The attainability of true happiness in Gospel-centered living

As you might have noticed over the past few months, in an attempt to better understand my own motivations for living the way I do, I have addressed several topics relating to the practice—or perhaps, malpractice—of religion. I’d like to try to address an issue that I feel greatly impeded my understanding of both the Gospel and what some would deem “true happiness.” And so before we get started, I’d like to attempt to define a few terms. “Gospel-centered living” is a term I’ve developed to try to explain my lifestyle. It’s a life where I’m trying to do what I feel is right, but where that right is defined or at least guided by what the religious school of thought to which I subscribe proclaims. In this discussion, “true happiness” refers to a happiness devoid of feelings of culpability and regret, uninhibited by what might be if we do or had done more.


Some of the faithful would suggest that by leading a Gospel-centered life we will be happy, as though there were some formula for creating happiness. For many, there is a series of hoops which, if jumped through in the proper order and with the right frequency, will ultimately lead to happiness.

I hear comments like the following so often I’m growing weary of them: “And I know that living this Gospel is the only way we can find happiness in this life.” If this statement is true, then why is it that the same faithful individuals claiming Gospel-centered living to be the key to happiness are so unhappy in living what they’re preaching? Depression runs rampant among the faithful, and yet the Gospel-centered life is supposed to bring happiness.

I think in some cases, people are sincerely trying to convince themselves that the way they’re living and thinking about themselves and the world will one day lead to happiness, at the expense of feeling there’s something wrong with them if they’re not happy living what they think is the Gospel’s proscribed way. Somehow, by repeating what they’ve heard other unhappy individuals say about what they believed would lead them to happiness, they’re one step closer to believing it for themselves.

Evidently, there’s a disconnect here. These faithful are mislead (which many atheists and agnostics will argue), they’re misinformed (as many faithful from the world’s religions aside from your own will tell you), or they’re misunderstanding the truth they profess to believe in. As a man who believes to have found truth, I am inclined to believe the third among my fellow faithful.

We will only ever be as happy as we allow ourselves to be. If we impose upon ourselves an unattainable goal, our never attaining it will ultimately lead to our unhappiness. Just as we avoid disappointment by managing our expectations, we must avoid unhappiness by managing our reality. It is here I feel so many faithful err. Somehow we think we’ll be happy by following some nonexistent or inefficacious formula to a t, while there’s really no formula to follow. When I share an experience that promoted my faith, my hope is that it will edify others. However, I cannot expect a personal experience to play out in the life of anyone who seeks to repeat it. Rather, I would hope that those listening would apply the principles surrounding the events that lead to my faith-promoting experience.

Just as an artist will not succeed by recreating someone else’s masterpiece, we must paint the canvas of our own lives with our own colors and in our own way. Only then will the experiences that promote our faith also lead to our happiness.

"...waiting on the world to change."

Admittedly, I'm a bit perturbed.

Or perhaps disappointed is a better word. When considering the political atmosphere, there's plenty of cause for disappointment. As politicians continue to make promises they evidently aren't keeping, I'm disappointed. When politics becomes a game where parties and players are more concerned with keeping score and jockeying for position than they are with representing people, I'm disappointed. But we aren't doing much to encourage good behavior.

It seems almost all political commentary, whether via mass media, Facebook note, or blog, is centered on what candidates aren't doing for us. Now, don't get me wrong, we need to hold our politicians to as many of their promises as possible, but why do we not hear about the promises politicians are keeping? Surely they're keeping some of them, and probably as many as they realistically can. It's so easy to focus on the negative, especially when we're searching for ammunition against the opposing team.

As the result of a process I still don't understand, I was selected to represent my high school to go to Boys' State in my home State. The experience was more than just informative, it was enlightening. I was disgusted by the amount of backbiting, lying, maneuvering, and manipulation used to gain support for a candidate or cause in such inconsequential policy-making. Based on this experience with high school juniors, I can only imagine what's going on in Washington with PhDs, JDs, MAs, MSs, and MBAs.

Wouldn't it be refreshing to see an honest politician? I hesitate to put those two words next to each other. I guess that's why I'm still, in the words of John Mayer, "waiting on the world to change." I know how ideological it sounds to think there's such a thing as an honest politician, but it sure would be a breath of fresh air.

Why can't we focus on the good? Should politics be as intrinsically pessimistic as we make it out to be? If we ever want to get anything done, we need to stop pointing fingers.

