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Across parts one and two, one theme becomes unavoidable: risk factors tend to cluster. When instability, isolation, weak supervision, emotional distress, substance use, and risky sexual behavior overlap, a child’s vulnerability rises—while the protective “friction” that would normally stop a perpetrator often falls away.

That matters because prevention can’t stay limited to awareness campaigns alone. Many communities have improved at recognizing warning signs and responding faster, but major gaps remain in proactively reducing the deeper, underlying conditions that make abuse more likely in the first place.

The good news is that these risk patterns have practical opposites. If vulnerability increases in predictable ways, then protection can also be strengthened in predictable ways—through stable relationships, attentive caregiving, layered community oversight, reduced drug and alcohol exposure, emotional healing resources, and institutions (including faith communities) that pair meaning and belonging with humility, transparency, and safeguards.

What follows is a prevention framework drawn directly from the patterns in the research: 10 life patterns that increase protection, with concrete steps families and communities can take to reduce opportunity for offenders and increase safety for children.

Multiple, overlapping risk factors

When less-educated parents who are no longer married and use alcohol are raising children in a home that struggles to find sufficient material resources, lacks healthy community connections and doesn’t have  any higher purpose or meaning, those children are, statistically speaking, more likely to be sexually abused, according to studies across the world.

It’s helpful to also acknowledge some overall limitations in research—for instance, research in countries outside the United States is more limited. There is also less examination in the research of both protective factors and abused boys, compared with risk factors and abused girls. 

Yet what we learn from such analyses can be hugely beneficial. Even one risk factor can have consequences, with cumulative risk emerging as these factors add up.  In one 2020 study looking at three separate “key risk indicators”—exposure to parental domestic violence, parental addiction, parental mental illness—the authors observed that “levels of child sexual abuse for women in 2010 were 28.7 percent for those experiencing all three, and 2.1 percent for women with no risk indicators. Those with two or more risk factors had between five- and eightfold higher odds of child sexual abuse.”

For instance, a younger child who has experienced significant prior trauma, is largely isolated, in a setting of high stress (poverty) and high conflict (divorce), enduring emotional disorder or substance abuse, and with limited educational background, is much more likely to experience abuse, including sexual victimization—compared with a child facing none of those environmental conditions. 

Likewise, an adult or older teen who has experienced significant prior trauma, is largely detached from other relationships, enduring immense current stress (financially or otherwise) and high surrounding conflict, enduring emotional disorder or substance abuse, and with limited educational background is more likely to perpetrate abuse on others—including sexual violence, compared with an adult or older teen with none of those conditions. 

Overall, we can see that various lifestyle patterns constitute a substantial risk burden for victimization. “Health-related risk-taking behaviors are associated with the likelihood of being a victim of violence” research on adolescent lifestyle risk and violent victimization shows, from data on students in South Carolina who reported engaging in risky lifestyles like drug and alcohol abuse, and sexual promiscuity and faced increased risks of being victims of dating violence. They call this a “lifestyles theory explanation of violent victimization in adolescent dating relationships.”

In summary, children will have very different levels of vulnerability to sexual violence depending on the atmospheres and family/community lifestyles they are being raised in. These clear patterns in the risk-factor literature can thus act as powerful signals to guide more effective prevention strategies. Based on our review, we outline below what that might look like.

10 life patterns that increase protection 

A tremendous amount of effort over recent decades has gone to the prevention of abuse in all its forms, including the most tragic of all: child sexual abuse. Much of that has centered around awareness raising efforts—such as teaching children the difference between good and bad touch and helping adults become more vigilant to watch for signs of abuse.

Despite significant benefits from these and other encouraging efforts, the CDC highlights “critical gaps” in the U.S. response, with “few effective evidence-based strategies available to proactively protect children from child sexual abuse.”

This U.S. agency then emphasizes our need to “increase our understanding of risk and protective factors for child sexual abuse perpetration and victimization”—which can guide, in the words of Norwegian researchers, more “targeted prevention strategies for children and adolescents.”

In addition to identifying abuse already taking place and intervening more effectively to stop it, expanded awareness could supercharge efforts to root out the underlying conditions that make abuse more likely—“ensuring that all children have safe, stable, nurturing relationships and environments,” as the CDC states.

That’s why I believe these patterns above can be so helpful—informing more proactive steps to further protect children. Notice how many researchers have been calling for the same thing: 

• “Efforts to decrease child sexual abuse need to be based on research ,” Zych & Marín-López emphasize, calling for “more accessible evidence regarding the breadth of risk and protective factors and effectiveness of interventions to reduce child sexual abuse needs to be provided to policymakers.” 
• “ Novel data on perpetrators of the violence and the risk factors for experiencing violence ,” Pankowiak et al. state, “provides further context to inform safeguarding strategies.” 
• “By identifying and understanding the systemic factors which enable child sexual abuse ,” Dodd et al. write, in the context of sports, “more effective prevention and policy interventions can be developed to make sport safer for children.” 
• “Knowledge of the risk and protective factors ,” Owusu-Addo et al. agree, “can guide and inform the development” of better prevention programs. 
• This aligns with other efforts to develop “a prediction model to identify those at greatest risk ”—specifically aiming to “identify youths at greatest risk before they are harmed.” 

These patterns point to straightforward implications that are often overlooked in public discourse.. Based on our review, children raised by educated, happily married in homes with adequate financial support, nourishing community connections and a sincere and healthy religious commitment, those children are far less likely to get caught up in drugs and alcohol and are less likely to be victimized sexually. 

More specifically, here are 10 steps that could protect children based on these findings:

1. Helping lift families and communities out of poverty
2. Expanding educational opportunities for mothers, fathers and children
3. Helping ensure more children are raised within a healthy marriage and continue into adulthood with happy family ties
4. Strengthening exhausted parents’ ability to nurture their children and create strong bonds
5. Surrounding children and families with layers of trustworthy social support
6. Proactively encouraging more lasting emotional healing
7. Encouraging teens to delay sexual behavior until marriage
8. Teaching empathy, compassion and self-control to those struggling with aggression and anger
9. Helping prevent youth drinking and support adults in finding freedom
10. Embedding children in a healthy spiritual/religious atmosphere

(A broader summary of these concrete steps is available in the Deseret News — with my full analysis of all 215 sexual abuse studies available at my Substack.) As reflected here, some of the best ways to ensure children experience reduced risk for sexual exploitation may be to find ways to encourage an upbringing embedded within:

• Healthy marriages with parents willing to nurture lasting attachments to their children—with back-up support from multiple protective layers of trustworthy community connections.
• An atmosphere where education is prioritized and there are adequate resources to provide for the financial needs of the family.
• An environment where teens are encouraged to avoid drugs and alcohol, delay sexual behavior until marriage and learn how to control their anger and impulses.
• An atmosphere where youth and adults are provided with support for deeper healing when current emotional struggles exist or previous abuse has taken place.
• An environment where faith, spirituality and religious community provide children and parents with higher purpose and deeper meaning to life.

According to the available research literature, a child raised in this context will be significantly less likely to be victimized sexually (and by other forms of abuse). By contrast, a child raised within an atmosphere of conflicted or broken families, neglectful parents, poor education, financial deficits, spiritual detachment, limited healing resources, substance abuse, sexual promiscuity, community acceptance of aggression and out of control anger, faces a higher risk.

Special thanks to Laura Whitney, Odessa Taylor, Jacob Orse, and Brigham Powelson for helping to gather and sift through published studies, and to Diana Gourley for helping edit the review. In addition to recent support from Deseret News, the author expresses thanks to Public Square Magazine for initial funding for the project. 

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If you were to ask Jesus today, “Are you a Republican or a Democrat?” He might simply kneel, draw something in the dust, and tell a story instead. It was never His way to choose sides on worldly matters like we do. He saw through every label, every flag, every slogan. To Him, the question was never Who do you support? But rather, whom do you love?

Today, politics has become a new form of faith. It shapes our values, friendships, and even our sense of identity. We divide the world into saints and sinners, heroes and villains, based on who supports our side. We often begin with our political tribe and then justify it with faith.

Christ invites the reverse: start with love, truth, mercy, and justice — then observe what’s left. This book begins with a simple but uncomfortable question: How does your political party stack up against one thing and one thing only? Love.

That’s not a trick question, and it’s not meant to shame anyone. It’s an invitation to hold our politics up to the light of Christ’s teachings — the ones about mercy, humility, forgiveness, and service. To see what survives that light, and what doesn’t.

Does your party honor the dignity of others? Reduce suffering or fear? Does it build reconciliation or division?

Would Jesus recognize love in it?

This isn’t sentimental romantic love. The love Jesus practiced was fierce, demanding, and often politically inconvenient. It challenged both Rome’s empire and Israel’s hierarchy. It refused to hate the oppressor, yet also refused to excuse injustice. It spoke truth to power and washed the feet of enemies.

So if love is the standard by which Christ measured everything, then love must also be the measure by which we examine our own public life: our policies, our priorities, our party platforms.

When Jesus spoke of loving your neighbor as yourself, he wasn’t just suggesting a simple slogan—he was establishing a revolutionary way for people to connect that goes beyond party lines and policy fights. Yet today, we find ourselves more divided than ever, with each side claiming moral superiority while often ignoring the core message of love that Christ emphasized.

Consider the immigration debate. Rather than viewing it through the lens of partisan talking points, what if we examined it through Christ’s parable of the Good Samaritan? The story doesn’t ask us to determine the legal status of the injured man or debate border security policies. Instead, it challenges us to see the humanity in those who are different from ourselves and to respond with compassion.

This is not to suggest that complex political issues have simple solutions. They almost never do. Instead, it’s about approaching these challenges with the right heart and perspective. Christ’s emphasis on love wasn’t just about personal relationships—it was about transforming how we approach every aspect of human society, including governance.

What would our political landscape look like if we truly filtered our policy preferences through the lens of Christ’s love? How might our approach to partisan politics shift if we prioritized His teachings over party loyalty?

The Heart Before the Flag: Christ’s Radical Political Vision

Jesus—supporter and champion of good; protector of the weak; defender of life, justice, and liberty; leader of compassion and Savior for all. He is our blueprint.

Jesus was a radical and a revolutionary in the truest sense—not because He sought to overthrow governments, but because He sought to overturn hearts. He confronted hypocrisy with truth, power with humility, and hatred with love. When He entered the temple and overturned the tables of the money changers (Matthew 21:12–13), He was declaring that greed and exploitation have no place in the house of God.

His message was not about allegiance to a nation or party: it was about allegiance to truth, mercy, and the intrinsic worth of every person.

In our modern political landscape, where outrage often replaces empathy and loyalty to tribe surpasses loyalty to truth, the teachings of Jesus remain as revolutionary as ever. He reminds us that power is meant for service, not self-preservation; that greatness is measured not by control, but by compassion. Love, as He lived it, is not weak or naive—it is the most disruptive force imaginable.

It breaks down divisions, exposes hypocrisy, and reorders our priorities toward justice and mercy. When we apply His radical vision to our politics, we are invited to see opponents not as enemies to be defeated, but as neighbors to be loved. Only then can we begin to heal what power alone cannot fix.

Jesus spoke more about love than any other commandment because love is the engine of transformation. Love can make you think, see, and live differently. It is not abstract sentiment, but the most powerful political and spiritual force on earth.

Love doesn’t just tell you; love shows you. Love breaks down the limits of mind and heart, calling us to see even our enemies as children of God. In that radical reordering of priorities, Christ offered not just salvation for the soul, but a model for how humanity might truly live in justice and peace.

“Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.”- 1 John 4:8

A Kingdom Not of This World: Beyond Red and Blue —The Way of the Cross

The Way of the Cross in modern life means carrying the weight of reconciliation. It means standing in places of tension—between rich and poor, conservative and progressive, believer and skeptic—and refusing to walk away.

