perfect. But this will only be possible because of the many roads and pits we’ve traversed that helped us to become humble so that we might see ourselves as He sees us, and as Moroni wrote of Christ’s second coming, “that when he shall appear we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is; that we may have this hope; that we may be purified even as he is pure.” How can we hope to see him as he is if we can’t first see ourselves as we are.
And so, like Paul and Mormon, I, too, will glory in my weakness and in my infirmities, knowing that when I am weak, then am I strong. And as I learn humility through my weakness, I am learning to see myself as I am so that I can one day see Christ as He is and join Him in a heavenly home on high.
Be thou humble in thy weakness, and the Lord thy God shall lead thee,
Shall lead thee by the hand and give thee answer to thy prayers.
Be thou humble in thy pleading, and the Lord thy God shall bless thee,
Shall bless thee with a sweet and calm assurance that he cares.
Be thou humble in thy calling, and the Lord thy God shall teach thee
To serve his children gladly with a pure and gentle love.
Be thou humble in thy longing, and the Lord thy God shall take thee,
Shall take thee home at last to ever dwell with him above.
