* * * * *
– Second Hand Heart –
Performed by Ben Haenow
(Featuring Kelly Clarkson)
The light of the morning finds you sleeping in my bed
And it’s not like the stories; it’s never like what they said
I know who you want me to be but I’m just not there yet
Yeah, the broken road’s always been home and it’s so hard to forget
Wait for me now
Will you wait for me now?
CHORUS:
I might think too much, drink too much, stay out too late
I know I’m just a fool, but I swear I can change
I can’t steal you the stars, but I can give you this secondhand heart
All your friends think I’m hopeless, they don’t understand
That this imperfect love can start over again
It’s been broken apart, but will you still take my secondhand heart?
(FIRST STANZA REPEATS)
(CHORUS REPEATS)
FIRST BRIDGE:
If you let me show you, I could love you the same
And I can’t steal you the stars, but I can try every day
Oh, you know they’ll never tear us apart
SECOND BRIDGE:
And I’m just a fool, but I swear I can change
And I can’t steal you the stars, but I can try every day
Oh, you know you got my secondhand heart
(SECOND BRIDGE REPEATS)
* * * * *
“If you let me show you, I could love you the same
And I can’t steal you the stars, but I can try every day
Oh, you know they’ll never tear us apart
… you know you got my secondhand heart”
“The beauty of the Gospel of Jesus Christ is that it makes us all equal in as far as we keep the commandments of the Lord. In as far as we observe to keep the laws of the Church we have equal opportunities for exaltation.”
~ In Conference Report, Oct. 1933, 25.
This quote by then-Elder Smith was among the first of a collection of quotes that I began recording shortly after I joined the LDS Church. I wrote them in a spiral-bound notebook and later meticulously transferred them to my computer where my collection has reached over 300 quotes from LDS prophets, apostles, and general authorities. As I’ve pondered the closing of this Song Dissection essay series, and these final few lyrics, I’ve reflected much on my distant past, the recent past, the present, and my future in order to write about what these lyrics meant to me when I first heard them, and what they mean to me now.
Growing up as a closeted, gay young man, and also living with Tourette syndrome and obsessive compulsive disorder, I was frequently torn between wanting to fit in with everyone else, while still desiring to stand out among the crowd as someone unique and special. I recognized my talents and wanted to share them with others, perhaps in compensation for possessing so many visible and invisible flaws and shortcomings.
I wanted to be included while internally my sexuality made me feel excluded from others, especially other males. Outwardly, I couldn’t help but be noticed with my frequent vocal and motor tics. I’ve thought about this period of my life a lot, with sorrow, regret, shame, and anger—for the ways in which I was treated, for the ways I behaved and acted out while yearning for attention.
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| It's an interesting feeling to know that you stand out from the crowd while having a strong desire to fit in with others. |
Looking back now, I feel that what I really wanted most was to be noticed and acknowledged on my own terms rather than forced into public view by the disorders that ruled me. I wanted to be liked because of my good qualities, not necessarily my outstanding quirks; I wanted to feel important because of my human worth, not because others felt sorry for me. Many days I wanted just to blend in with the crowd (preferably the more popular, well-liked groups); other days I longed to juxtapose myself across social circles and be admired by all. My sometimes erratic behavior got me into a lot of trouble during high school as I struggled so hard to find a comfortable place among my peers, while maintaining my individual identity (as I simultaneously suppressed my sexual identity, albeit very poorly).
It’s an interesting feeling to know that some integral part (or parts) of who you are—like your sexual orientation, gender identity, race, ethnicity, etc.—make(s) you unequal to everyone else around you in ways that you cannot fully comprehend in your youth. I think this is why I sought early on to find a community or clique that understood me and appreciated my differences, while also not emphasizing them. People who wanted me, needed me, but with whom I fit in like a piece of a larger puzzle. People I could be mostly myself around without censoring, silencing, or second-guessing.
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| Like a phoenix from the ashes, my trials have given rebirth to my confidence to be unique in a pool of cultural homogeneity. |
Over the last several years, I have caved to the idea that I cannot be the Latter-day Saint or disciple of Christ that my Mormon peers expect me to be, which is a devastating inclination for someone like me, who for so long felt rescued by my faith and devoted to it for life (and eternity). Yet my realizations brought me very near to leaving the Church for the second time, just a year ago. Though the ways in which I’ve grown in the last year are important, they are subtle even to me, and I will not try to explain them. What I can articulate is that, like a phoenix that survives its own self-induced flames, this process of suffering and starting over has renewed my sense of identity and self-worth and given birth to a new confidence that inspires and emboldens me to embrace my outstanding differences in a pool of cultural sameness.
I have chosen not to succumb to the trends of homogeneity in my faith. I invite and embrace human diversity in all its many forms, especially with people and in places where diversity is too-often viewed as rebellion, irreverence, or lackadaisical discipleship. I am pushing back, gently, against the impossible cultural standards where I live, work, and attend school and church, which is saturated with toxic messages that do not reflect the God I know and the gospel I have come to love.
With a large portion of my faith and testimony restored, I am trying to make a place for myself in the church, just as I am—no apologies, no explanations, and no guilt. I am striving to show my fellow Mormons that I can love God the same as they do, and that it doesn’t matter if I wear a rainbow tie tack to church, or bring my sparkly man-purse to activities, or whether I talk openly in meetings about my sexuality or speak up to correct misguided generalizations about people and unfair blanket statements that exclude others.
