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When I was a teenager, I competed in a track meet and made it to the finals. Events ran later than anticipated and my dad, who was serving as a bishop, had interviews scheduled for that evening. He went searching for a pay phone, but couldn’t get hold of everyone he needed to, so he called a family that lived close to the church and asked them to tape a note on the door explaining his absence. 

This is a small story, and one that loses some of its impact in the age of cell phones, but it was significant to me as a fifteen-year-old. My dad was very conscientious in his church work, but he had cancelled interviews to see me run. This incident spoke to my teenage heart, and it has continued to inform me through the years. 

Something struck me recently, though. I didn’t know the details of this story from my dad. It was my mom who later told me of the missed interviews. Mom was the narrator of much of what occurred in our home, and this was just one example of many. It was Mom’s voice that often provided the tone of the plot points in our family story. She was an optimistic narrator who expressed reverence for the characters involved even when addressing complexity.  

Much gets said about women’s emotional labor on social media. It’s argued that mothers carry the burden of the emotional needs of the family. As I look back on my parents’ marriage, I recognize that my more talkative mom did carry the responsibility of being the communication hub in our family, and by extension much of the emotional climate as well. But was it a burden for her? I hadn’t sensed that and she was a strong, confident woman who shared her thoughts. 

My dad was a reserved man, and he didn’t talk as much as my mom. This difference in my parents’ personalities underscored to me that the way in which a wife approaches her husband’s strengths and weaknesses has a profound effect on a family. The healthy dialogue my mom encouraged invited a synergy of their strengths.

In 2006, Elder James E. Faust counseled:

There are some voices in our society who would demean some of the attributes of masculinity. A few of these are women who mistakenly believe that they build their own feminine causes by tearing down the image of manhood. This has serious social overtones because a primary problem in the insecurity of sons and daughters can be the diminution of the role of the father image.

Let every mother understand that if she does anything to diminish her children’s father or the father’s image in the eyes of the children, it may injure and do irreparable damage to the self-worth and personal security of the children themselves. How infinitely more productive and satisfying it is for a woman to build up her husband rather than tear him down.

The dialogue in our homes affects all family members and we are shaped by the conversations we are exposed to and participate in. The Canadian philosopher, Ralph Heintzman, describes how each of us is born into an ongoing conversation that began before our birth and will continue after our death. It is in a conversational context that “we develop our sense of ourselves and of the world…and it is by joining the conversation that we become who we are.” 

But, Heintzman warns, we aren’t just individuals. We need to “give a full account of humanity…which reflects our necessary involvement in a greater whole.” Heintzman argues for language that addresses the relational nature of what it means to be human and provides balance for the language of self-assertion. The name that he gives to this is a “language of reverence.” He describes reverence as conveying “a human attitude of respect and deference for something larger or higher in priority than our own individual selves; something that commands our admiration and our loyalty, and may imply obligations or duties on our part.” “The virtues of self-assertion and the virtues of reverence are the two sides of the human paradox.” 

As members of The Church of Jesus Christ, we are often taught in ways that remind us of the virtues of reverence, but we are immersed in a culture that speaks the language of self-assertion. Sometimes we are tempted to look at the gospel primarily through the self-asserted lens and as a result, we distort prophetic counsel or push against it. This is particularly true of teachings about the relationship between men and women because the virtues of reverence are so necessary for bringing feminine and masculine strength together. When focusing only on the self, without the tempering virtues of reverence, men use their strength against women to get what they want, as I’ve written about previously, and women weaponize their innate abilities to gain leverage over men. The results are a tragic loss of potential and some of the greatest human suffering. As Elder Neal A. Maxwell taught, “In the work of the Kingdom, men and women are not without each other, but do not envy each other, lest by reversals and renunciations of role we make a wasteland of both womanhood and manhood.” 

I feel very secure as a woman. I know that women are recognized, valued and loved by the Lord. I feel confident that this is truth…I also recognize that this regard for womanhood that is held by the Lord is the model for all who seek to be like Him…for those who are His disciples… and for those who bear His priesthood and act in His name. I appreciate the noble men of the church for the many responsibilities that they shoulder; for the service and respect that they give to women.

Mom had a confident voice full of reverence, and she used it to strengthen relationships. There were distinct themes in Mom’s life, and an appreciation for how men and women complement one another, both in the family and in church service, was one of them. 

All those years ago on that track field, she had wanted me to know that Dad had cancelled his appointments to see me run, so I would understand how much he loved me. I’m so grateful for that.

The post The Reverent Conversation Between Men and Women appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

For decades, African American leaders and scholars have echoed Proverbs 17:22 that “a merry heart doeth good like a medicine.” Consider W.E.B. Du Bois, the first African American to earn a Ph.D. from Harvard and cofounder of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, who famously said, “I am especially glad of the divine gift of laughter: it has made the world human and lovable, despite all its pain and wrong.” Civil Rights hero Martin Luther King, Jr. is often quoted as having said, “It is cheerful to God when you rejoice or laugh from the bottom of your heart.” Indeed, African Americans have long used humor to cope with the ills of slavery and the unfairness of discriminatory practices. Research suggests that humor can fortify racial identity and cultivate optimism, hope, and resilience among Black Americans. Yet, humor seems to contribute even more than this.

We interviewed 46 Black married couples, nominated by their clergy as exemplary. Our American Families of Faith research team found that positive humor contributes to strong marriages and families in vital ways. In this article, we highlight three types of humor featured in exemplary Black families. 

Humor in Coping with Racism

Using humor to cope with racism (and other forms of stress) was common among the exemplary Black families we interviewed. Dean, a Catholic husband, said: 

Blatant racism happens to this day. We talk about it with each other. We use humor as a way to deal with it, as a coping mechanism. You can either cry or laugh. We know who we are, what we are, and Whose we are … [God’s].

Gwen, a quick‑witted and candid wife, explained with a twinkle in her eye how she turned the hurt of racism over to God and trusted that justice would someday be fulfilled. Glimpses of her humorous attitude were apparent:

[The] bottom line was we both knew that [changing the heart of a certain person at my work] was a job for God. … I just said to the Lord, “You just need to help me with this, because this person has a problem.” … So, I think the Lord just … whooped them up a little bit and then kicked them out! (Laughter) So, it was just one of those things where, yes, you will encounter [racism], and I know I will, until Jesus comes and gets me out of here. But … I can’t become bitter about it … because God is not going to put up with that. So, if they want to spend eternity in hell burning … because they won’t accept me, because my color is a little different than theirs, then that’s their problem. So, I have to just rest in the Lord on that one. 

Joelle, a Christian wife, also discussed racism:

To me, it’s not personal, it’s their ignorance. I have never doubted who I am or how important I am and how much I deserve to be on this earth. See, they’re wrong for misunderstanding, and I really believe that God loves me the most. (Laughter) 

Humor was a coping device for racism and other pain points, but humor was also used as a positive lever for navigating and strengthening the marriage relationship.

Humor in Marriage

After being prompted for advice they would give to other African American couples, Amber and Duane both talked about the importance of humor. Amber listed four tips for a successful marriage: communicate, be equally yoked, forgive, and keep a sense of humor. Duane concurred, that a “good sense of humor [is important] … for it to be a good marriage.”

Many participant couples shared humor-laced stories that highlighted how they used laughter to help their marriages flourish. Gwen said,

[I]f there’s something [a wife] needs to say to [her husband], … she should do so when things are calm. … Perhaps it’s a screen door that’s quite annoying because all he has to do is just repair it quickly with the screwdriver, something which she doesn’t know [how to do], and she tells him the first time about it, and he doesn’t do anything. Then, any other time she thinks about it, she needs to tell God, because God will whoop him up. (Laughter) … God can let him have it.

An African Methodist wife from Massachusetts named Joann said:

[L]et me just deal with God and wait for Him to change Gary over to my point of view, which is the correct point of view. …[B]ut usually when I’m waiting for God to change Gary, then [God] will be changing me! [God is] sneaky.  

Annie and her husband Al shared how humor and having fun were crucial to their marriage. 

Annie: You have to … make a decision to love and have fun. See, I was determined that this house was going to have some fun and that we were going to laugh and … be happy. Not only was I going to be happy, but we were going to be happy. Everyone was going to be happy. At the beginning, I had to [help] make Al be happy. ‘Cause you weren’t used to being happy. [Don’t] you think, [Al]?

Al: [No]. That’s why I married you. … I consciously made a decision [that] she’s going to bring joy into my life. [I decided], I can’t let her get away.

Al and Annie shared the following moment elsewhere during their interview:

Al: This woman is strong, resolute, focused … .  [S]piritually [and] physically, she’s been there. She’s been there. A great comfort. A great thing for a marriage.

Annie: Like old shoes. (Laughter)  

Al: [No], like a mighty mountain. A towering edifice —  a little … more grandiose than an old shoe. [To the interviewer:  [It ain’t all been] fairy-tale perfect, but we got 30 years in, … [and we’re] still smiling about it.”

Annie: [We are] still laughing, [and I am] still laughing at him. He cracks [me] up!

Several couples also shared warm sentiments while teasing each other. Joann, an African Methodist, described how their marriage has gotten better as time has gone on: “Things change; we are not the same people that we were when we were married. … [Actually], I think he’s gotten a lot better. [Thank heaven] (Laughter).” In like manner, Jefferson, a Christian husband from Louisiana shared, “We are each other’s friends. And, believe me, she advise[s] me every day, whether I want it or not. (Laughter)” Our participant couples repeatedly noted that they found joy in playfully teasing and sharing laughter with those they love. This reportedly held true in parenting as well as in marriage. 

