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It is often easier to speak about the parts of life that unfold as we hoped. I could talk all day, every day about the many good things that have come to my life since my wife and I were married. But it can be difficult and awkward to talk about the things that go wrong. Although I love talking about my marriage, it is much more difficult for me to talk about another major life event—when I returned home early from my missionary service for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints after seven months. Speaking about my early return and everything associated with it just does not come easily. That difficulty comes largely from within: at some point, I came to see returning home early as a personal failure—something that should not have happened—and that belief made the subject unusually difficult to discuss.

But what if we took a different perspective? We often talk about all the wonderful personal growth that full-term returned missionaries had while serving, but why should growth that early-returned missionaries go through after they return be any different? Of course, not all outcomes are going to be positive. Coming home early from a mission is a very challenging experience that can set a soul on a catapulting track toward self-discovery and growth. As an early returner, and now as a Ph.D. student in psychology, I was able to get funding to do a study on what causes early returned missionaries to get on that track of growth. 

My Early Return and How It Led Me to This Study

Before turning to the study itself, some personal context may be helpful. These “positive outcomes” may not show up immediately, nor do I think it’s fair to expect oneself or a loved one to cope with such a dramatic life event so easily. In one of my favorite articles, “Bereavement: An Incomplete Rite of Passage,” the author explains that someone may never entirely “get over” the loss of a loved one — they may learn to generally deal with the loss, but their perception of the experience continually shifts and evolves. I feel the same way about my early mission return. When I came back, I was almost numb. A month later, I was feigning happiness. Two months later, I was questioning my faith. Three months later, I began searching for any identity other than “early-returned missionary” that I could affix to myself, yet each “identity” I attempted to develop was more fragile than the last. My grades at Brigham Young University also suffered.

There was only one other existing academic study on early-returned missionaries. I decided to follow its lead in interviewing each person in depth rather than using survey data. Although this process limited the number of people I could involve in the study, other studies on the use of interviews for niche topics find that researchers tend to reach a sufficient sample level at about 12 interviews. The prior study I mentioned included 12 early-returned male missionaries and had questions on mission experiences, early returns, and post-mission adjustment. I wanted to expand upon this research by including women and spending more time speaking about the identity development participants had gone through since their early return and their perceptions of their future. I also remained open to other salient themes that emerged from interviews. So, I recruited 20 early-returned missionaries to participate in this in-depth study — 9 men and 11 women. I would like to stress that this was a highly emotional experience for most people, and I was extremely grateful for the opportunity to interview such wonderful people about their experiences.

Identity transformation

First, every person mentioned feeling an identity transformation in some way. One participant shared:

Honestly, I think coming home from my mission is a really big thing. It really defined who I am as a person and my understanding of church member[s], because before I thought a church member had to be someone [who] grew up in the Church, that served a mission … things like that. Then I [understood] that a church member is someone that just tries their best to be a disciple of Jesus Christ. And so that really [helped] me shape and understand the members of the Church in a broader sense and not just the typical Utah stereotypes. So, I think coming home from my mission definitely helped with that.

This sentiment resonated strongly with my own experience. Even as a missionary, I had felt that coming home early would be a condemnation for the rest of my life, rendering me always some degree of broken in church settings. Only after going through this process did I realize that it truly is impossible for anyone other than Christ to live a fully “perfect” life, and that joy comes in embracing my imperfections and Christ’s role in my redemption.

Hope for the future

Another finding was that 19 of the 20 participants mentioned an optimistic view of how their futures would develop, given their experiences as early-returned missionaries. Another participant shared:

It’s interesting because I feel less … fearful for the future because I’m like, I already have had something that has literally broken me down to lower than I thought I could be at, and I came out of it. So, it kind of gives me more confidence that whatever comes, I know I’ve been through the process before of only having God to rely on.

Personally, I feel the same way — I know that I can do all things through Christ because I have already been at my lowest, and He has lifted me up again.

Peacemaking and reconciliation

A third commonality, shown in 19 of 20 interviews, was that of peacemaking or some form of reconciliation. One early-returned missionary wrote the following in her journal while on the plane home from her mission, “My Heavenly Father is so wise in giving me an experience like this. It forces me to actually fully trust in Him, which I do. This is one of the first experiences in my life that I can’t fully plan out first.”

This was one of my favorite responses. Having a framework of trusting in God built from strongly needing to do so earlier in life can be so beneficial to one’s future. I’m aware that challenges lie in the future, both for me and this early-returned missionary, but trusting in God first above all else has provided a foundation for all of my decisions that will always yield the best outcome — even if I can’t always see it right then.

Empathy

Despite increased empathy for others not being directly referenced on the list of interview questions, the topic came up in 16 of the 20 interviews. One person said, “Had I not seen myself [at] such a low point in my life, then I wouldn’t be able to reach out to others in a similar state.”

This finding in particular is something I would love to explore deeper in future research. How amazing is it that our imperfections and difficult experiences can actually lead us to become more like Christ? Before my early return, I was of the mindset that early-returned missionaries could generally have stayed out if they had just tried harder. Only after returning early despite having given every ounce of dedication and effort to the Lord did I realize that I’d had it all wrong: I feel for people who are in similarly devastating circumstances. I wish I’d had that quality beforehand, but the empathy I developed is one of my most prized possessions, and I thank God for giving it to me.

Faith

A majority (14 out of 20) specifically mentioned having stronger faith in God or religion as a result of their early return during their interviews, while 4 specifically mentioned having weaker faith as a result of their early return. This strong majority of increased faith is encouraging. One person referring to their early return said:

Because of that, the steps I took afterward, it made me read the scriptures harder than I’ve ever read in my life, and it’s made me love just light, seeing people’s light, and the light of Christ in them. I feel like I’m able to see it so easily and I appreciate it so much because I’ve seen the darkness.

Faith is a lifelong journey, and mine has grown as I’ve appreciated the outcomes of my difficulties more and more. It really is amazing to see others appreciate the goodness of Christ even more after having some experience with darkness.

Perceptual change over time

A final theme referenced by the majority of interviewees (12 of 20) was that of perceptual change. One interviewee said, “I guess with more time that passes, I see it in a different way… So, I think it’ll always be in the back of my mind, or it’ll always be something I reference, just because it was very, very starkly different from any other experience I have in my life.”

It is hard to run away from such a formative experience, and I don’t believe it’s best to act like it didn’t happen. As with all difficulties in life, we tend to see our challenges differently with time, as we learn more about God’s love for us as individuals.

What Many Early-Returned Missionaries Still Need

There were more themes that came from these interviews, some of which included negative experiences, but those tended to be highly individual. What did seem to be uniform throughout the interviews was that these people wanted someone to talk to about their experience, but often didn’t feel that they could. One interviewee said that he didn’t have a single person to talk about his early return with — no member of his family would entertain the topic, and he didn’t feel like he could bring it up to his friends. The sense of loneliness this young man exuded was palpable.

Those close to early-returned missionaries can offer an invaluable gift: patient love and a willingness to listen without judgment. Early returners are changing and actively growing, just like you are. We have come a long way as a church community in normalizing the idea that those who might deviate from the normative experience are fully worthy of love and support, but I believe we can be even better, and in attempting to do so, can more fully serve as Christ would.

The post When a Mission Ends Early appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

Humility is not humiliation; it’s the start to something better.

What “The Day Of The Ashes” Meant

In the early medieval West the name dies cinerum—“day of ashes”—appears in the Roman books; by the later first millennium, marking the head with ash had become the way common Christians entered Lent. In 1091, Pope Urban II extended the custom at Benevento; soon liturgical books called the day Feria Quarta Cinerum (Ash Wednesday). The words were simple, the meaning older than Christendom: repentance and mortality, echoing Genesis 3:19.

The gesture sprang from Scripture’s grammar of contrition—Daniel turning “with fasting, and sackcloth, and ashes” (Daniel 9:3), Job repenting “in dust and ashes” (Job 42:6), Nineveh in sackcloth (Jonah 3). Dust was catechesis.

The Restoration’s Witness: Dust, Nothingness, Promise

If medieval Christians called us dust, Restoration scripture continues the theme—and then refuses to leave us there. King Benjamin commands disciples to “remember… the greatness of God, and your own nothingness” so they can learn to “always retain in remembrance” His goodness (Mosiah 4:11–12). Alma is blunter: “I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak” (Alma 26:12). And Helaman’s lament is bracing: “How great is the nothingness of the children of men; yea, even they are less than the dust of the earth” (Helaman 12:7–8).

This is not self‑loathing; it is spiritual realism. Dust is teachable. “If men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness,” the Lord says—not to crush, but to make “weak things become strong” (Ether 12:27). 

The Orthodox Beginning: Clean Monday

Eastern Christians start Great Lent on Clean Monday, a different tradition to enter the same period of the year. It is the first step of fasting, confession, and household “cleansing”—a positive, springlike beginning that pairs sobriety with joy. The day frames repentance not as dour exhibition but as purification, a clearing to make room for grace.

While these traditions have developed different practices, they both intuitively understand that to begin the season that ends with the glorious resurrection, we should start with humility. 

A Latter‑day Saint On‑Ramp To Easter

Modern life trains us to curate an image of greatness. The Book of Mormon’s anthropology is corrective: remember God’s greatness and our dependence, and remember covenant possibility (Mosiah 4:11–12). Moses felt it—“man is nothing”—and then saw God’s work unfold through him (Moses 1:10, 39). In other words, recognizing our nothingness is not an insult; it’s permission to be redeemed. And refusing to recognize it can prevent our redemption.

Members of The Church of Jesus Christ celebrate Easter with worship and witness but have not historically observed Ash Wednesday or Lent as formal religious seasons. 

As we seek to apply Elder Stevenson’s counsel, we don’t need to import another church’s liturgical calendar, but we would be wise to recognize the accumulated wisdom in the way they’ve chosen to celebrate the season. 

