Fifty bucks an hour

Sometimes I make fun of primary because the stories all so simple they give a black and white picture of the world.  I've heard things like:

"Sammy found a cigarette.  Do you think it would be good to smoke it?"

"Alex stole a dollar from a friends desk.  Was that an ok thing to do?"

"Terry broke a lamp. Terry's mother asked who did it.  What is the right response?"

Oh please, like there isn't a three year old on Earth that wouldn't know what answer they're supposed to give.  Then as we grow older we find the story is so much more complicated.  Maybe Sammy has cried himself to sleep each day for lack of friends.  Maybe Alex's friend stole the dollar first.  Maybe Terry lives in an abusive home.  Suddenly what used to be a simple answer is harder.

Then sometimes I find myself in a situation that sounds like it came straight out of a primary book, and I think "This really happens in real life?"  Like the time I was approached by a lady I will call Mary.

Mary was a student at SUU while I worked there in the math tutoring lab.  She was non-traditional since she was about 40 years old.  She had just recently left her abusive husband and was struggling to go to school so that she could find a better job to support her two young children.  I often saw her in the math lab and found her to be hard working, dedicated and resourceful.

One day as I came in to work I found her waiting in the lobby outside the tutoring center.  She approached me and said, "Scott, I've fallen behind in math class.  There are several assignments due this week, and I just don't the time to do them.  I'll pay you 50 bucks to finish the assignments for me.  I know this probably isn't the kind of thing you feel is right, I'm LDS too, but this class is a prerequisite to many other classes, and I won't pass without these assignments being done.  I'm guessing it'll take you about an hour to finish it.  I've got to pass, and I'm desperate and out of options.  I don't want someone to help me do it, I just want it done. Please tell me you'll do it for me."

As I try to remember my exact thought, I realize I had several all at the same time. 
"Wow - this is so classic temptation!  Even she admits this is not right."
"I so do not want to tell her I won't help her.  Why should I have to be the bad guy here?"
"Would it really be so wrong to help a lady who is struggling so hard to survive?"
"If I say no that will probably end my relationship with this student"
"She's right.  An hour tops.  Fifty bucks an hour... that's awesome!"
"I could always claim innocence.  Or maybe I'll just admit I'm not perfect"
"If I accept something that is so clearly wrong there may never be a wall of what I wouldn't do given the right circumstances"

My heart was breaking for this poor woman, but years of cheesy primary questions have been burned into my psyche.  My very first response was "Mary, there's no way I can do your homework.  That's cheating, and we both know it's wrong.  If you want to schedule extra tutoring time I'll clear my schedule tonight, for you I'll even stay here for free, no charge until it's done, but I will not do your homework for you."

My response was automatic, just saying what I probably would have said if a primary teacher had asked me.  After it was out I was a little surprised by how bold and direct it was.  In hindsight I wonder if the boldness was partly to convince myself.  She sighed, nodded, looked down, and in a low voice said, "One hundred bucks"

"No Mary, I can't."  She looked up.  "Five hundred bucks.  That's all I can offer."

Now it felt different.  She had made up her mind, and had justified it to whatever level she needed to pull out all the stops.  Maybe those primary questions are so blatent because when they hit they represent crossroads that will change our lives.  I said, "Mary, it doesn't matter how much money you offer.  I will not do your homework for me."  In my mind I'm remembering the 9th commandment from primary: Thou shalt not bear false witness (Exodus 20:16)

In anger she mumbled something about why couldn't I help when she needed it most.  I was hurt, and I started to wonder if I had made the right choice.  Then as I walked into the lab and faced the other math tutors and looked my boss in the eye I knew I done the right thing, and I would never regret it.

That evening the tutors had our weekly meeting, and I mentioned that a student had offered to pay me to complete their homework.  To our surprise we discovered that after me she had gone to each tutor and asked them privately to do her homework.  How proud I was of our group when we learned that no one had accepted her offer.  The last tutor was offered $1000 to finish the homework.  Each one of us said that we would not accept such an offer, and although not all the tutors were LDS, our testimonies of integrity were bolstered.