Humor in Parenting

The use of humor among participants was not confined to the marriage relationship; many families also showed humor in their interactions with their children. Jefferson, a Christian father from Louisiana, shared the following story of his responsibilities as a father: 

We had three girls [in a row and] after we decided to have another child, I told my wife, “If this child is a boy, you don’t have anything to worry about. … I’ll do the … midnight feeding and change and wash the diapers.” Back then, we had cloth diapers. And sure enough, along came Shaun, and I had forgotten that I had made this promise. … But believe me, [Sierra] didn’t! She said, “‘Your baby is crying in there … . It’s time to feed [him] and change the diapers!”’ 

Jason, a Baptist father from Georgia, was asked if his children had influenced his religious involvement, he joked, “Some of them keep us on our knees (laughter)!”

Joann and Gary, who were also interviewed with their teenage daughter, Jasmine, shared a humorous moment when Gary discussed how his religious views and parenting were entwined:

Gary: [There] will be times when we’ll have a blow [up], and Jasmine will come up later and just say, ‘I’m sorry, Dad.’ And, probably not as often as I should, I’ll go down and tell her, ‘Yeah, I blew it.’ But … I always believe that God has created a wonderful child, and He may not yell at her, so He wants me to.

Jasmine (daughter): Yeah, right!

Joann (wife): I don’t think that’s in the Bible (Laughter).

Jasmine: No, that’s the “Gary” Revised Version.

Humor in Religion

Many families conveyed that parenting, humor, and (often) religion worked together for a healthy family life. Jason said: 

I believe Romans 8:28: “All things work together for good for those who love God and are called according to his purpose.” … Then, I’ve got to see that there is some good in this stress. So, I try to find the good in it, and [I ask], “Okay God, what are you trying to tell me in this?” More often than not, the simple message is, “You forgot, and you needed to be reminded.” [And I say], “‘Well, Lord, couldn’t you have been a little more subtle?”’ 

Joelle explained that she prayed about everything, even picking good oranges at the grocery store. She shared: 

My mother-in-law, before she passed, she used to laugh at me and say, “You know why God answers your prayers [so fast]? Just so he can have a moment of silence. Because you pray about everything!” (Laughter) 

James, whose beloved wife Betsy was struck by a drunk driver and was in a coma for several weeks, was able to express humor in the face of life’s pain. After the accident, Betsy “flatlined” and was resuscitated 13 times. Following this ordeal, which ended in Betsy’s miraculous improvement that eventually allowed her to return home in James’ care, he said, “At least I know my wife ain’t no cat, because a cat only has nine lives.” For nearly 19 years since the accident, James has provided full-service care for Betsy, who lost both of her legs in the accident. For James, humor and an indomitable will and faith have lifted heavy loads that self-pity could not budge.

We conclude with a report that seems to capture the ebullience, the faith, the passion, and the shared joy of life amongst our interviewees. Destiny, a Christian wife from Oregon, served up this gem eliciting explosive laughter and delight from her husband:

He is my lover and he’s an awesome lover. [Laughter] … And our children, we always said to them … “If you want to know what’s going on [in our bedroom], Mama and Daddy are just keeping Jesus happy.”

Bonding Humor as Healing Medicine

To date, our American Families of Faith research team has identified and published studies on numerous strengths in the exemplary Black families we have interviewed including faith, prayer, unity, egalitarianism, and serving others. The present study adds positive humor or “bonding humor” to the list. Some forms of humor (e.g., profane humor, ill-intentioned sarcasm) are explicitly incongruent with many religious beliefs and principles, but the exemplary couples who taught us present evidence that religion and positive humor can both play important and vital roles in building strong marriages and families. Hearkening back to Proverbs, these strong Black families echoed the value of that healing medicine to address life’s challenges in their words and lived experiences. Their examples offer much to contemplate.

The post The Power of Positive Humor in Strong African American Families appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

About 25 years ago, an LSU graduate class read Family Life in Black America, a nearly 400-page volume written by leading social scientists. Near the end of a class discussion, a Black student named Katrina Hopkins raised her hand and posed a piercing question: “Why is there not a single chapter in this book that talks about strong, marriage-based Black families like mine?” Katrina found no adequate response.

It has taken nearly 25 years, but the high-profile journal Marriage & Family Review recently dedicated an entire special issue to that topic. Nearly half of the pieces in this special issue are based on BYU’s American Families of Faith project, a 25-year study of the strengths and characteristics of a diverse group of highly religious spouses, with which the authors of this article are affiliated. Of the roughly 300 families in the American Families of Faith Project, 46 were Black. An emerging insight from the research was this: strong Black families were built on serving others. In this article, we share three insights on the service that contributes to strong Black marriages and families. 

Meeting Others’ Physical Needs

For the exemplary Black families we interviewed, service through physical care of others was central to the life and marriages these women and men had built together. 

Caring for the sick was one way of serving the physical needs of others. Jacquie, a Christian wife, described her husband’s physical care for her in reverent tones:

The most difficult thing was having my cancer diagnosis. And my husband … stepped up to the plate and took charge of me as I was going through my treatments and things—just made sure that my different needs were met… . [H]e took really good care of me.

Similarly, a mother named Keisha explained what her husband Wes’ care meant to her:

[Our] second child … was very difficult. I didn’t get any sleep, and she didn’t sleep through the night until she was one year old. And I wouldn’t have made it if it had not been for Wes, because he would get up in the middle of the night, he’d put her to sleep on his chest, and he’d bring her to me so I could nurse… . [He] was incredible. That was … one of the most difficult things I’ve ever been through … and he was right there.

Interestingly, virtually every exemplary Black family we interviewed had housed at least one non-biological child for weeks, months, or years—providing for them out of their own resources. This was so common that we dubbed these welcomed youth temporary children. When asked how many children each family had housed over the years, one family said the number was so high that they did not know. 

Serving the physical needs of in-laws was another way Black families served. A Christian wife named Jada shared the following:

I brought [my husband] Jacob to my mother. She, my mother, loved him like he was her own son. [Years later] my mother ended up in a nursing home. We ended up taking care of my mother for some years, and he helped me to take care of my mother—just like she was his mother… . There was one night we had to put my mother in the bed between us, [to keep her safe]. She had Alzheimer’s [so bad at the end and would wander off]. Now what husband does that? (laughter) … He really stuck by me in every way. 

Later in their interview, Jada said of Jacob, “If you get a husband that’s like that, then I think you … you did good.” Jada and Jacob were both entering a second marriage when they were wed, and they each brought their own children with them. Of this challenge, Jada said:

Jacob treats my children just like they’re his, and I do the same… . [Then] my sister died some years later, and … we raised her three children. She had a set of twins, a girl and a boy; they [were only] three years old [at the time].

Jada and Jacob ultimately raised six children together. At one point, the time came when the children were the ones serving the parents. Jada explained:

I think we had a lovely life … until these days came here recently where Jacob was paralyzed for … about three months from the waist down… . But through all that … all those six children that we raised, those children came to pay bills, [took care of the] grass to be cut. They did [all of it], they … took care of us. 

Indeed, our participants repeatedly conveyed that service to one person often perpetuates additional acts of service. 

Theme 2: Service through Emotional Support

Our research showed that Black families also offered service through emotional service. A Baptist husband named Anthony said: 

When I shake your hand—and we are talkin’ [especially about] young Black men [and] men in general—I shake your hand and I look you dead in the eye and I … say, ‘How you doin’?’ … Sometimes it don’t even get to that point, … [I] get there and [they] say, ‘Ah man, can I give you a hug? … I needed what you said.’ … Anytime you [have] got a man cryin’, they [are] not cryin’ out of weakness, they [are] cryin’ cause the enemy has pulled them from where they are supposed to be at and … [they’re] like, ‘I need help.’

Anthony later explained, “It’s just that sometimes when you say stuff to people and you really mean it—consistently, it makes a difference in people’s lives.” Anthony’s approach applied to his local and faith communities, but the importance of emotional service was frequently focused on family. 

Phil, an African Methodist father, was effusive and passionate when he said,

When you see your kids, hug ’em. … One time in the course of every [single] day, I tell my kids, ‘I love you,’ give ‘em a big hug … hold ‘em, let them know I care. I let them know, ‘I love you not because it’s just the thing to say, but because I DO; and … God loves you too.’ So even when we do go through little life struggles, it’s okay, because someone who loves them is going to be there through the good and the bad. 

Gwen, a Christian wife, also had someone to love and serve her during her struggles. Years after the event, Gwen vividly recalled how her husband Kordell helped her through a difficult pregnancy and delivery:

Kordell was so attentive and … caring about how I felt. [And then] while I was in labor, which was about 26 hours … [He’d say,] ‘I’m concerned about you. How are you feeling? How’s it going?’ … and he’d hold my hand for contractions and stuff, and I’m squeezing his hand [so hard that] he never thought he’d play the piano again! (laughter) … I really saw his real love for me, for who I was—his wife, not just the producer of his kids—which really strengthened our marriage a lot, ‘cause I thought, ‘He really cares.’ Well, this man really does love me, oh my gosh! (laughter)

Serving and caring, however, do not originate in a vacuum. At a different point in their interview, Kordell spontaneously reflected on the power of Gwen’s example of service. 

