Up to this point I haven't had much
difficulty in coming up with topics to blog about. It seems like God has had so much to teach me
on such a consistent basis that there is no end to the subjects that feel fresh
and new to me. This week, however, it
hasn't come as easily as before. I don't
think it's because I'm suddenly less in sync with the Spirit. In fact, I think it's a positive sign.
There is a certain atmosphere of
accomplishment I call the "maxed out" feeling. It typically comes when I've just finished
hitting my stride in some aspect of my life, such as a job, a life situation, and
even and especially a particular spiritual perspective on life. The Lord is constantly mixing things up and
making things interesting. He has a way
of causing pillars of our lives that we previously thought were as constant as
gravity to crumble to Pixie Stix powder. When the Lord is actively involved,
we often reach a point when, although we haven't learned everything we could possibly from a situation, the new
information and experiences we would get from maintaining the status quo wouldn't
be nearly as effective as it had been in the past. That is the time for change.
The descriptive effectiveness of the
phrase "maxed out" is limited because
it implies some kind of finite barrier that we hit in our learning that
completely cuts off our upper progress.
To the best of my understanding, such a barrier only exists among
Satan's third of heaven and the sons of perdition. In contrast, the "maxed out"
feeling comes when our progress reaches a peak and begins to slow down.
Oftentimes we are so comfortable in our
present paradigm that we try to cling too hard to where we are or how we think
because it is familiar to us. This
frequently happens in those moments when we think we have found the most
important principle of the Gospel. Said
Elder Packer:
"The
gospel might be likened to the keyboard of a piano—a full keyboard with a
selection of keys on which one who is trained can play a variety without limits...
How shortsighted it is, then, to choose a single key and endlessly tap out the
monotony of a single note, or even two or three notes, when the full keyboard
of limitless harmony can be played."
On another occasion he said: "Some members of the Church who should know better pick out a hobby key or two and tap them incessantly, to the irritation of those around them. They can dull their own spiritual sensitivities. They lose track that there is a fulness of the gospel, . . . [which they reject] in preference to a favorite note. This becomes exaggerated and distorted, leading them away into apostasy."
On another occasion he said: "Some members of the Church who should know better pick out a hobby key or two and tap them incessantly, to the irritation of those around them. They can dull their own spiritual sensitivities. They lose track that there is a fulness of the gospel, . . . [which they reject] in preference to a favorite note. This becomes exaggerated and distorted, leading them away into apostasy."
I think that might be my
favorite quote by Elder Packer.
Oftentimes I rediscover a new spiritual note or combination of notes that I
haven't heard in quite the same way before.
I get so excited that I set aside what I have been working on so I can
practice hitting those notes just right.
While I'm never going to be absolutely perfect at playing them, and although
a certain amount of practice is necessary to be proficient, there comes a point
in time when I've gotten good enough at hitting those notes that continuing to play
the same thing over and over again would cross the line from productive to irritating.
This doesn't mean that I should
never play those notes again, or that I won't find something later on that will
make them better, it just means that I need to see those notes for what they
are: a single measure in the symphony God
is composing for my life. I need to let
those notes fall into their appropriate place in my life. I should ever appreciate them but never cling
to them. I should recognize that God has
an endless supply of measures for me to receive, cherish, and learn from, of
which those notes are but a single glittering gem. I know all that.
Then why is it so hard?
It's hard because we
come to love those notes so much. They
become a part of who we are. We want to
stand by them and be loyal to them at all hazards, to tell everyone about them.
To paint murals and tell stories and
write blog posts about them, not realizing that the time may come when it would
be better for us to let them slip from our tightly clenched grasps and be placed
a box in the corner of our hearts, to be treasured on a different day.
Wherever you are in your
eternal progression, when God doesn't hand you the topic He wants you to write
about that week on a silver platter and you realize that He is beginning to work
with you slightly differently from how He has in the past, let your love of the
Lord propel you onward toward the next gleaming sunrise. The one painted in the sky by your Father just
for you. The one just around the
bend.