To bear the cross is to absorb hostility without returning it, and to love without condition, even when that love is mocked as weakness. Public witness no longer looks like shouting from platforms; it looks like quiet courage in workplaces, schools, local communities – and online.

The Quiet Work of Repentance

How can we begin to undue the division that has been manufactured by politicians over not just decades, but hundreds of years? Political idolatry is not undone by argument, but by repentance — a turning of the heart. That repentance might look like listening before judging, or admitting that a policy we once defended actually causes harm. Or refusing to share a post that fuels contempt instead of compassion.

Repentance is not weakness; it’s freedom. And it releases us from the emotional leash of the outrage machine. It lets love, not loyalty, guide our conscience.

The Politics of the Heart

In today’s marketplace of political ideas, where power and influence are traded like precious commodities, Jesus’s revolutionary message of love stands as a stark contradiction to conventional wisdom. His teachings weren’t just spiritual insights but radical political statements that challenged the very foundation of how human beings organize themselves and relate to one another.

Today, this message remains just as disruptive. Imagine if our political conversations started not with who deserves to win, but with who most needs to be heard. Imagine if policy debates were guided by empathy instead of ideology. The teachings of Christ challenge both the left and the right, progressives and conservatives alike, not to adopt “Christian politics,” but to judge every platform and policy by the standard of love. In doing so, we rediscover that politics at its best is not a fight for dominance, but an act of service—a reflection of divine love in the public square.

The Seduction of Certainty

Every party claims moral high ground. Each says it stands for justice, freedom, or compassion. But certainty can become its own idol. When we believe our side is always right, we stop listening, stop learning, and stop loving.

The prophets spoke truth even to their own kings. Nathan confronted David. Amos challenged Israel’s elite. John the Baptist rebuked Herod. Love demands that same courage today: the willingness to hold our own side accountable.

In our age, courage rarely looks like standing before a throne; more often, it looks like standing in a comment section. It’s resisting the easy applause of our tribe and speaking words that make both sides uncomfortable, or refusing to share the meme that distorts the truth, even when it flatters our position. It’s saying, “That’s not right,” when our own side crosses a moral line.

Jesus also reminds us that before we criticize another political party, movement, or leader, we must first confront the faults within our own. Accountability begins with humility: the humility to admit that no political tribe owns virtue, that truth cannot be reduced to a platform, and that love sometimes requires dissent.

“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye?You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will seeclearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.” – Matthew 7:3–5

This teaching reminds us to examine ourselves before judging others — to practice self-awareness and humility.

Silence in the face of deceit is not peacekeeping; it is complicity. True love tells the truth, even when it costs us our sense of belonging. To love truth more than victory is to worship God more than ideology. 

In the end, Christ will not ask how we voted, but how we loved each other. He will not count our party victories, but our acts of mercy. And if our politics have hardened us to compassion, it may not be our country that needs revival — it may be our hearts.

Ask yourself: Do I equate faithfulness with winning, or with serving? In my community, what would it look like to lead from the cross instead of the throne?

If my party demands allegiance, does it also demand compassion? Do its policies reflect service, humility, and care for the least — or do they mirror Caesar’s hunger for dominance?

Does my loyalty to this party make me more loving toward those who disagree with me? Do I defend truth, even when it costs my side a win? Am I more excited to see mercy triumph than to see my party prevail?

Love has never needed permission to begin. It only needs participants. Every act of kindness is a policy of grace; every word of truth is a campaign for peace.

So go into your world—not to conquer, but to care. Not to shout, but to shine. And remember: the Kingdom is already among us, growing wherever love dares to act.

That is the true revolution.

That is the politics of Christ.

That is the politics of love.

That is how love reigns.

That is how heaven transforms history.

 

 

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“Change does not roll in on the wheels of inevitability, but comes through continuous struggle.” —Martin Luther King Jr.

Sometimes the week’s sermons foreshadow a struggle that will soon knock at your door.

My wife, Missy, and I learned this recently in a peacemaking crisis with a neighbor, which came less than 24 hours after we heard two sermons on peacemaking. I’ll call our neighbor Alice (not her real name). She’s a short, stocky, 50-something woman who walks with a waddle. She loves animals. Between November and March, Alice feeds the crows pounds of peanuts. The result is a noisy murder of birds and a roof and yard (ours) littered with shells that clog our gutters.

This past spring, as Missy cleaned leaves and peanut shells from our curb, she encountered Alice. It was a beautiful sunny day after another grueling winter. At one point, the conversation turned to what Missy was doing. My wife kindly and calmly asked Alice if she would consider feeding the crows something else because of the mess from the peanut shells. No promise was made, and life went on.

Then, about six months later, on the Monday morning before Thanksgiving, Alice knocked on our door as we were busy preparing to leave for the airport.

“Did you put this on my door?” she asked. 

She showed us a piece of light blue paper with these words: “PLEASE STOP FEEDING PEANUTS TO THE CROWS!!!!!”

“No,” I responded.

“Did someone else in your house put it out? I know you don’t like the peanuts,” Alice said, her face and voice making clear she was not convinced by my denial.

“No, we didn’t put that sign out,” Missy said.

“Are you lying to me?” Alice asked.

“No,” I said.

I was terse because there was no time to talk. Like those birds, we had to catch a flight.

And with that, Alice shrugged her shoulders in frustration, turned around, and stomped down our steps. In her mind, we were guilty.

The next Monday morning, we were back home. A crow was on our skylight, pecking away at something. I worried the bird might chip the window. As I often do, I opened our front door to raise my hands and shew away the murder congregating on the street.

Alice saw this through her window and was steamed. She stormed over, knocked on the door, and asked to speak with me.

“I was on the phone with my daughter just a minute ago when I saw you open your door and wave the crows away,” Alice said, her voice on edge and full of spite. “I know it was you who put the sign on my door. You are sign people. You have a no soliciting sign and that other one asking people to not leave dog poop on their lawn. Why can’t we just talk about this and not behave like we’re in middle school? What is your problem with the crows?”

This was quickly turning into a Shakespearean tragedy, with Alice misinterpreting our every word and move.

I explained calmly that the crows’ pecking wakes us up and clogs our gutters. I could have added that their repeated noises bothers one of our daughters, who has sensory issues. And there’s also the potential for their pecking to ruin our roof.

Alice then accused Missy of yelling at her last spring when she asked her to consider feeding the crows something else. This is where things went off the rails. Missy never yells at anything. The accusation blindsided both of us. From there, voices grew louder, Missy was in tears, and a primal instinct drove me to tell Alice she needed to leave. I grabbed her by the arm and led her out the door. I pushed her past the threshold because she would not go willingly.

As I closed the door, she lobbed one last verbal grenade.

“The crows are the nicest neighbors I have,” Alice said. “You are so mean!”

I immediately wondered—was I too forceful, too rash? The exchange rocked us and turned the day to ash.

The next afternoon, we composed a note of apology for misunderstanding her and regret for the scene that marred our Monday. Missy left it on Alice’s porch with a loaf of pumpkin chocolate chip bread.

Alice responded a week later with a brief note, sent via snail mail. She thanked us for the bread but did not apologize. Her words felt like a backhanded way of saying we are to blame.

With the wound still fresh and our minds in disbelief at her callousness, we tossed her note in our recycle bin. We wanted to be right. We wanted her to see the logic of our clogged gutters and our daughter’s sensory needs. But the ensuing silence was heavy. The poison of strife was setting in, that physical tightening of the chest that happens when a neighbor becomes an adversary.

It was here that the sermons from that Sunday began to sink in. The peacemaking process can be chaotic and confusing. As the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King famously noted, “Change does not roll in on the wheels of inevitability, but comes through continuous struggle.”

Love and forgiveness are the only way forward. Thus our quick offering of peace. This Dr. King also knew. “Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that,” he said. “Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”

Alas, progress toward peace feels less like a victory march and more like the slow process of clearing a blocked gutter—one handful of debris at a time. But we will try. And we will keep trying.

We want to be peacemakers. But peacemaking is a long dance, a communal project that must be engaged in by both sides. Whether it is building muscle, better habits, stronger relationships, or a neighborhood and society where we simply respect and love each other, nothing comes to pass without Dr. King’s idea of “continuous struggle.”

Moses knew this. The Hebrew prophet had a classic mountaintop experience where God spoke to him from a high place and showed him a vision of all of this world and its inhabitants. Then God’s presence withdrew and Moses was “left unto himself” and he fell to the earth, learning a lesson he’d never forget about his own limited abilities and God’s infinite powers.

In Moses’ reflection of the wonder of his theophany, we find a powerful phrase: “I beheld [God’s] face.”

Though this painful experience with Alice remains unresolved, it was an opportunity to behold her face up close—not merely as the “crow lady” or a source of drama, but as someone created in the image of God. We are commanded to love her who, at the moment, feels like an enemy. As the musical Les Miserables concludes, “To love another person is to see the face of God.”

The continuous struggle to find that divine face in the neighbor is the path toward the light of God. It is not paved with grand gestures or born of sudden, mountain top epiphanies, but is carved out of daily rhythms of relation where we smile at others, say hello, step into shared spaces, and listen. The struggle isn’t heroic—it’s habitual.

 

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National Religious Freedom Day stings a little this year.

The past few months have brought some painful experiences to members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In September, a shooter and arsonist took the lives of four members of the Church and wounded several more in Michigan. Just hours before, the Church’s senior leader, President Russell M. Nelson, had passed away. In our mourning, many online expressed great sympathy and kindness. But sadly, some saw fit to focus on hurtful arguments that Latter-day Saints aren’t Christian—and in some cases, argued that we’re simply demonic.

Around the country this fall, explicit chants about “Mormons” echoed through several college football stadiums where BYU played, including at a game where survivors of the Michigan attack were in attendance. Although apologies followed, they claimed that the actions did not represent the university, and no actions were taken to help remedy the students’ animus. (I do note that some schools took intentional steps to prevent these hateful chants, which I gratefully applaud.)

Meanwhile, in the news media, the Wall Street Journal posted disrespectful photos of Latter-day Saint sacred temple clothing and rituals in an act of startling ethical transgression—and yet one all too familiar for Latter-day Saints. Many media outlets still refused to refer to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints by its correct name, insisting they knew best what to call us or that we don’t actually care if the wrong name is used. And the entertainment industry continued to portray members, particularly women, in shallow, distorted, and hypersexualized ways—neglecting accurate portrayals of those who are fully immersed in heeding the tenets of the faith. 

All this in a time where Pew Research Center has reported a great irony: while Latter-day Saints are unique for feeling positive—and in most cases, very positive—toward all faith groups (and even atheists), they are, in return, disliked by nearly all those groups. (A shout-out to our Catholic friends, the only surveyed group to feel positively.)

The way that Latter-day Saints face religious hostility in America is unique. Commentator Jonah Goldberg of The Dispatch said it well after the Michigan shooting: “I think extreme anti-Mormonism may be the most reactionary form of hatred in America” because it is “hating people solely for what they believe.” The hatred “is overwhelmingly theological and abstract” and does not appear to be inspired by “anything that Mormons”—or as we’d kindly suggest, Latter-day Saints—“actually, or even allegedly, do.” 

This peculiar theological hate often leads to a strange cultural tolerance for degrading Latter-day Saints in the public square in ways that would not be deemed permissible for other faiths. For all the talk in recent years of shedding hate and cultivating tolerance, love, and respect, it hasn’t seemed to apply in a widespread way to members of The Church of Jesus Christ. As Simran Jeet Singh of Religion News Service reported, “Hating Mormons remains socially permissible in modern America, just as it was nearly 200 years ago when they were forcibly displaced and almost exterminated.”