So how might Latter‑day Saint families launch an Easter season, starting from the ground, in humility?

Choose a starting day. You might key it to the first Monday several weeks before Easter (a nod to “clean” beginnings) or to a family fast day. Mark the start in family council: “Today we begin our walk to Easter.” Small, simple, said out loud.

Name the truth. Read together Moses 1:10; Mosiah 4:11; Helaman 12:7–8. Let each person finish the sentence: “Because I am dust, I will…” (serve, forgive, listen). Keep it under five minutes; keep it tender.

Consider the Metaphor. Perhaps the timing of planting in much of the northern hemisphere can give you or your family a reason to get into the dirt and dust. This could allow you to connect to the lowliness metaphor in a unique way.

Fast to make room. Perhaps make a special effort to fast on the first Sunday in March, or add an additional fast on the Sunday before or after the traditional Ash Wendesday day as a way of starting the season in humility. 

Prime the house. Borrow a line from Clean Monday: do some literal cleaning, donate gently used items, and clear a shelf for an “Easter table.” If you’re going to do spring cleaning anyway, why not find a way to connect it to the start of an Easter spiritual celebration?

Read the story. Last year, Public Square Magazine published “40 Days to Easter,” a set of readings that covered the life of Jesus Christ. This calendar or similar scripture reading traditions can begin as part of a countdown to Easter. 

We are in an exciting season. Medieval Christians were 600 years into their tradition before Ash Wednesday began to develop. Latter-day Saints are still shy of 200, and so we are purposefully considering ways to expand our traditions and point our lives toward Jesus Christ. As we consider how to celebrate the season, we should be thoughtful about what our unique faith brings, and continue to remain in conversation with our fellow Christians and the ways they have found to celebrate.

The post A Latter-day Saint Prelude to Easter appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

Almost immediately, everyone did what everyone always does when “the files” drop: they hunted names, screenshotted fragments, stitched narratives together, and treated the internet like a jury box. But even major outlets covering the release have warned that the dump is chaotic, heavily redacted, and incomplete in ways that make confident conclusions difficult—while victims and advocates have criticized the process for exposing survivors while leaving many alleged enablers opaque.

And yet, even with all that noise, something clear has emerged for Latter-day Saints: this release was a stress test for decades of anti-Mormon conspiracy storytelling—and the conspiracy didn’t show up.

The test conspiracy-peddlers didn’t expect to fail

For a long time, a certain genre of anti-Mormon commentary has insisted on two overlapping claims:

1. That there is a uniquely large, uniquely hidden sexual abuse problem inside The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, driven or protected from the top; and
2. That senior leaders are “globalists” quietly entangled in elite power networks—exactly the kind of networks epitomized by Epstein.

To be plain: there have been horrific abuse cases involving members of the Church, and those cases deserve honest reporting—not dismissal.

But the claim at issue here isn’t “abuse exists” (it does, tragically, in every sizable institution). The claim is that the Church’s top leadership is part of a shadowy sexual corruption on one side, global influence schemes on the other.

If that were true, this was the moment it should have detonated.

Instead, it didn’t.

A worldwide net—and nothing where critics promised a catch

The whole point of an Epstein document dump, in the public imagination, is that it catches people from “all kinds of quarters.” And it has: major coverage has focused on public figures, political operators, and celebrity relationships; the whole world is sifting and speculating.

So what about the Church? Where are the receipts that a certain corner of the internet has promised for years?

In the Utah-adjacent reporting that’s surfaced from the latest release, the most concrete “Mormon-world” items being discussed are mundane and geographically local—things like travel notes involving Park City, and paying a likely victim’s tuition for Brigham Young University–Idaho, and someone writing to Epstein mentioned Elder Dale G. Renlund was presenting at a health conference.

If you tell the world for decades that senior Church leaders are entangled in the very elite sexual machinery the Epstein story represents, then the largest public release of Epstein-related material should show it. Instead, it shows, at most, the kind of peripheral, often banal “Utah shows up in a massive dataset” traces you’d expect when you dump millions of pages spanning years and continents.

The “most damning” line—and why it still doesn’t land

Critics have understandably tried to elevate a single muddled excerpt—circulating online from an email labeled “EFTA02437604”—as the long-awaited smoking gun. In that excerpt, Epstein appears to write (in a typo-riddled sentence) about “wayne owens … from utah,” references “pons and cold fusion,” and includes the phrase “had [to/ot] meet with the head of the mormon church.”

Epstein suggested in 2009 that in 1989, when he argued against funding cold fusion research, he met with the “head of the mormon church,” presumably because such funding would have gone to Utah.  

No name for who he meant. The memory is twenty years old. Not even a claim that the meeting was desired by church leaders. And the topic was mundane decades before Epstein’s sexual abuse networks were known. 

I imagine some will attempt to squeeze continued criticism out of the line. But what we have been promised by the anti-Mormon conspiracists for years clearly did not exist. In fact, the Church and its leaders have remained so clear of Epstein and its associates that it should broadly be seen as a positive for their moral character. 

Why this should change the conversation—on both sides

If you’re a critic, this moment is an invitation to intellectual honesty. The Epstein files—massive, messy, and full of all kinds of names—were supposed to be the hammer blow. Instead, they have not delivered what the most confident anti-Mormon allegations promised.

And if you’re a believer, this moment is not an excuse for a victory lap. There are real victims who must remain the focus of care and attention. And remember, the data remains partial and contested. We shouldn’t claim this means more than it does. 

The Epstein files—whatever else one thinks about this sprawling, troubled, often infuriating release—have provided a rare public opportunity to compare conspiracy claims against a truly enormous body of material. And when it comes to the most sensational anti-Mormon accusations about senior Church leaders—secret globalist schemes, Epstein ties, sexual impropriety—the result is not “finally, we got them.” 

The result is: nothing. At the end of the day, behind all the sturm and drang was just normal people. 

That doesn’t make the Church above scrutiny. We all have much work to do in continuing to help victims in every corner. But perhaps we can now do it based on the truth. It should make everyone—members and critics alike—more reluctant to trade in insinuation when the moral stakes are this high.

The post The Conspiracy That Wasn’t appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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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.

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.

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.”

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.

The post The Continuous, Habitual Struggle for Peace appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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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.

The post The Final Lesson of Peacemaking: Ask Better Questions appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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What is power? Even without a formal philosophical framework, it is easily recognizable in a multitude of dynamics: physical power, electrical power, political power, military power, economic power, intellectual power, social power, persuasive power, spiritual power, and more.

In a conflict, what can be done when it seems the other party has all the power? As Christians, should we desire power? And if so, what kind of power is righteous, and what kind is destructive?

The Series

This is the second-to-last article in the 12-part series published by Public Square Magazine and written by the team at TheFamilyProclamation.org. Each article expands on the ideas from 12 short, 1–2 minute videos in the playful yet poignant Peacemaking Series. 

This week’s video, “What is Power?”, offers practical suggestions for navigating the power dynamics inherent in conflict resolution. The video uses the visual analogy of two children playing baseball to illustrate power plays that emerge in conflict. Its dual purpose is to help those who feel powerless recognize the power they do have, and to caution those who abuse power that they bring upon themselves natural consequences because of their abuse. 

Power Defined: Control Over Resources

“What is power?” the video asks. “Perhaps the simplest definition is the ability to control a resource.” While this simplifies a vast and complex topic—one debated by Western thinkers from Plato and Aristotle to Locke, Marx, Foucault, Piaget, and Bourdieu—it provides an accessible entry point. This thesis seeks to provide an accessible, utilitarian definition that helps a person recognize their own power.

Viewed through this lens, a sense of powerlessness stems from a lack of control or an ignorance of or undervaluing of personal resources. Resources are not only external, like money, property, information, or authority, but internal as well: like participation, patience, integrity, ingenuity, empathy, motivation, faith, or moral conviction. Increasing one’s power becomes a matter of recognizing available resources and learning to exercise mastery over them.

Mastery and Self-Control

But what does it mean to be a “master”? Consider Christ, who taught, “Neither be ye called masters: for one is your Master, even Christ. But he that is greatest among you shall be your servant. And whosoever shall exalt himself shall be abased; and he that shall humble himself shall be exalted” (Matthew 23:10-12). True mastery is not domination, but compassion and self-control.

Christian discipleship emphasized such power of persuasion emanating from an internal purity of charity. We love God because He first loved us (1 John 4:19). Charity is a gift from God, yet manifests itself within a disciplined inner self (see 1 Corinthians 13:4-8). There are resonances of this principle beautifully expressed in ancient Asian philosophies. Confucius illustrated that an empire’s “good government” radiates out from the individual citizen’s self-mastery of heart, thoughts, and knowledge. Similarly, the Taoist believes “mastering others is strength; mastering yourself is true power.”

The Baseball Analogy: Play as Power

Patience, long-suffering, and charity are not merely moral virtues—they are practical strategies that make influence sustainable. Power emerging from coercion or fear may achieve immediate results, but will eventually fail.

In the video, a larger child wishes to play baseball with a smaller friend. When the larger child’s aggressive play causes an injury, the smaller friend no longer wants to participate. This simple example illustrates a profound principle: abusive systems of power eventually lose the participation of those they seek to dominate. Tyrants are overthrown; corrupt institutions collapse; cheaters stop getting invited to play. 

The childhood adage “It doesn’t matter whether you win or lose; it’s how you play the game” captures a deep truth about sustainable power: Those who respect others’ agency and fairness and elicit joy inspire continued engagement.

Dr. Jordan Peterson illustrates life as a series of successive and increasingly complicated games. While winning is important, whether or not an individual wins the immediate game isn’t the most important objective. Fair-play is the quality of an individual who engages effectively in the “meta-game”; they demonstrate they are a person worth playing with and therefore attract playmates. Someone who wins repeatedly but fails to play fair will eventually exhaust their playmates. This might explain why someone can “win” some games (like the financial game of life), but “lose” in other games (like the relationship game of life).

