I've suffered from terminal niceness most of my life. It has almost killed me. Why? Because a commitment to niceness can compromise integrity.

Integrity is the very essence of the spirit self, so when I have been nice instead of honest I've sometimes betrayed myself — lost myself. Sometimes I've been nice when the real need of the situation was to stand up and be counted. When I've been nice instead of courageous I've missed great opportunities to stand for the right. It isn't always right to be nice.

Jesus as the Standard

That's why Jesus wasn't always nice. Jesus wasn't nice to the scribes and Pharisees. Several times he said things such as, “Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For ye shut up the kingdom of heaven against men: for ye neither go in yourselves, neither suffer ye them that are entering to go in” (Matthew 23: 15).

He wasn't nice when he said, “Ye make clean the outside of the cup and the platter; but your inward part is full of ravening and wickedness” (Luke 11:39). He call them “fools” in the next verse.

Jesus wasn't nice to the lawyers when he said, “Wo unto you, lawyers! For ye have taken away the key of knowledge; ye entered not in yourselves, and them that were entering in ye hindered” (Luke 11:52). He wasn't nice when he cast the moneychangers out of the temple or when he remained silent when questioned.

But He was always true to Himself and His high purposes. He was perfect in His integrity.

Is there a cure for terminal niceness? Can I recover? Can I learn to be more like Jesus and refuse to compromise my integrity?

I suspect the germ that causes the disease of terminal niceness is over-concern about what others think. The Lord called it relying on the arm of flesh instead of on the arm of God.

The scriptures document the devastation that results from relying on the arm of flesh. In modern times, we have the example of Joseph Smith giving in to Martin Harris's relentless request to take the 116 pages.

Joseph really wanted to be nice to Martin, to please him, because Martin had been such a faithful supporter. When the pages were lost, Joseph was severely chastised and told he should not fear man more than God. Joseph took the Lord's advice to heart. The Lord gave him reassurance, and reminders.

In D&C 122:8 Joseph was told, “Thy days are known, and thy years shall not be numbered less; therefore, fear not what man can do, for God shall be with you forever and ever.”

Joseph's courage and integrity stand as an example to all of us. In spite of relentless persecution and betrayal of many he counted as friends, he continued to steadfastly rely on God and not fear what man could do, even when he knew he was going to Carthage to die.

In 2 Samuel 24 we read of David being in a great dilemma, having sinned and drawn his people into great danger of destruction. The prophet Gad came to him, offering some interesting choices. In verse 14 we read, “And David said unto Gad, I am in a great strait; let us fall now into the hand of the Lord; for his mercies are great: and let me not fall into the hand of man.”

In our day, our answer should be the same. Whatever form it takes — “peer pressure,” seeking the praise of men, having to choose between integrity and money — it is possible to “fall into the hand of the Lord,” rely on the word of God, the Spirit of God, the arm of God instead of man's wisdom or man's approval. A decision to trust God and place ourselves in His hands is always right. Right choices keep integrity intact and safeguard our heavenly connection, but do they guarantee constant happiness here and now?

The scriptures say of the Savior, “He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrow, and acquainted with grief” (Mosiah 14:3; also Isaiah 53). Even Jesus' perfection did not insulate him from true sorrow and grief, although it came primarily from the wrong choices of others, and never from his own mistakes or sins, as mine does.

However, we all can experience sorrow simply from the realities of this mortal experience. We live in a world where “opposition in all things” is the rule, and where the Lord decreed that there would be “briars and thorns and noxious weeds to afflict and torment man.”

I've had my share of briars and thorns and noxious weeds in life, and sometimes took them more personally than I should have because of a childhood belief that if I did what was right life would be fine and I would always be happy. Of course, we know that long-term joy is definitely tied in to right choices, but since I can't control outcomes, storms, accidents, wars, famines, or the choices of countless others whose decision affect my life, my level of current happiness is not!

So where did I get this skewed perception? And why did I think it was part of being good to be smiling all the time, (regardless of how I felt inside), that it was bad to show any sadness?

Part of it was from childhood songs, such as:

For so much of my life I “hid” behind a smile and thought I was being righteous. I remember so many times yearning to be real and not being able to. I often felt one-dimensional and phony. People often called me the lady who smiles all the time.

The depth of my problem was revealed when I found myself smiling while updating people following my former husband's plane crash that was such a disaster. Nothing could have been more inappropriate — but I didn't know how not to smile. It was a habit that was deeply ingrained and reinforced by family and friends who had always enjoyed my sunshiny nature.

It was like stepping out of character to be three-dimensional, but in a hundred ways, big and small, life kept giving me invitations to break out of a pattern that had become like prison bars to me. (Ironically, I've gone through a few periods of depression in the past few years where I found it totally impossible to smile. That's even less fun!)

Things have changed so much for me in the past couple of decades that I can hardly relate to my former surfacey, smiley self. It's next to impossible for me now not to be real, not to be honest about what is really going on in my life (at least with those I know the best.) I suppose I still smile at church no matter what, out of habit and because that is not the place to let it all hang out. But I make no bones about the fact that I don't always feel like smiling.

Thinking more about the Savior in this regard, nothing seems more far-fetched than imagining him grinning all the time. I can imagine tender smiles of compassion, but more often concerned and loving expressions. I'm sure he didn't smile at the Pharisees!

The mother of a friend I met at a recent Heart t' Heart conference rewrote the smiles song and I like her new words. Her daughter called her new lyrics "Smiles for a New Millennium":

In every aspect of personal character, we can look to Jesus as our exemplar. As I study the New Testament, His magnificence is characterized most by His personal courage. Despite the cost, He was true to himself. Despite the cost, He spoke the words the Father sent Him to this earth to speak.

His words did not please the vast majority of His audiences. His doctrine did not placate people or make Him popular. He was not known for his niceness, but for His cutting-to-the core truthfulness. Early on in His ministry many condemned in their own hearts by His words, and others who felt their position of leadership was threatened by Jesus began their plots to kill Him. Jesus walked a thorny path surrounded by a few faithful friends and many enemies. No wonder He was a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief.

The idea I picked up as a child that I could be “good” enough to keep everyone happy with me and to be happy all the time myself was false doctrine. I should worry if I am not speaking enough truth, inviting change and repentance enough to make a few waves.

I should worry if I'm too “popular.” I should worry if I am not feeling the sorrow of my own sins enough, or if I am not involved enough in the lives of others to feel sorrow for their sorrow and grief for their loss. Joy and sorrow are flip sides of the same coin. To have a rich life, I must embrace both.

To be a true disciple I can't always be nice. I can't always be happy. But I can carry the love of the Father and hope in Christ in my heart. What could be better than that?