Sunday Morning Theology

Weakening the Weak

Is it just my house, or do other people have Bathroom Books, too? You know what I mean, I hope. It's that book that sits on the back of the toilet and gets read one or two pages at a time. Since I haven't been blessed with the (seemingly) male talent for spending inordinate amounts of time in the bathroom, I've been getting through my current book, "The Millionaire Next Door," rather slowly.

This week I was reading a few pages about the children of millionaires. It discusses the propensity of successful parents to give too much to their children, enabling excessive spending habits and laziness. It also discusses the differences between the personalities of the children and how that affects their own success later in life. The conclusion it draws is:

The role of enlightened parents is to strengthen the weak. ... [One father] was determined that his children would not have to work so hard and have to face the risk of "doing on their own." But the willingess and ability to work hard, take risks, and sacrifice were the qualities that made him a successful and affluent business owner. Somehow, like many of his peers, he forgot how he became wealthy. Many parents say there is nothing wrong with providing [economic] outpatient care. This is true, perhaps, if the recipients are already well disciplined...

The authors claim that successful parents often fall into the trap of "strengthening the strong" and "weakening the weak." The conclusion drawn by the authors' research? "The more dollars adult children receive, the fewer dollars they accumulate, while those who are given fewer dollars accumulate more."

Three different personalities

Of course no parent wants to weaken the strong, but how do they set about strengthening the weak? I've been thinking about this a lot in regard to my children this week. At the twins' annual checkup, I told our pediatrician that Elijah has a "decided helplessness" that is causing frequent and prolonged temper tantrums. A few minutes later, Elijah said he was thirsty, so our doctor decided to see how Elijah handled this.

What would I have done? Gotten Elijah a drink of water. (Read as: weakening the weak.) The conversation between Elijah and his pediatrician went something like this:

Elijah: I'm thirsty.

Doctor: Okay.

Elijah: Want a drink of water.

Doctor: Is there anywhere around here where you could get water?

Elijah (looking around): The sink.

Doctor: Okay.

Elijah: Need something to put water in.

Doctor: There are some cups in the middle drawer over there.

Elijah (hesitating): Umm...

Doctor: Right there. The middle one.

Elijah (after getting a cup): I can't reach the water.

Doctor: Okay. What can you do?

Elijah: Stand on something.

Doctor: Okay. Is there anything in here you can stand on?

Elijah: The stool!

Doctor: Okay.

Elijah: I want a drink.

Doctor: Okay.

Elijah: Move the stool.

Doctor: You can move the stool.

Elijah: I want a drink.

Doctor: Okay.

Elijah stood there helplessly for quite a while, with Thomas standing next to him impatiently with his own cup. Thomas would have grabbed the cup, gone over to the stool, gotten onto it and helped himself to a cup of water. Elijah stood there helplessly, waiting for somebody to move the stool and put him on it. So we went on with the appointment, talking about other things. Every once in a while, Elijah would insert some comment about wanting to get on the stool or wanting a drink. Every time, our good pediatrician smiled at him and said, "Okay." 

This was a great example to me of how to validate Elijah's need while allowing him to solve problems on his own. Eventually Elijah figured out that nobody was going to do this for him, so he climbed up onto the stool and got himself a drink of water. Problem solved. Problem solved by Elijah. Excellent. 

I've been trying to use this approach with Elijah since then and had good results and somewhat fewer temper tantrums. If he expresses a desire for something, I smile and say, "Okay!" Then I allow him to suggest a solution or I ask him what a solution would be. I hope I'm strengthening him and teaching him to recognize his own strength.

Thomas is a polar opposite. He is markedly solitary and independent, and has been from the moment he was born. He requires little and demands very little. He sits in the background peacefully while everybody fusses over Elijah's neediness. 

I've made a mental note that Thomas still needs attention and affection, even if he doesn't demand it. When he is offered affection, he is the sweetest, most attentive child in the world. On Friday evening, I went in to check on him after he was asleep. I leaned down next to him, kissed his forehead and stroked his hair. In his sleep, he turned to me and put both of his arms around my neck. He pulled me (more forcefully than I would expect from a sleeping child) close to him and I laid my head on his pillow and felt my love for this child growing. Nobody is an island.

