Your Writing Sucks
I attract grammar Nazis like moths to a fire. I have been accused of abusing my positions in the church to publicize my ideas, I have been accused of misleading others from the prophets, I have been accused teaching false doctrine, and I have been criticized for my desire to write a book on marriage. People have been hurt and offended at what I have written.
I suck at writing. But I love it. I am not looking for sympathy, complaining or giving any excuses. I have a love hate relationship with writing. I have never pretended to be a great writer. I recognize that my struggles with writing often get in the way of what I am communicating. I leave words out of sentences, I abuse grammar and I almost never punctuate, at least correctly. At a very early age I was diagnosed with a pretty significant case of dyslexia (and probably and undiagnosed case of ADHD), reading and writing hurt my head. Reading was confusing. I remember clearly, as early as first grade when fellow students would share from our reading assignments. The information they gleaned was so different from what I read. I couldn’t identify emotions in reading, connect inferences and would read a page over and over and over again and get nothing from it. It was like alphabet soup. It was so bad; I had a third grade teacher question me why I was reading a Hardy Boy book? Instead of encouraging it, she said I was unable to read it. I remember her actually saying I was too stupid to read that book. But that seemed so harsh I often wonder if that is what I felt, not what she said. Surprisingly, throughout my schooling I got similar responses and criticisms from teachers. Maybe because they didn’t understand or they thought I was a goof-off. To their credit, I was a goof-off, it was a coping mechanism.
One of the constant criticisms and reprimands I got was, “if you only proof read what you wrote you wouldn’t have any mistakes”. This was so painful to hear was because I did proof read multiple times, often 10 times or more. It made me feel stupid, after all that work to be told I didn’t do it. I learned quickly to not say, “but I did proof read”, because I would be accused of lying and being flippant. Another criticism I got when I misspelled words was, “why didn’t you just look up the word?” There are at least three problems with this statement. One, this was before the time of spell check. There was no handy dandy red or green line under the words to indicated misspellings and grammar issues. I could not identify misspelled words, no matter how many times I proof read. I understand this is difficult for many of you to understand. I read what I was thinking something said, not what was actually written. Second, even if I knew a word was misspelled, how would I look it up? It didn’t exist in the dictionary. Remember, this is in the days before google! If I thought cat was spelled kat. How exactly would one go about looking that up in a dictionary? I spent hours looking for words that didn’t exist, never realizing I was in the completely wrong section of the dictionary. Third, to spell check my work; because I couldn’t identify which words were misspelled, I literally checked every word. That was painful.
Even today, with google, spell-check and all the technology we have to help improve writing. I still struggle, it’s not about the technology, it’s about what’s in my head. This is not for a lack of trying. As you might be able to imagine, because of my weakness in writing, it is one of the most vulnerable things for me to do. I am confident at speaking but when it comes to writing my thoughts, I am fully aware of my inability to effectively and accurately express my thoughts. Interestingly though, it is very cathartic for me. I learn best when I write out my thoughts. It helps me see things as they really are, see my flaws in thinking and strengthen my understanding in those things that are accurate. I am willing to put this weakness on the altar and make it stronger. With this vulnerability, I welcome others thoughts, I willingly open myself to questioning and whether it makes sense to others or not. This is my process for learning. Nonetheless, I have been a little surprised at the feedback I have gotten from my readers. I attract grammar Nazis like moths to a fire. I have been accused of abusing my positions in the church to publicize my ideas, I have been accused of misleading others from the prophets, I have been accused teaching false doctrine, and I have been criticized for my desire to write a book on marriage. People have been hurt and offended at what I have written.
I guess the negative feedback was expected. But I was surprised at who provided the negative feedback, which has made it most difficult. Those who have known me for most of my life or who are more than just casual friends. Those who, I would have hoped knew that I have an unshakable testimony of Jesus Christ and have no desire to mislead anyone. But have an overwhelming desire to bring my readers closer to their Father in Heaven. I never desire to offend anyone. I love the gospel with a profound commitment and desire to follow Christ. Often I feel like Peter in my sincere desire to honor my Savior, I might naively refuses a foot washing but eagerly receive correction and request to be washed all over. It’s hard enough when strangers accuse you of misdeeds and personally attack; it’s another when those you respect do it. It is always surprising to me; those who profess optimism and kindness are those who seem to first attack. If it’s not an attack it’s an assumption that you are intending to mislead. They don’t seek clarification; they accuse, assume and judge. There is NO edifying of one another. But prompt defensiveness to just “agree to disagree”.
