The Art of Faith...or of At Least Making Something Worth Hanging on the Fridge.

Difficulties strengthen the mind, 

as labor does the body. 

-- Seneca

I read something recently along the lines that "any painter who doesn't find painting difficult should be treated with suspicion." It made me feel a lot better about my experiences as an artist. But it made me feel better about my experiences with faith, too.

A lot of the work involved in making art occurs in my head. Most of it, in fact. The part you end up seeing is just a representation of that...a small token. 

A souvenir of the struggle.  

I enjoyed General Conference, much as I expected to. And yet after the Saturday morning session I was quite cranky, because (as I complained to my patient husband for the rest of the day) there seemed to be one line in almost every talk that bothered me, or at least made me say "But --"

I was disappointed and sad about having those feelings. I had been looking forward to it, and then I found I was struggling and even thought that perhaps it would be best if I just stopped listening. I didn't want to invite any more negative emotions. I wondered if perhaps I was in the wrong frame of mind somehow, or if it was just an unfortunate clustering of speakers or topics that wasn't ideal for me that day.

Later, I was fortunate to come across a great post by an LDS mental health professional, Natasha Helfer Parker, analyzing the Saturday morning session talk by talk. I'm not sure why the article focused on only the session that had been problematic for me, but I considered that to be a personal tender mercy. Because after reading it, I felt much less alone in my angst. 

She framed her thoughtful, detailed examination of each talk as follows: "What can we celebrate and feel 'called' to incorporate into our lives in significant ways? What lifts and edifies? What do we need to challenge or think through in different ways (understanding that it is difficult to cover any subject in complete depth within the framework of 10 to 15 minutes that these men and women are given)? What might be healthy for some to hear while for others not so healthy (i.e. those managing depression, ocd, anxiety, etc.)? How do we frame our ideas and thoughts in respectful ways -- especially when we may disagree with one another? How do we maintain the balance between trusting ourselves, offering our voice, and keeping our commitment to sustain our leaders (whom I believe only have positive and protective intentions)?"

My questions exactly. 

But by putting them in writing, she gave me permission to be asking them! And in just that act, I felt some immediate relief. 

I think there was a lesson in that.

She began her comments about each talk by expressing all of the things she found to be positive, uplifting, encouraging, helpful, and generally spot-on. She even examined the lyrics to the songs that the choir performed. I so appreciated that. Because I know that in my own brain, I skew toward the negative and sometimes when I hear something that strikes an off chord I tend to forget the wonderful 99% of what was said and dwell on that niggling little 1%. So that was another lesson -- a reminder to enlarge my viewfinder a bit. 

As I read her thoughts, I found that most of the things that had been troubling to me came under her heading, "Messages I found to be needing of further nuance/discussion". I liked that description, because it perfectly articulated the cause of my discomfort when I hadn't been able to completely identify or understand it myself. It was phrased in a way that didn't put all of the blame on the message or on me, suggesting that perhaps we just needed to get to know one another a bit better. 

Yes! For me, some things are in need of a whole lot of further nuance/discussion. It happens all the time. I wish it weren't the case, because it would be much easier to be a person who required neither. But alas.

Sometimes I need to complicate the issue before I can get it sorted. 

In his article "Forgiving the Church and Loving the Saints: Spiritual Evolution and the Kingdom of God," Robert A. Rees says, "The Church, which so readily serves as a symbol either for ambivalent feelings about authority or as a symbol for a nurturing family, tends to call forth strong emotions.  Consider the variety of feelings people have about the Church. Others have expressed to me all of the following: They love the Church, they hate the Church; they respect the Church, they fear the Church; they are devoted to the Church, they are indifferent to the Church; they feel nurtured by the Church, they feel excluded from the Church. Some seem to experience no negative feelings toward the Church; others seem to be in a constant state of conflict with it."

So no matter where I might find myself on that spectrum during any given decade, year, month, General Conference session, or even moment, it sounds like I wouldn't find myself there alone. And I feel good about that, since it doesn't seem like I'm ever going to land in any one position forever. 

After all, this is faith we are talking about. A living thing. The ultimate work in progress. I don't believe it's intended to land, but rather to change and grow and progress as we create and re-create it. And working through things like talks that rub me the wrong way is one of the ways I do that. I'm learning to accept that about myself, and try to count it as a strength. To celebrate the fact that I'm a painter who finds painting to be pretty darn difficult. To regard my spiritual artist with respect rather than suspicion.

Looking back, I can see how my doubts often seem to have formed an initial sketch for my convictions. It may not be your way, but it is mine. Rather than "doubting my doubts", I guess I find it helpful to get acquainted with them and figure out ways we can make something useful or even beautiful together. 

In my art, some pieces take a lot of working and reworking and re-reworking before they end up right.  Does that lessen me as an artist? Committing the vision to a tangible medium requires an act of faith. And it's as the idea moves through the heart and then out through the hands that the art occurs. Every piece is somewhere on the spectrum between difficulty and flow, but often it's the ones I have to work hardest to translate into something concrete, the ones I really develop a relationship with, that bring me the most satisfaction and meaning in the end.

The future will present 
insurmountable problems -- 

only when we consider them insurmountable.

--Thomas S. Monson

Anyway, in case you're wondering, I stuck with it and didn't have that same perplexed experience with the rest of General Conference. I generally found it to be all the things I was hoping for. Who knows why? Probably another tender mercy, for which I am truly thankful. But I'm appreciative of that challenging 1% too, because it complicated the process a bit and gave me something to work on and grow from. Raw materials for the creation of my faith. All the more reason to keep showing up in the studio.

-S.