With all due respect to the late William Shakespeare, “To be or not to be?” may not actually be the question. If you are like many Latter-day Saints in the arts, the question may take on this tempting form instead: “Can't I have some of both?”

Some of us wrestle with discontent being “in the world,” unless we can dabble in being “of the world.” Wouldn't just a little bit of worldliness be OK?

Our answer to that question will depend in large measure on whether we view the gospel and its standards in absolute or relative terms. It may also depend on whether we believe that a righteous end justifies a potentially questionable means.

For example, should you work on an R-rated film so long as it portrays the subject matter in an historically accurate way, and if your success from that film might enable you to open doors for more uplifting fare in the future?

Should you perform in a low cut dress or slit mini-skirt if you can appeal to a broader audience, so long as you give lots of youth firesides and don't personally break the law of chastity?

This may be an explosive proposition, but as a preliminary litmus test of our leaning, let's consider a well known example from the world of sports. How would you answer this question? Would you be more inclined to say that your hero is Steve Young or Eli Herring?

Steve Young played professional football on Sundays for many years, yet remained true to core gospel standards. His professional success and clean living made him an attractive ambassador for the Church throughout North America and beyond. His wealth has allowed him to endow a formidable charity, whose efforts have benefited thousands. He married a beautiful woman in the temple and seems to lead a nearly perfect life.

Eli Herring, on the other hand, opted out of a lucrative football career because of a more literal interpretation of keeping the Sabbath Day holy. He expressed faith in the Lord's promised blessings for such obedience and became a high school math teacher.

Out of curiosity, I once did an Internet search on Eli Herring. It returned 108 entries. I did the same thing for Steve Young. It returned 169,000. Hmmm.

Was one path right and the other one wrong? Was one path better and the other path lesser? Was each path “right” for the individual who chose it? More importantly, what about you and I and the potential compromises we face in our career choices? I have an opinion on this, as I'm sure many of you do. Of course, mine may not be worth the pixels I'm writing it with. It's just one man's opinion, and certainly should not be taken as anything more.

Golden Opportunity

I grew up in the Midwest with my two best friends, Zack and Jeff (names changed). When we were young, we all dreamed of serving missions. As we got into high school, Jeff and I formed a rock band that became extremely popular around town. We wrote songs together and fantasized about the big time. We idolized the Osmonds and imagined ourselves giving firesides during a sold-out worldwide concert tour. We were as close as brothers.

But as Jeff approached his 19 th birthday, he began to fear that a mission would be a distraction from his music career. He didn't want to lose his edge and perhaps miss a golden opportunity. He skipped a mission and went to music school instead.

Fast forward fifteen years later. I ran into Jeff in Los Angeles. He was living in a small apartment with no furniture, except for a used coffee table. Sitting on that table was a 4-track cassette recorder, a small keyboard and some effects pedals for his guitar. Jeff had stopped attending church many years ago, had developed a foul mouth and other unhealthy vices, and was living with a woman who was not his wife. He was anxious to play me his latest demo, but had a day job in a business he didn't enjoy and hadn't yet earned a penny from his music.

While Jeff had been attending music school, I had been wearing a black and white name tag and knocking on doors in northern Italy. It was hard work and I remained anonymous to the world. But years later when Jeff was struggling personally and professionally, I found myself married to a beautiful Latter-day Saint woman in the temple, raising three vibrant children, serving in church callings and enjoying a prosperous career — in music. Turns out the golden opportunity Jeff missed was serving a mission.

Career Choices

My wife and I once entertained on Caribbean cruise ships. On our first ship, we were required to work on Sundays, beginning at 9:00 p.m. I rationalized that we were keeping the “Jewish” Sabbath, since we didn't go to work until after sunset. But I never felt quite at peace about it, and neither did my wife. We resolved that we would never work on Sundays again, and we prayed and expressed this commitment to the Lord, asking for His help in keeping that commitment.

Over the course of the next two years, we went to work on five different cruise ships, each of which required that we perform on Sundays. But in each case, we pled our case to management and made a firm stand about the Sabbath. In each case, somehow the Lord softened their hearts so that they agreed to give us Sundays off. We never worked another Sunday.

Shortly after being called to serve as a bishop, I faced a crisis in my career as a composer. No matter what I did, I couldn't seem to get anyone to hire me. I was discouraged and my bank account was emptying fast!

Although I felt great blessings and inspiration in my church service, it seemed that God had lost interest in my personal life. About this time, I was asked to write music for the sequel to a popular computer game. The developer told me that they were taking a more mainstream approach this time around, developing elaborate story elements and aiming squarely for a “T” rating.

I was thrilled. Finally! The Lord liked me after all, and was blessing me with work again! The game would be huge, the genre was intriguing, the pay was good, and I desperately needed the work. I started on the score and quickly delivered the first batch of cues.

