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What conditions make violence against women more likely?

I first began asking this after an experience as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Northeastern Brazil, when we passed by a home where a woman had just, the night prior, been killed by her husband.

I’ll never forget that day. Neighbors were speaking on the street in hushed tones about how they had heard the screams. Rather than a surprise, this woman’s violent death seemed to have followed years of torment at the hands of her husband—so much so that some who lived close-by admitted they had become used to it.

How was this even possible? How could anything like this take place, I wondered, especially at the hands not of strangers, but of men most responsible to nurture, love and protect?

Women around the world continue to face disheartening levels of violence from husbands, boyfriends, dates, colleagues and sometimes strangers. Perhaps if we understood—truly understood, at a deeper level—why such abuse was taking place, we could do something more about it.

Several years ago, Public Square Magazine generously provided initial funding for me to gather a research team to gather published studies around the world that get at the roots of this question. Our small team reviewed thousands of studies to identify those focused specifically on risk factors for sexual violence. 

Our team paid careful attention to risk factors for both sexual perpetration and victimization. The studies explored span the globe, uniting insights from dedicated research teams doing incredible work in many countries and across a wide variety of settings (campuses, workplaces and homes). We also paid careful attention to general studies of “domestic violence” or “intimate partner violence,” which tend to include some degree of sexual coercion and abuse as well.

Earlier this year, I completed this review of 500 abuse studies (285 adult, 215 youth), publishing a summary version of these results in the Deseret News, and the full-length, 73 page version also posted on my Substack last month. 

In this project, we have hoped to add to the ongoing, international project to “further unravel the complicated … interactions related to victimization,” as European analysts wrote recently—ultimately considering how “specific combinations of characteristics may contribute to an increased likelihood of victimization.”

In 2014, however, other CDC researchers admitted, “Rates of sexual violence remain alarmingly high, and we still know very little about how to prevent it.”

The good news is that if we can capture a clearer picture of what’s really making this kind of tragic violence against women more likely, we can then take more effective steps to eradicate this evil which terrorizes so many women (of all ages and backgrounds) around the world today.

Here, I provide a summary analysis of patterns that make sexual violence against women more likely—with a deeper focus on patterns in relation to faith and religiosity. After reviewing these results, I will touch on practical steps that families and communities can take—each of which follow from these findings. 

10 patterns associated with increased vulnerability

1. Fragile family economic well-being

Women growing up in difficult economic circumstances (insufficient family income, lack of employment, food insecurity) are more vulnerable to being victimized sexually—while men growing up in these same circumstances are more vulnerable to becoming sexually aggressive.

The opposite is also true in homes where economic needs are met (sufficient income, employment and food), consistently showing men and women in these families being protected from being drawn into sexual violence and other kinds of abuse too.

While having paid work outside the home acts as a preventive measure against sexual violence for some women, many studies in developing countries find the opposite—with formal employment sometimes heightening a risk of victimization for women, especially those with isolated jobs or which involve night shifts.

2. Limited educational opportunities

Studies around the world show women to be more vulnerable to sexual violence when they have little to no education. Men are also more likely to be sexually aggressive when they are illiterate, or have a lower level of formal education.

The opposite is again true, with women who have more years of education frequently less likely to be victimized and men with more education are also less likely to perpetrate sexual violence.

There are exceptions to this protective effect from education since some campus environments appear to raise the risk of sexual violence. And there are some parts of the world where a woman with more education than her husband somehow raises her risk of being victimized.

3. Living in an unhealthy, conflicted intimate relationship

Women who are divorced, cohabiting or living alone are all at greater risk for sexual violence, according to different studies. None of this means married women are automatically safer, however, with so much depending on how cooperative and happy a marriage is, along with how much serious conflict is involved.

4. Raising young children without adequate support

According to multiple studies, the presence of children in a home increases a mother’s risk level for abuse victimization generally—likely due to the added stress this places upon marriages and families.

Whether due to marital conflict, economic struggles, mental health challenges or additional children, families enduring heightened levels of stress clearly appear more vulnerable to different kinds of abuse.

Even the addition of a single child raises victimization risk, with studies also showing heightened vulnerability to abuse at the hands of an intimate partner during pregnancy. Sadly, women unable to have children face additional victimization risk. And in some parts of the world, having a daughter instead of a son likewise increases the risk of victimization.

The quality of parenting clearly makes a difference for what a child’s future safety will be as adults. A home life that is chaotic, disrupted, impoverished, with parents who are uneducated, addicted or divorced, raises the risk of eventual victimization for that child as they become an adult.

5. Drug and alcohol abuse

Few factors have received more consistent empirical verification than the impact of alcohol and drugs—not only on men who are significantly more likely to perpetrate sexually under the influence of substances, but also on women who are more likely to be sexually victimized under the influence.

As Italian researchers summarize, “alcohol can impair cognition, distort reality, increase aggression, and ease drug-facilitated sexual assault.”

Drug use can also “render a victim incapable of defending themselves or unable to avoid dangerous situations where victimization may occur” according to U.S. researchers.

This is especially true with heavy, regular substance use, which U.S. researchers in one campus study called “one factor that has been found in most studies to be associated with higher risk for sexual aggression.”

There appears to be even higher vulnerability when both a man and woman are under the influence, with one U.S. research team concluding, “the amount of alcohol consumed by both perpetrators and victims also predicted the amount of aggression and type of sexual assault.”

If you grew up in a home with alcohol or were exposed to alcohol and other substances at an early age, there’s also evidence of increased risk for sexual violence as an adult. Alcohol is also one major reason sexual violence is often higher in college, especially campuses with a cultural acceptance of heavy drinking as a social norm.

6. Early, risky, casual sexual behavior

When women have sexual experiences earlier in life, they are at greater risk of sexual violence—especially when that involves casual “hook-ups” with multiple people. One research team called this “simple probability,” in that “multiplying partners would increase the chances of being involved with a violent partner.”

Repeatedly, studies also confirm that higher numbers of sexual partners increase the likelihood of men perpetrating sexual violence.

Cohabitation and extramarital affairs likewise raise the risk of sexual violence, as does overall impulsivity. For example, gambling is associated with increased risk of both perpetration and victimization.

In the other direction, stronger impulse control and overall self-control unsurprisingly protect against sexual violence.

Relatedly, over 100 studies have linked compulsive pornography use to sexual aggression, coercion and violence against women and children. For instance, one 2015 analysis examining 22 studies from 7 different countries concluded that pornography consumption was “associated with sexual aggression in the United States and internationally, among males and females, and in cross-sectional and longitudinal studies.”

7. Ongoing, significant mental health challenges

It’s expected that victims would experience depression and anxiety in the difficult aftermath of abuse. There’s also evidence that women who experience mental health problems are at greater, additional risk of being victimized sexually—as are those who endure traumatic effects from any previous abuse.

Studies also find that men with different mental health challenges, including depression and bipolar disorder, can sometimes be at greater risk of perpetration. And there are cases in which medical treatments appear to have prompted sexual aggression among male patients that was “wholly alien to their character and antithetical to their prior behavior,” in the words of one psychiatrist.

In terms of victimization, Canadian researchers also note several studies confirming that “psychotropic drug abuse” can sometimes alter women’s judgment and “keep them from recognizing and avoiding dangerous situations and defending themselves against an attack.”

8. Adverse childhood experiences and young adult aggression

The atmosphere of one’s family upbringing can influence risk for sexual victimization and perpetration as an adult. Studies highlight lower levels of earlier “family cohesion” and “emotional expressiveness in the family” as predicting later abuse.

Witnessing significant fighting between a mother and father as a child also raises later victimization risk—especially if that conflict is unresolved and leads to separation and divorce. Any type of family disruption and residential displacement increases the risk of sexual victimization and exploitation. This risk rises to an entirely new level, however, for children who have witnessed parents hurting each other physically, emotionally or sexually.

When those children get hurt emotionally or physically, they experience even more risk for victimization or perpetration when they grow up. This is especially true when children are sexually victimized, with German researchers observing that “sexual abuse in childhood increases the odds of experiencing and engaging in sexual aggression in adolescence and young adulthood.”

This has been known for decades now, with U.S. researchers stating back in 1998, “childhood sexual abuse consistently predicted sexual re-victimization in adulthood.”

That risk rises even more when multiple kinds of early abuse are involved, with Swedish researchers reporting that exposure to different kinds of abuse in childhood was “found to be the most potent risk factor for sexual violence in adulthood among adult women.”

When women experience sexual violence as a young adult—be that from a boyfriend or stranger—they are also more likely to be victimized again (even repeatedly).

9. Limited social support and expanding isolation

One pattern that seems especially clear empirically is that anytime a woman is isolated she is more at risk. This includes women who: (1) communicate less with their own family of origin, (2) live at a residence with no other adults, (3) have only a transient place of residence, (4) live in a rented house (especially by themselves), (5) work a night shift, and (6) experience barriers to healthcare access.

