"I'm fine" - the dangers of Church Face

fine1

/fīn/

adverb, informal

1. In a satisfactory or pleasing manner; very well. see also: the lies we tell each other

I think the word fine may be one of most misused words in the English language. There was a time when if you said, "I'm fine", you meant you were actually doing fine and everything was going well. But now? Not so much.

I get it. We don't want to let people into our bubbles. We don't want to let down walls and show that we are humans, with emotions and all that...stuff. But being fine must be one of the biggest lies that we tell to the people closest to us.

Why are we fine?

If you google "fine meme" (which I totally did not do before writing this blog...), a lot of the images that pop up have to do with women saying (but not meaning) "I'm fine". From my observation, though, men and women both put on a face that they present to people, a face that often does not accurately represent our state of being.

Why do we put on a face? I think part of it is that we're afraid to be vulnerable around other people. Sometimes, that's justified. Our raw emotions, our genuine fears and thoughts and struggles, don't deserve to be cast about lightly. Some people are not safe people to be open around. This post is not about those people. This is about the ones who really do want to know how we are. The ones who want the truth, and want very much to treat our feelings with care. The ones we shut out when we answer the question of "How are you doing with?" with "Fine."

I'm sure someone who has studied psychology could form a more professional opinion than my own. But from my limited years on earth observing human nature, I've come to find that fine can mean a lot of things. Fine can mean:

"I'm tired and I don't have the emotional energy to hash out the particulars of what I'm feeling right now."

"I don't even know what I'm feeling, it's so jumbled and confused that I can't even make sense of it to me, let alone another person."

"I've been hurt by your actions, and I question the sincerity of your asking me how I am, and I'm going to wait until I have a better idea of your intentions before I answer you sincerely."

"I'm not fine. I'm in pain and scared and I want help, but I don't know how to ask for it and I feel like a burden when I do."

"I don't know you well enough to know if you are a safe person to share my feelings around, and I've been hurt in the past when I shared with the wrong person."

"I don't think you can possibly understand what I'm going through, and trying to explain it to yet another person is too emotionally tiring."

"Admitting that things aren't fine will show weakness, and if I show weakness, everything is going to crumble in my life. I have to present a strong front to everyone, including myself."

Those are just a few - the list can go on and on. Fine has become the tip of the emotional iceberg, much like anger.

Putting on our Church Face

So what's the problem with putting on a face? Why is this such a big deal? More importantly, what does this have to do with the LDS religion?

If you walk into a congregation, and you take a superficial look at the people there, you're likely to come to the conclusion that everyone has their stuff together. Children are sitting in rows, well behaved and listening to the speakers, singing the hymns. Families are intact, husbands and wives love each other and their children, everyone is together forever. Every mom is Supermom, creating Pinterest-worthy cakes and making toilet paper rolls into beautiful wall art. Every family is well off, without financial worry or heartache or brokenness. That might be the conclusion that you come to, looking around.

And it would all be a lie.

People in that congregation are no strangers to heartache, brokenness, abuse, addiction, poverty, mental illness, disease, divorce, or anything else that humans suffer through on earth. But when we go to Church, when we worship on Sunday, so often we put on our Church Face. We want so much to look "normal", we want to look like we've got it all together, just for a moment, so that people don't see that brokenness and that pain. Maybe if we can make it look like that from the outside, we can forget what it's like on the inside, right? Maybe if we make it look good on the outside, maybe that will start to soak in on the inside. Maybe we can become normal too, like everyone else. But we aren't. And neither is anyone else. And that is okay.

The gospel is for the broken, not the whole

In Luke chapter five, Christ and his disciples go and eat at the house of Levi, a publican. In the times of Christ, a publican was basically a Roman tax collector. They collaborated with the Romans, and because of that, along with a slew of other issues, they were hated by the Jewish authorities and considered to be sinners, unworthy of spending time with anyone but their own kind (ask yourself, how much do you love the IRS?). Yet Christ went to them, and ate at a feast with not just Levi, but "a great company of publicans". So the scribes and the Pharisees come to the disciples and ask them, "What are you doing? Why are you keeping company with these awful people? If you are bringing salvation to our people, the people of the covenant, why are you wasting your time with them?" Christ's answer teaches us in one sentence the whole purpose of the gospel: "And Jesus answering said unto them, They that are whole need not a physician; but they that are sick" (Luke 5:31).

There it is, in Christ's own words. He doesn't want us to come to Him because we're perfect. He doesn't expect us to have it all together. He wants us to come to Him in our brokenness and be healed. Because those who are whole don't need a physician. Those who have their stuff together, who have a Pinterest-perfect life all the time, who have the perfect family with the perfect children and the perfect house and the perfect life, they don't need Christ.

And they don't exist either, so that's convenient.

The truth of the matter is that what we see on the surface, or rather, what we think we see, isn't the reality. Those perfect children are just children. They talk back, they do dumb things, they fight like cats and dogs and refuse to do chores and go astray, just like other children. Those perfect families are just families. They might be second or third marriages, or marriages that have struggled through addiction, or they might be struggling to keep their marriage together for something other than their children. Those perfect lives are just lives. Broken lives, hurting lives, lives that need healing and hope and love. More than anything, love.

We aren't perfect. We are sick. We are broken. We need His healing.

What to do?

What can we do then?

First, we can put off the Church Face. I'm not saying we need to stand up and loudly declare everything that's going wrong in our lives. But we can stop trying to make it seem like our lives are perfect and that nothing is wrong. We can be honest about our struggles. We can express our fears, and our hopes, and our difficulties. We can let others know they aren't alone because we're here, struggling right beside them. When I've opened up about my struggles with depression, I have found that far more people struggle with it than I ever would have realized on the surface. Sharing our struggles opens our eyes to all the fellow travelers on the same journey.

Second, we can really get to know people and create a safe place for opening up. No one is going to want to open up if we haven't spent any time learning who they are. We need to have a genuine interest in the people around us who are coming here to be healed by Christ too. We need to make Church a safe place for sharing. We need others to feel that this is a place where they can share struggles, share deep emotions, and come away feeling healed and not hurt.

Third, we can act instead of just ask. Instead of simply asking how someone is doing, we can offer specific actions. We can observe and see what is needed and offer help accordingly. We can ask what we can do, instead of asking how they are doing. And yes, sometimes the help we offer will be refused. But sometimes, what someone needs is not another person wanting an explanation, but someone offering help. A hug. A commiseration. Advice. Whatever might be wanted or needed.