Yet despite the peculiar flavor of religious animus prevalent toward Latter-day Saints in America, I don’t think most of these cultural slights weigh too heavily on Latter-day Saints. Most of us have (perhaps sadly) grown accustomed to routine maligning by the media and the entertainment industry. We know we are countercultural—or in scriptural parlance, a “peculiar people.” The scriptures teach us to expect persecution and pay no heed to the world’s judgment. We focus on living our faith and finding joy in Christ, and we don’t spend much time fretting about this mistreatment.

But the violent attack—that was different. That pain pierced our historical consciousness, searing into our remembrance the violent persecution the early Saints in Missouri faced nearly two centuries ago. A much different context, yes. But the common thread? Hate-fueled violence toward Latter-day Saints.

I have followed religious freedom conditions around the world for nearly six years. My interest in advocating for the persecuted drove me to law school and inspires me to volunteer my free time to the cause. I frequently read horrific reports of mass atrocities, including war crimes and genocide. My heart grieves every time. Sometimes I become so consumed that the suffering persecuted are all I can think about.

And yet the Michigan attack shook me differently. Perhaps because Latter-day Saint meetings and chapels are so universal, and because I have spent nearly every Sunday of my life in them, I felt that I could visualize every moment of the attack as if I had been there. I could see the lay bishopric member at the stand when the truck drove into the building, the unassuming carpet on which the members would have run as they scattered, the hallways with gospel art where each member would have frantically searched for a safe way out. 

I wept for days after this attack. And I felt intense guilt that I do not weep every time I read of one. It is my firm conviction that every human life holds equal inherent worth and dignity. This belief is what drives me to advocate for the religious freedom of all people. And yet I suppose we are all most emotionally affected by what we are most intimately connected to. 

But now I no longer view my emotional response to my own faith’s suffering with shame. Instead, I see it as an impetus for me to better bear the burdens and “mourn with those that mourn” outside of my faith community in the wake of religious violence. Having briefly tasted, if only from a distance, the sting of religious violence aimed at my own faith community, I can more empathetically engage with others who have endured it too.

And sadly, many have. Just a month before the Michigan attack, an attacker opened fire on Annunciation Catholic Church in Minneapolis, killing two children. In June, a heavily armed man opened fire on CrossPointe Community Church in Michigan and was fatally shot. In May, a Jewish couple who worked for the Israeli embassy was shot and killed outside the Capital Jewish Museum in Washington, D.C. Similar attacks have happened to various people of faith and houses of worship across the country in recent years.

And for minority faith groups in America, religious persecution in the form of hate crimes, even if not violent, is too often a real and pervasive part of their experience. Of the 3,096 hate crimes motivated solely by religious bias in 2024, the three most affected groups were minority faith groups: about 69 percent of the religious hate crimes were targeted at Jews, 9.3 percent were targeted at Muslims, and 4.9 percent were targeted at Sikhs.

Antisemitism in the United States is surging. In 2024, the Anti-Defamation League reported the highest total number of antisemitic incidents since it began tracking data in 1979. 77 percent of Jews have reported feeling less safe in the U.S. since Hamas’ October 7, 2023, attacks in Israel, according to a report by the American Jewish Committee. And the same report indicated that more than half of U.S. Jews avoided a behavior in 2024 due to fears of antisemitism. 

Islamophobia is also increasing significantly. 70 percent of Muslims have reported facing increased discrimination in American society since the Hamas–Israel War began. The Council on American-Islamic Relations reported the highest number of anti-Muslim and anti-Arab incidents in 2024 since the group began compiling data in 1996. 

These trends are not limited to the United States. Just days after the Michigan attack on The Church of Jesus Christ, a Manchester synagogue was attacked during Yom Kippur, the holiest day in the Jewish calendar. The Manchester attack had startling similarities to the one in Michigan: the attacker drove a vehicle toward the sacred space (though this time, not into it), then exited in an attempt to violently attack the worshippers. 

As a Jewish friend and I texted in the wake of both incidents, I wondered if my own religious community was aware of what had just happened to our Jewish brothers and sisters in England. Would we mourn with those mourning that attack? For me, in 2025, the violence against my faith community was a rarity. For my Jewish friend, this was just one of many attacks on Jews that year, and devastatingly, another followed at Bondi Beach in Australia . 

As Latter-day Saints engage in dialogue about religious persecution—which I fully encourage—we must make sure we understand the broader context of religious persecution and hostility in the U.S. and abroad. As we join the conversation, we must neither understate or overstate our own case. Yes, we are often treated in highly unusual ways, particularly culturally, that should be adamantly condemned. But in so many ways, we fare much better than others in our acceptance, freedom, and safety in society. We are not persecuted the way we were in the early days of the Church. We are not victims of atrocities like ethnic cleansing or genocide because of our faith ties. Many of our fellow human beings are not so lucky.

If we plan to advocate for ourselves, we should first become better aware of the other faith groups experiencing religious hostility and persecution. We should realize that we do not carry the same fear that many Sikhs or Muslims or Jews carry when they leave their homes dressed in religious apparel. We do not know what it is like to have an ethnic-religious identity, with both aspects triggering acts of discrimination against us. We should try to better understand the experiences of our brothers and sisters for whom these forms of persecution are daily realities. And we should understand hostility toward or persecution of Latter-day Saints in this broader context. 

If we wish to advocate for ourselves, there is always the question of whether to turn the other cheek or to defend a righteous cause. In my own view, while we must seek to turn the other cheek and achieve personal reconciliation, and we must forgive those who have persecuted us, scripture teaches it can be righteous to advocate for ourselves as a group when we are persecuted as a faith community (so long as we did not provoke the offense). Restoration teaching adds that this advocacy should be peaceful.

In fact, I think it is important for members to peacefully and respectfully advocate for our faith community when we experience persecution: first, because it is just, and second, because it signals the standard of how we believe all human beings and their religious beliefs should be treated. If we don’t speak up about cultural desecration of the Book of Mormon in a musical, are we implying it’s okay to desecrate the Hebrew Bible (Tanakh), the Qu’ran, or the Bible? If we imply that hate speech against us is okay, do we think it’s okay against Buddhists, Sikhs, or evangelical Christians? Would we stand for explicit chants against them at sporting events or vile tweets against them on X in the wake of religious violence aimed at their communities? 

Even if you don’t want to deal with the question of whether self-advocacy is righteous, one thing is surely just: advocating for the religious freedom of others. In so doing, we honor the human dignity—the inherent, unchangeable, equal worth—of every person. We recognize that to be human is to have a conscience, and that from this follows the corollary human right to follow it. We emphasize that all human beings deserve to be treated with kindness, respect, and love—no matter what aspects contribute to their identities.

It may seem paradoxical for people of faith to advocate so intently for the rights of others to believe and act in ways that they may not believe to be fully theologically or soteriologically correct. And yet, for Latter-day Saints, preserving the freedom of the human spirit to act according to conscience is an act of religious devotion itself. It is a way of honoring the Plan of the Father and the beings created in His image who possess the sacred agency with which He endowed them. 

The Good Samaritan in Jesus’ parable was the unlikely advocate and rescuer for the injured Jewish man. Jews viewed Samaritans as religiously impure and heretical. Samaritans saw Jews as arrogant and wrong. And yet, the Samaritan man was the one who both noticed the wounded Jewish man and addressed his needs. Laying aside the tension between their communities and perhaps their inabilities to fully understand each other, the Samaritan had compassion for the Jewish man. However different from himself, the Samaritan saw the humanity in the other, “shewed mercy,” and helped the broken Jewish man heal from what he had so cruelly been a victim of. The Jewish man was not the Samaritan man’s enemy, but his neighbor and his brother.

This is our example. We must set aside our differences to advocate for the religious freedom of other faith groups. We may not fully understand them, and they may not understand us. Sometimes, there may even be significant theological rifts or cultural tensions between us, including harsh words uttered. But we can choose to see the humanity in one another and to stand for it.

So, on this National Religious Freedom Day, when persecution strikes my faith group, I commit to peacefully but firmly condemn it. And when it strikes others, I will condemn it too—perhaps even more vigorously. 

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This article marks the twelfth and final article in the Peacemaking Series. In 2023, the late Prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, issued the call, Peacemakers Needed. TheFamilyProclamation.org answered this call by producing 12 playful, 1 to 2-minute videos teaching principles and tactics for Peacemaking. While secular in their content, each video was directly inspired by the principles taught in President Nelson’s talk. When writing each script, the creators presented scholarly theories from the fields of psychology, philosophy, conflict resolution, and communication, which would help support an individual trying to integrate President Nelson’s message into their personal and professional relationships. Public Square Magazine published this 12-part article series as an opportunity to exhibit the research that supported the content of each video. Each article acts as a companion piece for one video from the series.

Questions for Conflict

The final video in the series presents a list of “Questions for Conflict.” Each question references principles taught in the previous videos. The intention is that an individual who has watched all the videos can quickly view this last video to help them remember what they have learned. The questions aren’t a test; they help guide an individual’s thinking as they consider the course of action they ought to take when trying to make a conflict more peaceful.

 

In similar fashion, this companion article lists the link to each video in the series, the link to its companion article, the main ideas taught in that video and article, and then the action question from the resource video above. Our intention with this article’s brevity and organization is that it may become a simple reference guide, something easily bookmarked for quick access, sharable with friends or family; an aid for creating more peace while navigating social conflicts in life, for inspiring “love one toward another” and to go “about doing good” (1 Thessalonians 3 and Acts 10). God bless us all as we grow in our discipleship of “The Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9).

Controlling Anger

The Art of Peacemaking: Controlling Anger by Bridging Logic and Emotion

Main Idea: When anger or other strong emotions surge, they can hijack our judgment, pushing us toward reactions that harm understanding and connection. By pausing to breathe deeply, we slow the body’s adrenaline response, give our rational mind time to catch up, and create space to act with clarity, patience, and purpose instead of hostility.

Question: Should I take a few deep breaths?

Conflict Is Natural

Conflict is Natural: How We Mistake Discomfort for Destruction

Main Idea: Conflict is when two or more opposing forces meet each other, and our personal associations with that word—whether positive or negative—reveal how we understand and respond to disagreement. By maturing those associations toward a “conflict is natural” perspective, we learn to see conflict not as something to fear or even like, but as an inevitable process toward discovering balance, harmony, and productive solutions.

Question: What good can come from this conflict?

Semantic Ambiguity

From Babel to the UN: How Semantic Confusion Undermines Peace—and the Radical Power of Clarity

Main Idea: Many disagreements begin with semantic ambiguity—the confusion that arises when a word carries multiple meanings and each person assumes their own definition is shared by everyone else. To resolve such confusion, take time to unpack the word by asking, “What do you mean by that?” This simple act builds the communication foundation for genuine peace through clarity.

Question: Are any of the words we’re using ambiguous?

Positive Gossip

What If Gossip Isn’t a Sin—But a Skill in Peacemaking?

Main Idea: Gossip––any conversation about someone who is not present—is a pervasive part of human communication, and it can be either negative, focusing on the faults of others, which spreads harm, or positive, celebrating others’ virtues and reinforcing unity. Intentionally pivoting from negative to positive gossip by asking questions that encourage empathy fosters compassion, strengthens relationships, and transforms ordinary conversation into a constructive force for understanding and social unity.

Question: Have I acknowledged this person’s strengths?

Bridges of Understanding

The Complex Art of Christian Kindness: Building Bridges

Main Idea: Conflicts often arise not because people truly disagree, but because people misunderstand one another’s perspectives. The solution is to ask sincere questions motivated by genuine curiosity and the desire for positive connection—turning toward “bids.” This builds understanding, fosters goodwill, and allows people to navigate differing perspectives without compromising personal standards.

Question: Do I sincerely believe this person knows something I don’t?

