The Life I Must Live

Another poem of mine, written on November 20, 2010.

The Life I Must Live

By Liz Montgomery

Father, tell me the story of life so sweet,

The life I must live in order to meet

Thee at Thy Heav’nly throne above

And be encircled by Thy love.

I know I sin, I know I fall,

And yet I constantly hear Thy call,

“Go thy way and sin no more.

Ask and knock, I’m at the door.”

The blood of Christ has set me free.

He is the reason I can be

Worthy of Thy love each day,

Justified at Judgment Day.

Worthy?—what is worthiness?

Do I truly deserve all of this?

The guidance, blessings, love divine,

Eternal riches can be mine.

And what must I do? Just live the way

That makes me happy anyway.

To try to pay Thee back is vain,

Yet I hope my efforts never wane.

Why are You so good to me?

What is in me Thou dost see?

What have I done to earn Thy love,

Descending on me like a dove?

Given, not earned, is the gift of grace;

This causes my soul to be abased.

Nothing I do would satisfy

Without Thy Son to sanctify.

O my Bridegroom, I am Thy wife;

Thou art my living waters and bread of life.

I submit to Thee, my loyal Shepherd,

And with Thee is my salvation secured.

Submission to the will of God,

Repentance when my soul is flawed,

Reliance on my great Redeemer,

A faithful, loving, meek demeanor,

Love my God with all my heart,

To my brethren I must impart.

This is the life that I must live

To receive the grace of God He’ll give.

The Statistics Game (Gay Mormons)

The following letter was written by me and published in the BYU newspaper on May 14, 2012 (find it here). The article that prompted it ("Logical fallacy") can be found here, and the video that started it all is right here:

I know the issue has kind of died down a bit at BYU, but I wanted to make sure a copy of this got on my blog. Enjoy!

The Statistics Game

This is in response to “Logical fallacy” (4/23), which asserted the illogicality of applying the national homosexuality statistic to BYU, as seen in the “It Gets Better” video.

In my own research, I found some other enlightening statistics. When the international averages are applied to BYU,approximately 100 percent of BYU students are mortal. 100 percent of us are tempted by Satan, 100 percent sin, 100 percent are (100 percent) dependent upon the Atonement of Jesus Christ and 100 percent of us can overcome temptation and repent because of that Atonement. If 6 of that 100 percent happen to be tempted by homosexual feelings, then so be it.

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland stated, “Same-gender attraction is not a sin, but acting on those feelings is.” Replace “same-gender attraction” with any consideration of sin, and you’ve now placed everyone on a level playing field and bridged the infamous gap between “us” and “them.” In this world, and especially within the Church, it’s not us versus them; it’s all of us versus Satan. Until we appreciate and act upon that truth, we will continue to do what the father of contention has always wanted — for us to fight against ourselves so that he doesn’t have to.

Imagine a world where we could help our brothers and sisters withstand homosexual temptation as freely as we help one another withstand every other temptation. Imagine a world where we could “lift up the hands which hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees,” regardless of which burdens caused those hands and knees to tremble. Instead of fighting one another with the devil’s weapons of pride and judgment, let’s fight our true enemy with the godly weapon that never faileth — charity.

Whether there are 1,800 BYU students fighting the homosexual battle or only 18, it’s worth an increase in kindness from all of us. Satan is our real enemy, and it is going to take 100 percent of us to defeat him — yes, even those 6 percent who are tempted by homosexuality. We need them, and they need us. Shall we not go on in so great a cause?

LIZ MONTGOMERY

Beggars and Sinners

If I could pick one theme for the last post (It's Not Her Fault), it would be judging others versus loving them. It's an important principle, and so in order to appeal to a larger audience, I specifically steered away from any LDS (Latter-day Saint [Mormon]) jargon when writing it. This post, however, will contain an LDS perspective of a few of the same principles.

The most applicable scripture passage I've found in regards to this is Mosiah 4:16-25 in the Book of Mormon. Even though it was written primarily about beggars and how we ought to treat them, it's also extremely applicable to those who are needy not just in the physical realm but also spiritually, morally, and even socially. If we read the passage in relation to sinners instead of beggars, it brings a whole new perspective. (If you're familiar with the last post, we're talking about the "Nadia"s in the world.)

Speaking of when we're truly following the gospel...

16 And also, ye yourselves will succor those that stand in need of your succor; ye will administer of your [spiritual gifts] unto him that standeth in need; and ye will not suffer that the [sinner] putteth up his petition to you in vain, and turn him out to [spiritually] perish.