This may also explain why women (and children) living in a “post-conflict” zone or areas that have recently endured natural disasters experience heightened risk for sexual victimization.

In the other direction, those women who report experiencing the support of friends, family and surrounding community are less likely to be victimized sexually. 

But a lot depends on the attitudes of surrounding relationships. It’s clearly no great protection to be surrounded by in-laws or other neighbors who see violence in a marriage as “sometimes justified.” And being around friends who also experience sexual violence or normalize any kind of abuse also measurably raises the risk of victimization for women.

Clearly, not all communities have equal levels of awareness of this problem. That is even more apparent when we look back through different time periods in history when global awareness of this danger was far less.

10. Limited religious community and faith commitment

Religious faith plays an important role in the risk for sexual violence. For instance, one set of studies finds a lack of religious affiliation to be associated with more likelihood of sexual perpetration among men and sexual victimization among women. For instance: 

• “Low religious involvement” in the family raises risk for abuse among immigrant women in Spain (Vives-Cases, et al., 2014). 
• Women “lacking religious commitment” are at greater risk of victimization in Mozambique (Maguele, et al., 2020).  
• “Lack of faith and lower attendance at religious services correlated with higher levels of abuse” according to U.S. researchers—sharing their findings that women abused during pregnancy “professed less religious faith and religious service attendance” (Dunn & Oths, 2004). 
• “Being less involved in religious activities” is among the “risk factors for dating victimization” (Vézina & Hébert, 2007). 
• “Non-Christians were at increased risk for clinically significant intimate partner violence victimization” in a study of U.S. Air Force personnel (Foran, et al., 2011).
• There is higher risk of intimate partner violence among women who “practiced no religion” in a Kenyan study (Memiah, et al., 2021). 
• “Being without religion” is “associated with increased chances of rape” in a Brazilian study (Diehl, et al., 2022). 
• Citing “lack of church attendance” as one of the characteristics that are “common risk factors for abuse,” Lown & Vega, 2001 found additional evidence that “no or infrequent church attendance” among women was among a set of factors associated with more intimate partner violence. “No church attendance or infrequent church attendance significantly increased the odds of intimate partner violence” among women, they stated—adding that “religious involvement has been shown to be protective in previous studies as it was in our sample.”
• After summarizing Fergusson, et al., 1986’s finding that couples attending church most often in New Zealand were also least likely to report violence in their relationship, Ellison & Anderson, 2001 continued to describe the “graded pattern” this earlier research team found: “On the other hand, men and women who never attend religious services are much more likely than their more religious counterparts to engage in domestic violence.” This research team goes on to report their own research that “shows that religious communities can provide a haven and resource for the victims of abuse, particularly through the informal support networks of church women.”

These effects of low faith show up with male partners as well: 

• “Men with no religious affiliation” are among the “significant predictors” of intimate partner violence in another Brazilian study (Zaleski, et al., 2010). 
• Intimate partner violence is is more common among women whose husbands “attend church less frequently” according to Hindin & Adair, 2002. These researchers report in the Philippines that intimate partner violence (IPV) is “less likely with more household assets, and more frequent church attendance by the husband.” They go on to emphasize the value of “finding additional activities, like attending church, where men might be receptive to messages that discourage IPV or that promote the value of communication.” 

The patterns reviewed above make one thing unmistakably clear: sexual violence does not emerge from nowhere. It grows in environments of accumulated strain—economic fragility, relational conflict, addiction, isolation, untreated trauma, and, often, spiritual disengagement. No single factor guarantees harm. But when vulnerabilities stack, risk rises.

Understanding these patterns is not about assigning blame; it is about identifying leverage points for more effective protection. If certain life conditions consistently increase danger, then strengthening their opposites—education, stability, supportive community, emotional health, and genuine, healthy faith—becomes a meaningful path toward prevention.

In Part II, I will move from patterns of vulnerability to practical application—examining what families, congregations, and communities can proactively and specifically do to interrupt these cycles and build stronger layers of safety around women and children.

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

The post Getting at the Roots of Sexual Violence Against Women appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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Though body dissatisfaction can often seem like an isolated and unique experience, countless individuals struggle to love their bodies. As a gift from God and a vital part of His plan, the body is one of Satan’s most prominent targets. He may make individuals feel alone in their trials, but body image issues are widespread. 

Approximately 0.28% to 2.8% of the U.S. population will experience an eating disorder at some point in their lives, and numerous others may resort to disordered eating (e.g. diets or unhealthy eating behaviors that don’t fully qualify as an eating disorder). Additionally, about 75% of people are dissatisfied with their body size. Often in religious settings, the faithful are taught from a young age that their bodies are temples and are gifts from God, but still some struggle to love their bodies and wish to change them. 

Love 

President Jeffrey R. Holland taught “The first great commandment of all eternity is to love God with all of our heart, might, mind, and strength—that’s the first great commandment. But the first great truth of all eternity is that God loves us with all of His heart, might, mind, and strength.”

Many of these research participants expressed sentiments of being able to love their bodies because they knew that God loved them. As Ashley, a young female participant from Utah, said, “Heavenly Father loves me because I’m myself and not some image in a picture.” Likewise, Olivia, a young adult who grew up outside of Utah, shared, “Just because someone else is skinny, it doesn’t mean God doesn’t value me or love me or care about me. The doctrine has played a major part in my healing process or processes.” 

In addition to feeling loved by our Heavenly Parents, several of the members brought up their relationship with Jesus Christ, and knowing that He died for their sins also helped them to love their bodies more. Olivia expressed, “The Atonement of Jesus Christ, that is something that has always helped, especially when I’m feeling my lowest.” Whitney, a young participant who grew up outside the United States, also shared:  

It’s hard for me. There are people [who] would be like, ‘Oh yeah, …Christ knows how you’re feeling.’ I’m like, ‘But how could he know what …a 19-year-old girl is feeling when she hates her body?’ [Because] I just feel like it’s such a different experience for everybody. But also, it just felt like there’s no way anybody else could know what this is like. And I think of just coming to like, develop that relationship. Like He understood…where I was mentally. Maybe he never hated His body … But He cared about my struggles and He understood my mental difficulties that I was having in every aspect. Not just about my body.   

Knowing that their Heavenly Parents loved them and Christ had atoned for them helped these members to find peace and work on accepting their bodies. 

Purpose 

In addition to knowing they were loved, many brought up the idea that knowing that God had given them their bodies and had a plan for them gave them purpose and helped them in their relationship with their body. Sophie, a middle-aged female participant who grew up internationally, observed:  

It gives me perspective in the sense that my body was an essential part of the plan of happiness, like I completely understand this and that always brings me appreciation that I know that I chose to come here to receive a body and that was my choice.  

For several participants, God’s plan helped them have a long-term or eternal perspective on life, their bodies, and what was most important. Sophie continued:  

I’m still far from where I would like to be in terms of being completely happy with my body. But typically, when I can envision this kind of truth, it gives me a perspective that my bra size really does not matter in the grand scheme of things. 

Lastly, Cristin, a middle-aged participant from Utah, described how she was able to find deeper meaning and purpose during a low point in her eating disorder:  

There’s something deeper … that I’m not put on this Earth just to be this physical being. Because I felt so low, that you get to that point where you like it’s not worth it anymore, if this is all that it is. That I don’t want to have to go through this all the time. It’s exhausting. So if it’s just restriction and isolation and avoiding food and avoiding people, so I don’t have to deal with that, there’s gotta be more to life than that. And that’s really helped me in a way, see that there was more to life than the physical and that deepened my faith.  

Because these participants knew that God loved them and had a plan for them, this helped them as they healed from their eating disorder and learned to love their bodies. 

Perfection

Though many were able to cling to knowing that God loved them and had a plan for them during their recovery, others also brought up a sometimes unspoken pressure to look and be perfect. Various women shared how they had to gain a better understanding of what it meant to become perfect as they recovered. Naomi, a younger participant who grew up outside of Utah, shared: 

I think we have a culture of comparison, and I don’t think that has anything to do with doctrine. … I know that’s not what God wants us to be doing. But because we’re all striving to live better lives and just to improve ourselves spiritually, I think that can just kind of bleed into other areas … I think it’s because we are taught to improve ourselves and to repent and to be the best that we can, to be closer to God. And I think maybe people interpret that as like, how am I appearing to other people? And maybe misinterpreting it a little bit.

Similarly, Ellie, a middle-aged participant who grew up outside of Utah, explained, “Obviously, we have doctrine on becoming perfect, but it’s the act of making improvements, right? Rather than, I think what a lot of people see as the definition of being perfect without flaw.” 

Though these participants had started their journey of recovery, many have not. Just as these participants did, members of The Church of Jesus Christ struggling with body image should focus on beliefs such as that Heavenly Father created our bodies and loves each individual as they are, our bodies are an essential part of the Plan of Salvation, and we are working on progression, not perfection. All of these teachings can be vital in supporting individuals in forming a healthy body image. 

