Humility is probably poorly understood and poorly defined for the same reason that there is not a lot of braille writing on stove tops. To understand it requires experience, usually the kind of experience we earnestly pray to avoid. (Unless we pray for it on accident, a distinct possibility for those who request that various virtues be added to the fabric of their character.)
In a recent institute class, a student indignantly rebuffed my definition of humility in favor of something he had read somewhere. I did not mind so much somehow; time will see us all get our opportunity to dance with difficulty, and to understand humility through our experiences, rather than by a convenient rote definition from an appendix or glossary of terms.
Humility, or at least the invitation to be humble, can stalk us wherever we go, whatever our circumstances. I met a man, my same age, who has many things I envy—a lucrative profession and the Tevye-esque social status that entails; wealth and possessions; physical health and energy beyond mine; a wife and two rambunctious, beautiful boys; and on and on with various details. I felt to envy him his position, and yet I saw that he had two thorns in his side that made life difficult for him anyway. First, he described the difficulties of his marriage to me. He blamed her for various things, and even went so far as to announce that Satan worked through women to destroy families because women "aren't used to dealing with evil." I saw how his wife whined and complained in a manipulative fashion later that day. Granted, I only got one side of the story, but I also saw and heard something in his words and attitudes that also made him culpable, in my eyes, for half of the problems. Whereas she was manipulative and shriveled by insecurity, possibly because of jealousy about her husband's accomplishments, he was unyielding and unwilling to compromise. Words such as "all," "always," "totally," "completely," and descriptions of things in unqualified, absolute terms bespoke a deep, under-girding assumption that he was right all the time, with no possibility of any other explanation being right, or any other information being necessary to forming an opinion.
I found it strange to meet someone who apparently had everything on my Christmas wishlist who was also somewhat dissatisfied with life. Getting what you want is not the key to happiness; wanting the correct things is a preliminary step. There is so much that "cannot satisfy." The incomplete definition of humility proffered by my fellow student in favor of mine was "acknowledging our dependence upon God." My definition was "deference to the truth, however inconvenient or uncomfortable." Humility requires acknowledging dependence upon God, certainly, but is it possible to say "I need your help" and not be humble? Take Satan, for instance. He asked God for His honor and power, but to what end? To give God advice about how things SHOULD be done. He acknowledged his dependence ("...give me...") without adding the crucial phrase, "Thy will be done."
The Prodigal Son, for whom my compassion continues to grow as I see him in the mirror more and more, was another extreme example of proud acknowledgement of dependence. "Give me my inheritance." Again, he shows no signs of genuine humility.
The second thorn, and my biggest grievance with the blessed-yet-miserable man I recently met, was his eagerness to correct the Brethren. In Matt 10:40, Jesus tells His chosen disciples, "He that receiveth you receiveth me, and he that receiveth me receiveth him that sent me. He that receiveth a prophet in the name of a prophet shall receive a prophet’s reward; and he that receiveth a righteous man in the name of a righteous man shall receive a righteous man’s reward." Conversely, in John 15:20, He warns His Twelve: "Remember the word that I said unto you, The servant is not greater than his lord. If they have persecuted me, they will also persecute you; if they have kept my saying, they will keep yours also."
In a recent institute class, a student indignantly rebuffed my definition of humility in favor of something he had read somewhere. I did not mind so much somehow; time will see us all get our opportunity to dance with difficulty, and to understand humility through our experiences, rather than by a convenient rote definition from an appendix or glossary of terms.
Humility, or at least the invitation to be humble, can stalk us wherever we go, whatever our circumstances. I met a man, my same age, who has many things I envy—a lucrative profession and the Tevye-esque social status that entails; wealth and possessions; physical health and energy beyond mine; a wife and two rambunctious, beautiful boys; and on and on with various details. I felt to envy him his position, and yet I saw that he had two thorns in his side that made life difficult for him anyway. First, he described the difficulties of his marriage to me. He blamed her for various things, and even went so far as to announce that Satan worked through women to destroy families because women "aren't used to dealing with evil." I saw how his wife whined and complained in a manipulative fashion later that day. Granted, I only got one side of the story, but I also saw and heard something in his words and attitudes that also made him culpable, in my eyes, for half of the problems. Whereas she was manipulative and shriveled by insecurity, possibly because of jealousy about her husband's accomplishments, he was unyielding and unwilling to compromise. Words such as "all," "always," "totally," "completely," and descriptions of things in unqualified, absolute terms bespoke a deep, under-girding assumption that he was right all the time, with no possibility of any other explanation being right, or any other information being necessary to forming an opinion.
I found it strange to meet someone who apparently had everything on my Christmas wishlist who was also somewhat dissatisfied with life. Getting what you want is not the key to happiness; wanting the correct things is a preliminary step. There is so much that "cannot satisfy." The incomplete definition of humility proffered by my fellow student in favor of mine was "acknowledging our dependence upon God." My definition was "deference to the truth, however inconvenient or uncomfortable." Humility requires acknowledging dependence upon God, certainly, but is it possible to say "I need your help" and not be humble? Take Satan, for instance. He asked God for His honor and power, but to what end? To give God advice about how things SHOULD be done. He acknowledged his dependence ("...give me...") without adding the crucial phrase, "Thy will be done."