One thing about her is she’s very much into … sowing into other people’s lives anonymously. ‘Cause, often times, she will buy things for people, know what they really like, send it to them anonymously, and they’ll never know it was her. She’s just totally into that… She’s very consistently [serving others in] that way. 

We see that emotional care was an elevating experience not only when done for a spouse, but when such service was lovingly (and perhaps anonymously) done for someone else. 

Even so, service is often costly and rarely convenient. This begs the question: Why give so much? 

Our third and final theme sheds light on this question.

Theme 3: Service to Others is “Living Faith”

The most prominent theme relating to serving others in the data was the influence of faith on service. A husband named Leonard explained: 

If I go out there and see a poor man down, [I shouldn’t] look down on him—[instead, I must] pick him up. I don’t [care] how he stink[s]—God said, ‘I love them all, they all are my children.’ So, I can’t pass nobody; [the] Savior don’t pass me by. When I pass by somebody that needs help, I’m passing God.

Another couple, DeShaun and Jamilla, shared how their beliefs affected their view of service:

Jamilla: We should be good stewards of our time and our finances, that we give back [because of] what He has given and done for us. It’s good stewardship. Some people call it a sacrifice to give your time and your money, but … that’s part of being a believer.

DeShaun: All those things are His, anyway… . The time is His. The money is His. We’re just stewards… . I think that’s what helps us through hard times—because no matter what we lose … it’s not ours. 

The concept of divine stewardship—similar to what some faith traditions call consecration—was echoed by Candice and Shandrel, a Baptist couple, who said of their time and money:

Candice: I give time, but I don’t think [it’s] really mine; I think it’s …

Shandrel: It’s not actually our time.

Candice: It’s not our time… . You need to give … time so that you can be a contributor, and in giving your time, you learn that … you [also] give your finances. 

Shandrel: And then you [come] to love what you do.

Candice: You love what you do, you become a good steward.

Like Jamilla and DeShaun, Candice and Shandrel referenced sacred religious beliefs that influenced how they served, gave, and viewed resources. In addition to sacred beliefs, participation with a religious congregation was frequently mentioned as participants described how their faith informed their service to others. For many, participating in the faith community reportedly provided both individual and collective experiences that centered around serving others. A non-denominational Christian wife named Briana said:

The congregation is very important, and [they]’re my spiritual family… . When you hurt, I hurt. … We are [our] brother’s keeper—servants to one another. And that’s what the Lord says: We are servants to one another.

Looking Outward Together

In a passage from the Holy Bible—a book that the faithful Black women and men we interviewed cherished and frequently quoted in their interviews—King David’s final recorded question to his people was this: “Who then is willing to consecrate his service this day unto the Lord?” (1 Chronicles 29:5). 

We learn from these remarkable women and men that perhaps the deepest marital love does not consist of merely gazing at each other, but, as Antoine de Saint-Exupéry observed, “in looking outward together in the same direction” with eyes fixed on lifting sisters and brothers in the broader human family. The exemplary Black families that opened their homes to us and taught us revealed that consecrated service is one of the key ingredients of the secret sauce of a championship-level marriage. May we all benefit from this revelation.

The post The Service Ethic Behind Strong Black Families appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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This article is part of a four‑part series that draws from insights in our forthcoming book, Exemplary, Strong Black Marriages & Families (Routledge, in press).

My journey as a researcher of strong African American families of faith begins with a short story about my paternal grandmother. As a highly religious, praise-dancing, Bible-quoting woman of faith, my grandmother based her every thought and decision on a religious foundation. After being diagnosed with colon cancer, she faithfully tucked her prescriptions into her Bible in lieu of having the prescriptions filled. If she was here today, my grandmother would argue that she won that battle against cancer. She would emphasize that she was faithful to the end, and she trusted that God would have healed her, if it was His will for her to be healed on this Earth. However, for a 16-year-old kid who just wanted his grandmother, her death left me with more questions than answers. Unbeknownst to me at the time, her death would plant in me a seed to understand religion and its role in Black families.

One day, while sitting in Loren’s office during our weekly Monday meetings, and while expressing my frustration with my dissertation proposal, he revealed that he had something for me. Handing me a massive 4-inch binder with over 1,000 pages of narrative interview data, Loren asked me if I would like to read the interviews of the married, strong Black couples that he had researched for over a decade. I read all 1,000 pages of interviews over a single weekend. I was fascinated! The stories of these marriages were so rich, so detailed, and so sacred. I was amazed that it could even be considered “research.” The role of religion in building a strong marriage was central to each interview, and this further ignited my desire to understand religion in Black families. The Monday after I had been handed a binder too big to fit in my bookbag, I asked Loren if I could utilize the interviews on strong Black families to examine how religious coping had contributed to their strong marriages. He enthusiastically agreed. We have now been research partners for 13 years.

Despite my desire to study strong Black marriages, I was not necessarily surrounded by these types of relationships growing up. Neither of my grandmothers were in long-term marriages. In addition, my parents divorced around the time I graduated from high school. My parents had separated long before their divorce, so most of my memories of “family” came from looking at old pictures and seeing us all smiling together. Growing up, the best example I had of a strong marriage was a set of my great-grandparents, who were married for about 60 years before the death of my great grandfather, Paw-Paw. Paw-Paw was a minister in Southern Louisiana. He was deeply grounded in his faith, and he raised my highly-religious, praise-dancing, Bible-quoting grandmother that I mentioned earlier. I never thought much about my great-grandparents’ marriage, nor did I have a real opportunity to understand it because I only observed it as a child. However, I do know that they shared many similarities with the married, strong Black couples I have interviewed for my research. They saw their marriage as a sacred bond. As the grandchildren of slaves who were legally unable to marry, they were determined to honor their marital vows and build a family on faith and religious beliefs. I wish that I had been able to witness more of my great-grandparents’ marriage, but I am also thankful because I recognize the privilege of having a strong Black marriage in my family’s history.

When I ask Black couples who have been married for up to 60 years how they have done it, I am documenting their experiences for the many Black people who, like me, have rarely (or never) witnessed a strong Black marriage. I am documenting their experiences for the many Black couples who, like my wife Tasha and me, are still figuring out how to grow closer together each day. I am documenting their experiences for the many Black communities around the world that, like mine, are burdened by external stressors (such as financial strain, racism, and incarceration) that constantly threaten the stability of the Black family. Every moment, every interaction, and every opportunity has carried a purpose that has brought me exactly where I am, doing exactly what I am called to do at this moment, which is studying strong Black families and loving the journey. 

Never in my wildest dreams did I think that my conversations with Dr. Loren Marks and a weekend with 1,000 pages of narrative data would change my life. Yet, they have. Each time I speak about my research, Black communities and families share with me that there is a need—an unquenchable thirst—for stories of Black couples deeply grounded in faith and unwaveringly dedicated to marriage. I have been a witness and recorder of profoundly sacred family moments where husbands have poured out their hearts to their wives and wives have found comfort in the arms of their husbands. I have been invited to vow renewals, wedding anniversaries, and family dinners. A few months ago, I received word from a husband I had interviewed that his wife had recently died. He thought enough of our interview to let me know the news. For me, that was deeply powerful, and as I revisited their interview, I thanked God for allowing me to share in such a sacred experience. 

I am indebted to Public Square Magazine, as they will be running three additional articles during Black History Month to highlight our team’s work with Black families. I urge you to stay tuned as you hear directly from the voices of strong Black families this month. These articles will focus on: (1) serving others, (2) using faith to cope with racism, and (3) the power of positive humor. As you engage these stories, I invite you not simply to read them, but to receive them. Allow the lived faith of these families to speak to you, to teach you, and to bless you and those around you. These stories are not ours to own, only to share. They are reminders that Black love grounded in faith can be profoundly powerful— capable of overcoming even the highest hurdles attempting to impede familial stability. May their faith strengthen yours, and may we continue to go forward as one people, as brothers and sisters, just as civil rights leader John Lewis urged us to do. 

The post Studying Strong Black Marriages Changed My Own appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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Marriage in America is in trouble. Rates of new marriages are at an all-time low, and record numbers of Americans have never been married. Many young people fear they will either never marry or, if they do, the marriage will end in divorce. Is there anything they can do to improve their chances of marital success? 

Thankfully, the answer is yes. Recent research from BYU’s Wheatley Institute shows that several practices within each spouse’s control contribute to stable marriages. I emphasize two of these: being fully committed to your spouse and participating in religious activities together.

Religion reinforces commitment in marriage by inspiring greater accountability. Many religions teach that marriage is more than just a civil agreement between two people—it includes a promise to God and each other to maintain the union. The more married couples prioritize each other and God, the more likely they are to stay married. When challenges arise, religious couples tend to believe they are accountable to God, not just their spouse. This elevated perspective encourages them to consider reconciliation over divorce. 

Religion also reinforces commitment by promoting honesty. Many religions charge their members to be upstanding individuals who are earnest and trustworthy. Honesty helps couples maintain complete fidelity to each other—helping them stay committed to each other and avoid divorce. 

Religion also offers quality recreational couple time through activities like scripture study, church attendance, and community outreach that reinforce the couple’s shared religious identity. These activities, offered by a shared religion, encourage healthier interactions between the couple and greater internalization of their shared religious beliefs. 