Additionally, acceptance could be fostered through artwork that represents a variety of body types, skin colors, and abilities. Lastly, this could entail creating a nonjudgmental environment and opportunities within one’s congregations, quorums, classes, or families to openly discuss body image, media pressures, health, appearances, ability, why God made each of us uniquely, and how that knowledge may influence the way we see those around us and our own body. This is important for both men and women to discuss. For as President Holland has noted,

There is no universal optimum size … I plead with you young women [and all] to please be more accepting of yourselves, including your body shape and style, with a little less longing to look like someone else. We are all different. Some are tall, and some are short. Some are round, and some are thin. And almost everyone at some time or other wants to be something they are not!

Ultimately, God made every individual unique and wants all to be invited to come, join, and be loved. We are all created in His image. And in that shared truth lies the beginning of healing—knowing that, as unique children of loving heavenly parents, through Christ we are enough, and we can be made whole.

The post In His Image: How Faith Can Heal Our Relationship with Our Bodies appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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On a recent trip to Cuenca, Ecuador, volunteering with the Orphanage Support Services Organization, I spent a lot of time at an “hogar infantil” (children’s home) with some particularly adorable and naughty kids. For each shift, we packed a bag full of games, art projects, and activities to do with the children. Most of the time, the kids were well behaved, but at this specific orphanage, we had to keep a tight hold on zippers to prevent little fingers from stealing. We spent a lot of time playing, but we also unfortunately spent a lot of time breaking up fights. 

I was confused by the difference between this orphanage and the others where I had served. The tías (“aunts” or caretakers) were just as outnumbered, the nutrition was comparable, and they had better resources for play than many of the places I had visited. The homes that these children came from were not significantly different from those of other children.

I was able to identify a clear and increasingly obvious differentiation, along with some solutions supported by emerging research.

Screens Shape Behavior More Than We Think

The connection between behavior and screen exposure is an emerging field of research in family science, especially with the emergence of a generation in a media-saturated environment. Today’s parents are better equipped to prepare for and handle these additional challenges than any of the past generations, due to our life experiences growing up in the digital age. This, however, is dependent on our willingness to take responsibility for our children’s development—a responsibility affirmed in The Family: A Proclamation to the World. 

Studies have shown that there is a vital connection between disruptive behavior and screen exposure. A recent analysis of kindergarten students indicated that children who were given more than two hours of screen time daily experienced a lower ability to see things through to the end and an increase in atypical behaviors, such as being depressed or unhappy. Even aside from technology, it is no secret that attention span is on the decline. Additionally, I am sure we are all aware of today’s mental health crisis, in which approximately 18.5% and 19.1% of Americans have symptoms of depression and anxiety.

I have witnessed these trends among my peers and even in my own life. Ever since making my first social media account in high school, I have found it harder to concentrate and have struggled more with symptoms of anxiety. Many of my close friends and associates battle low self-esteem, pornography use, and mental health disorders. Although these concerns cannot be solely blamed on the influence of technology, we cannot deny that it has had major negative effects on the way we think, speak, and behave.

Strategy 1: Collaborative Restrictions

Unfortunately, it seems that the negative effects of social media and other forms of technology are unavoidable. As early as elementary school, many assignments have been converted to online platforms, and even the strongest parental protection filters cannot prevent negative influences from surfacing in online searches. So, what can we, as current or future parents of young children, do to protect, prepare, and enable our children to succeed? How can we use technology as a developmental tool rather than merely accept it as a necessary evil? I propose an interactive approach to digital parenting involving active mediation strategies, specifically restrictive methods and co-use mediation.

Restrictive methods include tools such as filters, time limits, electronic tracking software, or even limitations on where in the house devices are permitted (for example, bedrooms and bathrooms). Although the idea often brings up feelings of constraint or authoritarianism, parental restrictions can actually be effective when executed correctly. One recommended strategy is to hold age-appropriate discussions between parents and children concerning the purposes and dangers of technology and the personality and developmental status of the child, allowing the child a certain level of autonomy over what restrictions are appropriate.

For example, a conversation might look like this:

Parent: *Explains that technology is necessary for the child’s schoolwork and might be used to communicate with friends, but that it can also become a distraction in both academic and social progress. Also chooses to explain or review the dangers and prevalence of pornography.*

Child: *May ask clarifying questions or add observations about their needs and uses for technology as guided by the parent.*

Parent: *Gives suggestions of what restrictive methods may be used and explains their benefits and pitfalls. Asks the child what he/she thinks is appropriate for his/her circumstances*

Child: *Adds his/her input and comes to a conclusion which can either be approved by or further discussed with the parent.*

Research shows an associated improvement in parent-child relationship satisfaction, an increase in socioemotional orientation, higher-quality parent-child communication, and even a decrease in time spent watching TV or using electronic devices with the application of this approach when addressing technology use and other issues facing youth and children.

From personal experience, I suggest a word of caution when using restrictive methods. Adolescents are brilliant detectors of hypocrisy. If parents choose to apply generalized restrictions to the family, they should also be willing to follow these restrictions. Failing to do so could create resentment on the part of the children or adolescents, who may perceive such an action as unjust and refuse to comply.

Strategy 2: Co-Use Mediation

Another research-supported suggestion for encouraging child development through technology is sometimes called co-use mediation or guidance. Some studies even suggest that parental co-use is the most effective protective measure to avoid or minimize the negative effects of media. Co-use mediation, as the name suggests, involves the use of technology alongside children or adolescents.

I experienced this method first-hand as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The standards we were invited to follow included Safeguards for Using Technology, found in Preach My Gospel chapter 2, which discusses being accountable to each other as a companionship and only using devices when the screen is visible to both companions (with the exception of personal matters such as communicating with family). Although extreme, I learned from experience the benefits of this program, which changed my habits for the better.

The application of active co-use mediation is associated with lower levels of aggression, risky sexual behavior, and substance use, as well as increases in parent-child relationship quality and social-emotional connections. Evidently, parental mediation strategies have the potential to benefit both children and parents.

Co-use is also a doorway to redemptive uses of media. Digital tools can amplify positive messages. 

Parental co-use admittedly requires much more work and time commitment on the part of parents. I acknowledge that for some families, applying this approach may be infeasible due to the demands of careers and other activities. As a result, these principles may be adapted to fit the needs and circumstances of individual families.

As previously discussed, technology is associated with many negative outcomes, including poor behavior, mental health challenges, and a lower attention span. When considering parenthood, these obstacles can feel overwhelming and impossible to prevent or overcome. However, as we engage proactively with the rapidly developing research on the subject and practice improving our own habits, I believe we have the potential to positively shape child development and create better outcomes, strengthening our families and communities.

The post Parenting in the Glow: Reckoning with “Screen Time” Childhood appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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When the internet was widely adopted in the 1990s, a “Great Rewiring of Childhood” took place and created a generational divide between so-called “digital immigrants” (those raised in the analog age) and “digital natives” (those raised in the internet age). Social psychologist Jonathan Haidt describes digital natives as “the test subjects for a radical new way of growing up,” and says the difference in childhood between the two groups is so large “it’s as if [digital natives] became the first generation to grow up on Mars.”

This has implications for older members (digital immigrants) of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who wish to parent, lead, teach, or mentor the rising generation of digital natives. One area where this gap presents serious difficulty is the subject of pornography and masturbation addiction.

We—Dr. Rance Hutchings (a digital immigrant and men’s mental and sexual health expert) and Kimball Call (a digital native and economics student at BYU)—believe it’s crucial to talk about why digital immigrants often struggle to effectively help digital natives who struggle with pornography addiction. Where is the disconnect coming from? How can it be overcome, and how can older parents, leaders, and teachers better help younger Latter-day Saints?

Rance’s Experience

When Rance began mentoring men with pornography addiction in 2010, he could sense the generational divide between himself and the younger men he mentored. Growing up, he never struggled with pornography addiction, nor did he hear about pornography all that much. He can’t even remember pornography being mentioned in a single church lesson. Pornography was only ever discussed as a “one-off” situation that young men might experience at a party when someone brought a magazine or snuck in a video rented from an adult book shop. So when trying to help the rising generation with pornography, Rance felt like a “foreigner”—desperate to help, but unable to escape feeling inauthentic. 

While serving in a bishopric, Rance felt that it was much easier to teach young men only how to prevent pornography addiction rather than how to overcome it. He’s not alone. Many parents and leaders find that “prevention” is the only method they can teach authentically, because it’s all they ever were familiar with themselves.

 Kimball’s Experience

 Now contrast Rance’s experience with Kimball’s, who grew up seeing the other side of Rance’s scenario. As one of the earliest digital natives, Kimball faced a fundamentally altered childhood landscape (or Mars, as Haidt describes it). Like many in his generation, Kimball discovered pornography as early as the 5th grade, and by the 6th grade had already developed a habit and discovered masturbation. Although his thoughtful and proactive parents tried to implement safeguards and filters, Kimball—as a digital native—found ways around each one. 

