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

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

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

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

Oblige

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

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

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

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

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

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

Promote

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

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

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

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

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

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

Collaborating

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

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

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

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

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

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

Compromising

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

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

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

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

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

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

Avoiding

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

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

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

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

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

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

“O Be Wise”

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

The post Why Winning Doesn’t Make You Right: Five Conflict Styles appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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There are questions that create profound divisions among Christians. Some of these divisions become so deep that two Christians in the same congregation can be said to be living a completely different religion. For example, among Latter-day Saints, the question of whether or not to sustain the leadership of the church—and as President Henry B. Eyring taught, how strongly to define the word “sustain”—is one of those basic foundational questions that creates fundamentally different experiences of religion among people who sit in the same pews. And for the broader Christian world, one of the greatest divides is found in how believers respond to the gospel of John chapter 6. There, Christ provides a clear contrast between His mission and the world’s approaches to alleviating pain and poverty.

Christianity is experienced by believers internally, who then impact the world externally. The internal impacts of Christian faith are described in terms of repentance, inner rebirth, and transformation of our desires in the direction of goodness and holiness. With inner transformation, the Christian is then equipped to bless the external world with judgment, a scriptural concept that basically means to make the world right. Inner conversion leading to change in the world around us is the Christian order to follow for the transformation of society, and there are no shortcuts to the ideal society (“Zion”) that it produces.

They go on to associate Jesus with Moses, under whose leadership the children of Israel were given a constant supply of manna in the wilderness: “Our fathers did eat manna in the desert; as it is written, He gave them bread from heaven to eat.” And there follows a demand: “Then said they unto him, Lord, evermore give us this bread.”

We read that the people saw Jesus as “the prophet who should come into the world” as a result of this similarity with Moses (v.14), and immediately they sought to “take Him by force, and make Him a king” (v.15). Jesus responded in ways that must have gone against the people’s mental conditioning: He refused to be a king, and He refused to perpetually feed them. With these choices, Jesus was only repeating His responses to the temptations in the wilderness, where Satan offered Him political power— “the kingdoms of the world”— and also recognition, “He shall give his angels charge concerning thee: and in their hands they shall bear thee up…”.

And as with the temptations in the wilderness, Jesus’ choices in John chapter 6 should give us pause. Every reader would benefit from pondering what we would do in Jesus’ situation. With the power to eliminate all hunger forever by distributing an endless supply of food, would we do it? Or would we see, as Jesus did, reasons to refrain from doing so? With the ability to eliminate oppression by becoming a politically all-powerful king or queen, would we do it? Or would we see, as Jesus did, reasons to refrain from doing so? These questions that arise in John 6 are at the heart of much of modern political conflict.

In the wonderful series “The Chosen,” this conflict has been represented in the story of Judas. Viewers are given a portrait of Judas as a man who is extremely earnest, who feels deeply the pain of the world and sees in Jesus the possibility of immediate resolution for all of that pain.

In this dramatization of Judas, the creators of The Chosen are tapping into a deep current in the psyche, the current of our expectations toward God. When we feel some sympathy toward Judas in The Chosen and we relate to his desire to see the world made right as quickly as possible, we can understand people’s expectations of God and how those shape so much of the world around us.

Consider the views of German academic Bruno Bauer, one of the formative influences on the mind of Karl Marx. Similar to The Chosen’s portrayal of Judas, Bauer said of Jesus,

On earth, [Jesus] would be a thousand times more necessary and useful to man than in heaven, if what we say about him in good Jewish fashion is true, that God will give him the kingdoms of the world and through him restore peace to the whole earth. What reasonable reason can Christians give as to why God did not keep his word to the Lord Jesus? Why did he take him to heaven if he is to be a Lord on earth and to judge the dead and the living in the way we imagine? Why must the devil, whom he is supposed to have overcome, still rule the whole world more than 1700 years after his overcoming and leave the conqueror behind? Why did he (the Lord Jesus) not take the kingdom immediately after his resurrection, as his Father had promised him? What was the reason that he had to ascend to heaven and in the meantime let everything on earth go topsy-turvy?

Marxism and its twin ideology of fascism on the right emerged in societies that knew the Bible. In biblical texts like the book of Isaiah, we read of an ideal future world free of the kinds of conflict and pain that we now experience:

The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them.

And the cow and the bear shall feed; their young ones shall lie down together: and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.

And the sucking child shall play on the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the cockatrice’s den.

They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain: for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea.

Like The Chosen’s Judas, Bruno Bauer viewed Jesus as a failure: holding all the power to inaugurate this ideal world envisioned by Isaiah, Jesus frustratingly declined to do so. It is interesting to note that in his summer 1839 university studies at the Friedrich Wilhelm University in Berlin, Karl Marx took only one course, and it was a course on Isaiah taught by Bruno Bauer.

But are these horrors exclusive to the ideological left? Consider this statement:

If positive Christianity means love of one’s neighbour, i.e., the tending of the sick, the clothing of the poor, the feeding of the hungry, the giving of drink to those who are thirsty, then it is we who are the more positive Christians. For in these spheres the community of the people of _____ has accomplished a prodigious work …

Not knowing the source of the quote, we might assume it to come from a Marxist luminary like Antonio Gramsci, who famously said that “socialism is precisely the religion that must kill Christianity.” But in reality, if we fill in the blank in the above quote, it is referring to “the people of National Socialist Germany.” The speaker claiming that German national socialism was superior to commonly lived Christianity was, in fact, Adolf Hitler, speaking in February 1939.

In a recent discussion on the Doctrine and Governance program, we observed how at the extremes of left and right, people work toward delusional visions of an ideal world; on the left, there is the vision of a classless society articulated by Marx, and on the right, the current vision is Christian nationalism, which imagines a king-figure imposing Christian righteousness upon the nation. Both of these delusions emerge in the swamps of social theory that form as people reject the Christ of John chapter 6.

By stark contrast, consider a recent devotional address given by Sharon Eubank at BYU-Idaho. There she repeated and answered an “accusation-question” that is commonly aimed toward the church:

I am occasionally asked, “Why doesn’t the Church spend more money on humanitarian work? Why doesn’t it stop building expensive temples and focus its resources on relieving the poor?” This is a legitimate question for the Church of Jesus Christ. But is it money that solves society’s ills? The world has poured two trillion dollars into addressing chronic issues in Africa. Why isn’t the situation better? Because money isn’t really the issue. Lasting progress comes through trusted relationships, infrastructure, reducing corruption, and the ability of people to work together. Money doesn’t necessarily create those things. They must be developed alongside the resources, and frankly, it is much harder work.

I will never discount the one thing this Church does that lifts entire communities in rapid development. It invites men and women of all social classes and backgrounds to enter sacred buildings and make the most binding and important promises of their mortal lives. In those buildings, they promise not to steal or lie, they promise to be faithful to their spouse and children. They vow they will seek the interest of their neighbors and be peacemakers and become devoted to the idea that we are all one family—all valued and alike unto God. If those promises made in holy temples are kept, it transforms society faster than any aid or development project ever could. The greatest charitable development on the planet is for people to bind themselves to their God and mean it. So, thank goodness the Church builds 335 temples and counting. It is the greatest poverty alleviation system in the world.

The quality of our viewpoint depends on what we are willing to see, and in Sharon Eubank’s role leading humanitarian efforts for the church, she has seen which assistance strategies actually help people, and which ones fail. She has seen how root causes are ignored when endless loaves and fishes are demanded of God or governments.

In confronting the root causes of humanity’s struggles, the Christ of John chapter 6 invites our conversion, the writing of God’s law upon our hearts. And the results of that process are exactly what Sharon Eubank described. As I noted in a recent article, it is no accident that Utah, the most templed region of the United States, consistently ranks at or near the top in annual surveys of upward mobility and income equality. The Zion society we yearn for is indeed available to us, but only on God’s terms, in God’s timing, through processes revealed by God’s ordained servants.

In her devotional, Sharon Eubank spoke to young, impressionable students who will eventually be exposed to utopian ideologies in the world, ideologies that always promise heaven yet end up creating hell. In the midst of all the voices pulling these students toward delusional extremes, Sharon Eubank modeled the example of the Christ of John chapter 6. She stood before her audience and, rather than promise them a life of endless free loaves and fishes, she loved them enough to ground them in God’s truth.

The post When God Refuses to Fix the World: The Politics of John 6 appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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The Wall Street Journal used to know the difference between covering a faith and staging it. In “‘Exmo’ Influencers Mount a TikTok War Against the Mormon Church,” that line isn’t blurred—it’s crossed. The piece does more than report on critics of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter‑day Saints; it puts their reenactments front and center, including a posed photo of an ex‑member wearing sacred temple clothing and descriptions that turn baptisms, initiations, and other temple rites into shareable spectacle. What is sacred is not content. And when a national newspaper treats it that way, it isn’t tough reporting—it’s trespass dressed up as journalism.

The Journal even said so when a boundary was breached elsewhere. In 2022, an Israeli TV reporter snuck into Mecca, a city non‑Muslims are forbidden to enter. The Journal’s opinion page ran the headline “Mecca Rules Are Up to Muslims” with the sub‑line that a “reckless Israeli journalist” had put others at risk. Another column debated whether Mecca should ever be opened to non‑Muslims (“Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman Should Open Mecca”), and a third reflected on rare, leadership‑sanctioned exceptions (“The Secret Mission to Sneak Into Mecca”). The throughline wasn’t hard to miss: Mecca’s boundary is real, and crossing it isn’t a media stunt—it’s a violation. Respect for sacred limits isn’t a parochial ask; it’s a newsroom norm.