Being devoutly religious can also be protective against divorce. A 14-year Harvard University study reveals that couples who regularly attend religious services together are 50% less likely to get divorced. The Wheatley Institute has likewise shown that shared church attendance is linked to greater stability in a marriage. In turn, these religious couples report feeling greater meaning and purpose in their lives, as well as higher satisfaction and happiness in their marriage. Religion benefits relational commitment even further when shared religious practices are also observed in the home. 

Highly committed religious individuals are also less likely to cohabit before marriage, according to the 2020 Busby and Dollahite study. Contrary to popular belief, cohabitation does not lead to improved marital outcomes. Rather, cohabitation is a mark of lower commitment in a relationship. Cohabitation says, “I like you, but I still want to be able to walk out.” Couples who cohabit are more likely to dissolve the relationship before marriage or ultimately end their marriage in divorce, according to a 2022 study. Cohabitation fortifies a lack of commitment, as many cohabiting couples continually push marriage off further or indefinitely. 

Of course, not all religious people have successful marriages, and commitment takes great intention to maintain in the long run. But with so much concern about marriage among young people, it’s important to emphasize what is within their control. Through religion, couples can find greater strength in their marriage that fortifies their commitment to each other. While the risk of divorce can never be completely eliminated, religion paves the way for a lasting marriage with high commitment.

The post The “Me-First” Ethic Is Breaking Marriages Before They Begin appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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Years ago, as I was running errands with my minivan full of little children, I checked my rearview mirror. I saw the traffic behind me, but I also saw the sweet little faces of my kids. For some reason, that quick glance—which was such a simple thing on an ordinary day—resulted in an overwhelming sensation coming over me. It was so distinct that I still remember the exact location where it occurred. It’s difficult to describe, but the best I can say is that it was a rush of gratitude. I felt gratitude for the law of chastity—reserving sexual relations for marriage—and for those who had taught it to me. Also, gratitude for my younger self who had trusted in it so I could experience the good fruits it bore as I married and had children.

Louise Perry

In an earlier article, I wrote about society’s need for righteous fathers, and I relied heavily on the book The Case Against the Sexual Revolution, which is a lesson from Louise Perry. Perry argues that women and children have paid a disproportionate price in the fallout of crumbling marriage norms over the last several decades. While working at a rape crisis center in her twenties, she began questioning the modern secular norms she had previously absorbed. Eventually, she became convinced that Christian sexual ethics work, although she was not persuaded by Christianity’s supernatural claims. 

I found Perry’s writing compelling and have continued to follow her online. Over the last several months, I’ve noticed, as have others, that there’s been a transformation in Perry’s relationship to Christianity. It’s moved beyond a sociological appreciation. In an interview earlier this year, she said:

“I kind of think of myself as an agnostic Christian. I go to church. Some weeks I believe and some weeks I don’t but one of the things that my husband and I have committed to do—he’s in the same boat as me—is, we are so convinced that it’s sociologically true and we would so like it to be supernaturally true, that we want to give our children the best chance possible of believing both truths and the way to do that, I think, is to expose them to Christians.”

And then, in a more recent interview, she said: 

“And … since writing the book, I have become Christian and have become much … more willing to make these arguments in theological terms. One of the reasons that I ended up becoming Christian is because I realized if it were supernaturally true, you would expect it to be sociologically true. And observing quite how sociologically true it is was very persuasive to me.”

From Hesitation to Witness

It’s interesting to note that Perry married her husband in 2017 and published her book in 2022 between the births of her two sons in 2021 and 2024. She credits her time at the crisis center for initially opening her up to Christian sexual ethics, but the process of becoming a Christian coincided with her early years of motherhood. Perry said she wanted to give her children “the best chance.” Her children were a motivation for her—a common human experience that many of us have as we take on the responsibility of precious souls.

I’ve thought a great deal about Perry’s experience of being drawn to Christian sexual ethics as a young secular thinker, and it has caused me introspection. How many times have I remained quiet about gospel teachings about marriage and sexuality because I assumed they were the least popular aspects of my faith? How often have I jumped to hasty conclusions about who may or may not be receptive to the Latter-day Saint doctrine of the family? 

We live in a confusing world, and many norms that we once took for granted are being challenged. In Quebec, three men recently adopted a three-year-old girl in a case that is described as a first in Canada. In May 2025, a journal article put out by the American Sociological Association argued that childhood sexual innocence is a “colonial fiction” and that “childhood pleasure is indispensable for an inclusive sociology.” Marriage and birth rates are falling throughout the world. These are just a few of the indicators that point to an obscuring of the divine vision of the family—and Latter-day Saints aren’t the only ones noticing. Many people are feeling the divine tug of truth about the family unit and are participating in conversations about how to safeguard it. 

There will continue to be opposition, and likely even attempts to silence defenders of the family. Still, as Latter-day Saints, we can—and should—join in efforts that foster the flourishing of families. And in the process, we will be strengthened by others, like Louise Perry. They offer fresh outlooks that can inspire us to be more enthusiastic about the eternal truths about family structure that we may have taken for granted. 

The post The Secular Feminist Who Tested Christian Ethics—and Stayed appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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Fathers and mothers do not provide exactly the same type of parenting; they have complementary strengths and responsibilities. Sometimes children need experiences best provided by a father, such as adventure or disciplined intervention. Sometimes they need experiences best provided by a mother, such as sustained, careful nurturing. Latter-day Saints believe we have Heavenly Parents—Heavenly Father and Heavenly Mother—and that many mortal patterns also hold true in heaven. Why not parental gender roles?

Brigham Young taught, “As far as we can compare eternal things with earthly things that lie within the scope of our understanding, so far we can understand them.” In that spirit, I propose a parallel: mortality as a ‘dad mode’ adventure, where the Father naturally has a more salient role. Additionally, we can understand Heavenly Mother by considering life before and after an adventure with Dad. 

So what is “dad mode?”

In our family, the normal potty training routine involves loving explanation and nurturing guidance, primarily from mom. For one of our kids, this persistently failed. Switching to ‘dad mode’ solved the problem—Dad physically restrained the child on the potty until the task was completed in the proper location. There was wailing and gnashing of teeth during the process, but the child learned by experience that the assigned task was possible and was praised for completing it. From then on, potty training was largely successful — the child quickly forgot the ordeal, but retained the skill. 

The brief ‘dad mode’ intervention looked and sounded painful. Mom would not normally pursue this kind of approach, but she was aware of it, agreed it was necessary, and did not bail the kid out. Appealing to mom during this process would not have been productive. Dad was running the show, and Mom supported his approach. Mom handled most of the teaching before and after this intervention, though not during it.

Taking kids backpacking offers another “dad mode” example. The itinerary is set by Dad; the kids aren’t really competent to judge such things. Sometimes they get to keep hiking, even on sore feet. Dad distributes the pack weight and typically does not reassign it; doing so would set a poor precedent and weaken the kids. So the kids struggle. They get stronger. They learn something about themselves. And then mom welcomes everyone back with a feast, having stayed home, cared for the baby, and done a thousand other things. Afterward, even the kid who cried for a mile talks unprompted about what a great experience the trip was. 

This also has gospel parallels. Heavenly Father is obviously prepared to send people off on literal wilderness adventures: consider Adam, Abraham, Moses, the brother of Jared, Lehi, Nephi, Ammon, Elijah, and Christ, as well as later community treks such as Zion’s Camp and the pioneer migrations. Children in the Church sing that we can all be pioneers, and youth go on pioneer trek reenactments. And Eve deserves praise for starting all of the adventures. Embarking on adventures is in our spiritual DNA. 

As Paul writes, “We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” 

The “dad mode” wilderness adventure analogy can go further. Consider: what level of guidance and communication is appropriate for a young man on a wilderness adventure? He needs the tools and information to succeed, yet he learns most in the context of a legitimate challenge, which might not be best served by easy or excessive communication. 

Taken together, these patterns suggest that Heavenly Father presides over a high-stakes, sometimes grueling ‘dad-mode’ adventure. We agreed to go to the camp, and we’re in for it now! Heavenly Mother approves, yet seems to leave the management of this enterprise primarily in the Father’s hands. Then what is She doing? Presumably, everything else: managing and enjoying the whole domestic enterprise of heaven, and helping children in every other phase of their development. 

A common caricature reduces motherhood to giving birth, and perhaps keeping children alive until they can be placed in the care of a business and/or government. Maybe there’s a Mother’s Day card involved, once a year, until social media convinces the kid that mom is “toxic.” Did I mention the pain and exhaustion?

If you combine this diminished view of motherhood with the obvious fact that Heavenly Mother is not front-and-center here on Adventure Camp Earth, you might imagine that eternal motherhood is a frustratingly limited role, primarily centered on giving birth. But mortality is only a tiny fraction of our existence, and this caricature of motherhood is only a tiny fraction of what it should be. True motherhood engages with every aspect of life, and continues through the child’s whole life—and to heaven.

I suspect heavenly motherhood is more like being a grandmother than a mother of a newborn. It will presumably involve interacting with offspring at a wide variety of developmental stages (including premortal and postmortal), and taking joy in their milestones. We will have plenty of time—just as God has time to hear every prayer and count every sparrow—and money will be no object. It sounds similar to an ideal retirement, with no aging and a perfected body.

And all of this happens in a place—a home. The hymn says, “Home can be a heaven on earth,” and I say heaven is centered on perfected homes. Domesticity is hard to capture—it isn’t just the cookies in the oven, or the smile when you come in, or the familiar beauty of the decorations. It isn’t just catching up, or playing a game, or conspiring against the world. It’s not just the feeling of loving welcome, the feeling of the Holy Spirit, the feeling of coming home to a perfect refuge. But there’s some mixture of all these things, and more, that makes a home heavenly, or makes a heavenly home. And the best homes have a mother at their core.