Disagreements Bring Balance

Disagreements Bring Balance: When Silence Isn’t Peace

Main Idea: Many people avoid speaking up in disagreements out of fear of rocking the boat, being judged, or creating conflict, yet this silence often limits perspective, stifles collaboration, and diminishes relational authenticity. By embracing vocal disagreement through empathy, curiosity, and structured techniques—such as using “I statements,” talking in parts, asking clarifying questions, and restating others’ perspectives—individuals can take responsibility for expressing their own views and create deeper connections.

Question: Have I expressed every part of myself honestly?

Forgiveness

 You Don’t Need to Feel Forgiving to Forgive

Main Idea: The experience of personal betrayal often leaves lasting pain, presenting a tension between holding onto anger or extending forgiveness, a choice that affects both the offender and the offended. Forgiveness is an active, deliberate process practiced through steps like naming the hurt, imagining dialogue with the offender, switching perspectives, and then choosing between anger and forgiveness. Even without trust, apology, or change from the other person, one can cultivate compassion, emotional healing, and freedom for oneself.

Questions: Why am I hurting? Why might they be hurting? Am I choosing to give them anger or forgiveness?

Save the Relationship!

Disagreement: Three Steps toward Relationship Conservation

Main Idea: Even minor disagreements, if mishandled, can threaten the very heart of a relationship, causing lasting damage. By following the three-step approach—first separating the conflict from the relationship, next resuscitating the bond with gratitude and repair attempts, and finally addressing the deeper needs behind the disagreement—relationships can be preserved, strengthened, and transformed into opportunities for understanding and growth.

Questions: Have I separated the relationship from the conflict? How can I “resuscitate” the relationship? How can I address their deeper needs?

Conflict Styles

Why Winning Doesn’t Make You Right: Five Conflict Styles

Main Idea: Disagreements are inevitable, and no single approach suffices for every conflict; understanding the five conflict management styles—Oblige, Promote, Collaborate, Compromise, and Avoid—helps prevent resentment. Discern the needs of yourself and others, then apply the appropriate style for the situation: you can oblige when the issue matters more to others, assertively promote when it matters more to you, collaborate for mutual solutions, compromise when time is limited, or even avoid the conflict altogether when it’s just not that important.

Questions: Who has the greater need here? Which conflict style would be wise for me to use?

What is Power?

 

The Paradox of Power and the Secret Strength of Meekness

Main Idea: Power, defined simply as “the ability to control a resource,” emerges not from domination or coercion but from recognizing and effectively using resources (both internal and external). Sustainable and righteous power grows through self-mastery and compassionate influence, inviting others to engage willingly in play.

Questions: What resources are available to me? What should I stop participating in, and start participating in?

Peacemaking

Peacemaking, Redefined: Why Civility Feels So Radical

Main Idea: Rising social and interpersonal tensions make even minor disagreements feel threatening to relationships. The introductory video and article explain that the Peacemaking Series teaches that healthier connections can be cultivated by taking personal responsibility, approaching differences with empathy and respect, and modeling peacemaking one interaction at a time.

Question: What can I do to be a peacemaker?

About The Sykline Research Institute

The Skyline Research Institute hosts the website TheFamilyProclamation.org. As a non-profit organization, they combine scripture, scholarship, and stories supporting the doctrine and teachings in The Family: A Proclamation to the World. You can follow them for podcasts, original research, more video content, and even lesson plans for families and classrooms through their social media accounts or at their website, TheFamilyProclamation.org.

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Seeing Critics of the Church with a Pure Love

Outside the theater after a performance of the musical “The Book of Mormon,” two young women serving as missionaries laugh with a line of theatergoers who had just spent two hours chuckling at their faith. One man teased them, using a phone recording, fishing for a cringeworthy sound bite. Instead of debating, one sister offered him a copy of the book with a smile: “If you liked the parody, you might like the source.” He took it, still smirking. A week later, he messaged them to say he had read a few chapters and—more surprisingly—he apologized for trying to embarrass them. “I didn’t expect you to be kind,” he wrote. Kindness didn’t convert him (conversion comes by the Spirit), but it converted the moment. That impulse—answer a jab with generosity—has quietly become one of our most reliable instincts.

Our critics (and even our enemies) can refine our courage, our clarity, and our hospitality—charity without capitulation.

We do not concede doctrine, outsource discernment, or grant a heckler’s veto to critics. We listen because people are precious, not because scorn is persuasive, and we keep the “pure love of Christ” as both our motive and method. Learning from our enemies, in this sense, means learning how to love them better. Yes, as necessary, we must answer with facts, with consistency and safeguards; those looking for Jesus Christ and His Church deserve that from us. And when waves of attention build, the posture still holds.

#SurvivingMormonism

The upcoming documentary series “Surviving Mormonism” is generating a fresh crest of negative attention toward The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Another entry in the well-worn exposé genre of Latter-day Saints, the show purports to reveal the “dark history” of the Church through interviews with “abuse survivors, ex-Mormons and former LDS church leaders.” The show will be hosted by reality TV star Heather Gay, whose exodus story from the Church has been published as a New York Times best-seller.

Before even having watched the show, believing Latter-day Saints might interpret “Surviving Mormonism” as yet another pointed finger of scorn. The advertising materials certainly suggest as much.

And, if that guess turns out to be true, then part of an appropriate response to such scornful content is to “heed not.” However, engaging in loving and productive ways can also be appropriate, and may provide different benefits.

Many Latter-day Saints online modeled this in a viral response to the show’s title. In a short period of time, many Latter-day Saint creators have used the hashtag #SurvivingMormonism to poke fun at themselves for the often mild annoyances and idiosyncrasies of church members and culture. Examples included: “Surviving Mormonism, but it’s just me carrying a bunch of chairs to impress girls at my ward,” “Surviving Mormonism and it’s just me having to play basketball on carpet,” or “Surviving Mormonism and its High Council Sunday.”

These examples come in the same spirit as the outreach after the offensive Broadway play, which mocked Latter-day Saints and their faith: disarm hostility with humor, neighborliness, and confidence in the gospel rather than defensiveness.

Under normal circumstances, this kind of response softens hearts and builds goodwill. But because Latter-day Saints remain an out-group in many attention markets, these are not normal circumstances, and goodwill is not always reciprocated. The duty remains the same either way: meet caricature with Christlike love without ceding truth.

In the same spirit of not reacting defensively, we can go even further to recognize that every incoming volley is being fired by a human being—a fellow brother or sister in the family of God. The Savior’s example and modern apostolic counsel make clear that accusations and sensationalized personal apostasies sometimes merit our response as directed by the promptings of the Holy Ghost. But when we are called to defend truth, virtue, and the Kingdom of God, we should ensure that we are defending it in the Savior’s way, which means that our responses should always be motivated and shaped by what the Book of Mormon calls “the pure love of Christ.”

Old Bigotries, New Veneers

To understand why this pattern keeps resurfacing, zoom out from one show to the longer storyline. Across two centuries, Americans have recycled the same basic image of Latter‑day Saints with different lighting. In the 19th century, the Saints were cast as a wicked cult—socially alien, politically suspect, theologically off. That caricature licensed extraordinary measures and mob violence. From the mid‑20th century through the early 2010s, the image softened to false religion; good neighbors: Scout troops and service projects, civic leadership, and the 2002 Olympics—the so‑called “Mormon Moment.” For many, the Church read as rigorous but ordinary.

Over roughly the last decade, the mood darkened again—not because the Church pivoted into menace, but because the storytellers and their incentives changed. Prestige docudramas and true‑crime packaging blurred a fundamentalist offshoot into the main body; algorithms prized moral threat; headlines chased sharper edges. The label did the work that the evidence did not. Put simply: the attention markets transformed; the Church didn’t.

Follow the incentives, not the incense. Moral‑emotional language spreads faster than sober context; negative framing outperforms balanced framing; streaming platforms need a steady supply of villains; advocacy campaigns convert heat into dollars. None of this requires a critic to be insincere. It does create a system that amplifies heat and thins nuance, especially when the subject is a minority faith with a visible difference.

That is why yesterday’s bigotries can return in new veneers. Where 19th‑century broadsheets warned of polygamy and “secret oaths,” today’s packages spotlight weird underwear, money, and abuse. The old charge was alien. The contemporary brand is algorithmic alien. And conflation does the rest.

Meanwhile, what actually changed inside the Church in the last twenty years? Not a lurch into danger, but a remarkably steady picture: mission service and global humanitarian work; lay leadership; a plea for accurate naming; a familiar drumbeat on family, chastity, and service. 

So why did the temperature rise now? Several gears meshed at once. From 2012 to 2016, social feeds became the front page; the content that thrived honed villain arcs and moral bite with faster payoff loops. 

Streaming fought for differentiation with “based on a true story” limited series that collapsed an offshoot into the whole or an era into the present because simplicity binge‑watches better than footnotes. Investigations—sometimes vital—fed advocacy appeals, which seeded more coverage, which kept the story hot. 

And as national institutions lost trust, local communities with strong norms looked suspect by contrast; what used to read as civic virtue now reads as control to audiences trained to equate restraint with repression.

Put bluntly: the villain economy found a familiar mask. 

Ministering to Deep and Unmet Needs

That context can help us be less defensive. The people sharing their stories are not attacking Latter-day Saints or their way of life; they are being used by entertainment producers to maximize attention by exploiting their stories to fit into the package that sells today. If attention markets reward heat over light, disciples must choose the Savior’s incentives instead. 

In his 1977 talk, “Jesus: The Perfect Leader,” President Spencer W. Kimball taught that “Jesus saw sin as wrong but also was able to see sin as springing from deep and unmet needs on the part of the sinner … We need to be able to look deeply enough into the lives of others to see the basic causes for their failures and shortcomings.” 

This counsel to “look deeply into the lives of others” stands in a constructive sort of tension with the Book of Mormon’s depiction of giving no “heed” to mockery and scorn. In the day of the Prophet Joseph Smith, the word heed meant partly “to regard with care.” Then, Latter-day Saints must learn to carefully regard every soul who points the finger of scorn while disregarding the offensiveness of scornful language itself. This can be a difficult line to walk, but it is also the one encouraged by those who seek to follow Jesus Christ. 

One practical help here is that our perception machinery is biased by availability cascades (what we keep seeing feels typical) and out-group homogeneity (we infer “that’s how they are” from one vivid case). Knowing that these are human tendencies—not personal attacks—lets us choose slow empathy over quick certainty. And because familiarity often breeds warmth, not contempt, it is good discipleship (and good social science) to actually know the neighbors we’re tempted to reduce to headlines.

To put this another way, we must learn not to be fragile conflict-avoiders who passively stay out of trouble, but Christlike, antifragile peacemakers who actively strive to bring peace to troubled souls. President Russell M. Nelson reiterated his prophetic call for us to become peacemakers until, as it were, his dying breath, highlighting the significance of our efforts while recognizing our ongoing need for improvement. As we recognize both our own parochial concerns with public sentiment against Latter-day Saints and our broader sociopolitical environment of divisiveness and extremism, it is easy to see why peacemakers are needed and will continue to be needed.

Learning from Our “Enemies”

That posture doesn’t just restrain us; it teaches us. The host and individuals who will appear on the screen are children of God. Their stories matter. Our task is to keep clarity and charity together—refusing caricature, refusing contempt, and refusing to let the market’s heat stand in for moral light.

Latter‑day Saints in general are renowned for being enthusiastically kind people, both to outsiders as well as to each other. Yet we, like all faith communities, have our blind spots, and those blind spots tend to enlarge when we are in the majority. And who better to help us learn how to better prevent the lapses that sometimes happen in our policies than those who previously fell victim to them?

