My children have been fantastic little instruments in my Heavenly Father's hands to help teach me about principles that I have otherwise struggled to comprehend.
One such principle that's been on my mind and in my heart lately is the idea of repentance.
My idea of repentance growing up was always that it was a punitive principle.
Repentance for me felt like guilt, shame, this constant weight of knowing that I wasn't doing enough or being enough or that what I was doing was wrong and bad.
If I didn't feel guilty, I wasn't repenting or repentant, and since no one likes feeling guilty all the time, I guess I wasn't very good at repenting, because it felt just plain awful to try.
Thankfully, I've grown up since then and learned from our dear leaders that repentance is meant to be a joy. (See President Russell M. Nelson's talk, "Spiritual Momentum", April 2022 Conference).
As we allow ourselves to feel the joy of daily repentance, we are able to work through the guilt and shame that come when we sin, make mistakes, and generally live beneath the privileges and opportunities available to us.
This can be a much more simple and pain-free process than we sometimes think it is.
An example came to mind a few weeks ago.
Ollie, my four-year-old loves to go barefoot, but when we have to go somewhere and shoes are absolutely required, flip-flops are the closest thing he can get to still being barefoot and yet being socially acceptable enough for Mom.
The problem is, because he’s four, he wasn’t great about putting his flip-flops on the correct way. Oftentimes he would be proudly strutting into the store while struggling to keep shoes on that were nearly perpendicular to his actual feet.
I would usually stop him in these moments and say, “Ollie, your shoes are on the wrong feet, Buddy. Let’s take them off and switch them; you’ll be a lot more comfortable with your flip-flops on right.”
The first several times we had this interaction, it was a complete gamble as to how he would respond. Sometimes he would willingly stop, sit down, and switch his shoes over; more often he would cry, angrily claim that he liked the way they were, or stubbornly refuse to change them, continuing to limp around the store in shoes that were obviously uncomfortable.
But after about a month of having this interaction nearly every time we went out, he started coming to me every time he put his shoes on.
“Mom, are these on the right feet?” he would ask.
I would glance, and then say either “yes” or “no.”
If “yes,” we would cheer a little and rejoice over his ability to put his shoes on right.
If “no,” he would sit down (no more tantrums at this point, although sometimes he would give a discouraged “Awwwwww, man,”) and change his shoes over.
It was probably about the 187,034th time of this interaction that I saw, in a flash of insight, the parallels to my own repentance process.
Repentance is meant to be a daily experience; one utilized every time we find ourselves at odds with who we want to become.
At first, as we are still unfamiliar with what that means, we may experience shame, discouragement, or frustration at the prospect of realizing that we’re doing something wrong.
We may sit down and cry in discouragement and embarrassment, claiming that it’s too hard to change.
We may angrily claim that we like the way we are and that it’s not fair for someone else to ask us to change.
We may stubbornly refuse to change what we’re doing, even as part of us recognizes the discomfort of knowing that we’re doing something wrong.
However, as we become more familiar with the prospect of repentance and humbly revisit this scenario, it can shift to become a smooth process for us to go to God, willingly asking Him what He would have us change, and then metaphorically sit down and take off our shoes.
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