The solution is mutuality: power is most durable when all parties willingly participate. Participation is power. And, play motivates participation. Systems perpetuate themselves when participation is voluntary, and relationships thrive when engagement is balanced and mutually beneficial. Whether we “win or lose” in any particular interaction is often secondary to whether our behavior encourages ongoing participation and trust. 

Using Simple Resources

Power often begins not with influence over others, but with the careful stewardship of the resources already at one’s disposal. Consider William Kamkwamba, who, as a young boy in Malawi, built a windmill from scrap materials, bringing electricity to his village through ingenuity and persistence. Malala Yousafzai, despite attempted murder and continued death threats, risks her own safety to insist on women’s right to education—wielding her voice and persistence as resources to inspire global change. Mother Teresa used the simplest acts—tending the sick, feeding the hungry—to exert a quiet but transformative influence over those around her. Harriet Tubman’s courage and careful planning allowed her to lead countless enslaved people to freedom using her knowledge, relationships, and tireless action as her tools.

In each case, these individuals did not possess vast power in conventional terms like money, authority, athleticism, or status. And, in most of these examples, there were even adversarial individuals who utilized all the resources they had to try to stop these good-doers. But these impressive individuals got scrappy using what resources they did have, countering their antagonists, and succeeding in their goals. Their strength came from recognizing the resources they did have, like skills, relationships, knowledge, moral courage, and choosing to act. These examples demonstrate that sustainable power grows from within, from conscience, compassion, the willingness to act, and inviting others to willingly engage in the pursuit of justice, truth, and good. 

Power and the Christian Perspective

The gospel reframes our understanding of power. Power is not inherently good or evil. When aligned with God’s will, we become powerful in healing relationships, strengthening communities, and fostering enduring peace. Christ Himself never sought domination. He healed, taught, and served—exercising influence through love, persuasion, and example rather than force.

Influence rooted in persuasion, patience, and love aligns human relationships with divine law, creating sustainable cooperation and peace. When everyone wants to play, the game is on.

The post The Paradox of Power and the Secret Strength of Meekness appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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Gérald Caussé, the French-born Presiding Bishop of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, was announced Thursday, November 6, 2025, as the Church’s newest apostle. He fills the vacancy in the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles that followed the passing of President Russell M. Nelson, a transition that prompted the reorganization of senior leadership of the Church.

Years before his name was known globally, Caussé told a simple story about ministering that sums up his approach to discipleship. In a 2023 university devotional, he described being assigned as a ministering brother to a man who had just been rebaptized and was navigating divorce, financial strain, and deep discouragement. Caussé did not offer a programmatic solution; instead, he visited, listened, prayed, and saw—saw who the man could become in Christ. Over time, consistent fellowship and the man’s own faith in the Savior brought steady change. Caussé used the experience to teach a principle he has repeated often: effective ministry begins when we look at others as the Lord sees them and act in faith on their divine potential.

Gérald Jean Caussé was born May 20, 1963, in Bordeaux, France. He married Valérie Lucienne Babin in 1986; they are the parents of five children. He holds a master’s degree in business from ESSEC Business School near Paris. Before entering full-time Church service, he built a career in the retail and food distribution sector, including leadership roles at the Carrefour Group and as a general manager and board member at Pomona, a leading French food distributor.

His Church service has spanned local and global assignments: elders quorum president, bishop’s counselor, stake president in Paris, Area Seventy, and then General Authority Seventy beginning in 2008. In 2012 he was called as first counselor in the Presiding Bishopric and, in 2015, became the 15th Presiding Bishop in the Church’s history—the first for whom English is a second language and among the few presiding bishops born outside the United States. From that office he oversaw the Church’s worldwide temporal and humanitarian operations, including welfare, bishops’ storehouses, and humanitarian partnerships.

Caussé is also an accomplished pianist. With Italian composer and conductor Nicolas Giusti he released two albums of sacred piano duets—Joyful (2019) and Noël (2020)—a creative sidelight that hints at how often he uses art and music to teach about the Savior.

In his recent ministry, Caussé has emphasized a number of important themes. 

Keeping a sense of wonder. In general conference he has urged Latter-day Saints to resist spiritual complacency and “marvel at the wonders of the gospel,” encouraging daily scripture study, prayer, and a fresh awareness of the Savior’s hand. The theme runs through one of his best-known messages, “Is It Still Wonderful to You?” where he linked spiritual awe to spiritual strength. 

The Church is about people. In another conference address, he said plainly that the Church’s strength “comes from the daily actions of millions of [the Lord’s] disciples” who care for one another. Programs and buildings matter only insofar as they lift people. That people-first lens has shaped the way he talks about local priesthood quorums, Relief Society, and ward councils—and, notably, the way he has led as Presiding Bishop. 

Temporal service as spiritual discipleship. Under Caussé’s stewardship, the Church has increasingly reported on its global humanitarian work. The 2024 Caring for Those in Need summary detailed US$1.45 billion in welfare and humanitarian assistance, 3,836 projects, and efforts spanning 192 countries and territories—a scale he frames as a natural outgrowth of the two great commandments. In public addresses this year, he has described service not only as a Christian duty but as a unifying force that blesses families, communities, and even businesses. 

Whole discipleship—body and spirit. In a BYU devotional during the pandemic, Caussé taught that happiness grows when we harmonize the spiritual and temporal dimensions of life—in other words, when covenants, character, and healthy rhythms of living reinforce each other. That integrated view is characteristic of a leader who has spent years bridging spiritual purposes with temporal stewardship. 

Faith with forward vision. Speaking to missionaries in 2024, he taught that “a vision toward the future is an act of faith,” outlining three kinds of trust: faith in oneself as an instrument in God’s hands, faith in the divine potential of the people we meet, and faith in Jesus Christ and His Atonement. That framework echoes the ministering story above and anchors his frequent invitations to see others as the Savior does.

Stewardship and pioneer values for a global church. Caussé has linked Latter-day Saint pioneer heritage to contemporary responsibilities: caring for the earth, serving neighbors, promoting education, and being peacemakers. These values, he argues, help make communities “better places for all” and align with the global expansion of the Church’s humanitarian and self-reliance efforts.

For journalists and observers, Caussé’s call illustrates several dynamics shaping Latter-day Saint leadership in the mid-21st century. First, it underscores an increasingly international and multilingual senior leadership pool—a reflection of the Church’s growth and its emphasis on taking the name of Jesus Christ to “every nation, kindred, tongue, and people.” Second, it brings to the Quorum a leader whose portfolio has blended the temporal and the spiritual at a global scale. He has been a primary public voice for the Church’s humanitarian transparency in recent years, explaining how fast-offering assistance, bishops’ storehouses, and international partnerships work in practice.

Third, his recurring themes—wonder in the gospel, seeing others’ divine potential, disciplined service, and forward-looking faith—are congruent with the Quorum’s apostolic mandate to bear testimony of Jesus Christ and to strengthen Saints wherever they live. His European background and bridge-building ministry suggest he will continue to speak comfortably to both lifelong members and seekers, in language that connects doctrine to daily life. And his inclination to teach with art and music will likely continue to surface in settings both formal and informal.

As Latter-day Saints around the world sustain a new apostle, Caussé’s record hints at how he will serve: by keeping the focus on the Savior, seeing people one by one, and inviting the Church to move forward in faith—with eyes open to the wonders of the gospel and hands ready to serve.

The post Who is Gérald Caussé, Our New Apostle? appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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The policy paradox can be summarized this way: what is right for the one may not be right for the many, and what is right for the many often is not right for the one. Parents face it at the dinner table, leaders face it in government and the Church, and we all face it when our personal convictions seem to clash with collective expectations.

Human nature compels us to force a resolution of paradox with human hands (Daniel 2:45), but this often leads to misdirected frustration. However, with a new perspective we can receive a ‘greater portion of the word,’ as Alma taught, coming to ‘know the mysteries of God’ more fully (Alma 12:9–11). We will gain spiritual contentment and peace, despite worldly dissonance trying to force resolution masked as justice.

Let’s explore why the one-many tension persists, how to approach it through a faithful perspective, analyze a specific case study, and conclude with practices for peacemakers. 

Why the One-Many Tension Persists

Some tend to favor what is right for the one, while others have a natural preference to prioritize what is right for the many. This tension will continue to persist amid our surrounding global and personal challenges. The following illustration shows this tug and pull with a question mark in the middle.

Understanding why this tension persists helps us see that it is not a problem to solve, but a condition to understand. The next step, then, is to explore how faith helps us hold that tension without losing peace.

A Faithful Way to Hold Policy Tension

The policy paradox can be understood through intellectual, emotional, and experiential approaches. We use both mind and heart to seek knowledge, righteous judgment, and wisdom. In the visual below, notice how our individual approach to understanding develops into a more experiential level when we are surrounded by family and a covenant community.

Experiential understanding helps open our minds to behold the face of God and connect with our sisters and brothers who were “prepared to come forth in the due time of the Lord to labor in his vineyard” (D&C 67:10; 138:56). Through meekness and peace, we resist the impulse to resolve tension without an eternal perspective.

As we enter the presence of the Savior, full of charity, we recognize how it is possible for the “many and the one” to receive light and patience. Which lens or lenses of knowledge do we bring to the policy-making table as we analyze decisions from Church leaders, past, present, and future (John 7:24)? How can an individual with unique needs and desires that seem to conflict with the needs and desires of the broader community gain peace as the controversy within the paradox seems never to end?