We're not fine. And that's okay. We're not whole. And that's okay. We don't have it all together. And that is okay. Christ wants us as we are. He wants us to come, broken, hurting, and falling apart, so that He can heal us. So that He can make us whole. So that He can work in our hearts, change us, and use us to reach out to the children who are still hurting.

The whole don't need The Physician. We do.

Help thou my unbelief

For a while now, I've felt like I really ought to write some new blog posts. I kept putting it off, and putting it off, but now it's been three years and I really don't think I can put it off any longer without risking some sort of "angel Moroni not letting me sleep at night" kind of experience.

There are a lot of thoughts that have been running around in my head, but for this post I wanted to focus on a short scripture story from Mark chapter 9. In it, a man brings his son, who is afflicted with seizures that threaten his life, to Jesus to be healed. The man explains to Christ that he had previously brought the boy to the disciples of Jesus, but they were unable to heal him. He begs Christ to heal the boy, and Christ responds, "If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth." The man, desperate for his child to be healed, cries out, "Lord I believe; help thou mine unbelief."

This scripture has always been meaningful to me. There is power behind the father's desperate plea for Christ to help. But this scripture became even more poignant when I watched the video Finding Faith in Christ. The video illustrates several scripture passages, including the story from Mark 9, but it adds a crucial detail that the scriptures don't include. I'll get to this detail in a bit; first I want to break down the beginning of the passage.

If thou canst believe, all things are possible

The man who brings his son to Christ is desperate. He has already brought his son to the disciples of Christ, the men who have healed others before, but they are unable to help. Christ is his last hope. He comes before Him, telling about the difficulties that his son has faced, and Christ responds by telling him that if he can only just believe, then all things will be possible. How often, in our desperation, do we come before the Lord and beg Him to help? We've tried everything we can think of. We've asked opinions, looked for the solution in books, consulted the professionals, even searched the all knowing Google. Yet the peace that we need, the comfort and healing, continue to elude us. So we go before God, we pray in desperation for His help, and He tells us that we just need to believe. Such a simple answer, that how can it be right? How can it be that basic? Yet it is. When the brother of Jared believed, his faith was so complete that he saw the Lord in the flesh. The Lord tells him, "Because of thy faith thou hast seen that I shall take upon me flesh and blood" (Ether 3:9). Jared believed, and made all things possible.

Simple vs easy

I'm fond of saying, "Just because it's that simple doesn't mean it's that easy." We often confuse the word "simple" with the meaning of the word "easy". But those two words are not the same. For example, threading a thread through a sewing machine can be somewhat complicated. There are a lot of steps to follow to get the thread from point A to point Go-Through-the-Dang-Needle. But it's pretty easy once you get the hang of it. It remains complicated, detailed, but it becomes easy. However, riding a bull is pretty simple. You just have to hang on. Sounds easy, right? Think you could do it? Just because bull riding is relatively simple doesn't mean it's easy. Christ's advice to the father in this story is that he only has to believe, and all things will be possible. Such a simple task. How easy is it, though, to believe? When your life is falling apart? When your healing doesn't come? When others hurt you? When you lose a loved one? When your country is at war? How easy is it to keep believing then? Just because something is simple doesn't mean it's easy.

I believe!

So now we come around to the scene from Finding Faith in Christ. When the man brings his son to Christ and begs for him to help, Christ tells him that if he believes, all things are possible. The desperate father then exclaims emphatically, "Lord, I believe!". Christ looks at him, eyebrows raised, as if to say, "Do you really?" So much meaning is conveyed in that simple expression. "You want to believe. You have tried so hard, for so long, to believe on your own. You have walked the path of obedience, you have done everything that was asked of you. But one thing is still missing." How often do we do this? We go before God, we lay down our case, and we declare without hesitation, "Lord, I believe!" And we want to. We want so desperately to believe. We want to know without a doubt that God is there. But when we rely on ourselves, on our own knowledge, on what our own brains can learn, we are still missing something: the witness of Christ that we receive by letting Him into our lives, fully and without conditions.

Help

In that moment, when Christ looks at this poor father as if to say, "Do you really believe?", the man humbly bows his head and declares in a soft voice, "Help thou mine unbelief." And in that moment, I can hear my own voice in this man. We cannot do this alone. I live in New England, a land of "I will do it myself". We don't want your help. We want you to let us muddle through it ourselves and the mistakes were just things we meant to do, dagnabbit. Sometimes our independence hurts us, though, and never more so than when we refuse God's help in our lives. If there is one thing that we need, one thing we cannot do without, it is divine assistance. We can try as hard as we can to learn everything there is to know about Christ, but until we let Him into our heart, and let Him help our unbelief, we cannot truly know Him.

In the end, Christ heals the man's son of his affliction. He is made whole and well. And although the scriptures do not give us any more insights, I would like to think that the father was made whole as well. In his despair, he learned that he could not do it by himself. He learned to turn to Christ, and ask for the help that He was always willing to give. He never leaves us. He never lets us go. He stands there, arms outstretched, waiting for us to look up and see Him standing there, and accept His offer to help our unbelief. In the words of Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf, "God sees you not only as a mortal being on a small planet who lives for a brief season—He sees you as His child. He sees you as the being you are capable and designed to become. He wants you to know that you matter to Him."

When it feels like God won't.

It's been a little while since I last wrote, but I've felt for several months that I really need to pick this blog up and run with it because I feel it's crucial to my own testimony, even if it doesn't end up helping anyone else's.

Lately, our family has been experiencing the full "when it rains, it pours" experience. We've had a whirlwind of financial set backs, emotional struggles and medical challenges to deal with, along with the never ending winter Narnia New England has been experiencing. Between all this, it has been a particular struggle for me to keep my head up. It's as if I start to climb up the ladder after falling only to be knocked to the ground again and again and again.

I am a creature of order and explanation, and nothing bothers me more than the simple state of not knowing. When circumstances beset me that are completely beyond my control, and I can find no explanation as to why they are happening, the only explanation I can come to is that God just won't. Not that He can't, but that He simply won't. I find that my reaction to that conclusion often falls between anger and a deep and abiding sadness.

In mortality, when someone lets us down, there are typically two possible reason behind it: either they couldn't do what they had said they would do, or the wouldn't do it. As far as mortals go, the reasons for either of these are as varied and imperfect as we are as people. Sometimes we have selfish motivations for letting someone down. Sometimes circumstances beyond our control force us into inaction. Sometimes we cannot do something for someone because their own actions have made it impossible or unconscionable for us to act.