Now look back at the Journal’s Latter‑day Saint story. It spotlights ex‑members who re‑create or display elements from temple worship that practicing Latter‑day Saints treat as sacred and private. A decade ago, when the Church itself chose to explain its temple clothing and asked that the press treat it as other faiths’ vestments are treated, responsible coverage did exactly that—embedding the Church’s own explainer and letting the institution’s visuals carry the story (Church Newsroom; Washington Post story and video). The Journal chose the opposite: a promotional image of an ex‑member in sacred clothing, plus social‑video reenactments. If even HBO—a profit‑minded entertainment brand—apologized for offending believers when Big Love dramatized a temple scene in 2009 (LAT; Reuters), why is a flagship newsroom now lowering the bar?

When reached for comment, a Wall Street Journal spokesperson replied,

“The Journal’s reporting is accurate, fair and meets its established and trusted high standards. The Journal practices ‘no surprises’ journalism. As noted in the article, our reporter was in touch with the church, which declined to comment. We took great care in preparing this story and stand by our reporting.”

The Society of Professional Journalists’ Code of Ethics is unambiguous: provide context; avoid pandering to lurid curiosity; consider cultural differences; minimize harm (SPJ Code). It also cautions that legal access to information is not the same as an ethical justification to publish. You don’t earn trust by telling believers to brace themselves while you stage their sacraments. “No surprises” is not “no standards.”

The Journal insists its story is “accurate, fair,” that it practices “no‑surprises” journalism, that it contacted the Church, and that it “stands by” the reporting. But fairness isn’t a phone call. (Especially one that the Journal reporter has mischaracterized as “no comment.”) It’s the package: headline, art, framing, context. On all four, this piece comes up short. The Journal’s own public standards promise to “fairly present all sides of the story through rigorous, fact‑based reporting” and to uphold “appropriate professional conduct” (WSJ standards overview; Dow Jones Code of Conduct). By any normal test—especially the one the Journal applied when a reporter snuck into Mecca—this isn’t it.

The Wall Street Journal may stand behind their reporting. But they didn’t meet the accepted journalistic standards. They didn’t even meet their own journalistic standards. They acted less like reporters and more like a carnival barker telling the passersby that for the cost of a pageview they can come gawk at a secret religion. 

The Journal once set the curve on restraint. Yesterday it flunked it. On matters of worship, judgment—not just facts—is the test. Here, the Journal didn’t just miss the mark. It moved the line. Pull the piece. Apologize. And then do what the best newsrooms do next: be better than your worst day.

The post Consent not Curiosity: WSJ’s Double Standard on the Sacred appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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This is the 7th article in our Peacemaking Series. The previous article: The Complex Art of Christian Kindness: Building Bridges

I don’t agree, but I’m not saying anything. 

I’m going to keep my opinion to myself. I don’t want to rock the boat. I’m just trying to avoid contention; I don’t want to argue or start a fight. I want to maintain the peace, get along, and play well with others. If I say something, it’s a party foul: nobody likes a party-pooper, buzzkill, debbie-downer, wet blanket, tight-wad, stickler, contrarian, Nazi, one-upper, smart-aleck, know-it-all, skeptic, cynic, nay-sayer, zealot, fanatic, troublemaker, right-winger, left-winger, fence-sitter anyways! There’s a lot of pressure to choose a side and be a team player. It takes less effort to go with the flow, blend in, keep my head down, and roll with the punches. Right now, I’m being selfish: I need to let others have their turn. It’s important to listen to those you disagree with, be open-minded, and have diversity of thought. If things get out of hand, then the system will correct itself. Plus, it’s not like they’d listen anyways…right?

There are so many “good” reasons to stay quiet.

Many haven’t had effective communication patterns modeled for them. Online, clickbait writing and algorithms tend to exploit extreme opinions and communication tactics, promoting the most extreme and loudest “shouted” opinions because it maximizes engagement. For the same reasons, so many movie conflicts get “resolved” by shouting matches, fist-fights, gun-fights, building smashings, battles, death, and war. Not to say these problems are new; they’re only the most recent evolution in negative gossip and tall tales. We are saturated with extreme portrayals of what disagreements can lead to.

But disagreeing is so important. I’m sure we’ve all felt the crushing blow of accountability when hearing variations of the quote, “Bad men need no better opportunity than when good men look on and do nothing” (Mill). But realistically, not all disagreements are good versus evil; rather, they distinguish among variants of “good, better, best” (Oaks). Unilaterally shared information, collaboration, and perceptive participation are necessary in resolving such issues. 

The seventh of its kind, the following article is a compilation of research used when creating a video for The Skyline Institute’s playful yet informative videos on conflict resolution called the Peacemaking series. This month’s video, “Disagreements Bring Balance,” teaches the value of and tactics for voicing one’s opinion, even when disagreeing.

Our intent is to help people embrace vocal disagreement through an empathetic framework that can align actions with beliefs. There are several contributing factors affecting one’s ability to disagree effectively, such as personality, emotions, and verbal tactics.

What Makes Me So Special?

It is clear our genetics––as much as how we were raised––have a significant influence on our personalities. Psychologists often use the Big Five personality traits—or Five Factor Model (FFM)—to describe our natural tendencies. The traits are Openness (to new experiences), Conscientiousness, Extraversion, Agreeableness, and Neuroticism—often remembered by the acronym OCEAN. For our purposes, Agreeableness is most relevant. Agreeableness describes the tendency to be compassionate, cooperative, and trusting in social interactions. Individuals high in agreeableness are typically described as friendly, patient, and often prioritizing the needs of others––seeking to maintain positive relationships. Personalities oriented toward agreeableness are just going to have a harder time finding the internal motivation to disagree. Those who score low in agreeableness (or high in disagreeableness, depending on how you wish to phrase it) will find the motivation to disagree easier. However, they will find it harder than agreeable people to express their disagreements in a socially effective way.

Consider the irony of staying silent because of wanting to respect and not contradict someone else’s opinion. It’s almost as if saying, Their opinion is important, they should share it, and I should listen to it. In fact, everyone’s opinion is important, everyone should share, and we all should listen. Except for my opinion, I will not share it, and therefore, no one can listen to it. When stated in this way, the illogic is exposed. 

As an example of this same sort of illogic, one co-author of this current video works as a mental health professional at an OCD clinic and interacts with clients who have determined they are unworthy of God’s forgiveness, often diagnosed as scrupulosity. When he asks them, “Who is God willing to forgive?” They reply, “Well, everyone.” He then, smiling, gently asks them, “So what makes you so special?” To which they often chuckle, recognizing their own mistaken perception of themself. So for those of us who don’t share our opinions out loud for fear of whatever reason, consider: What makes me so special that I’m the only exception to the rule ‘every voice matters’, or ‘two heads are better than one’? We invite you to consider yourself responsible for voicing your perspective; every voice matters.

Brene Brown’s research on these ideas clarifies the power of vulnerability. Vulnerability is a social currency that strengthens and deepens relationships. Relationships die when only one side is vulnerable. Internally, if I consistently diminish and disregard my own voice by not sharing my opinions out loud, I reinforce a negative perception of my own thoughts and ideas or a negative perception of other people’s opinions about my thoughts and ideas; and, repetitive silence can lead to resentment and emotion bottling. Externally, it will eventually impact my relationships with others “because, as it turns out, we can’t practice compassion with other people if we can’t treat ourselves kindly” (Brown). Instantly obliging without voicing one’s opinion excludes the other participants from the opportunity of increased perspective and possible collaboration (to be explored more in an upcoming article). Intrapersonally and interpersonally, a deep sense of connection can only come from authenticity: letting go of who one thinks they should be in order to be who they are. The principle of sharing isn’t just for kindergarten. To truly connect with others, we also have to share our honest thoughts and feelings—starting with ourselves.

Some might not share because they think other people aren’t worthy of their opinion. It’s worth considering whether that reluctance comes from a place of insecurity masked as arrogance—often, what looks like detachment is a quiet need for compassion.

Tactics for Assertive Communication

With motivation lined up inside of an empathy-oriented framework that is mutual empathy toward self and others, we can move on to verbal strategies that help structure disagreements effectively. Last month, we highlighted the importance of curiosity—like asking questions and restating the opposing view before expressing disagreement. This month, we share tools for expressing disagreement. These help foster “emotional safety” in our relationships.

Assertive communication clearly states personal needs with consideration for the needs of others. This is in contrast to passive or aggressive communication. Passive communication is preoccupied with the needs of others, inappropriately apologetic, and timid or silent. Aggressive communication focuses only on personal needs, often with an intensity, blame, or shame at the expense of others. Then, of course, there is that toxic cocktail of passive-aggressive communication that shames others while never clearly expressing personal needs. Just like other problems, the best way to address passive-aggression from others is not to ignore it (that would be passive), or by attacking it head-on (that’s aggressive), but by 1. keeping emotions in check, 2. directly addressing the negative behavior, and 3. asking direct questions. For example, you might say calmly, “It looked to me like you rolled your eyes. That makes me feel small and disrespected. I think I’ve upset you—do you want to talk about it?” This is what assertive language reads like; it clearly states personal needs; it is unambiguous and addresses the actual issue (which is not eye-rolling); and, it creates space for them to express their needs and feelings; also, it doesn’t force a conversation. However, even if the language is assertive, but the emotion is uncontrolled, then the communication is no longer assertive: the emotional intensity tips it into aggressive communication. The manner of conduct and the language expressed contribute to the quality of communication, whether it’s aggressive, passive, passive-aggressive, or assertive. 