As we truly behold the Savior and His trust in us, we can navigate global variables with a refined calibration of perspective through the still small voice of the Holy Ghost. The policy paradox through calibration of justice and mercy has been beautifully described by BYU law professor Shima Baughman. Shima gives examples of sentencing from criminal court judges who change their approach when considering individual cases compared to judges who approach sentencing through the lens of viewing the masses. When I listened to her powerful witness, her words brought to my mind Ammon’s approach to Lamoni’s father, imbued with charity and eternal perspective, seeking to individually calibrate justice and mercy for the “one”, while simultaneously considering the needs of the “many” (Alma 20). Shima clearly describes a vision of justice and mercy that is virtuous, praiseworthy, and of good report.

Further, we could debate the motives of Alma the Elder and Mosiah in their inspired non-linear “policy” journey in seeking to establish eternal principles of justice and mercy in Mosiah 26. Alma was troubled and went to Mosiah to apply the policy, but Mosiah “said unto Alma: Behold, I judge them not; therefore I deliver them into your hands to be judged.” Alma again had to go back to pouring out his whole soul to God to understand what was right for the one and what was right for the many, putting Alma in an “impossible” situation. And yet, with God, all things are possible (Matthew 19:26). 

This soul-driven reality is the essence of the policy paradox folks often can not see until they personally experience and willingly participate and refract light, patience, and capital “T”ruth through a crystal prism of pure intelligence, a piercing angle of humility. Humility brings peace, which is a vital prevention as we sometimes calibrate the definition of law, doctrine, policy, or principle incorrectly, and at times continue to be distracted from a higher and holier understanding. For example, in Alma 1, notice how the term “law” is defined. It seems to be understood differently at different times according to the “many,” established laws acknowledged by the people, as well as the “one,” where Gideon had to deal with Nehor’s false interpretation of the policy paradox. 

Oftentimes, the many can overwhelm the needs of the “one,” and sometimes the needs of the one can misdirect the needs of the “many,” thus the paradox of policy. Parents try to respect a child’s needs while balancing the needs of the entire family. The burden of leadership is on the parent (Numbers 11:17; Isaiah 48:17; Abraham 1:18). I believe being a parent is an experiential education in the policy paradox, where children may be too easily distracted from principles as they narrowly focus on the “policy” decisions through an incessant lens of assumed unfairness from a parent. This aligns with Elder Kim B. Clark’s teachings on the purpose of deep learning: to experience joy, and, I would add, gratitude by faith. The longer I am a parent, the more I gain a deeper intellectual, emotional, and experiential understanding, peace, and gratitude, ameliorating past perceived unfairness from my parents when I was a young adolescent. 

The Case Study 2015-2019 and the D.E.E.P. Path

As an example, let’s analyze the policy from November 2015 specific to baptism for children of same-sex couples. What was right for the many? What was right for the one? Later, in April 2019, how did the policy change—and what remained the same? This leads us to recognize the journey of what I call D.E.E.P. learning within the policy paradox for individuals, one by one.

D–Discouragement (disorientation, depression, doubt, despair)

E–Engagement (wrestling, acting, pondering, proving)

E–Enablement (hope, faith)

P–Power (joy, gratitude by faith and by experience)

When the policy was announced and broadly disseminated in 2015, my circle of loved ones struggled deeply. I felt their pain. Although I couldn’t fully understand everything they were experiencing, I felt peace that the Savior knew and understood the timing and the D.E.E.P. learning journey of each person from each orbit, one by one, directly or indirectly affected by the policy.

Obviously, President Nelson had taught about becoming peacemakers for several decades before this message. Time is only measured unto man (Alma 40:8). For me, it was a quiet reminder that the Lord guides His Church through His servants and each of His children—line upon line, precept upon precept, perspective upon perspective.

For some, this “fresh view” of eternal principles (what stays the same), policies (dynamic), practices (endless refractions of interpretations), and paradox may be seen as giving an excuse. Yet, as I’ve tried to listen to all sides of “middle of the road” to extreme perspectives towards the “reversal” of this policy, I keep feeling peace, light, and even greater charity towards those who drafted, reviewed, and wrote the policy originally, those who performed the research to understand patterns of exceptions by the First Presidency between 2015 and 2019, those who drafted, reviewed, and wrote the updated policy, and those who felt their hearts break during 2015 and 2019 with a “fresh sting,” mixed with love for their brothers and sisters directly affected by the policy. 

This has been a D.E.E.P. learning experience for me that has carried me into intellectual, emotional, and experiential highs and lows. I felt the sting of discouragement and disorientation in 2015. Like in the movie Inside Out, where joy and sadness coexist, I engaged and wrestled with the policy, prayed and pondered deeply over several years, trying to keep an open heart to those hurting and the constant companionship of the Spirit of the Lord. I felt enabled by the Lord to rise to higher mountains of perspective that I couldn’t have received without His power and peace. 

The original bright-line rules offered clarity, but all rules are inherently both overinclusive and underinclusive. The Savior, as Lawgiver, gives grace and power within and between the continuum of over- and under-inclusiveness.

In each policy decision, we are offered refractions of perspectives that can keep us humble and “equal evidence” for and against our preferred policy approaches, while we are “perched precariously between sets of demands held in dynamic tension.” Humility and meekness toward the paradox of policy provides a “ridiculously inefficient” approach to divinity, but it is nonetheless effective and imbued with eternal strength.

This case study shows how policies can be both inspired and imperfect, painful and refining. So how do we, as disciples, live within such paradoxes day to day?

Practices for Peacemakers

Where will you go next? For your personal intellectual, emotional, spiritual, and experiential education, you can start by analyzing the journals of those who went before us, both our ancestors and those from ancient scripture. The policy paradox influences us to seek those transformed perspectives, to see how something that feels wrong for the individual might serve the larger community, or how something that blesses the community might need adjustment for the one. Thank heavens the paradox is not resolved by human hands and human minds, for it would frustrate our learning journey to become more like our Heavenly Parents. In my personal orbit, I have learned an effective way to learn the policy paradox experientially is by becoming a parent, to gain a fresh view of how our Heavenly Parents navigate this tension with each of us.

The paradox is not an obstacle to faith—it’s a training ground for intellectual, emotional, spiritual, and experiential discipleship. When we accept and learn from tension, we begin to see the Lord’s hand not just in the outcome of policies but also in the process of wrestling over them.

And so my invitation is simple: be humble. List the ancient, modern, and personal policies that shape your life. Then, prayerfully, apply the paradox lens. Seek to understand your neighbor and your neighborhood and how the Lord continues to guide both. The process will not always be quick. But if you walk it with the Savior, the past, present, and future will become one in peace (John 14:27). The paradox will move from an idea in your mind to a truth in your soul. And in that transformation, you will see not only the one and the many, you will see Him.

The post When Faith Meets Policy: Finding Harmony in Holy Tension appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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I served as the Primary music leader for many years, and over time, I watched as the children clearly indicated with their smiles and enthusiasm which Primary songs were among their favorites. It is no surprise that the kids cherish Janice Kapp Perry’s A Child’s Prayer.

Adult members love this Primary song too, perhaps because the lyrics express the fragility of our faith.  As the devout Catholic philosopher Charles Taylor points out, in our secular world, religious faith is continually “cross-pressured;” that is, non-believing scientific materialists frequently call the veracity of our religious beliefs into question.

A Child’s Prayer begins with two sobering rhetorical questions:  

Heavenly Father, are you really there?
And do you hear and answer every child’s prayer?

The first stanza concludes with a hopeful tone:

Some say that heaven is far away,
But I feel it close around me as I pray.

As with the Primary children, in reaching toward heaven in this way, all our prayers, at least in some measure, constitute an attempt to confirm that God is really there.

Let’s review the concept of prayer and the central role that prayer plays in the life of a Latter-day Saint. Let’s consider what kinds of prayer there are. What do the scriptures teach us about how to pray?  And perhaps most importantly, what does it mean for a prayer to be answered?

Although we often think of prayer generically, prayer takes many forms. Prayers of thanksgiving, such as the blessings we say over our food, constitute the more quotidian types of prayer. Liturgical prayers, the most formal category, are recited in rote form as part of our worship services.  Liturgical prayers project a mystical quality, reminding us of the miracles we are contemplating. That we recount rote prayers at baptisms, the temple endowment, and the blessing of the sacrament reinforces our belief that God is mindful of these ordinances, having set forth specific language for us to hear in connection with them, that “they may always have His spirit to be with them” (Doctrine and Covenants 20:76-79).

All these varieties of prayer are familiar to us, but it is petitionary prayer, perhaps, that is our most common conception of prayer. These are prayers in which we petition Heavenly Father for specific blessings, hoping that He will grant us the righteous desire of our hearts. Pleading for a loved one to be healed of a serious illness, asking for success with a new job application, or imploring for a successful pregnancy—all these are examples of petitionary prayers.

Many of our petitionary prayers are not answered in the way we would hope. Consider the countless millions of prayers offered up in times of deep human despair that appear to go unanswered. Prayers from Auschwitz, Poland, during World War II, and from the New Orleans slave auction in the Antebellum South are chilling examples. Our beliefs assure us that God hears such prayers, but He often seems to answer them in ways we do not expect and cannot understand. This is why it is important to consider what it means for a prayer to be answered.

The scriptures clearly outline the methods, contours, and boundary conditions of prayer. Alma taught us to “counsel with the Lord in all thy doings” (Alma 37:39); his colleague Amulek reminded us that Alma’s admonition extends to prayer over temporal things: “Cry unto him when ye are in your fields, yea, over all your flocks …” and “… Cry unto him over the crops of your fields, that ye may prosper in them” (Alma 34:20 & 24). We learn from Enos that sometimes it is necessary to spar spiritually with our Father in Heaven. Enos recorded, “I will tell you of the wrestle which I had before God” (Enos 1).

