Last week, Russell M. Nelson, President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, encouraged us to express more gratitude. He challenged us to flood social media with messages of gratitude, with the hashtag #givethanks.
These are the posts I made in response to that call. I thought they were important enough that I didn’t want them simply vanish into the Facebook aether.
There is nothing in this world that I’m more thankful for than my wife Michele.
She’s intelligent and resourceful and devoted and purpose-driven and Christ-centered and generous and smokin’ hot and supportive and loving and community-minded and faithful and dependable and fearless and smokin’ hot.
I am thankful for the time and place in which I was born.
America, the only nation founded on a limitless ideal instead of an ethnic community or geographic conglomeration.
A lifespan bridging the 20th and 21st centuries, where advances in speed and communication dwarf those changes seen in my great-grandmother’s lifetime (buggies to moonshots).
I am safe. I am well-fed and secure, in a milieu which has commonplace riches that would have staggered the imagination of any member of royalty only a century or two ago.
More so than at any other point in human history, the happiness and progress of the entire human race isn’t limited by external factors; it’s only limited by humans ourselves. We live in an era without excuses.
I am thankful to be without excuses.
I’m grateful that I like who I am.
Yes, I suppose if you want to find reasons for pot-shots, I AM saying, among other things, that I am grateful that I’m a white male, although I would hope that if I were not any of those things, I would like being whatever I am instead. But that would make a me into a not-me, so it’s a worthless hypothetical.
Here’s what I mean: I’m glad that my interests and my abilities align so well. I have at least some ability in those fields in which I have affinity; those things I do poorly are mostly things that I don’t want to do anyway. I’m not like the short dumpy guy who longs to be able to play basketball; I’m not terribly tall, and drastically unsuited for athletics, but that’s okay because I’m even more disinterested than I am unsuited.
Conversely, I can sing well, I can write well, I can draw well, and I’m reasonably funny. I’m a good problem-solver and puzzler-outer. And while I’m not the tip-top in any of those categories, I have enough ability to know that, if I put more effort into it, I’d get more skill out of it. I’m not limited by anything but time and priorities.
(Okay, I wish I could dance better than I do, i.e., AT ALL. But if that’s the heaviest cross I have to carry here…)
I know this will seem frivolous, but I’m thankful for some elements of pop culture that have been with me my whole life. Star Trek, for example; I grew up watching the original series every Saturday at 1pm, and when I was visiting my grandparents, Grandad and I would watch it together. It was a future of exploration and can-do problem solving, centered on iconic carriers that perfectly (if inadvertently) personified the Rational, the Emotional, and the synthesis of the two. William Shatner’s portrayal of Captain Kirk, for good or ill, informed a whole generation’s boys on what it meant to be masculine and in command (and what good hair looked like).
The entire series is so deeply implanted in my psyche that, even now, re-watching the series, I can’t see the styrofoam rocks and cardboard sets; I see an encompassing vision of an alternate reality.
(Funny thought I had the other day: Star Trek‘s future tech falls neatly into two categories: Things that defy our current understanding of the laws of physics — warp speed, teleporters, etc. — and things that we’ve already surpassed — computers, telecommunications, etc.)
There are many things for which I’m thankful in the organization of my faith, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. (This is over and above the doctrinal foundation of it all, which will be another post.)* Here is just one example:
The Church is effectively led by two governing bodies, the First Presidency (consisting of the President of the Church and his two counselors) and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. That’s fifteen men with different backgrounds, professional careers and life experiences… and yet any decision they make has to be unanimous. And yes, there is a high degree of deference to seniority, but there are candid reports by more than one apostle that the discussion and debate in their meetings can be energetic — these are not men called to this position without experience being leaders and decision makers — and still: Every decision, every public pronouncement, every policy change and guidance from the First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve Apostles is made unanimously. Even when the President ultimately makes a decision, the vote to sustain that decision must be without exception.
Imagine. Imagine if the Supreme Court operated that way. Or any Senate committee. (I’d ask you to imagine the entire Senate or House of Representatives operating that way, but I don’t think any of us have that much imagination to spare.)
You don’t have to be a believer to understand that these men have taken very seriously their scriptural injunctions to unity:
“For verily, verily I say unto you, he that hath the spirit of contention is not of me, but is of the devil, who is the father of contention, and he stirreth up the hearts of men to contend with anger, one with another.” – 3rd Nephi 11:29 (The Book of Mormon)
“I say unto you, be one; and if ye are not one ye are not mine.” – Doctrine & Covenants 38:27
Related to this: The President of the Church is the senior apostle. When he dies, the next senior living apostle (at that time, the President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles) is sustained by all the others — again, unanimously — as the President of the Church.
Think about that. There is absolutely no jockeying for position, no meeting of cardinals to hash out compromise candidates, no factionalism. When there is a vacancy in the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, that Quorum and the First Presidency prayerfully discuss suitable candidates from Church leaders with whom they’ve worked, the President makes the final decision, and that decision is sustained unanimously. And then.. it’s all in God’s hands who becomes the President of the Church and who dies before becoming the senior apostle.
Not that every President of the Church is exactly like every other one: each has a distinct personality, and each has strengths which lend themselves to different issues and initiatives. But the Church is not in danger of being cast about by every wind of doctrine, such as one sometimes sees in the Catholic Church. Each knows that all fifteen men — all sustained as prophets, seers and revelators — must be unanimous in every action they take in their combined stewardship. This pushes these godly men even more toward prayerful unity, toward seeking the will of God in concert.
I can’t imagine a way to govern the Church that would be more pleasing to God.
*There was no future post. I was too busy being thankful with my family on Thanksgiving to express it on social media.