If The Bishop Sat Behind Me

At Stake Conference, my family typically sits on the stage at the back of the overflow, where we can get a distant but clear view of the speakers, and we're not the only ones. This year, the Bishop of our Ward sat behind us on the stage, and a friend of mine from another Ward sat next to me. My friend and I talked about a game we both played, one that fairly recently involved the slaying of ogres that were either much stronger or much weaker than what you'd typically expect from ogres, depending on what type of ogres you're thinking of, and either much stronger or a bit weaker than they should have been. Since I was primarily in charge of arbitrating the strength of the ogres, we discussed what adjustments should be made during this and future encounters with ogres from this group.

As I look back on it, it was not the kind of conversation one should have just before Stake Conference, and it certainly shouldn't have continued while the opening song was being sung. I'm almost surprised that my Mom didn't nudge me and that the Bishop didn't tap me on the shoulder, and I'm embarrassed to admit that I would have deserved it if they had.

There's a primary song that I'm fond of which includes the words "If the Savior stood beside me, would I say the things I say?" The song goes on to ask what other actions we might or might not take if Jesus were nearby. Until recently, I thought that that would make a good measuring stick for personal conduct, to ask myself "Would I be doing this if I knew Jesus was watching me do it?" And the kicker, as sung in the final verse, is that He is.

He is always near me, though I do not see Him there,
And because He loves me dearly, I am in His watchful care,
So I'll be the kind of person that I know I'd like to be
If I could see the Savior standing nigh, watching over me.

But I wasn't. I went on talking about ogres, how many levels of barbarian they should have had, and what their Challenge Rating might have been if they had been that weak or that strong, even as the meeting was beginning, even with the Bishop sitting almost directly behind where I was sitting. It was distasteful, and owe everyone that was within earshot of me an apology.

It also taught me that I'm not as good as I think I am. I sometimes think of myself as a paladin, upholding high moral standards to maintain my honor (mostly because I hope that mental image will help inspire me to live up to it), but I'm not quite there yet. Even at church, even with my religious leader sitting close enough that he could lean over and literally breathe down my neck, had he wanted to, I failed a basic, easy test of propriety and morally motivated priorities. In that moment, I did not behave like a paladin, nor did I act like Jesus might be watching me, even though I knew my Bishop was.

But that's the purpose of role-models, isn't it? To help us be better than we normally are? We all have flaws and shortcomings. One of mine is that I'm a bit too fond of games. Being a paladin and having the Bishop behind me should have encouraged me to be more Christlike, and perhaps they are doing that - just a few days too late.

Thankfully, that was not my final test, and even if it were, I think God cares more about our hearts than our actions. My heart was not in the right place that morning, but I hope that it's closer to the right place now. I have repented and I'll try to control myself better next time. That's all any of us can really hope to do. We all need to strive to become better than we are, and maybe, hopefully, having good people around us might help.