Elsewhere in the New Testament, Paul helps us understand that sometimes in our extremity, we are bruised and battered, finding ourselves speechless at the hour of prayer. In his letter to the Romans, Paul explains that in such times of despair: “… we know not what we should pray for … but the Spirit maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered” (Romans 8:26). Sometimes we commune with God by opening our hearts to Him without saying a word, with “groanings that cannot be uttered.”

The Epistle of James succinctly summarizes what the scriptures teach about prayer: The “fervent prayer of the righteous availeth much” (James 5:16).

Examples from the scriptures of first prayers are especially instructive. Joseph Smith’s initial foray into praying out loud was truly remarkable. From the “boy’s first uttered prayer,” we learn that God lives, that Jesus is the Christ, and that a restoration of the gospel was at hand. Joseph Smith’s first prayer was surely among the most important prayers ever formed by the tongue of man. Following the boy prophet’s example, we should take to heart the admonition that “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God” (James 1:5).

The inaugural prayer of King Lamoni’s Father, recorded in the Book of Mormon, is another poignant example of a first prayer. Upon introduction to the gospel by Aaron, one of the missionary sons of Mosiah, the powerful and worldly king articulates his very first prayer. In truly striking humility, he prays that “if there is a God,” as Aaron had assured him, “I will give away all my sins to know thee” (Alma 22:18). In this fascinating pronouncement, the ancient American king summarizes the ultimate purpose of prayer: to know God and thereby give away all our sins. How ironic to have a heathen, Lamanite king teach us so eloquently on this point of doctrine. Sometimes burgeoning faith is faith in its purest form.  

A unique feature of personal prayer relates to the intrinsic honesty that inevitably accompanies this private dialogue with God. When we kneel in secret prayer before the all-seeing eye of God, no pretense or deception is possible. We are completely exposed in the naked reality of our imperfections. Knowing this, our private prayers take on a no-nonsense quality that is perhaps unparalleled in other arenas of human discourse.

The 19th-century American author and literary critic Mark Twain famously emphasized this truism about prayer in his iconic novel The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. At a key juncture in the story, Huck considers promising God that, going forward, he will change his wicked ways and do the right thing. But being honest with himself, he ultimately concludes that his commitment is not earnest and that he cannot deceive God in any case.  

“I was trying to make my mouth SAY I would do the right thing and the clean thing,” Huck says, “… but deep down in me I knowed it was a lie, and He knowed it. You can’t pray a lie—I found that out” (Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn).

The context of this scene is complex; Huckleberry was already doing “the right thing.” But he made the essential point nonetheless. That we cannot pray a lie means that our dialogue with God can cut to the chase and be brutally honest and sometimes painfully authentic.

This humble quest to live a holy life, as reflected in the aspirations of The Lord’s Prayer, stands in stark contrast to the puffed-up confidence in the arm of flesh we see in our secular world. The militant atheists of our day point a scornful, derisive finger at those who pray, asserting that prayer is a silly, superstitious act, likening prayer to black magic or a sorcerer’s spell. In these criticisms, these sanctimonious nay-sayers of prayer unwittingly reveal a key element at the foundation of true prayer.  The spells of black magic in literature and legend typically involve a deal with the devil, in which the petitioner agrees to sell his soul in exchange for fortune, power, or fame.  

True prayer, in stark contrast, necessarily requires a promise on the part of the petitioner to live a holier life, one that is more full of love and honor, compassion and sacrifice. Rather than selling one’s soul as in black magic, true prayer is an effort to perfect it. In this sense, prayer is indeed magical. Perhaps this is the main reason that the Book of Mormon reminds us that the “evil spirit teacheth not a man to pray, but teacheth him that he must not pray” (2 Nephi 32:8). The adversary seeks to prevent the soul-perfecting magic of prayer from happening.

So what does it mean for a prayer to be answered? There are, of course, many responses to this thought-provoking question. There is no doubt that many petitionary prayers are answered as we hope.  The God we worship is a loving God. We sometimes receive, as the Psalmist refers to them, “tender mercies” (Psalms 25:6), and as did the Old Testament’s Gideon, “dry fleeces” on the dew-soaked ground (Judges 6:39).

Our God “is a God of miracles” (2 Nephi 27:23). He will sometimes do great works among us, as He did when he delivered Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego from Nebuchadnezzar’s fiery furnace (Daniel 3).  But many times the hoped-for blessings do not materialize, and the fiery furnace burns on—when the loved one’s illness is not cured, the hoped-for job offer does not come, the longed-for pregnancy is not realized. These are the times when answering the question “What does it mean for a prayer to be answered?” takes on special significance. Among the many answers that one could offer, perhaps chief among them is that a prayer is answered when a soul is transformed through prayer.

The prayers we say over our food simply illustrate this assertion. When we say a blessing before our meals, we don’t think that something miraculous happens to the food. The miracle is taking place in our hearts. Through a brief prayer over “our daily bread,” we acknowledge the bounty of the earth, this life as a gift, that “in him we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28). When said earnestly, such a prayer changes us a little for the better, reminding us that “man shall not live by bread alone” (Matthew 4:4).

Let’s return now to the Primary children and their beloved song, A Child’s Prayer:

Heavenly Father, I remember now

Something that Jesus told disciples long ago:

“Suffer the children to come to me.”

Father, in prayer I’m coming now to thee.

Pray, he is there;

Speak, he is list’ning.

You are his child;

His love now surrounds you.

He hears your prayer;

He loves the children.

Of such is the kingdom, the kingdom of heav’n.

God’s ways are often inscrutable to His creatures, but we can be reassured that He hears our prayers and answers them in ways that always bless us over the long haul. Earnest prayer transforms us. Speak, He is listening.

The post Heavenly Father, Are You Really There? On What It Means for a Prayer to Be Answered appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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In our polarized culture, it has become commonplace to demonize or ridicule anyone who holds a different perspective. Such an approach, however, is inconsistent with the Savior’s example and teachings. I was struck recently with the following guidance from a revelation given to Joseph Smith: 

He that speaketh⁠, whose spirit is contrite, whose language is meek and edifieth⁠, the same is of God if he obey mine ordinances (Doctrine and Covenants 52:15). 

Do these traits characterize the media we consume? Do they characterize our own speech? 

As we ponder such vital questions, it is important not only to consider this verse in isolation and in the abstract. Concrete examples play an important role in helping us to define and visualize these traits. The Savior is the perfect example of these principles, as He is in all things. He acknowledged His dependence on the Father, taught the Father’s teachings, and did His will in all things. 

But what does that look like in the 21st century? Christ’s example remains relevant to us, but it can be hard to visualize how He might speak in our culture, the norms of which differ tremendously from those of the first-century Middle East. There is not always a clear or obvious answer to the question “What would Jesus do?” 

However, one of the messages of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is that He has not left us with only ancient examples. He lives. He continues to call prophets and apostles. Through them, He gives us both teachings and examples that help us to come to know Him. Any of the Latter-day prophets and Apostles are excellent examples of the principles identified above.  

I have learned a great deal about them from President Jeffrey R. Holland. In the nearly thirty-one years in which he has served in the Quorum of the Twelve, he has given sixty sermons at General Conference. Studying the content of his sermons has helped me awaken to faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Studying the style of his sermons has given me important insights into how I can apply the Savior’s teachings and example in the way I speak.   

President Holland’s speaking style is distinctive partly because of his agonistic tone. Agonistic comes from the Greek word, ἀγών, anglicized as “agon,” which means a struggle, contest, or conflict. We use this root in English when we refer to the main character of a story as a protagonist and the one who opposes him or her as the antagonist. In most of his sermons, President Holland sets up an antagonist that he battles with his words. I can identify an antagonist in forty-eight out of his sixty General Conference addresses. The sense of struggle makes for an exciting speaking style and probably contributes to the fact that his sermons are well-loved by many members of the Church, myself included. He has memorably taught and testified about battling against doubt, lust, sexual immorality, envy, feelings of being abandoned by God, existential meaninglessness, dismissive attitudes about mental health problems, perfectionism, apathy for the poor, the social trend of fatherlessness, unrealistic standards of beauty for women, and the idea that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is not Christian. 

One of his repeated targets is rote religious practice, going through the motions without real or complete devotion, an attitude he battled in his second General Conference as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve in 1995, in two different sermons about the Church’s programs for seeing to the needs of its members, one in 2016 and the other in 2018, and in his most recent General Conference address in April 2025. Variations on this theme show up throughout the years in addresses that rebuke a lack of focus on Christ, “comfortable Christianity,” and cynicism that prevents complete devotion. 

President Holland’s choices of antagonists are instructive. His antagonist is never a person or group of people, but always an attitude, misconception, or sin. His agonistic approach does not excite anger at external enemies. Rather, it encourages introspection that leads to personal reformation. He reminds people of the importance of their commitments and creates a sense of urgency. He presents a positive agon, one that builds up (“edifies”) rather than a destructive one that turns people against each other.

In fact, President Holland tends to avoid referring to Satan at all. Only in that 2011 sermon, “We Are All Enlisted,” does he use the name Satan in his own words. Any other time he has used that name in General Conference, it is embedded in a quotation from another source. In the rare times that he does reference the devil, President Holland prefers using the pre-mortal name Lucifer, or titles such as “the adversary,” “arch deceiver,” “the father of all lies,” and, most colorfully, the bilingual, “el diablo, the diabolical one, the father of lies and lust.” Other times, he refers to him in general terms, for example, “remember that there is a force in the universe determined to oppose every good thing you try to do.” He has never made Satan an antagonist. He merely warns of the adversary’s role in encouraging sin and negative attitudes and the consequences of succumbing to temptation. President Holland has never set himself up as a champion who engages the adversary in single combat. Such a stance would be prideful and would forget the fact that it is our Savior who eternally bruised the serpent’s head. In Latter-day Saint popular culture, however, we have sometimes assigned President Holland the role of champion, including in a meme that circulated a few years ago that says, “When Satan goes to sleep at night, he checks under his bed for Elder Holland.” While amusing, this meme presents a characterization of President Holland that he himself deliberately avoids. I believe that we should follow his example both in not presenting him in such a role and in not presuming it for ourselves. We cannot fight with Satan as we would fight with a mortal enemy. The true struggle is internal. We win only by practicing and teaching repentance, faith in Christ, and obedience to His laws and ordinances.  