It has been said before (and reiterated by LDS leaders) that we ought not to judge others for “sinning differently” than we do—because we all sin (Romans 3:23). I offer that it is just as courteous, if not critical, to apply the same token by not judging others (in this instance, fellow Latter-day Saints) for worshipping differently than we do—because we all worship the same God. We are brothers and sisters of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and our faith should unite us in every respect, where too often it divides us in petty and insensible ways.
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| "Come As You Are" by Greg Olsen Copyright © 2018 by Greg Olsen |
The only inapplicable portion of the lyrics in this instance is that I am not asking for permission to squeeze my way into a toxic culture that proscribes me from being who I am; I am deliberately making a place for myself there in the hope that I can force a few people out of their comfortable cultural bubbles to see that Mormons are not cookie-cutter people, as I like to call them—nor do we have to be. What unites us is that we love the Lord, we know where we came from, why we are here, and where we want to go—back home to our Heavenly Parents.
It’s true that I will never be able to prove to God that I will always be faithful to Him and the covenants I’ve made in His holy house. My experience as a Latter-day Saint has been wracked with ups and downs. But like the lyrics of the song, I can acknowledge the majesty and splendor of the star-filled heavens while recognizing, trustingly, that they are not in my power to command. Perfection is not a reality of mortality; it is a blessing of eternity. What’s important now is that I continue to aim for the stars, knowing that in time I will reach them.
Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf, an apostle of the Lord, and then a member of the First Presidency of the Church once gave this beautiful anecdote:
“The perfect place to begin is exactly where you are right now. It doesn’t matter how unqualified you may think you are or how far behind others you may feel. The very moment you begin to seek your Heavenly Father, in that moment, the hope of His light will begin to awaken, enliven, and ennoble your soul. The darkness may not dissipate all at once, but as surely as night always gives way to dawn, the light will come.
“Isn’t it wonderful to know that we don’t have to be perfect to experience the blessings and gifts of our Heavenly Father? We don’t have to wait to cross the finish line to receive God’s blessings. In fact, the heavens begin to part and the blessings of heaven begin to distill upon us with the very first steps we take toward the light.
~ “The Hope of God’s Light,” Ensign, May 2013, 75.
When I was baptized, I was under the impression that rising out of the warm waters of the baptismal font made me clean from my sins—which I felt were many, even at age 16—and that it was my responsibility to never sin again. I remember how awful I felt when I transgressed the new law of my life as a covenant member of God’s Kingdom soon after. Similar vices have stayed with me since then, and I don’t imagine they will ever leave—I will probably always be tempted to sin and transgress in ways that have long helped me to cope, find relief, self-soothe, and bring comfort.
But how wrong I was to assume that becoming a disciple of Christ meant being a perfect mortal at all times and in all places. I have learned through trial and error that God’s only expectation for me is to do my best and let the atonement of Jesus Christ make up for the rest. I am happy for the times when I am strong in the faith; but I have seen too many like me leave, and have myself wanted to leave (or have done so) too many times to erroneously assume that I will always be a Mormon. I simply don't know, and try not to speculate either way.
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| I take comfort in knowing that the Lord knows all the chapters of my life, and all the feelings of my heart. |
He knows my heart’s hurt, its sorrow, its passion, its love, its devotion—for all things, including Him. He knows perfectly, intimately, every story my heart could tell, because He was with me through the telling of them all. He took my heart gently in His pierced hands and mended it after every conflict, struggle, and sin that bruised it, broke it, and crushed it. And I am confident that all that my secondhand heart has felt and endured will be taken into account in the end; and I believe this will hold greater power in the final judgment of God over any choices we may make in order to find further peace and fulfillment and to endure well to the end.
When I look at my brothers and sisters and see addictions, transgressions, weakness, hatred, and foolishness, I am reassured that Christ knows every detail of their turmoil, and all the reasons for their actions. And I am thankful that my tales of success, failure, struggle, and triumph are forever written in the hands and feet of the Master Storyteller, who will mercifully consider all the chapters of my life—both told and untold—before making His final review. “For the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7).
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In the Roman Catholic tradition, the Most Sacred Heart of
Jesus, or Sacratissimum Cor Iesu in Latin, is a devotion (non-liturgical, or
personal, form of worship) recognized annually by a solemnity, or religious
celebration, called the Feast of the Sacred Heart, which takes place outside of
regular Sunday worship. Pope Pius IX established the solemnity of the Sacred
Heart in 1856 as obligatory for the whole church. The devotion to the Sacred Heart is one of
the most well-known and widely practiced devotions in Catholicism, taking the
physical heart of Jesus Christ as the representation of His divine love for
humanity.
Considering that the Feast of the Sacred Heart will be celebrated
this week (June 8, 2018) by Catholics worldwide, I found this painting by an
unknown artist to be an appropriate conclusion to this essay series, showing
the Savior holding His own perfect, but once-wounded heart in His hands—also symbolic,
perhaps, of the way the Lord holds our hearts in perfect love and mercy.
It is
my prayer that the followers of Christ, in many faiths, will remember always
that Jesus knows how to heal our secondhand hearts because His own beating
heart was once stilled for our sakes, and brought to life again through His
miraculous resurrection. Our Redeemer
lives, and I testify of it!
To my readers, thank you for joining me on this literary
journey.
~ Wade
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