Communication that is couched in personal experience doesn’t shift blame and direct anger toward other people. Instead, it focuses on personal feelings and personal perceptions of the situation. The Gottmans––marriage relationship experts––recommend using “I statements” or “I language” as a technique for verbally structuring disagreements. Begin any statement with an “I,” and make sure what follows is factual information from your own perspective. For example, an “I think…”, “I feel…”, or “I noticed…” are all particularly good ways to generate a “soft start” in a disagreement. This isn’t an excuse to say something like, “I think you waste your time on video games.” That’s still blaming and shaming the other person. Instead, describing without placing judgment, like “I’m worried you’re spending too much of your time on video games,” would be way better. Better yet, adding “… and I think it could be affecting your grades and relationships. I want to see you succeed and spend more time with you myself. Can you help me understand this from your perspective?” The real concern is addressed, vulnerability is shared, and an abundance of space has been created for the other person to share their feelings. There’s a chance the person could be wasting their time, but the latter conversation could foster an environment for the next Shigeru Miyamoto. 

Lastly, we offer the tool of talking in parts as a way of exploring and giving voice to the complex array of emotional nuances inside of oneself, especially when in a conflict. This technique draws from therapeutic models like Internal Family Systems (IFS), which recognize that we often have multiple internal perspectives. “Part of me wants to, but another part of me doesn’t.” One of the benefits is that there’s no limit to how many parts of you there are; “Part of me feels angry, but part of me gets where you’re coming from, and another part of me doesn’t want me to admit that.”

Closing Exercises

As our last exercise, let’s construct a “soft start” for an argument. Think of the last conflict you had or one that’s preoccupying your mind right now. Surely something came up. For the sake of exercise, let’s go with it. No scenario works out perfectly, but assuming the best, let’s apply the techniques in this article. 

1. What am I feeling? Emotions—like awkwardness, frustration, or fear—usually pass within 10–90 seconds. Instead of pushing them away, notice what you’re feeling and name it. Then choose how to respond. For the sake of the exercise, name the emotion, and accept it. Whether it sticks around depends on how we react to it, our thoughts, and our actions. So, what am I gonna do? Let’s decide to say something—which might not be appropriate for every situation (more on that in a future article), but for the sake of the exercise, let’s play it out in our mind.

2. What questions should I ask? Find my curiosity. Foster a feeling of goodwill. Ask as many clarifying questions as necessary. Do not try to trap or blame, seek understanding. For the sake of the exercise, think of at least 2-3 questions that could help or would have helped.

3. What is their perspective? Restate their perspective for them to hear in a way with which they would be completely satisfied and wholeheartedly agree. It is a generous and compassionate perspective of the other person, not some reduced characterization or strawman. We must steelman their argument and maybe even take the time to consider, Do I really disagree? At the very least, what do we agree on? Vocalize what you agree on. For the sake of the exercise, restate their opinion in the best version you can consider.

4. Share my perspective. Use assertive language. State actual needs and feelings. Use “I statements” or talk in “parts” to help. Avoid shame, and seek the deeper connection your vulnerability has enabled. For the sake of the exercise, structure an example of using at least one “I statement” and one talking in “parts”.

Depending on the situation, these steps may not always happen in the same order. But generally, understanding the other person (Step 3) follows curiosity (Step 2). And, Step 4 often clarifies Step 1 as we speak out loud.

May you find belonging and a deeper connection, and make more peace within yourself and your relationships.

The Peacemaking Series

You can view the rest of the videos in the Peacemaking Series HERE on YouTube. Each month, a companion article is released with new tools and insights. Next month’s topic is Forgiveness. To explore more articles by The Skyline Institute published in Public Square Magazine, visit us HERE. You’ll also find our original research supporting The Family Proclamation, along with videos and podcasts, at TheFamilyProclamation.org. Follow us on social media for more.

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The rule of law consists of a body of procedural standards. It requires those holding and exercising the authority to make, interpret, apply, and enforce laws to operate in accord with legal requirements. 

As a body of procedural standards, the rule of law is not romantic. It doesn’t turn out crowds in the street. And abiding by its requirements can be tedious—even frustrating. The demand to adhere strictly to legal principles sometimes stands in the way of achieving what we regard—perhaps entirely rightly—as important substantive goals. After all, substance is what ultimately matters, right?

Now, to be clear, the rule of law is not the rule of lawyers. It is not the rule of judges. It is not the rule of any particular government official. Whether someone is an executive officer, a legislator, or a judge, respecting the rule of law means staying properly within one’s constitutional lane even where one disagrees with the substance of what a coordinate branch of government is doing. It means respecting the lawfulness of decisions and actions one thinks are misguided or impede the achievement of what one regards—again, perhaps rightly—as extremely important objectives.

Judges, no less than other officials, are morally obligated to observe the rule of law, and history (including our own) is replete with cases of lawless judges imposing their will under the pretext of applying constitutional or other legal norms. Some notorious examples are Dred Scott v. Sanford, the pro-slavery decision that set the stage for the Civil War, and Roe v. Wade, striking down our nation’s laws protecting unborn children from abortion. So, respect for the rule of law does not mean that judges are entitled to do whatever they want. Nor does it mean that judges are always right. Nor does it mean that they always get the final say. But executive and legislative respect for the lawful rulings of courts validly exercising jurisdiction is a key component of the rule of law in systems like ours—just as judicial respect for lawful exercises of executive and legislative authority is such a component.

President Trump, like all modern presidents, is testing the limits of executive power under Article 2 of the Constitution. Sometimes he, like those other presidents, will be within those limits, even if he is getting near the edge; other times, he will cross the line. When he crosses the line, it is the duty of judges, whether they are Trump, Biden, Obama, Bush, or Clinton nominees, to rule against him. It is not the duty of judges nominated by a president to rule in favor of that president or his position in litigation in which the president is a party or has an interest. It is their duty—the duty of all judges in all cases—faithfully to apply the relevant common law norm, statute, or constitutional provision to the facts of the case. When the president is operating within the scope of his powers, it is the duty of judges to rule that his actions are constitutionally permissible, whether or not the judge happens to agree with those actions.

One of the achievements of President Trump’s first term, of which he should be proudest, is the appointment of excellent judges at all levels of the federal courts. Those judges, like other human beings—and (let us not forget) like presidents—are fallible and will not always get things right. But the vast majority of Trump nominees, their critics’ objections notwithstanding, are faithful constitutionalists. The President’s personally attacking them when they rule against him or his administration (and his utterly absurd defaming of Leonard Leo as someone who “probably hates America”) is worse than unseemly.

Every president, including the current one, will sometimes be wrong on questions of the scope and limits of his authority. In those cases, it will be the duty of the courts to uphold the Constitution and the rule of law by deciding the case against the president—ruling that he has exceeded his constitutional powers.

In doing that, you will show the public that your loyalty, too, is first and above all else to the Constitution and laws of our nation. That will only enhance your stature and credibility. For any president, it is the path to greatness.

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The fifth article in the Peacemaking Series, published in partnership with Public Square Magazine and Skyline Research Institute.

How often do you gossip? Chances are it’s higher than any one of us would like to admit. Our culture is saturated in gossip from tabloids and politics, to social media, conversation, and even prayer; gossip is everywhere. Christ made it clear, we will be held accountable to “every idle word” we speak (Matthew 12:36). As a Christian, how can one realistically avoid talking negatively about another person (James 4:11) or never spread a rumor (Helaman 16:22) when it is estimated 65 to 80% of all conversation is some form of gossip? (Emler, p.131).

Defining Gossip

In an effort to avoid semantic ambiguity, in this article, Gossip is defined as any conversation about another person who is not present. This is a slightly different way of discussing gossip from more conventional connotations, which typically illustrate gossip as a purely negative or false form of communication. Using the common definition for gossip limits the scope of interactions-while-discussing-others as a purely “sensational,” “false,” or even “malicious” form of communication. This popular negative connotation for gossip aligns with the apocryphal adage, which asserts, “Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people.”

This rather cheeky video was produced by the Skyline Research Institute as a part of their Peacemaking Series and reveals that while gossip gets a bad wrap, not all gossip is bad.

Positive and Negative Gossip

Expanding to a more “integrative definition and framework” for gossip to include all forms of private communication about someone else who is not present, provides the opportunity for more self-reflection on the nature of our individual communication (Cruz & Others’ meta-analysis provides the foundation for this and the following ideas of this section). Through the lens of this expanded definition, we can start to characterize gossip as either Positive or Negative. Whether negative or positive, the motivation and function for gossip remains relatively the same: to communicate right and wrong behaviour within a social group. Distinguishing positive from negative gossip is a combination of recognizing both tactics and motivation. 

Negative gossip discusses people’s mistakes or inadequacies as a tactic to advance individual integration within a social group, but does so at the expense of the social integration of the person being gossiped about. Negative gossip rehearses the behaviors of fault-finding, back-biting, and the proliferation of false information. Because of this, negative gossip is equally destructive whether discussing intimate relationships or those with celebrity status. Ironically, the consequences of promoting this kind of communication include social insecurity.  By using negative gossip, the user and group confirm negative gossip as appropriate within the social group, causing a spiral effect in the social culture of the group. In an effort to further integrate oneself with the group, negative gossipers increase their own social vulnerability and insecurity while eroding social credibility.

It’s hard to be in an environment where you recognize a culture of negative gossip, especially when one is part of the problem. Shakespeare, illustrating the point, used the analogy, “He that filches from me my good name robs me of that which not enriches him and makes me poor indeed” (Othello, 3.3). God long ago expressed the cause and effect relationship between our conversation and our own condemnation, “For by thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned” (Matthew 12:37). If one discovers themself suffering from the self-inflicted consequences caused by gossiping negatively, observe the truth in the proverb, “Where no wood is, there the fire goeth out: so where there is no talebearer, the strife ceaseth” (Proverbs 26:20), and the succinct advice “cease to find fault one with another” (D&C 88: 124).

