Banker's Hours

I have been thinking about relationships today, and, oddly enough, Heleman 5:16 in the B.O.M. came to mind:

“And now, my sons, remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall.”

To me, this passage is one of the most beautiful and insightful in the Book of Mormon.  I think the imagery of the Savior and how his atonement affects our lives in the midst of disaster can also be applied to a host of other earthly circumstances, including our relationships with family and friends. 

Today, I have not thought much about the good times.

Instead, I removed the rose-colored glasses and thought about some of the rotten ones.

The relationship storms. 

The thunderclouds that overshadow the seamless blue sky of our niceties and place us at odds with our loved ones.

The disagreements. 

The arguments 

The grudges.

The mighty winds.

The shafts in the whirlwind.

I suspect that these and other types of relationship rumbles were high on Heleman’s list of things that, if we let them, could peel us back from the rock of our redeemer.  The passage does not give us false hope by saying “if” the devil shall send forth his mighty storms. Rather, it truthfully warns us what to do “when” the devil shall send forth his mighty storms.

So when the storms of strife and contention come - and they will - why do some relationships crumble while others outlast the pounding?

There are probably a lot more semantics to that question than I will ever be able to address here, but my own circumstances point toward Steven Covey’s analogy of the emotional bank account. Covey’s idea of the emotional bank account is based on the law of the harvest. Metaphorically, it states that we should be constantly building our relationship balances (trust) with deposits of genuine appreciation, positive attention, sincere apologies, kept promises  and acts of service. When we make an emotional withdrawal, which can involve criticism, sarcasm, cruelty, or failing to keep promises, we lose a measure of that currency (trust) commensurate with the severity of the action. The only thing that will restore the account to its former balance is a series of subsequent deposits.

Makes sense, right?

You get what you pay for.

Now before you skip ahead of me and quote the Savior’s mandate to forgive others, including our enemies (repentant or not), let’s remember that the idea of the emotional bank account does not represent our willingness to let go of a grudge.

It represents trust.

I think trust runs a little deeper and closer to the heart than what can be accomplished in realm of immediate willpower.

In fact, it is the core of our being….the innermost chamber of our heart.

It is a part of us that cannot be taken by force.

Therefore, trust is something that, in large measure, should be worked out between the parties involved.

This does not mean that God is uninvolved in our trust issues, nor does it give us permission to be ruthless creditors (remember the unjust servant?) or lax in our payment schedules.  The Spirit is always encouraging us to restore our overdrawn accounts to their natural order, whether we are the offender or the one offended. In many such instances, there are significant funds available through the atonement that can act as a permanent “trust fund” if the debt cannot be fully restored.  In most situations, however, there must be a financial investment of our own.

Here’s a short case study:

A few years ago, I got into a major rift with some people I was very close to.  Tempers raged and the sword of truth (more like the dagger of perception) was brandished without much aim or restraint. When the smoke cleared and it was time to survey the damage, I was really surprised by how I felt.  My heart was broken. As I imagined the wasteland that represented the final destination of our bickering, I realized that our emotional account must remain open at all costs. Ironically, the heat of battle had taken me to the perfect place to earn a little currency:  I didn't care anymore who was right. For a guy like me, that’s a heck of a place to earn a few emotional bucks, but it was the start of good things.

Over the next few months, I found that while there were thousands of dollars in trust that had been withdrawn during our dispute, our account was never really in danger of closing out. In fact, there were millions more hidden away somewhere in a safety deposit box that I hadn’t accounted for.  The knowledge of that extra storehouse gave me confidence in making monthly, weekly, and then daily deposits to balance the books. Soon, the emotional bank was thriving and the episode seemed like a bad dream.The point of my mentioning this is simple: though the group I speak of endured a fairly heavy barrage of emotional bank withdrawals, we were prepared for the storm and weathered the buffeting well.

How did we do that?

Somehow, it had happened over decades….in hundreds of things I hadn't really noticed. Conversations, jokes, lunch in the mall, watching TV. Not just shallow, cliché conversations  but good, soul-searching talks. Inside-jokes that probably no one could have understood but us. Things I didn't think about twice while they were happening, but that wound up making us exceedingly rich over time. Fortunately, the story had a happy ending, and we wound up stronger than before the storm occurred.