But God is not mortal. He is not imperfect, nor is He subject to the whims of mortal feeling and the variations of mood that we go through. His actions are perfect, and perfectly just. Many times He acts in ways we do not understand simply because we cannot see the end that lies beyond the horizon for us. But from His eternal vantage point, He shapes and molds us in preparation for things to come that we cannot see. Yes, sometimes God simply won't: he won't end a trial immediately, he won't take away all the bad, he won't stop us from experiencing set backs and pitfalls and road blocks. But we must never confuse these things with a callous disregard for us or our mortal experience. God loves us more deeply than we will ever be capable of understanding. Christ hurt for our hurts and suffered for our sufferings, not just the consequences of our sin but also the trials, tribulations, pains, fears and afflictions we would have to go through in life, so that He would be the one and only being who could ever say that they truly understood what we were going through.

This understanding is essential, but we are mortal, finite beings. We cannot see eternity in its fullness. So when we are in the midst of these trials, when we've come up against the reality that sometimes, God won't, what do we do?

"That long groove over there is when I dragged you for awhile."

I've always liked the cartoon at the beginning of my entry. I love the "footprints in the sand" analogy, that when we are too weak, the Lord picks us up and carries us until we can walk beside Him again. But sometimes, we don't want to walk and we refuse to be carried. Sometimes we want to sit down, have a pity party and refuse to get up until the sun is shining and God promises ice cream on the way home. It's times like those that I feel like God has to drag me for a time before I've moved past my narrow mortal mindset and can stride next to Him again. So sometimes, when we are in the midst of trials and God won't, for whatever eternal reason, take them away, we need to recognize that we're only human. We will be stubborn, we will be angry, we will be obstinate and cantankerous and obfuscatory. But we get up, we dust ourselves off, and we keep moving, recognizing with gratitude that sometimes God drags us to where we need to be, even when we didn't want to go.

Letting go of "why"

It's probably one of the hardest things to do if you're an inquisitive person. Since we are young children, we are encouraged to ask and seek the answers to "why". It is a natural drive that has led the human race to discover and invent beyond our wildest dreams. So when we're faced with a situation we don't understand, it is only natural to ask "why": "Why is this happening?" "Why am I here?" "What am I going through this now?" "Why won't this stop?" In our imperfect mortal ways, as we seek answers to these questions, if we fail to receive them, we are inclined to turn on our Heavenly Father and draw our own conclusions: that He does not love us, does not care for us, or worse, that He gets some sort of enjoyment out of seeing us suffer. None of these could be farther from the truth. In those moments, no matter how difficult, sometimes we have to let go of "why". Don't get me wrong. There is nothing wrong with praying, with asking for understanding, with asking God "why" and hoping for an answer. But sometimes, we don't get one, because it isn't yet time for us to know. And it is those times that we have to be willing to let go of "why" and let the Lord guide our steps. Ether 12:6 tells us that "ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith." Sometimes we must walk by faith alone for a time, trusting that the light will someday come out and our understanding will be made whole.

Unconditional faith

No matter what we go through, we have to be wary of the temptation to make our faith conditional. When we pray, it is natural to want to bargain. We wheedle with the Lord: "If I do this, and serve this person, and do all the things You told me to do, then You can take away this trial." But the flip side of that is being tempted to threaten: "If You don't do what I asked, then I won't follow Your commandments. If You won't take away this trial, then I won't listen to You anymore." This is a toxic trap to fall into. I really liked the article "The Power of Faith" from this month's Ensign. The author says, "To have faith does not mean we believe our Heavenly Father will always give us what we ask for when we ask for it. ... [W]e can have faith that Christ has the power to heal, that He is mindful of us, that He will strengthen us, and that if we endure well, we may qualify for eternal life." We must never make our faith conditional on an expectation that God will answer our prayers if we are praying for the opposite of what we need for our eternal glorification. My children have often lamented being forced to brush their teeth, or eat healthy foods, or dress warmly because it infringed on their temporary view of happiness and satisfaction. In much the same way, we often expect God to answer our prayers no matter what, just because we're praying for something we want. 2 Corinthians 5:7 reminds us that we "walk by faith, not by sight". God's ways are not man's ways, and we must keep our faith even when God won't give us the answer we want.

We are only human

In all of these trials, we need to remember that we are only human. We are going to get angry or frustrated sometimes and "kick against the pricks" as Paul put it. As we give ourselves a break, let us remember to do the same for others. We are all imperfect beings travelling this murky road together. We should extend the same understanding and patience with others as we do with ourselves. One scripture I use very often in my discussions with people is Romans 3:23: "For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God". It is a poignant reminder that we are all in desperate need of the grace and forgiveness of Christ. From the lowliest to the mightiest among us, we are all sinners. It is a defensive human reaction to compare ourselves to those around us and seek to find the ways in which we are better than our neighbor. We want to lift ourselves up, and so we search for backs and heads to stand on. But the reality is that the Lord wants us all to help one another. We are in this life together, and we were sent here not just to help ourselves, but to help those around us. We must give patience, love and understanding, so that we can all ascend together.

1 Peter 1:7 reminds us that "the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ". Through all our trials, we must never lose sight of the ultimate goal of eternal life and glory in the life to come. Sometimes, many times, that is a really, really hard thing to do. Our trials overwhelm us and we feel like we're drowning under the current of troubles that sweep over us. If all we can do is just hang on to the last threads of hope that we have left, then may we never let go.

Sometimes I feel like I'm a kite, flying by a thin string, threatening all the time to be blown away and lost forever, but I know that if I can just hang on to that one string, the Lord will cause me to soar.

Curse God, and die - on trials and what I learned from Job

Earlier this year, I finished working my way (slowly) through the Old Testament in my effort to finally finish the Bible all the way through, which I've never done in my 28 years as a Christian (I'm not sure how I managed that one, but there you go). The last book I finished was the 42 chapters of Job.

I knew the story of Job previous to completing it this time around. I'd read parts of it before, but I'd never read it all the way through. After reading it, I really felt impressed to write about trials and what lessons I'm gaining from reading about Job's experience, but life kind of put this entry on the back burner for awhile. Recently we had a Gospel Doctrine lesson about Job, and I thought I would finally get around to writing something about it.

In our house, we have a small picture frame that has a picture of Joseph Smith on his knees praying in Liberty Jail. If you're unfamiliar with the story, the short of it is that Joseph Smith and several other Church leaders at the time were imprisoned in awful conditions in a stone jail cell in Missouri for five months during the winter of 1838 to 1839 as they waited to attend trial.