While President Holland frequently wrestles with an antagonist, his tone is not typically combative. In twelve of his General Conference sermons, he totally avoids an agonistic approach. He has spoken on motherhood twice in General Conference, and both times he did not identify or battle an antagonist. It seems to me that, in this case, an agon with sin would have distracted from the powerful tribute to women and the Savior. Such reasoning also applies to what seems to me his most uncharacteristic sermon, “Songs Sung and Unsung.” A plea for unity, this message culminates with the following passage: 

And someday I hope a great global chorus will harmonize across all racial and ethnic lines, declaring that guns, slurs, and vitriol are not the way to deal with human conflict. The declarations of heaven cry out to us that the only way complex societal issues can ever be satisfactorily resolved is by loving God and keeping His commandments, thus opening the door to the one lasting, salvific way to love each other as neighbors. 

It makes sense to avoid even metaphorical conflict in a message about belonging that decries divisive rhetoric. President Holland knows when to tread lightly. 

Most of President Holland’s non-agonistic talks were given in the first half of his tenure in the Quorum of the Twelve. In the last fifteen years, when he has treaded lightly, he has done so by setting up an agon and at the same time deemphasizing it. I call this technique “soft-pedaling.” President Holland uses various techniques to soft-pedal, including introducing his antagonist by using subjective, personal rhetoric rather than absolute statements; presenting the antagonist by quoting or paraphrasing someone else (as he does by quoting Elder Neal A Maxwell with regard to “comfortable Christianity” in “Waiting on the Lord”), using images or stories that emphasize discussion rather than conflict, confrontation or struggle. 

The soft-pedaling technique that President Holland uses most often—in what I count as thirteen different sermons—is waiting to introduce his antagonist until after he has delivered over half of his sermon. Instead of building towards a powerful climax, such talks tend to focus on comfort and empathy. A characteristic example is “Because of Your Faith,” a moving tribute to the efforts of church members to provide Christlike service. Implicit in the sermon is an agon with the idea that the unsung service of ordinary church members is somehow inferior to that of visible leaders. President Holland introduces this idea over halfway through the sermon by expressing gratitude, “to the near-perfect elderly sister who almost apologetically whispered recently, “I have never been a leader of anything in the Church. I guess I’ve only been a helper,” I say, “Dear sister, God bless you and all the ‘helpers’ in the kingdom.” Some of us who are leaders hope someday to have the standing before God that you have already attained.” A more direct agonistic treatment may have led to a powerful climax that would have displayed President Holland’s speaking powers, but doing so would have detracted from the idea that the contributions of others are at least as valuable as his. The soft-pedaling allows him to focus on others and, therefore, corresponds with the rhetorical purpose. President Holland sets an example by not only matching the style of his sermons to the message of the Savior but by focusing on the needs of his audience in terms of both content and style.

As disciples of Jesus Christ, our central message is Him—His life, His teachings, and His redemptive mission. That message needs to be the central focus of both what we say and how we say it. We can learn much about how to do this by studying the sermons of President Holland. At their most fiercely agonistic, they follow the scriptural admonition to “rend that veil of unbelief” (Either 4:15), trying to remove the sins, attitudes, and misconceptions that prevent us from drawing closer to God. At their gentlest, they comfort and provide encouragement. But all his sermons focus on the Lord, Jesus Christ. His 1995 sermon, “This Do in Remembrance of Me,” has a passage that helped me in my teenage years develop faith in the Savior:

To those who stagger or stumble, He is there to steady and strengthen us. In the end, He is there to save us, and for all this, He gave His life. However dim our days may seem, they have been darker for the Savior of the world.

In fact, in a resurrected, otherwise perfected body, our Lord of this sacrament table has chosen to retain for the benefit of His disciples the wounds in His hands and His feet and His side —signs, if you will, that painful things happen even to the pure and perfect; signs, if you will, that pain in this world is not evidence that God doesn’t love you. It is the wounded Christ who is the captain of our soul—He who yet bears the scars of sacrifice, the lesions of love and humility and forgiveness.

Those wounds are what He invites young and old, then and now, to step forward and see and feel (see 3 Ne. 11:15⁠; 18:25⁠). Then we remember with Isaiah that it was for each of us that our Master was “despised and rejected …; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief” (⁠Isa. 53:3⁠).

I have come to know the Savior, and the quote above was one of the catalysts for that process. 

President Holland has never made his messages about himself. Like John the Baptist, his stance is, “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30). In a world filled with selfish self-promotion as well as heated diatribes, I want to better follow that example.

Here is a list of President Holland’s antagonists, listed by talk from most recent to earliest. Only talks given in General Conference after his call to the Quorum of the Twelve are included.

“As a Little Child” April 2025—Vanity/ Rote religious practice

“I am He” October 2024—a Dumbed-down version of the Savior

“Motions of a Hidden Fire” April 2024—No main antagonist

“Lifted Up Upon the Cross” October 2022—Divided between 1) the cross as a symbol of Christianity, and 2) Comfortable Christianity (Soft Pedaled)

“Fear Not, Believe Only” April 2022—Divided between: 1) Discouragement, and 2) Suicide (Soft Pedaled)

“The Greatest Possession” October 2021—Incomplete devotion (Soft Pedaled)

“Not as the World Giveth” April 2021—Kind of scattered, but he does have an agon with Compromising our covenants (Soft Pedaled)

“Waiting on the Lord” October 2020—Comfortable Christianity (Soft Pedaled)

“A Perfect Brightness of Hope” April 2020—”Religious Deficiencies” in the Latter Days (Soft Pedaled)

“The Message, the Meaning and the Multitude” October 2019—religious culture and practice without focus on the Savior.

“Behold The Lamb of God” April 2019—irreverence (Soft pedaled)

“The Ministry of Reconciliation” October 2018—contention

“Be with and Strengthen Them” April 2018—rote performance of duty (especially Home Teaching) 

“Be Ye Therefore Perfect—Eventually” October 2017—toxic perfectionism

“Songs Sung and Unsung” April 2017—None

“Emissaries to the Church” October 2016—rote performance of duty

“Tomorrow the Lord Will Do Wonders Among You” April 2016—discouragement (rooted in something related to perfectionism) 

“Behold Thy Mother” October 2015—None

“Where Justice, Love and Mercy Meet” April 2015—existential meaninglessness

“Are We Not All Beggars?” October 2014—apathy for the poor. 

“The Cost—And the Blessings—of Discipleship” April 2014—comfortable Christianity

“Like a Broken Vessel” October 2013—mental health challenges/attitudes about mental health

“Lord, I Believe” April 2013—doubt

“The First Great Commandment” October 2012—looking back (to the former life, before conversion)

“The Laborers in the Vineyard” April 2012—misperceptions about the justice of God (based on 1) envy, 2) bitterness, 3) feeling that you are irredeemable) 

“We Are All Enlisted” October 2011—incomplete devotion

“An Ensign to the Nations” April 2011—comfortable Christianity (Soft Pedaled)

“Because of Your Faith” October 2010—the idea that the contribution of ordinary members is lesser (Soft Pedaled)

“Place No More for the Enemy of My Soul” April 2010—lust

“Safety for the Soul” October 2009—hearts failing in the last days, despair, and despondency

“None Were with Him” April 2009—feeling that God has abandoned you

“The Ministry of Angels” October 2008—fear, discouragement

“My Words…Never Cease” April 2008—the idea that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is not Christian

“The Only True God and Jesus Christ Whom He has Sent” October 2007—the idea that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is not Christian

“The Tongue of Angels” April 2007—unkind words. 

“Prophets in the Land Again” October 2006—no central antagonist (though a brief agon with 1) —the idea that the leaders of the Church are out of touch, and 2) the idea that it is possible to go too far away from the saving grace of God) 

“Broken Things to Mend” April 2006—the idea that we are broken beyond repair

“To Young Women” October 2005—unrealistic standards of beauty (Soft Pedaled)

“Our Most Distinguishing Feature” April 2005—the doctrine of the Priesthood of All Believers (Soft Pedaled)

“Prophets, Seers and Revelators” October 2004—none

“Abide in Me” April 2004—casual commitment (Soft-pedaled)

“The Grandeur of God” October 2003—misconceptions about the nature of God 

“A Prayer for the Children” April 2003—cynicism or skepticism, incomplete devotion

“Called to Serve” October 2002—none

“The Other Prodigal” April 2002—jealousy, envy

“Like a Watered Garden” October 2001—none

“Witnesses unto Me” April 2001—none

“Sanctify Yourselves” October 2000—amusement (Soft Pedaled)

“As Doves to Our Windows” April 2000—ingratitude

“An High Priest of Good Things to Come” October 1999—hopelessness

“The Hands of the Fathers” April 1999—fatherlessness

“Personal Purity” October 1998—sexual Immorality

“A Teacher Come from God” April 1998—uninspired teaching

“He Hath Filled the Hungry with Good Things” October 1997—spiritual emptiness, focus on temporal things

“Because She is a Mother” April 1997—none

“The Peaceable Things of the Kingdom” October 1996—none 

“A Handful of Meal and a Little Oil” April 1996—none

“This Do in Remembrance of Me” October 1995—taking the Sacrament lightly (rote religious practice) 

“Our Priesthood Legacy” April 1995—none

“Miracles of the Restoration” October 1994—none

The post When Prophets Speak Meekly and Still Pierce the Heart appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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There is a difference between knowing things about Christ and knowing Him. I feel like I know Christ in the same way I know my favorite football player. I can tell you my favorite player’s stats. I can tell you what team he played on. I can tell you my favorite play of his. But do I know him? No. Does he know me? No. If I were to see him in a crowd, the chances of my walking by him and recognizing him are slim, and the chances of him recognizing me do not exist, because he has never seen me in his life. (It is Barry Sanders by the way—my favorite football player). 