Conversely, the “Come Back” podcast interviews those who had left the Church of Jesus Christ only to return later in life. One of the overarching themes of these interviews is narratives of rekindled faith and fellowship. They began again to feel both God’s love and the love of other church members. Because “where love is, there God is also,” God’s children tend to go wherever they feel most loved. For this reason, praying for those who leave and criticize the Church is only the beginning; as we come to see and love our enemies as Jesus does, we will find that sometimes they have something to teach us, if we will receive it. Like the Lamanites in the Book of Mormon, some can act as a painful but divinely expedient spur to “stir [us] up in remembrance of [the Lord].” When the cords of that “scourge” bite us, we can either yield to temptations to fight or flee, or we can choose to remember Jesus and let Him prevail. If we choose the latter, He will change our hearts as He did with the Book of Mormon figures, the sons of Mosiah, so that we reach out to our enemies with peacemaking pleadings rather than a call to war.

The landmark book “The Anatomy of Peace” explains that the individuals and groups we consider our most bitter enemies can also teach us about some of our largest moral blind spots. In one of the book’s exercises for “recovering inner clarity and peace,” the authors invite us to ask ourselves a series of introspection questions such as how we, or a group with whom we identify, have made our enemies’ lives more difficult, and how progress toward peace with them might be hindered by our own pride, our feelings of victimization and entitlement, and our desires for validation, status, or belonging. Conducting this kind of searching inventory of our attitudes and behaviors and of those in our faith community is difficult soul‑work, but it yields hearts and congregations that are kinder, more inclusive, and more unified in our quest to build Zion. The alternative is to be damned to continue with our moral blind spots—talking past one another, disregarding or downplaying each other’s needs and pains, and grieving in the gridlock of our seemingly irreconcilable differences.

Because “the pure love of Christ” is so far above and beyond mere human capacity to obtain, we are exhorted to “pray unto the Father with all the energy of heart” to receive this love. We know we are receiving His love as we begin to “look deeply” into the lives of others and see their divine worth, hear the cries of their hearts, and offer them our peaceful presence and care without mixed feelings and motivations. Through faithfully living by the doctrine of Christ and practicing “diligence unto prayer,” Christ’s pure love may endure with us.

When criticism comes: (1) Heed not the mockery—don’t amplify heat. We know why this happens. (2) Regard the person with care—see “a blessed being of light, the spirit child of an infinite God.” (3) Respond in the Savior’s way—facts with fairness, humor with humility, love without capitulation. As we pray “with all the energy of heart,” His pure love will reshape both our moments and our ministries.

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All American Families of Faith participant names are pseudonyms to protect identity.

For many immersed in 21st-century culture, the idea of repentance may be jarringly akin to “shaming,” guilt-tripping, or fear-based condemnation. These connotations suggest links to depression, anxiety, and relational struggles and strife.  

In sharp contrast, however, many of the roughly 200 wives and husbands we interviewed in our American Families of Faith project—people with religious and relational strengths—discussed repentance as personal transformative change that has strengthened or even saved their marriage, their parent-child relationships, or both. For them, repentance is not a dark night of the soul, but the dawn of a better day for them and their loved ones. 

Jesus’ parable of the Prodigal Son opens with the words: “A certain man had two sons” (Luke 15:11). We learn that one of the two sons wanted to be finished with his life at home and requested “his portion” of his inheritance. 

The son wandered far from his father’s home and values, and gloried for a time in unfettered hedonism. The inheritance, however, was soon squandered, and when a famine hit, the prodigal son was reduced to caring for swine, the filthiest of animals in Jewish tradition. At rock bottom, the consequences of the wayward son’s foolish choices led him to think back on his father and filled him with a desire, or at least a desperation, to return home. 

As the father watched the road, he hoped that one day his son would come back to him, and “while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him” (Luke 15:20, NIV). His son, with a humble heart, pleaded, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son” (Luke 15:18-21, NIV). 

Instead, the father asked his servants to bring the finest robe, a ring, and shoes to clothe his son, then ordered a feast to celebrate his return.

As in the story of the Prodigal Son, in the American Families of Faith project, we have found instances of families being reunited, restored, preserved, and strengthened through acts of repentance. Personal transformative changes tend to have positive relational consequences. A close exploration of participants’ responses helped us to understand the processes and power of repentance among diverse Christian, Jewish, and Muslim families. 

The families’ recurring references, discussions, and explanations of repentance and forgiveness were particularly noteworthy given that we asked no direct questions about repentance and forgiveness. These insights emerged as participants shared the key practices and principles they embraced to become the type of family their respective clergy deemed strongest and most exemplary in their faith community.

Reasons for Repentance

Among participants, three main reasons were offered regarding the desire to repent. The first and primary reason for making difficult changes was having faith and a relationship with God. Charles, an Orthodox Christian father, said, “The desire to be with God, to be able to speak to Him, brings one to repentance and toward better action.” 

Similarly, Rachel, an Orthodox Jewish wife, related:

When you become more closely acquainted with Hashem¹ and … what His expectations are, you come to a realization that what you yourself want is not the most paramount thing on earth. … My goal [and] my purpose is to live a more Jewish life; not to live a more self-fulfilling life in the sense of material stuff … [and] egotistical things. 

A second motivating force or influence toward repentance and forgiveness is religious practices and rituals. These sacred practices reportedly reminded individuals of their spiritual beliefs and motivated them to consider how they could improve their behavior. Tyra, an African American Baptist wife, said of her husband of about two decades,

I’m sure to get on his nerves. He gets on my nerves … [but] we’re able to go to Bible study and go to Sunday service, and we’re going to hear something. God is always going to bring a word back to our [remembrance] that’s going to make us realize and ask Him for forgiveness, and we [then] come back and ask each other for forgiveness. 

We found similar narratives surrounding parent-child relationships, where the parents were inspired to repent and change because of their children. Such changes included improving dietary intake in ways that were health-conscious, religiously driven, or both. Changes also included increasing religious involvement, “walking the walk” to avoid hypocrisy, and striving to better “practice what you preach.” Indeed, an overarching lesson that emerged from the strong families we interviewed was a conviction that “Our behavior is permission to others to behave similarly … but it is more than that. It is an invitation to do so.”² To summarize the leading motivations for repentance, parents changed for God, they changed because of their religion, and they changed for their family members.

Steps for Repentance

American Families of Faith participants discussed various processes involved in repentance. First, one recurring idea was that repentance is a daily process that must be repeated often. Brent, a Jehovah’s Witness husband, said, “We’re constantly praying to God for forgiveness.”

Other instances of repentance occurred as couples worked together. Tanner, an Orthodox Christian husband, said, “I was not very religious when I first met [my wife] Amy, but she got me thinking about it. … I hadn’t really had any experience in the church for probably 15 years … but she made it an important thing to explore.” 

Several couples stressed the importance of patience with others as you are striving to be better. An African American Christian wife named Joelle determined that she would help her husband in his own faith journey, even if it took time. She recalled,

Even though I was on fire for God and I had made some changes in my life … my husband loves to [go to clubs] … and so I would still go with him. And you know, I think a lot of times women make that mistake, they become so self-righteous. … [But] until he was ready … [I believed] it was up to God to make the changes in him, that it wasn’t up to me. … And when he had begun to make changes, I just stepped it up a bit. … [It] was a matter of matching my steps with his steps so that we were still in harmony. 

This idea of growing together was echoed in the words of Quon, an Asian Christian husband, who said, “Sometimes she was ahead, sometimes I was ahead, and we encouraged each other to grow in the Lord together.” Likewise, Ramzi, a Muslim husband, shared, 

Our being together has influenced our progression in the faith. … Sometimes, I become lazy with some of the aspects of religion, then she reminds me, “[Y]ou are slacking off …” [For example], you are slacking off with your prayers, and you need to do them on time. So definitely, being together has helped us progress in our faith gradually. 

Husbands from various backgrounds noted that their wives helped them to stay on track. They also found vital actions of repentance during their relational struggles and conflicts that helped them to recognize the need for repentance.

Resources to Aid in Repentance 

There were two resources that participants mentioned as especially helpful in efforts to make constructive changes and repent. The first resource was having a belief in and a relationship with God, gaining strength through seeking divine assistance and grace. Christi, a Hispanic Christian mother, illustrated how she used this resource:

Only through my faith, that’s the only way [I was able to change], because … I just enjoyed smoking marijuana, that was just a part of my [life]. … There are [old friends], who are still smoking it, who can’t believe [that I’ve quit]. … Everything around my faith is positive for our marriage because it [helps us do what] we need to do. 

Not only did participants reportedly employ their faith and belief in God to change their individual behaviors, but faith was also central in helping to change the behaviors in their relationships. Ali, an Arab American Muslim father, said, “If we can’t get along, we [have] got to ask for God’s assistance. … We have to beg Him for His help and His aid, we have to receive His [guidance].” 

A second recurring resource we identified among participants’ responses in helping them make personal changes was various forms of religious practice and worship, including both public and private practices. 

Attending church was an example mentioned by Sophie, a Presbyterian wife who said, “Our practice of going to church on Sunday … reminds me of those things [I should be doing], [and] literally, I feel transformed within the hour, that I can actually do it.” 

Another example was from Yuusif, an Arab American Muslim father, who expressed: 

[The] five prayer times are basically reminders for Muslims [as to what] they should be doing. … You are alive to have a better afterlife, and to do that is to please God, and the way to please God is to praise God and ask for forgiveness for whatever you have done wrong. … People who do [these prayers] will be better people, better human beings. … Personally, it does affect me, and I would say my family [too], that it reminds us what the priority is. 

Other religious resources mentioned included studying sacred texts, seeking the support of one’s faith community, sacraments, fasting, the observance of High Holy Days and Shabbat (for many Jews), and the month of Ramadan (for many Muslims).  

How Repentance Strengthens Relationships with Others and God

There were many reports of positive outcomes for families and individuals that came from repentance. Many said repentance led them to have a better connection or relationship with God.  Timony, an Evangelical Christian husband, said, “As we invite Him into our life and He forgives our sins … He changes us and makes us more like Him, and the desire of our hearts changes and we develop friendship with God. I mean, that’s amazing!”  

There were also many positive family outcomes from repentance. Like the statement in The Family: A Proclamation to the World³ which states that “Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness …,” we found that repentance helped strengthen family relationships. Felipe, a Hispanic Catholic husband and father, explained, 

There have been so many times … our children have tried to do things that we haven’t taught them to do, but then when you come to them and say, ‘Hey, remember what the Bible says, you shouldn’t be doing that.’ And then, it is like they wake up again, and they say, ‘Alright, I was doing bad.’ And that happens many times. And the same for others, and adults, you know? … [Correcting] things like that make[s] your family life much better. 

Similarly, Sandra, an Orthodox Christian mother, said that a key for her family “to help avoid or reduce conflict, whether in the family or the marriage, is … frequent forgiveness and confession. And having those things is what keeps us, the kids and the parents together.” Reports like those from Sandra and Felipe indicated that repentance helped create peace in the family.  

Finally, when peace was disturbed or destroyed, repentance helped reduce and resolve marital conflict. Jian, an Asian Christian wife, said, “When we had some disagreements, we prayed together, confessed our sins before God, and learned to forgive each other.” 

Repentance also helped participants to develop habits and virtues that made it easier to reduce and resolve marital conflict. Dustin, an Episcopal husband, said that they had learned: “We are capable of looking at ourselves and seeing and being able to admit that we’re wrong. I do think that a religious background and a belief in God have an effect on that.” 

In summary, repentance creates and maintains peace, but when peace is fractured, it is also repentance that helps to restore peace. 

Repentance is often misunderstood as a term associated with shame and punishment, but for the families of faith we interviewed, it was honored as a powerful resource that promotes both personal and relational transformation. 

We can all relate to the spiritual or relational weight we may feel when we have committed a mistake, but like the Prodigal Son, we can repent and come back to our better selves. The families we interviewed remind us that as we do so, not only are we healed, but our relationships can be as well.

