Explaining General Conference

My friends and I are starting a new D&D campaign, and we're currently scheduling it for Saturday evenings, potentially starting as early as this Saturday, the first day of General Conference. This means that there's a decent chance that I'll have to explain why I won't be able to make it to D&D this Saturday, which may involve explaining what General Conference is, preferably without devaluing its importance or making it sound crazy.

The trouble is that I'm not sure where all of my fellow D&D players sit in terms of their religious beliefs. Statistically-speaking, it's probably safe to assume that at least a few of them are Catholic, practicing or not. I wouldn't be surprised if most of them were atheist or agnostic. Most of them are young enough that I wouldn't expect them to have given the matter much serious thought, which isn't to say that they're young, just young enough to not question whatever their parents taught them. And dollars to doughnuts says that none of them are Mormons members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

I suppose I can safely assume that most of them are at least somewhat familiar with the classic stories of The Bible. I bet they know who Noah and Moses are. From there, it's not too far a jump to say that there are still prophets today and that they share messages from God periodically.

I'll basically be sharing the cliffnotes version of the First Lesson missionaries share. I can skip over the first part, God is Our Loving Heavenly Father, because I'm sure they knew who He is and I don't need to try and convince them that He actually exists, and I can skip over the parts about The Apostasy and the Restoration because I don't want to ruffle any feathers, and, again, I'm not trying to convince anyone of anything, but if I can stick to the part where God Speaks Through Prophets, that may be all I need.

Hopefully, my friends won't think it's crazy that God might still speak through prophets, assuming that He ever did or that He even exists. I don't want my friends to think I'm crazy for believing in such things, and I certainly don't want to make our beliefs seem any more strange than they already do. Still, I should probably make some effort to explain it and give my friends a chance to become interested in learning more. This morning, a classmate asked me what I did this weekend, and my explanation didn't involve any mention of a picnic on Temple Hill, and I'm kind of kicking myself about that. I shouldn't hide my religion from others. I should take opportunities to share my beliefs and customs when those subjects come up. I just hope I can manage to share a bit about my beliefs without making them sound strange.

Self-Sacrifice vs Self-Care

Recently, I've been struggling with self-sacrifice and self-care. My natural inclination is toward self-sacrifice. I tend to do about as much as is asked of me, with little consideration as to whether I was giving too much. This was especially true when my dad was still alive, and I gave him about as much help as he asked for, even when it was more help than I was fully comfortable giving. Granted, one should stretch themselves a bit when it comes to giving service. One shouldn't stay too comfortable. Still, it is possible for one to stretch oneself too thin, and when one does, all sorts of unpleasant things could happen. For example, when I give too much, I tend to get irritable, and I have even experienced outbursts of negative emotions that I really should have dealt with in a more positive way.

In fact, there are several things that I should deal with in a more positive way. I could stand to take better care of myself, especially if doing so helps me gain the mental resilience to do all the service I should do without becoming irritable as I do so. I should do service, and I should probably keep doing at least as much service as I have been doing, but I should also take care of myself so I don't burn myself out.

Self-sacrifice can be a virtue, but it can also be harmful. In those cases, self-care isn't just a virtue; it's practically a necessity.

Persistence

Many worthwhile pursuits (and many less-worthwhile ones) require one to be persistent in the face of frustration. Persistence is, in most cases, a virtue. For example, when one is on the right path, staying on that path persistently is a good and noble virtue. However, if one persists in going down one of the many wrong paths, that persistence is really more of a vice than a virtue. As usual, context matters. To paraphrase a demotivational poster, consistency is only a virtue when one is hitting the mark.  If one is missing the mark, doing so consistently is a vice. So, rather than extolling the virtue of persistence, let us extol the virtue of choosing the right path, even if it takes us off the path we've been on for a while. "Stay on the Path" is great advice for someone who's on the right one, but if one is on the wrong path, it's better to get off that path as quickly as possible.

Persistence, by itself, is not a virtue, but persistence in choosing the right path is.

Resting at the Temple

This evening, I had the opportunity to visit the temple, not to go inside and perform ordinances, but to share a meal with friends and family, lay down on a blanket, and rest. It was very nice. The food was good, the company was good, and it felt wonderful to just lay down and relax in such a wholesome place. I ought to do that more often. Laying down may not be the most spiritual experience, but resting at the temple is a great way to restore physical and spiritual strength at the same time. Were it not for the risk of falling asleep, I'd be tempted to make it a regular habit. I enjoyed resting at the temple this evening. I expect that I'll do it again some time soon.

Poor Reasons To Do Good

Sometimes, I feel good about myself because I help people for a living, but that's part of the problem: I help people for a living. I accept payment for helping people with their writing. If I wasn't getting paid, I wouldn't do it, at least not as much or as often as I do now. Sure, there are worse ways to earn money, but there are better reasons to do good.