Joseph Smith taught that “that same sociality which exists among us here will exist among us [in heaven], only it will be coupled with eternal glory, which glory we do not now enjoy.” So we should expect that our grandmother’s house will be a heavenly institution—arguably the heavenly institution. 

And while blissful domesticity reigns above, here we are on a “dad mode” adventure. It isn’t quite a representative picture of what came before or what comes after; it involves less mom and more hard knocks. But it’s temporary, and it’s good for us. And soon enough, our Mother will lovingly welcome us home.

The post Heavenly Parents and ‘Dad Mode’ Mortality: Earth Life as Adventure Camp appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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For a field devoted to mending relationships, the numbers are uncomfortable: multiple datasets suggest therapists divorce more than the general population. 

As our culture increasingly relies on therapeutic tools to heal our minds and mend our relationships, we would do well to be curious about why this surprising trend exists.

Multiple data sources indicate that therapists, counselors, and similar professionals have above-average divorce rates. One analysis of 449 occupations found that categories like “therapists (all other),” “counselors,” and “psychologists” reported divorce rates around 12-40% higher than the average. 

More recent data echo this pattern. For example, a 2022 American Community Survey analysis revealed that clinical and counseling psychologists had the highest divorce prevalence among high-income professions.

Therapists are highly educated and reasonably well paid, factors that protect most of the population against divorce. Why does that not work for them? Why should a group that we turn to to help us with our relationships be so bad at them?

These questions tend to be speculative by nature. Little research analyzes root causes. One role an editorialist can take is to look at available data and use their best reasoning to suggest potential avenues for researchers to explore in trying to answer the next batch of questions. 

In that spirit, here are some of my ideas about why therapists may get divorced at much higher rates than the general population, both to help understand the phenomenon and to provide potential warnings for the many people going into this field and hoping to keep their marriages alive.

Emotional Burnout and Compassion Fatigue

The work of a therapist is intense: hour after hour inside other people’s panic, grief, and rupture. Over time, that drains the tank. Psychology has a name for it—burnout; in clinical circles, compassion fatigue. Whatever the label, the symptoms are the same: exhaustion, detachment, a thinning capacity for empathy. 

Home can often absorb the spillover. When you spend the day offering careful presence to strangers, your family too easily gets what’s left. Patience shortens; small irritations loom. Spouses feel a subtle withdrawal—not hostility, just a steady turning inward that starves intimacy.

Confidentiality compounds the strain. In many jobs, you can debrief a hard day over dinner. Therapists can’t. The heaviest stories stay locked inside, which means the person most able to comfort you is cut off from the very thing that would explain your mood. One partner feels shut out; the other feels alone.

Compassion fatigue is real, and if we want to understand why therapists have such high divorce rates, we can’t just skip ahead to the ideological reasons; we need to understand that there are likely lifestyle reasons.  It’s a structural risk of the work: chronic exposure to distress, emotional labor as a day job, and necessary secrecy can make home the place where compassion runs thinnest. Marriages do not thrive on leftovers.

But this doesn’t explain why therapists get divorced more than other caregiver roles, like day care workers or physicians, or other confidential roles like attorneys or defense employees.

Blurring of Boundaries: Taking the “Therapist” Role Home

Home is not a clinic. Yet the habits that make a clinician effective—slowing a conversation, analyzing motives, keeping emotion in check—can misfire with a spouse. Partners often report feeling assessed rather than engaged. The dynamic tilts: one becomes the knower; the other, the case.

You can’t be your own therapist. Blind spots are built in, and the therapeutic lens—so valuable at work—can breed a misplaced confidence at home. Formulations start to feel like verdicts. The give-and-take a marriage requires disappears, as any compromise feels to the therapist like an abandonment of professional principles.

Layer onto that a professional life organized around boundaries and containment. After a day holding other people’s pain without spilling your own, dropping your guard with a spouse can feel unnatural. If the therapist’s stance remains—calm, controlled, always managing—the relationship registers distance rather than safety. One partner feels examined; the other feels unseen. Over time, that role confusion becomes a steady headwind against intimacy.

Personal Struggles and the “Wounded Healer”

Therapists are human first. Many come to the work by way of their own personal pain—their own or someone they love. The old “wounded healer” insight endures: we often offer what we ourselves have needed. Surveys of clinicians and trainees regularly find elevated rates of depression and anxiety. 

Perhaps therapists get divorced at higher rates not because the work of therapy makes them more likely to divorce, but the personality and trials of people drawn to therapy include personal demons that also negatively impact their personal lives. 

This can intersect with compassion fatigue and blurred boundaries because cases that resonate with a therapist’s own experience can reverberate for hours or even days. While about 10% of the general population has sought out therapy, as many as 84% of therapists seek out their own therapy. 

This isn’t destiny, of course. Many clinicians do the personal work, seek supervision, and build sturdy marriages. But the wounded‑healer pathway, the pull toward caretaking, and the temptation to over‑interpret create structural risks. Naming them—candidly and charitably—helps couples set better boundaries, seek help early, and keep the marriage a place of reciprocity rather than repair.

High Expectations and the Critical Eye

By training, therapists know the taxonomy of “healthy” relationships—attachment styles, red flags, best‑practice communication. Useful in the clinic, that knowledge can harden into a scorecard at home. Ordinary friction begins to read like pathology; quirks look like patterns. The standard rises, tolerance falls. Marital life gets graded.

The pattern can invert, too. Professional empathy easily becomes professional rationalization—explaining away a partner’s lapses as trauma, stress, or insecure attachment. Problems are tolerated longer than they should be until the frame flips: this is “unhealthy.” Once a marriage is reclassified that way, the therapeutic script offers a ready exit—boundaries, self‑protection, discharge. The same counsel therapists give clients is applied to themselves, with the same clinical confidence.

Layer on perfectionism. Relationship experts feel pressure to model what they teach. When normal rough patches appear, the gap between ideal and reality can read as failure—of the marriage, of the partner, or of the self. Instead of lowering expectations or seeking help early, the cleaner solution is sometimes to declare the fit unsound. The theory remains intact; the relationship is the variable removed.

In sum, the therapeutic posture—optimization, diagnosis, and a low tolerance for “unhealthy”—can make therapists exacting partners and impatient reformers. Knowledge that should invite patience and humility can, misapplied, produce hyper‑critique or delayed but decisive exits. If divorce rates among therapists are indeed higher, that looks less like a paradox than the predictable byproduct of a professional lens carried home.

The Therapeutic WorldView

Therapy at its best honors real goods—agency, empathy, honesty, companionship. 

As a worldview, though, its defaults can migrate from clinic to kitchen table: affirmation as first principle, Rogerian unconditional positive regard flattened into unconditional self‑regard, and expressive individualism cast as the highest good—the center of gravity shifts from we to me.

In that frame, ordinary marital friction is reinterpreted through an individual‑first lens: Are my needs validated? Is this relationship serving my growth? Missteps become “misalignment.” Discomfort is pathologized as “unsafe.” The partner is evaluated for fit with a personal arc of self‑actualization rather than joined in a covenant that presumes mutual sacrifice. What helps a client articulate needs in session can, at home, license a steady escalation of standards and a shrinking tolerance for imperfection.

This is not to say these clinical approaches and worldviews have no place. But when you apply them on a constant basis to what would otherwise be a healthy relationship, it can end up creating the sickness itself. Perhaps it acts like an emetic—if you swallowed something harmful, it can be useful to induce vomiting. But if you were healthy before, now you’re just vomiting. 

It’s a profound irony that those who guide others through relationship struggles face more such troubles themselves. 

While no single explanation fits all cases, I hope that one or more of the above suggestions can lead to better answers in what is happening, and help those who rely on therapists in their relationships to have a better understanding of the limitations of the help they are receiving.

Why do therapists get divorced at such high rates? We’ve explored several likely contributors: the emotional toll of therapeutic work that can leave little energy for one’s spouse, the difficulty of leaving the therapist role at the office, and personal histories or traits (the “wounded healer” phenomenon) that can complicate one’s own marriage. Added to that are the high standards and insights that can make therapists both hyper-aware of relationship flaws and perhaps less willing to tolerate them, and a professional-cultural openness to ending unhappy unions, which, combined with economic independence, makes divorce a more accessible choice.

For readers and experts alike, this discussion opens the door for further reflection and research. If those who know the most about relationships are still struggling, what does that tell us? Perhaps it’s a humbling reminder that knowledge alone isn’t enough—it takes continued effort, self-care, and sometimes external support to apply it. It also highlights the importance of addressing therapist burnout and mental well-being, not just for their clients’ sake but for their own families. Ultimately, understanding why therapists have higher divorce rates isn’t about pointing fingers; it’s about learning how we can better support the helpers, so that the wisdom they share with others can more readily nurture their own closest relationships. By shedding light on these possible reasons, we hope to invite deeper conversation—among professionals, within training programs, and among spouses—about what it takes to sustain a healthy marriage in the context of such an emotionally demanding career.

The post The Divorce Epidemic Among the People We Pay to Prevent Divorce appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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As mental health therapy becomes an increasingly prominent feature of contemporary life, it becomes more important to stop seeing the practice as a monolith and recognize it as a bundle of distinct practices, philosophies, and goals. Sometimes these different approaches even directly contradict one another. 

