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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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As a psychologist and psychotherapist who specializes in the relationship between psychology and faith, I regularly work with religious people who struggle with feelings of unworthiness and guilt. Some of them have developed symptoms of OCD/Scrupulosity because their thoughts and feelings convince them––despite what Christ taught––that they are not forgiven for their sins even when they have repented. Sometimes, they find themselves compelled to call their priesthood leader every morning to confess all their sins, just as they did the day before, to calm their mind and get a brief respite from debilitating obsessive thoughts and feelings of guilt.

Because I uniquely position myself to help people of faith with psycho-spiritual issues, church leaders regularly ask me to speak to their members about related topics. Recently, I have been asked to speak more often about self-compassion. Like other concepts with ancient religious roots, this topic has become too secularized and psychologized of late. Compassion  has been mostly or altogether separated from its original purpose and meaning—‘to suffer with another.’  Now ironically made into a property of the self, each of us needs to develop and practice self-compassion in order to be healthy and well.

Too Much Self!

This shift from the religious and the relational to the secular and the individual is commonplace in psychology. It is not an exaggeration to say psychology has a fixation on locating properties and qualities within the self and then placing responsibility for the care of those properties onto the self. Here are just a few examples:

• Be more self-reliant and strive to become increasingly self-sufficient, recognizing each person is ultimately responsible for themself.
• In pursuit of self-mastery practice self-control over thoughts, self-regulation over feelings, and self-discipline over actions.
• Develop a strong and positive self-concept and high self-esteem. Minimize negative self-talk and maximize positive self-affirmations.
• Be true to yourself, live in a manner that is self-authentic and self-congruent, and beware of becoming the social self––which is the self others want you to be.
• Above all else, love yourself, which entails things like forgiving yourself and practicing self-compassion and self-care.

Why does psychology demand so much of the self both professionally and in its wildly popular “self-help” arm?

Why the Self?

Almost 400 years ago, a French soldier, mathematician, scientist, and philosopher by the name of Rene Descartes endeavored to find certainty––which had long been the holy grail of philosophical inquiry. His 1637 publication Discourse on Method describes his application of a systematic form of skepticism through which he doubted everything possible. Descartes doubted the existence of God, the physical world, the existence of other people, and even our own bodies until he arrived at that which could not be doubted: doubt itself. To doubt is to engage in doubting. So, doubting anything––including doubt––requires doubt and the doubter. Doubting, he concluded, is a form of thinking done by a thinker. So, the thinking self is the one thing that cannot be doubted and, therefore, must be certain. This is the origin of perhaps the most influential philosophical assertion of the Western world, “I think, therefore I am,” or “When I am thinking, then I exist.”

The Burden of the Thinking Self

This makes the often frustrating “chatter” in our heads (Kross, 2021) necessary to the survival and maintenance of the self. But survival requires more than continuous thought, it requires correct thinking. Wrong thinking may not threaten being, but it wobbles the certainty of its foundation. One could live getting things wrong, but not securely or safely. So, we think very hard to get things right. From a Cartesian worldview, thinking has to be constant and correct.

The burden of self-contained thinking leaves little bandwidth available for caring about other things, including other people. Research bears this out, showing our thoughts, conversations, and posts are self-centered most of the time (Ward, 2013). Social isolation and loneliness have become a significant public health epidemic in many countries (Surkalim and others, 2022). Psychology and psychotherapy contribute to this problem when only offering people self-solutions, which leave the self increasingly isolated (Cushman, 1990). But when the thinking self alone is the trusted source of certainty, what else can be done? 

Faith in Self or Faith in Christ?

For Christians, the philosophy of being doesn’t begin or end with Descartes and his doubt. Sixteen hundred years earlier, Jesus Christ told his followers to trust in Him––not in themselves––saying, “If any man will come after me, let him deny himself” (Matthew 16:24). His words echo the proverb “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding” (Proverbs 3:5). Nephi––whose thoughts condemned him as a “wretched man” (2 Nephi 4:17)––would not put his trust in his thoughts and feelings, instead crying out, “O Lord, I have trusted in thee, and I will trust in thee forever. I will not put my trust in the arm of the flesh” (v. 34).

Faith over Feelings

Consider again the psycho-spiritual issue of feeling guilty and unworthy. When breaking a commandment or neglecting the things one should do, a feeling of guilt is common. If the guilt works in a manner consistent with God’s will, then it will lead to repentance and the forgiveness God promises. The guilt should then end, having served its purpose. But often, for many people––and not just those with OCD and Scrupulosity––the guilt remains, and the forgiveness is questioned. Was the repentance sincere and sufficient? Was the sin really forsaken? Were full reparations made? Shouldn’t I feel better? Why do I still feel bad? Maybe I don’t deserve forgiveness. Maybe I can’t be worthy again. Into our heads we go.

Choose His Thoughts Over Your Thoughts

This is not easy. It is actually scary. It is hard to give up something that feels familiar and essential to existence for something promised by someone other than the self, even God. It requires the leap of faith captured so beautifully by Minnie Haskins (1908):

And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year,

“Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”

And he replied:

“Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God. 

That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”

Putting faith in Christ over ever-present thoughts and feelings is a very real and conscious choice that has to be made and remade on a regular basis. Thankfully, we have access to His thoughts––which are not our thoughts––as scripture stated by Him directly or revealed through His prophets. He has spoken to those who wrestle with their own thinking and feelings, with anxieties and fears, people who are “careful and troubled about many things” (Luke 10:41). He shows that we can be careful and troubled and still trust in His words. To accept His forgiveness, peace, and comfort, we can’t make our thoughts and feelings the arbiter of our status with the Lord, and we cannot employ self-compassion. Instead, we must yield to His compassion and what He has said over and over again that 

“My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish; neither shall any man [not even oneself] pluck them out of my hand” (John 10:27-29).

