“Lift up thine eyes round about, and behold!” (Isaiah 49:18)
In a striking visual critique, Norman Rockwell’s Lift Up Thine Eyes depicts New York City’s majestic St. Thomas Cathedral towering above the city sidewalk, impossible to miss; but those passing by, virtually on its doorstep, missing it entirely. Shoulders hunched, heads bowed, and gazes cast groundward, pedestrians shuffle by looking woeful rather than prayerful, overwhelmed as it were not by otherworldly awe but by the present world’s worries and cares. A flight of doves hover just overhead, as do holy figures carved in stone; and still, the pathetic passersby lumber along, sadly oblivious to the splendor that surrounds them.
Naturalist John Burroughs told of a time he was walking through a crowded park when, above the sounds of city life, he alone heard the song of a bird. Bothered by the fact that everyone should miss something so beautiful, he took a coin from his pocket and flipped it into the air; and while it struck the pavement with a ring no louder than the song of the bird, everyone turned. They could hear that! (Boyd K. Packer, “Prayers and Answer”)
In the creation, God formed “the heavens and the earth…and all the host of them” (Gen. 2:1) both for utility and delight—“for the benefit and the use of man” as well as “to please the eye and to gladden the heart; yea…to enliven the soul” (D&C 59:17-20; 104:17-18). Moreover, as He declared to Moses, “all things are created and made to bear record of me” (Moses 6:63) as Alma too affirmed that “all things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it” (Alma 30:44). Yet sadly, like Korihor, many of us are blind to the divinity inherent in Father’s creations, even while enveloped in them. Poet Elizabeth Barret Browning wrote that, “Earth’s crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God, But only he who sees takes off his shoes” (Douglas Callister, “Seeking The Spirit of God”; Matt 13:13).
God’s greatest gift in the creation, and possibly the one least recognized, is the “light of Christ…given unto every man that cometh into the world” (D&C 84:46) along with the potential to consummate that light in the Gift of the Holy Ghost (3 Ne. 19:9). Both are referred to in scripture as the Spirit of God and are the keys to the Savior’s promise that we “might have life, and that [we] might have it more abundantly” (John 10:10). Indeed, the light is summarily described as that which “giveth life to all things…even the power of God” (D&C 88:13). If we were to discern and then unleash the Spirit’s full potential in our lives, we would enjoy a stunning array of gifts and powers—life & light, comfort & courage, revelation & wisdom, faith & testimony, longsuffering & unwearyingness, and so much more (D&C 46:8-30; Moro. 10:7-17; John 14:26; Gal. 5:22; D&C 11:13). We would see things otherwise hidden to the world and experience the deep gratitude and unconditional happiness that only comes with a godly paradigm (2 Ne. 9:43; D&C 59:21). We would be filled with hope in the most dire circumstances (Gen. 39:21-23; 41:38-39; 1 Ne. 1:20). Sin would become more and more abhorrent to us (2 Ne. 4:31; Alma 13:12; Mosiah 5:2), goodness more appealing (D&C 50:23-24), and charity our way of life. Our weaknesses would be transformed into strengths and our strengths marshaled into devoted service (Ether 12:27). In short, we would have “peace in this world” and the certainty of “eternal life in the world to come” (D&C 59:23; 2 Cor. 1:22; see Parley P. Pratt).
Unfortunately, however, too many of us “live far beneath our privileges” (Brigham Young, JD 12:104). The light of Christ is “in all things and through all things…which light proceedeth forth from the presence of God to fill the immensity of space” (D&C 88:6, 12), and yet we hardly notice it. Likewise, though commanded during confirmation to receive the Holy Ghost, we seldom even perceive it, while we linger on its metaphoric doorstep, or while it swarms and sings above us as Rockwell’s doves or Burrough’s birds. An infinite feast of spiritual delights lay right before our eyes, but we persist in spiritual starvation, consuming few of the Spirit’s myriad fruits promised the covenant faithful. As Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin taught,
“The abundant life is a spiritual life. Too many sit at the banquet table of the gospel of Jesus Christ and merely nibble at the feast placed before them. They go through the motions—attending their meetings perhaps, glancing at scriptures, repeating familiar prayers—but their hearts are far away. If they are honest, they would admit to being more interested in the latest neighborhood rumors, stock market trends, and their favorite TV show than they are in the supernal wonders and sweet ministerings of the Holy Spirit” (GC Apr 2006).