Positive gossipers reinforce group norms and the appropriate behavior for relationships by celebrating successes and promoting the virtues of other people as the “standard” for their communication, whether at home, work, church, or online (Nelson, 2023). While a good place to start, positive gossip is more complicated than merely ‘saying nice things about other people.’ Oftentimes, we will have to make judgments about “ideas, situations, and people throughout our lives” (Judging Others). Not all criticism is negative gossip; however, positive gossip discusses strategies focused on maximizing strengths and employs empathy when recognizing weaknesses. As a leader, it would include recognizing weaknesses as springing from “unmet needs,” and as a Christian, condemning “the sin without condemning the individual” (Kimball, 1979).

Transitioning from Negative to Positive Gossip

Those who use positive gossip are socially favourable and attract like-minded conversation and consideration. Learning to transition from negative gossip to positive gossip is a socially attractive skill. Here is one tactic. To avoid sounding preachy, an individual can use questions that reorient the gossiper’s attention to the feelings, motivations, or circumstances of the person who is the subject of the gossip (Abramson, Cultivating Empathy). This helps foster empathy in the conversation or may challenge the negative gossipers’ perception of the situation. 

For example, a friend is hammering down on why the other presidential candidate is “the worst.” You might ask a question like, “What is the reason their party wants them to do that?” (focused on motivations), or “I can’t imagine how intense it must be to run a country. Can you?” (focused on feelings), or “Is there a reason why you think that policy won’t work? And have you heard another idea?” (focusing on circumstances), or “Have you had a personal conversation with someone who supports them? What did they think? Or, what do you think they’d say?” (challenges their perception).

Rehearsal on this skill can be done on one’s own. As a mind puzzle, consider shifting the following scenarios from negative gossip to positive gossip: 

– A spouse constantly criticizes a specific child.

– A neighbor expresses frustration with another neighbor’s behavior.

– A fellow coworker or student criticizes a boss’s or teacher’s policy.

– A friend shares intimate information about someone else (whether true or not).

Other tactics could include stressing common ground, changing the topic entirely, or addressing the deeper need. As a positive gossiper engaging with a negative gossiper, remember to recognize that this individual may be stuck in a habit of negative gossip, or acting out of an unmet need or insecurity. Stressing social unity, common ground, and mercy may validate them better than engaging in negative gossip.

A Parable for Conclusion

Now, to end with a story and a proverb.

A sentry stood at the edge of a town and watched as two families of settlers approached. 

The first family reached the town limits and asked, “What’s this town like? Is it good here?”

The sentry replied, “Well, what was it like where you left?”

They answered, “We loved it. Our hearts broke to leave. The people were kind and there was always enough, but we had to leave.”

The sentry replied, “You’ll find the same here.”

Shortly after, the second family arrived and asked, “What’s this town like? Is it good here?”

The sentry replied, “Well, what was it like where you left?”

They answered, “We hated it. Our hearts couldn’t wait to leave. The people were mean, and there was never enough, so we had to leave.”

The sentry replied, “You’ll find the same here.”

And Proverbs 18:21, “Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof.”

Want more?

Check out and share all 12 videos from the Peacemaking Series, now available on YouTube, or read similar research, videos, and podcasts at thefamilyproclamation.org. Return to Public Square monthly for more articles expanding on the academic and Christian theories used to create each video.

The post What If Gossip Isn’t a Sin—But a Skill in Peacemaking? appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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In the early years of gospel formation, Latter-day Saint parents and Primary leaders tend not to talk about the Wrath of God and instead focus on the positive and loving attributes of Christ described in the New Testament.  The ultimate goal is to become like Jesus. We often hear the phrase ‘Be Christlike’ and sing songs like “I’m trying to be like Jesus” and “I know Heavenly Father Loves Me.”   Children are taught to be kind, loving, gentle, meek, nice, charitable, and peacemakers. All of these attributes are essential, but incomplete.

The God of the Old Testament is Jesus Christ. In those scriptures, we see a God who follows through on consequences and values justice: the flood destroyed many, Sodom and Gomorrah were demolished, and the Israelites took 40 years to reach the promised land. In each of these stories, the consequences were a direct result of sinful choices. The God of Abraham is a God of covenants, who required His children to keep His commandments. I have heard many people state that they don’t like the God of the Old Testament because He seems too mean. It’s ironic when He’s described as not being “Christlike.”

In contemporary culture—and even within Latter-day Saint communities—there is growing pressure to be “nice” at all costs.  Unfortunately, this is happening in our wards too. I heard from one follower: 

One of the trends I’ve noticed is that our ward is increasingly becoming more divided due to new move-ins in the past couple of years who have brought an uneasy spirit into the ward. The underlying issue? No one wants to discuss hard topics for fear of possibly ‘offending’ others. Sigh. We are definitely living in the last days!

Perhaps we avoid difficult conversations, downplay doctrine, and hesitate to stand for truth because it might create discomfort. But is that Christlike? Or have we confused true kindness with mere politeness?

Perhaps we have also avoided teaching lessons about God’s justice: the moments when Christ rebuked hypocrisy or the times He boldly stood for truth despite opposition. While these stories might seem to contradict the loving Jesus we eagerly teach our children, could leaving them out unintentionally create an incomplete picture of discipleship—one that equates being Christlike with never making anyone uncomfortable?

Christ Was Kind, Not Merely Nice

If Jesus had only been “nice,” meaning primarily concerned about not causing discomfort to others, the Pharisees probably would have loved Him.  Perhaps they would not have sought His crucifixion. But His kindness—which calls people to repentance—made people uncomfortable.  Here are a few examples from Christ in the New Testament demonstrating this balance:

• Niceness would have ignored the woman at the well to avoid religious conflict. Kindness engaged her in truth, helping her recognize her spiritual need (John 4:7-26).

• Niceness would have let the rich young ruler walk away happy. Kindness told him the truth—that he lacked something, even if it was hard to hear (Mark 10:17-22).

• Niceness would have kept quiet before Pilate. Kindness bore testimony, even when it led to His crucifixion (John 18:37).

Clearly, kindness is not the absence of conflict—it is the presence of integrity.

Why Niceness is a Counterfeit Virtue

Many church members today may feel an increasing pressure to be nice rather than truthful. This shift reflects cultural trends, not gospel principles. Psychologist Jordan Peterson points out that “niceness” is often a socially enforced behavior, not a moral virtue. In contrast, kindness requires moral courage—the ability to do what is right even when it is hard socially. Psychologist Dr. Harriet Lerner describes this in her book The Dance of Connection:

Niceness is concerned with not upsetting others, even at the cost of honesty. True kindness is the ability to speak with clarity and care, even when the truth is hard to hear.

This distinction is critical in discipleship. The Savior was not simply “nice”—He was good. The difference? Goodness is rooted in truth. 

If we prioritize niceness over kindness, three common dangers arise:

1. Niceness Encourages Silence, Not Strength

Many hesitate to share their testimony of eternal truths—especially about family, gender, and discipleship—because they don’t want to offend. Elder Dallin H. Oaks, quoting Hugh Nibley, clarified, “You have to be willing to offend here, you have to be willing to take the risk. That’s where the faith comes in … Our commitment is supposed to be a test, it’s supposed to be hard, it’s supposed to be impractical in the terms of this world.” Truth spoken with love may still offend, but it is redemptive.

One sister shared with me,

I once hesitated to correct a Relief Society discussion that veered into personal opinions rather than doctrine. I worried that addressing it might seem unkind. But as I gently guided the conversation back to scripture and prophetic teachings, the Spirit in the room shifted. One sister later thanked me, saying she had been confused about the topic and appreciated the clarity. That experience taught me that truth delivered with love blesses rather than wounds.

Similarly, we’ve all been in situations where the desire for niceness overshadows the need for truth. For example, in one Relief Society class, a teacher started the lesson by asking, “What conference messages from the last conference did you find troubling? What didn’t you agree with?” Especially in this context, the question felt more divisive than enlightening, as it seemed to put personal opinion before the gospel message.

2. Niceness Seeks Social Approval, Not Divine Approval

Niceness is externally motivated—we want people to like us. Kindness is internally motivated—we want to follow Christ. The Pharisees were obsessed with appearing righteous (Matthew 23:5), yet Christ called them out for missing the heart of the gospel. Likewise, we are seeing the rise of a form of Christianity where doctrine is softened to fit social trends both within and outside The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. This isn’t kindness—it’s spiritual abandonment. We have ample illustrations from church history and contemporary church leaders of how to express truth kindly yet with clarity.  Some examples include the Church’s statements on  the Respect for Marriage Act, as well as the Church’s position on  abortion.

3. Niceness Avoids Truth, Kindness Applies Truth with Love

Kindness does not mean weaponizing truth or being harsh: it means speaking with both clarity and care. Elder Jeffrey R. Holland put it best: “Defend your beliefs with courtesy and compassion, but defend them.”

One of the best examples I’ve seen came during a Relief Society lesson about the temple garment. Before studying the General Conference talk, the teacher boldly started her lesson, saying we were not here to get contentious about our different opinions regarding the temple garment. “We are here to discuss the words and teachings of our General Conference speakers and to follow the guidance from the prophets.” This is the job of a Relief Society teacher. This is the format that we should have in our Sunday discussions.