Gandhi said we need to be the change we want to see in the world. Maybe we could start by encouraging politicians when they're doing things right, rather than criticizing them (as we're so wont to do) when they're doing things wrong. "One day my generation is going to rule the population" (thanks again, JM). I just hope we'll be better about all this than the current critics. Unfortunately, I guess I have my doubts.

Qualifying the goodness of others

One of my least favorite expressions, which I hear at church all the time, goes something like this: "He/She's not a member [of our church], but...." The commentator then goes on to say what a wonderful or Christlike person the individual is or what a good example he/she is, and the comment is usually pronounced in a tone implying, "I was surprised to find a good example of any Gospel principle outside the membership of our church, and you should be as surprised too!" So why do we always have to qualify or justify people outside our church?

The word "but" is a loaded word, charged with more meaning than its measly three letters might suggest. Essentially, when we say "but," we are emphasizing an implied contradiction between what we said in the first clause and in the second clause of the sentence. For example, "He's not a doctor, but he knows a lot about micro pathogens." Or even sarcastically, "I'm no rocket scientist, but that looks like it should work." So when we say, "He/She's not a member [of our church], but..." we imply that our friends of other faiths should not be expected to be good people. Am I truly to believe that? I won't!

It only makes sense that each faith believes it is teaching the truth. (If it weren't, why not belong to the faith that was?) A belief system is based on the belief that it is correct. So we should expect our friends to believe they believe the truth, regardless of whether we believe what they believe. It shouldn't come as a surprise, then, that I feel I really have found a great source of truth in my church. In fact, I haven't found a better one anywhere.

Accepting this belief, however, I accept that others likely feel the same way about their faith. They believe they're doing what's right, and quite frankly, many of them are likely doing as good a job or better of living right as I am. To assume less would be presumptuous. So why should I be surprised when I hear an inspiring story about a friend or prominent figure of another faith?

In addition, asking whether someone "is a member [of the Church]" creates several unwanted consequences. Are we to have our friends of other faiths feel alienated every time we refer to them as "non-members?" Not members of what? Is the Church some kind of exclusive club, where you're either in or out, or should the Church be a place where all feel welcome? Besides, if a visiting member of another faith is questioned about his membership, will he even know to which membership we're referring? "Of the health club? The yacht club? Sure, sure, I'm a member."

Another undesirable consequence of such thoughtless language is the alienation and distance it creates. Many faiths--including the majority of Christian faiths, I would argue--are openly evangelical. Recruiting the new faithful is essential. If it is our goal to increase our church's membership, should we not be referring to visitors inclusively rather than exclusively?

Moreover, our church activities should be designed in such a way that those of all faiths feel comfortable attending and participating. Now don't get me wrong: I'm not arguing for Unitarianism, just an open exchange of ideas. Should church not be a forum where our questions are answered? If we want to be better at answering people's questions, some practice might not hurt. Why not host such practice in our church meetings?

When I look at the violence around the world, much of which many attribute to religious differences, I see this exclusionary attitude on both sides of the arguments. If we want to put an end to religious discrimination and violence, crusades and jihad, we might start by including and inviting others in our speech about them rather than self-segregating and alienating ourselves. These attitudes lead to isolationism, a key ingredient to ignorance.

How ironic that it is perhaps in our places of worship, where we preach tolerance and love, that the root of our divisiveness lies!

Sacred Art

In ancient times, only the socially privileged, highly educated, or specially trained knew how to read. In ancient Egyptian and American societies, among others, writing forms were based on pictures that evolved to carry certain meanings. Art, especially in sacred settings, was used to convey messages to the illiterate. It was rich in symbolism, scripturally and doctrinally accurate, and naturally inspiring.

(In fact, many of this world's artistic masterpieces are inspired by religious themes. Some nations focused entirely on sacred art for many generations. Only in more recent history have secular pieces become historically significant and respected.)

That said, I have to admit, at the risk of sounding like an art snob, that I much prefer religious art that depicts actual events or prophecy from holy writ. I'm not as concerned about things religious figures might have done, could be imagined to have done, might possibly be doing now, or could potentially do.

To me, these imaginative forms of sacred art are similar to "quoted" statements from scripture, such as the Savior's reportedly teaching, "I never said it would be easy, I only said it would be worth it." While this statement does not necessarily contradict the Savior's teachings, and while it is possible the Savior actually taught this principle, these words are not contained in any revelation of which I am aware. And yet, they are some of the Savior's most oft-cited words by members of my faith.