 And here's where we often fall short:

17 Perhaps thou shalt say: The man has brought upon himself his misery; therefore I will stay my hand, and will not give unto him of my [love and respect], nor impart unto him of [the gospel] that he may not suffer, for his punishments are just—

18 But I say unto you, O man, whosoever doeth this the same hath great cause to repent; and except he repenteth of that which he hath done he perisheth forever, and hath no interest in the kingdom of God.

In my opinion, this is teaching that judging isn't just a bad idea, it's a sin we're expected to repent of (and repentance means change). Why is the Lord so harsh here? Because if we do what's in verse 17, we're basically asking for what's in verse 18. Matthew 7:2 - "For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again." If we want justice, we'll get justice alright. Perhaps God shalt say: You have brought upon yourself your misery; therefore I will stay my hand, and will not give unto you of my love, nor impart unto you of the Atonement that you may not suffer, for your punishments are just.

Actually, God won't say that. Ever. Because even though we do bring upon ourselves misery, and our punishments are just, He lives by a higher law. He lives by infinite love and mercy. And just to make sure we understand how wholly we rely on those gifts from Him, the sermon continues in verse 19:

19 For behold, are we not all beggars? Do we not all depend upon the same Being, even God, for all the substance which we have, for both food and raiment, and for gold, and for silver, and for all the riches which we have of every kind?

Are we not all beggars?

The physically needy lack food, clothing, and money.

The socially needy lack friends, social skills, and opportunities.

The morally needy lack empathy, perspective, and willpower.

The spiritually needy lack faith, hope, and charity.

How many of those things do you have? Are you willing to admit that they're all from the Lord? I never thought I'd quote Obama in the middle of a spiritual lecture, but I firmly believe that if you have any or all of those resources, traits, or abilities, "You didn't build that. Somebody else made that happen." And that Somebody was the Lord, through every good thing that's ever happened in your life.

This idea led me to a interesting realization: The reason it's so difficult to admit that OTHERS aren't fully responsible for the FAILURE in their lives is because you must also admit that YOU aren't fully responsible for the SUCCESS of your life. In other words, if you think that you're the one who got yourself to the great place in life that you're at (with physical resources, social skills, a straight moral compass, and spiritual gifts), then you have no choice but to also believe that those who lack those things got themselves to their situation as well. But on the other hand, if you humble yourself and recognize how completely dependent you are on the Lord for everything, and also how often the Lord has worked through others to help you achieve success, then you start to see others as loved ones to help instead of failures to condemn. We start to treat others like the Lord treats us.

In case this has got you wondering, "Well, am I really that dependent on the Lord?", King Benjamin has some more words for you:

20 And behold, even at this time, ye have been calling on his name, and begging for a remission of your sins. And has he suffered that ye have begged in vain? Nay; he has poured out his Spirit upon you, and has caused that your hearts should be filled with joy, and has caused that your mouths should be stopped that ye could not find utterance, so exceedingly great was your joy.

21 And now, if God, who has created you, on whom you are dependent for your lives and for all that ye have and are, doth grant unto you whatsoever ye ask that is right, in faith, believing that ye shall receive, O then, how ye ought to impart of the substance that ye have one to another.

All that we have and are is from the Lord. All of it. And if we're here to do the Lord's work, then we ought to be helping our brothers and sisters have more and become more as well.

The last few verses in this section reiterate the punishment of disobeying these principles of love and mercy toward others. Verse 23 in particular ought to hit home for many.

22 And if ye judge the man who putteth up his petition to you for your substance that he perish not, and condemn him, how much more just will be your condemnation for withholding your substance, which doth not belong to you but to God, to whom also your life belongeth; and yet ye put up no petition, nor repent of the thing which thou hast done.

23 I say unto you, wo be unto that man, for his substance shall perish with him; and now, I say these things unto those who are rich as pertaining to the things of this world.

Are you one of the "rich as pertaining to the things of this world"? To find out, take a quick inventory from the short list I already supplied. I'll ask again, how many of these do you have?

• Food, clothing, money
• Friends, social skills, opportunities
• Empathy, perspective, willpower
• Faith, hope, charity

You may find that you're richer than you think.

The final thing I'll mention here is regarding the other half of verse 23. If we don't share these many riches with others, "[our] substance shall perish with [us]"; our one talent will be taken from us because we buried it instead of doing the Lord's work with it. The success that we think we earned will be taken from us, or at least won't be as enduring as it would be with the Lord. However, if we use them to "succor the weak, lift up the hands which hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees" (D&C 81:5), regardless of what realm they're weak in, then we will be able to multiply our talents and bless others like the Lord blesses us.

President Ezra Taft Benson once said the following:

"Men and women who turn their lives over to God will discover that

He can make a lot more out of their lives than they can. He will

 deepen their joys,

expand their vision,

quicken their minds,

strengthen their muscles,

lift their spirits,

multiply their blessings,

increase their opportunities,

comfort their souls,

raise up friends, and

pour out peace.