References:

Cushman P. (1990). Why the self is empty. Toward a historically situated psychology. American Psychologist, 45, 599-611. doi: 10.1037//0003-066x.45.5.599. PMID: 2190505.

Haskins, M. L. (1908). God knows. In https://www.stgeorges-windsor.org/the-gate-of-the-year/

Kross, E. (2021). Chatter: The voice in our head, why it matters, and how to harness it. Crown: New York.

Surkalim, D. L., Luo, M., Eres, R., Gebel, K., van Buskirk, J., Bauman, A., & Ding, D. (2022). The prevalence of loneliness across 113 countries: systematic review and meta-analysis. BMJ (Clinical research ed.), 376, e067068. https://doi.org/10.1136/bmj-2021-067068

Vieten, C., Scammell, S., Pierce, A., Pilato, R., Ammondson, I., Pargament, K. I., & Lukoff, D. (2016). Competencies for psychologists in the domains of religion and spirituality. Spirituality in Clinical Practice, 3(2), 92–114.

Ward, A. F. (July 16, 2013). The Neuroscience of everybody’s favorite topic: Why do people spend so much time talking about themselves? Scientific American.

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A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, an infamous father named Vader ironically quipped, “I find your lack of faith disturbing.” 

Irony and fiction aside, many present-day parents continue to find their children’s lack of faith not only disturbing but heartbreaking. Such heartbreak, however, is becoming normative. National data indicate that almost half (44%) of Americans have left the religious affiliation of their childhood. Additionally, 78% of those who identified themselves as religiously unaffiliated (a.k.a. “Nones”) reported that they were raised in religious families. 

Many members of devout faith ask, What can we do to slow this religious exodus? 

Many who view religion as unimportant or even harmful may think, Why even try? Good riddance to religion. 

Indeed, both camps have a leg upon which to stand. Religion can both help and harm—a dualistic reality documented by several of our own recent studies. While emotion can run high around religion, both medical and social science (including the branches of psychology, family studies, and sociology) provide scores of studies indicating that religiosity tends to correlate with positive youth development via beneficial outcomes like moral development, lower engagement in high-risk behaviors, better parent-child relationships, and clear identity formation.

Adolescence, however, is not the end. Benefits correlated with religiosity appear to not only continue but expand during early, mid, and later adulthood. 

Given that religion can be a potent force for good—or bad—it is vitally important to understand the differences between healthy, “generative devotion” and “destructive faith.”

When religion is lived out well, much good tends to come. Across three editions of the Handbook of Religion and Health (2001, 2012, and 2024), Harold Koenig and colleagues have systematically reviewed a combined total of more than 3,000 studies. In summary, health outcomes associated with high religious involvement are extensive and include (1) higher levels of mental health and positive coping, (2) lower rates of cancer and heart disease, and (3) significantly greater longevity and quality of life. The wise reader is aware that “correlation is not necessarily causation,” but as the related body of studies has climbed from hundreds to thousands, the case for correlation between high religious involvement and various aspects of health has been firmly established.    

A fourth benefit involves a more stable and satisfying marriage when a faith is actively shared.

It seems that most parents (religious or not) would desire this array of benefits for their own children. Yet, it is not merely the physical and mental health concerns that haunt the religious parent whose child is “done” with religion. For many religious parents of children who have exited, it is the relational concerns that weigh heaviest. Relationships with family, relationships with God … what will become of these?

Our future as researchers will be spent trying to find answers to these difficult problems and helping families to best navigate the related tensions and challenges in optimal ways. However, our past three decades have been spent interviewing exemplary parents of faith, to learn about their lessons learned and “best practices” as their children and youth were growing up. We will discuss five different important concepts shared with us by these parents and youth.

Concept 1: Youth-Centered Conversations

In our in-depth interviews with strong families, we learned that religious conversations between parents and their children often yielded two specific outcomes. One resulted in positive youth development, and the other resulted in frustration for the youth. The youth in our study identified that when their parents lectured them about religion, they felt resistant and closed off. When youth were allowed to direct the conversations, these youth-centered dialogues resulted in them feeling more involved and more comfortable sharing their deeper thoughts, reflections, and concerns with their parents. Key parts of youth-centered conversations included: 

1. Youth talk more, and parents listen more … and lecture less.

2. Youth seek and receive understanding from parents.

3. Religion is authentically related and connected to the youth’s life.

4. Open and consistent conversations between parent and child take place.

5. Parent-youth interaction nurtures their shared relationship.

Key implications from these findings are that most youth want and need to be involved in meaningful religious conversations with their parents and other family members. This means that parents need to listen more and preach less. A 13-year-old Orthodox Christian son, Kenny, said, “Sometimes my parents don’t know the answer, so then it’s … a discussion because they don’t have the answer to give me.” Do not be afraid as a parent to broach subjects that you may not have all the answers to; help your child to grow through discussion. 

Jack, an 18-year-old Baptist son, said that the parents of some of his friends neglected youth-centered conversation in order to share their own faith, 

I’ve seen some of my friends … where parents are slamming Bible verses in their face, and really not loving them, not helping them grow. It’s more like a forceful thing, at unnecessary times, when it really would have been helpful just for them to sit down and talk with their kids.

Concept 2: Anchors of Religious Commitment 

One of our American Families of Faith studies focused on what adolescents feel “anchored” to most in religion. Commitments discussed by youth included God, their family’s faith tradition, their parents, scripture and other sacred texts, and religious leaders. All of these commitments in a youth’s life reportedly served as anchors that enhanced their spirituality and helped them to define their identity. 

One recurring anchor was religious traditions, rituals, and laws. One 10-year-old Jewish daughter named Hannah said, 

I like Hanukkah. … [I]t’s just, it’s fun to be able to light your own menorah and to invite friends over to come do it with you. … Purim is fun because you get to dress up, and Pesach [Passover] is fun because the whole family’s there and all that sort of stuff.

As parents, it can be helpful to listen and learn what our child’s most meaningful anchors are. We are then better able to support them in their efforts to deepen, strengthen, and find meaning through these connections to both family and faith.

