From Bruce C. Hafen’s book: ‘The Believing Heart’ . . . .:
I have intentionally tried to suggest a wide variety of instances in which the answers we may seek are not as obvious as we might have expected. My suggestion is that some uncertainty is characteristic of mortal experience. The mists of darkness in Lehi’s dream are, for that very reason, a strong symbolic representation of life as we face it on this planet. There are, of course, many things very certain and very clear, as so beautifully represented in Lehi’s dream; but there is enough complexity to make the topic of ambiguity worthy of discussion.
Given, then, the existence of a gap for most of us between where we stand and where we would like to be, and given that we will have at least some experiences that will make us wonder what we are to do, I think there are three different levels of ambiguity. At level one, there are two typical attitudes, one is that we simply do not—perhaps cannot—even see the problems that exist. Some seem almost consciously to filter out any perception of a gap between the real and the ideal. For those in this category, the gospel is a firm handshake, an enthusiastic greeting and a smiley button. Their mission was the best, their ward is the best and every new day is probably the best day they ever had. These cheerful ones are happy, spontaneous, optimistic, and they always mange to hang loose. They are able to weather many storms that would seem formidable to more pessimistic types, though one wonders if they have missed hearing that a storm is going on.
A second group at level one has quite a different problem with the gap between what is and what ought to be. Those in this category eliminate the frustrating distance between the real and the ideal by, in effect, erasing the inner circle of reality. They cling to the ideas so single-mindedly that they just don’t feel the pain that would come from facing the truth about themselves, about others, or about the world around them. I suppose it is this category that is so frequently represented in the letters to the editor of the school papers at BYU and Ricks, where such shock is occasionally expressed where some person or some part of the institution has fallen short of perfection and they writhe is aghast— “”surely not at the Lord’s University.”
Those in this group seem unable to distinguish between imperfections that matter a great deal and those that may not matter so much. I think Hugh Nibley must have had them in mind when he once spoke of those who find it more commendable to get up at 5:00 A.M.to write a bad book than to get up at 9 a.m. to write a good book. While self-discipline is a virtue, it is obvious to Brother Nibley that the exact when we arise is not as important as what we do when we get up. I recall a group of students who once discussed which of the two styles of people I have just described offered the most appropriate model for emulation. They felt they had to choose between being relaxed about he gospel or being an intense perfectionist. After listening to the discussion, I felt that both these categories suffer from the same limitation. It is not much of a choice when one must choose frantic concern with perfection and a forced superficial happiness.
Both perspectives lack depth; they understand things too quickly and they may draw conclusions from their experience too easily. Neither is well prepared for adversity, and I fear that the first strong wind that comes will blow them over. I believe this is primarily because their roots have not sunk far enough into the soil of experience to establish a firm foundation. Both also reflect the thinness of a philosophy that is untempered by common sense. In both cases, it would be helpful simply to be more realistic about life’s experiences, even if that means facing some questions and limitations that leave us feeling uncomfortable. That very discomfort can motivate us toward real growth. As President Harold B. Lee said, The true church is intended not only to comfort the afflicted, but to afflict the comfortable. ~Bruce C. Hafen: The Believing Heart (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book: 1990) p.60-63