A Call to Kindness

Niceness will never change the world. But kindness—which is grounded in truth—will. President Russell M. Nelson has repeatedly emphasized that true discipleship requires both love and loyalty to God’s laws. Kindness is not about keeping the peace at the expense of the truth. It is about speaking truth in a way that invites peace, that invites Christ. As disciples of Jesus Christ, we are called to be “peacemakers” (Matthew 5:9)—not by avoiding truth, but by sharing it with compassion and courage.

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For a Latter-day Saint, I’m unusually interested in alcohol.

I’ve rarely felt tempted to drink it; I know myself well enough to know it wouldn’t end well—when the Word of Wisdom speaks to “the weak and the weakest of all saints,” I smile and say thankfully, “That’s me.” And yet the names of unfamiliar spirits can send me down Wikipedia rabbit holes, seeking strange knowledge like the difference between “liquors” and “liqueurs,” or ales and lagers, and why James Bond drinks his martinis shaken, not stirred.

It’s the culture of the thing that attracts me: the history, the creativity; the vineyards from the Renaissance still run by the same families and the beers hand-brewed by monks; it’s the way a beverage (Scotch, bourbon, absinthe) can represent a place or a people or an era; it’s all the bottles in all the cellars of the world, filled decades ago by men now dead, waiting to be opened and emptied in an evening.

And we teetotalers get … Sprite? No, thanks. I’ll just have water.

This essay isn’t about alcohol. It’s about storytelling, and my vehicle for conveying my thoughts is Star Wars’ Andor, about to begin its second season on Disney Plus.

And then, a bit later, I realized something interesting was going on.

If you haven’t watched Andor, ask yourself: how would Hollywood usually treat these deaths? The guards were bad guys. They worked for the Empire, if only indirectly, and they were telling the protagonist at gunpoint that he had to give them money or go to jail. If they were in the original Star Wars trilogy, the movie would make sure you forgot them immediately—their dialogue would be limited to “Stop right there!” or “You rebel scum,” they’d be wearing helmets to cover their faces, and their voices would be distorted to help you pretend they’re not human. For allegedly antifascist art like Star Wars, it’s an awfully fascist way to treat people.

In Andor, these guys have faces, and their deaths have consequences.

While our protagonist anxiously builds a false alibi, we learn there are detectives on the case—two of them, the inspector and his deputy. The deputy has stayed up all night gathering evidence and thinks he can find the killer in a matter of days, but his boss is about to leave for a performance review where he has to report his crime statistics to the Empire. He knows what will happen if he ends his report with, “And by the way, two of my own were bumped off last night.”

The inspectors’ dialogue deserves an essay of its own. It’s an argument between youth and age, zeal and world wisdom, between an Imperial true believer and a very mild sort of Rebellion—it’s even a philosophical contest between deontology and consequentialism—and it’s all carried off with a mixture of wit and realism I can’t remember Star Wars ever achieving before. Both inspectors make good points; each is self-serving in ways he won’t admit, and if you think it’s obvious which decision they should make, then you probably haven’t thought the thing through.

And remember, these are the bad guys—low-ranking bad guys, no less, invested with agency, intelligence, and humanity. And they’re not the only ones.

Prison guards? They have faces, too. We see their sadism, yes, but also their fear of their victims and their mundane frustrations with being understaffed at work.

Imperial soldiers? We see their disappointment with bad assignments and their hope for a better life; we see their heroism, as when an Imperial colonel dies trying to save civilians.

Even in the Empire’s Gestapo, we see humanity: a rare woman in the officer corps, determined and talented, her eyes locked on whatever floats beyond the glass ceiling; a senior officer, undoubtedly a wicked war criminal but also a very good boss; a man—just one would-be righteous man—who’s realized what he’s involved in and desperately wants out.

We’ve come a long way from “These aren’t the droids we’re looking for.”

Now, back to alcohol.

There was a golden age of TV recently, or so I’ve been told. The mostly episodic shows of my childhood were replaced by a new era in which entire multi-season series were planned out before their pilots aired. Successful shows could become something like 40-hour movies, and writers used them to develop characters and themes in ways no visual medium had ever allowed before.

The golden age’s brightest gems could usually be found on HBO, whose The Sopranos and The Wire often appear as numbers 1 and 2 in rankings of the best TV shows of all time, with AMC’s Breaking Bad also in the conversation. If you follow publications that review pop culture, you could probably name another dozen acclaimed series from the era: Mad Men, parts of Game of Thrones, Deadwood, Six Feet Under, Girls, Fleabag, The Americans, and so on.

And we teetotalers get … Marvel? Disney? I love Encanto and Coco, but I get tired of choosing between movies for children and movies for perpetual adolescents; why is it so hard for a Latter-day Saint grown-up to find a grown-up movie?

No—really. I know some of you just rolled your eyes: “Where does this guy get off calling my favorite movies adolescent?”

But ask yourself how the typical PG-13 blockbuster presents the world lately, and especially its protagonist. He’s usually young and attractive—I say “he,” but “strong female characters” often fit the type—and he’s defined by two things: some special gift and some dream or destiny implied by the gift.

The gift and destiny define the story, too: maybe the protagonist knows his destiny, and the story will tell how he and his gift overcame the haters and doubters to attain it; or maybe he doesn’t know his destiny, and the story will tell how he discovers it. Either way, the decisive moment comes when the protagonist chooses once and for all to believe in his destiny and believe in himself.

What time of life does that story symbolize, if not adolescence, the age of discovering your talents and choosing your career? The story’s not about children, who define themselves by what they love and not yet by gifts and destinies; it’s not about the elderly, who have only one grand destiny left and yet often say they’re in the happiest time of their lives. It’s certainly not about the middle-aged, who are defined less by gifts than by burdens, and the many people who depend on them.

No: today’s typical blockbuster, in part for the most practical of box-office reasons, is about the most self-centered decade of American life: 15 to 24, the age when childhood dependency is ending and adult commitments aren’t yet formed—when you can choose whatever future you wish, and anything seems possible if you just want it hard enough. In fact, it’s the age portrayed by the original Star Wars, the age of Luke yearning to escape his uncle’s farm and “Do or do not, there is no try.”

There’s nobody like that in Andor.

In Andor, the rebels’ leader is daring and devious, but he can’t fight or even know what’s going on without his network of guerrillas and informers, any one of whom, if caught, could mean the end of him and all his schemes. The rebels’ financial backer has plenty of money, but she needs help to cover up what she’s doing; the Empire is closing in, and we watch in heartbreaking real time as she discovers she has already sacrificed her family to the cause.

Like human beings, Andor’s characters need each other. Like grown-ups, they know it. And so, when they interact—speak, touch, trust, doubt, betray—it actually matters.

Does it make each character less important not to be self-sufficient, not to make a difference by himself—not to have the one gift to rule them all?

Much the opposite. Let me ask you: when was the last time you saw a movie or series whose hero was elderly? I don’t mean a show with Harrison Ford or Samuel L. Jackson in his mid-70s, with directors and stunt coordinators straining the limits of their art to pretend he can still beat everyone up. I mean an old person behaving like an old person; in fact, I mean the true hero of Andor, the protagonist’s mother, Maarva, a sick old woman hobbling about on a cane.

She hasn’t always hobbled. In a flashback, we see her in an adventurous middle age, stealing salvage from a crashed ship minutes before the navy arrives and then risking her life to rescue an orphan from certain death. Later we hear she was the president of some big civic organization. But those days are long past when the show starts, and now she spends most of her time resting in a chair, nagging her aimless son when he’s present and fretting while he’s away.

Most blockbusters that included such a hero—and there aren’t many—would force her through the same adolescent character arc as their protagonist. Her incapacity is all in her mind! She just needs to believe in herself! Then she can prove she’s still got it, that she’s not so old after all.

Maarva might be the first elderly character I’ve seen whose heroism doesn’t require her to become young again, who conquers with the powers appropriate to old age. It’s her experience and wisdom—and even her day-to-day uselessness—that let her see the truth while her younger friends, blinded by daily cares, treat Imperial occupation as just one more of life’s hassles to be put up with and outlasted. And when she speaks, it’s the love she’s earned through a lifetime of service that makes her friends listen.

Not that they want to, not at first; at first, they don’t know whether to laugh or cry. What she’s taking on is so comically beyond her strength and so likely to cost them her life—forget spies and stormtroopers; if she doesn’t stay warm and take her medicine, she’s not going to last long enough to be captured. But once again, she sees what they don’t: the worth of what’s left of her life and the worth of what she can do with it.

* * *

Alcohol won’t always be dangerous. I don’t know whether its nature will change or ours will, but there will come a day when the saints and their Master drink of the fruit of the vine in their Father’s Kingdom, and no alcoholism or drunk driving or domestic violence will follow.

Someday, storytelling will be safe, too. Someday, “adult” won’t mean “pornographic,” and “mature” won’t mean “nihilistic”; someday, our culture won’t ask us to choose between childishness and wickedness.

In the meantime, though, I’ll be grateful that healthy grown-up stories aren’t quite as rare as Word of Wisdom–compliant grown-up drinks, even if, for the moment, our culture shows little interest in either. Star Wars looks set to move on as if Andor had never happened, and I expect it to keep spinning out mostly bad, mostly adolescent stories as long as people will still watch them, after which it may well be replaced by something still worse and more adolescent. (Probably something distributed on TikTok.)

But so what? I don’t have to watch all that. And if Andor’s moral revolution in Star Wars was doomed to fail, at least it had—like Maarva—the wisdom to know it should still try.