Some time later, the manager called me. He said the team had taken a hard core turn with the game, increasing the gore and gratuitous violence significantly. He thought I might like to know.

What should I do? I had already started working on the game! They were depending on me! I had already delivered several tracks of music! My family needed the money, and I desperately needed the career boost! What would you do in this situation?

Right or wrong, I decided to take the Eli Herring route. I withdrew from the game. Some of my colleagues didn't understand. They thought I was foolish. Some thought I was being disloyal. Others were glad because my departure left an opening for them to participate in a highly successful product!

But I felt at peace about my decision. And what's more, I felt the Lord's pleasure in my decision. No money can buy that kind of pay-off.

Eventually, work did come again. Rewarding work. Profitable work. Critically acclaimed work. Music that accompanied vitally important commercials about adoption. Music for blockbuster game titles like King Kong, X-Men and Lord of the Rings . Even music for an Oscar-winning film project. Truly, God honors them who honor him.

Yet Another Test

Then as another test, a large media company in Hollywood offered me a very lucrative position. So many things about the offer were ideal. I would only have to work Monday through Thursday, allowing me to return to my home near Yosemite each Friday through Sunday. I could write and produce original music for a variety of high profile games, commercials, films and theme park attractions. I would have a generous benefits package and retain copyright ownership of key compositions. It was like a career dream come true!

Then we started talking about the projects that they had in their pipeline. Lots of R-rated films and M-rated games. I politely indicated that I didn't work on those titles and that I had built my career catering to a more mainstream audience. I mentioned somewhat tongue-in-cheek that most people in the industry already knew this about me, as I was publicly referred to at a recent industry convention as “The Good Reverend Chance.”

But they weren't having any of it. Talks broke down and the job offer was eventually withdrawn completely. Devastating! My dream job had gone up in smoke. What added more poignancy to the point was that I had been out of work again the preceding six months.

One of my friends said to me, “But hey, this is the perfect setup for one of those miracle stories like you always hear about tithing or something!” He was very optimistic about my future. He made lots of “when one door closes, another one opens” kinds of comments. That would be great, and I would love it, of course.

Then I thought of a landmark General Conference address entitled, “But If Not.”

Blessings Unseen

Is the promise of an open door what matters most to us when we decline an opportunity because of our standards? Isn't the most important thing that we choose to do what's right because it's right — not because we expect to get some sort of fairy tale ending?

Granted, the Lord promises blessings to the faithful. And we see many of those in our earthly walk. But I believe that perhaps the greatest of those blessings are unseen in this sphere, reserved for the next life. Otherwise, agency could be impeded.

Think about it. I'll concede the caveat that, “If you can't do the right thing for the right reason, do the right thing for the best reason you can find.” But Mormon's teachings about “full purpose of heart” keep ringing in my ears anyway.

The point is, I believe that the gospel standards we have embraced are absolutely true and absolutely meant to remain our standards, regardless. This even applies in the world of entertainment. One high priest quorum instructor used to say that gospel standards aren't intended only for the sterile environment of the lesson-laboratory. They are meant for the grit and grind of everyday life — even when some degree of sacrifice is required.

It all reminds me of the Lord's words about Oliver Granger recorded in the 117 th section of the Doctrine and Covenants. “His sacrifice shall be more sacred to me than his increase, saith the Lord.” That is food for thought. Pit sacrifice vs. increase, and sacrifice wins. This also brings to mind the differing desires of the twelve Nephite disciples recorded in 3 Nephi 28, to whom the Lord said of the three, “more blessed are ye.” There are lots of inferences for us to ponder in these two accounts.

The Mammon Test

Everyone knows that steady work is hard to come by for those of us working in the arts, even under the best of circumstances. There's a reason why you never hear the phrase, “starving accountant,” or “starving plumber.” It's always “starving artist.” Composers, directors, artists and others of our ilk would love to have a little more increase and a little less sacrifice, I'm sure. In light of all this, how do we view our standards when they are put through the tight squeeze of the mammon test? That, my friends, is the question.

Let's return to our discussion of sports heroes. Who would I choose between Steve Young and Eli Herring? It's a tough call, but I lean toward Eli Herring. In my very personal and non-authoritative opinion, I like the way he handled the God or Mammon issue. I would be honored to live in the guest quarters on his probable sprawling celestial estate. Do I also admire and respect Steve Young? Of course I do, tremendously! He has done amazing things for his family, for the Church, and for the community at large.

Will I make standards-based decisions in the future? I honestly don't know. I hope I will. Will you? I hope so too! As a bishop I have observed time and time again that even when members make decisions that differ from their standards, at whatever point and to whatever degree they turn back to the Lord, he always blesses them mightily from that point forward — with no respect of persons. The Lord is so good.