Disgruntled

There really isn't a suitable word for the feeling that proceeds from contentious lessons. There is a guilty feeling. ("Where did we go wrong? What does Preach My Gospel say? Am I missing something when I teach? Have I failed to love? Don't I understand the doctrine?") Then there is question asking of an honest, edgy sort. ("What if they are right? What do I believe? Am I driven by dogma or true doctrine?") Sometimes there are even feelings of genuine anger. ("How dare they speak to my young, inexperienced companion like that?! Don't they know she's only 19 and homesick? Who treats young girls like that, anyway?!") Altogether, it is unpleasant and confusing.

Disgruntled is the best word I can find for this mess of emotion.

But you know what whispers quietly behind "disgruntled"? Wisdom. Because imperfection and suffering is instructive. Disgruntled leaves me with a thousand humbling, soul-searching questions to ask God.

And so I must give thanks. For the dear friend who lets us in out of sympathy to share a plate of cookies and gospel conversation, but who refuses to pray. For the Muslim mentor who fell in love with his missionaries instead of with the gospel. For the Ethiopian Coptic first-time investigator who soundly chastised us. For the doubting father who attends church with his family but who is letting himself fall away from God.

You teach me to love regardless of the outcome. You teach me to believe more fully in Christ, and to appreciate every form of godliness. You teach me to say as John, "He must increase, and I must decrease," lest our investigators love us more than they love Christ. You teach me to seek answers of God and not of men, lest I forsake the truths I love. You teach me to forgive, and to treat others with the Christianity that is occasionally denied us.

I am learning to be as Paul, and to glory in my weakness.

To learn from my trials.

To rejoice at all times in Jesus Christ and to be ready at all times to answer for the hope that is in me.