Blessed are the Peacemakers

A few months after Jonah died someone I love very much told me he was gay.  His revelation was simple and sincere and not really a surprise, but we had never talked about it before.  He had never said the words "I am gay" and I had never asked.  Jonah's death seemed to open up a safe space in our hearts to be honest with each other about our lives.  I can't remember the specific words that were said, but I remember feeling overwhelming love for him.  I loved him more than I ever had before, and I knew without a doubt that our Heavenly Father loved him deeply. I also felt sure that my responsibility wasn't to persuade or to preach, but to love.  It has never been hard to love him.  

  

This week I've reflected on that experience amid the whirlwind of accusations and explanations surrounding the LDS church's new policy regarding the membership of children from same-sex marriages. I have tried to tap into that feeling of love as I have read articles, comments, and opinions on the subject. But instead I began to build a wall to protect my faith and to protect my family.  

I felt defensive because I love the LDS church. It feels like home to me. I have been carried through my darkest days by the simplicity of its doctrine and the Christ-like love of its members.  I have felt my hope restored as I have listened to the messages of it's leaders.  And most of all I have watched my parents and grandparents devote their lives to its ministry. My father is a Stake President, which means he presides over hundreds of individuals and approximately 10 congregations.  He serves them without pay. He sacrifices his limited time, outside of his profession, to help families meet their needs and solve their problems.  He shares his testimony of the Savior at countless meetings in hopes that each member of his flock will find peace as they deal with their unique trials. He rejoices with those who rise above their challenges, and he mourns with those that feel lost and alone.  He is good and honest and kind.  I know that there are thousands of good men and women like him throughout the church at every level of service and leadership.   

So my immediate reaction to accusations of bigotry, hatred, and nefarious intentions was to defend my faith and my family vigorously. 

But as the days have passed I have felt gently guided away from my defensive fortress and into a softer space of empathy. I have prayed that God would help me understand the actions of my church and the feelings of those who oppose it. I think one of life's greatest challenges is to mourn with those that mourn, and to sit in sorrow with someone even if we do not completely understand their pain. 

This morning I was blessed with a moment of empathy that opened my heart and mind.  I pondered how I would feel if the church's new policy affected me in a deeply personal way.  What if, hypothetically, the new policy was about in vitro fertilization, instead of gay marriage?  What if my opportunity to have a family was in direct conflict with my faith? It hit me hard that I would feel incredible sorrow. I would feel conflicted and maybe isolated.  I might feel wronged or misunderstood.  It would take time and prayer and love to work through the pain. I would hope that my faith would endure such a challenge and that I could keep an eternal perspective.  But even with perspective I would grieve what was lost.  

I know this is not a perfect comparison, and that I do not fully understand how those who are hurt by this policy feel.  But, I do know that I felt a return to love.  

I admire those who arrived with empathy quickly; those who did not waste time building a fortress. I admire the peacemakers on both sides of this issue that have acknowledged the others pain and offered love before explanation or accusation. I have heard touching stories of LDS families reaching out to their LGBT neighbors in gestures of genuine love and friendship.  I have read beautifully humble letters from the LGBT community seeking common ground and understanding.  These things have changed me.

I hope that next time my heart feels bruised I will stop the hard work of constructing an impenetrable wall.  Instead I hope I will seek to feel the love He has for all of His children.  I will pray to be given the gift of empathy. Then I will try to remember the words the Savior spoke at the Sermon on the Mount, 

Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.

Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. 

Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled.

Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.

Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God. 
Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God. 

Matthew 5: 3-9