Never Enough
"Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect."
Matthew 5:48
Warren was a devout member of his congregation. He took his duties seriously. Felt he had a strong testimony, yet had never had a strong confirmation of his faith.
It's in the little things he often reminded himself.
The Lord is in the little things. I just have to keep looking for the everyday miracles.
Someone smiled at him at the grocery store. He thanked God for that tiny mercy. A small miracle of the day.
But he still didn't feel truly converted.
He could be doing more, he chided himself. He prayed multiple times daily, read his scriptures for an hour each morning, and served those around him. Warren could go on and on.
Why didn't it ever feel enough?
What was wrong with him?
This past general conference he had been sure there would be a message for him. After all, this was the restored gospel of Jesus Christ and he knew he could receive personal revelation. For God was a kind and merciful god. Surely, he could provide some answers and much needed assurance and comfort.
Though the messages were inspiring that weekend, all he got from it was that he still wasn't doing enough. He wasn't getting his answers because he wasn't praying hard enough or serving enough.
The prophets counsel was to pray and fast for revelation.
As the months went on, Warren increased his dedication. He prayed with real intent, studying out everything in his mind, he read scriptures and talks morning and night. He fasted every other day in addition to Fast Sunday. He even volunteered more of what little time he had at the temple. What more could he do? Where was the spiritual confirmation he was promised by the prophets of old? He yearned for the burning in his bosom.
His family was starting to get worried. They didn't see much of their priesthood holder anymore. Their sole provider. Warren's clothes hung more loosely about his slender frame and his eyes had become a little more gaunt. He refused to come out of his study after dinner on multiple occasions, insisting that he needed to work on church stuff.
Guilt and shame tormented Warren. How could he continue on in this way?
His wife went into the study to clean one day after Warren had left for the temple. Disgusted, she found the room littered with Conference issue Ensign magazines, books of scripture open with their pages covered in red pencil markings and the desk sprinkled in crumbs days old.
When Warren arrived home from the temple, he was grateful to see the study had been tidied. Another small miracle.
Before he could close the door, his wife intercepted him.
"Warren dear, you need help. This,” she gestured at the room, “is not the Warren I knew a few months ago. Your obsession with church study has gotten out of control. We never see you anymore."
Warren sighed. "I know I haven't been as present, honey. But I'm doing this for our eternal salvation. I've worked so hard…for us."
"We're supposed to work together, Warren. It doesn't all fall on just you. We got married so that we could enter into the highest kingdom and be together forever. You can't do this alone."
Warren casually brushed it off. "I know, I know. I just haven't gotten the answers I need yet."
"Please get help, Warren."
But Warren didn't need help. He was doing everything right. God would surely answer him. He had been true and faithful to his covenants. He regularly repented, constantly asking forgiveness and took the sacrament weekly. Soon, he thought*. Something will happen soon. I'm sure of it. *
Seasons passed and Warren had lost much of his youthful energy. He barely ate. He couldn't get out of bed most days. The crushing weight of needing to feel the burning confirmation of truth bore down on his soul.
His vigilant ministering brothers visited him one afternoon as they did every week. This time they brought in a bag of fast food. The smell of greasy fries wafted through the front door.
Upon entering the study, the two brethren wrinkled their noses, eyes darting about the room. Paper, old food, untouched dinner plates and dirty clothes covered the room.
"Hi Warren, how are you today? We brought you lunch!", offered Brother Gibbs.
Warren mumbled "Thank you," and humbly accepted the bag and set it next to his desk where a grossly large amount of other donations had accumulated.
Curiously, Warren noticed a look of unease and curiosity on their faces when they saw him.
Pleasantries were exchanged and Warren soon launched into a discussion about the topics he was currently researching. He enjoyed their company and conversation.
An hour passed when the ministering brothers got up to leave.
"Well, said Brother Ackerman, "we have to be on our way. Please eat something Warren. We are worried you're losing your strength. And you're looking a bit ghostly these days. No offense meant by that. Just concern."
Warren brushed it off with his usual response, "Well, I'll try to eat later. I'm fasting today."
"Ok, but let us know if there's anything you need."
Once in their car, Brother Gibbs cautiously asked the other, "Am I going crazy or was his skin looking a bit translucent?"
"I was thinking the same thing! It's like he is literally wasting away!" exclaimed the other.
Back inside the study, Warren thought it odd the way Brother Ackerman had said the word "ghostly".
He struggled out of his chair and stiffly walked to the bathroom. In the mirror, he barely recognized himself. His hair was graying and something about the edges of his reflection were blurred. He blinked.
What was happening to him? Was he seeing things? Warren blinked again. Still blurry. He rubbed at his eyes more vigorously.
Still no change. Warren sunk to his knees on the cold bathroom tile.
“Dear Heavenly Father”, he sobbed. “Please! What more do you want from me!”
Never enough.