Happiness is a
choice.
If, by this
statement, you mean to say, “Have a heart full of gratitude,” “Keep an eternal
perspective,” or “Don’t make things worse by being grumpy,” then I agree.
But if you are
suggesting, rather, that at any given moment in time I can (or even should)
simply choose to feel “happy” instead of sad, then agree I do not.
English synonyms
for “happy” --
Pleasure
Cheerful
Jovial
Untroubled
Gleeful
Pleased
Joyful
These words convey a feeling of elation and cause us to envision a face with a full-toothed smile and light-filled eyes. But who honestly feels that way when they are grieving the loss of a spouse, the death of a child, suffering through chemotherapy, or experiencing the anguish of a mental illness?
The oversimplified statement, although well-intended,
foolishly suggests that someone in the depths of despair – an essential part of
our mortal experience – should simply choose to stop feeling that way and “be
happy.” But sorrow and long-suffering are key components of God’s Plan of
Happiness, not experiences we simply “choose” not to have. Please don’t take my
character-building trials and accompanying emotions away from me by suggesting
that they are optional.
When Adam and Eve lived in innocence before the Fall,
their childlike lives were likely to consist of gleeful moments, jovial
experiences, and untroubled times – a state that our English language would sum
up as “happiness” according to the definition above. But Nephi teaches us that
this state of “happiness” does not have the same depth or definition as Heavenly
Father’s full “Plan of Happiness.” “Wherefore they would have remained in a
state of innocence having no joy, for they knew no misery” (2 Nephi 2:23). Misery
and joy are two sides of the same coin. There is no joy without suffering.
I think of the “manner of happiness” or happiness as “a
condition of the soul” in the 3-dimensional perspective of a roller coaster. There
are deep lows of long-suffering and sorrow, slow rises full of reassuring peace
and contentment, brief moments of elation, and all sorts of twists and turns in
between. We can’t sum up the entire roller coaster ride by looking only at the
picture the amusement park takes right as we’re going over the edge – it doesn’t
fully represent the heights and depths of the entire experience. Our ability to
fully experience long-suffering and sorrow allows us to develop a depth of
character that would not have been achievable prior to the Fall.
In our daily use of the word “happy” we use it to express
how we are feeling in the moment – our temporary emotional state. God, who is
not bound by time, uses it to describe an eventual state of being, a “condition
of the soul.” This is why He talks about it as a “plan of happiness” or refers
to it as people living “after the manner of happiness,” rather than simply
commanding us to “Just choose to be happy.”
He does, however, command us to “be of good cheer.” Is
that not the same thing? It is if you confine yourself to the limited English
connotation: Cheer is happiness, joy, gladness, merriment, and
lightheartedness. Although it sounds like it’s one-upped the word “happy” in its
level of maturity and gratitude, it still lacks depth. It still seems fleeting.
But in Hebrew, the command to “be of good cheer” is a command “to be of good
courage.” This seems to make so much more sense, considering the majority of
the people in the scriptures who are told to be of good cheer are experiencing
great fear, not sorrow (Mark 6:50, John 16: 33, D&C 61:36). Despite the
famous lyrics, “Don’t worry, be happy,” I would never tell someone that is
terrified, “Don’t be scared. Be happy.” But I might tell them, “Don’t be
afraid. Be brave.” This becomes even more meaningful when you take apart the
Hebrew words found in the scripture “be strong and of a good courage.” “Strong”
comes from the word “chazak” which implies strength that comes from binding
oneself to something – in this context, to God. The word “courage” comes from
the Hebrew word “emas” which suggests a “strength in resolution” or “being firm
in one’s position.”
In Hebrew, the word for happy is “Asher,” meaning “blessed.”
Can a person who is grieving the loss of a spouse, suffering
through chemotherapy, or experiencing the anguish of a mental illness feel
blessed? Can they make choices that bind themselves to God, and as a result,
feel a firm resolution to press forward in spite of trials or pain? Through the
gifts of agency and grace, people who experience suffering while maintaining an
eternal perspective feel this type of “happiness” often.
I don’t believe happiness is a choice.
I believe happiness (God’s plan for us) is a result of a series of righteous choices
(living after the manner of happiness), and that true happiness – not just a
temporary emotional state – inevitably involves a journey of sorrow,
long-suffering, peace, contentment, and joy... without which, happiness would be
superficial and fleeting.
Though I may not always feel "untroubled" or "jovial," I will choose to follow His plan, for true happiness is deep and infinite.
I neglected to acknowledge the very important reason for why we are able to experience any happiness (the deep, sweet kind that comes from having experienced bitterness) at all.
ReplyDelete*During Passover, ancient Jews were to eat "maror," or bitter herbs, before eating of the Paschal lamb. The bitter herbs were to remind them of their slavery, and the lamb to remind them of their deliverance. The meal was to symbolize the idea that one must taste of the depths of slavery to prize the joy of freedom. We know that the lamb is really symbolic of "The Lamb," or the Savior. It is through Christ (who partook of the bitter cup so we don't have to) that all of life's bitter experiences can be turned sweet. It's important to note that "freedom is meaningless if one has never felt confined," hence the importance of the bitter. (Interesting note: According to a couple of things I read, the Jews no longer eat the Paschal lamb as part of Passover because they believe they are still in exile. If only they would accept the Savior so their lives could be sweeter!)
*In Exodus 15, the children of Israel are led out of Egypt into the wilderness. Although the Lord saves them from the Egyptians, they have no source of drinking water. They find a body of water that is undrinkable, so they name it "Marah," which in Hebrew is bitter. Skip forward in time to Lehi's vision in which he sees a tree "whose fruit was desirable to make one happy" (Interesting use of the word happy, yes? 1 Nephi 8:10). After asking of God, Nephi learns that this tree of life is symbolic of the "love of God" (1 Nephi 11:22), which perfect love was manifested in God giving the world His Only Begotten Son (John 3:16). Back to the children of Israel. Now that we know that even trees are symbolic of Christ, we shouldn't be surprised to discover that when Moses asked God to heal the bitter waters of Marah, "the Lord shewed him a tree, which when he had cast into the waters, the waters were made sweet" (Exodus 15:25).
*In Isaiah 61:1-3, Jesus Christ testifies: "the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound... to comfort all that mourn... to give unto them beauty for ashes (i.e. sweet for bitter)." In my studies, I learned that fine porcelain is made from clay that contains ashes (typically burnt animal bones). After the clay goes through painful changes and dizzying circumstances as directed by the hand of the potter (Isaiah 64:8), the product is not finished until it is tried by extreme heat. But when it comes out, it's is beautiful! This scripture also brought to mind some of our family trips to Yellowstone, where I saw for myself how beauty can come from ashes. I learned that after forest fires, wildflowers and new pine tree seedlings often spring up, creating new life in place of the old. Without "The Potter" and the refiner's fire, however, ashes would just be ashes.