What about Joseph? Strong? Weak? Of course, no human should be classified in such absolute terms, but still... I thought about it this morning. I listened to him screaming at his dad, taking charge of his brothers and dealing with situations the best way he could. A mixed bag of appropriateness, but certainly not weak. I thought about when he was born and how he rarely complained when he was poked and prodded in the NICU. He just laid there with tubes and monitors all over his body without complaining.

Those first few days, I remember looking at him and feeling humbled by his strength. I would have been raising heck if I'd had all that stuff connected to me. I had no idea then that this child would be a force to be reckoned with. As one of his teachers once remarked to me, "That child just marches to his own beat, doesn't he?" The challenge with Joseph is helping him to channel all of his strength and energy in positive ways.

The theology of weakness and strength

As I pondered my kids' individual weaknesses and strengths this morning, I contemplated my religious views on the matter. There are a couple important concepts that shape my attitudes as a parent and as a human:

1. God will not give us challenges that we cannot succeed at.

There is a passage in the Book of Mormon that says, "I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them."

What kind of parent would set a child up for failure? Everything needs to be taught line upon line, precept on precept. I have certainly cried to God at times, asking why he would put me in the way of temptations or challenges that seemed too difficult to bear. I have pleaded with him to take the burdens away. 

Then one day, I saw things in a different light. I realized that each challenge that God gives me, that I feel too weak for, is a compliment. He thinks I am strong, when I think I am weak. He knows my strength and is determined to push me to a higher place than I would push myself to. He shows me my strength by His faith in me.

2. God gives us weaknesses, but also gives us strength.

It is through weakness that we discover strength. This is part of the plan for life. Another passage in the Book of Mormon reads, "I give unto men weakness that they may be humble. And my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them."

It is through the humble acknowledgement of weakness that I am pushed into deliberate self-improvement. It requires effort. It requires time and it means I have to push outside of my comfort zone, but it is worth it. I'm talking about spiritual weaknesses here, but I can't help but think about my love of music. 

As I've written before, I have always been very touched by beautiful music. In high school, I would attend my friends' singing concerts and sit in the back of the auditorium quietly crying. They had a gift to create something beautiful--something that touched my heart deeply--and I could never give that gift to myself. I loved music but had exactly zero aptitude for singing. If ever there was a weakness... you'll have to trust me, this was a weakness.

I was 20 years old when I first took a few voice lessons, determined to find the gift of music within myself. Every single lesson I attended required enormous courage. My teacher would visibly cringe and verbally assault me, but we persevered. Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. It was just too far outside my comfort zone, so I stopped. Several years later, I missed having music in my life, so I mustered my courage and found a new voice teacher. She was kind, encouraging and, most importantly, extremely PATIENT with me!

I still find considerable fault with my singing, but I know that I have taken something weak and made it a strength. I am proud of my progress, even if I am still not proficient. I am proud because I did something that I didn't think I could ever do. And every time I sing for other people, I feel my comfort zone slowly expanding and I find new strength within myself.

The moral of the story is...

Weakness comes naturally in life. Imperfection comes naturally in life. Everybody has their own cocktail of weaknesses and strengths. When I think about my own cocktail, I know I'd be the consummate hypocrite to look down on others. 

Another important point of my theology is the belief that the atonement of Christ enabled him to experience the whole spectrum of weakness, pain and temptation possible. That makes him uniquely qualified to judge the human race. Nobody else who lives on this earth--nobody--can act the part of The Judge. To look down on others with a proud attitude is not only an offense to other humans, but it is an offense to God. It is the worst form of pride to think that we are equal to His understanding and ability to judge. 

This is the basic tenet of my own understanding of charity: the knowledge that I can never experience or fully understand another person's temptations and sorrows. And I cannot guess at the hidden strength that God is waiting to pull out of other people.

What does this mean for me, as a parent? I need to guide my children a little at time to discover the strength that lies within them. I need to enable others around me to discover their own strength. When they feel weak, I can tell them it's "okay" to feel that way, and then help them to move on and solve problems for themselves. I can encourage them to step outside their comfort zone, which will require me to step outside of my own anxiously hovering comfort zone, too. I can't guess how they might rise to a challenge or fall to temptation, but I can show them that I have faith in them even when they stumble.

And I can lead by example, being confident myself and laughing at my own  mistakes instead of brooding and feeling helpless or hopeless. We will hold each other by the hand, not pushing or pulling, but encouraging each other onward.