Why do I write? In 9th grade I received an odd compliment from a teacher who taught me how to see things as they really are. On two separate occasions with two different teachers and assignments, I had written a fictional story. Both teachers spoke with me personally and passionately and told me what a profoundly imaginative and vivid story teller I was. They both said these two separate stories were “brilliant!” One even said he was confident I would be a published author one day. They both also, informed me that I had much to work on in the way of cleaning up my writing skills. It wasn’t threating and it wasn’t embarrassing. They were honest and sincere. They saw my potential and they were not put off by the weakness. They desired to edify. They help me realize I enjoy writing and I didn’t have to be discouraged. I began to write, I wrote a lot. Kept a journal, wrote poems, songs and stories. But I never shared them. I didn’t have the courage to share them.
Even now that I have the courage to share, it’s still difficult. My wife is very encouraging and supportive; she smiles and says, “you just need a good editor.” She has spent many hours out of her busy schedule refining my writings. Nonetheless, there are times she is not available or I think its “good enough”. But even when my writings are cleaned up, I am opening myself to criticism over the content. I don’t get offended when I hear the criticisms but I respect those who reach out and seek clarification. They trust my intent and even asked to help. One such person did this recently; she was like those teachers in 9th grade. She reached out, “I love reading your blog posts, so I hope you take what I’m about to offer in the spirit in which I intend it and that is that I’d like to see your writings reach and affect more people and that you become a successful blogger and writer. With that, I’d like to offer my editing help…” Wow! What a difference, what a wonderful reprieve from the short sided offense unforgiving readers take. An opportunity to lift, edify and understand.
I value good written language and admire those who are capable of articulating their thoughts well in writing. But until I have mastered this weakness I encourage others to seek the heart of the message, seek clarification and edification. I am quick to correct errors when the spirit has identified it’s as such. Reflect on your own response, is it driven by fear, duty or love?
Perfect love casteth out fear:Moro. 8:16; ( 1 Jn. 4:18; )
Show an increase of love to those whom you correct or reprove:D&C 121:43;
P.S. errors in grammar, spelling and punctuation, incomplete thoughts and sentences were intentionally not edited out.
Spirit Guided Life
If there was one thing I could teach my children, it would be to listen and discern the Spirit within their lives, how to embrace that perfect teacher without fear, hesitation or resistance but with excitement, clarity and confidence. It’s one thing to teach them obedience, another to meaningfully understand the lessons of obedience. Commandments would be understood in power, and when commandments are not understood, faith would be embraced and trust in Father increased. They would be able to apply life lessons to all situations, identify falsehoods, recognize wisdom, and not fear the unknown.
Oh, how much time is spent on repeatably teaching what it means to be obedient (in the home, at church, at school and at work), and what it means to be loving in our relationships and human interactions. Although the teaching of obedience is essential in our spiritual growth, I wonder if we miss precious moments to enable our children and loved ones to learn through trial and error. Because we are in a rush or too busy in the moment, we demand obedience and for them to comply, as opposed to establishing a pattern of spiritual insight and learning.
If you have have a teenage son who is overly distracted, frustrated, tired and unable to focus on his homework—and in the hope to teach obedience, responsibility and to just finish that assignment, you become the broken record of parenthood. This only seems to aggravate both child and parent without much success. This can even lead both to resentment, hard feelings towards each other and feelings of failure. The Spirit is nowhere to be found.
Allow them to fail. Unfortunately, it seems to be one of the more difficult things to teach them.
“But the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you.” (John 14:26)
In these difficult moments, we struggle with the thoughts and perceptions within ourselves of what it means to be a good father or mother. We may be concerned that our child's successes and failures are an indicator of our ability to parent or our own worthiness. Or, we may be driven by the overwhelming feeling of teaching our child the lessons of being responsible at all costs. But I wonder if taking ourselves out of the equation might be the best and most effective approach of all. I learned this powerful lesson on my mission many times and many times again since then.