Personal and Relational Processes of Repentance in Religious Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Families

Notes:

1. Hashem (meaning “The Name”) is how many Orthodox Jews refer to God in order to honor the name of God.

2. Marks, L. D., & Dollahite, D. C. (2017). Religion and families. Routledge. (Direct quote from p. 250).

3. A statement of the First Presidency and Council of the Twelve Apostles of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

 

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Most people instinctively lean on one or two ways of handling conflict: a favorite approach and a fallback when the first doesn’t work. Yet there are five conflict management styles, and all five are necessary in fostering healthy relationships. The challenge is learning to use the right style at the right time. Which styles do you default to? And which should you start implementing?

This article is part of a series pairing short, humorous videos created by TheFamilyProclamation.Org with articles published by Public Square offering deeper explorations of the theory and doctrine of Peacemaking. Each installment pairs academic theory with Christian teachings for resolving everyday disagreements.

Today’s video shows examples of using all five conflict management styles when there are two people, but only one slice of pizza left. 

The five styles introduced here are based on the Thomas–Kilmann Conflict Mode Instrument: Oblige, Promote, Collaborate, Compromise, and Avoid. It’s helpful to consider the five styles based on people’s needs: your needs and the needs of others. And, the amount of time and effort each style takes. The consequence of unmet needs either in oneself or others is the strong negative emotion of resentment. No one style is inherently right or wrong. The key lies in discerning which approach fits the situation.

Oblige

Obliging means yielding to another’s needs. When the issue matters more to them than to oneself, in conflict theory, it reflects a low concern for personal needs and a high concern for others’ needs. This style can de-escalate tensions, promote gratitude, and acknowledge the importance of another’s perspective. However, overuse may neglect essential personal needs.

A scriptural example comes from Abraham and Lot in Genesis 13. When their herdsmen quarreled over land, Abraham obliged: “Let there be no strife, I pray thee, between me and thee … for we be brethren … If thou wilt take the left hand, then I will go to the right; or if thou depart to the right hand, then I will go to the left.” Lot chose the fertile Jordan Valley, while Abraham accepted the less desirable land. Abraham’s willingness to accommodate preserved peace between their households.

In the 1840s, a devastating blight destroyed Ireland’s potato crops, leading to mass starvation and disease. The U.S. government took direct action. President James K. Polk ordered the naval vessel USS Jamestown to be filled with provisions and sent to Ireland in 1847. This was followed by widespread public fundraising and additional aid from the government. The U.S. decision was driven by empathy for the suffering Irish population, many of whom had emigrated to America. The action was taken with no expectation of political or financial compensation. While it did strengthen the relationship, the United States’ response to the Irish Potato Famine was an obliging act motivated by a sense of goodwill and compassion.

Pros: Defuses tension quickly; communicates care for the other’s perspective; allows movement forward when personal cost is minor.

Cons: Can create resentment if personal needs are repeatedly ignored; risks imbalance in relationships; may enable others’ selfishness.

Iconic statement: “This matters more to you than to me—take it.”

Promote

Promoting involves asserting one’s own needs. When the issue is of high importance personally but less critical for others, in conflict theory, this reflects a high concern for personal self-needs and a lower concern for others’. Used wisely, it preserves integrity, sets boundaries, respect, and prevents neglect of essential personal responsibilities.

Scripture records Esther as a profound example. When the Jews of Persia faced extermination, Esther risked her life by approaching King Ahasuerus unbidden. “If I perish, I perish” (Esther 4:16). Her boldness in promoting her people’s survival turned the tide of history.

In modern history, Susan B. Anthony exemplified this style through tireless advocacy for women’s suffrage. Willing to endure arrest and ridicule, she insisted, “Men, their rights, and nothing more; women, their rights, and nothing less.” By promoting her cause with unrelenting persistence, she advanced the rights of countless women.

Pros: Safeguards essential personal needs; establishes clear boundaries; brings neglected issues to light.

Cons: Can appear and even become domineering; risks escalating conflict; may undermine relationships if used unnecessarily.

Iconic statement: “This matters deeply to me—I must stand for it.”

Collaborating

Collaborating seeks solutions that fully meet the needs of all parties. In theory, it reflects a high concern for both self and others. It is the most time-intensive and demanding style, but also the one most likely to generate durable, creative, and mutually satisfying resolutions.

A scriptural example appears in the Council of Jerusalem (Acts 15), where early Christians debated whether Gentile converts must keep the law of Moses. Through deliberation and testimony, leaders forged a collaborative solution: Gentiles would not be required to keep the full law but were asked to respect certain practices for the sake of unity. This preserved inclusion without dissolving moral standards.

In history, Nelson Mandela exemplified collaboration during South Africa’s transition away from apartheid. Instead of seeking revenge, his inclusive multiracial leadership in the African National Congress, personal mentorship of Springbok rugby captain Francois Pienaar, and his willingness to work with political rivals Mandela established a democratic framework, preventing civil war and opening a path toward reconciliation.

Pros: Builds trust; generates creative solutions; addresses the deepest needs of all parties.

Cons: Requires significant time and energy; can stall if parties are unwilling; may be impractical in urgent conflicts.

Iconic statement: “Let’s stay at the table until we find a solution that works for all of us.”

Compromising

Compromising involves each party yielding part of their needs to reach a middle ground. In theory, it balances moderate concern for self and others. It does not produce perfect satisfaction but provides workable solutions when time is short or stakes are moderate.

A scriptural example appears in the division of land among Israel’s tribes. The tribe of Reuben and Gad requested land east of the Jordan, which initially angered Moses. A compromise was reached: they could settle eastward provided their soldiers helped the other tribes secure their inheritance west of the Jordan (Numbers 32).

In history, the Missouri Compromise of 1820 illustrates this principle. Balancing free and slave states preserved the fragile union for a time, though deeper moral questions remained unresolved.

Pros: Creates quick, workable solutions; is often perceived as “fair”; avoids stalemates; spreads sacrifice across parties.

Cons: Often leaves no one fully satisfied; can defer deeper issues; risks fostering half-measures instead of real resolution.

Iconic statement: “I’ll give some, you give some, and we’ll both move forward.”

Avoiding

Avoiding means stepping away from conflict altogether, either by deferring, delaying, or disengaging. In theory, it reflects low concern for the needs of both self and others in the conflict. Avoidance may preserve peace when the issue is trivial, the relationship is distant or unimportant, or when emotions are too high for productive discussion. But, avoidance risks creating resentment if used habitually in close or necessary relationships.

Scripture shows Jesus withdrawing after intense disputes with religious leaders: “And Jesus went about Galilee: for he would not walk in Jewry, because the Jews sought to kill him” (John 7:1). His withdrawal shows discernment for choosing the right moment to disengage. But on another occasion, when confronted by opponents trying to trap him with a question about paying taxes to Caesar, Jesus asked to see a coin and noted that it bore Caesar’s image. He then responded, “Render therefore unto Caesar the things which be Caesar’s, and unto God the things which be God’s.” Though He engaged with those promoting a conflict, this encounter is still an example of conflict avoidance because Jesus shifted the conversation to a moral lesson rather than engaging in the political debate his opponents intended.

As president, George Washington witnessed the growing animosity between factions, which he feared would destroy the republic from within. Instead of staying in office to fight the factions, Washington retired, setting a critical precedent for a peaceful transfer of power. By doing so, he removed his unifying but also polarizing presence, forcing the political system to mature on its own. His farewell address served as a final, non-partisan warning. George Washington’s retirement is an example of avoidance, as he intentionally disengaged from political power to prevent the young nation from being torn apart by deepening partisan conflict. By contrast, Mahatma Gandhi continually engaged in politics utilizing strategic avoidance through nonviolent resistance. By refusing to meet violence with violence, he avoided direct clashes while still advancing his cause, exhausting the will of his opponents without reciprocating hostility.

Pros: Allows time for cooling off; prevents escalation over trivial matters; creates space for reflection.

Cons: Can leave problems unresolved; risks long-term resentment; may erode trust if avoidance becomes habitual.

Iconic statement: “This conflict doesn’t need to be fought right now.”

“O Be Wise”

We may be particularly gifted or prone to using one or two of the styles, but no single style is sufficient for every situation. Scripture and history affirm that wisdom lies not in clinging to one or two styles but in discerning which approach serves the moment best. Some say knowledge comes from facts, but wisdom comes from experience. Learn from the experience of others and, in counsel with God, discern which style to resolve every conflict in life. Conflict is inevitable, but considering the full range of conflict styles transforms disagreements into robust opportunities for growth, justice, and deeper connection: don’t just default to one or two styles. So even though we may be “as sheep in the midst of wolves: be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves” (Matthew 10).

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When President Russell M. Nelson passed away, I felt both grief and gratitude. He was a prophet whose warmth and vision expanded my understanding of the Savior. When President Dallin H. Oaks stood at the pulpit during General Conference and spoke tenderly of his “dear friend” President Nelson—his voice catching with emotion as he recalled learning of Christ through him—I saw a man feeling the full weight of both loss and legacy. It was the first conference he attended without the companion apostle who had served alongside him for decades.

I know the anticipation of his presumed imminent ascendancy to the Presidency of the Church has some feeling joy and excitement, while others feel anxiety or frustration. That tender moment when President Oaks opened his heart as he opened General Conference sets the tone for how I want to invite you to approach him as the probable new leader of the Church: with empathy, curiosity, and a willingness to see not only his divinely-appointed office but his humanity.

A Ministry of Law and Love

These stories and insights show how President Oaks’ seriousness about sacred things reflects not coldness but reverence. They flow naturally from his lifelong effort to balance love and law—firm in conviction yet humble enough to be guided by the Spirit.

Throughout his academic, professional, and religious pursuits, President Oaks has wrestled with the same paradox he invites us to confront: how to combine uncompromising truth with unconstrained love. In his many addresses on Love and Law, he insists that divine commandments and divine compassion are not enemies. “We must be soft on people,” he said once, “but firm on principles.”

When his critics accuse him of harshness, they often stop reading before they reach the part where he pleads with us to treat each other tenderly. It’s true: it is all too easy to call out sin. It is far harder to move beyond professing love to practicing it—leaning in, reaching out, and staying committed without reservation. Yet that is exactly what he asks of us—and what he tries, however imperfectly, to model himself.

These glimpses into his private spirituality show how his devotion to divine law deepens, not diminishes, his capacity for love. A poignant anecdote from Richard Turley’s biography of him adds further insight. Early in his calling as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, he gave a 45-minute talk to a local congregation in New Zealand that was peppered with personal stories and humorous asides. The audience ate it up (as I would have), but he later recorded in his journal feeling rebuked by the Spirit (“never do that again”), warning him to focus more on preaching and testifying of Jesus Christ.

His current wife, Sister Kristen Oaks, remarked to Turley that one of his daughters said to him, “Daddy, you look like you are mad sometimes when you speak.” But Sister Oaks explains, “he was never angry or irritated, just somber as he shared sacred truths.”  It seems like in President Oaks, we have the inspired leader the Lord needs us to have, even if we may not always realize it or appreciate it.

The Purpose of a General Authority

President Oaks once explained, “As a General Authority, it is my responsibility to preach general principles. When I do, I don’t try to define all the exceptions.” He was describing not cold detachment but duty—the call to declare doctrine broadly and trust members to apply it individually; in the same address, he quotes Joseph Smith: “I teach [people] correct principles and they govern themselves.” I believe the perceived firmness we sometimes hear in his addresses grows out of that stewardship, not a lack of compassion. In private, he is always described as gentle, personal, approachable, even playful, and cracking jokes. (When my friend met him at his local Church meeting, he introduced himself as “Brother Oaks.”) I think understanding this difference between his public General Authority ministry and his personal ministry “to the one” helps us broaden our perspectives and judgments about him.