During their experience, Joseph prayed to his Heavenly Father, asking, "O God, where art thou? And where is the pavilion that covereth thy hiding place?" (D&C 121:1). So many times I feel like I've asked that same question: "God, where are You? Why have You hidden Yourself from me? Why can't I see You anymore?" In response, God comforts Joseph, but He also reminds Him "Thou art not yet as Job".

Job is the quintessential example of a human suffering and enduring trials. He is the go to when we think of a mortal who suffered and yet faithfully endured.

Job used to depress me, because his life just seemed to be truly terrifically awful. That statement in D&C 121, "Thou art not yet as Job", kind of irritated me. Like when you tell someone about all the difficulties you're going through and they point out how other people are worse off. It almost feels like they're invalidating your experience. But rereading his story now with a different eye and an open heart, I feel like there's a lot more that the Lord is trying to teach me, and it isn't all the obvious things I thought it would be.

When you first encounter Job, he's a rich and righteous man living in the land of Uz. He's beyond righteous, actually. The Bible tells us that he is "perfect and upright, and one that feared God, and eschewed evil" (Job 1:1). So he is obviously someone who is living a life that is pleasing to his Heavenly Father.

We're told that a day came when the children of God presented themselves, a great big family council in Heaven; but then Satan arrives, and God asks him, "Where were you? What were you doing?" It almost makes me feel like God is asking him this with a sad tone to his voice, as if to say, "Look at you. Look how far you fell from what you could have been." God points out who Satan could have been. He points out Job, and asks, "Hast thou considered my servant Job, that there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that feareth God, and escheweth evil?" (Job 1:8). Satan then claims that Job is only righteous because he is blessed. Take those blessings away, he argues, and Job will fall just like that.

This is where Job's trials begin. God has a point to make to Satan and to Job alike. He is going to show Satan that humanity is so much more than he thinks it is, and show Job just how strong he can be by relying on the arm of his Redeemer.

Through all of Job's trials, through his material, physical and psychological deprivations, he does not sin. His friends come and sit with him, and try their best to counsel him in their limited human ways, his own wife tells him to "curse God, and die". Finally, the Lord Himself speaks to Job, reveals great truths to him, and Job even sees Him in the flesh. He then restores to Job everything he had and more, "twice as much as he had before" (Job 42:10).

So what lessons can we learn from Job's life? I used to think that the be all and end all of Job was the message "Hang in there" complete with the little kitten hanging by its paws from the clothesline. All there was to learn from Job was that when the going gets tough, we have to just grit our teeth and bear it and eventually we'll get a whole crudload of camels. Or something like that. But I was wrong. Sure, the basic message here is one of faithfully enduring trials. But the story of Job covers trials from every angle - those who suffer them, those who go through trials in a more indirect manner, those who help someone who is suffering and those who aren't even involved.

Here are a few of the lessons that I've gleaned from my study:

1. Trials really suck sometimes.

No, seriously, they do. Sometimes we talk about Job like he was all sunshine and roses while he went through his trials. He grieved, and he grieved a lot. The first thing he does when he starts to experience his hardships is tear his clothing and sit on the ground. A bit dramatic, perhaps, but he has just lost his entire family (save his wife) and all his possessions to a series of freak accidents. Later, he laments his even being born. Far from an "It's a Wonderful Life" angelic moment, he doesn't get an answer right away. It takes another 35 chapters for God to get back to him. So he's left here, wondering what he's done wrong, and it's terrible. How does that translate over to our own lives? Not to be Debbie Downer or anything, but sometimes, trials are really, really rough. Sometimes, we don't get an answer right away from the Lord. Sometimes, we have to go through hard things for awhile to come out refined and pure on the other side of the fire. Sometimes, it isn't because we're unrighteous. It isn't because we deserve it, or because God doesn't care. We came to this world to be tried and tested. If the tests weren't hard, what would that prove?

2. When a family goes through trials, we're all just stressed.

Job's wife famously tells him to curse God and die. To which he responds that she speaks as one of the foolish women. Not exactly a warm and fuzzy exchange. When we're going through trials together as a family, it creates a lot of stress sometimes. Ok, all the time. But that is ok. We might snap at each other. We might be less than understanding of each other's faults. So when that happens, we need to give ourselves some leniency. Permission to step back, cool off, apologize and move on with life. For the last couple years, our family has been going through some fairly significant trials. Unemployment, work stress and our current job uncertainty have been taxing on us as a family - and that's ok. We're all working towards perfection, but not one of us has reached it yet. A great strength I've found in my life is the ability to understand why I am feeling and acting the way I am. Not because I want to give myself an excuse so I can keep behaving poorly, but so that I don't start to slip into the mode of thinking that tells me that this is who I am, that I will never be more than this, that I cannot change. Because that's all a bunch of junk. Who I am when I am under extreme pressure and stress is not who I am at my core. Realizing that gives me a sense of worth that allows me to pick myself up and improve.

3. When someone is going through a trial, remember what your mother said.

If you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all. Job's friends come to mourn with him for a week. They sit by him, silent (presumably) and sympathizing. As someone in Gospel Doctrine last Sunday pointed out, the problems don't begin until they open their mouths. When someone is going through a trial, there are a lot of natural human reactions from those who are not involved. We want to look at this person and separate them from ourselves. We want to make sure that it's clear that their trial could not happen to us, because we're afraid. We're afraid that if we acknowledge that sometimes, bad things just happen, then it could happen to us. Heaven forbid! So we blame them. In today's society the popular phrase is "victim blaming" or "victim shaming". "He didn't invest wisely." "They shouldn't have trusted him." "The way she was dressed she was asking for it." "They must not be keeping the commandments." But the scriptures make it painfully clear at the very beginning that Job was a perfect person. In the original Hebrew, the word perfect is "blameless". He had done nothing wrong. His friends sit there and insist that he must have done something. I mean, come on, it must be his fault! Yet it wasn't. When someone else is going through a trial, if we don't know what to say, perhaps just being there for them is best. We want to solve people's problems. We want to separate ourselves from them while they suffer and we want there to be an easy solution; but sometimes, there just isn't. Sometimes, we just need someone to come and mourn with us while we mourn, and comfort us while we need to be comforted.