I find that much of the good I do is poorly-motivated. I do some of it to earn money, I do some of it out of a sense of obligation, and I do some of it for the long-term blessings I hope to get out of it. I do good things frequently and regularly, and I'm somewhat proud of that, but much of the good I do is motivated by my own interests.

Still, I imagine that doing good for poor reasons is better than not doing it at all. I'm still helping people, even if I have selfish reasons for doing so. They are still getting help, and that is certainly good. Of course my motivation could be better, but it's still good that the good gets done, no matter why I do it.

I'll try to develop better motivation for doing the good that I do, but in the meantime, I'm going to keep doing good, no matter what motivates me to do it.

Nobody's Perfect

Today, for my literature class, I read a story titled "Young Goodman Brown" in which the titular character learns that many of the people he knows and respects aren't quite as religious and pure as he thought they were. Perhaps this was significant to him because he's a puritan, or perhaps it's significant because those respected people had darker pasts than Goodman Brown expected, but if the protagonist was shocked at the revelation that nobody's perfect, I wasn't.

I know that nobody is perfect. Everyone has faults and flaws, and everyone has committed sins. Now, the examples Goodman Brown saw of people having consorted with the devil seems extreme, but in a sense, it's kind of true. Whenever we commit a sin, we either knowingly or unknowingly are taking advice and guidance from the devil. When we give in to temptation, we are doing what he wants. If he suggests a course of action, and we then follow it, it could be said that we are consorting with him. I expect that we don't do it often, and I expect that we do the exact opposite of that more often than not, but the fact remains that we all give in to temptation from time to time, and when we do, in that moment, we are following Satan.

I'm sure the devil would love to paint us all in a darker light than is actually accurate. I'm sure he'd love to tell us that we all worship him and do whatever he says. I'm sure he'd want us to hate ourselves and distrust others, but as I said the other day, we're all human. Everyone makes bad choices sometimes, and yet everyone has good in them. That's what Goodman Brown didn't understand. Having seen how so many people had, evidently, turned to the dark side at least once in their lives, Brown comes to realize that people are, by nature, evil, but that's not quite true. Everyone has both good and bad in them, and we can all act on either set of traits on a whim. Sure, nobody's perfect, but nobody's pure evil either. We all have to decide, frequently, what kinds of people we are, and we have a lot more options to choose from than just Good and Evil. There's a lot of gray area between those extremes, and everyone lands somewhere within it.

The Law of the Harvest

Tonight, I would like to blog about a concept that is sometimes called The Law of the Harvest: "Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap," or, in modern American English, "You reap what you sow." Paul's letter to the Galatians gives us this concept in greater context:

Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.

For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting.

And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.

Galatians 6:7-9

Paul's second (or fourth?) letter to the Corinthians also sheds light on this concept: "But this I say, He which soweth sparingly shall reap also sparingly; and he which soweth bountifully shall reap also bountifully" (2 Corinthians 9:6).

Essentially, for the most part, we get what we deserve. If we do good, we generally get blessings. If we don't do good, those blessings are usually withheld. The more good we do, the more blessings we can expect, in this life and/or the next. The less we do for God, the less we can expect God to do for us. Of course, God is often, though not always, more generous than we deserve. But still, generally speaking, we reap what we sow.

What's most interesting to me about this concept is that it doesn't only apply to spiritual matters. It can also be applied to other aspects of our lives, perhaps even all of them. For example, the more we practice piano, the more piano skill we will gain. The more we study geography, the better we'll understand it. And the more time we devote to gaining money, the more money we will probably gain. All of these blessings depend on us seeking them in the right ways, but if we do, the results we get will largely depend on what we do to get them.

This Law of the Harvest makes me want to do good, develop good skills, and study topics worth understanding. I'm sure the feeling will pass and I will once again spend time and energy on things of little value, but right now, I want to sow goodness so I can reap goodness in return.

How to Get Blessings

This afternoon, while I was studying Galatians at the Institute, I had a thought that answered a question I had had.

Previously, I was pondering the concept of promised blessings, and I wondered if it would be possible to make some sort of catalog of blessings and the commandments upon which those blessings are predicated. With such a catalog, one could look up whatever blessings they want, find out which commandments those blessings are predicated upon, and keep those commandments to earn those blessings.

Of course, it seemed ludicrous to think that God might have made such an easily-exploited system. Still, I would like certain blessings, and I wouldn't mind finding a way to guarantee that I'll get them.

But this afternoon, as I read what Paul wrote to the Galatians about works and faith, I realized that blessings don't come through strict, impersonal adherence to certain spiritual laws. Instead, blessings come as a result of being the kind of people we become when we faithfully keep the commandments.