Seeing Beyond the Headlines

President Oaks’ comments about sexual and gender minorities have often stirred controversy. Some hear his warnings about “gender confusion” as a lack of understanding or criticism of people. But careful attention to his words suggests otherwise.

When he says Satan “seeks to confuse gender,” he is describing what he perceives as a distortion of divine order—the blurring of sacred distinctions between male and female, husband and wife. I do not read those words as condemning (or dismissing the experiences of) those who feel same-sex attraction or experience gender incongruence. When he speaks like this, I believe he is expressing doctrinal and civilizational concern, not concerns or condemnations of individuals.

That distinction matters. It may not erase the pain some have felt from his words, but it clarifies the intent behind them: to preserve a pattern he believes God established, not to belittle the people he knows God cherishes.

Private Encounters of Warmth and Humor

Those who have met him describe a different side than his public reputation, as stern, aloof, and detached. One of my friends, a man who experiences same-sex attraction, met privately with President Oaks years ago. He expected formality; what he got was warmth and humor. President Oaks cracked jokes, asked penetrating questions, and listened with real interest. Another friend saw him after a controversial address and mentioned the online uproar. President Oaks simply smiled and said he paid no attention to it before asking for personal details about my friend, wanting to get to know my friend, rather than (as I likely would have) getting distracted by and sucked into the drama about himself. His focus on what truly mattered in that moment struck me—it wasn’t indifference, but a refusal to let outrage define his ministry, or allow controversy to detract from connection with the person in front of him.

Recall that other incident when he visited my other friend’s downtown ward: he introduced himself not as “Elder Oaks,” but as “Brother Oaks.” That single word change encompasses a world of meaning. It said, in effect, I am one of you. He did the same thing when he visited my Stake a few years ago—showing that this is not a one‑time gesture but a pattern of humility. Whatever else one may think of his expository style, humility is part of his discipleship.

Stories of Compassion and Bridge‑Building

One of President Oaks’ relatives and a friend of mine within the North Star community (an LDS-focused ministry for sexual and gender minorities and their families) once shared a moment that beautifully captures his heart. In 2019, at a family reunion, this friend’s gay son and his husband attended–though a bit hesitantly. President Oaks, then in his mid‑eighties, went out of his way to greet this family. With unmistakable kindness, he warmly greeted the son and his husband. That simple act sent a clear message to everyone there: we can always choose to be kind, loving, and welcoming—no matter what.

This North Star friend also recalled that an attorney involved in the Utah “Fairness for All” legislation described how pivotal President Oaks’ behind‑the‑scenes efforts had been. And those efforts did not stop in Utah. People close to the process of the federal Respect for Marriage Act confirm that he worked relentlessly—quietly but personally—to safeguard both religious liberty and LGBT dignity. His conviction was steady: religious freedom and civil respect can and must coexist. I can confirm this—I heard the same thing from more than one employee at Church Headquarters. 

The pattern continues with those who are on the margins of church membership and belonging. I know the person with same-sex attraction President Oaks mentioned in his beautiful talk, “He Heals the Heavy Laden.” He told me that both before and long after that talk, President Oaks frequently reached out and offered support to him.

Similarly, I know of another person who struggles with persistent gender dysphoria and hears from President Oaks often, asking questions and offering support and encouragement. 

These two examples also suggest that those who assume President Oaks is unaware of the personal and private pain experienced by sexual and gender minorities—and that if he knew more, he would speak differently—may want to reconsider that assumption.

A Broader Pattern of Growth and Change

Prophetic callings often bring new emphases. Ezra Taft Benson was famous as a fierce anti‑communist throughout the time he was an apostle. Yet, once he was ordained President, he became the prophet of “flooding the earth with the Book of Mormon” and warning about pride. I cannot predict what themes President Oaks will be inspired to emphasize as president, but we should not assume that the themes he has dwelt upon during his apostleship will extend to his presidency. His legal mind may still prize order, but his heart, refined by years of listening to those who hurt, seems relentlessly focused on healing and unity. Whatever happens, his record shows consistency in one thing: he deeply and lovingly respects people, even when he cannot agree with them.

A Personal Connection to the Family-Centered Gospel

In his concluding remarks at the October 2025 General Conference, President Oaks emotionally recounted the pain and grief he experienced as a young boy upon learning from his Grandfather Harris that his father had died of tuberculosis. Fleeing to his room, he collapsed on his bedside and cried out to God. This personal tragedy gave President Oaks a firsthand understanding of the profound impact on children when families are fragmented. He acknowledges that few families fully embody the ideals presented in the Proclamation on the Family, often due to circumstances outside our control. However, his own experience as a suddenly fatherless child highlights the suffering that arises when those ideals are not achieved. That burden is primarily borne by the most vulnerable—our children. It is likely that his own experience of fatherlessness has made the ideals expressed in the Proclamation, particularly the statement that “children are entitled to birth within the bonds of matrimony, and to be reared by a father and a mother,” especially meaningful to him.

An Invitation to a Fresh Start

Some may still struggle with his tone or with the weight of his words—both past and their fears of his future words. That is understandable. I get it. I have been pricked by his words more than once myself. But perhaps the challenge is not to turn away from him, but to walk beside him—to practice the same discipline he preaches: loving without surrendering conviction, and holding conviction without losing love. When I’ve tried to do that with his words or other leaders’ words, the spiritual struggle has always been worth it.

Even if you feel he has not always struck the perfect balance, that there are things you feel he shouldn’t have said, isn’t this still a worthwhile quest he has set before us? To offer others the same grace, patience, and curiosity we hope to receive from others? And if you’ve struggled with him personally, maybe, just maybe, that is something worth trying with him as well?

If, as I expect, President Oaks will soon rise to lead the Church, then we will also have the chance to rise a level as well. To accept the challenge he’s set before us, to prove that disciples of Christ can hold truth and tenderness in the same outstretched hands, that we can disagree with courage, clarity, and love. I pray we will enter this new season of the Church not with fear or cynicism, but with faith: faith that God can continue to work through imperfect servants to do perfecting work. I know He has done that with me, and I am very far from perfect. If we can try to trust that divine pattern, then perhaps, under President Oaks’ leadership, we will all have opportunities to increase our ability to love boldly, speak truly, and walk humbly before our Heavenly Father.

Further Reading

For those who would like to explore more of President Oaks’ compassionate and faith‑filled teachings, consider reading or watching these talks:

1. He Heals the Heavy Laden (October 2006) – A deeply empathetic message about how the Savior heals our burdens and sorrows.
2. Love and Law (October 2009) – His foundational statement on how divine commandments and divine compassion work together.
3. The Paradox of Love and Law (BYU–Idaho Devotional) – A more conversational address on the same theme, rich with examples of humility and understanding.
4. Love Is the Great Commandment and the Law Is the Great Framework (October 2024) – His most recent treatment of this balance, emphasizing empathy and faith.
5. Helping the Poor and Distressed (October 2022) – Focused on compassion, ministering, and the Christian call to lift the vulnerable.
6. Always Remember Him (April 1988) – An early talk reflecting his tenderness and reverence for the Savior’s atonement.

 

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In two articles published here (Bridle Your Empathy and Empathy or Echo Chambers), I have discussed some lesser-understood challenges in the exercise of empathy. In response to these previous articles, I saw my stance labeled “anti-empathy”––a response I expected. In popular culture, empathy is understood to have an almost sacred value: empathy is never to be scrutinized, questioned, or second-guessed. To even suggest empathy can be a force for anything but good surprises many people. Since many have never imagined criticizing empathy in any possible way, anything but affirmation and praise only registers as an attack on empathy.

Some might be inclined to “balance” the always positive messaging surrounding empathy by making sharp statements about empathy’s problems and drawbacks. This seems to have been the logic behind two recent book titles. The first is The Sin of Empathy: Compassion and Its Counterfeits by Christian theologian Joe Rigney, which offers a Christian perspective on how empathy is misused in the context of faith. The second is the forthcoming book Suicidal Empathy by Concordia University professor Gad Saad, which will reflect his popular commentary on how societies implement self-destructive policies in the name of empathy. However, those of us engaged in critical discussions of empathy have a greater task beyond articulating negatives. Our real challenge is in educating and promoting readers toward an effective mode of empathy. 

Reality Testing

Expanding upon my previous articles, I suggest empathy leads to good only when paired with reality testing. A concept commonly employed in psychotherapy, reality testing is the process of examining beliefs and perceptions to see if they align with reality.

In a situation like psychosis, a person might suffer from a delusion that they are a world leader or divine figure. The task of a mental health professional is to help this person develop an ability to engage in some amount of reality testing, self-evaluating their identity-belief to see if it is true. In a less severe situation, a therapist can invite reality testing in response to excessive pessimism, using tools like Cognitive Behavior Therapy to help the client develop thought processes that are more based in truth. In both cases, the ability to live well in reality is seen as the measure of well-being.

Beyond the context of mental health, reality testing is considered to be important in politics. I say “considered to be” because many tend to assume their political views are based in reality. Many also believe that differing political views arise because others have not engaged in sufficient reality testing. Further, individuals often delegate the task of reality testing to those who curate their political information. By assuming the source has already done their due diligence of reality testing, they treat the information they receive from them as a final product. Reality testing in politics involves accounting for bias in our sources and actively seeking multiple perspectives.

In the United States and Europe, our politics are in a crisis of empathy without reality testing, and much of our lack of reality testing comes from our lack of confidence in institutions that we relied upon in the past to perform that function. This has been a long process, underway for decades. For example, some readers remember the presentation made by General Colin Powell to the United Nations in 2003, making the case that Iraq was developing weapons of mass destruction. When the extensive WMD program described in his speech was not found in our subsequent invasion of Iraq, the U.S. intelligence community suffered a tremendous loss of public credibility as a source for reality testing.

More recently, The Atlantic writer Thomas Chatterton Williams described how decisions in the public health establishment during the COVID pandemic helped to undermine this confidence:

… As the direct consequence of lockdowns and quarantines, many millions of people around the world lost their income, depleted their savings, missed farewells and funerals of loved ones, postponed cancer screenings, never experienced graduations and proms, at times went without human touch entirely, and generally put their lives on pause for the indefinite future. They accepted these sacrifices as awful but necessary when confronted by an otherwise unstoppable virus. And then, from one day to the next, they were told with a straight face that this had all been done in vain. “The risks of congregating during a global pandemic shouldn’t keep people from protesting racism,” NPR announced with eyebrow-raising certitude, citing a letter signed by dozens of American public health officials and disease experts. “White supremacy is a lethal public health issue that predates and contributes to COVID-19,” the letter further explained. One prominent epidemiologist went still further, arguing that the public health risks of not protesting for an end to systemic racism “greatly exceed the harms of the virus.”

To encourage protesting and thereby spread a deadly disease among the protestors themselves, members of our public health establishment gave the impression they were driven by ideology more than public safety. Because of that decision, public health officials ceased to be a viable source of reality-testing for many. The consequences of this have been severe. On questions of public health, a large segment of Americans has turned to alternative voices for reality testing, and it is possible that institutions like the Centers for Disease Control will never recover the valuable role for reality testing they once held.

Other examples could be cited, but Americans who wish to employ reality testing for our political views face an uphill battle when seeking sources that have not been significantly compromised.

Reality testing in faith

The council system of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is an excellent mechanism for bringing reality testing into decision-making. Many painful moments in the Church’s history resulted from decisions made outside the council system and the reality testing it offers. Perhaps the most notable example is the Mountain Meadows Massacre, where local church leaders in Southern Utah sent a request for guidance from President Brigham Young, and then, in a failure of the council process, they made terrible decisions before allowing enough time to include his voice in their deliberations. President James E. Faust once said the council system among the First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve “provides a check on bias and personal idiosyncrasies … guard[ing] against the foibles of man.”