 Whoever will lose his life in the service of God will find eternal life."

Let us do for others what God so willingly does for us.

It's Not Her Fault

Drama at the Orphanage

From January to April 2012, I did an internship in Romania volunteering in an orphanage and children's hospital. One morning in the orphanage, things were even more out of control than normal. A 2.5-year-old girl named Nadia*, who is confined to a wheelchair due to being born without hips and who's known for notoriously naughty behavior, was pestering another girl, 3.5-year-old Laura*. Laura has almost no control of her body and spends her time in a high chair, with a scarf tied around her and the chair so she doesn't fall out of it.

This particular morning, Nadia rolled her chair over to Laura and began untying the scarf. Another intern, Kevin, repeatedly told her to stop, but when no one was looking, Nadia successfully untied it, sending Laura careening to the ground from 4-5 feet up. Laura hit the ground hard and began crying and screaming, the workers were yelling, and Nadia was immediately sent to her crib, bawling because of all the commotion and not understanding why she was at the center of it.

When things settled down, the other interns and I were sitting in the room talking about it. One of the other interns** began to complain about how bad Nadia is and how difficult it is to work with her. Before really even thinking about it, I replied, "It's not her fault." My friend looked at me baffled and retorted, "What do you mean it's not her fault? She was the one that pulled the scarf after Kevin told her over and over again not to. That's why Laura fell!" It was true, but still I replied, "She didn't know that pulling the scarf would make Laura fall. And when I said, 'It's not her fault,' I meant it in a broader sense. It's not her fault that she was born without hips so she's confined to a wheelchair. It's not her fault that she was abandoned and that she's been brought up in a place where it's so difficult to develop social competence. It's not her fault that she's a 'brat.'"

I can't remember what my friend's reaction was, but I remember being surprised at my own response, especially since I had considered Nadia a terror for so long as well. But sometime in the course of those few months (and gradually in the last few years), I had discovered something crucial which changed the way I saw Nadia and the world: one, that I have no good reason not to love her, and two, that I was able and obligated to help her.

*Names have been changed for the sake of privacy

**Who I harbor no ill feelings toward for this or anything else
 

Who Untied the Scarf?

To make this concept more applicable, consider human nature for a minute: when we see a crime, we look for a criminal, and most of the time we find one. We see Nadia pull the scarf, so to speak. Once we find the criminal, we pronounce blame and deliver punishment (sending her to her crib), and rightfully so. But here's the interesting thing: behind that criminal is a human being with a history full of aspects we don't see. We don't see Nadia's years in a deprived orphanage with uneducated (albeit well-meaning) workers, we don't see her mother abandoning her, and we don't see her mother struggling to support an impoverished family in the midst of a country torn to pieces by a hellish dictator. All we want to know is who untied the scarf.

Take a more serious example: we see a man who killed two people. We pronounced blame, delivered punishment, sent him to death row, and probably rightfully so. But how many people saw him "malnourished and wandering the streets alone in a diaper" at the age of 2 because his alcoholic father abandoned him? Or what about when he was sexually abused by his siblings as a child, when he became addicted to drugs and alcohol by age 10, or when he was sold into prostitution by his pedophile foster father as a teenager? Say hello to Ronnie Lee Gardner, one of the many infamous "Nadia"s in the world. And then say goodbye to him, because he was executed in 2010.

Ronnie Lee Gardner

"It's not his fault."

"What do you mean it's not his fault? He was the one that pulled the trigger after the laws told him over and over again not to. That's why those people are dead!"

But then I see that starving 2-year-old boy, wandering the streets alone in a diaper, and things don't add up quite so easily.

Running in Circles

When I said that I have no good reason not to love Nadia, it applies to Gardner and those similar to him as well. How could I possibly love a murderer? This is best answered using the following fictional yet realistic timeline in which each step is the primary reason for the next:

1. Child is born with a difficult temperament.
2. Mother finds it too difficult to properly care for the child.
3. Child develops an insecure attachment.
4. Child begins school and is aggressive and socially incompetent.
5. Peers and teacher reject child.
6. Child dislikes school and is prevented opportunities to improve social competence.
7. Child performs poorly in school and seeks out peers who are similar.
8. Child's socially incompetent and antisocial behaviors are reinforced.
9. Child engages in delinquent behaviors as a child, adolescent, and adult.