We checked, and her homework was never completed; she repeated the class the next semester.  I noticed she continued her schooling and graduated.  Sadly our friendship was never as strong.  Since then I have been in academia for years, and taught my own classes.  I know now how damaging it is to a student to let them believe there are short cuts to learning.  I believe we did what was best for her in the long run. 

I know for certain I did what was right.  Isaiah said "For precept must be upon precept, precept upon precept; line upon line, line upon line; here a little, and there a little:" (Isaiah 28:10).  Imagine if I had made the wrong choice - from there on my spiritual growth would have been at a lower level.  I cannot attain a higher level until I am in control of simpler temptations.

I give thanks to all my primary teachers who spent years asking silly questions that had obvious answers.  Would I have made the right choice without primary?  I like to think so, but it certainly helped.  When I had many different thoughts going through my head the morality meter installed as a young child won out. To all those who currently serve in the primary, keep going!  The things that you teach may have such a small effect today that you won't notice, but years later adults like me will write about making the right decision.

Vulcan Swearing Pinch

In elementary school I had a good friend named Shane.  We did lots of things together, but there was one problem - Shane knew how to swear and he did it a lot!  I would tell him to stop and five minutes later he'd let fly with another curse just to see me react.  I told him never to use that word again and two sentences later he'd say it twice just to emphasize it!

I told him it was a commandment: "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain" (Exodus 20:7) but he didn't care.  I assumed he was doing it to make me mad.  So in retribution I pinched that nerve right at the base of the neck just like the Vulcans do.  It only took a little while before I was really good at it and I could send Shane into convulsions of pain.  Even still he swore!  I figured he was trying to build up an immunity to my neck pinch, so I dug in harder, especially with some of the more serious swear words.

Before long we had our own Vulcan swearing game.  Shane would swear, I'd do the neck pinch, occasionally a tussle would follow until one of us was defeated.  It annoyed me that Shane would use cursing as a game, but with my self-righteous attitude I figured I was being the hero. Eventually the game grew old, we grew up, and after elementary school we lost track of each other.  It wouldn't have even made much of a memory for me except for the rest of the story.

Fourteen years later I had returned from my mission and was reacquainting myself with old friends.  I met Shane in passing, and we congratulated each other on successful missions.  It was good to see an old friend I remembered from elementary.  Turns out he had moved away for a while and had come back to our home town.

A little while later he met my mother in the grocery store and recognized her.  They had a talk, and he apparently asked her, "Did your son ever tell you what he did for me?"  She only barely remembered him, and asked what he meant.

"I came from a family that had plenty of struggles, and there was a lot of swearing in my home.  I picked up that bad language without even realizing it.  I had no idea my words were offensive until Scott started getting upset with me.  He would tell me to stop, and I would try, but my brain didn't even think about it, the words just popped out.  He used to pinch my neck to make me stop, and it hurt!  So eventually I got better at it, and I finally learned to recognize when I said those words, and after a long time and lots of work I managed to quit my swearing habit.  I worked hard to notice things that I did which weren't right, and I went to church more often, and I kept my life on track.  I guess you might say Scott is the reason I went on a mission.  I have always looked up to him."

When my mother told me this I was stunned.

I always assumed he was doing it on purpose, after all, how could he not know he was swearing?  Oh how I wish I had been kinder to a boy who was trying to overcome influences I knew nothing about!  I wish I had been encouraging rather than cruel.  There is a difference between attacking the sin, and attacking a sinner.  When the woman who had sinned came to the Lord he didn't do a neck pinch and tell her to quit, he said, "Thy sins are forgiven" (Luke 7:48).  How grateful I am that the Lord does not teach me lessons the way I have tried to teach others!