What about Christ? If He were to see me in a crowd, I believe He would recognize me, but would I recognize Him? I don’t know. I know a lot about Him. I have read the scriptures. I have felt His spirit. So why do I feel like I do not know Him yet––I mean, really know Him (Matthew 19:20)? At times, I feel like I do not know Him at all.

I wonder, is this problem unique to me? Sometimes I feel like I am outside looking in on everyone else’s relationship with Him and concluding they all figured it out. But I am convinced of this less and less the more I think about it. I don’t know Christ as well as I would like to. But I am actively, desperately pursuing Him, as if my very life depends on it. 

Understanding Meekness

My favorite scripture in the New Testament is,

“Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly of heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30).

The Lord describes Himself many times in scripture, but almost exclusively in the form of a title or testament to Himself: “I am the Lord,” “I am the light of the world,” “I am the living bread,” “I am he that comforteth you,” “I am Jesus Christ,” and so forth. This is unique. This is among the few times the Lord describes Himself using a character trait in the first-person. (Only once else does He describe Himself like this in D&C 76:5 as “merciful and gracious.”) And yet, because He is perfect, He could have used any word. He could have said, “I am humble,” or “I am love”––as so many Christians today declare He is. But the Lord did not. He chose “I am meek.” To me, these are some of the most important words He uttered, because they are the words I can most easily connect to. For example, I cannot learn how to become the Living Bread—that is Christ’s job. But I can learn to be meek. And as I do, I will come to know Him. 

Pray As If He Is Listening

The greatest thing as a dad is not how much you teach your children, but how much you learn from them. I learned how to pray, I mean really pray, from my son. He is 5 now, but has prayed since about 3 years old. He is the only person I have ever heard pray for Christ. 

A stake president changed my perspective on prayer. Very seriously, he said, “I thought I knew how to pray before I became a stake president.” Convinced we saints do not know how to pray, he pointed out, at the rate and the content by which we pray, “we ought never to get sick.” He asked, “How many of you say this in your prayers, ‘Please bless the food that it may nourish and strengthen our bodies, that we may be strong and healthy.’?” A chuckle hovered around the room as everyone realized they likely said that very phrase at the breakfast table that morning. 

He challenged us to pray, to really pray. To stop “vain repetitions” as the Savior plainly asked, and to start praying from the heart (Matthew 6:7). To begin a prayer in silence, put away the “grocery list of demands,” and just listen for a change. I forgot that until years later when I witnessed my son, a 3-year-old boy, pray more fervently and sincerely than his 28-year-old father. My son humbled me (Matthew 18:3-5). He talks to Heavenly Father as if He is there and listening:

“Dear Heavenly Father,

How are you?

Please bless Jesus, He must be tired.

I miss you.

In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”

How many hours have I wasted in meaningless prayer (Alma 33:11)? Those were opportunities to get to know God, which in turn would allow me to know Christ, for They are One (3 Nephi 11:27). I don’t know how to pray like my son—that beautiful, innocent boy. Perhaps I can start by praying as if God is listening.

Learning Who He Is Not

Strangely, I learned a lot about Christ from reading The Iliad. This 3000-year-old story about the Trojan War and Greek Gods helped clarify the character of Christ (D&C 88:118). In the second book, Zeus—the Father of the Greek Gods—is frustrated that the Greek and Trojan armies stopped fighting. Wanting the fighting to continue, Zeus convinces the Greek army general, Agamemnon, to continue the fighting by showing Agamemnon a vision of himself winning the war and obtaining great glory. However, Zeus lied. Agamemnon would suffer an ignominious death. Zeus needed the fighting to resume, and he could only do that by making Agamemnon think he was on Agamemnon’s side.

Reading that story, I sat back in my chair and chuckled. “Man,” I said, “can you imagine believing in a God who could lie to you?” Then the question turned serious: What if I believed in a God who could lie to me? What if Christ can lie? How could I truly trust Him? Do I believe in the character of Christ as I have come to learn it—both from others and as I have encountered it personally?  

Questions like these “arouse [my] faculties” (Alma 32:26-27). I have grown stronger because I have learned to approach tough and difficult questions “by faith” (D&C 88:118). I began a quest to discover what I do believe about Christ. I truly believe Christ will not and cannot lie to me (Titus 1:2). He is not a liar. He is trustworthy; someone who follows through on His word (2 Samuel 7:28). And, when I have put that to the test, He has never failed (D&C 82:8-10). I came to a better understanding of Christ’s “perfect character” by considering the things He is not (BD Faith). Perhaps, if you want to know who Christ is, you must first learn who He is not.

Spending Time With Him

My favorite restaurant is Macadoo’s in Lexington, Virginia, about 6 miles from where I completed my undergraduate education. While I love the food there (it has my favorite burger), that is not why it is my favorite. Today, I can still point out the table where my wife and I sat for our first date 9 years ago. We would have many more dates there, both before and after our marriage. I got to know the woman I would spend the rest of my life with in that restaurant.  

During the last few years on my journey of knowing Christ, I have often contrasted my experience of getting to know my wife with getting to know Christ. I have spent a lot of time with my wife, and I know her very well. But I have not spent as much time with Christ. 

About a year ago, my wife and I were called as temple ordinance workers in the Lubbock Temple. Spending time in the temple together has strengthened our marriage, increased my understanding of gospel principles, and confirmed to me the reality of the work we do as saints. I did not expect how much more I would come to know Christ as I spent time serving in the temple. The temple is the “House of the Lord” after all (Isaiah 2:2-3). I should have known I would encounter Him there, get to know Him, and become comfortable with Him (Malachi 3:1)––just as I did with my wife at Macadoo’s. 

One day in the temple—while working at a specific place, performing a certain ordinance––I kept making small mistakes that felt like they took away from the spirit of the ordinance. This particular ordinance requires both the worker and the patron to be in harmony with one another, as if you are dance partners, going back and forth until the ordinance is over. Not until the final patron did I finally perform my part of the “dance” in a way I felt acceptable. The patron and I were working in complete harmony (Matthew 18:20). As we flowed and connected, I suddenly felt an overwhelming feeling, and a voice popped into my head, “This is what it is to know Me.” 

Knowing Christ means to be in harmony with His will and feel connected to Him, to know what is expected of you and perform according to that expectation when the time comes (D&C 4:2-3), like dance partners moving and flowing with each other.  

We may not get to know Christ the ‘conventional’ way––the same way we get to know our spouse or friend. But, I don’t think He ever intended getting to know Him to be the ‘conventional’ way. Getting to know Him looks different. We come to know Him through the Spirit (Matthew 16:15-17). We may not know how to do that at first, so maybe we just start by sharing moments with him. Simply put—spend time with Him.

The Price to Know Him

I imagine my life 5 years from now. If at that point in my future I know Christ, I mean really know Christ, what would it have cost me? Would there be any price or sacrifice that would lead me to say, “That is too much”? I don’t think so. I would rather limp into the Celestial Kingdom knowing I paid the price to know Him than sprint into the Terrestrial Kingdom unscathed by the burdens of discipleship (Hebrews 12:1-3). I tire of feeling like I just know a lot about my Savior. I want to know Him as if I knew the sound of His voice and the curves of His face (Alma 5:14). I will come to a better understanding of meekness; to pray like He is actually listening; to learn who He is as I learn who He is not; and I will spend as much time as I can with Him. Then in the end it will all be worth it because “when he shall appear [I] shall be like him; for [I] shall see him as he is” (1 John 3:2, and 1 Corinthians 13:12).

The post Why Knowing Doctrine Isn’t the Same as Knowing Christ appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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Part 2 in a 4 part series. Part 1: Navigating Your Faith Journey: Questioning is Good,  Part 3: Navigating Your Faith Journey: Use Your Head, Part 4: Navigating Your Faith Journey: Use Your Hands

In this article, we provide suggestions for how to use your heart to more fruitfully navigate your faith journey. This follows our initial article where we argued that questioning, if done properly, can be a healthy part of your journey to a deeper, richer faith, and that while doubt is not a sin, it simply isn’t very helpful. Here we will start to offer a few suggestions for how to go about questioning more effectively and productively. Across a series of three articles, we will talk about the role of the heart, the head, and the hands in navigating your faith journey. We take this approach because we are psychologists, and psychologists study emotions (heart), thoughts (head), and actions (hands) to better understand what being human means. Thus, we think this triadic approach can help to capture the various ways we can invest our whole selves in the vital process of better understanding what our faith means and finding answers to specific questions about it. 

Why start with the heart? The heart is like the engine, the head is like the steering wheel, and the hands are like the tires. It always helps to have nice power steering and good tires, but if the engine isn’t working, you’re not going anywhere, or at least not very fast or reliably. Just as the engine is the most important part of the car, your heart is the most important part of your faith journey. In the Saviors “Parable of the Sower,” He taught that for us to understand His word, and for it to bear fruit, we need good soil (Matthew 13: 19-23). According to the parable, our soil can’t be dry, stony, or thorny. In other words, our soil should be wet, soft, and free of weeds, ready to receive the seed. Otherwise, no matter how good the seed, no matter what beautiful thing it could grow into, nothing productive will happen. To frame what we are talking about here, we are going to use the acronym SHOW as we outline how it is possible to “show” God that our soil is good.

