I do not know the nature of all things. I don’t even know if there’s a God who loves his children. But in my little life so far, I’ve come to accept some things. Pure love contains all the joys AND aches of human existence. Sorrow has taught me about love: I have learned compassion, empathy, as I mourn for myself and others, and WITH others who *mourn. It is purifying. And that, I suppose, is the goal in my life, to dwell in, to be a vessel for, pure love.

If a God (of love) does exist, I would imagine that god is as much a god of joy as of sorrow.

*and laughing with those who laugh – let’s not forget the purifying effects of sincere laughter!

Here’s a passage that continues to help me as I struggle with my own inadequacies, including those regarding my limited knowledge of the nature of Heavenly Father, and my struggle to give my whole will to Him. It’s long, but I couldn’t leave anything out. I hope it helps, if even just a little!

“Of course we never wanted, and never asked, to be made into the sort of creatures He is going to make us into. But the question is not what we intended ourselves to be, but what He intended us to be when He made us. He is the inventor, we are only the machine. He is the painter, we are only the picture. How should we know what He means us to be like?…We may be content to remain what we call “ordinary people”: but He is determined to carry out a quite different plan. To shrink back from that plan is not humility; it is laziness and cowardice. To submit to it is not conceit or megalomania; it is obedience.

“Here is another way of putting the two sides of the truth. On the one hand we must never imagine that our own unaided efforts can be relied on to carry us even through the next twenty-four hours as “decent” people. If He does not support us, not one of us is safe from some gross sin. On the other hand, no possible degree of holiness or heroism which has ever been recorded of the greatest saints is beyond what He is determined to produce in every one of us in the end. The job will not be completed in this life: but He means to get us as far as possible before death.

“That is why we must not be surprised if we are in for a rough time. When a man turns to Christ and seems to be getting on pretty well (in the sense that some of his bad habits are now corrected), he often feels that it would now be natural if things went fairly smoothly. When troubles come along—illnesses, money troubles, new kinds of temptation—he is disappointed. These things, he feels, might have been necessary to rouse him and make him repent in his bad old days; but why now? Because God is forcing him on, or up, to a higher level: putting him into situations where he will have to be very much braver, or more patient, or more loving, than he ever dreamed of being before. It seems to us all unnecessary: but that is because we have not yet had the slightest notion of the tremendous thing He means to make of us…

“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of—throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.

“The command Be ye perfect is not idealistic gas. Nor is it a command to do the impossible. He is going to make us into creatures that can obey that command. He said (in the Bible) that we were ‘gods’ and He is going to make good His words. If we let Him – for we can prevent Him, if we choose – He will make the feeblest and filthiest of us into a god or goddess, a dazzling, radiant, immortal creature, pulsating all through with such energy and joy and wisdom and love as we cannot imagine, a bright stainless mirror which reflects back to God perfectly (though, of course, on a smaller scale) His own boundless power and delight and goodness. The process will be long and in parts very painful, but that is what we are in for. Nothing less. He meant what He said.” -Mere Christianity, 108-109

Thoughts?

When one faces their demons this isn’t done in a day. It is done day after day after day after day until the battle is won… or lost.

Even Jesus Christ asked the Father to let this cup pass from him. Even in perfection he didn’t want to do something, thats natural, he obeyed anyway… and if we read in 3 Nephi when he came back, after doing that hard and painful thing that he would’ve rather not done. He still taught the same things he did before.

Being a parent has caused me to think more about God’s nature. The result of that is that I am not sure that God directs as much of the detail in our lives as we would sometimes like to think.

I have met happy people who had some pretty ugly things in their lives. I have met very happy non-religous people. I have met miserable religious people.

I believe that happiness, or that sense of well being, has more to do with emotional resilience than anything else. For some people emotional resilience is dependent on a religious faith. For others it might be something else. For some people emotional resilience can be beaten down by religious dogma.

I believe that one can find the well being and happiness even if they don’t find all the answers.

Emotionally, I’ve felt exactly the same way. I’ve been so mad at God. I realized one day, though, that the bad things aren’t God’s will. They’re contrary to God’s will and usually happen because of somebody’s disobedience.