A few years later, I was involved in a tiff with some other folks in my life. This time, the withdrawal was very minor…maybe a few hundred dollars. The problem was, there was not a huge nest egg sitting in the safety deposit box that could be leveraged against the withdrawal. There were a lot of reasons for that lack of funding - some my fault, some not - but the law of the harvest was pretty quick to pronounce the verdict:

Account overdrawn.

What seemed to be a small thing turned into a big mess.

From the outside looking in, it didn't seem make much sense, but from an insider’s perspective, natural laws were simply running their course. We didn't have a padded trust account because most of our conversations progressed no further than the weather. There certainly weren't many inside jokes among us. Truth be told, awkwardness described our situation better than anything else.  We were a bunch of people meeting up every now and then to exchange pleasantries because we were supposed to. There was an aloof coolness that permeated our dealings, and slowly, surely, the trust dwindled down to a zero balance. When the seemingly insignificant withdrawal came, there was nothing left to cover it.

How did we fix the broken piggy bank? I still haven’t quite figured it out. In the meantime, I have learned some important lessons out of the emotional bank analogy:

1.          Life’s not perfect. Some of the best moments in sports history were made by injured athletes playing through pain. So it is with us. Our relationships will never be perfect in this life, and neither will we. We have to learn to play with pain.
2.       No matter how hard we try, there will always be someone who doesn't like us. Not just a casual, uninformed critic, but one who knows us on a personal level. One who understands exactly what we are about… and spurns us anyway.  That’s OK too.

In the midst these imperfections, there will be joys. For instance, I believe that somewhere out there, each of has one person who can float us a loan to tide us over if we need some emotional currency.  Someone who has looked into our soul, seen all of the heroic good and hellish evil that exists in that space, and loves us anyway.  Someone who will laugh with us when no one else understands what is funny. “Someone,” as the movie said, “with a friendly face.”

In considering the differences between heaven and hell, Emmanuel Swedenborg pointed out that to love people without loving principle was to love evil. The idea sounds harsh, but I think it is probably true. That said, I think our love of people must extend a bit beyond our principles in order to keep it real. Otherwise, isn't our attempt at charity just another performance-based sport? I don’t think we need any more of those than we already have. Until the day when all our accounts are somehow balanced, I have faith that there is an accountant up there that knows a lot more than I do about human nature…and how to overcome it.  He drops me a few dollars here and there when I need it, and bails me out when I’m bankrupt.  He even matches my Christmas club.

Because of Him, I can say that my bank will be open at 9:00 sharp for business tomorrow.

  

Rain or shine.

Or heaven forbid... wind, hail and a mighty storm.

One Dish at a Time

Back in the summer of 2000, I found myself standing at one of those archetypal crossroads that would have a big impact on the next ten years or so of my life. The scenery was typical for a guy in his early-thirties: I was unhappy with my employment situation and was looking to make a last-minute change before I hit 40.

Not long after I handed over my two-weeks notice, the powers-that-be sent a very likable guy down from corporate to reason with me. The company had invested a large sum of corporate "play money" in my training, and was hoping to extend their profit by talking me down from the ledge of my work-related grievances. After a lengthy discussion, I was told that I needed to better develop the ability to “compartmentalize” my life. In short, this would involve choosing to methodically think about one thing at a time while allowing other important (but not as important) matters to fall temporarily by the wayside.

At the time, I smiled, shook hands, and said I would consider the advice. In the back of my mind, though,  I thought I had been given a fool's errand – rose-tinted advice that was hopelessly idealistic. I ended up leaving the company shortly thereafter because, to me, there were just too many things going wrong simultaneously within the organization to efficently deal with.

As I have gotten older, I have realized that I was missing a couple of important elements that may have helped to translate this idea of compartmentalization into a more realistic option.

The first of these problems was simple:

I had poor vision.

More specifically and less metaphorically, I lacked a correct mental and spiritual picture of what really matters most.....and it didn't have anything to do with which policies were being implemented at the office.

