I've been thinking a lot about Jesus. About perfectionism. About falling. About grace. I've been thinking about these things for months, trying to figure out how to put everything together in a way that makes sense.
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I grew up in the Church of Jesus Christ, but I didn't know Jesus. I didn't understand Him or the role He was supposed to play in my life. I knew lots about Him of course, about His birth and miracles and Atonement and crucifixion and resurrection. I knew He died for me so I could live again and Atoned for me so I could live with God again. And I was grateful of course, but it was hard to really feel the gratitude. Jesus took the backseat to other, more important, gospel topics.
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| Like lots of young women my age, I spent a lot of time trying to develop these attributes without really understanding why. |
(I think it's important to note here that while "gospel" literally means "good news of Jesus Christ", I always took it to mean "teachings of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints". When I thought about sharing the gospel, I thought about bringing others to the Church specifically, not to Christ.)
As a teenager, I loved to study my scriptures. I read them every single morning for more than two years and cheerfully marked up my margins with things to improve on. I remember once reading a scripture on spiritual attributes like faith, charity, kindness, gentleness, etc. and deciding to work on one per month for a year. Every time I went to church or seminary, I wrote in my journal things I could be better at: pray more sincerely, look for opportunities to serve, share the gospel with my friends, and so on. In every aspect of my life, the gospel was something that I did, something that I lived, and something that I worked at. People told my mom all the time what good kids she had, and I thrived on that. I loved to share my thoughts in young women's classes. I loved knowing that I was a "noble and great one", saved for the last days because of my righteousness. Somewhere along the road, I got the idea that the less I sinned, the less Christ would have to suffer for me specifically in the Garden. I would be as perfect as I could since I figured He probably had enough on His plate, you know, saving the rest of humanity and such.
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| During a temple trip with the young women (not this picture), one of the workers read us the scripture from D&C about us being the "noble and great ones", saved for the last days to do a great work. |
I don't know that I ever had the specific thought, "I'll just save myself." But looking back, I think that's exactly what I was trying to do. I knew Jesus had died for me, and that part I related to because obviously I couldn't raise myself from the dead. I needed Him for that. But Jesus had also Atoned for me, and a lot of the time that just made me feel guilty. Like I was causing Him pain because I couldn't just be good enough. I didn't like to feel guilty, so I didn't spend a lot of time thinking about Jesus.
As I entered my senior year of high school, I was preparing to serve a mission and share the gospel with the world. I was going to go out and bring souls to the True Church and thereby enable their eternal salvation. This was something I'd wanted to do since I was twelve years old, and I knew God had kept that fire burning in my soul because this was what I was supposed to do. He needed me, and I was going to be a great missionary for Him.
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| Graduating from the Church's high school seminary program was the first step to becoming a great missionary for the Church. |
But it turns out, I never did do that. In fact, when I went to college, I stopped reading my scriptures, gradually at first, then all at once. I knew I was letting God down, so I didn't pray as much. I did things that would have made my younger self ashamed of me. I caused Christ pain. And I didn't want to think about that, so I just... didn't. I still went to church, still attended the temple occasionally, still taught my Sunday School class, but always there was this dissonance inside me. The idea that not only had I not ventured into the world to save souls, but I had actually lost my own in the process. I had tried to be perfect, and I had failed.
For more than five years, I was deeply ashamed of myself.
Click here for Part 2.
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