I don't think God cares what we do as much as He cares who we are and who we are becoming. Naturally, our behavior is a reflection of who we are, but if there is any disconnect between where the heart is and what the hands are doing (such as when people keep commandments just for the blessings without putting their hearts into it), I'm pretty sure God goes by the heart.

We don't earn blessings through works. We are given blessings as we become saints through practicing our faith. So, if we want any particular blessings, we shouldn't look for a checklist of tasks to complete to earn them. Instead, we should pray for them and then try to be good enough people that God will be able to justify blessing us with them.

Everybody's Human

One of the fundamental truths that I keep coming back to, especially when I'm thinking about other people, is that every human being is human. Everyone has human potential. Everyone has human flaws. Everyone has human limitations. Everyone deserves human rights. Nobody is more than human, and nobody is less than human. We are all the same kind of people, both for better and for worse. Both the best and the worst people who have every lived have been human, and both are clearly within human potential.

I'm not even sure whether Jesus should be excluded from that. Sure, He was perfect, and no (other?) human being is, but He was perfect because He made perfect choices, and we have the potential to do that as well. Besides, we know He suffered many human frailties. It could be true that Jesus was just as human as the rest of us, despite His celestial parentage.

This fact, that everybody is human, teaches me compassion. As different as human beings can be from each other, we're all cut for the same cloth, so to speak. Any of us can learn to be as good or as bad as any of us. This is both encouraging and sobering to me, as I know that both ends of the moral spectrum are within my reach. I can rise to the heights of heaven or fall to the depths of hell or land anywhere in between. Any of us can.

Cleaning

I'm kinda glad that I was called to be the Building Cleaning Coordinator. I mean, I'm not too keen on calling people, and I'm not fond of asking for help, especially from people I don't know very well, but there is one aspect of the job that I enjoy: cleaning.

There's something satisfying about cleaning. I think it's partly the aggressive satisfaction of hunting down and eliminating bits of dirt and fluff, but it's also partly the orderly satisfaction of seeing a room or surface in its clean and proper state. Plus,there's plenty of symbolism in cleaning, whether it's the spiritual cleaning that comes through repentance or the gradual, personal cleaning that comes through self-improvement.

Now, I don't like cleaning enough that I would choose to do it for fun, but I do like cleaning enough that I can have some fun doing it. I'm glad that cleaning is part of this calling and that I'm usually not to busy coordinating the other volunteers to help them do it. I get a certain amount of satisfaction out of cleaning, and while I'd still rather not do any more cleaning than I have to, I'm glad I get some fun and satisfaction out of it when I do have to clean.

Blessings of Omission

Our lives are full of blessings, but not all of them are obvious. We notice when something good happens to us, but we don't necessarily notice when bad things don't. Sometimes, our blessings take the form of an absence of trials or afflictions (or perhaps the blessings take the form of having enough strength and patience to endure our afflictions so well that we hardly feel them). Life is normally full of trials and afflictions, so when we manage to go an unusually long length of time without experiencing a trial, that, in itself, is a blessing. I might call that kind of blessing a Blessing of Omission. Just as Sins of Omission involve goo things we should have done, but didn't, Blessings of Omission involve afflictions and trials that could have happened, but didn't.

Case in point: My day went alright. Nothing particularly good happened today, but nothing particularly bad happened either. I didn't get in an accident, I didn't have to do anything difficult, nothing went horribly wrong, and that really is a blessing on some level. Compared to bad luck, average luck is good luck. In terms of d20-based table-top role-playing games, a roll of ten or eleven looks great next to a natural one. Similarly, an average day can look great compared to a bad day, and it's worth remembering that bad luck can happen to anyone, at any time, for no reason at all. We are not entitled to average luck or days, which is part of what makes them blessings when we get them.

Blessings of Omission aren't as exciting as more flashy kinds of blessings, but we still ought to be grateful for them. Misfortune is too common for its absence to go unappreciated. I'm glad I had an okay day today, and I thank God for my Blessings of Omission.

Facebook vs Blogging

I used to think that it was Youtube that prevented me from blogging on time most of the time, but now I think that the problem is Facebook. It's too easy to get caught up in conversations (or arguments) on Facebook, since it's far more interactive and text-based than Youtube is. Too often, I see a conversation on Facebook and can't help tossing in my own two cents. Sure, there are inspirational quotes on Facebook, but I never use them anymore because it feels like cheating, and if I don't glean any blogworthy insights from Facebook, then browsing it does more harm than good, at least when it's time to blog. In the future, I'll try to avoid Facebook, at least until after I've blogged. It's a useful tool, and I'll continue to use it, but before I've blogged, it's more trouble than it's worth. Besides, I don't need to have an opinion on everything. And even when I have an opinion, I don't need to express it. Sometimes, I should just let things pass without a comment from me.