As I thought about this timeline, I wondered, "Where along the way did this child become undeserving of my love?" If I let behaviors determine my love, I run into a problem: do I stop loving them (a) when they cry too much as a newborn, (b) when they're an aggressive kindergartener, (c) when they're a delinquent teenager, or (d) when they're a criminal adult? It was like I was drawing a line, trying to spot the points where good stopped and evil started, but in the end I was tracing a circle. Because as hard as I tried, I couldn't separate #9-∞ from #1-8, and if the child deserved my love at #1, they deserved it all the way to #∞. That's when I realized (and decided) that it's not behaviors--where the circle begins and where it ends--that determine my love for others. It's the circle itself. It is the human being that I love, in all of its complexity and glory, and behind every Nadia is that important human being.

Another interesting thing I found is that the ones who most need our love and attention are those least likely to receive it: the socially awkward, the arrogant, the aggressive, the delinquent, the mentally ill--basically all those who we have a tendency to look down upon or avoid. They're often on a perpetually negative trajectory that will not be changed unless caring and socially competent people like you and I help them change it. But this will only happen when we stop drawing circles and start loving them--stop condemning people and start helping them.

The Blame Game vs. The Change Game

Now, to clarify what I mean by being able and obligated to help Nadia, let's go back to Gardner. After hearing his history and crimes, there arises the question: was his punishment just? Or to ask it in a slightly different way, how much was he really to blame? They're definitely interesting questions, and in my mind, there's two ways to approach this: playing the Blame Game and playing the Change Game.

If you're looking to play the Blame Game, this post has probably made things a whole lot more complicated; suddenly things aren't so clear and you don't know how to divvy out the blame anymore. However, if you're interested in the Change Game, a thousand new avenues just opened up for you to make a positive difference. The rules are simple. The Blame Game ends in blame; the Change Game ends in change. The Blame Game never involves yourself as a player; the Change Game always does.

To play the Blame Game, we would go back and forth and allot various amounts of blame on Gardner himself, the abusers of his youth, his immediate family, their abusers, his extended family, probably society (and politics--there's always politics), and so forth, until we can sit back in our chairs and be satisfied. And why are we satisfied? Because we reached a conclusion that didn't involve us. If there's no blame, there's no guilt, no remorse, and no reason to change, so we can continue to live our comfortable lives in peace.

The problem with those players is that their conclusion is incorrect, because everything involves us. In fact, the whole Blame Game is built on the premise that either (1) we are incapable of controlling outcomes and effecting positive change, or (2) we don't need to, both of which I believe are dangerously false. (Hence my belief that I'm able and obligated to help Nadia.)

The other option we have is the Change Game, which, instead of asking "Who's to blame?" begs the question, "What can I do to change things?" Suddenly you're placed in the middle of all the important players. You go into a profession designed to teach, uplift, or protect people. You vote on legislation to improve the lives of those in your community and country. You're kind to others and go out of your way to make sure people are doing well. You give resources to the physically needy, time and a listening ear to the socially needy, and love and respect to the morally needy. You encourage your friends and your children to do the same.

And as you do these things, something incredible (and incredibly scary) happens. Suddenly Gardner is your student and you could teach him that he's worth something. You're his neighbor and you could report the abuse that's happening next door. You're the stranger on the bus who befriends him and realizes how desperate he needs help, and you could give that to him. And as exciting as that is, it is terrifying. Because unlike the fat cats playing the Blame Game, you're now incredibly vulnerable and potentially accountable. There's guilt, remorse, and every reason to change, and you are forced to choose between a comfortable life and a better world. But how does this game end, if you decide to keep playing? Change in yourself, others, and the world as a whole.

When we see ourselves in the midst of everything, with all sorts of "Nadia"s in our realm of influence, it's obvious that we can at least somewhat control outcomes and create positive change. But what about the second premise, that we're obligated to do so? The truth is, people have questioned this for ages, most notably the one who defensively asked, "Am I my brother's keeper?" Even among those who answer yes to that, reasons vary. One that stands out to me is derived from the mantra "with great power comes great responsibility." If we accept the fact that we have power to improve our world, we must also accept the responsibility to do so. If not for Nadia and Gardner, then at least for their victims. It's really just an extrapolation of the Golden Rule; instead of telling an individual, "I will treat you like I would want to be treated," you're telling the world, "I will make you a better place so that people are treated the way I would want to be treated." And you have the power to do that.

Your Move

I didn't write this post to rant about murderers and Romanian orphans. I did this to take my turn in the Change Game, and now I want you to make your move. I encourage you to embrace your power and responsibility to improve the world, even at the risk of admitting vulnerability and accountability. Resist the urge to play the relaxing yet destructive Blame Game and plunge wholeheartedly into the challenging and adventurous Change Game. And as you and I do these things together, I'm positive that we can actually make a difference. We may never know how many Laura incidents we prevented, how much sadness and anger we eradicated because of our actions. Nor will we fully comprehend the goodness that we helped to foster. But it'll be there. We reap what we sow, and if we sow this change in ourselves, the world will surely reap the benefits.