And yet I am stunned to realize a tiny thing to me had such an impact on my friend.  When I told him to quit swearing he may have acted like it was funny, he may have acted offended, but deep inside he was making decisions to change and improve his life.  I remember someone telling me to "keep talking, for who knows but what you might say something the angels will repeat".  I made a promise to never be ashamed to say what I think is right, and to be a better friend by kindly encouraging others to do what is right.  It may cause a fight, it may hurt, but if I am loving it will never ruin a friendship.  It may just bring my friend closer to the Lord Jesus Christ.

Boys don't use curlers

I'm sure this story has played out in nearly every family, but here's when it happened to me.  To begin you must understand that I was the third of four children, and as the middle child life was horribly unfair.  My older brother, Chad, got all the privileges, my older sister, Julie, got anything she wanted, and my younger sister, Lori, was spoiled.  At age 7 I had it the worst.

When my older brother was 12 my parents would sometimes leave him in charge of us when they left (for example on a temple trip).  As the boss he would tell us what needed to be done before we could watch TV, he would order us to bed, he would grill us on whether we brushed our teeth --- basically he became the high command dictator.  Sometimes he would tell us a game was too dangerous (like riding hampers down the stairs) and sometimes he'd order us around (like no going outside) ---- basically he used his power to treat us all like miserable slaves.  Anyone who dared to oppose his Royal Pain would be banished to time out.  Defiance against the time out guaranteed trouble with Mom and Dad when they came home.

I made sure Mom and Dad knew that Chad was an abusive overlord, and they decided sometimes my older sister Julie, who was 10, could be in charge.  I thought that sounded great, until Queen Obeyme took over.  She decided we could read books instead of watch TV.  She decided if we argued about the Nintendo no one would play it.  She decided dessert would be fruit!  Never had I seen a 10 year old girl become a school marm so quickly.  It was obvious: my older siblings were unfit to rule.

I explained that I needed to show them how it was done.   The next time my parents were headed to the temple (a trip to St. George which would take several hours), I rallied for the supreme calling.  I explained how I wanted a chance to show them how it was done.  I needed them to understand what it meant to be loving, compassionate, and stay a strong leader.  I told my mom that once she let me be in charge she would decide to put me in command every time, "I just know it!"

My mother very seriously sat me down and explained the house rules.  I was coached on the eating rules, safety rules, cleaning rules, bedtime rules, emergency rules, and even a little lesson on being kind to my siblings.  I soaked it all in - I already knew all that, but a good leader still acts like he's paying attention so his mom will feel good about it.  I vowed three times that I could easily handle it.

I remember my parents leaving, I remember them saying goodbye.  I remember the door closing, and listening as the garage door went up, the car went out, and the garage door closed.  I remember turning around feeling 15 feet tall.  I had all the control and power in the world.  I walked down the hall to where my three siblings were watching TV.  Now they would be in my power.  I could have them do anything!  I could make them entertain me, work for me... I could have them satisfy my every want.  And what I wanted was to make them pay for all their cruel ordering!  I pointed at my brother and said, "Chad!  I am in charge, and I order you to.... to go curl your hair!"

D&C 121:36-38 "the rights of the priesthood are inseparably connected with the powers of heaven... the powers of heaven cannot be controlled nor handled only upon the principles of righteousness.  That they may be conferred upon us, it is true; but when we undertake to cover our sins, or to gratify our pride, our vain ambition, or to exercise control or dominion or compulsion upon the souls of the children of men, in any degree of unrighteousness, behold, the heavens withdraw themselves; the Spirit of the Lord is grieved; and when it is withdrawn, Amen to the priesthood or the authority of that man.  Behold, ere he is aware, he is left unto himself,"  Of course at age 7 I had no idea what this scripture meant.

My brother looked at me with a "What planet are you from?" look and kept watching TV.  I told him it was an order, I was in charge, and he would be sent to time out if he didn't start paying attention to me.  Chad said, "Scott, I'm not going to curl my hair.  Boys don't use curlers."  Julie said, "This is why you don't let 7 year old boys be in charge."  They completely ignored me.