I doubt a person needs to be affiliated with an organized religion to recall discussions or sermons addressing end-of-life priorities and what kinds of things we are likely to remember at that time.  I believe this topic catches our interest for at least one reason. Most people, regardless of social class or standing, end up saying similar things when they face the end of mortal life....and these insights run counter to the inclinations of those still swimming in the fast-moving current of work, family obligations and other interests. For example, I doubt many of us will come to regret our attempts to live with an open heart in our increasingly sterile emotional climate. The so-called saccharin-soaked axioms we embrace during our time on earth may well end up being the sweetener we enjoy during our last few days in mortality. I believe we will find that a simple hug or the memory of a verbal sentiment will increase its value a hundredfold when we arrive at that junction. On the other hand, I wonder how many business interests, intellectual pursuits, or other secular accomplishments we will savor when our time comes. I’m guessing not many. While I believe we develop good character traits and gain valuable experiences against the backdrop of our worldly interests, I think we will ultimately find that the profound satisfaction we seek  masquerades in the guise of the simple opportunities outside of our paychecks, the internet or even the election polls.

 Using myself as an example, I can remember a day when I had  performed (in my perception) at a high level at work. In the course of duty, I encountered and overcame challenges that stimulated my mind and invigorated my sense of creativity. I came home feeling pretty good about myself, sure that I had made a meaningful contribution to my section of the vineyard. At the end of that particular day, however, I had the distinct impression come over me that the most useful work I had participated in all day was to help my wife do the dishes after dinner.

Imagine that!

Though we all know the principle behind this impression is probably true, our minds have a hard time accepting it. There is beauty in the mundane, but we have to choose it to see it. I think this is true for guys and gals alike.

Sometimes I feel like I want to grab life by the scruff of its chaotic neck and give it a thumping.

I want to try to add something in the mix that will make my way of thinking seem brilliant.

I want to analyze.

I want to get the credit for figuring it all out on my own.

I want to be important and make a mark on this world that will last for generations!

Sound even vaguely familiar?

The 61st section of the Doctrine and Covenants gives us some food for thought.

“This Revelation was “given through Joseph Smith the Prophet, on the bank of the Missouri River, McIlwaine’s Bend, 12 August 1831 (see History of the Church, 1:202–5). On their return trip to Kirtland, the Prophet and ten elders had traveled down the Missouri River in canoes.”

Moving to verse three, he states:

“But verily I say unto you, that it is not needful for this whole company of mine elders to be moving swiftly upon the waters, whilst the inhabitants on either side are perishing in unbelief.”

I have always interpreted this passage to mean that we shouldn’t get so focused one aspect of our life's mission that we miss the importance of other less obvious parts that, truth be told, are more relevant and useful in that particular moment than what we had our minds set on. Joseph wholeheartedly believed He was on an errand form the Lord. The Spirit didn't correct his mission of his purpose....he simply told him to slow down! A sense of purpose and direction are great, but not if we are ignoring opportunities that present themselves to us as we travel. That means different things for each one of us, but the beauty of the principle is that it doesn't take much thought to figure out where it applies in our particular circumstances

Haven’t you ever packed for a trip?

Wasn’t it exciting to get on the entrance ramp to a superhighway, floor the gas petal, and commence the journey?

The sensations and anticipation of traveling toward a given destination are so compelling that sometimes it doesn’t even matter if we’re headed in the right direction…or if that broken-down car on the side of the road needs a couple of seconds of our time to make sure they have a cell-phone and a ride.

It's about being in control of our lives....but not.

It's about holding on to our goals and our plans...but loosely.

Living with this kind of balance involves focus, thought-control, and yes, compartmentalization. When the things that matter are well-tended, compartmentalization becomes much easier because our consciences aren’t bursting through the walls of our compartment with accusations of what should have been done or what might have been.

We are, as my boss put it, traveling light.

It’s not rocket science. In fact, it’s pretty basic…and I think that’s what makes it so difficult to do day in and day out.

The second character flaw that contributed to my inability to salvage my aforementioned job  is also pretty basic, and it ties in closely with the first:

I was not square with the Lord.

Over the years, I have found that if my life is not in order,  I will not feel peace. If I do not feel peace, my thoughts resemble a tornado. They are chaotic, short, and stormy. I also end up feeling a sense of unease and a sort of disconnect from all that is good. This creates negative momentum, and makes choosing correct actions (which usually involve sacrifice) a little bit harder,  and choosing to be selfish (which involves no effort other than indulgence) a little bit easier.