The post Why Andor’s Grown-Up Heroes Matter to Faithful Adults appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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Hulu’s recent series Devil in the Family tells the tragic story of Ruby Franke, a Latter-day Saint family vlogger who seemed to have it all until she was sent to jail for child abuse. Franke amassed millions of followers and more than a billion views on YouTube with fun and relatable videos of her family. But Hulu, armed with more than 1000 hours of Franke’s unseen footage, showed what was happening between the picture-perfect takes that made it to YouTube. It is painful to watch in more ways than one. 

There are things we could quibble with about how Latter-day Saints are portrayed in the series, such as the emphasis on Christ’s Second Coming and statements from church leaders and members, which are taken out of context. But in our conversations with Latter-day Saints, one of the most common themes we’ve heard is how relatable the Franke family seems. It’s easy to imagine Ruby, her (now) ex-husband Kevin, and their six children living on your street, attending your ward. We recognize the neighborhoods, the faith, the cultural pressures. More disturbingly, many Latter-day Saints see Ruby and Kevin in themselves. The resemblance, for some, is uncanny and unnerving. The series raises a troubling question: If this can happen in the Franke family, what can happen in mine? 

We do not think that Ruby’s story is somehow “representative” of Latter-day Saints in Utah or elsewhere. Few Latter-day Saints will go as far as Ruby did. But Ruby’s story provides a useful opportunity for self-reflection and self-evaluation.  As part of that reflection, we explore a few pressures and temptations which are relevant to the Franke case but which also apply to many others, both in the Church and out. Our observations and insights are limited by the information available, and our goal is not to pass judgment but to learn from this cautionary tale.

Perfectionism

One of the most relatable and disturbing aspects of the Franke story is not just the pursuit of perfection but the obsession with the image of looking perfect—happy, fulfilled, wholesome, airbrushed, aesthetic, and flawless. Even a ten-year-old knows the right angle to hold the camera for a selfie. This is not an issue found only in church culture. Western culture breeds it. We just happen to marinate in it in a way that confuses “be ye therefore perfect” with “be ye therefore polished.”

That distinction–seen as perfect rather than being good—matters. 

In a world where so much is being broadcast, or at minimum documented, there can be great pressure to want to look as if “all is well in Zion.” As a public-facing family with a broad audience, the pressure to maintain the image of perfection could feel even more extreme. But we should not let the desire to look perfect overpower our commitment to doing good. 

Perfectionism tends to conflate being righteous with being flawless, an impossible standard that sets us up for unhealthy self-criticism and disappointment. The emphasis on avoiding all mistakes (or at least the appearance of mistakes) can lead us to shame-based coping or discipline strategies. Jodi Hildebrant, Ruby’s friend, therapist, and later business partner, unfortunately, employed many shame-based tactics for behavior change within the Franke family. Despite the pretense that such strategies take misbehavior “seriously,” recent research shows that shame is not very motivating. If we really want to change ourselves or others, we should reach for other strategies. 

There tends to be very little forgiveness or grace in perfectionism. Any minor mistake, any flaw, is magnified to the point where we can no longer see the good in ourselves or others. And when we extend the expectation of perfection to our children, we overestimate our ability to control their behavior as well as their ability to live flawlessly. For example, most parents can relate to the experience of having a child throw a tantrum in a store. We may worry and think, “What do other people think of my parenting?” We mistakenly believe that good parents would not have children who act out in such public displays. However, the truth is that … kids are kids. All humans are imperfect and in a state of becoming. We all make mistakes, we all fall short. But our mistakes and shortcomings do not define us. 

As Dieter F. Uchtdorf has taught, God is not surprised by our mistakes, nor does he relish the thought of punishing us for our fallen nature. He wants us to learn and grow, and that process will include many mistakes: 

“We have all seen a toddler learn to walk. He takes a small step and totters. He falls. Do we scold such an attempt? Of course not. What father would punish a toddler for stumbling? We encourage, we applaud, and we praise because with every small step, the child is becoming more like his parents.” 

He continues:

“I believe in a Heavenly Father who is loving and caring and who rejoices in our every effort to stand tall and walk toward Him. Even when we stumble, He urges us not to be discouraged—never to give up or flee our allotted field of service—but to take courage, find our faith, and keep trying.”

Hildebrant’s counseling approach, which Ruby evidently adopted, distorted religious principles as she taught that “truth” required complete control, rigidity, and perfection. Further, when people fell short, Hildebrant thought the result should be extreme discipline (which became life-threatening in the case of the two youngest Franke children) or cutting off relationships. This is clearly a distortion of Latter-day Saint teaching and practice.

Perfectionism doesn’t allow for inevitable struggles, mistakes, and vulnerability of humanity. It hollows us out, leaving us empty and exhausted in our relentless pursuit of an impossible standard. But Christ does not demand that we be flawless—He invites us to come to Him. His perfection is not a measuring stick for our failure but a gift that bridges the gap between us and our Heavenly Father. Where perfectionism isolates us, Christ’s wholeness connects us. Where perfectionism shames, Christ redeems. When we let perfectionism go, we open the possibility of truly connecting with Him and others. 

Outsourcing Moral Responsibility

A challenge Kevin faced was different, nonetheless just as relatable for many. Early in the series, Kevin says he was very insecure.  He said he was “willing to do anything to keep” his relationship with Ruby, even when this meant leaving home and not contacting his wife or children for an unspecified amount of time. (From what we can gather, it seems that Kevin needed to prove to Jodi that he had changed in order to be let back into the family.)

This, tragically, opened the door to the worst abuse that the Franke children suffered. With Kevin out of the picture, Ruby and Jodi resorted to more extreme methods of discipline and punishment. When Kevin received a call from Ruby on the day the police raided Jodi’s house, Kevin said it was the first time he had talked to his wife in a year.

“A lot of people will look at me and say, ‘How could he ever do that?’ but for those who respectfully ask me about it and say, ‘How could you?’ my response to that is ‘Who do you love more than anybody?’ And I say, ‘Well, what would happen if that individual that you love more than anybody started to go another way and started inviting you and encouraging you to go with them?’ Would you be able to easily say, ‘Goodbye, you’re out of my life?’” 

No doubt, it is a difficult dilemma. Many of us probably would have responded the same way that Kevin did. But it seems that Kevin’s desire to stay connected with his wife overrode his best judgment about his family’s needs and moral responsibility. At one point Kevin said he was “1000% compliant” to what Ruby and Jodi told him to do with the hope that he could save his marriage. This willingness to do anything to preserve a relationship (or what’s left of it) is a dangerous place to be.

In 2 Nephi 2:14, Lehi teaches that God “created all things, both the heavens and the earth, and all things that in them are, both things to act and things to be acted upon.” When we outsource moral responsibility to other people in the hopes of gaining or keeping their approval, we give up our birthright as beings who are free to act. As painful as it may sometimes be, there should be lines that we are not willing to cross—not for our friends, not for our family members, not for people who threaten us with rejection for following our conscience.

This can be difficult because belonging and connection are innate, natural human needs. Family and friends can form the fabric of our lives. We need each other to thrive. At the same time, we must remember the first great commandment: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind” (Matthew 22:37). All other desires or goals are secondary. The desire for approval must not lead us to outsource our moral responsibility.

Following Flawed Influencers 

Finally, it seems that Ruby and Kevin allowed themselves to be unduly influenced by Jodi. The Franke’s (and many others) saw her as special, chosen—someone who had rare access to spiritual wisdom and knowledge. Jodi provided a kind of certainty and “answers” to issues that the Frankes were facing with parenting and life in general. (We note, in passing, that Jodi’s professional license had been suspended beginning in 2012 for unethical conduct. She was not a therapist in good standing when she began to advise the Franke’s.) Tragically, the more the Frankes let Jodi in, the more their lives fell apart.

Reflecting these broader cultural trends, Latter-day Saint influencers have also expanded their reach, amassing millions of followers and using these platforms to share content (hopefully positive) ranging from therapy to homesteading—all through a faith-centric lens. Their growing influence even led to 2024 being dubbed ‘the year of the Mormon women.’

President Russell M. Nelson has addressed the importance of managing our digital consumption and being mindful of online influences. Addressing the youth in June 2018, he challenged them to embark on a seven-day social media fast. He encouraged them to observe how this hiatus could affect their priorities and deepen their relationship with the Savior. Later, he extended a similar invitation to the women of the Church asking them to participate in a ten-day social media fast, emphasizing the need to reduce distractions and focus on spiritual matters. He also invited men to review their online habits in an inspirational call to do and “be better”. The message is clear: the world is full of competing voices vying for our attention, but we can be intentional about what we allow to shape us. We don’t have to be slaves to the algorithms.

It’s also worth remembering the non-digital ways we can influence others. Carol reflects on her own mother’s impact:

She wasn’t famous. Seeking attention wasn’t her way. But she had a unique gift for finding those in need of friendship, welcoming them into our family circle, and right up to our dinner table. In later years, I’ve come to understand more clearly the sadness she carried and the insecurities she battled. She struggled with her image, yet she continued to offer herself—first to bring me and my siblings into the world and then to care for us through a lifetime of devotion.

I can’t begin to count the hours she spent giving us rides to activities, wrangling younger siblings while watching me perform in a play, or with my shaky, squeaky violin in a school orchestra. Then, hurrying home to make dinner (which, to my shame, we often complained about), only to still manage to pull us into folding clothes and keeping the house clean—ensuring it was always comfortable enough for friends to drop by unannounced.

She had one driving passion—one she shared with us, imbuing us with a love for family history. As the only child and only member of the Church in her ancient family line, she breathed life into our ancestral past and inspired me to consider my own legacy.

She fought her battle with cancer to her last ragged breath, not in defiant resistance, but in love.