For several minutes I tried to assert my dominance.  In fact I decided to rescind my hair curling command.  I even decided to forgive him for his insubordination.  I told them it was time to turn off the TV and come eat dinner.  No one even spoke to me.  Finally Chad said, "Scott, I'm a guy, I have short hair, and curling my hair isn't something you can order someone to do.  If you want to be in charge you need to learn what's important, and what's not.  We're going to watch TV for fifteen more minutes, and then we'll come in and eat dinner."

For the rest of the evening I had no control, and everyone knew it.  I felt like King Saul when Samuel the prophet told him he was losing his kingdom: "Thou hast done foolishly: thou hast not kept the commandment of the Lord thy God, which he commanded thee: for now would the Lord have established thy kingdom upon Israel for ever.   But now thy kingdom shall not continue: the Lord hath sought him a man after his own heart, and the Lord hath commanded him to be captain over his people, because thou hast not kept that which the Lord commanded thee." (1 Samuel 13:13-14)  My kingdom was lost, and the only thing I had left was a memory of how foolish I had been.

It gave me a lot to think about.  I wielded power for a total of 1 second, but instantly lost it by trying to use my authority to gratify my pride.  And once it was lost I never regained control.  For the rest of the evening Julie told us what was for dinner, Chad told us when to go to bed, and I stayed quiet.  I had no ability to defend myself, and everyone knew it.  Mom and Dad didn't put me in charge again for many years.  It was a harsh lesson on the true meaning of power.

To this day when family reunions bring us all together my siblings will recount, "Hey Scott, remember when you ordered Chad to curl his hair?!" I learned that to be in charge is to be in the service of my fellow beings.  I hope to reach the celestial kingdom with my priesthood authority in tact, and to report to my eternal father how I handled the power I had on Earth.  I will say, "Yes, I experienced the rush of power.  Once I ordered my brother to curl his hair.  But since then I have tried to use authority, power, strength and priesthood to bless others and build up thy kingdom.  True power is my ability to control myself."

Hungry Hungry Elders

Let's say two missionaries run out of food for nearly a week.  They pray and ask Heavenly Father to help them.  What do you think will happen?
Every child who has ever sat through primary will say "God will help them!  God will help them find something to eat!"  Even the adults who have a more hardened view of life will bear testimony that surely God will step in and help the missionaries find food.

I'm here to say that when a young man runs out of food his faith is sorely tested.

In Maravilha there weren't a lot of members, and the ones who were there often felt like they had to carry more than their share of the work.  We had lunch every week with the same members - Monday was Dilmar, Tuseday was Amarildo, and so on.  Two days of the week we managed our own lunch which was fine.

One week my companion and I found our weekly schedule was empty.  One family had recently moved, another had been gone on a business trip.  It was near a holiday, so one family was on vacation for the entire week, while another was visiting their friends across town.  One sister had family visiting her and asked if she could skip a week.  We told everyone it was no problem, we prayed for their safety and wished them well.

The truth was more scary - it was the end of the month, and we were out of food.

A quick note for those who are not aware of missionary finances.  A missionary is responsible to pay for their own mission.  All missionaries pay the same amount, which in my day was about ten thousand dollars.  That money goes into a pool, and each missionary gets a monthly stipend according to their needs.  Our stipend was about 160 dollars each month (Brazil is not an expensive place to live).

See, we were getting the same monthly stipend as every other pair of missionaries, but the mission office didn't realize we were paying for our own lunch twice a week.  Add the family that moved and the guy on a business trip and we were paying for four extra meals each week.  Plus in my other areas there were occasional dinners with the members as well.  But missionaries don't complain, we just bought cheaper food and made it stretch further.  This month it didn't quite stretch.

I remember Wednesday night realizing we had 5 more days until our next monthly stipend (on the first Monday of the month).  Half a bag of rice, a bag of milk, a few pieces of bread, and some crackers.  Add a few extras like jam, butter, and salt.  We had to make a choice.  We could contact the mission office, but running out of food doesn't seem like a proper emergency.  We could contact our family in the US, but that would be worse than calling the mission office.  It just didn't feel right to let food become a distraction to the work of God.  Jesus said, "Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed?  (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things." (Matthew 6:31-32)

We prayed, and both of us acted like we knew the Lord would take care of us.  I would be lying if I said I felt completely confident.  Maybe it's a guy thing, but when I run out of food I have trouble thinking about anything else.