The Prodigal Son, for whom my compassion continues to grow as I see him in the mirror more and more, was another extreme example of proud acknowledgement of dependence. "Give me my inheritance." Again, he shows no signs of genuine humility.
The second thorn, and my biggest grievance with the blessed-yet-miserable man I recently met, was his eagerness to correct the Brethren. In Matt 10:40, Jesus tells His chosen disciples, "He that receiveth you receiveth me, and he that receiveth me receiveth him that sent me. He that receiveth a prophet in the name of a prophet shall receive a prophet’s reward; and he that receiveth a righteous man in the name of a righteous man shall receive a righteous man’s reward." Conversely, in John 15:20, He warns His Twelve: "Remember the word that I said unto you, The servant is not greater than his lord. If they have persecuted me, they will also persecute you; if they have kept my saying, they will keep yours also."
Joseph Smith also lamented, "I have tried for a number of years to get the minds of the Saints prepared to receive the things of God; but we frequently see some of them, after suffering all they have for the work of God, will fly to pieces like glass as soon as anything comes that is contrary to their traditions: they cannot stand the fire at all. How many will be able to abide a celestial law, and go through and receive their exaltation, I am unable to say, as many are called, but few are chosen." "How oft have wise men and women sought to dictate Brother Joseph by saying, 'O, if I were Brother Joseph I would do this and that;' but if they were in Brother Joseph's shoes they would find that men or women could not be compelled into the kingdom of God, but must be dealt with in long-suffering, and at last we shall save them. The way to keep all the Saints together, and keep the work rolling, is to wait with all long-suffering, till God shall bring such characters to justice. There should be no license for sin, but mercy should go hand in hand with reproof." "I told them I was but a man, and they must not expect me to be perfect; if they expected perfection from me, I should expect it from them; but if they would bear with my infirmities and the infirmities of the brethren, I would likewise bear with their infirmities." "Although I do wrong, I do not the wrongs that I am charged with doing: the wrong that I do is through the frailty of human nature, like other men. No man lives without fault. Do you think that even Jesus, if He were here, would be without fault in your eyes? His enemies said all manner of evil against Him—they all watched for iniquity in Him."
Essentially, you can tell how someone would react to Jesus in the flesh by seeing how they treat His chosen representatives. Lucifer had advice for God, and today such characters have a lot of advice for the Brethren. Matt. 6:11, "And blessed is he, whosoever shall not be offended in me." The Gospel, offensive? Isn't it a giant cotton swab, a pillow of sorts that is soft, even when it bounces off your head? Apparently the Gospel is pricklier than that.
Laws are organized according to hierarchy. Some supersede others. There is a higher law than the cultural bylaw in 2011 North America regarding the absolute sacrosanctity of Niceness. The highest law, insofar as I am able to tell, is to obey the Spirit, wherever it leads, to speak and act and travel. The law is even higher than "thou shalt not kill," as Nephi so reluctantly demonstrated. Abraham's obedience to the one commandment over the other was an even more extreme test of fidelity. I wilt inside when I think of how far I have to go, how timidly I approach the thought of putting my various false gods on the altar. What would I sacrifice? What wouldn't I? Health? Relationships? Pleasures? Others' good opinion? My reputation? My money and possessions? Life itself?
I give it as my opinion that God chooses prophets based on many qualities, but that one quality must be at the center of each man who wears the mantle of Apostle: a willingness to make those massive, Abrahamic sacrifices, a total fidelity to God's law, a complete deference to Truth, or God's will (they ARE the same). In other words, they have the essence of humility firmly in their hearts, rather than its symptoms on their person. They are not chosen for their ability to win popularity contests, to flatter and grease the clunky gears of ego in an audience. They are not even chosen necessarily for intelligence (Joseph was renowned for being "not learned.")
President Packer is a prime case in point. He is among the most vilified of general authorities in recent history, by those both in and outside of the Church. Members are sometimes ashamed of what he has said, for its tactlessness. They seem to be saying, "Don't you know how important it is to make everybody feel good about great, big, important SELF?" He will not host a garden party anytime soon, but listen to the magnitude of President Packer's commitment to the highest rule, and compare your own level of commitment:
"...I've found in my life that it has been critically important that this was established between me and the Lord, so that I knew that he knew which way I committed my agency. I went before him and said, 'I'm not neutral, and you can do with me what you want. If you need my vote, it's there. I don't care what you do with me, and you don't have to take anything from me because I give it to you, everything, all I own, all I am,' and that makes the difference."
You are looking at his qualifications to be counted as one of the Lord's servants. In Luke 6:46, Jesus sounds like a beleaguered parent: "And why call ye me, Lord, Lord, (how polite!) and do not the things which I say?" Yes, we ought to love one another, be polite, and so forth, but are we doing so because we are too timid to do otherwise? What if the Lord told us to do something else? Would we fly to pieces like glass? Not President Packer. Or any of the other Brethren. To be humble entails more than the classical symptoms of humility; it requires deference to the truth. And the closer we get to absolute deference to the truth, the more like Christ we become, both the inner good and the ugly rejection of the world.
