Slow & Steady (In Defense of the Anti-Epiphany)

Contrary to what I think is probably popular opinion, I'm not a very emotional person.  At least not generally in a positive way.  It tends to be easier & more natural for me to feel hurt, frustrated, angry, etc. than to feel happy, loved, or enlightened.  I cried over this in counseling this week.  Okay, so I've cried over this in counseling a lot.  But I have felt for so long that something in me is broken, that I simply can't feel.  Getting sober has helped, but it's far from a cure.  There are so many funky screwball barriers compartmentalized within my broken brain that honestly, I'm just working to resign myself to always being a bit damaged.

When it comes to faith & feeling the love of my Heavenly Father, this has been the most epic curse.  I recognize, based on my education & life experiences, that I did the best I could within my own circumstances.  If I'm being compassionate & fair to lost little me, I recognize that I was trying, so hard.  But the thing is, there is a break of about fifteen years between the experiences I remember when I truly believed that my Heavenly Father loved me.  That is so wrong!

When people speak of repentance & knowledge or insight, so often it is this flash of light, this huge undeniable spiritual hug, a flood of conviction.  I'm not sure I have ever had that.  I definitely haven't had it in respect to my addictive behaviors.  There are moments when that breaks my heart.  I wonder sometimes, if I were willing to put in the effort, if I could have the same experience as Enos.

"And my soul hungered; and I kneeled down before my Maker, and I cried unto him in mighty prayer and supplication for mine own soul; and all the day long did I cry unto him; yea, and when the night came I did still raise my voice high that it reached the heavens.  And there came a voice unto me, saying: Enos, thy sins are forgiven thee, and thou shalt be blessed.  And I, Enos, knew that God could not lie; wherefore, my guilt was swept away".
- The Book of Mormon, Enos 1:4-6

Not to compare experiences but that has definitely never been me.  There has been the shaking & tears of shock as I left the office of my compassionate bishop who somehow recognized that instead of condemnation, I desperately needed solace & encouragement.  There has been the recognition that I could never have reached all of these sobriety milestones (almost 14.5 months!) without the Lord having put so many supports within my reach.  Those are vital things to recognize.  I do not discount their value one bit.  They have meant everything to me.  But somehow greedy me wants more.

I have been infinitely fortunate in many areas, but especially in this: I have never doubted that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is exactly what the name represents it to be.  I have never doubted the plan of salvation, the eternal nature of families, or the truth of the atonement of my Savior.  I read something tonight, an article in Deseret News which seems to have gone viral, at least among the LDS community.  It holds 18 pieces of advice from a man who apparently went inactive & then returned to full activity in the church.  One point he made I found interesting, because I have always felt exactly the same except for one vital piece: the advice was to remember that we are not the exception.  This was, naturally, in reference to keeping the laws of God.  

I have never considered myself the exception to the laws of God requiring swift & just punishment.  I lost hope long before I had any idea of what they even meant so I really thought they applied to me, maybe even extra; however, I always believed that I was the exception to the compassionate, merciful laws of God allowing for repentance, growth, change, & eternal joy.  Those couldn't apply to me.  I was the exception.  I appreciate that man's advice, & his bravery in being so open.  But I wonder how many people secretly think like me, that if we are the exception to anything at all it is that we are the exception to God's love.  We are the only one who has somehow managed to become unlovable, unforgivable, irredeemable.  But maybe it's just me.

My mom & I went to the temple this week, & I tried to explain to her how I struggle.  She expressed how happy she is that the temple seems to have come so naturally to me.  I confess, as I have before, how grateful I am that instead of shame or fear I have always felt such peace within the walls of the house of the Lord.  I told her how hard it is for me, that I have never felt forgiven.  I am so tired of checking off lists & recognizing that I must be forgiven because I've confessed everything & I've received my endowments & I felt like I belonged in the temple.  I recognize all of that.  I rejoice in all of that.  But I believe with all my heart that our souls are meant to feel, & I don't exactly know how.

I ache for some big emotional confirmation of where I am, & who I will never be again.  Sometimes it breaks my heart that I can only say "well, I'm pretty sure I must have been forgiven & truly changed because when I enter the temple, I feel like I belong but honestly I guess I don't really know".  I'm a very black & white person, & that feels like something I should really know.  It's something I long to know, & that I fear I will always have to understand instead of feel.  I've been very blessed that my counselor is similar to me in that respect.  He receives no epiphanies, & therefore he is able to empathize with me & let me know that in this I am also not the exception.  Gifts of the Spirit are given as they are needed for my Heavenly Father's plan, & apparently this isn't one of mine.

As for the slow & steady part, well, it's taken me nearly thirty years to enter my Father's house.  It took me about twenty-five years to become permanently set on the path to sobriety, with an innumerable amount of heart-breaking, soul-shattering failures.  I don't understand why it had to be so hard.  I don't understand why I couldn't suddenly be cured.  I don't understand why it appears that in exchange for all the horrific, hellish moments of my past, I "only" get them wiped out.  It may be selfish & stupid, but it would be amazing if, just once, I could have an equally joyful experience.  I want the opposition in all things, & I struggle to trust that it's coming.  I'm trying to separate difficulty trusting from straight-up doubt, & I think I'm improving.

"Yea, I say unto you, my son, that there could be nothing so exquisite and so bitter as were my pains.  Yea, and again I say unto you, my son, that on the other hand, there can be nothing so exquisite and sweet as was my joy".
-The Book of Mormon, Alma 36:21

I want that joy now but you know what?  Joining most of the adult members in my family in the celestial room with the knowledge that the rest are making their way there as well?  That's pretty darn close.  Granted, I was the only family member (love my super awesome friends who were there too) who didn't have a partner & that's a bummer since I know more than ever the vital nature of eternal marriages & families.  But knowing how hard I had to fight to reach that pivotal moment, knowing what it took for me to get this far, holy cow I'm so excited to see what all of this has prepared me to become!  No illusions about it being easy but life is SO GOOD.  And for now, I guess I can wait for the exquisite joy.  I can trust that it's coming & that if were it to come now, it might just be good, maybe great.  Exquisite sounds indescribable so I'll take that, however long it takes.