The Anatomy of Finding Heaven

Last week I had the chance to follow a quiet stirring in my soul and do a good deed for a stranger whom I had struck up a conversation with.

Afterward, I couldn’t believe how intensely sweet and effulgent the feeling was that I experienced, and I was grateful to have had the chance to serve one of God’s children. As I drove away in my car, I glowed. I couldn't help but smile, and felt like I would almost burst with good-feelingness. And the thought occurred to me:

You cannot buy this feeling;
it must be given away.

I’m highly analytical about many of the feelings and thought-processes I have, especially lately. Over the last 6 months, I’ve read some books that have taught me a different way to see and live, and I pondered this incident. Here are a few of the things I found intriguing:

Once I had the desire and thought to serve this stranger, a second voice immediately followed with a rebuttal and reason not to.

(Because of the ideas I have been striving to live by, I chose to stop and consider the situation. In the past, I’ve most often just dismissed the original thought.)

• The rebuttal made sense, it was practical.
• It also painted my desire in a negative way, so that if I DID follow through and do it, I would think of myself in a negative light - as being impractical, naïve, and a sucker…doing something that was unnecessary.
• The rebuttal was entirely selfish, and thought nothing of the stranger’s circumstances –only of myself, my needs, and my desire to not be seen as impractical, etc.
• The rebuttal made the sacrifice seem very large.

• The desire was Christlike, sincere, and loving.
• The desire was an act of help & assistance.
• It reminded me that I am blessed beyond measure in my life, and my blessings are meant to be shared.
• I knew that God would see it as an act of kindness and love – He would be grateful that I reached out to one of his children who are struggling. There was no question of whether He would judge me as being impractical or unnecessary.
• That last realization made my sacrifice seem worth it – a tiny, even miniscule, thing to do.

I find it especially interesting to me the way that our natural man paints something so inaccurately of what it truthfully is…it is not a weak and stupid person that serves, sacrifices, and extends kindness; it is a strong and loving person. Acts of service are strong, not weak.

When I made my decision initially, I wasn’t convinced that it was the right thing to do. I quickly just decided I would follow the idea of not betraying my inner voice (which teaches me daily how to be,) and just do this thing. So, unlike so many other times when I had allowed the rebuttal to convince me, I fought it. I allowed the first instinct to win.

Once acted upon, the idea of my sacrifice was swept away, and my whole body was flooded with joy. The arguments existing in my mind seemed weak, hollow, flimsy, and selfish…there was nothing that could compare to the feeling I experienced, and it’s a feeling you can’t find or acquire by any other means. The feeling was worth much, much more than my sacrifice, and it was then that the above line of inspiration came to me.

A few weeks ago, I was talking with my sister about the unexpected side-effects of implementing more service in my weeks, and shared with her a thought I had regarding all the energy and joy I was experiencing:

Service is a gift you give

yourself

I am so grateful to be in a world where I have unlimited opportunities to serve, and to know of the sweetness such service and sacrifice can render in our own hearts and lives.

And I am inexpressively grateful for the knowledge and example of a Savior who lived and sacrificed daily, giving of his life and heart and wisdom to mankind, and who allowed his earthly life of love and service to end by giving the ultimate sacrifice – to choose to stay and perish on the cross in order to provide mankind with a way to be cleansed and healed from our sins and hurts which accumulate in this life. He was the ultimate example of one who was abused, misunderstood, mistreated, and betrayed…and he willingly, over and over, submitted with meekness and humility. These were not acts of weakness, but of strength. A strength I can’t begin to fathom. A strength rooted in God, our Eternal Father, and in truth. A strength that we have access to every day of our lives.