She didn’t curate a “feed” or seek validation through likes and shares. She simply lived—a life of sacrifice, service, and steadfast love. She wasn’t perfect, and she would be frustrated by any attempt to paint her that way. But somehow, her unseen efforts—those small, daily acts—shaped me more than any algorithm ever could.

My mom built something real, something lasting—she built me.

In a world obsessed with platforms and personas, algorithms may decide what appears on our screens, but we decide whether or not to look. We can seek out influences (digital and otherwise) that are quiet, unpolished, unseen by the masses—but real. We each have agency.

At the very end of Devil in the Family, Kevin reflects on the meaning of his story. He concludes by saying, “Ultimately, it’s a story of faith. If you put your faith in the wrong hands, you can lose everything.” As he says these words, the viewer is flown over a statue of the angel Moroni on the top of an LDS temple. The producers’ implication seems clear: the Frankes trusted their religion too much, and this led to their downfall.

That is not how we would sum up these lessons. What stands out is not just the cautionary tale of a family unraveling under pressure but the deeply personal challenge of self-examination. It is easy to watch someone else’s story and opine about where they veered from their values. It is far more difficult to be honest about where we might be doing the same.

If we care more about reflecting God’s image than curating our own, we will be less tempted to mask our struggles with a performance of perfection. If we have the integrity to act in ways that align with our values—even when it’s inconvenient or unpopular—we will be less likely to hand over our moral responsibility to others. And if Christ and His teachings are our greatest influence, we will be less susceptible to the voices that would distort, manipulate, or diminish our ability to truly love and lead.

The devil gets in where there is pretense, where there is self-deception, and where there is fear. But where there is truth, integrity, and divine influence, he has no foothold. That is the lesson worth taking from this story—and it is one of faith.

The post Influenced: The Troubling Familiarity of Ruby Franke’s Story appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

Sandra began visiting The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when she was about 10 years old with her Grandma, a kind woman who was searching for something better after two painful divorces due to partner infidelity. What both Sandra and her Grandma found was not perfection, but they did find a context where two “peculiar” standards were explicitly named and idealized: (1) the law of chastity that required that sex be kept inside the bounds of traditional marriage, and (2) the word of wisdom forbidding the use of alcohol and illicit drugs.

At only 10 years of age, Sandra had found the faith she desired. She wanted to be baptized and become a member. Her Dad, a man of deep integrity and honesty who believed in keeping promises, asked her to wait to make baptismal covenants until she was 18. So, she attended church for eight years on her own with the help of her Mother, who lined up rides for Sandra with a friend who belonged to the faith.

Sandra applied to BYU while not yet an official member of the church she had come to love. She was admitted to BYU, then turned 18 and was baptized. With hair almost literally still wet from baptism, Sandra chose to attend BYU. As valedictorian of a large high school in Spokane, Washington, she had scholarship opportunities elsewhere, but she wanted to see and learn about how her new faith worked “up close.” Sandra remembers, “My first ever Family Home Evening was with other BYU students and included prayer, a devotional, and a fun activity.” It was a far cry from the sex, drugs, and booze scene she had witnessed at her Pacific Northwest high school. Referring to her Family Home Evening group and BYU Singles Ward, she asked, “Where else could you go school-wise and step into an immediate, organized, and socially structured group where college boys and girls serve each other and are served by each other?”

Upon arrival at BYU, Sandra remembers that there were a few BYU students she knew who did not honor the law of chastity and the word of wisdom. Sandra saw her share of both hypocrisy and self-righteousness. However, Sandra also saw roommates who imperfectly but honestly strived to live out their faith’s ideals and BYU’s aims. She saw roommates who studied their scriptures, prayed privately, and served others when they believed no one was watching. During her first week at BYU, one of her roommates, who missed her family prayers, recommended that the roommates have “apartment prayer” together each night. Sandra recalled, “At first, I thought it was peculiar and strange, but when I heard my roommates praying personally for me, I felt a closeness and a kinship that really lifted and helped me.” It would help set a pattern for the family prayers Sandra now has with her own children and husband each night.

During an early bout of homesickness while at BYU, Sandra said, “My Family Home Evening group of three guys and four girls asked me to go to Moab with them for some hiking and mountain biking. It was a platonic and uplifting experience.” A life-long friend named April, now a cancer survivor and mother of six, resulted from this group.  While having a ball on the Moab trip with her Family Home Evening group, Sandra found herself asking, “How many college camping trips involve zero sex and alcohol?” Many young adults might yawn thinking about a G-rated adventure. However, given the significant fallout Sandra had witnessed from unbridled sex and alcohol abuse, the context was a peaceful contrast.

In BYU classrooms, Sandra had a few forgettable, lukewarm professors, but she also had some exemplary professors who “bathed” their respective subject in “the light of the Gospel” and then went further and learned Sandra’s name, some of her story, and strengthened her budding faith.

As a recent convert who had only one semester of Seminary (daily religious education for Latter-day Saint high schoolers), BYU’s religion classes were often meaningful for her. Sandra did not care for the occasional focus on pedantic details instead of on the expansive scope of the Gospel she had come to love. “I thought that approach was dumb then, and I still do,” she said. However, she loved Professor Camille Fronk Olsen’s “passionate” approach to faith in general and the New Testament in particular. Twenty years later, Sandra bumped into Professor Olsen, who recognized Sandra and warmly greeted her. It is something Sandra will always remember.

“Being a convert with no home-based religious experience and almost no Seminary experience, my religion classes taught me how to study and learn from the scriptures. My testimony of Jesus grew.”

In addition to Camille Fronk Olsen, another woman who had a lasting impact on Sandra was (then) head women’s basketball coach Sondra “Soni” Adams, who was inducted into the University of Utah Hall of Fame in 2023. “Soni did not just teach a ‘class,’” Sandra recalled, “she gave me personal feedback as a person, teacher, and coach and emphasized character above all else.” Sandra has since coached a number of teams ranging from six-year-old beginners to varsity high school squads, where the same emphasis on character has remained central.

Sandra has never forgotten that the vast majority of her undergraduate tuition and 100% of her tuition as a graduate student at BYU was paid for by tithing funds from her sisters and brothers in the faith—a truly unrepayable mountain of sacred debt.

How has Sandra tried to repay her unpayable debts? She has been able to serve in the lay-member-operated Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in four states over the last 30 years, including service in Primary (Children’s), Young Women, and Relief Society (Women) presidencies at both local and regional levels. In these efforts and experiences, she has drawn heavily on organizational skills she saw modeled during her early and formative BYU years, by faculty and her peers, and by BYU ward members whose influence remains in her life three decades later.

“Why did I want to teach at BYU?” Sandra asked. “Because of the positive influence my teachers and peers had on me … I wanted to be a part of that again, this time from the teaching end. I wanted to pay it forward.”

The second Sunday of most months is “BYU Sunday” in Sandra’s kitchen,  when Sandra serves up a home-cooked meal to anywhere between a handful to 30 students. These gatherings often include the children of her old BYU friends like April, who has had three of her own kids come to BYU from Oregon. Sandra explained, “I want to return the friendship to these students that their parents gave to me.” There are often other dinner attendees as well—students from her classes who may have had a rough week or month. “I want them to know that they are loved and belong.” She said.

In terms of ideals, Sandra finds it intriguing that the very ideals of the law of chastity and the word of wisdom that powerfully drew her initially to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and then to BYU are the same ideals that often draw fire and ire from others. Sandra understands that her beloved church and school may not be the love or choice of others, but they have blessed her deeply, and she hopes that she can relay similar blessings to others.

Sandra’s life experiences have led her to be grateful that BYU does make some peculiar demands. She readily admits that is a university that asks a great deal—but as she has learned, so does excellence in any endeavor. Sandra holds a hope that students and faculty who come to BYU will remember and embrace its “Christ-centered and prophetically directed” mission and that they will be beneficially challenged in life-changing ways as she has been.

Sandra is not the only student who feels an “unrepayable debt” to BYU and to the faithful tithe payers who subsidize the vast majority of this educational experience. Of the nearly 700K alumni across BYU’s three campuses, most are grateful for their time in these unique and even sacred settings. Like Sandra, many present and past alumni have seen ripple effects in their own lives—and in the lives of those they “go forth to serve.”

As we finish our time with this remarkable convert student turned professor, we can justifiably ask for a confessed fatal flaw or two. “Well, my husband tells me that I am a BYU Creamery ice cream addict,” Sandra admits. Her rebuttal? “I tell him that ice cream is my osteoporosis prevention program … but you better not put that in the article.”

The post Bright Days at BYU: The Story of a Convert Student Who Became a Professor appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

Overarching Principles

In light of the guiding presumptions about divine human nature in the Christian Virtue approach, the guiding principles for healing from CPU are meant to lead persons to align their life away from misunderstandings of their true nature, false visions of life’s purpose, and the overcoming of vices so as to point them towards and fill their lives with truth and virtue. These simple principles, though presented in a particular order, are not necessarily linear steps. Rather, they represent overall priorities and practices to guide healing.

Principle #1: Reorient One’s Understanding of Agency and Life’s Purpose

Persons work to re-understand (1) who they really are as moral agents, learning to accept responsibility for the many choices and priorities they make that contribute to their compulsions, and (2) accepting that because of their agency and its perfected flourishing made possible in Christ, there is a possibility of thorough and genuine change (i.e., repentance). In other words, persons work to accept that repentance is possible and that they can truly have a change of heart because of Christ ennobling their agentic natures rather than focusing on believing CPU is a permanent disease out of their control. They further work on refocusing their life vision away from self-fulfillment and towards truth and virtue, and they strive to do what is best for others (i.e., being other-focused/motivated by charity and love) rather than focusing primarily on themselves. This includes seeking to understand how CPU fits into their lives and what habits reinforce it so they can know what specifically they need to change.