4. When we've gone through the fire we feel a lot more sorry for the guy still in it.

Not all our trials are over. Sometimes we struggle with them all our lives. But when we've been through a trial, or we're going through a trial, sometimes it helps us to be a lot more empathetic with people going through trials of our own. Sometimes, that is the blessing from our trials. I've been through many mental trials as a teenager and a young adult, but through it all I feel it's given me a greater capacity to love, understand and help people going through the same things. When we go through a trial, we can speak with greater authority and most importantly, great love, to those going through the same trials. It puts the suffering of our fellow brothers and sisters into perspective. We start to see things from the inside circle of the sufferer, instead of standing outside trying to make them the "other", the unclean thing, the one whose trials could never happen to us. Let me be clear, empathy is not patronizing. It isn't, "Oh, you stupid creature, let me enlighten you with my great wisdom." It is getting right down to their level, saying, "I am just as imperfect and struggling as you are. Take my hand, and together let's get through this." That is what Christ does for us, and it is what He asks us to do for our fellow men.

5. Hot pepper sauce makes milk taste like manna from Heaven.

Seriously. I like spicy things, but nothing makes milk more enjoyable than having a little bit too much fiery spiciness in your mouth. The scriptures tell us that by knowing the bitter, we can better appreciate the sweet. After Job is faithful through his trial, he is blessed immeasurably. I imagine, had the Lord Himself just appeared to Job, that it would have been an incredible, indescribable moment. How much more so when he receives that visitation after just suffering more than probably any human had suffered up to that point? God reveals great truths to Job, and his mind is ready to receive them. His spirit is about as broken as they come. When we go through trials, it puts everything into perspective. Suddenly we appreciate our families a lot more, we appreciate our lives, our health, whatever it might be. We stop taking things for granted. Especially in our middle class first world lives, sometimes we forget just how good we have it. So how much better would our lives be if we were able to reach that perspective without having to suffer and suffer? I can tell you that I am so grateful for employment and a steady income right now. I do kind of wish, though, that I hadn't had to go through unemployment and all of the accompanying trials to get here.

We were watching a show the other night about a tribe from the Amazon that uses bullet ants in a rite of passage for men. Bullet ants, as you might have surmised, have a sting so painful it feels like you've been shot. They pack two mitts with tons of these ants, with the stinging side inward. Then the men have to wear these mitts on both hands for ten minutes without removing them. At that point in the show I expressed gratitude for being a woman. But this rite of passage, which the men go through 20 times in their lives, does so many things for them. It galvanizes them as a tribe, bringing everyone together to help these men get through this successfully. It teaches them to overcome the pain, and puts future pains into perspective. And in a way, so do our trials. They teach us to endure hardships, to empathize with others, they bring us closer together in support of a loved one, and they put all of life into perspective for us. Trials are often viewed as negative things. Don't get me wrong, trials are, well, trying. They are hard. Our goal is to always emerge from our trials with a greater faith. As President Uchtdorf so wonderfully stated, "Being grateful in times of distress does not mean that we are pleased with our circumstances. It does mean that through the eyes of faith we look beyond our present-day challenges."

I'm grateful for the lessons I learned from Job. Not just what I was expecting, but so much more.

Be a real man.

There's a video clip for a new documentary called "The Mask You Live In" by The Representation Project. Unfortunately the clip (and probably the film) does not edit the swears, so I won't post a link here. The movie addresses the question, "As a society, how are we failing our boys?". Men are told "boys don't cry", "stop being a sissy" and "man up!". From The Representation Project's website, they say, "Compared to girls, research shows that boys in the U.S. are more likely to be diagnosed with a behavior disorder, prescribed stimulant medications, fail out of school, binge drink, commit a violent crime, and/or take their own lives." It's a pretty harsh picture for our boys.

I have two boys and one girl. My boys are and have always been more naturally drawn to typical "boy stuff". They were always more interested in throwing the stuffed animals than cuddling them. They'd rather turn the fork and fake food from the toy picnic basket into a catapult than play picnic. They were apparently born with a natural propensity to turn anything into a firearm despite repeated admonitions from their parents that "guns are not toys" and not being allowed to watch anything featuring gun violence.

My husband is unusual for a man, these days at least. He isn't interested in sports. He finds pornography to be disrespectful and disgusting. He is not afraid to show emotions, including sadness and grief. He is a caring and devoted father and husband. He happily helps with housework, he cooks, he cleans, he changes diapers. For the first six months of our daughters life, he was out of work, and so she got to the point where she couldn't fall asleep unless she was in Daddy's arms.

I'm sure many of these nurturing, caring tendencies were naturally present in my husband. Some of them were learned from being raised by a single mother for many years of his life. Some of them he learned from his loving and devoted stepfather, himself a caring and gentle giant of a man. Some of them he developed from being willing to learn and grow in a marriage and as a father.

But all of these traits were augmented and solidified by my husband's faith in and following of the ultimate example of manhood: our Lord and Savior.

Christ is the best and most perfect example of a man that we could ever ask for. He exemplifies what it really means to be a man. His ministry on Earth gave us the pattern that all men would do well to follow.

So what do real men, followers of Christ, do?

1. Real men are compassionate.

Society tells men that they must act "tough" towards others to be manly. Yet Christ was compassionate to the utmost. He cared for the sick. He comforted the fearful. He gave a second chance to the condemned. He welcomed the social pariahs. He didn't present a gruff demeanor, on the contrary he was warm and welcoming. In Matthew 25:40, Christ reminds us that we must care for those who are sick, in prison, naked, homeless, for "[i]nasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." Society teaches our boys that they need to be tough, that they need to have a stony exterior. They are taught that violence and cruelty are the measure of manliness. Look at the games, movies and toys that are geared towards boys: toy AK-47s, Grand Theft Auto, the Fast and Furious saga. Manliness is equated with being violent, crude and offensive. Particularly today, on Good Friday, I am reminded of how, as Christ hung on the cross in agony, suffering from excruciating pain as He slowly died of asphyxiation, He forgave the men who were crucifying Him (Luke 23:34). He did not lash out in anger. He did not curse and violently revile the very men who were killing Him. He reached out to them with love, caring for them to the very end. Then, in the agony of His dying moments, He compassionately made sure that His mother would be cared for (John 19:25-27). Christ was compassionate to the last, even when in pain, even when falsely accused and sentenced to death. He still forgave and He still loved. Real men give compassion to those around them.