 By the time he was a deacon, Kimball was past the point where the “prevention” lectures were helpful. Because he already had a problem, these conversations made him feel isolated. He reasoned that he must be the only one viewing pornography if everyone else only talked about it in terms of staying away from it. This view was compounded when older people suggested “simply quitting,” spoke of pornography as simply a bad choice that could be stopped by willpower and agency, or suggested other silver-bullet solutions.

 The Disconnect

 We believe that these young men were neither weak nor spiritually broken when they first encountered pornography. They were simply “digital martians,” trying to survive on a new planet without adequate tools or preparation, being led by adults whose experiences were completely different. For digital immigrants growing up, viewing pornography required accessing – and often purchasing – physical media like VHS tapes and magazines. In homes or communities where this type of media was highly regulated, it was nearly impossible for most young men to access hardcore pornography. And if they did, it required much more effort to conceal. 

 Today, however, digital natives have unhampered access to much more stimulating forms of pornography with much lower barriers to access and total anonymity. Worse still, it actively gets inserted into social media feeds, movies, and video games, and is always just a few taps away on a device. This is why it’s unhelpful for digital immigrants to talk of pornography as a problem that can be dealt with through willpower, agency, internet filters, “remembering who you are,” or other simple prevention methods. These may have been sufficient once, but a new battle calls for new (and improved) tactics.

 At its root, the generational disconnect stems from the difficulty digital immigrants and digital natives have relating to each other. Digital immigrants have carried over from their era a certain set of expectations for what “normal” looks like, and digital natives are caught in the dissonance between those expectations and the reality they experience. For instance, digital immigrants within the Church grew to expect pornography addiction to affect few people, generally those already in dire spiritual straits. This expectation makes it difficult for some to accept that a majority of young men—including the good, upstanding, and faithful ones—now struggle with a porn habit to some degree. 

The first step to overcoming the disconnect will be to appreciate the new reality our youth are experiencing. Now that we’ve had three decades to observe, conduct research, and develop better approaches, it is incumbent on parents, leaders, and teachers to adapt, to learn, and to prepare the next generation for greater success.

 Bridging the Gap

 After 15 years of professional work, Rance has learned that, for most young men, pornography habits will be forming before they enter priesthood service at 11. By that age, it’s often too late for the prevention lecture to be sufficient. But he’s also learned that he has more in common with digital natives than he thought, and that knowledge can help parents and leaders who aren’t sure what to do next.

 Viewing pornography and masturbating are two separate addictive behaviors, but we often lump them together under the umbrella term “pornography addiction.” Generally,  masturbation is the ‘root addiction’ while pornography is an enhancer. Once porn and masturbation are successfully separated, they can be treated without the compounding effect they have on each other, which allows the path to recovery to look a lot more similar to what digital immigrants experienced. This puts digital immigrants and natives on common ground, allowing more sympathy, patience, understanding, and authenticity. 

 New (And Improved) Tactics 

 A new battle calls for new and improved tactics. Once parents, leaders, and mentors have shifted their own paradigm and can better understand the new challenges digital natives face, there are several resources, tools, and strategies they can use. 

 Begin by separating pornography use and masturbation so they can be tackled separately. Pornography use should generally be dealt with first, using a healthy mix of prevention strategies (defense) as well as strategies addressing underlying spiritual, emotional, and physical problems (offense). Prevention will play a key role in the first few months of recovery, while offensive strategies will be crucial for long-term success. Once viewing pornography has been thoroughly addressed, these same tools can be used to slow—and eventually terminate—masturbation addiction.

 Kimball recently approached Brad Wilcox at BYU to ask if the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles is teaching the same principles when they teach about pornography use, and received adamant confirmation that they are. Evidence can be found in the recently published, First Presidency-approved Missionary Resource Guide for Addressing Pornography found on Gospel Library. This resource teaches missionaries, “While your ultimate goal is to be clean from pornography use, understand that you will not get there all at once. It will take sustained and consistent effort. Set small, achievable goals and build on successes rather than focusing on failures.”

 Members of the Church can apply this counsel by ending the practice of tracking “porn-free streaks.” This tactic seems appealing, but it tends to perpetuate addictive behavior in the long run. As the Missionary Resource Guide for Addressing Pornography states, “Setbacks don’t take you back to square one.” Instead, it will be more effective to find ways to decrease the frequency and intensity of slips over time. For example, a digital native just starting the journey to recovery might set a goal to view pornography less than three times in the first week and to not allow a slip to last for longer than five minutes. If successful, their next goal might be to go two weeks with less than three slips, then on to three weeks, a month, and so on. 

 This strategy decreases the chance of binges: the tendency to slip multiple times in a row once an abstinent streak has been broken. Binges can severely hamper long-term progress, so it’s better to allow one or two minor slips within the goal period than to risk a binge. One or two minor slips are not indicators of an unsuccessful recovery; in fact, they are normal—taking a few steps forward, one step back, and so on until the gaps between small slips grow longer and longer. Sustainable and lasting recovery is much more likely with this method. 

 Crucial to recovery is strong accountability, so we recommend a mentorship model: choosing one trustworthy person for the recovering person to regularly communicate with weekly. It usually works best for this mentor to be an adult member of the same sex, but they don’t have to have prior experience with pornography. Mentors provide many benefits, including an outside, unique perspective of the factors that play into pornography use and how to manage them. Check-ins with mentors should be judgment-free and focused on future action, not past mistakes.

 Any underlying emotional, mental, and physical health needs will also need to be addressed. We urge members to seek help from Church-aligned sources. There is a secular trend—which we reject—to excuse and tolerate pornography use as normal and harmless behavior, and seeking help from these kinds of sources frequently doesn’t lead to a full and lasting recovery. Supplemental tools that we do endorse include cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) and mindfulness-based cognitive therapy (MBCT), both of which can be adapted for use to help with pornography and masturbation addiction. 

While both generations should embrace new realities and methods for tackling pornography and masturbation, we shouldn’t seek to change the moral standards of chastity. Lowering expectations is an unhelpful strategy for lifelong happiness. Parents and leaders will need to adjust their approach, be more open-minded, and grow more understanding, without lowering standards of moral cleanliness and virtue, even if our social environment makes it increasingly difficult. Therefore, we advocate for a Christlike approach, built on high expectations and ever-increasing love.

In Rance’s experience, he doesn’t know of anyone who sincerely wanted to be free of pornography addiction who wasn’t eventually successful once they had the right tools and mindset. With an approach designed for his reality, Kimball found relief, and now wants his digitally native peers to know that there’s hope. Full recovery is a reality! And we hope that with a new perspective, digital immigrants and digital natives can be more successful working together to achieve a lifetime of happiness.

The post Bridging the Generational Divide to Help Youth with Porn Addiction appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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There are several stark ironies in my life. First, I grew up in an active Latter-day Saint family in a small farm town in southern Idaho. So, my upbringing was about as conservative as you can imagine. Yet, I got a PhD in psychology, which is about as liberal a field as you can imagine. Second, I’m still an active member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, while I’ve had numerous family members and friends leave the Church. Yet, I’m the one who is in psychology, arguably the least religious field in academia. Third, I study deconversion, so I know all the reasons people leave religion. Yet, I have little if any motivation to leave myself. Fourth, I’m one of the leading researchers of adolescent religious development in the world, yet I struggle to raise my own kids in the Church. Fifth, I’ve been in the field of psychology for two and a half decades as a developmental psychologist, so I should understand growth and change. Yet, I have struggled mightily with my own mental health and relationships. Sixth, I have spoken and written about how to navigate faith crises, yet I am still struggling with my own faith.

One reason I have no motivation to leave is that I have adequately applied my heart, head, and hands to my faith journey, as articulated in a four-part series of essays I wrote previously with my colleague Ed Gantt. These essays are extensive, so I won’t repeat what is said there. But they capture a lot of the reasons why I have not left the Church. 

One major reason I am not motivated to leave the Church, as pointed out in our essays, is that I focus on primary questions and let go of secondary questions. Elder Corbridge beautifully described this distinction in a BYU devotional. I have studied why people leave religion (deconversion) for about a decade, so I know all the secondary questions. But I don’t spend much time and energy on them. This is largely because of what I describe in my faith journey essays. And part of it is, I have my hands full with the primary questions, which are essentially the pillars of a testimony. Here they are:

1. Is there a God? 
2. Is Jesus the Christ?
3. Was Joseph Smith a prophet?
4. Is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints the true church?
5. Is the Book of Mormon the word of God?