Conflicting Principles

I've been thinking a bit lately about winning and losing and standing by one's principles. Specifically, I wonder which principles are always worth fighting for, to the extent that one should never give up the fight for them, no matter the cost, and I wonder which principles are important enough to stay true to, even if doing so costs one the victory. For example, say one is running for office, and they really hope to win because they'll be able to do a lot of good in that position, and they learn that they can gain a strong advantage, a near-certain victory, if they betray one of their moral principles, but if they don't betray that principle, they will almost certainly lose. If their candidacy hinges on them betraying of one of their moral principles, should they? Obviously not, but what if this victory is of great moral importance? What if one plans to pass a very moral and important law, and their opponent plans to pass an opposite, horribly immoral law. Then, securing that office becomes a moral imperative. At what point, if ever, does the moral principle one plans to uphold by winning the office outweigh the moral principle one would have to break to gain the office?

I suppose what I'm really asking is which principles are more important than which other principles. What is the hierarchy of important moral principles? Which principles should never be sacrificed, and which principles can and should be sacrificed for the sake of others. It's easy to say that one should never sacrifice any of their moral principles, but one doesn't always have that option. If one can save hundreds of innocent lives, if only they cheat on a particular test, doesn't it become morally imperative for them to cheat? If they choose not to cheat, doesn't that mean that, to them, not cheating is more important than saving lives?

Now, I'm not saying that one should always cheat, if cheating means saving innocent human lives. I'm not making that argument because I'm not sure it's necessarily true. I think that people should choose their own moral principles, including the hierarchy thereof, though it wouldn't hurt to follow divine guidance on that topic, perhaps even to the point of basing one's complete set of moral principles entirely on one particular philosophy or religion. I base most, if not all, of my moral principles on the teachings of Jesus Christ. But I wonder, under this philosophy, which principles are more important than others? Are there any divine laws that can and should be broken, if doing so is necessary in order to obey a higher law?

Certainly, there are some situations in which it is acceptable to break one commandment in order to obey another. The instance of Nephi killing Laban comes to mind. Thou Shalt Not Kill is certainly one of the most important commandments. If it is sometimes necessary and acceptable to break that law, there certainly must be circumstances under which it may be acceptable to break lesser laws, such as those against lying, cheating, and stealing.

Which leads me back to my question of which principles are more important than others. Which principles can be broken when necessary, and which principles must never be broken under any circumstances? Unfortunately, I do not know that the hierarchy is, or even how I might find out what the hierarchy is. I suppose, then, the safest route is to maintain all of one's principles as long as one can, and when one has to break either one commandment or another, one should make it a matter of prayer. God can certainly tell us, on a case-by-case basis, which commandments are more important than which other commandments. He can tell us which principles may be sacrificed under which circumstances and which principles must never be betrayed, no matter the cost.

But in the absence of divine guidance, one may need to go with one's gut. If saving lives seems important enough to justify cheating, then cheat. If not cheating is important, even when lives are on the line, then don't cheat. If one can't simultaneously maintain two moral principles, one of those moral principles is going to have to be betrayed. Hopefully, the scriptures and the Spirit will be able to tell us which principles may be broken under which circumstances and which principles may never be broken under any circumstances.

Everybody Struggles

In 2 Corinthians, Paul writes of having a thorn in his flesh, which I assume to mean that he had some kind of affliction, and of course he does. We all do. Our afflictions are different, but all people have them, even the people who seem to have everything together. Everyone on Earth has trials, whether they share the knowledge of those trials publicly or not. It's safe to assume that everyone you meet has something that they're struggling with. Everybody struggles, whether we see them do it or not.

Ambiguous Alternatives

In many fictional stories, morality is all black and white. The heroes are the good guys, they only do good things, and everything they do is totally and unambiguously good, while the villains are the bad guys who only do bad things and everything they do is absolutely bad. In better stories, and in real life, the question of morality is far more nuanced. It is said that there is a little good in the worst of us and a little bad in the best of us. To quote Bishop Fulton Sheen (who may or may not have been quoting someone else), "The good are not always good in all things, and the wicked are not always wicked in all things." So, people are neither all good nor all bad.

Similarly, our choices are not usually between pure good and pure evil. Sometimes, we are forced to choose between something good and something better or between something bad and something worse, and it's mostly our own moral evaluation that tells us which choice is better or worse. The choices we make are morally complex, leading to a great degree of moral ambiguity when it comes to the question of how good or bad individual people are. People are neither all good nor all bad because their choices are neither all good nor all bad, and even if the choices were morally unambiguous, people don't always choose good and they don't always choose evil.

