I recently attended a women's conference at Brigham Young University and was profoundly affected by two of the sessions I attended. This post is an attempt to combine what I learned from both. Let me preface my thoughts by admitting that I am one of those mothers who has always felt it is her God-given duty to attempt to alleviate, as much as humanly possible, the pain of her children. It seems that when God made my heart, he attached helicopter blades to it. I sometimes erroneously feel that rescuing is the most important part of a mother's job description. However, I am slowly learning that sometimes "the best rescue is not a rescue at all," as quoted from the eloquent title of the women's conference class by the same name. In actuality, I really only have the power to work out my own salvation, as stated in Phillipians 2:12:
Wherefore, my beloved, as ye have always obeyed, not as in my presence, but so much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling. My job is to grasp hold of my Savior's hand and thus, provide an example of faith to those I love, while offering unconditional love and comfort. Many times, it is not our hand that our loved ones need in order to be rescued, it is His.
His hand is outstretched still (Isaiah 9:12)
With that precursor, let me tell you what I learned. First and foremost, God's hand is continually and lovingly outstretched to us, no matter our struggles and sins, but we must be the ones to figuratively grasp it. He is unfailingly committed to us even if we falter in our commitment to Him. Sometimes we blame Him for the hurt and disappointment that inevitably confronts us, forgetting that God wouldn't put us through a refiners fire if we weren't worth refining. Sometimes when that refiners fire seems to be consuming one or more of our children, our natural response is to want to put it out, forgetting that God holds the water. In fact, he is the water--the Living Water. In reality, the best thing we can do is to turn our loved ones over to Him. They are His anyway. Who better to know what they need for growth and development than their perfect, all-knowing, all-loving Father in Heaven.
And when he came to himself . . . he arose, and came to his father (Luke 15:11-24)
Think of the parallels we see all around us to the benefits of struggle. The butterfly must struggle to free itself from the bondage of its chrysalis without any outside help in order to develop strong enough wings to fly. The bird must peck its way through its egg-shaped prison in order to be strong enough to survive. The list goes on. Perhaps God is trying to teach us something. If the prodigal son's father would have sent his servants to find his son before he lost everything and "came to himself," would he have learned his lesson in those dark days of living among the swine? No! The decision to come home had to be his, but when he came home, the comforting arms of his father were waiting. Our job is to "comfort those that stand in need of comfort" and let the Savior do the rescuing. We must all come to ourselves and find our own way back into His loving arms.
Therefore let your hearts be comforted . . . for all flesh is in mine hands; be still and know that I am God (Doctrine and Covenants 101:16
If you have ever felt your thoughts racing at ever-increasing speed and obsessing about a struggling family member, if you feel hypervigilant and overly-critical, then you are experiencing something that many loving people experience--codependency. Simply stated, it is the tendency of a person to have obsessive thoughts about the rescuing of a loved one. It is Satan's counterfeit to charity (see Moroni 7:5, The Book of Mormon). I have been in codependent denial most of my life, thinking for the most part that I was a humble person willing to submit to God's will, only to find out that codependency is a pride disease. I have not been as willing as I should to turn my life and the lives of my loved ones over to God, allowing him to show us our blind spots. I have been trying to take the motes out of everyone else's eyes rather than getting rid of the blinding beam in my own (see 3 Nephi 14:3-5). Charity requires me to "be still" and let God take over, listening for the quiet promptings that reveal where my help is needed in His rescue efforts. Our best defense against the onslaught of emotions that come with a crisis of faith is to gain a personal relationship with Christ. Next time, I am tempted to rescue a loved one, I must run quickly to the Lord.
Questions and Remembers
Am I unknowingly shaming a loved one in my efforts to enlighten him/her or am I allowing his/her own guilt to do its work?
Shame's message: I am something bad. Shame causes us to flee God.
Guilt's message: I did something bad. Guilt turns us to God.
Am I doing something for someone that they could do themselves, thus denying them increased strength from the struggle?
Remember: Consequences are sometimes the only way our loved ones know that they need help.
Remember: No matter the path that people choose around me. I must choose love.
Remember: My loved one is not his weakness and thankfully, I am not mine.
Remember: Sometimes we have to place all that we have on the altar of faith.
Footnote
The following LDS Women's Conference classes provided much of the information for this post:
We First Seek Unity with Our Father in Heaven and His Son Jesus Christ (Brad Wilcox)
Sometimes the Best Rescue is Not a Rescue at All (Christine Dixon & Emily Henderson)