There is another intrinsic problem with both invented religious art and imagined sacred citations: while they might be a reflection of the creativity of their authors, to the scripturally illiterate--whether by choice, inexperience, or incapacity--representing imagined situations as real or accurate can be deceptive, misleading, and the source of, for lack of a better term, our religious urban legends.

Furthermore, people will accept, remember, and believe what they see. The human mind is a powerful tool with a great capacity to recall words and images. Once an erroneous piece of information enters our mind, not only must we learn the truth when we encounter it, but we must also forget the wrong information we once learned.

Allow me to illustrate with a couple acute examples. First, this week's Church bulletin had a pencil drawing of the Savior tossing a child above Him in the air. While the image does not contradict the Savior's teachings, it also has no reference to an actual occurrence in the Scriptures.

Second, while the Scriptures teach Christ was baptized by immersion, I have seen art depicting John the Baptist and Christ in the river Jordan with John baptizing Christ by aspersion. I encountered this art as a missionary while attempting to teach about baptism by immersion and following Christ's example, and, needless to say, it had a detrimental effect on my teaching efforts.

Moreover, people have a hard enough time getting the facts straight in so many instances of Scriptural reporting. With different accounts recording slightly different information, the questions surrounding certain stories are understandable and justified. This is even more reason for artists who choose to represent sacred scenes to pay special attention to what they're producing.

This same principle has implications in music that teaches incorrect principles, or anything that does, for that matter.

What are your thoughts?

Fous au volant

A couple weeks ago, I was crossing a busy intersection on my daily route to school. As I was a few minutes late, I looked both ways and began running across the street. I didn't have the right-of-way, but the intersection was clear in the directions of traffic as far away as I could see and our turn to cross the street was next. What's more, another student was just a few steps ahead of me.

As I was almost across the street, a car crested the hill opposite the intersection from where I was crossing at a speed greatly exceeding the steeet's residential speed limit. Floating lightly on its suspension, the car cruised through the intersection, swerving to avoid me. The driver angrily laid on the horn as the light changed in the intersection.

As I reflect on the experience, I realize how close I came to suffering serious bodily injury or death. I recently married, and I couldn't help but think about the heartache such an accident would have caused my dear wife. Should I have run into the road without the right-of-way? In retrospect, it seems more than just foolish or even reckless. But another question has occupied my attention even more the last few weeks:

What's up with the dangerous combination of absent-minded pedestrians and angry drivers in Provo?

I am convinced that Provo has the worst drivers and the most thoughtless pedestrians of any city in America. Pedestrians all over the city cross the street without looking either way. A couple days ago, a girl used a crosswalk at an intersection I was driving through. Staring at her iPod, with her headphones in, she sauntered into the street, ignorant she didn't have the right-of-way. What was she thinking? Cars slowed for her, but she's lucky she didn't get hit. At least in my case I had looked both ways before crossing the street and tried to determine it was safe to do so. This girl didn't even acknowledge the existence of the cars in the street she was crossing.

I'm not sure what causes such absent-mindedness in a city so full of college students. My university is a respectable school with a difficult application and admissions process; how is it we have such a high concentration of thoughtless, selfish individuals?

Before you judge me too judgmental, let me expound. I am of the belief that, despite everything we've been taught and the fact that we should know better, students at this university are essentially selfish individuals. This explains apathy to common-sense safety practices, like looking before crossing a street, as well as the reason my neighbors think it's okay, in their perceived haste, to occupy two spaces in our apartment complex's crowded parking lot. I guess staying between the lines is too much to ask.

Thoughtless interaction between pedestrians and drivers is only exacerbated by police attitudes toward j-walking. In a recent report in my university's newspaper, the local police department was quoted as saying its officers are more prone to ticket drivers not stopping for pedestrians, even when they aren't using crosswalks, than they are to ticket pedestrians for j-walking.

This "carte blanche" the police department has effectively granted pedestrians might be to blame for such deplorable public behavior as crossing (at a crosswalk or otherwise) a street without looking, but what explains other inexcusable lacks of driver etiquette, like never letting anyone in, crossing into the right-hand lane when turning left, turning left well after the arrow has expired, and the ever-unsafe "I'm-letting-you-turn" maneuver? What about all the other directions and lanes of traffic, are they all letting you in?

Has anyone else experienced this, or do I just expect too much from the drivers around me?