….We Seek After These Things!

by Richard
A couple of years ago, a teacher passed some of the “Corporate Impressions” motivational images and phrases around to a class that I was taking. One that stuck with me was the saying for courage. Near as I can recall, it read: “Courage does not always roar—sometimes it is that quiet voice at the end of the day that says ‘I’ll try again tomorrow.’”

About a month ago, I found myself cooking up an essay based on the Serenity Prayer (“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things that I cannot change, courage to change those things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.”) The theme in my life at the time that made this essay seem worth writing was the idea that serenity is a form of courage, and that, in this prayer, serenity certainly does not refer to acquiescence so much as the courage and ability to function when something significant is not as we would have it be.

While the Serenity Prayer is not found in scripture, manifestations of its principles are. Jesus and his disciples needed to have serenity as well as wisdom to understand that, while Roman rule was not good for Israel, it was not the greatest peril facing Israel either. David had the courage to fight Goliath when doing so defied all worldly reason. Job demonstrated the ability to discern between his circumstances and malice or punishment from God. The generally least appreciated of these virtues in our society is serenity.

On the sliding scale of acceptance of things that we cannot change, serenity strikes the perfect balance between the extremes of contingent fatalism and moral complicity. Contingent fatalism would have us believe that if we allow the condition in question to stray from our desired parameters that life will no longer be worth living and amounts to a refusal to accept said condition at all costs. This side of the scale has varying degrees of anger, suspicion and resentment towards the status quo and those viewed as responsible for it. In moral complicity, on the other hand, we shape our view of right and wrong by what seems to be most profitable for us at the time. This policy seeks opportunity in undesirable circumstances to minimize the effect of those circumstances on oneself at all cost and can be characterized by a nihilistic will to power mentality (thank you Nietzsche). Moral complicity, however, is not (perceptibly) synonymous with moral depravity, even though the two can coincide—the moral compass of the ‘sunshine patriot’ depends on which way the wind is blowing.

But enough about what not to do, the bottom line is that serenity saves life, energy and sanity, and I, for one, could use lots more of it.

At any rate, the essay was not finished, in part because it went rambling on with little direction—unimaginable for me, I know—and in part, because I watched General Conference and heard a talk on courage being at the root of every virtue, or the enabling feature that made other virtues take effect. After that talk I did not feel nearly so profound as before and scrapped that idea for a time.

That being said, the Serenity Prayer is still near and dear to my heart right now. It speaks to me not only of courage but also perspective. I have a loved one who is now suffering from chemical depression. This person is undergoing treatment, but the treatment is not currently having the desired effect. Depression is an especially heavy burden to bear, not so much because it reduces one’s energy level—any illness does that. The greater harm from depression is that it robs those who suffer from it of their perspective on life. They have abnormal difficulty not only seeing things as they really are, as they really were and as they really will be, but also seeing themselves in any kind light. Over time, the dearth of perspective begins to affect my view of what can be changed and what cannot. I have days when I want to be able to give this person a cup of my perspective and help them to see themselves as God sees them, like I was once able to do, but I have difficulty penetrating the mists of darkness that have shrouded the eyes and heart of my loved one. On other days, I can’t see a bright future through the gloom either, even though I know that it is there.

Through it all, I strive to cling to that belief that “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” Even when I can keep a brightness of hope, there are still many questions that remain. How much longer, Lord? What lack I yet? Is it my faith that fails or the medicine and science? Is it a matter of time until trial and patience have worked on me to grow wisdom that I don’t yet possess? Is this a hill that we must summit or a lifelong burden to make us stronger?

I don’t have the answers yet. I still see through the glass darkly. I just have hope and a little voice that whispers at the end of the day, “I’ll try again tomorrow.”