What this means for me is that I'll always have morally-interesting questions to ask. What this means for us is that we always have both some redeeming qualities and some room for improvement. And what this means for others is that we shouldn't be too quick to judge them. Nobody is perfect, and nobody is perfectly wicked either, and neither are our options in the big decisions of life. There's both good and bad in everyone we meet and in nearly everything we do, which is partly why I'm so grateful that God's the one judging our souls, not me. These situations are too complex for me to pass any clear-cut moral judgments on anyone. There is such a thing as pure good and pure evil, but there's enough space in between to leave nearly everything at least a little bit ambiguous.

Changing Like Frogs and Butterflies

What does it take to change? I suppose it depends on how big of a change we're talking about. Minor changes, like growing, seem to happen automatically. As long as one is alive, one is probably growing, changing in size over time. This sort of change is so easy, it seems almost inevitable. Yet, there are more drastic changes we can observe in the natural world, particularly those of frogs and butterflies.

Frogs changing into tadpoles take more than mere growing. As the tadpoles become larger, they also have to grow legs and adapt to breathing air and catching food with their tongues. The tadpole's whole physiology, lifestyle, and even environment (if one considers Near Water and Underwater to be different environments) change as they grow. Biologically, they are still the same creature, and the frog may even remember their life as a tadpole, but the change from a tadpole to a frog is certainly a dramatic one.

Yet, more dramatic still is the change from a caterpillar to a butterfly. If what I've heard is true, a caterpillar effectively dissolves their body once they had formed the chrysalis. That dissolved caterpillar goop eventually forms the body of the butterfly, but the two seem like different creatures, down to having different DNA, if I heard correctly. In this case, it's not that the caterpillar becomes a butterfly; it's that the butterfly consumes the caterpillar, like an embryo consumes a yolk in an egg.

Certainly, our personal changes don't all need to be as drastic as all that. Often, we can get away with milder transformations, like growing bigger, and perhaps even growing additional limbs, figuratively speaking. We naturally need to overcome faults and weaknesses. We may even try out a new medium of art or pick up a new skill. We may even change our lifestyle and/or environment, if we feel that's necessary. But changes any more drastic than that are rare. We certainly don't often break ourselves down to our base parts and form new creatures out of the pieces that were once us. I'm not sure we would even still be ourselves if we did that.

Following the Gospel path requires change. We need to grow and improve, lose vices and gain skills. All this, at most, constitutes the kinds of changes tadpoles make to become frogs. Only in the most drastic situations is it necessary for a creature to change as much as a caterpillar does. But, to answer my original question of how much change is required, I suppose it depends on the situation. Often, given enough time, gradual changes are enough, as we gradually grow into better people over time. In some cases, it may be necessary to gain or lose certain traits, as tadpoles gain legs and lose their tails. Ultimately, we will all transform, from mortal creatures to immortal creatures, in a transformation that could be compared to that of a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly. Taken as a whole, the changes we undergo between birth and eternity could certainly be considered as drastic as that of a butterfly, but within one's mortal lifetime, one's changes are, at most, more like that of a frog.

So, what does it take to change? That depends entirely on how big of a change we're making. Eventually, we will all change like butterflies. In the meantime, we can expect that we will only really need to change like frogs.

Love's Redeeming Work is Done

I've been thinking a bit about Lehi having said "I have obtained a land of promise" (1 Nephi 5:5) long before he ever saw it, along with a certain line from the hymn "Christ the Lord is Ris'n Today": "Love's redeeming work is done."

Whether this is chronologically true or not, it's a good attitude to have, and it may be helpful, spiritually. For example, I haven't fully repented of all my sins yet. I still have a long way to go before I am fully redeemed. But how would I act if I had been redeemed? Would I, as a redeemed, transformed, and purified individual, remain trapped in the same cycle of sin and despair that I've been stuck in far too long? I doubt it. I think that, having been redeemed, I would do everything in my power to maintain my redemption. Having been purified, I would have the Spirit with me more, and He would help me make good choices throughout the day. Being transformed, I wouldn't be in a big hurry to transform back.

Acting as through the redeeming work has already been done may be, on some level, dishonest, but I see it more as a self-fulfilling prophecy, and it's a fairly promising prophecy at that. The Savior wants to forgive us and redeem us, and one of the few things holding Him back is our lack of repentance. Repentance means change, so if we change our behavior for the better, then we are very likely to be redeemed. And one way to convince ourselves to change is by convincing ourselves that we already have.

I may not be fully like a Paladin yet, but if I keep telling myself I am one, I might start acting like one, and if I start acting like a Paladin, I will start becoming one. Similarly, I have not yet been fully redeemed, but if I act like I have been, I will be. Love's redeeming work may not be done with me yet, but I have a good reason to act as though it has.