Let’s start with, is there a God? I really believe there is a God, but I have several barriers that have made it hard for me to feel His presence and love. First, although I grew up in a wonderful family that I love, we aren’t the most emotionally intelligent (at least speaking for myself). We learned how to use our heads more than our hearts. Second, I made that worse by getting a PhD and becoming a professor. My career is very focused on logic and observable evidence. Third, I have struggled with my mental health. In a recent study I conducted with my colleagues and students, we showed that spirituality and mental health are bidirectionally linked. That is, it isn’t just that spirituality protects people from mental health challenges, but in turn, having such challenges can hinder spirituality. So, I feel my mental illness has made it harder than usual for me to have spiritual experiences. Fourth, it seems like my weakness and sin have often been like an umbrella, blocking me from the rays of light coming down from God. Fifth, more importantly, I have lived with shame as my harmful constant companion. Shame blocks me from feeling love from myself, others, and God. 

Next, is Jesus the Christ? One of my big challenges here is that it is hard, with my modern, Western, scientific mind, to envision having a relationship with someone whom I can’t observe with my five senses. Also, the barriers above for me feeling God’s presence and love are also barriers to me experiencing the Atonement of Christ. In particular, shame is basically a denial of the Atonement of Christ. Sort of like, I know you paid for my sins, but I prefer to keep them and beat myself with them. In short, even though I really want to believe in Christ, I have struggled in my relationship with Him and in experiencing the healing and enabling powers of His Atonement. 

Yet, I love all things Christian. I am a junkie of The Chosen. I’m all in on that personable Jesus! I feel the Spirit so powerfully in many of the most beloved scenes. I’m also obsessed with Christian music, particularly Christian rock. Most of my listening time these days is devoted to Christian music. I feel uplifted and connected to God, Jesus, and the Spirit. Many of the lyrics echo my struggles, triumphs, and the desires of my heart. So, although I struggle in my relationship with Jesus, I seem to yearn for it. 

Next, was Joseph Smith a prophet? Most of the issues people have with Joseph Smith probably qualify as secondary questions, so I’m not very interested in those. I’ll evaluate him based on his two major contributions, which are restoring the Church and translating the Book of Mormon, discussed further below. If those are legitimate, then he was a prophet.

Despite these struggles, I love the Church and the gospel and hold onto faith and hope that they are true. And my meager but sincere attempts to “Hear Him” seem to be bearing some fruit, as attested by my spiritual experience described earlier. Furthermore, the social sciences data regarding our church is overwhelmingly positive. One book about youth has a chapter called “Mormon Envy” (a Freudian play on words). The researchers were so blown away by how amazing our youth were compared to most other youth in the U.S., and my colleagues and I at BYU have largely replicated these findings with newer data, better measures, and a larger sample of Latter-day Saint youth. So, with all our flaws, we seem to be doing something right.

The final reason I am not motivated to leave the Church is that I really want and even need it to be true. First, I want to honor my ancestors. I have Latter-day Saint pioneer heritage on both sides of my family. Maybe this seems like lame conformity, but I’m not the only one who thinks it’s important. Second, my parents both died of cancer. It is unacceptable that death is the end. Third, as noted earlier, I am stumbling my way through life. My own will and intellect have been good for my career, but have fallen short in other areas of my life, such as my mental health and relationships. I’ve come to the end of myself to the point of turning my life over to God and accepting Jesus as my Savior. Fourth, I got to the point of realizing that no amount of observable or rational evidence in mortality will ever give sure answers to any of the questions above. So, as Elder Renlund encouraged, I decided to be inclined towards faith. I know, critics of the Church will point to Occam’s razor. Be careful, it’s a double-edged razor. It isn’t any simpler believing in evolution as the origin of man than divine creation. It isn’t any simpler believing Joseph Smith was insane, or a genius, or a copycat, than believing the Book of Mormon was translated by revelation. It seems that either way we go when answering these primary questions, whether “Yes” or “No,” requires a faith of sorts. So, I’ll give the benefit of the doubt to the affirmative answers.

The post Confessions of a Deconversion Researcher: A Scholar’s Journey of Faith appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Emotional Burnout and Compassion Fatigue

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

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

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

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

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

Blurring of Boundaries: Taking the “Therapist” Role Home

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

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

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

Personal Struggles and the “Wounded Healer”

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

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

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

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

High Expectations and the Critical Eye

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

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

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

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

The Therapeutic WorldView

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Faith is hard. One of my favorite writers is Flannery O’Connor, an American Southern Gothic novelist and short story writer. O’Connor was a devout Catholic, and her published prayer journals and letters give us a glimpse into her life of faith. In a letter to a lifelong friend and pen pal, Louise Abbot, O’Connor responds to what must have been Abbot describing a trial of faith, saying: 

I think there is no suffering greater than what is caused by the doubts of those who want to believe. I know what torment this is, but I can only see it, in myself anyway, as the process by which faith is deepened. A faith that just accepts is a child’s faith and all right for children, but eventually you have to grow religiously, as [in] every other way, though some never do.

What people don’t realize is how much religion costs. They think faith is a big electric blanket, when of course it is the cross. It is much harder to believe than not to believe. If you feel you can’t believe, you must at least do this: keep an open mind. Keep it open toward faith, keep wanting it, keep asking for it, and leave the rest to God.

It is interesting that she both acknowledges that for some, faith can be excruciating—the cross itself—but also the way by which faith is deepened. In other words, this is how it is supposed to work.

Many I know who have struggled with faith are unsure how to initiate these kinds of conversations with friends or seek out literature that will help them find the truth. Perhaps they have reached out to loved ones about their doubts, and have received dismissive or surface-level answers like “just read your scriptures more” or “It sounds like you’ve been reading anti-material.” Often they have been convinced by nonbelievers or former believers that any faith-positive source is biased or deceptive, or that once the “shelf is broken,” there is no going back. 

Too often, we treat church meetings as the place where every spiritual concern must be resolved. But not every question belongs in the chapel pew. Some conversations about faith are sacred—and require a different setting, a different pace, and a different kind of attention.

Faith is hard, and we should normalize the challenges, and ebbs and flows, and questions that come along with a life of devotion. No believer goes through mortality without crying out to God in agony of a great loss, or feeling silence from the heavens, or seeking out greater meaning or understanding of God’s plan. After all, this is part of the process. 

But how we go about normalizing these struggles matters.  In our efforts to normalize any challenge, we risk romanticizing it—or worse, reinforcing it. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the movement to normalize mental health challenges. 

Mental health has become the lens through which we view nearly everything. Diagnoses appear in social media bios. Therapyspeak—words like “toxic,” “trauma,” and “boundaries”—has seeped into casual conversation, often stripped of clinical meaning. Employers hand out mental health toolkits, colleges offer petting zoos during finals, and celebrities tout the virtues of therapy for every relationship hurdle.

But things aren’t getting better. Symptoms of anxiety and depression continue to rise, especially among adolescent girls. Even emotionally stable teens now pathologize normal ups and downs, often self-diagnosing via TikTok. Gallup reports that Americans’ self-assessed mental health is the worst it’s been in over two decades. Suicide rates have increased by 30% in the last 20 years. Parents are more fearful than ever—reluctant to let their children roam the neighborhood, convinced that every stranger at Target might be a kidnapper.

We are more anxious, more fragile, and more volatile. This culture of constant rumination and performative validation is not serving us well. Bringing in “faith crisis” to every church meeting risks creating the same culture of unhealthy navel-gazing in our spiritual lives.

First, the right setting: In The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we are often taught that the most important part of church attendance is taking the sacrament and renewing our baptismal covenants. President Dallin H. Oaks has taught that we attend church to serve (not to be served) and teaching manuals such as Preach My Gospel for missionaries and Teaching, No Greater Call for general membership emphasize that our primary purpose should be to invite others to come unto Christ. I would humbly suggest that the right setting for a deep dive into questions and doubts is probably not in our regular Sunday meetings. 

This is somewhat tricky. Avoiding hard questions might leave struggling members isolated—or lead them to those who’ve left the covenant path and want others to follow.

On the other hand, among the members and visitors at church each week are likely widows, those who are caring for elderly parents, have sick or disabled children, have lost jobs, have mental health issues, and myriad other challenges. These people come to church for the balm of Gilead that is the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Our niche Joseph Smith historical questions, while they may feel immediate and pressing to us, can detract from that important purpose.

Flannery O’Connor chose faith, even when it didn’t feel effortless. During her graduate school years, she attended Mass daily. She journaled about the tension between her desire for God and her sense of distance from Him. “My thoughts are all elsewhere,” she confessed. But she showed up anyway. She didn’t wait for certainty before practicing devotion. When prayer felt elusive, she turned to writing, pouring out her longings, her doubts, and her imperfect love into beautifully wrought prayers. She didn’t pretend to be more faithful than she was—she simply brought her full self to God and asked for help.

We can do the same. In times of spiritual struggle, our offering may be small—a prayer uttered in hope rather than confidence, a Sunday School comment made despite nagging doubt, a verse of scripture read with an open, aching heart. But small offerings matter. They are expressions of our desire to stay in a relationship with God. And that desire, acted on, can become the seed of faith.