Concept 3: Religious Exploration

 Adolescence is a time of exploration. It can be frightening to a devout parent to have their child begin to question or doubt their faith—or attend services with friends of other faiths. However, sincere questioning, searching for deeper truth, and exploring the religious worlds of others are all sacred activities in their own way. It is vital that youth are able to explore because these experiences are important for identity formation. 

Growth and transitions, including normal development and maturation, graduating from high school, and leaving home for the first time, all tend to lead adolescents to experiment with their faith. While challenging for youth and parents, such events are normative. 

An 18-year-old Baptist son named Jake spoke of how leaving home and learning new things challenged and affected his thinking. He said, “This year … entering the University… and applying to be a philosophy major, lots of questions come up. I keep having to ask myself, ‘What do I really believe? What do I believe about this?’”

During religious exploration, parents can encourage their youth to: (1) ask questions and have religious conversations, (2) ponder and self-reflect, (3) seek to have meaningful personal experiences, (4) observe and learn from the experiences of others, and (5) ask for advice or guidance. 

Adults need to be aware that giving youth needed space is healthy, but parents also need to be a support while youth are exploring their faith. This could look like assisting youth to hold to their core beliefs while also seeking for answers and insights related to religious and existential questions. Parents can also encourage youth to connect with religious leaders and to maintain supportive relationships with family members.

Concept 4:  Firmness and Flexibility 

Parents need to learn to exercise and balance both religious firmness and flexibility when trying to pass on their faith to their children. Efforts to do both can be challenging. 

A firmness will be needed to demonstrate the importance of religious practices. One African American Baptist father voiced that, “There are Sundays when [the kids] don’t want to go, [but still] I said, ‘We have to, you have to go to church.’ I mean, that’s just a practice of this family.” On the other hand, it is also important to have flexibility in these family practices. Abigail, a Reform Jewish mother, shared a contrasting experience; she stated, “[B]ecause we’re tired on Friday night, we don’t go to synagogue as much as we want to. And, because of other time commitments, there’s just never enough time to do as much as maybe we should for the Jewish community.”

An example of combining both firmness and flexibility in religious practices comes from Banafsha, a Muslim mother, who shared her family experience with prayer: “We don’t want to delay the prayer of anybody. If they are studying, they can pray in their room and keep studying [and] not wait for the other ones … we didn’t want to make it hard for anybody.”

It is also important to demonstrate firmness and flexibility in religious beliefs. A Muslim father describes the rigidity in their beliefs that occur, “If it is something that has already been prescribed religiously, then there is no discussion.” Being flexible in religious beliefs can also benefit children to feel more comfortable in discussing why certain beliefs exist. An example of flexibility comes from a Jewish mother who shares her opinion on gender worship:

I have a problem with gender roles [in] religion in general, so I ignore them. I don’t abide by them. … Like in Orthodox [Judaism], … I don’t agree with the idea of having women and men separated during ceremonies. Women are not allowed on the bimah [podium from which Torah is read], and you can’t listen to a woman’s solo voice [in synagogue], and I just don’t believe in that. 

Flexibility in beliefs and religious practices can help a child to be more accepting. Parents who desire their child’s spiritual development to continue to positively grow would be wise to engage with their youth in ways that respect their choices, their interests, their circumstances, and their daily schedules. It is also equally important to maintain firm beliefs of religious convictions when appropriate.

Concept 5: Striving to Teach by Positive Example (The Principle of Lived Invitation)

Many of the parents we have interviewed emphasized the vital nature of being an example, being authentic, and being consistent. A Conservative Jewish mother talked about authenticity and said,

I presented to [our children] an ever-expanding view of Judaism and that I was always honest about my anger with the religion, anger with the Rabbis, my own distress about the religion. [I wanted them to know] that whatever I chose to give them from the more Orthodox approach was something that I really believed in.”

This mother understood how to be authentic with her beliefs with her children. 

One parent, a United Church of Christ father, did not talk about “lecturing” his children but spoke at length about being present in his children’s lives, noting that, “I think a lot of it is just being there and spending time with my children, and listening to them and playing with them. Challenging them to do better.”

Some parents we have interviewed emphasized “practicing” so heavily that “preaching” was downplayed as almost unnecessary.  Angie, a Muslim mother of two, said,

In terms of religion, it doesn’t matter how much the father talks to the children [about religion]; the children will learn from what the father does. … If my children see my husband go to the Mosque every night for prayer [which he does] he is setting an example. I don’t have to “teach” it. They are seeing it.

A Korean Christian father named Oui similarly reflected on striving for an exemplary religious life. He said,

If we can help my son be like Jesus Christ or close to Jesus Christ, what else can we worry about for our child? [But] I can’t really “teach” … we have to show him by what we do during our life. If we do very well for God and other people, then he will know what he has to do.

One of the most central concepts the exemplary families have discussed and modeled is what we have termed the principle of lived invitation. In summary, it is this: Our behavior is permission to others to behave similarly … but it is more than that. It is an invitation to do so.

Conclusion

Our hope for religious parents is that they feel more comfortable in helping their youth develop positively. Having youth-centered conversations can help adolescents to open up about their personal experiences and help you to understand the sacrifices that they make. Remember that adolescence is truly a time of spiritual exploration, and encourage youth to not doubt their faith while seeking answers to their questions. Parents can find the religious commitments that youth are excited to keep and show them how to deepen those beliefs and practices.

You, as a parent, can also focus on the priorities you have, whether that is being an example to your kids, or trying to have more flexibility in your current religious beliefs and practices. We acknowledge that your lack of faith in your ability to help your teen or young adult child develop lasting faith may not have been completely resolved, but we wish you the best. 

Notes:

American Families of Faith findings are from a total of about 400 parents from many diverse faith communities (from the three major branches of Judaism, both the Sunni and Shia branches of Islam, and about 15 Christian denominations,).