Bad Luck

I think there is such a thing as luck. We sometimes switch the word "lucky" out for "blessed," and we're usually right to do so. Many of the positive aspects of our lives which we might attribute to random chance are actually blessings from God. However, I am less confident in ascribing credit (or rather, blame) to God when we're talking about bad luck.

Not every instance of misfortune is an act of God. Not every stubbed toe is the result of protective blessings being withheld. I think that God established this world on the foundation of natural laws and that He usually lets those laws play out as they will. If you catch a cold, it's probably because you chanced upon some bad bacteria, not because God deliberately smote you with the illness for His own reasons.

Naturally, it's possible that God has a hand in literally everything, and that every good or bad event that ever happens to us is a direct result of His influence, but He doesn't strike me as that much of a micro-manager. I think that He often lets the natural consequences play themselves out. Yes, every affliction can be spun into a blessing, but that doesn't mean they were all caused by God. Sometimes, it's just bad luck.

Good Story

When I play D&D, what I care about most is making sure we create a good story. Fortunately, this doesn't pin us down too much, because there are many different types of stories. I generally assume it's going to be a heroic fantasy, and I try to build characters that match, but sometimes the story is a comedy or a tragedy, and there's almost always some room for drama. Kharagon almost dying to a swarm of magical carrots and transforming into a were-rabbit as a result isn't very epic or heroic. It's actually rather embarrassing, which can lead to good drama, if I play it right. But more than that, it's funny, and it could be incredibly funny to watch the ironic tragedy to watch a character try to be a hero, only for everything to go wrong for him in the funniest ways the DM and I can think of. I'm going to have some fun at Kharagon's expense in this campaign. And who knows? Maybe he'll heroically overcome his misfortune and become an epic hero, despite his laughable setbacks. The story could unfold in any number of ways, and many of those ways, though different, would each make for a good story.

Good Endings

Today, my D&D character, Kharagon, almost died, and I was okay with that, not just because he's a fictional character whose death would have been as meaningless as his life, but also because I knew he would be okay.

In D&D, as in real life, there is an afterlife where people who do good and are good during their mortal lives and up somewhere good afterward. My character was (and still is) a Lawful/Good Paladin of high moral standing. He was bound to go to Mount Celestia, where he would seek out the castle of his god, Bahamut, and reaffirm his pledge of eternal service. Kharagon had had a decent life, and he was going to get a decent afterlife, so I was happy for him. Sure, his death could have been more epic or heroic, but all's well that ends well, and if the ending involves living in heaven, that is certainly a good ending.

I don't want anyone I know to die, but I know that we all eventually will. Fortunately, almost everyone I know is a good person, or at least, they seem to try to be, so I'm reasonably certain that they're going to be okay. I still don't want them to die any sooner that they have to, but if they have to die, I guess that's okay. I'll miss them, but I'll also know that they're getting their long-awaited and much-deserved happy ending. I love this story and the characters in it, and I'd be happy letting the story stretch on as long as possible, but I know that it eventually needs to end. Thankfully, I can draw a good deal of comfort from the assurance that our endings will be good ones.

A Sanctuary of Faith

In the very last talk of last General Conference, President Russell M. Nelson said the following about our homes:

We hope and pray that each member’s home will become a true sanctuary of faith, where the Spirit of the Lord may dwell. Despite contention all around us, one’s home can become a heavenly place, where study, prayer, and faith can be merged with love.

I'm grateful that I have such a home, and I hope you do too. When our homes are built on the Gospel of Jesus Christ, they can provide shelter from the storms of life and can empower us to do the Lord's work. The world can be a rough place, but having a sanctuary of faith can help us maintain our standards, even as the rest of the world seems to be lowering theirs. We need strong, Gospel-centered homes, and I count myself as lucky that I have one.

My Angel Mother

By the time anybody reads this, it will be my mother's birthday. On occasions like this, I usually feel like sharing something touching and personal, something that shows how much my mother means to me. Unfortunately, such expressions are hard to put into words and are probably not suited for anything as public as a blog post. Suffice it to say that I wouldn't be anywhere near the man I am today if it wasn't for her. Like Abraham Lincoln, I can say "All that I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel Mother."

I'm nowhere near perfect, and I sometime doubt I ever will be, but I know that I would be in a much darker place without her. She is a beacon of spiritual light. She may not have known what a Paladin is if not for me, but she's the main reason I want to be one. I want to be the sort of person she can be proud of. She's a good mother, and she deserves children to match.

So, my gift to her this year (besides a small donation to the church's humanitarian efforts) is to renew my efforts to be as good a person as she is. My mother is a saint. I owe it to her to try to be one, too.