The right people and the right sources also matter. When we’re struggling with mental health, we’re careful—ideally—not to rely on unqualified influencers or unreliable forums for advice. The same care should apply when we’re facing serious gospel questions. Not every voice online—or even in our social circles—is equipped to help. President Russell M. Nelson has warned us against “increasing (our) doubts by rehearsing them with other doubters.”

For some, the right person might be a trusted family member, a close friend, a ministering sister or brother—someone who can listen without panic and respond without platitudes. For others, it might be a mentor, a bishop, or someone with experience navigating similar questions. But we also have to prepare to be that kind of person for others—to receive their questions with love and patience rather than fear or defensiveness.

The Church provides a helpful resource called Helping Others with Questions in the Gospel Topics Library, which outlines practical ways to support loved ones in faith crises. Outside of official church resources, organizations like Mormonr or FAIR Latter-day Saints offer thoughtful, research-based responses to common questions and criticisms. These sources won’t perfectly answer every question—but they are striving to be both spiritually grounded and intellectually responsible.

It’s not wrong to hear out questions or criticisms. But we shouldn’t let them monopolize the conversation in our hearts and minds. Doubt may be a part of our path—but we get to choose who we walk with, and who we let guide us, and how much space we want to give to those doubts.

Flannery O’Connor was not only a gospel seeker, but also a guide. Her own wrestling made her a compassionate companion to others in their searching. She never claimed to have perfect faith—only a determined one. Her writing continues to offer a kind of spiritual hospitality to those who want to believe but aren’t sure how.

In that way, O’Connor mirrors the very work of the gospel: inviting the wounded, the weary, and the wondering to come unto Christ, even when we ourselves are prone to wander. If we can become the kind of believers who sit with others in that space—without panic, without platitudes, but with patience and love—then our faith, however imperfect, becomes not only our anchor but someone else’s lifeline.

Faith is hard. But as with most hard things, it is transformative, refining us in the very hardest of times to become who only God can see in us. That is the work of a disciple—not to have all the answers, but to keep walking with God, and help others do the same.

The post The Hidden Cost of Normalizing Doubt appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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

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

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

What is Differentiation Therapy?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Similarities to the Gospel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Sacramental View of Marriage

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

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

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

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

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

Specific Theological and Pastoral Concerns

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

Reframing of Selfishness as Growth

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

Devaluation of Mutual Dependence

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

Therapeutic Destabilization of the Vulnerable

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

Psychological Work as Identity Formation

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

Undermining the Redemptive Power of Weakness

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

Flattening the Eternal Narrative of Marriage

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

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

Toward a Christological Integration of Differentiation and Unity

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

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

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

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

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

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

Recommendations for Moving Forward

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

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

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

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

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

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

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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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Nearly one year ago, the world watched the 2024 Summer Olympics. We celebrated the record-setting accomplishments of athletes from around the world. A year or two later, we may remember only a few medal-winning performances. In contrast, an athlete who finished last long ago may be a hero, indelibly engraved in our memory. The 1992 Summer Olympics in Barcelona, Spain, were more than 20 years ago. Few remember who won the 400-meter race, yet millions have a vivid memory of the runner who finished last—because sometimes finishing last is the most heroic accomplishment of all.

What happened next made the whole world stand still. Eyes riveted on their screens, the world watched as Derek Redmond, with tears of pain and disappointment, rose on one leg and began to hobble forward. A stretcher was brought by medical personnel, but Derek refused it, instead hobbling forward on his own. From the stands, Derek’s father pushed past security to help his son. Derek kept going. Quickly, it became clear to everyone that Derek intended to cross the finish line, and that roused the whole watching world. They knew that they were not spectators to defeat, but witnesses to a different race—one run with heart, not haste. In worldwide unison, fans rose to their feet and cheered more loudly and proudly for Derek than for those who crossed the finish line first. That day, Derek claimed victory as he limped over the finish line. And in witnessing his triumph, the world too claimed something: a spark of hope and quiet personal triumph within themselves. 

“Never Out of the Fight”

One might feel as though the world is upside-down, hearing a crowd cheering loudest for the runner who finishes last. To finish the race you know you can’t “win” is one of the most impressive accomplishments in life. But finishing heroically is what all but three athletes in every race do. In every race you watch, most of the runners know they won’t medal, but they shred the track with their cleats as though they were racing for the win. They are—their win! That spirit to fight on to the finish lives within ordinary people every day. That is why the whole world resonated with and cheered the heroism of Derek Redmond finishing. In that moment, Derek Redmond was the avatar of what is best in all of us—Derek Redmond was Everyman. We strive for this heroism in ourselves, and can’t help but honor it in others. Derek Redmond’s story is indelible because it traces the contours of our own lives and strikes that chord of agony, courage, and undying will.

When Finishing Last Is Victory

Disappointments, setbacks, and failures are the inheritance of mortality. We’ve all felt it. We understand what it’s like not to be the best when we desperately try to be. When a runner stumbles, we naturally recoil and turn away—we resonate with the painful reality of stumbling. But respect is granted to the runner who gets up and finishes—after all, they’ve shown us how to care about nothing so much as our own very best. 

Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf acknowledges the challenge of mortality and the reality of coming up short, again and again—“falling is what we mortals do.”  We may be tempted to stay down—we may even believe that falling is our destiny. In the race of life, it’s not where you place but staying in the race that counts. “As long as we are willing to rise up again and continue on … we can learn something from failure and become better and happier as a result,” Elder Uchtdorf assures. 

There will be times we find ourselves in Derek Redmond’s situation: dreams dashed and hearts broken as we recognize we have fallen impossibly behind. As it was with Redmond, pain and despair may overtake and immobilize us as we watch the dream slip from us. The temptation to forsake it all is typical. If you can’t win, if you’ve lost everything, why keep trying? Why not throw it all away?

Addiction: The Inspiration of Derek Redmond for Repentance and Recovery 

Becoming entangled in a web of temptations may be an enticing distraction from painful realities, but often this trap only leads to shattered hopes and dreams. The race seems lost, and despair is easy. The dream of finishing “first” (whatever that means) may in reality be lost, but by the grace of God, finishing well is never beyond reach. Repentance and recovery from a myriad of challenges in life is an inspiring story of heroic “last place” finishes.

Mark, a marriage and family therapist for 30 years, remembers working with a young husband and father who had struggled desperately for years to overcome compulsive pornography use, only to “fail” again and again; or so it seemed to him, even though any objective observer could see a steady growth trend over his years of committed struggle. 

Mark remembers the day that young man expressed in fight-tempered firmness, “I don’t know whether I will ever overcome this”—he paused, then declared—“but as long as I draw breath, I will not quit fighting!” Another young man in recovery similarly wrote: “Even if I lose, I prefer who I am when I fight to who I am when I give up.”   There’s something of that warrior spirit in all of us. The motto of the warrior spirit is “never out of the fight.” Even when some dreams disappear, we stand, if not to win, then to fight on. With that fighting spirit and vision that refuses surrender, change is empowered as one keeps stepping forward. 

Victim Mentality—The First Enemy

Persons struggling to overcome any of life’s myriad weaknesses, appetites, or addictions may discover that the greatest barrier to beginning recovery is the powerlessness of a victim mentality—the idea that life has conspired against them. Owning up to personal failures is painful. Casting blame elsewhere may be palliative—‘it’s not my fault’—but it is also disempowering—if we’re not at fault, then there is nothing we can do about it. We must not escape from or sidestep holding ourselves accountable; otherwise, we surrender our power.

Even when “if only” thoughts and feelings may be justified, indulging them only disempowers us—leads us to dwell on things we cannot change instead of the things we can change, and on what we will do now. How inspiring are Paralympic athletes, wheelchair marathoners, and others, who show us how to face our reality and run with it! Our experiences with “failure” can ultimately produce vital learning, which leads to growth and change. Falling short of success presents the opportunity for us to focus our attention and energy on what more we can do.

Be Willing to Change the Dream 

The longer we dwell on the race that’s lost, the stronger the impulse to just give up takes hold. Instead, we can quickly change focus from what’s lost to what’s still possible—shift defeat to motivation. The irrepressible mantra of the mother of one young man who had wrestled with addiction was “look ahead, don’t look back.” Her words were true. Only misery, torment, and despair came to this young man as he obsessed over his losses.

Endure to the End

In life’s most difficult circumstances, the seeming futility of it all can make trying seem pointless. Surely the runner is not at fault for mourning the loss of dreams. Surely those watching bear empathic witness to the pain. When he gathers himself to his feet, though, it is then that we see the spirit that cannot, will not be defeated.  It’s in the fight we choose now that we show who we are. While some dreams and relationships may be lost, we can pick ourselves up and push for our own finish line.

