Dad was in the kitchen engaging in
his evening ritual: a cocktail of Scotch and water. And as usual, he had some
jazz standards playing to help him relax. I sat on the sofa enjoying the breeze
blowing in through the open door from the beach across the street. Each summer
that I came home from Brigham Young University, I grew to appreciate the
perfect Southern California climate I’d taken for granted in high school.
The light from the
setting sun painted the room with golden light. But, despite the beautiful
evening, I sat in distress. Too bad I couldn’t have a cocktail to take the edge
off. I mean, I was 21, and legally I could. But when I was 16, I’d decided to
become active in the Mormon church. So instead of joining my dad for a drink,
which I’m sure he would have heartily welcomed, I sat ready to go meet my date,
unable to bring myself to leave.
That summer, like
whenever we were in the same vicinity, I picked up my relationship with my
on-again, off-again non-Mormon boyfriend. Yet, as the years went by, it became
harder to brush aside our major difference: religion. I’d often reel over how
we could get past the religion piece, figuring there must be a solution I just
wasn’t seeing, a way for me to remain faithful and still maintain the
relationship.
In an
uncharacteristic move, I opened up. “I don’t know what to do, Dad.”
Perceptively, he
knew what I was referring to without me explicitly saying. He took a sip of his
drink and shifted his eyes towards mine with a knowing glance. “Stick with your
own kind,” he said.
I laughed, amazed
that he knew what I was referring to and at his very politically incorrect way
of giving advice. Yet, his words would be the nudge I needed to help me
consider moving on from a relationship that didn’t feel right.
At that time, like
a self-righteous 21-year-old, I figured there wasn’t much my dad could say that
would impact me. After all, I was Mormon and he wasn’t. But when he spoke that
phrase, I recognized that his fatherly advice was wise and inspired, even if
partially by J&B.
This instance was
just one of many making up the long, slow tutorial from God that I am no more
spiritually evolved nor wise than my non-member friends and family. There are
many important lessons I have learned from having relationships with people who
believe differently than I do.
My dad is a jokester. I used to get extremely offended by
the wise cracks he’d often make about my religion. When I was in my early
twenties it would get me really worked up. “Why doesn’t he know that there are
certain things you don’t joke about?” I ‘d think. “To put down my religion is to put me down.”
But in my late twenties, I had an epiphany. I realized that
these jokes weren’t about me. Joking was his way of reaching out, for better or
for worse. I could choose to take it personally, or I could let it roll off my
shoulders and love him anyway. When I realized his jokes were more about him
than about me, everything changed. I somehow didn’t take offense anymore. Even
though his jokes continued, they miraculously didn’t bother me. He is loving and
generous; it would be foolish to allow something like the way he jokes to ruin
our relationship.
I have been blessed since I made the decision to love,
instead of to be offended. We’ve grown close and, almost two years ago, my
family even moved 10 minutes away from him. He has been such a blessing and
example in my life. My dad is a hard worker. With the Lion’s Club he serves
selflessly in the community. He is a successful entrepreneur but will paint
sidewalks in the ghetto and scrub down greasy grills for community events. He
goes to Mexico to donate glasses and fixes up campgrounds for the blind and
sight impaired. I could have easily
missed learning from him and enjoying all the love he gives to me and my family
if I’d chosen to be offended and to consider myself more righteous than him.
My older sister is talented and vivacious—a free spirit. To
be with Terra is to be expanding your frame of reference. When I decided to be
Mormon at 16, she remained decidedly not Mormon. And throughout the years, she’s challenged
me. She cleverly uses Mormon teachings to get me to see things her way. She says
things like, “If you believe so much in being Christlike, then why won’t you
help me with this project.” Or, “If you
believe so much in family, why won’t you travel (from your home in Mexico City
even though you have four kids) for this sibling’s weekend I planned.” She’s
always had a way of making me think about whether I’m living what I profess to
believe. More than any of that, she is a
constant learner. Whether its massage, aromatherapy, yoga, or gut health, she
gets certified or becomes an expert in whatever she’s interested in. When I’m
around her she makes me believe I am grand and that I should be sharing my
gifts with the world. Since she is always creating, she gets me creating and
reminds me how good it feels to create and share it. At first, I’d get all bent
out of shape when she’d do things like question women’s roles in the church or
show me the memorable South Park episode about the Book of Mormon. (It’s really
quite accurate, just a little irreverent.) But over time, her critiques of the
church led me to research and find out more deeply why I believe and, also, to
be able to admit there are aspects of church culture that bother me. In short,
she has helped to deepen my faith.
So much of my self-righteous thinking has been challenged by
my non-member family and friends. I believe the truth necessary for salvation
is contained within the Gospel of Jesus Christ. However, that does not mean we
can claim to live that truth better than everyone else. I’ve seen so many
non-members who live and understand aspects of the Gospel far better than I
ever have. While they may not know they are living in accordance with Gospel truths,
to the extent they are, it blesses their lives and the lives of the people
around them.
The Book of Mormon prophet Jacob records a similar situation.
He explains to his people that among them there are non-believers that are
keeping certain commandments more fully than the believers. He tells them, “because
of this observance, in keeping the commandment[s],…the Lord will be merciful
into them; and one day they shall become a blessed people."
God knows all and loves all. He loves the non-Members of our
family just as much as he loves us. In fact, it is my belief that we need the
foil that only those of differing beliefs can provide for our faith to mature.
While we do have the Gospel of Jesus Christ, we are light years away from
understanding all that it’s truths encompass or how to live those truths
completely. God provides us with family, friends and neighbors of other faiths
to help us get closer to understanding the truth about who we really are and
how much he loves and cares personally for all of his children.
What lessons have you learned from your relationships with
people outside of your faith tradition/worldview?
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