Reality testing is very important at an individual level for a life of faith. It builds mature thought processes for withstanding the pull of extreme viewpoints and the chaotic and poisonous messaging of accusers and detractors. It assists when evaluating whether a concept is doctrinal or not––as explained by Elder Christofferson in “The Doctrine of Christ.” To examine whether beliefs are grounded in reality, one can use epistemology—the process of thinking through how one arrived at their beliefs. In this process, the combined value of personal experiences, witness testimony, observation, and other sources of knowledge is considered.

When President Dieter F. Uchtdorf encouraged church members to “doubt your doubts before you doubt your faith,” this was another invitation to reality testing. To “doubt our doubts” is to honestly inquire whether those doubts are the product of sound assumptions and mature thinking. Many people over the years have assumed that if something can be criticized without a satisfactory response, then––by default––it must not be true. But this same logic leads people to “deconstruct” their belief that the world is round or adopt other wild conspiracy theories. For people in these situations, the solution is to learn to deconstruct one’s own deconstruction and apply reality testing to the doubts.

Empathy and reality testing

The motte and bailey is a rhetorical trick where an individual gets an opposing party to agree with a very agreeable position (the motte). However, the individual then swaps the agreeable position for an extreme position (the bailey) to reframe the opposing party’s agreement within the more extreme argument. An example is the following hypothetical exchange:

Person 1: “The Bible says that we should be kind to the stranger among us.” (motte)

Person 2: “I agree.”

Person 1: “Then of course you must also agree that no one should ever be deported or extradited from our country. If not, then you don’t believe in the Bible!” (bailey)

Empathy is manipulatively employed in the motte for a number of baileys that afflict the nations of the world. For example, in 1987, the popular rock band U2 released a haunting song called “Mothers of the Disappeared,” written for the grieving mothers of youth who disappeared under right-wing authoritarian movements in South America during the 1970s. I consider it one of the most beautiful songs I have ever heard, and the song always achieves its intended purpose with me: leading me to feel deep mourning for the political violence of that era. Since I first heard “Mothers of the Disappeared,” I have learned more of the history and have wondered, why has not a similar song been written for the children taken from their families under the regime of Mao Tse-Tung, or for the quarter of the population of Cambodia wiped out under the Khmer Rouge? Fascist right-wing movements tend to arise in response to fear and legitimate grievances in the wake of cruel, authoritarian left-wing Marxist movements. Both Marxism and fascism exploit empathy over grievances and injustice toward specific groups as the motte for authoritarian baileys of oppression. Part of reality testing is to apply scrutiny to empathy itself and discern whether empathy is applied selectively to one group or another based on whether they align with the ideological left or right. If so, then one is not really practicing empathy, only partisan sympathy.

In a recent article for Quillette, Brian Stewart wrote a criticism of the empathy-drenched commentary of New York Times columnist Nicholas Kristof:

From his perch at America’s newspaper of record, Kristof has spent many years travelling to far-flung places ravaged by poverty, famine, genocide, and war, and rubbing his nose in the misery he finds there. These trips through landscapes of privation and atrocity have brought forth a steady stream of lugubrious dispatches documenting the world’s ills and enjoining the rest of us to do something about them.

Stewart argues that Kristof’s columns reflect no understanding of tradeoffs or unintended consequences. In his reporting on Gaza in particular, Kristof makes claims and moral judgments and avoids asking necessary questions like what Israel is facing, what Hamas intends, and what the consequences would be for different choices. Kristof speaks to the empathy of his readers, but does no reality testing.

Finally, in an example relevant to many Latter-day Saints, reflect on how LGBT+ ally groups and conferences offer messaging heavily focused on empathy, but lack any of the reality testing that might help participants see the validity of the Church’s teachings and policies. In the recent YouTube series An Inconvenient Faith (2025), church members who consider themselves LGBT+ allies resisted any kind of study that would lead them to ask: are my views actually true, and could The Church‘s teachings possibly be correct? Adapting the phrase of Paul, empathy without reality testing seems to leave us  “ever feeling and never able to come to a knowledge of the truth.”

And so, we return to the question: If empathy has possible drawbacks, then what is a positive and healthy exercise of empathy? The answer: empathy becomes a force for good only when paired with reality testing. Only then can empathy lead to human flourishing as opposed to performative partisan sympathy, moral grandstanding, and other unhelpful behaviors. 

As Edith Stein expressed, “Do not accept anything as truth that lacks love. Do not accept anything as love which lacks truth.”

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Here is the latest article in our Peacemaking Series. To read the last article: Disagreements Bring Balance: When Silence Isn’t Peace

Few moments are more defining than those shaped by deep personal betrayal. When recalling these moments, the body often reacts before the mind—muscles tighten, the stomach turns, and the memory returns with clarity. The pain may be lasting, the consequences irreversible. In such moments, two responses emerge side by side: anger and forgiveness—two gifts, one in each hand, and while both feel justified, only one can be given.

This is the essential tension at the heart of forgiveness: not a passive emotion, but an active, deliberate, sacred decision. Forgiveness is often couched in dramatic moments of intense pain and wrongdoing, but it also needs to find its way into everyday moments, like when a loved one or stranger says a careless word or performs a negligent action. These small moments of hurt, if unforgiven, can lead to a lifetime’s accumulation of tension and resentment. There is great power for both the offender and the offended in the words, I forgive you. While it is often assumed that forgiveness must be earned, Christian theology and research present a different view. Forgiveness is a gift extended not only to the offender, but also to release and heal the one who forgives.

What Forgiveness Is and Isn’t

Forgiveness is often misunderstood in its meaning and execution, carrying a wide range of meanings across individuals and cultures. Some may conclude it is unattainable before ever fully understanding what it entails. This word deserves a thoughtful unpacking before being dismissed. Clarifications of what forgiveness is and is not can be helpful. 

Forgiveness is not:

• Trusting the person who caused the wrong.
• Earned by the person who caused hurt.
• Forgetting what happened.
• Pretending the offense didn’t hurt.
• Letting the offender perpetuate the harm.
• Reconciliation, or prolonging a relationship.

Forgiveness is:

• A choice to act compassionately. 
• Beginning to feel compassion as you act compassionately.
• Given whether or not the other person shows remorse or change. 
• Something you do for you.
• A perpetual choice and not a single event.

Psychologist Everett Worthington––a leading expert on forgiveness whose research has informed much of the thinking in this article––identifies two forms of forgiveness: decisional and emotional. 

Decisional forgiveness is consciously choosing to forgive—often for our own well-being rather than for the benefit of the offender. 

Emotional forgiveness, by contrast, is when feelings of anger begin to soften into empathy and compassion.

While it is often believed emotions drive actions, research and experience suggest the opposite: choices and behaviors gradually shape feelings. Suggesting that often it may be required to act compassionately, before we feel compassion. Anger’s grip is hard and often shapes our journey with forgiveness. Anger can serve as an emotional strategy to overcome feelings of helplessness. However, as President Nelson taught, “anger never persuades,” and the sensation of control is really an illusion: change is up to the offender just as much as our decision to forgive is up to us.

Forgive For Your Own Sake

Worthington’s research shows forgiveness improves mental and physical health, lowers blood pressure, reduces anxiety, and even boosts the immune system. Forgiveness may not change the offender—but it will change the forgiver.

When we decide to release resentment, we begin to, as one Church leader put it, “rise to a higher level of self-esteem and well-being” characterized by emotional clarity and peace. Choosing to forgive doesn’t deny the pain—it simply refuses to let that pain define our path forward.

Examples of Forgiveness

At one point in early Church history, tensions ran high among members. People were hurting each other, holding grudges, and struggling to move forward. In that setting, the Lord gave a clear, striking command: His followers “ought to forgive one another.” Then He added something sobering. While God alone could decide “whom to forgive,” His disciples were not given that same privilege of discretion. They were “required” to forgive “all.”

It isn’t a suggestion. It isn’t conditional. This is a divine directive for healing and unity. The Lord didn’t ask them to ignore justice—He asked them to make room for His mercy by letting go of their desire to carry the offense any further.

Why would the Lord ask something so hard? Perhaps it is because the Lord knows that holding onto hate keeps our minds dwelling on the past and the offender. Focusing on the offense leaves no room for contemplating and engaging with His healing grace and hope in the present.

Jesus, hanging on the cross, uttered the words while looking at His torturers, “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.” In that moment, Christ modeled the highest form of forgiveness: extending compassion without having received any apology, show of remorse, or change. He recognized His abusers’ ignorance toward the depths of His pain and the extent of their own sin. Often, offenses are committed in such a state.

Even when buried by regret—when the weight of wrong choices seems too great, or the damage too deep—there is still hope. Healing doesn’t require perfection, only a willingness to turn toward the Savior. His grace reaches to infinite depths. Elder Jeffrey R. Holland tenderly reminds us, “It is not possible for you to sink lower than the infinite light of Christ’s Atonement shines.” The same is true for those who have caused wrong. They, too, remain within the reach of divine love, and those who forgive become more like Christ when hoping for their healing. 

The REACH Method

So what is to be done when someone wants to forgive, but doesn’t know how or where to begin?

Start here. The Skyline Research Institute has published a series of short and playful videos focusing on tools and tactics for Peacemaking. These videos expound principles taught in President Nelson’s address “Peacemakers Needed” by complementing them with academic theories in psychology and conflict management. This current article is one in a series of articles published through Public Square, exploring the theories taught in each video more thoroughly.

The following video teaches principles of forgiveness from the perspective of a cat learning to forgive the dog who hurt them.

As shown in the video, these steps give a simple starting place for applying the divine and well-researched principles of forgiveness:

1. Name the Hurt.
Think of the person who hurt you. Let yourself feel the pain. Ask, “What specifically hurts me about this?” Is it betrayal? Injustice? Abandonment?

2. Imagine Speaking to Them.
What would you say if they were sitting before you? Get it all out—no filters. Write it in a letter (even if you never send it).

3. Switch Seats.
Now imagine being them. What might they say? What wounds might they carry? This doesn’t excuse them—it humanizes them.

4. Picture the Two Gifts.
In front of you are two gifts: your forgiveness and your anger. Which will you give them?

This process may need to be repeated many times—that’s okay. Forgiveness is rarely a one-time event. Like any habit, the choice to act with compassion must be practiced, especially in the face of discomfort. It may feel unnatural or insincere at first, but each time we choose kindness, the action becomes a little more familiar, a little more automatic. In any given situation, forgiveness is a muscle that strengthens with use. It’s a neural pathway that, with repetition, begins to favor hope, action, and healing over the depressing and well-worn track of rumination.

If the choice to act compassionately towards an aggressor feels out of reach, recognizing the need to forgive and its benefits is a good place to start. Even aiming for forgiveness softens your heart. Desire to want to forgive.

Based on his research, Worthington developed the REACH method:

• R – Recall the hurt.
• E – Empathize with the offender.
• A – Altruistic gift of forgiveness.
• C – Commit to forgive.
• H – Hold onto forgiveness when emotions rise again.

As the video showed, REACH is enacted step by step by recalling the hurt, imagining the offender’s pain, and choosing to give the “gift” of forgiveness. 

The Choice Is Ours

The reality of pain is undeniable, and its depth is often known only to the individual and God. Life frequently confronts people with shocking and disproportionate suffering, much of it undeserved. Such experiences are not uncommon, though they remain deeply personal and often isolating.

Forgiveness does not erase the past—but it reclaims the future. It is not about denying hurt, but about refusing to let that hurt decide who we become. In a world full of real wounds and imperfect people, forgiveness offers something radical: not control over others, but healing within ourselves. Though anger may offer the illusion of power, only forgiveness frees us from the grip of the past and opens the way to peace. 

As both research and revelation affirm, forgiveness is not just a moral ideal—it is a practiced, powerful, and divine pathway toward emotional, physical, and spiritual renewal. 

The invitation remains: choose the gift of forgiveness. Give it again and again.