2. Real men cry.

One of my favorites verses from the scriptures is John 11:35: "Jesus wept." Christ had just heard of the death of one of His dear friends, Lazarus. Overcome with emotion, He showed His grief and wept. When Christ was teaching the Nephites in the Americas, he told them "Blessed are ye because of your faith. And now behold, my joy is full. And when he had said these words, he wept, and the multitude bare record of it, and he took their little children, one by one, and blessed them, and prayed unto the Father for them. And when he had done this he wept again" (3 Nephi 17:20-22, emphasis mine). Christ was joyful, overwhelmed by the faith and love of the people He taught, and so He wept. I am very grateful for the wonderful examples my boys have of men who are not afraid to cry. They have, on many occasions, witnessed their father, other men in our Church, and Church leaders in General Conference get emotional and even cry when talking about difficult subjects, intense spiritual experiences and moving stories. I think one of the most pernicious and yet prevalent things we tell our boys is "men don't cry". I will admit that I am not an excessively emotional person. I have little tolerance for crying over things like "He looked at me funny!" or "Mommy won't let me have another six cookies!". But when real men grieve, when they are moved by the Spirit, when they experience overwhelming joy, they are not afraid or so unfeeling that they cannot show their emotions.

3. Real men care for children.

Christ loved children. He patiently sat and taught them, both in the Jerusalem and in the Americas. He told his disciples, "Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God" (Mark 10:14). He always made teaching and blessing them a priority in His ministry. According to the US Department of the Census, 43% of children live without their father. Real men who have children take responsibility for those children. They care for, love, lead and teach those children. It is the antithesis of manliness to abandon one's children, to expect their mother to bear the immense burden of raising those children herself. It takes two to make a child, it takes two to raise a child. If I seem passionate about this subject, it is because I am. I have seen the effects of a neglectful father on my husband, how much it hurt him and continues to hurt him. But I have also been blessed to see the effects of an involved, loving and caring stepfather. His stepfather taught him, guided him, and laid down the foundation for many of the positive structures of his personality. My own father, a divorced single dad, was a caring and devoted father. He played with us, he hugged us, he raised us and taught us. He didn't leave the duty to our mother alone. My father was not perfect, but I love him for the examples that he gave of being a real man. Real men do not abandon their children. They do not ignore them, belittle them, abuse them or shun the responsibility of caring for them. Real men step up to love, guide and watch over the children in their care.

4. Real men do the work that needs to be done.

Christ was a worker, a hard worker. He didn't refuse to do work because it was "women's work" or "beneath him". Christ was a teacher of children. He was a nurse and healer to the sick and afflicted. He was a servant to the very disciples who followed Him. In our family, the only "women's work" is having children. Everything else is up for grabs. My husband is equally adept with a chainsaw and a broom. He knows how to wash his own clothes. He can cook just fine. Because I choose to stay home and run our household, many of the household duties naturally fall on me. But I know my husband will willingly step up to any household task that is needed. He does not shy away from caring for our children, from skinned knees to dirty diapers to nap times. Work is work, and it needs to be done. Christ was a hard worker - He walked extensively so He could teach those who needed to be taught. He worked hard healing and ministering to those in need of it. In His moment of greatest agony, as He suffered and bled in Gethsemane, He knew and accepted that He was the only one who could bear the immense burden and finish the work He was sent to do. My husband is a hard worker for our family. He works long hours doing tedious work to support our family. He does everything he can to avoid putting the responsibility of caring for our family onto anyone else. Even when he struggled for ten months to find a job, he never stopped working at home. He has worked desk jobs, teaching jobs, construction jobs, manufacturing jobs, and I have always been impressed by his work ethic and his willingness to give 100% to whatever job he has been given. Real men work, and they work hard.

5. Real men know money isn't the most important thing.

A beautiful example of Christ's teachings on money is given in the story of the rich young ruler who came to Christ. The young man asked Christ what he should do to inherit eternal life. Christ reminded him of the commandments, which the young man said he had kept since his youth. Asking what he still lacked, Christ said, "[S]ell all that thou hast, and distribute unto the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come, follow me" (Luke 18:22). The young man went away sorrowing, unwilling to part with his earthly treasures, and Christ uttered the famous declaration, "[I]t is easier for a camel to go through a needle’s eye, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God" (Luke 18:25). Men in this world are told to place their hearts on money. Money is seen as a status symbol, as the most important thing, more important than anything else. Christ reminded us that we cannot serve God and mammon - we cannot truly be servants of Christ if we set our hearts on worldly treasures and worldly praise. It is no sin to work hard, to earn money, even lots of money, and to save wisely and be financially prudent. But far too often, we see money become the most important thing. In his epistle to Timothy, Paul wrote that "the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows" (1 Timothy 6:10). When people set their hearts on money, on making it, investing it, keeping it, they become willing to set aside the most important things for the least important. They put aside family, they operate unethically, they violate their principles and beliefs, all in the pursuit of wealth. Real men know that money isn't what matters in this world. We are not blessed with riches and wealth so we can bless ourselves. We are given it by a loving God who wants us to bless others. There are so many who struggle, through no fault of their own. Imagine if we took all the knowledge, all the creativity and drive and ingenuity that we use to make ourselves richer and richer and richer, and instead turned it towards bettering mankind? If we truly opened our hearts to our brothers and sisters that surround us and used our wealth and our possessions to bless them and ourselves? What a beautiful world we would live in.

6. Real men live with integrity.

Because He did not sin, Christ was the example of perfect integrity. He was honest to the very end. When He stood before Caiaphas, facing the charge of blasphemy and with it, death, He answered plainly that He was the Christ. When He was confronted by Pontius Pilate and asked if He was the King of the Jews, He refused to lie to save himself, but declared unequivocally that He was. Christ dealt with integrity with all those around Him. Even when it was not convenient to Him, even when it put His life at risk, He always operated with integrity. Too often boys get the message that laws are of little consequence. They grow up thinking that lying is ok. Honesty and integrity are looked down on as weaknesses. Real men have integrity by being honest with themselves, first and foremost. They are honest about their weaknesses and about their strengths. They maintain integrity with those around them. They do not purposefully deceive the people they interact with about their intentions, their motives or their actions. They maintain integrity in their dealings with the world. They have integrity in business life, in their personal life and in their hobbies. Integrity is what holds men up, and allows them to stand tall in a world where so many stoop under burdens of dishonesty - to themselves, to those around them, to the world as a whole.