The next morning presented an interesting side dilemma.  We could make that rice stretch further if we didn't eat a lot, but Brazil is hot and tiring, without a full breakfast we wouldn't be able to serve with all our might.  We ate a normal breakfast and hit the streets, trusting that something miraculous would happen.

That Thursday happened to be a day that we had lunch with a member.  The member cooked a large meal, and asked us if we wanted to take some home with us.  That was unusual, and we were thrilled.  There's no way we would have asked ourselves.  It made Thursday dinner and Friday breakfast.

Friday at noon we passed a bar where we would frequently chat with the bartender.  I suspect he would have been open to the message if he didn't own the bar.  He offered us a pop as he often did, and we polished off the last our crackers and jam.  That night the sister who asked if we could skip lunch at her house (because she had relatives visiting) brought us some food.  We told her that wasn't necessary, but that we believed she would be blessed for her thoughtfulness. When we blessed the food we made sure Heavenly Father knew we wanted her to be blessed.

That lasted for dinner and breakfast the next morning.  Saturday at noon I remember being so tired.  We moved forward in faith, but our miracles ran out.  No one gave us a free meal, no mysterious stranger.  Ironically the next day was Fast Sunday, and my companion and I joked about a 48 hour fast making us super spiritual.  About 7 o'clock in the afternoon I wasn't feeling so spiritual.  Then we passed the house of a family that had been an investigator months before, but they had decided not to pursue the church.  We stopped and knocked, a little unsure of how rude it was when they asked us not to return.

They were thrilled to see us, and said things like "We were worried you wouldn't stop by anymore!  So glad to see you again!  We were just about to eat dinner, won't you join us?"  They asked how the work was progressing, and while we ate we told them about the changes in the ward.  We shared scriptures that we had studied recently, and encouraged them to read their scriptures.  Although they didn't agree to come to church, they did agree to pray and read the Bible, and to seek ways to improve their lives.  In the end we agreed to stop by periodically.

Does fasting count if you don't eat because you have no food?  I don't know the answer, but my companion and I prayed as if we had a choice, and worked all Sunday without food.  By Sunday night I was tired and hungry.  Of course missionaries don't complain about being hungry after Fast Sunday, it's like admitting your spirituality isn't as strong as it should be, but in my mind I was thinking God had run out of tricks.  We had been blessed for days, and now everyone who could possibly give us food had already done it.  It's not like we could go to the store on Sunday even if we had any money.  It was going to hurt to be a missionary tonight.

Then my companion said, "Let's go see if the Fatima family is back from their vacation!"  It seemed like a bizarre thing to say - they wouldn't be home for another four days, but we had just enough time before going home.  Lo and behold they had come home early, and they had spent their first few hours at home baking fresh bread.  "Elders!  Perfect timing!  Would you happen to be interested in taking a loaf of fresh homemade bread home?"

I remember my companion and I sitting at home talking about the direct and blatant way that God took care of us.  We felt the spirit confirm that we were on His errand, and that he would watch over us.  I quoted the Savior in Matthew before, now let me finish it, "But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.  Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." (Matthew 6:33-34)

I will always kick myself that I didn't write my testimony in my journal that night.  I remember going to bed with the absolute knowledge that my companion and I were not alone on our mission.

The next morning our stipend came through, we went to the store, and we called the mission president.  After explaining our financial situation, the food budget was increased for missionaries in Maravilha.  It is a truth that you must take care of yourself enough that you can serve as the Lord wishes you to.  I wanted to show the Lord that I had learned my lesson - the missionary work is too important to lose a few days.  I learned that every day on my mission I could work hard trusting that the Lord would take care of the rest.