In this world, often only the first-place finisher hears the raucous cheering of the crowd. But “heaven is cheering [us] on today, tomorrow, and forever,” Elder Jeffrey R. Holland assures, and encourages us all: “Keep trying. Keep trusting. Keep believing. Keep growing.”  Every race in life is really our own personal record (PR) challenge. Each of us is running in our own lane. We can find contentment, peace, and satisfaction in today’s PR, improving today over yesterday, reaching for the best possible future version of ourselves, starting from today. In the kingdom of God, every son or daughter who gives their all—their personal best, their very best—sees the loving smile of God and hears those precious celebratory finish-line words, “well done” (Matthew 25:21, 23). Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow. That’s our race.

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For many sexual minorities within the Church, the temple can sometimes evoke feelings of exclusion or stir complex emotions that are challenging to navigate. Yet for me, the temple has become a sacred refuge—a place of profound healing, enduring peace, and personal revelation. From a young age, I have experienced sexual attraction to other men—an aspect of my life that has brought both confusion and introspection over the years. As a married covenant-making member of the Church, this part of me has become something I’ve learned to acknowledge, understand, and bring before the Lord. Through years of counseling, personal study, and deep spiritual searching, I have worked to reconcile these feelings with my faith in Jesus Christ and His gospel plan. The temple has been an essential part of that process. It has reminded me of who I truly am in God’s eyes and offered me hope, healing, and a path forward rooted in covenant relationships. In the sacred spaces of the temple, I have found peace with both my identity and my discipleship.

In this reflection, I share how the temple has been a guiding light through my unique struggles and a source of strength through its holy ordinances and divine teachings.

The Temple: A House Open to All

At the heart of the Church’s teachings is the truth that the temple is a place meant for everyone. President Russell M. Nelson has emphasized this, declaring, “The blessings of the temple are available to any and all people who will prepare themselves … The Lord wants all His children to partake of the eternal blessings available in His temple.” The temple’s doors stand open wide to all who earnestly strive to follow Christ, embrace His teachings, and live His commandments.

While society often imposes limiting labels based on identity, attractions, or choices, the temple strips away such distinctions. Here, all are seen simply as beloved children of God, each with infinite divine potential. For sexual minorities, this invitation is deeply transformative. In a world that might cast me as “other” or define me by my sexual identity, the temple teaches that we all can come unto Christ and receive His healing—without any labels, without division. The temple is a sacred space where every individual is invited to covenant directly with God and receive His promises.

The Baptistry: A Symbol of Purity, Repentance, and Unity

One of my most cherished spaces in the temple is the baptistry. The baptismal font, supported by twelve oxen, symbolizes the cleansing of sin, rebirth of spiritual identity, and forming essential covenants with the Savior. For those who have faced pain, trauma, or past mistakes, the baptistry can represent Christ’s power to heal and forgive.

Each time I sit near the font, I am reminded that no matter our history, we can be made new through the Savior’s Atonement. This sacred ordinance is a poignant reminder that renewal is possible—not only for ourselves but for our ancestors through proxy baptisms. The twelve oxen supporting the font remind me that salvation is a collective effort, rooted in the legacy of covenant Israel. It reminds me that I am not alone; God surrounds me with family, friends, and leaders who help carry my burdens.

Safe Touch and Healing from Trauma

For those who have endured trauma, abuse, or difficulty with physical touch, the temple offers a unique place of healing. The initiatory ordinance, performed with reverence and respect by temple workers of the same gender, presents a sacred experience of safe touch. This environment fosters trust and healing, allowing wounds from the past to begin to mend.

For me, especially, this sacred touch affirms my gender identity and provides a safe space where I can feel secure and valued. It is a quiet yet profound balm for my soul.

The Covenant of Taking Christ’s Name

The temple garment symbolizes the covenant to take upon ourselves the name of Jesus Christ. In this holy place, labels, identity politics, and social divisions dissolve. Instead, we are called to become disciples of Christ, united by His name and His love.

As the Apostle Paul wrote, “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). In the temple, all are equal before God; our truest identity is as His beloved children.

For me, this truth has been freeing. While others may find meaning in specific labels, I have found peace in embracing my eternal relationship with Christ alone. This relationship is what defines me, brings lasting worth, and reveals who I truly am. I belong to Christ, and as I keep the covenants I have made with Him, I am reminded of His protection as I honor the temple garment and my belonging to Him. 

Resurrection: The Promise of Complete Healing

The doctrine of resurrection offers profound hope to all who have suffered emotional, spiritual, or physical pain. The resurrection is not merely a return to life—it is a promise of perfect, complete healing. I believe my unwanted sexual attractions stem from deep emotional wounds, fears, and unmet needs. I hold with full faith that in the resurrection, these pains will be fully healed, and these struggles will no longer define my eternal journey.

Elder Uchtdorf’s words ring true to me: 

Every time the Savior healed anyone ‘afflicted in any manner,’ both before and after His Resurrection, it was a testament to His ultimate power to heal our souls. Each miraculous healing was but a prelude and promise of the lasting physical and emotional healing that will come to each of us in the Resurrection, which ‘is the Lord’s consummate act of healing.

The temple, rich with symbols of resurrection, instills within me a hopeful anticipation of that day.

The Altar: A Sacred Place of Sacrifice

The altar in the temple symbolizes sacrifice—a vital part of spiritual growth. For sexual minorities, this concept resonates deeply, reflecting the personal sacrifices made to align my life with God’s will. While the Book of Mormon teaches that “men are, that they might have joy” (2 Nephi 2:25), true joy arises not from indulgence but from consecration and sacrifice.

At the altar, we are invited to offer our whole selves—heart, mind, and body—as living sacrifices. The temple endowment teaches that life’s “thorns” create necessary opposition and trials. I find comfort knowing my struggles are not meaningless; they serve a divine purpose to help me lean more heavily on the Savior and learn unwavering trust.

The altar also symbolizes death—the death of false beliefs that have burdened me: the belief that I don’t belong, that my attractions define me, or that I am unworthy of love. The temple is where these lies die, replaced by eternal truths of God’s love and acceptance.

Gender in the Temple: Healing and Honor

Gender is a sacred part of God’s plan, reflected in the temple’s respectful separation of men and women during ordinances. This division is not exclusionary but designed to foster healing, respect, and understanding.

For sexual minorities who have struggled with confusion related to gender or identity, the temple offers a rare and precious space to heal. President Nelson reminds us, “Spend more time in the temple, and seek to understand how the temple teaches you to rise above this fallen world.”

In a world moving toward erasing gender distinctions, the temple upholds the divine importance of masculine and feminine roles, offering a sacred environment where these roles can be understood and embraced.

Marriage and Sealing: Trusting God’s Eternal Plan

The temple teaches that God’s plan for marriage is between a man and a woman—a truth that can be challenging for sexual minorities to reconcile. I have learned to trust in God’s higher ways, reminded by a line in my patriarchal blessing that in the next life, I will be reunited with both family and “loved ones.”

President Holland has said, “I wouldn’t know how to speak of heaven, without my wife or my children. It would not be heaven for me.” I agree—heaven would not be heaven without my wife or children, but also not without the companionship of cherished friends who are vital to my emotional well-being.

The sealing ordinance also reinforces my roles and responsibilities as a husband and father. Though imperfect, as I strive to do my part, the Savior’s grace covers my weaknesses, promising immense blessings to those who remain faithful.

The Veil Ceremony: A Moment of Divine Connection

The veil ceremony is one of my very favorite temple experiences. It offers a tangible sense of closeness to the Lord. I often reflect on how Christ desires to communicate with me and draw me near. Standing before the veil, I feel seen, loved, and fully accepted.

The veil, rent at the Savior’s crucifixion, symbolizes the bridge He created—through His sacrifice, we can return home and be united with Him. This ordinance encapsulates the intimate relationship God wants each of us to have with Him.

The Celestial Room: A Place of Light and Reflection

The celestial room is a sanctuary of peace where I commune quietly with my Heavenly Father. Often, I ask Him, “What do You want me to know or feel today?” The answers come as gentle assurances of His love and awareness of my needs.

Our prophet encourages us to “think celestial,” and the more time I spend in this room, the more I carry that light into the “lone and dreary world.” Surrounded by beauty and light, I leave with renewed hope to share that light with others.

Sharing the Temple Experience with Friends

Going to the temple with close friends or family enriches the experience. It becomes a space where we can share vulnerable moments, deepen gospel understanding, and uplift one another.

A few years ago, I invited a brother I minister to, to accompany me weekly to the temple. I wrestled with whether I was attending to feel closer to my friend or my Heavenly Father. Through prayer, I received reassurance that God gave me friends so that I might feel His love more fully.

Conclusion: A Journey of Wholeness and Hope

Each time I walk through the temple doors, I am reminded that I am not alone. The peace I find there renews my spirit and fortifies my resolve to live according to God’s plan. In His eyes, I am whole, loved, and infinitely worthy.