7. Real men respect women.

Christ honored and respected the women in His life. He frequently visited with and taught Mary and Martha, who were His close friends. Christ rose the daughter of Jairus from the dead. He frankly forgave the woman caught in adultery. He took time to teach the Samaritan woman at the well. The Bible records the stories of many amazing women of faith, such as Lois, Dorcas and Phoebe, who were disciples of Christ both during and after His earthly ministry. Women were and are essential to the gospel's plan of salvation, and Christ was always respectful when speaking to and about women. In the world, disrespect of women is rampant. Women are portrayed as objects of lust and desire, they are abused and assaulted, they are trafficked, objectified and degraded. They are portrayed as weaker, less intelligent, less capable. Men are no longer regularly taught to respect women, to show them courtesy and kindness. Too often, men speak of women in derisive terms, think of them as mere objects for sexual gratification, and fail to nurture the bonds with those who should be closest to them. Real men respect women. They honor them, in their words, their deeds and their thoughts. Real men do not allow improper thoughts to enter their minds because women are not objects to be used as someone pleases, mentally or physically. Real men do not speak down of women or make crude and crass statements about womankind because God placed woman next to man, not below him. Real men encourage the young women in their lives to get educated, dream big and never doubt their potential because God made women extraordinary. Real men defend women, from the assaults of others and from their own temptations, not because women are weak, but because we all stand together, and we all defend each other from cruelty, hate and violence. Real men are champions of women, of what they stand for, of what their potential is, and of what matters most to them.

Real men exist. Society may not encourage them to exist, but they do. They can be found everywhere, in every walk of life, in the gospel and out of it. But real men are becoming an endangered species. My plea is that the men of this world step up and be real men. Compassionate, feeling, caring, hard working, giving and respectful men.

Men of Christ.

A daughter in His Kingdom: on the nature of womanhood

I recently got the opportunity to watch our new semi-annual General Women's Meeting with women, young women and girls eight and up at my Church. It was a really wonderful experience, and I love the feeling of community and sisterhood that I get when I'm together with these amazing women and youth. It also reminds me that I stand as an example of womanhood to the girls in my sphere of influence.

In "The Family: A Proclamation to the World", it states that "all human beings—male and female—are created in the image of God. Each is a beloved spirit son or daughter of heavenly parents, and, as such, each has a divine nature and destiny. Gender is an essential characteristic of individual premortal, mortal, and eternal identity and purpose."

As Latter-day Saints, we believe that whether we are male or female has more than just social or biological significance. Our gender is "an essential characteristic" of everything we were, are, and will be. Our feminine attributes are divine.

Historically, women have been mistreated (and that's putting it mildly). In recent years, we have made leaps and bounds towards equality, at least in the developed world. Culturally, however, our society still struggles to given men and women equal treatment. Women are often faced with cultural double standards. Our intelligence and value is diminished by stereotypes enforced by marketing and media images.

How do we, as a collective gender, respond to these affronts to our character?

Sometimes, I am dismayed by what I see as the "masculinization" of women by the very movement that purports to be empowering us. Rather than encouraging a male oriented society to become more accommodating to women, we ask women to become more like men. Rather than empowering women by celebrating the divine attributes that make us female, we label these attributes as "weak" and encourage women to develop masculine attributes so they can be stronger.

I, for one, wish to celebrate the "divine feminine": the truly amazing attributes that we, as women, innately possess.

I need to preface this by saying that I am what my husband calls "the exception to every rule". I did the majority of construction work on our chicken coop, including laying the concrete foundation, siding it and roofing it. I change the oil and the spark plugs on our outdoor equipment. When the washing machine stopped working, I was the one who dissected it to find the problem. I've been to the hardware store so many times they know me (and my kids). When my husband asked what I wanted for Christmas, my response was a Sawzall.

I am not afraid of dirt. I am not afraid of hard work.

I am a woman. And I wish to celebrate the aspects that make me a woman, a true woman, not as the world sees me but as God sees me.

A woman is beautiful, inside and out. Not because of what she wears or what dress size she is or how her body is shaped. She is beautiful because she is created in the image of the Divine, and her nature and privilege extends far beyond the sphere of mortality, into eternities yet to come.

A woman is a nurturer. It is not weakness to nurture. Nurturing those around us, in whatever way we do it, requires strength. It requires resilience. It requires a steady heart and a strong spirit.

A woman is strong. Not harsh. Not cold. Not callous. She is a backbone for the downtrodden. Women "succor the weak, lift up the hands which hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees" (D&C 81:5). Most of all, she leans on the arm of God to be her backbone in all things.

A woman is powerful, not because of the power and prestige given by the world, but because of the power that lies in her to influence the world for good. Elder D. Todd Christofferson said in his talk "The Moral Force of Women" that "[w]omen bring with them into the world a certain virtue, a divine gift that makes them adept at instilling such qualities as faith, courage, empathy,and refinement in relationships and in cultures."

A woman is gentle. Sister Margaret D. Nadauld put it best when she said, "The world has enough women who are tough; we need women who are tender. There are enough women who are coarse; we need women who are kind. There are enough women who are rude; we need women who are refined. We have enough women of fame and fortune; we need more women of faith. We have enough greed; we need more goodness. We have enough vanity; we need more virtue. We have enough popularity; we need more purity." Gentleness is not weakness, it is not submissiveness. It is humility and kindness in action.

Most of all, a woman is a daughter of God. She is capable, strong and powerful. She is beautiful and nurturing. She is gentle and kind. She is glorious and amazing, not for the attributes that the world gives her, or the values that society places on her, but because of her innate heritage and her divine potential.

I hope that we all stop trying to bring women down, to make them cold and callous, harsh and unfeeling. Perhaps those characteristics will allow them to survive in a cruel world, but as Eep from the movie "The Croods" famously put it, that isn't living, that's only not dying.

The Lord has called us to live in this world: to repair it, improve it, and shape it into a place fit for the children of God.

Who can find a virtuous woman?

My husband and I were discussing modesty and Latter-day Saint women the other day after I was reading of the recent kerfuffle in the blogosphere over an upcoming March Ensign article about morality. We were discussing what a person's responsibility was when it comes to modesty, so my husband Jon posed a question to our 6 year old son, Owen.

"Owen, why should a woman be modest?"

Owen didn't even stop to think more than a second before responding, "To show respect for her body and Heavenly Father."

I was very proud of him at that moment and glad that at least something I'm teaching him has sunk in.

Modesty is a bit of a pet issue for me. Jon will attest that I've spent a lot of time going on about my opinions on modesty, how it relates to women and it's place both in our religion and in our culture. Owen's response about sums up my most basic ideas on modesty.