 Marks, L. D., & Dollahite, D. C. (2017). Religion and families. Routledge. (p. 14)

The post This is the Way: Helping Youth with Positive Religious Development appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

We should defend the importance of the family as a stabilizing force in society—a spiritual and emotional respite. However, paradoxically, there is another argument for why we should be grateful for the influence of the family: there is no respite from your own big brother, and there is little stability in your relationship with your moody little sister.

Think back to your childhood. You hopefully have fond memories of laughter and play. I hope that those memories are the most vivid for you. However, for the sake of my argument, try to remember the reality of daily life with your family. Maybe your big brother ignored you, your sister was hyper-sensitive, or your dad was hard to please. But the reality of familial discord does not negate the good times. In fact, I argue that it makes them all the more miraculous.

But why would we want to defend families if this is the case? As we learn in Romans 5 and hear so often over the pulpit, suffering breeds character. “We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope.”

Chesterton emphasizes the conflict implicit in family life not as a discouragement against family but as an enticement to those of us who genuinely want self-improvement, “The best way that a man could test his readiness to encounter the common variety of mankind (to test his goodness) would be to climb down a chimney into any house at random and get on as well as possible with the people inside. And this is essentially what each one of us did on the day that he was born.” 

Why Familial Loyalty is Crumbling

Modern thinkers often reject the family because of the conflict and clashing personalities that are so often found there. They say it thwarts happiness and dampens freedom. Many feel we should be able to choose our associations rather than have to deal with unfavorable family relations. This is why we see more people breaking away from family. Indeed, one in four adults now say they are estranged from a family member. A recent article in the New Yorker discusses the reasons why an increasing number of people are having “no contact” with their parents. This is due in large part to shifting political or religious ideals or the inability to get along. Rather than condemning this trend, the author seemed to conclude that there is no way out for many families. One secular estranged daughter said of her religious parents, “Reconciliation, for me, would mean them doing a bunch of work, and I don’t think they’re going to, so I just need to move forward like it’s not going to happen.” And so, the estranged move into like-minded communities, read their favorite political pundits, and become comfortable with their chosen clan. 

Family reconciliation demands work—work that is continual and difficult for all involved. Many don’t seem willing to make that sacrifice anymore. The Christian values of forgiveness and humility seem outdated and we would rather just have a life of ease. But a life that is surrounded only by people who make us comfortable is a small world indeed. As Chesterton says, “We make our friends, we make our enemies, but God makes our next-door neighbor … That is why the old religions and the old scriptural language showed so sharp a wisdom when they spoke, not of one’s duty toward humanity, but one’s duty to one’s neighbor.” 

“Progress” is one of our favorite words, but we just don’t hear much about “becoming a good person.” Yet, if we want progress, surely the only path toward it is for individuals to improve themselves and become virtuous. Throughout human history, the quest for “goodness” has been the driver of great minds as well as common men and women. Great thinkers like Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle spent their lives seeking to define and comprehend virtue and to teach us how to live a “good” life. Their intellectual descendants in philosophy, theology, and literature have long tried to work out the way to virtue. Guiding children onto the path of goodness was once the backbone of education. Plato even defined education this way, “Education is teaching our children to desire the right things.”

Our children are now being schooled without the benefit of McGuffey Readers. Many of their lessons would seem judgmental or overly prescriptive to our modern relativist viewpoint. School curricula rarely mention “virtue” or overcoming adversity but instead focus on achievement and happiness. The traditions and morals of our ancestors crumble, and children are left with endless choices and no clear expectations of life. Children unschooled in virtue may decide that the struggles of family life impede their achievement or happiness. Therefore, we should not be surprised by free-falling marriage and birth rates.

“There is no doubt that it is around the family and the home that all the greatest virtues, the most dominating virtues of human society, are created, strengthened, and maintained.” Winston Churchhill

As Christians, however, we seek after virtue, accept suffering as part of mortality, and desire much greater ambitions than a mortal life of comfort. We want a life that demands things of us, that stretches us—we want an adventure. Chesterton explains, 

Adventure is, by nature, a thing that comes to us. It is a thing that chooses us, not a thing that we choose. The supreme adventure is being born. There we do walk suddenly into a splendid and startling trap. There we do see something of which we have not dreamed before. Our father and mother do lie in wait for us and leap out on us, like brigands from a bush. Our uncle is a surprise. Our aunt is a bolt from the blue. When we step into the family, by the act of being born, we do step into a world which is incalculable, into a world which has its own strange laws, into a world which could do without us, into a world that we have not made. In other words, when we step into the family, we step into a fairytale.

If we take control over our lives, free ourselves of pesky relatives, and create a society for ourselves, we will block ourselves from any humbling relationships that aid our virtuous progression. As Chesterton says, we may create a society “for the purpose of guarding the solitary and sensitive individual from all experience of the bitter and bracing human compromises. It is, in the most literal sense of the words, a society for the prevention of Christian knowledge.” 

The “Thrownness” of the Family

German philosopher Martin Heidegger describes our birth into this world as being “thrown” into our lives. We didn’t choose the place or circumstances of our birth nor our relatives and culture. Although there are some theories that premortal souls may have had some choice in their ultimate destination, there is no clear doctrine on this topic. Therefore, we will assume that the ‘throwing’ was done by our Heavenly Father. Seeing that we are often thrown into situations that are difficult and with people with whom we don’t naturally get along, comfort doesn’t seem to be His goal for our lives. Instead, God wants us to become good, to prove we can take the life we are thrown into and turn it into a hero’s epic. 

The home is where most of our heroism must occur. There is a special kind of annoyance that happens in the home, a more potent offense and a more stinging rebuke than found anywhere else in the world. We could travel around the world among diverse cultures and never encounter anyone as incomprehensible as our own sister. We can seek and attain honor and glory on Wall Street but find no one whose opinion matters more to us than our own fastidious father. We may debate opposing ideologies throughout the nation but will find no one’s politics more upsetting than our own Uncle Bob.  