Justice, Mercy, and Generosity

Today, in church, one of the speakers spoke of God's justice and mercy and how He rewards us for our deeds. The speaker said that God, being merciful bound by the laws of justice, gives us the bare minimum punishment that justice demands and the maximum amount of mercy that justice allows. I don't know it this is doctrinally canon, but it does seem in line with God's character. God doesn't want us to suffer any more than we have to, so it stands to reason that He'd be as lenient and as generous as justice will allow. I sometimes find myself deserving of God's justice, and I am always in need of His blessings, so it's comforting to me to think that God is going to be as kind as He can be with both. At least, I certainly hope He will be.

Relying Too Much on God's Forgiveness

This blog post is late. I owe God an apology. Fortunately, God is forgiving. Yet, we shouldn't depend too much on God's forgiveness. Unfortunately, I'm not sure it's possible to avoid relying too much on God's forgiveness.

We all rely on God's forgiveness to some extent, because we all sin. That's part of th human condition, virtually unavoidable. It's practically part of the plan. But while it may be okay to rely on God's forgiveness, it's not okay to do put ourselves into situations where we would need to. We need forgiveness because we sin, and it's not okay to sin.

We rely on God's forgiveness because we sin. The more we sin, the more we rely on God's forgiveness. In theory, if we never sinned, we would never need to rely on forgiveness. We rely on forgiveness too much when we sin too much, and any amount of sin is too much.

Yet, I may be thinking about this the wrong way. True, any amount of sin is too much to deem acceptable, but no amount of sin is too much for God to forgive. So, while I should never consider it acceptable to put off blogging too late (insofar as it is a sin for me to do so), I can always be forgiven for doing so, given that I repent of it.

So, it both is and is not possible to rely too much on God's forgiveness. It's possible to rely on forgiveness too much if we think that it will excuse our behavior, but it's not possible to rely on forgiveness too much to be forgiven. It's an odd paradox. It's never okay to sin, but if you do sin, as we all do, it can still be okay.

Spiritual Defenses

I know I've already blogged about Elder Rasband's recent General Conference talk, Build a Fortress of Spirituality and Protection, but I want to blog about it again because I want to stress the importance of having strong spiritual defenses. We know that we are at war with Satan and that our enemy is always on the attack. To fight this, we need to have spiritual defenses that are as strong as we can make them. We need good habits that help us steer clear of temptation whenever possible. We need a strong connection with the Spirit, so we can discern when an attack is coming and how we can best prepare to fend off that attack. And we need to have a great deal of will-power so we can effectively put our feet down and resist whatever temptations we cannot avoid.

This battle is ongoing, and our souls and the souls or others are at stake. In this battle, offense is practically useless, since our enemy is immortal. In contrast, defense is everything. The only way we can win this fight is by consistently, nearly constantly, fending off the enemy's attacks and reinforcing our spiritual defenses of good habits, the Spirit of discernment, and a good deal of will-power. As long as we maintain defenses like these, Satan cannot defeat us. Try as he might, and he certainly will, Satan cannot overpower us. His only chance is to get us to let our guard down. That's why it's so vital to constantly maintain strong spiritual defenses.

Don't Wait for Inspiration - Seek It

I find that I keep pushing my blogging back later and later. I tell myself that it's because I don't know what to blog about, and I'm waiting to think of something blogworthy. But that's not how inspiration works. Inspiration only works when we do. We have to actively search for inspiration, not passively wait for it. That's what I plan to do tomorrow. I'm going to actively look for a blogworthy thought, not just passively hope I get one.

Players VS The DM

It's unfortunate, but D&D players and their DMs can form hostile relationships. When this happens, it's fairly understandable. The DMs create and control the monsters that challenge, attack, and sometimes kill the players' characters. The players control the protagonists and the DM controls the antagonists. If the lines between players and characters get blurred, players can easily begin to see the DM as antagonistic. However, I've learned that this perspective is pessimistic and short-sighted.

Firstly, some players view the DM as an enemy because he (or she) causes and/or allows bad things to happen to the characters, but such players may be ignoring the fact that the DM also causes and/or allows good things to happen to the characters as well. Yes, the DMs confront the players with hostile NPCs, traps, and monsters, but the DM also gives the characters friendly NPCs, treasure, and XP. Now, some might argue that the players earn and deserve treasure and XP for killing the monsters, so that's not really a gift from the DM, but DMs sometimes give the characters more XP and treasure than they actually earned.

