The Lord does not Grade on a Curve

It is an inevitable fact of life that we compare ourselves to others. Yet it can be a very dangerous practice. If we give ourselves a superior rating, we fall into the trap of pride. President Ezra Taft Benson has warned us that "the proud depend upon the world to tell them whether they have value or not. Their self-esteem is determined by where they are judged to be on the ladders of worldly success" ("Beware of Pride," Ensign, May 1989, p. 6).

If we see ourselves at the top of the ladder, we diminish the significance of others, sometimes overlooking important qualities that our grading scale ignores. We may not even be aware that we are doing this.

Not long ago, Rex and I visited a small ward in another part of the world. There was no organ or piano present. The bishop didn't own a suit jacket or even a tie. The Relief Society president didn't use a day planner. But the spirit in those meetings filled our hearts with love for our Savior and for our fellow beings. We went there thinking that because of our vast Church experience here on the Wasatch Front, there might be some way we could help lift or teach this little ward. Instead, they taught and lifted us with their pure testimonies of Christ.

An equally dangerous practice is giving ourselves an inferior rating. In this instance we often compare our weakest points with everybody else's strongest ones. If we believe we are at the bottom of the ladder of success, we feel defeated. I remember one afternoon sitting as a family in a sacrament meeting where a talented family performed a beautiful musical number. Each instrument was perfectly tuned and exquisitely played, creating an atmosphere of truly celestial music. At first I listened attentively, but soon a part of me became distracted as my thoughts broke through the Spirit. What kind of mother am I? I should have made our children practice more. Then, glancing at my row of children, I thought: Don't kid yourself—our gene pool just didn't produce great musicians. I supposed we could polish the piano keys, carry the instrument cases, or even wheel in the harp. But at that moment, in my very narrow perception, I felt we were among the lowly, and this musical family was surely several rungs up the celestial staircase.

Why do we do that to ourselves? When someone else does something well or owns something we do not have, why do we immediately knock ourselves down a rung or two? Appreciating the abilities and resources of others should lift us, not diminish us in any way. Every time we see or hear something of merit, we should be better because of it. The Lord must have intended it to be that way, because each of us has been given different gifts, unique abilities, and varying insights.

We cannot have every talent and every virtue. The only way we can experience all that is virtuous, lovely, or of good report, or praiseworthy is to enjoy at least some of it vicariously. We may never play tennis like Chris Evert, sing like Ariel Bybee, or throw a football like Steve Young, but we can come closer to appreciating those talents if we spend our time in joyful observation rather than in degrading envy. If we are troubled by the inadequacies of our home when we visit our neighbor, then we have rejected their gift of hospitality. If we belittle ourselves when we study with a brilliant friend, we close our minds to at least part of what we could be taught. If we berate ourselves as we observe the gentle nature of President Hunter, we miss the magic of his example. Being able to appreciate and encourage the gifts of others may well be the greatest gift of all.

Whatever we are doing, wherever we see ourselves on the scale of life, we need to put aside the world's preconceived notions of what we should be and remember, "The Lord doesn't grade on a curve."