“The family is a good institution because it is uncongenial. It is wholesome precisely because it contains so many divergences and varieties. It is like a little kingdom and, like most other little kingdoms, is generally in a state of something resembling anarchy.” ~ G.K. Chesterton

Perhaps we listen to sweet and idyllic descriptions of the family and think our own family is unique in its chaos and conflict—it isn’t. But that’s okay.

Taking Heidegger’s concept, who has been ‘thrown’ at us that we must learn to deal with? Who were we ‘thrown’ at? More than likely, we were thrown some curve balls. Considering the shared genetics, environment, and culture, it is miraculous how different members of a family can be from one another. Perhaps this diversity was purposely orchestrated by a loving Heavenly Father who knows what we need to progress. 

It’s a sad irony that we would never have been as neglectful of our high-school teacher’s instructions as we were of our beloved mother’s. Our brother would never have treated his friend’s little sister the way he did his own. But, because we deeply loved our mother and, despite his denials, our big brother cherished his little sister—there was, and is, a persistent power present in the family sufficient to enable a deep and lasting change to our character. 

I remember well as a child that my best friend was my sister, who was two years older than me. She was also my worst enemy. She was sweet, quiet, and sensitive. I was overconfident, pushy, and insensitive. This led to some hardship. I remember feeling like she always thought the worst of me. She remembers my rudeness. Years into our adulthood, we would still get into arguments. But I have changed, and so has she. I am less brash and sarcastic than I used to be, and my sister is more resilient than she used to be. It seems reasonable to assume these changes came from varied life experiences, travels, or extensive reading of scripture, psychology, and philosophy. 

But honestly, I think the change came because of our relationship and the slow chipping away of each other’s rough edges. I began to choose not to say things because I didn’t want her to take it the wrong way. She chose to let things go. I believe I am a better person because I had to go through the difficulty of adapting to my sister. We got through our trying and wonderful childhood and are still best friends, but we are no longer worst enemies. 

If we believe this life is a grand adventure—a place to prove ourselves, develop ourselves, and prepare ourselves for even greater tests in life—what better place to become “good” than those places that God “throws” us? In the relationship we did not choose, we will find inconvenient people who help us stretch experiences and grow. The family may be the harshest and most demanding of all tests. 

Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations, written 2000 years ago, is full of a Roman emperor’s philosophical rumination on how to be a good man and how to deal stoically with our fellow humans. It’s almost humorous to read how the ruler of a huge empire, whose daily life was filled with conquering armies, political strife, and exotic adventures, has to repeatedly reassure himself he is capable of dealing with everyday interactions with family and associates. He writes, “When you wake up in the morning, tell yourself: the people I deal with today will be meddling, ungrateful, arrogant, dishonest, jealous and surly. … And so none of them can hurt me. No one can implicate me in ugliness. Nor can I feel angry at my relative or hate him. We were born to work together like feet, hands, and eyes, like the two rows of teeth, upper and lower.”

Goodness is Built at Home

Of all the quests we may take, there is none more primed to lead us on the path of goodness than those inside the walls of our own homes. It is in our home that we become true heroes. It is in our unchosen environments that we test our virtues. If we want to prove ourselves as disciples of Christ, emissaries of love and forgiveness, we must succeed on the battlefield of our own home.

As a mother of five, it is easy for me to be profoundly grateful for my beautiful children and my life full of loving moments. The greatest joys in life come through my family as well as the greatest miseries and strife.  If I can, through the lack of peace and pleasantness, find reconciliation, patience, and love, perhaps I have found the path toward goodness and adventure.

If we ponder the many things we have to be grateful for this Thanksgiving, perhaps we could consider the hardships found in our own homes. Let’s pray for peace and work towards harmony. But let’s also teach our son that if he could just learn to get along with his little sister, ruling Rome would be easy.

Link to the essay for Heretics by G.K. Chesterton, which is quoted at length.

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In conversations across kitchen counters and in deep, comfy armchairs, Kai’s story came to life one “tell me more about that” at a time. Kai’s story begins in the peaceful countryside of Vietnam, four hours away from the bustling city of Saigon. Growing up on a family farm, Kai’s childhood was marked by simplicity and tranquility. He often helped his mother at their family’s baked goods stall, where the transformation of dough into delicious treats ignited his passion for cooking and baking. “During my third-grade year, I was so passionate about it that my brother bought me a baking book,” Kai recalls.

Around that same time, his family installed an internet connection. Kai vividly remembers overhearing his brother playing games in English. “I wondered what those words meant,” he says. “They looked cool, and it was the first time I realized that not everyone spoke Vietnamese.” As Kai’s interest in baking and English grew, he faced the challenge of finding ingredients and tools in the countryside. Undeterred, he turned to YouTube cooking shows, where he read subtitles and learned English through culinary terms like “sprinkle,” “boiling,” and “flipping.”

While exploring options that would satisfy both his aspirations and his parents’ wishes, Kai discovered the “food science” program at BYU-Idaho. This program offered not only professional culinary training but also an affordable education, which was crucial for his family. Notably, almost two-thirds of BYU-Idaho students graduate with zero student debt. The university takes families like Kai’s into consideration when making decisions about education costs at an administrative level. “We’re very serious about minimizing the financial burden of higher education,” said Alvin F. Meredith III, president of BYU-Idaho. The program aligned perfectly with Kai’s dream of professional culinary training. However, there was a unique aspect to the application process—an ecclesiastical endorsement. “I didn’t want to research the Church, but I needed to talk to a local religious leader,” Kai explains.

