Neal A. Maxwell wrote:
The ability to create a climate around us in which people, as in the case of the man who approached Jesus, feel free enough to say the equivalent of “Lord, help Thou my unbelief,” is a critical skill. If we can deal with doubt effectively in its nascent* stages, we can assist people by a warmth and love which frees them to share the worries that they may have, and increase the probability of dissolving their doubt. But, if we overreact to dissent or doubt, we are apt, rather than inculcating confidence to those we serve, to exhibit what, in the eyes of the rebel, may seem to be a flaw in our inner confidence in what we say.
We need to relax to be effective in the process of helping people who are building testimonies. Over-reacting and pushing the panic button when doubt first makes its appearance can render us ineffective. This is one of the reasons why parents are often in a temporarily poorer tactical position to deal effectively with a rebellious son or daughter—the anxiety is too real to relax. In these circumstances, bishops, teachers, and friends can be helpful—not because they are clinically detached, for their love and concern should be honestly communicated—but rather because third parties sometimes can listen a little longer without reacting, can prescribe with a clear-headed assessment, and most of all, can be a fresh voice which conveys care and concern, a voice which has risen above similar challenges.
We need to give much more attention than we now do to those individual differences which produce what Harry Emerson Fosdick called the second form of hypocrisy, the situation in which we let ourselves appear worse than we are. This form of hypocrisy is just as insidious (and may be more wide spread) than the other form of hypocrisy—the situation in which we let ourselves appear better than we are. The second form of hypocrisy is apt to be a heightened challenge because of the growing uniqueness and size of the Church to play down their convictions and commitment—to appear less committed than they really are.
A good leader is also growing in his own understanding of the gospel and in his own self-esteem. Often we achieve in professional, social, and civic life (which is laudable) in a way which results in our satisfaction and recognition almost solely from these sources rather than from Church experiences. There needs to be a kind of link-up, or equivalency between our secular achievements and spiritual growth that will permit us to respond affirmatively and honestly to the query posed in Alma: “And if ye have felt to sing the song of redeeming love, I would ask, can you feel so now?” (Alma 5:26.) How we feel now about the gospel will almost always reflect how involved we now are with the gospel. Balance between multiple sources of joy is vital. If our sources of satisfaction do not include religious experiences, our psychological treasure will determine where our heart is.
Being sensitive to individual differences means, too, that we remind ourselves of the need to be hopeful about others and to help them to be hopeful about themselves. Sometimes when we properly emphasize that, in a literal sense, he who breaks any divine law has broken all divine laws, in that he needs to “apply the atoning blood of Christ,” we fail to perceive that the wrongdoer can become genuinely despondent about the prospects of ever being forgiven. While wallowing in deep despair, true repentance is impossible. The feeling of futility can render such an individual powerless to resist further the adversary, and this feeling can blur the vital difference between the need to forgive the sinner and yet reject the sinful act.
Such futility and misery are not only bad, but also are usually unproductive. The Book of Mormon reminds us that Satan “. . . seeketh that all men might be miserable like unto himself.” (2 Nephi 2:27.) Misery can, under certain circumstances, create a climate that facilitates repentance or improved behavior. But there is a difference between the kind of sorrow that “worketh repentance” and the worldly sorrow that “worketh death.” It is, the Book of Mormon reminds us, “the sorrowing of the damned” that describes those who can no longer take pleasure in sin, but who cannot fully repent either; such individuals are caught in a kind of no-man’s land. The gospel is designed to disintegrate this spell of hopelessness.
The Lord told erring Israel anciently that if they truly repented, “though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow,” and that then, the Lord “will not remember thy sins.” (Isaiah 1:18, 43:25)
Jesus, the great physician, came to heal the spiritually sick—all of us—certainly to heal the most sick among us. ~Neal A. Maxwell, “. . . A More Excellent Way” (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1967), 62-64
* nas·cent, adjective, (especially of a process or organization) just coming into existence and beginning to display signs of future potential.
