The Equation
Our family reunion addictions workshop illuminated more than just my obsessions with schedules and peanut butter. It exposed the mirror through which I view myself: fragmented, patched with Elmer’s, representable by some complex equation:
x = (y-z)(a+b+c+d) - (f+g+h+i)
where
x = me
y = my net worth, in dollars and cents
z = female accomplishment since the dawn of time
a = hours spent housecleaning, scripture-reading, or weight-losing
b = cub scout badges sewn on sons’ uniforms
c = dollars earned in home business or saved in bargain shopping
d = cookies or casseroles delivered to needy neighbors
f = decibels my voice rises at any point on any given day
g = desserts consumed
h = to-do list items remaining un-checked after midnight
and i = should-do items that never even made the to-do list
Examining this equation, I suddenly understood why sometimes, I yell at my children—even when I’ve resolved not to. Why sometimes I slam doors, curse clocks, and cry buckets. Why I rarely feel praiseworthy and regularly slap my own figurative face.
The “x” is usually negative.
The Truth
But the equation’s a fraud.
That’s what I learned at the family reunion: My equation is counterfeit, but God’s is real, and His works.
My parents could have named me Independence. (Independence or Nancy Drew, but that’s another essay altogether.) I pommelled my way to earth without any kind of medical attendant, debuting so abruptly that my dad delivered me, relieved he’d paid attention in Prenatal 101. My grandmother claims by two I lisped my slogan: “I can do it by all myself.” Thirty years later, my husband will tell you, not much has changed, save—in the spirit of “they twain shall be one flesh” (and that, by the way, is its own essay, too)—”all myself” now includes him, my indisputably better half.
The problem with do-it-yourself determination is self-evident: you can’t. Not even multiplied by world’s best spouse. I know. I’ve tried. Note the equation. It doesn’t work. And, contrary to twenty years’ fallacious reasoning, I’m not the one exceptional misfit who comes out of the equation in red. It doesn’t work for me and it doesn’t work for anyone—not even Sister Incredible who seems to have it all together. Every “x” ends up negative when defined in those counterfeit terms.
The good news is my Heavenly Father never measures in my equation. He offers another:
x must = X
where x = me, his daughter
and X = Him, the Omniscient, Omnipotent God, the Eternal Father
Of course, just as my bundles-of-newborn-baby-chub-and-cuddles are infinitely precious but incontestably less capable than I, even so I am nothing compared to my Heavenly Father. Though I want
x = X,
reality is that
x < X
and will be forever and ever.
Always.
The Way
Knowing this would be the case, that Eternal Father prepared means whereby the problem might equate. His Son, Jesus Christ, in the meridian of time propelled His own way to earth much like I did: unattended save by parents, in a stable, bedded in straw. Unlike me, He claimed Deity as Father of His body and spirit. He exercised power over temptation. He fulfilled all righteousness. At His ministry’s end, He offered Himself as sacrifice for my shortcomings and sins. He gave Himself as ransom, the Infinite Atonement. He suffered, bled, died, and on the third day, rose again. For Him, and Only for Him, God’s equation works:
JC = X
To me, this means hope. Of myself, I am nothing; but with Him, I amount to more. At baptism, I took His name upon me. Determined to serve Him to the end, I promised to take His name, keep His commandments, and always remember Him. When I keep my baptismal covenant, He swallows me up in His perfection, in the enabling power of His Infinite Atonement. In algebraic terms, that looks like this:
x + JC > (y-z)(a+b+c+d) - (f+g+h+i)
Always.
What’s more, because
JC = X,
x + JC will one day = X, too.
Through His Infinite Atonement, I become One with Him. And when I am One with Him, He makes me whole.
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