I share my journey in the hope that it might offer encouragement to others walking similar paths—or to those seeking to support them. The temple remains for me a sacred refuge—a place of healing, peace, and holiness that I cherish deeply.

The post Chastity, Covenant, and Quiet Redemption: The Temple for a Sexual Minority Saint appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

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In 1871, early feminist icons Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton visited Salt Lake City. They were welcomed by Latter-day Saint women and leaders, including General Relief Society President Eliza R. Snow. As they toured Utah, they praised the progress of Latter-day Saint women—especially in earning the right to vote—but also criticized the Church, its male-led structure, and its traditions. They condemned the priesthood, early marriage, and large families, arguing these practices benefited men at women’s expense. Stanton even urged women to form their own religious creeds, while Anthony said any church governed solely by male revelation could never satisfy her.

While President Snow supported women’s progress, she was alarmed by the attacks on her faith. A month later, she wrote a speech to help Latter-day Saints interpret both praise and criticism. “In the Church and Kingdom of God, the interests of men and women are the same,” she wrote. “Man has no interests separate from that of women … our interests are all united.” In today’s divided cultural moment, Snow’s gospel-centered vision of equality is more needed than ever—not just to defend women, but to offer hope to a generation of quietly struggling young men.

I noticed this crisis long before the experts did—in high school, on my mission, and most clearly while serving as an Elders Quorum president in my YSA ward in Spanish Fork, Utah. Even with that firsthand experience, I don’t believe young men are simple victims, or that any one cause is to blame. But what I’ve seen is this: as jobs, degrees, and romantic prospects feel scarcer, many men retreat into video games, pornography, and distraction. They delay adulthood out of fear and self-doubt. Society, meanwhile, promotes female empowerment while labeling men as toxic or privileged. I see my peers growing bitter, feeling punished for sins they didn’t commit, unsure what to believe, and disconnected from any clear sense of purpose. It’s a spiritual crisis that we need to start taking seriously.

As things worsen, many young men—including myself—are searching for answers. But voicing these concerns often triggers a mental gag reflex, as if sympathy for men means opposing women’s progress. Anyone who raises men’s issues risks being branded “redpilled,” misogynistic, or sexist. This stigma creates an unnecessary barrier to discussing solutions. Our first step must be to reject the premise that helping men and helping women are mutually exclusive agendas. This premise stifles productive dialogue and has, in part, helped create the current crisis in the first place.

There are two main camps who hold to the premise of mutual exclusivity: progressives, who tell us men unfairly hoard all social capital—a concept known as “the patriarchy”; and the growing reactionary movement (known as the “incel” or “ultra-masculinity” movement) who argue several versions of the opposite. Because both sides strongly believe that men and women are locked in a zero-sum game, the public consciousness has widely accepted mutual exclusivity as an unchangeable fact. Unfortunately, this mindset is somewhat prevalent in Latter-day Saints as well.

While it’s true that women have historically been on the losing end of the societal contract, eventually we need to recognize the incredible successes of the feminist movement in recent decades. Consider this: women’s BA degree share rose from 43% in 1979 to 58% in 2020—with men dropping from 57% to 42%—and since 1979, women’s inflation-adjusted median wage increased by 29%, while men’s dropped by 3%, with poorer men hit hardest. This means that in education, men are further behind women today than women were behind men 50 years ago, and in the workplace, men are on a downward trajectory for the first time in history. More anomalies like this continue to surface. When women were behind, society mobilized to help them, and now they have progressed by leaps and bounds. But now, in some very critical ways, young men are falling behind, and they are not receiving the same amount of attention or support to prevent further decline. It is both possible and important to help both men and women, for the fates of one are inevitably tied to the other. Better young men mean better and safer peers, coworkers, and family members, and most importantly, more valuable, supportive, and reliable partners. 

Eliza R. Snow understood that men and women needed each other, and argued that it would be counterproductive for women to tear down men in the pursuit of equality. She pointed out that men only stood to gain from the increased capacity of women as they became educated, organized, and empowered. As she once declared in one Relief Society meeting, “I feel happy to see so many of my brethren present. It strengthens me to have them know what we are teaching their wives and daughters. The outside world [is] continually clashing, but we like the assistance of our husbands in our organized state. We stand as [helpmeets] to our husbands.” To Snow, there were no limited resources. Not only was there enough to go around, there was a way to make more for everyone.

It’s for this reason I believe The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has the moral authority to lead out on these issues. We believe that harmonious and synergistic cooperation between men and women is an essential qualifier for eternal life, and this alone gives us a better foundation to address the divide between the sexes than any other organization on Earth. There is much the Latter-day Saints of Christ’s Church can do to help young men and women in this critical moment. We can champion the enablement of women just as Eliza R. Snow intended, and at the same time, we can offer help and hope to the young men facing the intense tempests of our day alone. 

So what exactly needs to happen? The crisis in young men stems from two core issues: a lack of connection and a lack of identity. I explore these in more depth—and offer specific, culturally grounded solutions—in the first print edition of The Cougar Chronicle, BYU’s independent student paper, published this summer. Here, I’ll briefly share a few suggestions Latter-day Saints can apply, but for the full picture, I encourage reading the complete piece.

First, young men face a deep lack of connection—both with friends and romantic partners. A male loneliness epidemic is clear in studies like one from the Survey Center on American Life, which found that 15% of men report having no close friends, a “staggering” 12% increase since 1990. The dating landscape is equally dismal. Today, research shows how a minority of high-value men are dominating romantic and sexual attention, but the cultural retreat from marriage has removed their incentive to grow up and commit. Meanwhile, most men are left frustrated, fueling their loneliness and turning them towards pornography, drugs, and distractions that stunt growth romantically, spiritually, and economically. Women, though more educated and financially stable, still seek more educated and stable partners—something increasingly hard to find. Many women are understandably disillusioned with the immature, non-committal men at the top of the ladder, and equally put off by the lonely, insecure men at the bottom. Some women don’t even feel safe, with over a third believing most men would take sexual advantage of a woman if given the chance.

As I just alluded to, loneliness is also mutually reinforcing with the widespread pornography epidemic. A 2007 BYU study found that 48% of male students viewed pornography at least weekly, with 3% of women reporting the same. One in five men said they viewed it nearly daily. These numbers match recent national trends, so the rates are likely similar—or even higher—today. That suggests over 10,000 Latter-day Saint young men in Provo alone may be battling pornography habits. This places an overwhelming burden on ward and stake leaders, who often serve as the only institutional line of defense. 

There are uncounted possible solutions to help young men break free from porn, vice, and isolation and foster their connection with peers and romantic partners. In the case of pornography, more leaders (particularly those in older generations who do not understand the prevalence and modus operandi of pornography today) need to follow the example of the Brethren and utilize more modern and scientific approaches to helping young men with pornography addictions. This needs to be discussed more frequently and with more exactness by parents, leaders, and young men themselves. 

We also need to address the imbalance in the friendship and dating economies. Because women continue to value men who have more resources than they do, perhaps more needs to be done to offer men scholarships to graduate programs or advancement opportunities in certain fields, such as nursing or education. More needs to be done about the increasing rate at which men are dropping out of school. There is also more we can do to foster networking and mentorship among young men to build friendships and accelerate careers. We don’t have every answer, but as of right now, no effort to move in the direction of helping young men find connection would be wasted.

The solution, of course, is to start filling the vacuum with something better. Rather than telling men their masculinity is toxic, we should help men understand the truth: that masculinity is a complex basket of natural and neutral characteristics and tendencies which can be used for good or for evil. We then teach them that  ‘healthy’ or ‘mature’ masculinity is the careful channeling of these base elements towards honorable pursuits, such as education, talents, providing for a family, and serving God. Latter-day Saints should seek every opportunity to ensure that young men are being properly taught who they are as men to prevent them from feeling drawn into the vacuum of falsehoods that exists online. The bottom line is that we must be more explicit in our educational opportunities with them. There is no danger in telling men that it is not just good, but amazing, to be a righteous man bearing the priesthood. 

As our young men suffer silently, few Latter-day Saints seem to be aware of how much good they can do at so little a cost. We have been prepared by examples like Eliza R Snow, modern prophets, and the Lord Jesus Christ to be examples to the world that compassion and equity for all is possible, even with difficult issues like today’s gender divide. No other church is built on a better foundation to heal this divide than The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, which teaches that an essential qualifier for eternal life itself is harmonious and synergistic cooperation between men and women. As Latter-day Saints become aware of the tempests our young men are facing and employ gospel-based relief efforts, lives will be changed, courses will be rerouted, divisions will be healed, the culture will be strengthened, and our struggling, tempest-tossed young men will finally see the flickering light of hope across the waves.

The post Anchoring Tempest-Tossed Men: Faith’s Response to a Rising Crisis appeared first on Public Square Magazine.