Latter-day Saints understand the importance of caring for our mental health and often utilize mental health practitioners. But that doesn’t mean every approach is worth trying or comports with Christian principles.

Differentiation therapy, however, conflicts with the principles of Christianity broadly and the Restored Gospel specifically. In addition, despite the modality’s current popularity, there is little evidence that this approach works.  

What is Differentiation Therapy?

Differentiation therapy is a psychotherapeutic model advanced by David Schnarch. It is also sometimes called “crucible therapy.”

Schnarch posits that the purpose of our relationships is individual growth, and that the way to heal relationships is by focusing on our own needs, identity, and preferences separate from our partner. 

Schnarch first published his theories in the early 1990s. He built on the ideas of one of the early practitioners of family therapy, Murray Bowen. Bowen pioneered systemic therapy, a therapeutic approach that recognizes how our struggles are often found within the complex system of relationships in a family. Bowen articulated “self-differentiation,” the ability to recognize and define yourself as an individual within that system, as one of the items in tension in the family system. 

Schnarch focused and emphasized self-differentiation, recontextualizing this idea within the affective domain of marital intimacy, asserting that the path to greater eroticism, emotional fulfillment, and personal development lies not in interdependent vulnerability but in cultivating emotional autonomy and self-definition. He contends that genuine intimacy emerges when each spouse remains firmly rooted in a differentiated self, experiencing anxiety within the relationship that spurs individual growth, and resisting the urge to seek validation from the other. Schnarch’s framework is built on the maxim that relational maturity is contingent on one’s ability to “hold onto oneself,” particularly in the face of emotional intensity.

As Paul teaches in 1 Thessalonians 5:21, “Prove all things, hold fast that which is good.” Differentiation therapy doesn’t hold up to those standards.

For Christian or Latter-day Saint engagement, any therapeutic model must be assessed through two interdependent criteria: its empirical reliability and its theological coherence. Specifically, a model must conform to a theology that affirms the covenantal, sacramental, and grace-dependent character of human relationships. 

On both empirical and theological grounds, this model raises serious concerns. 

Similarities to the Gospel

Before diving into why differentiation marriage therapy doesn’t adhere to Christian theology, let’s first grant that there is much about the ideology that can appeal to those in our tradition. 

Crucible Therapy is so named because the idea is for us to improve ourselves like metal does in a crucible. This metaphor is familiar to Latter-day Saints, who have heard it consistently in General Conference addresses for decades.

We want to grow, which sometimes requires us to do (or endure) difficult things. Joseph Smith even described his time in Liberty Jail as a “crucible.”

Personal growth is a key component of the Latter-day Saint conception of life and the eternities, as we rely on the grace of Jesus Christ to become more like Him.  

And we view marriage as a key pathway to achieving that personal growth. Elder Richard G. Scott described the overarching theme of the “eternal blessings of marriage” as “trying to be like Jesus.”

Even the concept of self-differentiation itself is not opposed to the gospel. After all, in President Russell M. Nelson’s 2008 formulation, salvation is “an individual matter.” In each Latter-day Saint ordinance and covenant made from the first at baptism to the temple endowment, individuals participate independently.

The problem with differentiation therapy is not the ingredients, but rather the emphasis, proportions, and timing.

The Sacramental View of Marriage

Scripture and tradition present a vision of marriage not as a mere partnership but as a covenantal and ontological union. Genesis 2:24 and Mark 10:8 declare, “the two shall become one flesh,” articulating a unity that transcends sentiment or legal arrangement. This union is sacramental, reflecting the mystery of divine communion and typifying the nuptial relationship between Christ and the Church. 

Within Latter-day Saint theology, this union also echoes the oneness of the Godhead and extends to eternal dimensions. Eternal marriage is not a symbolic ideal but a sacred ordinance that enables joint participation in the divine nature. In this view, marital unity is achieved through consecrated covenant keeping and divine grace.

President Gordon B. Hinckley famously warned that “selfishness is the great destroyer of happy family life.” Christian ethics consistently portray the self not as autonomous but relationally constituted, and pride as the origin of spiritual alienation. Love entails the displacement of self-centeredness. Schnarch’s valorization of emotional self-sufficiency is in tension with Christ’s self-emptying love.

Schnarch does attempt to articulate an ideal of oneness near the end of his second book. He writes, “Holding onto yourself and becoming more differentiated actually leads to the loss of the self you’ve been holding onto.” In this, he articulates a goal shared by Christians. But Schnarch gets the order precisely backward. In teaching the Twelve Apostles, Jesus said, “He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.”

The Rev. Lauren R.E. Larkin, an Episcopalian, notes that Schnarch’s model implies what I might describe as a form of psychological soteriology in which transformation is self-engineered and internally sourced. In contrast, Christian soteriology comes from the sacrifice of the self in our relationship with Christ, and that happy marriage comes from applying the same principle. 

Specific Theological and Pastoral Concerns

Schnarch’s philosophy is hardly the only one to be at odds with the principles of Christianity. But it warrants attention both because of its growth among those providing therapy for Latter-day Saints and the specific negative behavioral outcomes it can produce. 

Reframing of Selfishness as Growth

In Schnarch’s paradigm, behaviors that prioritize the self over marital unity are reframed as developmental milestones. This conceptual move risks legitimizing patterns of emotional disengagement or moral abdication that Scripture identifies as destructive.

Devaluation of Mutual Dependence

Christian marriage presupposes mutual reliance and covenantal solidarity. Emotional interdependence is not pathological but redemptive. By pathologizing need and elevating stoicism, Crucible Therapy undermines the logic and purpose of marriage within the Christian life.

Therapeutic Destabilization of the Vulnerable

The deliberate intensification of anxiety may compound harm in couples already contending with trauma or asymmetry. Without a framework of mercy, discernment, and accountability, this method risks exacerbating wounds rather than fostering healing.

Psychological Work as Identity Formation

Crucible Therapy reflects and clinically adopts a broader cultural trend: the belief that personal identity is best discovered through solitary psychological excavation. For Christians, our truest identity is revealed not in looking inward but in looking upward—to God—and outward—to others.

Undermining the Redemptive Power of Weakness

Differentiation therapy often frames strength in a relationship as the ability to withstand emotional storms alone. But Latter-day Saint theology teaches that God’s power is made perfect in our weakness, and our spouses as a “help-meet” for those challenges. Schnarch ignores the redemptive capacity of dependence. 

Flattening the Eternal Narrative of Marriage

Perhaps most fundamentally, differentiation therapy assumes marriage is primarily a context for individual growth and erotic renewal. But for Latter-day Saints, marriage is the divine setting for exaltation. While it shares the desire for marriage to be a conduit for individual growth, the Latter-day Saint conception of marriage has a project much more lofty and eternal in mind. 

Secular therapies can’t be expected to fully integrate all gospel understanding. Still, we can avoid the ones whose explicit goals and practices set us toward different goals than those we are pursuing.

Toward a Christological Integration of Differentiation and Unity

The question of how to balance differentiation and unity—how to maintain personal identity while becoming “one” with another—is not merely a psychological puzzle but a theological one. For Christians, the life of Jesus Christ provides the supreme model for how distinctiveness and relational communion are held in perfect harmony. He is not only the exemplar of love but the embodiment of divine identity lived in full self-giving.

Throughout the New Testament, Christ’s actions and teachings demonstrate a perfect union of individual authority and relational surrender. In John 5:30, He declares, “I can of mine own self do nothing: as I hear, I judge … because I seek not mine own will, but the will of the Father which hath sent me.” Here we see a Savior who is fully self-aware and fully self-sacrificing. His divine agency is never wielded for isolation but always for communion—first with His Father, and then with those He came to redeem.

The pre-mortal Christ likewise demonstrates an integrated identity in His dealings with Israel. In Exodus 3, He reveals Himself as “I AM,” an assertion of sovereign selfhood. Yet He repeatedly binds Himself in covenant to His people, dwelling with them, feeding them, and pleading for their return. His identity is never diluted, but His divine selfhood is always offered for relationship.

In 3 Nephi, the resurrected Lord descends among the Nephites. What does He do? He weeps. He heals. He prays for their unity, invoking the language of divine indwelling: “that they may be one, as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee” (3 Nephi 19:23). Here again, the goal is not emotional distance but sanctified closeness. Christ does not ask us to become strong by ourselves. He invites us to be made whole in Him. At no point is differentiation set against unity. Rather, disciples are expected to retain their agency and consecrate it—to grow, yes, but to grow together.

From this Christological lens, differentiation is not a prerequisite for unity, nor is unity a threat to identity. Instead, selfhood and love are co-eternal truths, fulfilled in covenant. The Savior does not command us to “hold onto ourselves” but to take up our cross. He does not sever our personhood; He sanctifies it in communion.

In Jesus Christ’s life, death, and resurrection, we see the perfect integration of individuality and unity. 

Recommendations for Moving Forward

For Latter-day Saints looking at what kinds of marriage therapy are appropriate for them and their circumstances, I have a few pieces of advice. 

Not all therapists and therapeutic practices are created equal. As mental health resources are often in short supply, it can be tempting to visit the first person with a license and an opening. But it is worth being discerning, especially in a venue where we are opening up our hearts and minds to someone. 

While “Latter-day Saint therapists” can be helpful (if unnecessary) in that journey, be careful to understand whether your therapist merely understands the vocabulary of Latter-day Saints or is committed to helping you maintain your worldview.