Ever watch football?

Al Pacino got it right in Any Given Sunday:

It’s a game of inches.

Most of the epic battles we see on ESPN are won or lost in those insignificant inches. We don't see most of those hard fraught inches through the tangle of arms and legs and the dust of the chaos near the line. Instead,  we think that the more visible, highly sensationalized  quarterback or star receiver was the uncontested hero of the play. In some instances, they were. In others, we might not have  noticed the efforts of the offensive lineman who gave the quarterback time to throw the ball down field, or the tight end who made a key block that set the play up.

Our focus allowed us to see only the throw and the touchdown and we thought: "Well....you're either  a hero...or your not."

The reality is much more inspiring...and terrifying.

Heroes are forged in the inches.

There are two things in life that I have found bring me into a negative momentum when I am  trying to collect a few of those inches:

1.      Small, almost imperceptible lapses in character

2.      Inattention to repentance once these transgressions occur. 

The reality is that sin hurts. Don't get me wrong - the offenses I tend to brush under the carpet are not of the nature that torment my conscience for any extended period of time. I do not have that much stamina. Instead, I might endure a brief sting of conscience, an “I probably shouldn’t have said/done that”, and the episode is over.

Or is it?

I have found that if I lose enough of these moral inches, my spirit will experience an almost imperceptible shift. Somehow, I end up bending more and more in the wrong direction. While I may not experience the torment of soul Alma the younger did in the Book of Mormon, I inadvertently enact the invisible but powerful law of momentum against myself.

Choosing the right thing the next time will be just a little bit harder.

Choosing the wrong path will be just a bit easier.

It is subtle.

It is silent.

It is insidious.

Yet it is true.

I find that I do much better if I address these moral inches daily with the Lord, or if need be, with the appropriate person(s). This requires a certain measure of diligence, patience and humility, but the result is a restful conscience and a feeling of having the atonement at work in my life.

Ironically, I am struggling with an issue of the heart at the present moment that is getting the better of me.

In dark moments, I hunch my shoulders and tell the Lord he asks too much.

In more enlightened times, I realize that he never asked me to carry the whole load…just to walk one step at a time in the right direction. Sylvester Stallone's famous line from Over the Top - "The world don't meet nobody halfway!" - while true in the secular world, is anything but true in the spiritual world.
 
More fitting is the score for that movie, sung by Kenny Logins:

Meet me halfway....across the sky. 

So what does all of this rambling about momentum  have to do with compartmentalization, and why am I thinking about the topic today?

It didn’t take me long to scroll through the Facebook posts this morning and see that many of my friends are struggling with things that that are largely out of our hands at this moment.

Maybe you are one of the ones celebrating the results of the presidential election.

Maybe you are not.

Either way, my humble take on the situation is thus:

If your hurting, it's OK to lick your wounds.

Then, when you are in a better place, focus on what you CAN do.

Then go do it.

My church's press release this morning was timely:

"We congratulate President Obama on winning a second term as President of the United States.

After a long campaign, this is now a time for Americans to come together. It is a long tradition among Latter-day Saints to pray for our national leaders in our personal prayers and in our congregations. We invite Americans everywhere, whatever their political persuasion, to pray for the President, for his administration and the new Congress as they lead us through difficult and turbulent times. May our national leaders reflect the best in wisdom and judgment as they fulfill the great trust afforded to them by the American people.

We also commend Governor Romney for engaging at the highest level of our democratic process, which, by its nature, demands so much of those who offer themselves for public service. We wish him and his family every success in their future endeavors."

I join my prayers at this time with those of my church and those of other faiths that this will be a time for peace.

Not just for peace in our political world, but, more importantly,  for that individualized peace that comes from above “which surpasses all understanding.”

The peace that will allow each of us, happy or sad, to see beyond the stark lines of our divisions and move forward.

The peace that will allow us to accept and, if necessary, to compartmentalize our thoughts and disappointments so that we are still effective in our own lives.

The peace that reminds us that win, lose or draw, the most important thing any of us can do by the end of today might end up happening underneath our own roofs.... while helping out with the dishes after dinner.