More recently, President Dieter F. Uchtdorf similarly observed that,
“Our hearts [are too] past feeling to experience gratitude and awe for the sacred and sublime gifts God has granted us. Life-changing truths are before our eyes and at our fingertips, but sometimes we sleepwalk on the path of discipleship. Too often we let ourselves be distracted . . . We tread a path covered with diamonds, but we can scarcely distinguish them from ordinary pebbles” (GC Oct 2016).
What could possibly keep us from recognizing and accessing such spiritual plenty?
Distraction
In Jesus’ Parable of the Great Supper (Luke 14:15-24), the Master of the house anxiously invites his friends to a great banquet, but one by one those invited make excuses about being far too busy with other sundries to attend the feast. Notably, they are not rebellious against the master’s bounty, only distracted by life’s frippery. We too may be similarly distracted, and thus miss the ongoing spiritual feast Jesus offers us. We tend to think of sin as the enemy of the Spirit, but “vice is a monster of frightful mien, as to be hated needs but to be seen…” (Alexander Pope); and as Nephi taught, the devil first “leads [us] by the neck with a [loose] flaxen cord, until he bindeth [us] with his strong cords forever” (2 Ne. 26:22). Flaxen distraction is far more subtle than blatant vice, and consequently so much more effective!
While inspiration is connection with God, distraction is connection with the world—the former reassuring us with celestial perspective and the latter depressing us with terrestrial myopia. Indeed, since the Holy Ghost is a “still, small voice” (D&C 85:6; 1 Kgs. 19:12; 1 Ne. 17:45), distraction is the very antithesis of inspiration!
Several biblical prophecies foretell latter-day “great signs and wonders” that will “deceive the very elect” (Matt. 24:24; Rev. 13:13-14). Might such wonders refer less to great miracles and more accurately to simple but derailing distractions? Would not intriguing distractions be far more deceptive than spurious marvels?
Distraction seems to come in two flavors—pleasure and pain. Pleasure encompasses both distractions which deeply interest us as well as those which simply entertain us. Genuine interests may be inspiring or just benign, but when all-consuming or unbalanced, they can usurp the things that matter most. Entertainments can take us quickly into dark paths, but even when innocent, they can displace the spiritual bounty otherwise available to us.
Pain, on the other hand, comprises distractions which burden and overwhelm us—most notably the cares of the world and the weight of sin. The cares of the world tend to “choke the word,” as in the Savior’s parable of the Sower (Matt. 13:22) and can be especially insidious when they are cloaked in responsibility, accomplishment, or the maniacal “virtue” of busy-ness. Ill feelings also fall into this category, blinding us to blessings and suffocating gratitude. Sin is troubling for obvious reasons, and unresolved sin can sabotage the Spirit’s largess more effectively than all other distractions combined.
While pleasure and pain are ontologically different, they are in fact two sides of the same coin; and their effect is identical. They present us with a false dichotomy, as if the choice we must make is between one or the other, when in fact a third choice exists— “that happiness which is prepared for the saints” (2 Ne. 9:43).
Curiously, we employ distraction to deal with distraction, both pleasure for pain and pain for pleasure. When we are distracted by the cares and troubles of life, we seek to escape from them by engaging in pleasure-laden diversions. And when we are fed up with diversions, we revert to the responsibilities and burdens of life to feel useful. Distraction for distraction, the cycle becomes an endless vortex as we anxiously seek deep satisfaction, but only experience the temporary and limited relief of distraction—cyclical, ever-ending pleasure and pain rather than continual, never-ending peace.
Put another way, distraction is a devilishly effective method in accomplishing Satan’s core aim that all men “might be miserable like unto himself” (2 Ne. 2:27) and strikes at the core of God’s purpose that all men “might have joy [like unto Himself]” (2 Ne. 2:25; D&C 132:63; Moses 1:39). It does this by locking us into a sinking spiral of burden and diversion, pleasure and pain; all the while keeping us from the supernal joy only the Lord can provide.
[Continued in Racked & Distracted 2 – Diversion]
Holy Envy 