Preserve your moral and spiritual lexicon. Grace is not a synonym for internal resilience. Sin is not a developmental stage we grow out of. 

Based on my experience, observations, and analysis, my advice is for Latter-day Saints to exercise considerable caution before engagin in differentiation therapy or working with clinicians who practice it. There are approaches that better align with the gospel of Jesus Christ, and which the evidence shows work better.

David Schnarch’s Crucible/Differentiation Marriage Therapy presents a psychologically articulate, but ultimately inadequate framework for relational transformation. Its emphasis on self-validation, emotional independence, and internal differentiation diverges from the best practices evidence shows work and the covenantal, grace-saturated vision of Christian marriage.

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In recent years, it’s become increasingly common to hear Latter-day Saints acknowledge—sometimes with real sorrow—that family relationships are getting more complicated. My family, like many others, is fractured by a variety of pressures, some relational, some religious, some political. We frankly don’t talk much anymore. For all intents and purposes, we’ve scattered. And yet, through it all, I remain active in my faith, trying to live and teach the gospel while navigating family dynamics that are often more painful than edifying.

I know I’m not alone. Pew Research has noted the sharp rise in both political polarization and religious disaffiliation in American life over the past 20 years. According to 2023 data from PRRI, about 27 percent of Americans now claim no religious affiliation at all. Gallup reported in 2021 that church membership in the U.S. fell below 50 percent for the first time since they began tracking it. Among young adults, those numbers are even more stark. Add to that a steady climb in family estrangement, and it becomes clear that the pressures on faith-filled families are immense.

Of course, this isn’t just an external cultural problem. Within the Church, the old social glue that once held extended families together—mission service, marriage, and weekly sacrament meeting attendance—no longer binds with the same universality it once did. Gospel living has become, in some sense, more intentional and more home-centered and church-supported. Faithful Latter-day Saints today are often raising children, ministering, and serving in callings alongside people they love who no longer believe. Sometimes those people are in their own homes.

So, how can someone in a situation like mine live the gospel without retreating into either isolation or bitterness? How can we pursue a life of conviction that is still open-hearted and gracious in divided circumstances?

First, it helps to acknowledge the emotional toll that fractured families take. A great deal of writing about faith crises focuses on those who leave. But those who stay often feel displaced in a different way. Many live with grief, confusion, or quiet shame, unsure of what they did wrong. It is not uncommon to feel spiritually alone, even when active in the Church. For some, a kind of survivor’s guilt creeps in. For others, fear about saying the wrong thing leads to chronic anxiety. These are real struggles that deserve compassion and care.

Second, we need a framework for understanding these divisions—one that recognizes not only personal pain, but deeper moral and epistemological divergence. While some separations arise from trauma or offense, many reflect fundamentally different assumptions about truth, authority, and what it means to live a meaningful life. As the apostle Paul asked, “What fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? and what communion hath light with darkness?” (2 Corinthians 6:14). Paul’s point is not to vilify ex-believers, but to emphasize that meaningful communion depends on shared foundations. Without them, even sincere efforts at connections can falter.

This divergence doesn’t remain abstract. It plays out in families, friendships, and communities. In our time, moral disagreement is often mistaken for personal rejection. Thus, when a believing parent expresses concern about a child’s choices, it is often interpreted not as loving guidance but as judgment or control. Likewise, when an ex-member critiques church teachings, faithful relatives may hear it as betrayal rather than sincere conviction. This cycle of hurt and misinterpretation creates a relational impasse.

Here, the principle of charity becomes essential—not the therapeutic empathy of modern discourse, but the scriptural virtue of love grounded in truth. Charity “rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth” (1 Corinthians 13:6). It refuses to lie about what is right and wrong, but also refuses to give up on people. It allows us to keep our hearts open without compromising our convictions. In practice, this means listening without needing to agree, showing up without needing to fix, and loving without needing to control. It means resisting the urge to “win” conversations instead of making space for relationships to breathe. Latter-day Saint thinkers like Terryl Givens and Ralph Hancock offer helpful resources here. Givens describes faith as a chosen, relational trust rather than mere intellectual assent, and Hancock emphasizes the sacred role of moral authority in a fragmented age. Together, these perspectives help us understand not only why these divisions run so deep but also how we might navigate them with both clarity and compassion.

But knowing these things doesn’t automatically fix family estrangement. Faithfulness does not guarantee relational harmony. In fact, Christ Himself warned that loyalty to the kingdom might set “a man at variance against his father” and “the daughter against her mother” (Matthew 10:35). These words are difficult, but they remind us that division is sometimes the price of discipleship.

The point is not to force unity where it cannot exist. Rather, it is to live with integrity, trusting that the Lord sees the efforts we make and honors the covenants we keep. The family is not only central to the Plan of Salvation—it is also the arena in which we often experience our greatest mortal trials. But these trials, painful as they are, can shape us into more faithful disciples.

If I could speak to a younger version of myself, or to anyone just beginning to navigate these kinds of family fractures, I would say this: it’s okay to feel disoriented. It’s okay to grieve. You’re not failing because your family doesn’t look like the ideal. You’re not weak for feeling torn between loyalty to your faith and love for those who no longer share it. 

You may find yourself in situations where you don’t know what to say. A sibling makes a snide comment about the Church in a social media post. A parent quietly withdraws at the mere mention of the Church. A child rolls their eyes when you call for prayer. These moments sting — not just because of what’s said, but because of what’s lost: the ease, the shared language, and the sense of spiritual intimacy that once came so naturally. 

Practicing compassionate orthodoxy in these moments doesn’t mean pretending those differences don’t matter. It means choosing to stay soft-hearted anyway. It might look like biting your tongue when you want to defend the Church, not out of fear, but out of love. It might mean sending a birthday text even when you haven’t spoken in months. It might mean praying for someone who thinks prayer is meaningless. It might mean setting a boundary, not to punish, but to protect your peace.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed, remember: you’re not alone. Many faithful Saints are walking this same road. And while the path may be narrow, it’s not empty. The Savior walks with you. He knows what it is to be misunderstood, to be rejected, and to love without being loved in return. And He will strengthen you to love as He loves—with truth, tenderness, and hope. 

I’ve come to think of my own situation not as a personal failure, but as part of the cost of discipleship in a fractured world. I hope for healing, but I do not expect perfection. I pray for reunion, but I try not to demand it. Instead, I seek to live in a way that honors both truth and kinship, conviction and kindness. This is what I mean by compassionate orthodoxy—not a softening of doctrine, but a deepening of love rooted in fidelity to Christ.

The post When Loved Ones Leave the Church: Holding to Faith in a Fractured Family appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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In 2023, the Utah Legislature expanded access to full-day kindergarten in Utah by passing HB 477. Kelsey, a mother of four whose two older children had already completed half-day kindergarten, didn’t initially think this amendment was necessary or important. Half-day kindergarten had worked just fine for Kelsey, who only works part-time and lives close to her children’s school. She enjoyed the extra time with her kids and had honestly felt a bit self-righteous about her willingness to absorb the minor inconveniences of half-day kindergarten. However, after talking with her daughter’s kindergarten teacher and some friends, she realized that full-day kindergarten was extremely beneficial for many families.

In The Family: A Proclamation to the World, church leaders have asked members and “responsible citizens and officers of government everywhere to promote those measures designed to maintain and strengthen the family as the fundamental unit of society” (Ensign, Nov. 1995, 102).  Kelsey’s experience with HB 477 was a turning point for her with regard to what constitutes good policy. She realized that her personal experiences may not always be reliable metrics for what will help families and societies, and the best measures we can support are often those that broadly strengthen families while also allowing for individual preferences and circumstances. Our shared values as members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, particularly those outlined in the Family Proclamation, are also vital in our quest to understand and support good family policy. 

As Latter-day Saint values and behaviors have become outliers in Western culture, Latter-day Saints’ views on the family and the standards that protect it are increasingly held in derision. As a result, people with power seek to change laws and cultural norms to favor policies that harm rather than help the traditional family. In general, the press holds the same liberal views. Recent articles about Utah’s employment pattern bemoan the fact that so many Utah women work part-time compared to women in other states—with 36.4% of Utah women working part-time, compared to 28.7% nationally—and ignore the possibility that women with families might desire part-time work. Many “progressive” policies actively demean wifehood, motherhood, “old-fashioned” sexual standards, and even the value of men and fatherhood. 

Conservative policies not based on science or common sense also endanger women and families. Immigration policies that separate parents and children create both immediate and generational family trauma. Conflating contraception access with abortion or morality can restrict healthy family planning and ignores evidence that when contraception is widely available, elective abortions decrease. An ectopic pregnancy is a death sentence for both the mother and child—a medical emergency which many emergency doctors are concerned about treating in states with radically conservative abortion laws. Additionally, portraying the demise of the family as simply the result of a failing culture or poor individual choices ignores the economic difficulties that contribute to familial instability. 

In her book The Two-Parent Privilege, Melissa Kearney demonstrates that “marriage is the most reliable institution for delivering a high level of resources and long-term stability for children.” Yet 40% of American children currently do not live with married parents and are part of a demographic shift that primarily affects the most economically disadvantaged Americans. Marriage is now an economic metric in the United States, and college education has become one of the biggest precursors for marriage. While Kearney argues that marriage is vital to the stability and success of children, she also notes that “helping children [in America] will require … addressing the widespread economic and social challenges that hold back millions of adults—challenges including joblessness, mass incarceration, untreated mental illness, and the opioid epidemic, among others.”