1. Are the questions I have really MY questions, the questions that I really want answers to, or are they just questions I’ve read or heard from others? Dr. Jared Halverson, a religion professor and scholar of anti-Mormon rhetoric, has found that often when students come to him with questions, the student’s themselves aren’t really invested in those specific questions. There is typically some deeper concern.  We might have what Elder Lawrence E. Corbridge calls “primary questions” about foundational issues (e.g., Is there a God?), but spend a lot of time and energy going from one “secondary question” to the next. This can lead us to spend a lot of time “going down the rabbit hole,” so to speak, but never really coming face-to-face with their deepest, most pressing question.

2. Am I willing to accept any answer I receive from God, or have I already decided that only certain answers will count for me? In the Book of Mormon, King Lamoni’s father was seeking knowledge of God, and told Aaron, “Behold, I will give up all that I possess, yea, I will forsake my kingdom, that I may receive this great joy” (Alma 22:15). Now that’s a sincere heart! In our day, Joseph Smith’s heart must have been exceptionally sincere when he sought answers from God in his first uttered prayer, a prayer that ultimately involved God trusting him with restoring His Church in these latter-days. Ultimately, Joseph gave his life in following the answer he received to his question. In short, it is key that we always remember that ultimately it is answers from God we are seeking, even as we consult with and learn from others, and that we are never under any obligation to accept answers that come from any other source than God.

3. Am I ready to follow whatever answer I receive? Elder Dallin H. Oaks put it this way, “I do not ask out of curiosity but with total sincerity to act on the answer to my prayer.” For, the Lord has said, “for unto him that receiveth I will give more; and from them that shall say, We have enough, from them shall be taken away even that which they have” (2 Nephi 28:30). Not only that, but He also said, “For of him unto whom much is given much is required; and he who sins against the greater light shall receive the greater condemnation” (Doctrine and Covenants 82:3). In other words, if we don’t really do anything with the revelation we are given, God is less likely to give us more, in part out of grace to keep us from being held accountable for it.  

The “H” in SHOW represents Humble. Humility is the opposite of pride, so lacks haughtiness or arrogance. But it also implies submissiveness and an acknowledgment of our lower place in the hierarchy. We love Proverbs 11:2 here, which says, “When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom.” In other words, be careful how smart you think you are, or you might end up doing something quite foolish! Regarding your faith journey, this means asking yourself the following questions:

1. Am I teachable? The teachable part of humility is often referred to as “meekness.” Elder David A. Bednar describes meekness as “a particular spiritual receptivity to learning both from the Holy Ghost and from people who may seem less capable, experienced, or educated, who may not hold important positions, or who otherwise may not appear to have much to contribute” (April, 2018).

2. Do I acknowledge the limitations of human understanding, and in particular my own understanding? The Lord instructed the prophet Isaiah that “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts” (Isaiah 55:8-9). We find it amusing that, given the mess our world is in these days, anyone would presume having anything figured out based solely on human perception and understanding.

3. Am I willing to admit many others have studied my questions a lot longer than I have? We are confident that no matter what your question is, you are not the first person to have that question. It is likely your question has been pondered, debated, and studied for decades, centuries, or even millennia. Often the people doing so have advanced degrees in the topic and have studied it as part of their career. So, don’t presume you can emerge on the scene, do a little of your own “research,” and suddenly have THE answer. Most important questions take time, sustained effort, and persistence before yielding satisfying answers. Indeed, some of the most personally and spiritually important questions we can ask may well take a lifetime of study, contemplation, and experience to work through to a meaningful resolution.

It is important to be clear about the true nature of humility. It is easy to misunderstand what it means to be humble and equate it with being so open-minded or self-effacing that you never take a firm stand on any issues, always deferring to others. While being humble means being teachable, open-minded, and willing to learn from others and question your own assumptions, it also means that you are prepared to give yourself over fully and meekly to God, ready to do His will and follow His counsel even in the face of opposition. Being humble in this sense means that we recognize that it is possible to be too cautious about coming to conclusions and overly hesitant about acting on the truth as we come to know it. It is vital that we remember that being humble and teachable is not compatible with confidently making judgments about what is true, even in the face of challenge from those who disagree, and especially in light of spiritual confirmations that come from the Lord. As the Christian philosopher Dietrich Von Hildebrand wisely taught, “humility is above all a recognition of the glory of God, and in a secondary sense only, a recognition of our own unimportance.”

1. Am I truly open to letting go of my preconceived ideas and assumptions? It’s hard for God to give us a round peg when the only hole for truth we will permit is a square one. In the Salem Witch Trials, the accused were asked questions such as, “How long have you been practicing witchcraft?” More recently, leading up to the Iraq War, U.S. officials asked, “Where are Iraq’s weapons of mass destruction?” Clearly, in both cases, the questions were asked with certain preconceived ideas in place, to which only a narrow range of possible answers we allowed or sought. When we are truly seeking answers to our questions, it is vital that we take time to consider what our typically taken for granted assumptions might be. It is especially important to be aware of how our assumptions might close down certain avenues of discovery, steering us in one direction when we really need to be going in another. It is often the case that we experience a faith crisis because we’ve absorbed some fundamentally secular assumptions about the nature of God or the meaning of faith, revelation, sexuality, identity or whatnot that we now take for granted as being unquestionable, plain old common sense, and just the ways things are. Then, in turn, those assumptions frame our questions or concerns in ways that make it difficult for religious teachings and practices to provide convincing or “rational” answers. Thus, it is often “hidden,” unacknowledged secular assumptions that create for us our doubts and crises of faith, all of which could likely be avoided or more fruitfully navigated were we more aware of their secular or cultural origins.

2. Am I open to letting go of my own expectations for when and how God will answer my questions? Perhaps the most epic example of this was the Jews praying for a Savior for millennia, but then not recognizing Him when He came among them, all because their expectations for the coming of the Messiah were too narrow and rigid. They expected a military leader who would deliver them from Roman rule, not a spiritual leader who would deliver them from sin and death. Of course, having expectations is not a bad thing. We all have them. The problem here was that so many of the Jews actively resisted questioning or reconsidering their expectations about the Messiah and how he might come among them. More personally, if we trust that God is all-knowing and all-powerful, then we can trust He knows what’s best for us. And, as a loving Father in Heaven, he relates to us individually, in our own personal way. As C. S. Lewis conveyed, “My idea of God is a not divine idea. It has to be shattered from time to time. He shatters it Himself. He is the great iconoclast. Could we not almost say that this shattering is one of the marks of His presence?” And you are likely familiar with his parable of the house, where he demonstrates how God intends much more thorough renovations of our lives than we would like or can even imagine. Hence, the recent invitation by President Russell M. Nelson to learn to “Hear Him.” Explore how God speaks to you personally. It may be through His word in the scriptures, or from modern prophets (2 Timothy 3:16-17). It may be through the testimonies of others (Doctrine and Covenants 46:14). It may be through thoughts in your mind, or feelings in your heart (Doctrine and Covenants 8:2). It may be through music (Doctrine and Covenants 25:12). It may be through the beauty of the earth and being in nature (Alma 30:44). It could be aided by mindfulness practices (At-one-ment, Thomas McConkie). Learn how to “Hear Him” for yourself. Then, as they say in 12-step programs, “Let go, and let God.” 

3. Am I open to a variety of ways of learning truth, including observation, reason, and revelation? Recently, Elder Dale G. Renlund taught the strengths and limitations of each, with poignant examples. Observation is important to verifying truth, but it can also be misleading. Reason is important for understanding truth, but it doesn’t always work in the real world. Both observation and reason can build faith, but they are constrained by mortality, hence the need for revelation. When he recently spoke at BYU, Dallas Jenkins, the director of the television series The Chosen, testified that “God does impossible math.” Thus, we ought not to let human observation and reason put limits on what God can teach us and do for us. 

The ”W” in SHOW stands for Willingness. Everything we have already discussed pertaining to being sincere, humble, and open relies on willingness. Agency is fundamental to God’s plan. We learn this from the books of Abraham and Moses in the Pearl of Great Price, particularly regarding the premortal council in heaven, and the numerous Book of Mormon passages that teach about our freedom to choose. Elder D. Todd Christofferson articulated it this way, “It is His plan and His will that we have the principal decision-making role in our own life’s drama. God will not live our lives for us nor control us as if we were His puppets, as Lucifer once proposed to do” (October, 2014). On your faith journey, it will be important to ask yourself these questions:

1. Am I truly willing to have a change of heart? 

2. Am I truly willing to have a change of mind?

3. Am I truly willing to change how I live my life?

As we stated earlier, we are focusing on how you can use your heart, head, and hands on your faith journey. But if you are not willing to do what must be done to see your questions through to their authentic answers, then the whole process is a futile endeavor doomed from the beginning. Elder Deiter F. Uchtdorf taught a powerful lesson several years ago in General Conference about how even very small navigation errors can lead airplanes way off track and send them far from their intended destination. As such, it is vital that you embark on your faith journey with willingness, not only a desire for meaningful answers but a commitment to seeking them out in the best way possible and then acting with full purpose as those answers dictate. Hence why Elder Dale G. Renlund encouraged us to have an “inclination toward faith” as we proceed on our faith journeys. 

We hope these suggestions can help you SHOW God that you have good soil, ready for the seeds of His word to be planted and grow. As Alma instructed in the Book of Mormon, if we allow the seed of word of God to be planted in the soil of our hearts, and then nourish it, the seed can grow into a plant that bears fruits in our lives, and this will give us knowledge. Similarly, the experience of Enos teaches us about how the word of God he had learned from his father “sunk deep into [his] heart,” preparing him for very personal revelation and very profound spiritual transformation (Enos 1: 3). When our heart is truly ready, we can more fully engage our head and our hands in our personal faith journey. In forthcoming essays, we will discuss in greater detail how to use your head and hands to navigate your faith journey.

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