Principle #2: Develop Virtue(s)

As persons work to “catch the vision” of who they truly are and what a true and virtuous life is all about, they focus on developing specific habits to reinforce that vision. That is, they endeavor to purposively replace the particular compulsive vices, which are often taken for granted in the everydayness of their specific life context, with virtuous habits and priorities to reinforce the true and virtuous vision of life’s purpose. It must be remembered that the practice of virtue is not like a pill that is taken only a few times or a coping skill to use when faced with temptation. Virtue implies a reorienting of one’s very character and, as such, must be practiced throughout one’s life and daily routine, both in the face of temptation and away from it.

Principle #3: Reorder One’s Life Overall Towards the Good & Virtuous

There is an overhaul, in a sense, of a person’s daily living that takes place in which they work to be well-ordered towards goodness. Although much of healing is focused on the first two principles and, in some sense, is summarized in this third principle, people remember that healing is a holistic endeavor involving their heart, character, lifestyle, relationships, goals, priorities, obligations, and more. A good scripture that reflects this principle is where the Lord has asked us to “organize [our]selves; prepare every needful thing, and establish a house, even a house of prayer, a house of fasting, a house of faith, a house of learning, a house of glory, a house of order, a house of God.” Many of the life skills taught by therapists and self-reliance principles taught by the Church dovetail nicely with this principle.

As my colleagues and I have summarized in a forthcoming article, “to heal from CPU, a person must reconstruct their life by reconstructing their vision of the good life and replacing the vicious habits contributing to their compulsive use with virtuous ones that provide new life, new purpose, and deeper meaning.” As will hopefully make more sense by the end of this article, a well-ordered, virtuous heart and life is the goal of healing, not merely abstinence.

Individual Healing

So, how do these principles specifically play out in the efforts of an individual’s healing? Let us use the hypothetical case scenario of Jack to illustrate and expand on the principles of healing. Like many, Jack has struggled with CPU since around the time of puberty, getting clear of it long enough to serve a mission but then struggling with it again post-mission as he got back into school. He married a wonderful woman, Crystal, about a year after being home. To his credit, he has been honest and vulnerable with Crystal from the beginning about his compulsive use, which has helped immensely with their marriage and her being able to maintain trust and support.

Besides the virtues of honesty and vulnerability, which he has tried to practice from the beginning (many begin developing honesty only after getting caught or later on in the healing process), Jack first begins to practice the virtue of self-awareness. He starts a journal to keep track of his daily habits, routines, emotional patterns, priorities, cares, and concerns, and especially to describe in as much detail as possible his context and intentions during the times temptation is strong or when he gives into it and views pornography. He tries to figure out the specific role CPU plays in his life. Doing so helps him realize the many choices he makes that invite compulsive viewing, realizing his agency in the matter. In particular, he notes that he spends large amounts of time alone on electronic devices, particularly when he is bored or has any free time to kill. He frequently takes his phone to the bathroom as well, which helps him realize the small rituals he goes through to ensure he is alone to view porn, and he seeks to abandon those rituals.

He has noted that he avoids responsibilities and obligations to his wife, work, church, family, and school until the last minute, choosing instead to watch YouTube videos or dwell on social media for large portions of time (i.e., avoidance is a vice). Many of these habits lull him into a place of apathy (a vice) and leave him vulnerable to higher bouts of temptation. Thus, for him, giving into temptation is most often correlated with avoiding responsibility, boredom, as a way to deal with stress, or as a way to cope with tension and pain in his marriage. Over time, he begins to accept responsibility for all of these patterns and, in particular, that he is responsible for his emotional states and responses, especially those related to his marriage. He also begins to confront the many justifications he engages in little by little until he finally gives in to temptation (e.g., “I’m just too tired to fight it,” “People don’t understand how hard this is,” or “I’m just checking sports scores, not going to look at cheerleader pics”).

The overarching virtue he begins to practice is intentionality. He has realized that much of his life has been characterized by the vice of whimsy in that he tends to let his fluctuations in mood and whims of the moment guide his decisions and priorities (see MacIntyre on emotivism). Instead, he practices being purposeful in all of his decisions. This is not to say that he becomes a workaholic or a busybody (two false visions). Rather, it means that he learns how to always have a clear purpose for what he does such that if anyone were to ask what he is doing and why, he has a clear answer. For example, even when choosing to relax and watch a movie, it is an intentional choice rather than it being the result of an “I might as well” mentality. There is a big difference between “I’m tired, I might as well find something to watch” and “I’m tired, I’m going to watch two episodes of my favorite show to rejuvenate my energy.” He eschews mindless scrolling, gaming, and browsing because that is not an intentional use of time or technology. Furthermore, being intentional is taken as the virtue to guide the practice of all other virtues.

 In addition, he begins to practice several other virtues, including the virtue of integrity (e.g., keeping his promises and obligations), friendship (e.g., he establishes more “genuine human connection” by socializing more and even building relationships with others who struggle with CPU), fortitude (e.g., being able to suffer pain, disappointment, heartache, and even boredom without it keeping him from doing what is right), and many more. He works on curbing his unfettered curiosity (a vice). Additionally, he begins to work on keeping a schedule, being active regularly, sleeping better, staying hydrated, and all around creating a life of order and harmony in line with truth and virtue. He strives harder to let “God prevail” in his life by becoming more actively engaged in his ministering, callings, daily prayer, scripture study, and temple attendance.

All of these things are not practiced as isolated virtues or mere coping skills used at the moment of temptation (though he learns a few helpful techniques, such as mindfulness, to help when temptation is overwhelming). He has tried that, and it is not enough to change his heart. Rather, he practices them in all aspects of his life. For example, he seeks to be honest and vulnerable not only when temptation happens but when he is struggling in other areas of life as well. This leads him to be more compassionate with others no matter where he is, especially with his wife.

Taking all of this as his guide, he creates boundaries for himself that help remind him where a virtuous life is to be found and help him shape his life and habits better. He sets time limits on his technology use. He does not allow himself to be alone with electronics in his room. He is not allowed to mindlessly scroll. These boundaries change and update based on how well he is doing, and at the beginning, some of the strictest rules snap into place during moments when he is experiencing the most temptation.

Spousal Support

Although it has, at times, been very difficult and painful, Crystal has been a strong support for Jack throughout this whole process. She supports him in at least three ways. First, she realizes that she is in a covenant relationship with Jack, and as such, she does not push him to the side and ignore his struggles even though they are painful for her. She recognizes the pain that his sin is creating for both of them but also recognizes that Christ is part of the covenant and the true source of healing. So, she works to forgive and lean on Christ more in her life so she can invite Jack to do so as well.

Second, she remembers the idea that Jack has two natures. As she ponders on his (and her) first nature—that they are relationally enmeshed moral agents, children of God with the power to change—she realizes that she can help him be responsible for his actions and that they are both of infinite worth. Healing and repentance are possible for both of them because of their first nature and its ties with being Godly offspring. As she ponders on his (and her) second nature—the many habits and priorities that constitute who they currently are and how they live—she does not overlook what Jack needs to change to fully repent. Rather, she focuses her efforts specifically on helping him recognize those patterns, clearly but kindly sets expectations, and offers suggestions for change. All efforts to help are done in a charity-filled way (she prays constantly for such charity and kindness) to help him change. She works to never let herself confuse the two natures. She knows Jack is first a child of God for whom Christ has suffered, and second, he is a man with specific, albeit very painful, sins.

Third, she joins Jack in trying to reorder their lives together towards truth and virtue. She recognizes that she, too, is caught up in many of the vices that invite addictions into her own life (e.g., she spends many hours on social media and window shopping online instead of spending time with Jack or on other projects) and recognizes that it is easier to practice virtue with someone rather than alone. So, she helps Jack be accountable to the boundaries and virtue-oriented goals he has set for himself, as well as setting boundaries and goals for herself. As appropriate and in counsel with Jack, they find others on whom they can rely for support, especially during some of the painful times when Jack gives into temptation while he works towards making virtue more permanent in his life.

Healing in Christ

What I have provided here is a specific case example by which to illustrate the principles and virtues understood in the Christian Virtue approach to be essential to healing. As such, it is not meant to be a perfect representation of the specifics of every person’s struggle with CPU. The key for readers is to ponder on these principles, work at self-awareness, and seek revelation on how best to apply them in the specifics of their lives. CPU plays a specific role in each person’s life, and each person has specific habits and patterns that reinforce its role and place. In my experience, however, they are often very similar to those false visions and vices presented here. Many of the principles here are also in line with many of the techniques and therapeutic approaches already in place, such as seeking out mentorship, the Addiction Recovery Program, journaling, and learning impulse and emotional control. That being said, readers are invited to take their thoughts and the wisdom found here and elsewhere, to the Lord and ponder on how best to move forward in faith towards healing.

I hope that in these articles, I have made it sufficiently clear that the example of the Savior is what defines a virtuous life and that any approach to healing, especially this one, must have Him at the core. One of the things that has bothered me the most through the years is how many church-related firesides, academic presentations, or lessons on CPU hardly discussed Jesus Christ because they were so focused on fascinating brain studies or hyper-psychological theories about addiction to the point that Christ was a mere afterthought, if mentioned at all. That being said, I would like to finish with this quote from the forthcoming manuscript my colleagues and I have written, which re-emphasizes and clarifies the role of Jesus Christ in the application of the principles of healing mentioned here.

To heal, we must seek after Christ and desire truth and virtue, and “as we show forth a willingness to develop new habits, Christ changes us, our hearts, our desires, and new habits unfold in that process.”

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