And, to the extend that characters truly do earn XP and treasure for fighting monsters, that actually makes my second point for me. Players often see monsters as obstacles in the way of getting the XP and treasure they want, but those monsters are actually the vehicles by which they can get their much-desired treasure and XP. To claim a dragon's hoard, one must deal with the dragon. One cannot exist without the other. So, when the DMs give the characters monsters to fight, they are also giving the characters opportunities to earn the XP they crave. DMs give players challenges so they can justify giving the players the rewards of overcoming those challenges.

Of course, all of this applies to us and God as well.

As long as we only think of the crummy things God does to us or allows to happen to us, it can be easy to think that God is against us or that He enjoys watching us suffer, but that couldn't be further from the truth. God loves us and wants to bless us, and He often blesses us far more than we deserve. Yet, some blessings have to be earned, so God presents us with the challenges we have to overcome in order to earn those blessings. For example, the Gift of the Holy Ghost can only come to us after we've been baptized, so God commands us to be baptized. Other commandments bring other blessings, so we would do well to keep those commandments, even if they're hard, so that we can earn the blessings.

So, good DMs aren't against their players any more than God is against us. Instead, we need to trust that their machinations, while seemingly evil at times, are ultimately designed to work or for our benefit. If I can fight through the encounters I need to earn the XP I need to level up (without getting mad at the DM), then I can keep the commandments I need to gain the blessings I need to become a Paladin (without getting mad at God).

God is the DM of real life. I trust Him to give me encounters designed for my benefit.

Comparison May Not Always Be the Thief of Joy

Theodore Roosevelt once said that "Comparison is the thief of joy," and I'm pretty sure someone quoted him in a General Conference talk, which might explain why I've heard this quote before. Taking that quote completely out of whatever context it once had, I wonder if that statement holds true in all cases. Of course, comparing yourself against someone with better numbers than you isn't going to make you happy. Comparing yourself to someone with worse numbers than you isn't much better, as any happiness you might get from that would have to stem from the worse aspect of pride. Yet, I think there is at least one situation in which comparison can bring legitimate joy: Comparing your improved self against your past self. Done carefully, making this comparison can help you realize how far you've come since then, which can give you a healthy kind of pride in your accomplishments. That may not be quite the same thing as "joy" by the Gospel definition, but it's close enough for laymans terms. In general, and in most contexts, the statement is true, but if the comparison is happening against the right person, at the right time, for the right reason, that comparison does not necessarily have to be a thief of joy.

The Appeal of Challenges

I don't see much of the appeal of playing Cuphead or Dark Souls or Getting Over It with Bennett Foddy, games that are notorious for being brutally difficult. I don't see much of the appeal of struggle. Yet, I see the appeal of climbing mountains, and on some levels, it's a very similar thing. Some challenges are rewarding, if only for the satisfaction of overcoming them. People climb mountains for the gorgeous views and a good workout, but there is also the benefit of the sense of accomplishment, and that sense of accomplishment, that satisfaction of success, that feeling of relief and pride, can be a great source of motivation to undertake and/or complete a great challenge.

Life is a great challenge. Life can be difficult, sometimes brutally so, especially if one tries to get through life while maintaining high moral standards. Yet, perhaps the difficulty of life is part of the appeal. We came to Earth to prove ourselves. The difficulties of life help us prove what we're made of and what we can handle. The tougher our challenges are, the tougher we prove ourselves to be when we overcome them.

I suppose it's a matter of pride, though hopefully a positive aspect of pride. The pride that compels us to prove that we're greater than others can be a great stumbling block, but the pride that compels us to prove greater than our challenges can be a great strength.

When I face tough challenges, I'm sometimes tempted to give up. Sometimes, I try to rationalize giving up by telling myself that the benefits of success aren't worth the costs in time or effort, and that may be true, or I may be miscalculating the benefits of succeeding at doing difficult things. Overcoming tough challenges, like climbing mountains and beating Cuphead can be its own reward, as is getting through life. We shouldn't shy away from such challenges. The greater the challenge, the greater the victory.

Guard Towers

Elder Ronald A. Rasband's most recent General Conference talk reminded me that the best fortresses don't just have impenetrable walls; they also had guard towers where guards were stationed to look out for impending attacks. These sorts of defenses are especially important spiritually because Satan rarely attacks us head-on. That is, he rarely assaults the walls. Instead, he tries to sneak in and slip passed our defenses when we're not paying attention. To fight this, our best counter-strategy is to keep paying attention. We need to be mindful of the first signs of attack and raise the alarm as quickly as possible. It can help to look for patterns in when and how Satan usually attacks us and to be extra vigilant against those methods at those times. Our enemy knows that he can't usually beat us in a straightforward fight, so his only winning move is to catch us when we're not on guard, and our only defense against that tactic is to stay on guard. Strong walls are good, but we also need tall towers, and we need to make sure we keep sharp eyes stationed on them. We can't afford to be caught off guard.