Despite initial doubts, this requirement led to a transformative journey. The first part of the journey started with a 5:00 a.m. three-hour trip to visit a local bishop of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. As he was leaving the meeting, he saw a Book of Mormon sitting on display. With his natural curiosity and love for reading, he asked a missionary—Elder Romney, if he had a copy lying around for purchase. The elder happily handed the book to Kai. “No charge, it’s all yours, man.” Kai didn’t stop reading the entire ride back home. It quickly became the only book he would read. He started praying and studying the gospel almost every day. He read it diligently and took it everywhere he went: to school, to parks, the gym, and he even shared it with his friends. He had a two-hour lesson with his missionaries over Zoom every week. Four or five months passed, and during his usual lesson on a summer night, Elder Romney suddenly stopped, looked at Kai, and asked. “Do you believe The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the true church of Christ?”—“Yes, I do.”— After a long pause, he continued, “Do you want to get baptized as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints?”

“I do.”

During that time, Kai was also connected with a peer mentor from BYU-Idaho. “He started talking with me and texting on WhatsApp. It gave me and my family a lot of assurance.” This mentor not only provided guidance but also picked him up from the airport and helped him settle in. “I felt an immense feeling of gratefulness for someone I’d never met. He was volunteering and really a friend. I was just so overwhelmed!”

BYU-Idaho’s Peer Mentoring program pairs new students with experienced peers to help them connect to resources and adjust to campus life. “I think it’s a very unique thing that we do, and it comes from a place of compassion,” said senior Kimberly Coffman, a peer mentor at BYU-Idaho. “There are so many who want to participate as mentors. They know what it’s like to be on both sides of the student experience and just want to be able to help during what can be a difficult or just different transition.” Kai is now giving back by serving as a mentor for incoming first-year students.

The transition from a rural farming community in Vietnam to a rural university setting in Idaho was both surreal and comforting for Kai. While the landscapes were worlds apart, the familiar sense of community and simplicity provided a sense of home. BYU-Idaho, nestled in the quiet town of Rexburg, Idaho, mirrored the peacefulness Kai had known throughout his childhood. Here, students from diverse backgrounds come together, creating a supportive and nurturing environment. The International Services office’s self-proclaimed motto is “making sure students are happy, healthy, and safe.” They help international students obtain and maintain their student visas, adjust to Rexburg, and connect to resources from application to graduation and even to postgraduate internships. For other international students considering BYU-Idaho, Kai offers strong encouragement. “There are many international students here, and the native students are welcoming and kind. Even though there are no other Vietnamese students, they help me feel cared for and loved.”

The resources at BYU-Idaho extend beyond academics to include both physical and mental health support—Kai refers to the Hart Building as the most “magical” building on campus. He also appreciates the wholesome social environment that is different from other colleges, where social life often involves partying. “At BYU-Idaho, people go skating, have ice cream dates, watch movies—it feels like a safe place.”

Addressing common misconceptions about BYU-Idaho, Kai explains that while the honor code may seem strict, it nurtures agency and encourages personal growth. “If you’re struggling, the bishop and ward family are there to help you become a better person, not to force you.” This inclusive environment is reflective of the school’s 97% acceptance rate. Kai recognizes that some people may misunderstand that as a lack of prestige. However, Kai says he has found a strong academic environment. “Most of my friends here had 4.0s in high school,” he explains. “Somehow, the school keeps a balance of support alongside an expectation of excellence. My teachers come from rigorous academic backgrounds with a lot of research experience and have a willingness and enthusiasm for getting to know their students and striving to help them in every way possible.”

The mission of BYU-Idaho is to help students become disciples of Jesus Christ who are leaders in their homes, the Church, and their communities. “There is something special happening here in Rexburg. It’s not just in the buildings, it’s in the people,” said President Meredith. “Elder Bednar, when he was president of BYU-Idaho, gave a message to students just five weeks before he was called to be an apostle. He said, ‘Let me suggest that in Rexburg, Idaho, we are in the process of creating a disciple preparation center.’ I think that’s a powerful way to describe what BYU-Idaho is about.” 

Kai’s journey from the landscape of his childhood in the Vietnamese countryside to the heartland of the American West may have seemed improbable, but it is a testament to the power of perseverance, curiosity, and a community intentionally structured to support his success. His story reminds us that dreams can become reality. In the fertile soil of BYU-Idaho, a place that felt both foreign and familiar, Kai’s dreams and discipleship have taken root.

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I moved cities and left my own apartment to rent a 6-ft x 8-ft bedroom with roommates in a 5th-floor walk-up (meaning no elevator).  

I was excited. I was nervous.

I had been an educator and an executive assistant and was walking into an Ivy League business program. I felt grateful and old and like an imposter. 

Grad school taught me many things. But among them, I learned what a community is and the power that can come from connecting with that community.

As they often do, these lessons came from some key failures.

I had membership to them largely because I had paid the price for “admission.” For school, I had been accepted and was giving them a hefty chunk of change. For church, I had regularly given my Sundays and various weeknights to showing up. For the city, I was in the trenches with New Yorkers—enduring the weather together, enduring train lines, enduring smells, and enduring living in close quarters together. 

In theory, I joined a fourth community: a dance workout gym. I was physically in that community. I had a card for the number of classes I could attend. However, I didn’t engage with people. I didn’t get to know people. I didn’t show up enough so that I could find “my people” or that they could even become “my people.” 

David McMillan, a psychologist and professor at Peabody College, has tried to create a working definition for “community” that would help his community better connect. His words deeply resonate with me. Community is “a feeling that members have of belonging, a feeling that members matter to one another and to the group, and a shared faith that members’ needs will be met through their commitment to be together.” I never created this in my dance workout gym, and consequently, every time I walked by the gym, I felt guilt and shame versus the joy and energy I had hoped to have when I signed up. 

As I have pondered my experience at the dance gym compared to my experiences in my other communities in New York, I’ve realized powerful communities aren’t passive experiences. Belonging to a community demands active participation from me and from one another, it doesn’t come merely by paying dues or living inside a boundary line.

This participation means getting outside of oneself and getting to know the others there. It means investing in their lives—and allowing others to invest in ours. Powerful communities “support one another in aspects of daily life and to develop to their fullest potential.” 