Modesty is about me and my relationship with my Heavenly Father. It isn't about other people, it isn't about fitting in to some standard set by the world, it isn't about pleasing family or friends. I believe that Heavenly Father has set guidelines for me and given them through His living prophets, and those are the principles I follow.

In Proverbs 31:10 it asks, "Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies." As a Latter-day Saint, I am striving to be counted as a virtuous woman in the eyes of the Lord. What the world or even those in my own Church think of me is ultimately immaterial. What Heavenly Father thinks of me is paramount.

The principle of modesty has never changed. In the Garden of Eden, before Adam and Eve ate of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, they "were both naked, the man and his wife, and were not ashamed" (Genesis 2:25). It was only after they came to a knowledge of their nakedness that they felt the need to be covered, and afterwards Heavenly Father gave them clothing to cover their bodies. Never does Heavenly Father tell Adam and Eve that their bodies are dirty or something to be ashamed of, nor does He give this as a reason for clothing them.

Jon and I recently finished teaching a class on marriage and family relations at Church. It was a great class and we really enjoyed teaching it, especially together. One thing that we emphasized several times during the class was the importance of understanding that our bodies are sacred, and that sexuality is also sacred. I think one of the biggest disservices we do ourselves and our children is teaching and thinking that sexual intimacy is dirty and our bodies are something to be ashamed of.

Nothing could be farther from the truth.

Our bodies are a sacred and precious gift from a loving Father, a gift that must be cherished and kept safe. Our bodies were created the way they are for very specific reasons. The simple fact that sex feels good is evidence that our Heavenly Father loves us and wants us to find joy and fulfillment in sexual intimacy. Because this is such a special and sacred gift, Heavenly Father also gave us guiding principles and commandments to teach us when and where it is appropriate to express sexual intimacy. It is to be expressed only between a man and woman once they are married.

Because our bodies are so sacred and precious, and because sexual intimacy is something reserved for married couples, modesty is important to keeping our bodies sacred and special. We show respect for our bodies, ourselves, our Heavenly Father and the sacredness of sexual intimacy by showing modesty in our dress.

One thing I notice in my religion is an emphasis, in talks and lessons, on the modesty of women. Often this is portrayed as a double standard, or as placing the responsibility for men's behavior on women. I think that Elder D. Todd Christofferson put it best in his October 2013 General Conference address, "The Moral Force of Women".

Elder Christofferson said, "By praising and encouraging the moral force in women, I am not saying that men and boys are somehow excused from their own duty to stand for truth and righteousness, that their responsibility to serve, sacrifice, and minister is somehow less than that of women or can be left to women. Brethren, let us stand with women, share their burdens, and cultivate our own companion moral authority."

I teach my children that they are responsible to be modest to show respect for themselves and Heavenly Father. A woman is not responsible for what a man thinks, does or says. Women and men are responsible to dress modestly to show respect for their own sacred physical bodies.

That does not mean that how a woman or a man dresses doesn't have an affect on those around them.

I explained it to my husband like this. My oldest child Owen likes to tease his little brother Wes. Wes has a tendency to react to this by hitting his brother. Wes is absolutely responsible for his own actions and his brother's teasing does not excuse his behavior. He is responsible to learn to control his behavior despite the presence of an outside force. But Owen is also responsible because he knows it is his job to be kind to everyone, especially his younger siblings.

By that token, a man dressing immodestly and strolling down the street does not give me an excuse for ogling him or thinking immoral thoughts, but that doesn't excuse the fact that he has dressed immodestly. I need to be responsible for controlling my thoughts, actions and words, and he needs to be responsible for dressing appropriately.

I have two boys and one little girl, and when I look at the doctrines and the commandments that have been given regarding modesty and morality, I find them to be the same for both genders. In their dress, both men and women are expected to be equally modest. Where the clothing lines should come to are the same. However, when the topic of modesty comes up, I often see two things happen. When someone comes out in defense of the Church's modesty standards, they often only discuss it's application to women. Then, in response, critics accuse the modesty standards of being unfair to women, oppressive or even abusive.

What I wonder is, why does no one get upset about the modesty standards as they apply to men? Men have the same standards.

The fact of the matter is, society doesn't expect a man to dress the way a woman does. Society expects me, as a woman, to reveal more of my body to be "liberated", when in reality I am not liberated at all. I am expected to wear clothing that does nothing but put my sacred body on display for the enjoyment of others, but I'm told that I should wear those things so that I can empower myself, or express my individuality, or be fashionable. Men can be fashionable, empowered and individual without being expected to wear immodest clothing.

The Lord's standards of modesty, contrary to making women inferior, actual equalizes them with men, placing equal worth and value on their bodies and emphasizing that our inherent value and worth doesn't come from what we wear, but who we are.

In addition to referring to what our clothing covers, modesty also refers to our actions. We need to be modest in our behavior as well as modest in our dress. Women and men are exhorted in the Bible to be "sober" and "sober minded", meaning "unhurried, calm" or "showing no excessive or extreme qualities of fancy, emotion, or prejudice". In society, we are often encouraged to be the opposite: flashy, extreme, "out there". Our unique qualities, talents and abilities should show without us needing to announce them at the top of our lungs while wearing a meat dress and dying our hair bright pink.

Ultimately, we are responsible for ourselves. We are responsible for our own actions. I am grateful that I belong to a religion that teaches personal responsibility and revelation. Joseph Smith once gave a quote that I have always loved. He said, "I teach them correct principles and they govern themselves." Even Heavenly Father has told us that " it is not meet that I should command in all things; for he that is compelled in all things, the same is a slothful and not a wise servant; wherefore he receiveth no reward. Verily I say, men should be anxiously engaged in a good cause, and do many things of their own free will, and bring to pass much righteousness; For the power is in them, wherein they are agents unto themselves. And inasmuch as men do good they shall in nowise lose their reward. But he that doeth not anything until he is commanded, and receiveth a commandment with doubtful heart, and keepeth it with slothfulness, the same is damned" (D&C 58:26-29, emphasis added).

The principles of modesty are given to us, and we are guided in how to apply them in our lives, but ultimately, the choice follow the commandments is left up to us. We are required to receive revelation and confirmation of all the commandments we are given. If we are given principles by the Lord's servants, that doesn't excuse us from receiving a confirmation of it from Heavenly Father Himself. The ultimate authority is the Lord, and once we receive His confirmation that a principle is true, the onus rests on us to follow it or not.