One of the mistakes I made in my mission was believing I had all the answers and that it was my responsibility to convert individuals. I loved the gospel of Jesus Christ and had a profound testimony of its teachings. It was an absolute joy and passion of mine to bring every investigator all that I had learned, teaching them into conversion. I had every answer and knew how best to present the gospel message to them. It was my calling and my responsibility. Of course I knew it was the Spirit that converted individuals. Nonetheless, I also believed my ability as a missionary reflected on my ability to bring individuals to the gospel. Fortunately the Savior’s atoning sacrifice covered me in this naïve and incorrect belief, and through that mercy I was taught a principle I would never forget.
We were teaching a part-member family. Jeff, the husband and father was the only nonmember in the family. For years, missionaries had visited and taught him the lessons. Jeff was a good man with a heart of gold. By the time I met him, he had had the lessons so many times I am confident he could have taught us every lesson. Nonetheless, it was my duty to convert Jeff. I would teach him the discussion in a way that no other missionary had before. Needless to say, by the end of our discussions no commitment for baptism was made. I struggled with my companion in fasting and prayer. We retaught and retaught and retaught principles and concepts WE believed he needed to hear. Nothing.
Teaching the gospel to Jeff, I regret to admit, was getting frustrating to me. But we had one last brilliant idea. My companion and I had become familiar with a wonderful lecture series on Joseph Smith the Prophet by Truman G. Madsen.
Surely no one could listen to this great scholar and not be converted. We brought these recordings to Jeff and used them in the structure of our lessons. One night, during a lecture we felt was moving and powerful, Jeff appeared distracted and uninterested. This was unlike Jeff. He was always interested and engaged. I believe he even asked for a break in the lesson. This was difficult for me, and I questioned my ability to bring him the gospel message.
It was at least a month later that Jeff invited us back, but not for a lesson. When we arrived, he and the family announced that he was going to be baptized. He explained that earlier that week he escaped to the bathroom from the hustle and noise of the morning when his family was getting ready for work and school. There he felt a need to pray. As he prayed, the Spirit filled his heart and mind and taught him what he needed and, he knew it was time to be baptized. I was both thrilled and humbled. At that moment, he was telling me of his spiritual experience and I was realizing my prayers and fasts were being answered—but not in the way I had expected.
My prayers and fasts were to find ways that I could convert Jeff. In that moment, it was clear I had nothing to do with his conversion. In fact, I might have been getting in the way of the spiritual lessons that needed to be taught to Jeff. My fear, my sense of responsibility as a missionary and the way I was measuring success were distracting from the spiritual lesson. Sometimes the most responsible thing to do is get out of the way. Jeff's conversion was deep and between the Lord and him. He has been a faithful member ever since and currently serves as a bishop in Arizona.
“The Prophet further directed Brigham Young as follows:Tell the people to be humble and faithful, and be sure to keep the spirit of the Lord and it will lead them right. Be careful and not turn away the small still voice; it will teach you what to do and where to go; it will yield the fruits of the kingdom. Tell the brethren to keep their hearts open to conviction, so that when the Holy Ghost comes to them, their hearts will be ready to receive it.
They can tell the Spirit of the Lord from all other spirits; it will whisper peace and joy to their souls; it will take malice, hatred, strife and all evil from their hearts; and their whole desire will be to do good, bring forth righteousness and build up the kingdom of God.” (23 February 1847, Manuscript History of Brigham Young: 1846–1847, ed. Elden J. Watson (Salt Lake City: Elden Jay Watson, 1971), 529)
I wonder how often we get in the way of the spiritual lessons that our children need to learn. As a parent, it’s my duty to teach my children how to be successful. But it is equally important that after we have adequately instructed them to provide them an opportunity to struggle and even fail. It is better that their own experiences in their moments of failure be their guide than repetitive parental reminders. Additionally, there is great power in our children discovering that they can succeed on their own. Both in the failure and success we can lovingly remind them and provide an example of how to seek out the answers with the Spirit.
Seeking answers is a process and can even be time consuming. But like Jeff, I have learned the value of stepping out of the hustle and noise to seek peace and guidance from the Spirit. Additionally, instead of fasting and praying about how you can teach your children better, fast to find and recognize opportunities for your children to learn from the Spirit.