For instance, my horrible childhood. If my parents had chosen not to drink and abuse each other and us, that never would have happened.

The deaths of my first husband and son happened because we were drunk and careless of our child.

James’ suicide—my abusiveness toward him, chiefly.

I also realized that as I mourn for the lives of my children, each one of them can make their lives better if they make better decisions.

So, although that talk was offensive to you, and I wonder if it was a self righteous tone in the speaker, he was right.

Not that I implement that philisophy.

But I’ve felt exactly the same way as you. So betrayed and bitter and angry at God. Then I just started thinking He just didn’t like us.

Now I think we’re suffering for the mistakes of generations and I wonder where the buck stops.

In darkness sometimes we see light and in light sometimes we see darkness. When I walk through the ashen forests of darkness and my soul shakes and wavers in iridescent purple night, sometimes I ask myself why I wander and has the lord forsaken my calls. Sitting in sacraments listening to sounds of joy and laughter, I feel even more alone.

At times I feel when he is near, the warmth of his being. Him walking my footsteps and being sullen and sad as I am. Nights are long and thoughts to my mind dangerous. After the wars and battles sound into fading silence, in my guilt shame and horror I feel him. Like a brother waiting for my return, he says to me after taking me into his arms, the battle was hard, I know I was there. I do not want to return to fight again, but I know I must because I love him and as I return into the smoke filled world I know he is with me and in his loving arms I will return again.

Centuries may pass, love can be taken away, and tears can carve rivers in my cheeks but his memory cannot be lost. My hands feeling his scared hands, enveloped and embraced by his light. Looking in his eyes and standing amongst him hearing him speak again. Knowing no matter what I do or which road I travel that he is love and that I am never alone.

I cannot know your sorrow and I do not feel your pain, neither can I know your heart. What I can say is the he can and no matter the trial or afflictions set by the father or this world you will never be alone. Sometimes even I forget and get confused but his compassion always brings me solace. Fight, suffer, cry, laugh, and have joy but always remember you are loved greatly.

Doesn’t really answer any of your questions about why somebody you feel loves you puts you in places and situations you would rather not be in but in my case I am stubborn and my heart is like cast iron. I hate English but my school always made me take English classes, supposedly for my benefit no matter how much I balked and complained. English to me is like slow torture, math always made sense and the answers were always the same. I couldn’t be who I am without those nasty English teachers always hating on my math teachers

I understand. A void like that is hard. Hang in there (again, sounds trite, but I don’t mean it that way). I hope as you keep pounding on the doors of heaven that moments of clarity can come.

I’m trying to tell myself, despite my difficulties, that even when things don’t work out, that risk is worth it.

Interesting stuff, this life/faith thing. Whew.

m&m, thank-you for your response. I really like what you’ve shared, and I think there’s a lot of truth to it (and your insight is applicable to my experience). I think that painful experiences can teach us important lessons about ourselves and about God, and that the pain is sometimes necessary to become better versions of ourselves. As Lynnette said, it’s important to think about how meaning can be preferable over happiness, and I think that’s generally the case for me (though I’ve certainly wished for more happiness and less meaning in my worst moments).

I guess what I’m struggling with is something that Lynnette discussed. I’ve actually found some meaning in my experiences the past few years that is helping me. There are certain things that are making sense to me, and I see how my experiences have made me a stronger, better person. But there are hard, difficult things in which I cannot find meaning. Or the meaning is utterly confusing (and the implications scary). And these are things that directly involve how God is involved in my life, which is the thing in my life that has been the most constant and meaningful up to this point in my life.

I do realize that I may end up finding some kind of meaning, but as Lynnette said, my faith in a certain kind of meaning (because of what I’ve been taught about God–who He is and how He interacts with us)–is what’s causing me the most difficulties right now. And I’m really open to finding meaning in my pain, but at least for right now, that meaning is not apparent. I just have pain and a confusing mess.

Lynnette, I like your comment that faith is a real risk. Like you said, we don’t often talk about that because we typically tell stories where things work out. I’m trying to tell myself, despite my difficulties, that even when things don’t work out, that risk is worth it. Some days I believe myself.