A word to those who think, "Well, if you don't like church, Mr. Smarty-Pants, why do you even bother going?"
I go for the same reason you go, Brother Wiseguy — because I want to. The difference is that not everyone is pliant enough to park their hams for two hours and call it being spiritually fed.
If church is supposed to be universally edifying, why do kids act out in it, old people fall asleep during it, and those with attention-deficit disorder like me start entertaining impure thoughts just to alleviate the monotony of listening to things we've heard 10,000 times already?
If your mind has ever wandered during a church meeting — and let's not pretend it hasn't — it means you weren't always riveted by the message either.
Moving on. I was about 10 when I learned that the struggle with boredom in church wasn't mine alone. My father, who always appeared deeply engrossed in the service, let me know that such was not always the case.
One Sunday, after dragging me out of the chapel for a midsermon drubbing, he suggested I find better ways to entertain myself during talks than threatening to wipe mucus on my sister.
"When I was your age," he said, "we would open the hymnal and add 'underneath the bedcovers' to the end of every song title."
At first I couldn't believe the Old Man was suggesting I be irreverent, but then I realized he didn't care what I did so long as I was quiet about it and didn't embarrass Mom.
It worked. Sort of.
"Come, Come, Ye Saints — Underneath the Bedcovers" was a much more interesting title for the hymn. So was "Have I Done Any Good in the World Today — Underneath the Bedcovers?"
The problem was that eventually I got bored with the Old Man's title addition and started thinking up my own.
"Choose the Right" was even better when it was "Choose the Right — Where Rats Eat Ramona" (a girl I hated). And "Who's on the Lord's Side Who — With Wolfman Boogers?" made me laugh. I had to cover my mouth so tightly that I actually blew mucus on my sister, which ended in another whacking.
I'm older now and slightly more mature. I think up other ways to entertain myself. For example, during the most recent General Conference session I attended, I sat near a family with a small boy. By the second speaker, the poor kid was visibly seething.
Before he started acting out, I gave him some M&M's. The first five were free. Then I convinced him to cross his eyes to get more. Then it was making a pig face. It was like training a monkey. Hilarious.