The work of helping one another develop to their fullest potential through daily, ordinary life creates joy. Investing in others creates meaning, purpose, and ultimately community—because our lives matter to and for each other. 

Does a key part of community develop because that group of individuals—your tribe of sorts—has your back? This is a group of people who proactively choose to stand together and support one another. 

Maybe you are like me . . . I recall growing up that I could be so frustrated and annoyed with my brother or a sister. I’d say the not-the-most-kind things to them or complain about them to my mom. But if I ever heard anyone talking bad about a sibling, I would defend them forever. I could be bugged internally and want some things to change, but to the world, I would defend for forever!

And an opportunity that I missed out on in my NYC dance class. 

I did open up, actively invest, and practice receiving from those I met at school and at church and even in the shared moments New Yorkers have when trains are delayed or the weather is unbearable. I sought to improve things within my sphere of influence in these communities—and would defend them each until doomsday. Relationships made in these communities have changed me in every good way possible. 

I missed out on such an opportunity with the dance class, but doing so has changed how I understand community, how I invest in people around me, and how I commit to the communities in which I belong.

The post How a Failed Dance Class Taught Me the True Meaning of Belonging appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

We find ourselves living in a place and time where all sorts of institutions are failing due to lack of interest and conflicts of interest. Church institutions are no exception. Institutional religion is being abandoned at a quick pace as people “remix” their beliefs and practices to suit their intuitional feelings and aspirations.

In two books, Tara Isabella Burton explains how we got here and how we are becoming gods unto ourselves. Self-Made: Creating Our Identities from Da Vinci to the Kardashians begins farther back than one might expect, in an age where the royal rich could do anything they wanted and everyone else couldn’t. It was a social order set in stone, so when the Renaissance dawned in Europe, and people like Leonardo Da Vinci (who were not royal or rich, but genius) appeared, people needed an explanation.

Along with the Renaissance came the origins of “self-help”—how to become like these cultivated men. In a sense, they became just like the “influencers” of today. People studied how to transcend their own commonness and adopt certain qualities to be like them. Thus, they got a hold of books, like “… Baldassare Castiglione’s 1528 publication, The Courtier, which was a guide for those who wished to serve in aristocratic courts like Castiglione’s own duchy of Urbino.” A man could imagine no longer being stuck in a hierarchical social system but getting the system fitted to him.

Following the Renaissance, the Enlightenment expanded in this new direction. The old order was fracturing; the class system gradually seemed possible to transcend, according to a man’s originality, wit, and self-promotion. “The idea that our personal desires are the truest, deepest parts of ourselves and should dictate our lives and our fates is a direct successor to the Enlightenment’s disenchantment of custom.” 

Coincidentally, this process not only involved making social classes more fluid but also hacking away at the hierarchy of the Catholic Church. The Reformation, with scripture printed in the vernacular, enabled people to read scripture on their own and derive their own inspiration. (The Enlightenment and Reformation were absolutely necessary for the Restoration, where a new religion started with a book and the encouragement to read it and pray to receive one’s own witness of its truth. This same process, however, eventually resulted in about 45,000 unique Protestant denominations.)

Early secular self-makers used transgression with purpose—they were trying to portray themselves as “superior to, and distinct from, the rules and customs of society.” Moral, aesthetic, or sexual transgressions against solid norms set the self-made apart. An important manifestation of this was dandyism, which flourished in the late 1700s, with Beau Brummell’s name going down through history. One needed a flair for fashion and an entertaining wit. People who made it into “Le bon-ton” could reach the top of the social ladder, and other people felt like this could be learned.

America—The Land of the Self-Made

All of this translated very well from Europe to America. After all, America is the original land of the self-made, with its original European settlers arriving to do just that. Religion in America tended in two directions—toward hellfire and brimstone on the one hand and the Unitarian vision of doing away with the uncomfortable negatives on the other. New, progressive ideas about the human spirit evolved. Henry Adams felt, during the Gilded Age of the late 1800s, that religion was disappearing. The popularity of science and materialism grew. (While Brigham Young was trying to build the kingdom in Utah, the American book market was deluged with how-to books that associated prosperity with self-improvement.) Get-rich schemes abounded.

Trendsetters still came from America’s wealthiest citizens, but Hollywood and capitalism enhanced the image of the “American Dream.” Even through the Great Depression, the dream held. Post-WWII, American society (especially for white people) was all up economically into the 60s. This post-war period was basically a family-oriented, firmly Protestant culture, with extended family members relatively nearby, old-fashioned moral principles upheld by the society at large, general respect for authority, respect for institutions, and a lot of opportunities to join social groups for support and friendship as well as contributing to society. 

The second half of the 1960s exposed cracks in America’s social cohesiveness. Baby boomers coming of age rebelled against war (in Vietnam especially), materialism, and traditional sexual mores. That rebellion continued to burgeon through the following decades. Individualism entrenched itself and amplified along the way, especially as traditional morality faded. 

The invention of the internet exploded Pandora’s box. “In this new technological landscape … custom, place, parents would soon become irrelevant.” The person who seeks to self-create searches online to find compatible self-creators. Teens and adults aspire to be “influencers” in their groups. Because everyone is “self-making,” and respect for self-making has become the end-all, be-all moral high ground, other types of morality have slipped away. These ideas and current realities are fully drawn out in Burton’s book about self-worship.

The Self as God

Strange Rites: New Religions for a Godless World investigates the current landscape of America, the land of the self-made. America is trending toward “a religion of emotive intuition, of aestheticized and commodified experience, of self-creation, and self-improvement … decoupled from institutions, from creeds, from metaphysical truth-claims about God or the universe, or the Way Things Are, but that still seeks—in various and varying ways—to provide us with the pillars of what religion always has: meaning, purpose, community, ritual.”