Add to this the increasing pressure on youth, as Gen Z is more depressed than any generation before them. This is not only due to social media. The liberal sexual agenda pursued in Western countries introduces the idea that children deserve and can manage sexual autonomy, while children are also increasingly exposed to pornography. Currently, the UN is considering a treaty to combat cybercrimes that would actually allow child pornography if it is created by AI (though this would still be considered illegal in the US). This shocking allowance and unwillingness of the global community to fight or condemn porn is terrifying.

Additionally, according to Stanford sociology professor Michael Rosenfeld in Bloomberg, many young adults in the U.S. have given up on marriage and family, and have become even slower to develop “the ability to form and sustain romantic relationships.” These shifts—paired with dissatisfaction with dating apps, now one of the most common ways to meet someone—have disrupted the world of dating. As Pew Research Center found in 2020, “Fully half of single adults say they are not currently looking for a relationship or dates,” which creates an opportunity for companies like Replika, which offers lonely adults a relationship with an “AI companion who cares.”

Failing Societies Fail Families

While families in the United States face significant cultural and economic struggles, family disintegration is a global concern. Families from war-torn or economically struggling countries face particularly overwhelming challenges. Kelsey’s friend Luz* is a member of the Church from Honduras, a country where almost 80% of the population lives in extreme poverty and where gang violence and government corruption are rampant. Luz never knew her birth father, and after her stepfather abandoned her mother and her three younger half-brothers, Luz had to provide for her family as her mother slipped deeper into alcoholism and other destructive behaviors. Luz became a mother herself in her early twenties, feeling that it was the “only way to leave home and have a better future.” Her then-partner had completed his bachelor’s degree, something “that amazed me because I thought it was something very distant for me to achieve … [so] I felt that I had to settle for giving someone children who had achieved what I hadn’t.” Unfortunately, Luz’s relationship turned abusive, and while her ex still provides occasional child support, Luz is now a single mother.

Luz’s situation is not unique in Honduras. In Adrienne Pine’s book, Working Hard, Drinking Hard, she explores the high violence and poverty rates in Honduras. She notes that in recent decades, “Honduran women are increasingly taking on the role of primary wage earners of the household, yet they are still expected to fulfill ‘traditional roles, including child-rearing. In the face of a very changed family … [this] has led many Hondurans to argue that the ‘breakdown’ of the family, rather than the social and economic forces behind this transformation, is responsible for the growth of gangs” (33).

Pine’s conclusion demonstrates what we are missing as a global community when we dismiss the importance of the family to society. While Pine rightfully acknowledges the complex social and economic factors that Honduran families face, both things can be true: there are social and economic forces driving the destabilization of families, and the breakdown of the family also contributes to this societal instability. We do ourselves no favors by overlooking the family’s importance in society or when we oversimplify complex problems by ignoring the social and economic concerns that affect families. As Luz thoughtfully observes, 

… [the suffering in Honduras] is heartbreaking to witness, and there’s a deep sense of impotence in seeing people—especially children—suffer the consequences of something they had no control over. When the family unit weakens, people look for belonging and security elsewhere. While there are many factors contributing to societal unrest, I personally believe that strong, stable families provide a foundation that can prevent a lot of these issues … [and] strengthening families requires both structural changes and individual commitments. 

A Spiritual Problem

So, what are the structural changes and individual commitments we should support? What measures and policies effectively strengthen families? Currently, all OECD countries except Israel face population implosion because of declining childbirth. Many of these countries have been trying to pay women to have more babies, but even the most generous policies are not working. In Catherine Ruth Pakaluk’s book, Hannah’s Children: The Women Quietly Defying the Birth Dearth, she examines why children are undervalued or not prioritized even in countries with welcoming family and childcare policies. She demonstrates that, despite popular notions that favorable government policies can bring about increased births, births and child-rearing need to be informed by beliefs that bearing children has greater purpose or worth: “Cash incentives and tax relief won’t persuade people to give up their lives [to have children]. People will do that for God, for their families, and for their future children.” While government policies supporting families are positive, people will only have children if they believe children and life are worthwhile—even divinely sanctioned. To enact policies that support the family, hearts must change to see the ultimate, shining value of families as the anchor of society.

Members of the Church would do well to bravely (it will take bravery!) lift the Proclamation as a standard for the world. At the very least, we can become involved in community efforts to strengthen the family with the Proclamation as our guiding light. We can help support church initiatives that strengthen families within the Church, as well as the Church’s global initiatives that look at broader economic challenges families face. We should also look for ways to research and support measures proffered by other governments and organizations. As Elder Oaks has reminded us, “Despite all that our Church does directly, most humanitarian service to the children of God worldwide is carried out by persons and organizations having no formal connection with our Church. And as Orson F. Whitney observed: “God is using more than one people for the accomplishment of his great and marvelous work. … It is too vast, too arduous, for any one people. As members of the restored Church, we need to be more aware and more appreciative of the service of others.” We also need to motivate ourselves and others in the Church to participate broadly in the community and be open to dialogue and problem-solving that transcend differences in religion, political party, and even personal family circumstances. 

Kelsey and her husband are monthly donors to The Fistula Foundation, an organization that helps women in the poorest areas of the world recover from devastating childbirth injuries that leave women incontinent, isolated, and sometimes infertile. Gale has taken many young adults into her home over the years as they have gone through rough patches, helping them mature into potential responsible spouses and parents themselves. As her family lived abroad for years, they encountered people who cited them as the only happy family they had ever met. These are small things, but they are still lights in a world where the family is struggling. What can you do?

In Doctrine and Covenants, Section 101:42–63, the Lord presents us with a parable, wherein the Lord of the vineyard instructs his workers to build a tower and set a watchman in place to protect the vineyard. Since it’s a time of peace, the workers never get around to finishing the tower, and the enemy breaks through the hedge and destroys the vineyard. Bemoaning the situation, the Lord of the vineyard says, “… the watchman upon the tower would have seen the enemy while he was yet afar off; and then ye could have made ready and kept the enemy from breaking down the hedge thereof, and saved my vineyard from the hands of the destroyer.” 

As Latter-day Saints, we have a vineyard, a hedge, a tower, and a watchman, while the world is becoming increasingly self-involved and blind. The world is inviting the destroyer into our countries, our states, our communities, our homes, and our families. The enemy is no longer afar off but is breaching the wall. Our personal abilities or means may be small, but we can all find ways to support measures and policies that strengthen the family.

The post The New Front Line in the Fight for the Family appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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One of the most significant aspects of parenting, and most daunting, is the role we take in shaping who our children grow up to be. We model beliefs and behavior. The associations they build from what they observe and what they experience alongside their parents necessarily leave a lasting impact. In a culture where religious identity is in decline, it’s important, then, for parents to understand that the faith story they live is the one their children will one day tell. Our faith tradition offers rich opportunities for parents to transmit religious identity regardless of what our own faith journey has been.

As the son of a convert, my father’s faith journey has often been something I’ve considered while I reflect on my own. This has been especially true as I recently entered fatherhood myself.

My father attended church when he was a child, until his parents divorced. No reason was given for their sudden non-attendance; it was just another outcome of their shifting lives. When he started dating my mother in college, and observed her family ending the day together with scripture study and prayer, it stood out to him as a “good practice.” 

By the time I came along, the third of five children, the gospel as taught by our church had saturated my father so completely that even today I cannot imagine one without the other. 

Growing up, I knew the gospel because I knew my parents. This mirrored relationship between my parents and the gospel they raised me in extended into my teenage years. I wrestled with my faith like any adolescent wrestles with their parents. Was I too sheltered? Was I confined by circumstance into being religious? Was my devotion to the Church just about finding comfort in familiarity? Like any teenager, what I really longed for was personal identity.

It’s been a decade since I returned from my mission. Today, my faith is deeply personal. It has evolved in ways I could not have expected. Because of this, I’m sensitive about respecting others in their own expressions and observances. If I’m being honest, the personal nature of my own testimony has made it hard for me to know how to teach the gospel as a matter of principle, the way I had as a missionary.

While my son will be a third-generation member on my side, his mother is “pioneer stock.” He will have more cultural and generational support than anyone in my family. Neither of my parents served missions. Both of his did. He has two sets of grandparents who have entire lifetimes marked by gospel living. While I’ve always reflected on the way my father’s conversion inevitably led to my own, I wonder what about my conversion will impact him. 

I worry how, within the context of my shortcomings, I will raise him to understand the gospel, so that he can truly choose it for himself. I don’t want him to merely grow up grounded in a denomination or steeped in a theology of my making. I want him to grow into a relationship with his Savior, trusting everything else will flow from there. I know that is the only way it will become something that is truly his. Just as my father’s faith is his, and mine my own.

But more important than that is the living testimony that believing parents pass on to their children on where they can turn to grow a relationship with Christ.

When we read of Lehi’s own account of his dream, we read that the first thing that happens to him after being filled with joy by the fruit of the Savior’s love is that he “began to be desirous that [his] family should partake of it also; for [he] knew that it was desirable above all other fruit.” I don’t know how successful I will be as a parent. But I am grateful to have examples, in the scriptures and in life, who show me that the measure of a successful parent is the Savior’s love we reflect back to our children. If we show them, and invite them, then as Lehi’s son Jacob later taught—they too can be free to choose.

The post The Faith of Our Fathers: More Than Tradition appeared first on Public Square Magazine.