Burton counsels us to avoid calling sections of the non-religion-following American public “Nones.” Instead, she labels them the “Remixed.” They pick and choose from all sorts of religious ideas and social identifiers according to what most resonates with their desires and fancies. They replace “institutionalism” with “intuitionalism.” The “Remixed reject authority, institution, creed, and moral universalism. They value intuition, personal feelings, and experiences. They demand to rewrite their own scripts about how the universe and human beings operate.” Many of the philosophies and practices of the remixed seem anti-religion, yet they somehow yield religious experiences for these Americans. They now constitute the largest religious demographic in the U.S.

Burton identifies some major groups and ideas that are replacing religion:

• The social justice movement (including Critical Race Theory, feminism, and Marxist philosophies)
• Far-right nationalism (including Incels, the exalting of “toxic masculinity”). This movement is nihilistic and apocalyptic in some ways.
• Wellness culture
• LGBTQIA
• Modern occultism (including paganism, witchcraft, Wicca)
• Techno-utopianism of Silicon Valley (expecting the singularity when human beings and technology merge)
• The Prosperity gospel
• Fandom (sports, fantasy fiction and movies, celebrities, gaming)
• Kink

Kink! Really? Yes. Kink introduces such wild sexual practices that one must learn to surrender completely to participate fully. Practitioners say this surrender is transcendentally spiritual. Note that all of these remixed lifestyles are sexually amoral. In Silicon Valley, polyamory is all the rage. Polls say that most younger people in the US are open to that lifestyle. In modern America, sex is transactional, and sexuality is whatever you say it is. In other words, just like everything else, we now have an intuitive approach to sex and sexuality. Sadly, a disregard for sexual mores yields fewer cohesive families, more confusion, a declining population, and more disease. 

Meanwhile, self-makers valorize and sacralize their unique experiences. Yet, in these new religions, we never acquire perfection and blame ourselves for our failures. Anxiety and depression continue to affect more and more people even as they focus more on themselves.

The Remixed use call-out culture to provide the intimation of high moral ground. While people become more true to themselves, controversy and conflict rise to a fever pitch. “… a religion of the self … risks creating an increasingly balkanized American culture: one in which our desire for personal authenticity and experiential fulfillment takes precedence over our willingness to build coherent ideological systems and functional, sustainable institutions.” 

We Have Been Warned

I found Burton’s book “Self-Made” enlightening and “Strange Rites” frightening. The prophets knew this was coming. Several scriptures warn us of these things.

“… Notwithstanding they believed in a Great Spirit, they supposed that whatsoever they did was right …” (Alma 18:5).

“This know also, that in the last days, perilous times shall come. For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, without natural affection, trucebreakers, false accusers, incontinent, fierce, despisers of those that are good, traitors, heady, highminded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God; having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof … ever learning, and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth” (2 Timothy 2:1 – 5, 7).

“… go no more after the lusts of your eyes, but cross yourself in all these things; for except ye do this ye can in nowise inherit the kingdom of God” (Alma 39:9:).

“They seek not the Lord to establish his righteousness, but every man walketh in his own way, and after the image of his own god, whose image is in the likeness of the world, and whose substance is that of an idol, which waxeth old and shall perish in Babylon, even Babylon the great, which shall fall” (D&C 1:16).

And finally, a quote from Dennis F. Kinlaw:

“Satan disguises submission to himself under the ruse of personal autonomy. He never asks us to become his servants. … The shift in commitment is never Christ to evil; it is always from Christ to self. And instead of His will, self-interest now rules, and what I want reigns. And that is the essence of sin.”

The post Gods of Our Own Making: The Religion of Today appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

Yet months later, I realized the toll on my mental health—frequent panic attacks, avoidance of simple tasks, and a severely shrinking ability to navigate the world. My mind had taken a snapshot of the worst thing it had endured, and now anything remotely resembling that was labeled a potential threat to my life. I had no control over when it would flip the switch into debilitating fear and avoidance.

In accepting my PTSD, I made a melancholy list of things I could no longer do, like go to movie theaters, medical/ dental visits, drive in heavy traffic, travel to dream destinations, take plane rides or field trips, visit sacred spaces, and sleep away from home. The list of my hopeful “someday” dreams transformed into a soul-draining reminder of things I’d never be capable of achieving now.

 Seven years later, I was faced with another series of medical traumas as a massive aneurysm was discovered between my aorta and my spleen.

However, between these two major life events, a significant transformation gradually unfolded. I immersed myself in the literature on PTSD and TV shows involving real-life therapists utilizing exposure therapy for OCD. Determined to try this exposure idea, I scheduled a crucial dental appointment for a sore tooth, but it proved challenging. With the help of medication, I managed the procedure. Eventually, I opted for a different dentist, a friend, who unknowingly imparted a profound truth—sometimes, one positive experience can alter our perspective. His office, equipped with TVs during dental work, became a game-changer.

Despite setbacks, I slowly regained this one space of lost ground. Bit by bit, I began to employ more of these tactics. Venturing to board a plane for a short one-hour flight, a panic attack ensued, but employing grounding techniques and distractions, I made it through. Stepping off the plane at my destination was this joyful achievement—a gate in my mind that I felt was shut forever was unlocked and reopened. I even utilized some Buddhist ideas in accepting the panic and consoling myself with “it will pass,” which allowed me to persevere. I read about cognitive behavioral therapy techniques. Over seven years, I diligently adopted strategies, rebuilding hope that I could reclaim some small ability to engage in various tasks and activities. When some attempts initially failed, I kept on trying again.

Addressing my spiritual fears, I delved into theodicy, the exploration of how a benevolent God could create a world where evil and suffering exist. Over time, I came to perceive the world as a system intentionally designed with imperfections and woundedness as the means through which we can experience growth, similar to a vaccine introducing dangerous pathogens that are inactive. The peril must be confronted and managed, yet it remains inherently temporary, just as our physical suffering is not eternal. God waits for us to turn to Him in our suffering so He can uplift us through His many positive reassurances which equip us, strengthening our endurance.

Despite lingering PTSD symptoms, I now embrace an emerging concept known as PTG or Post Traumatic Growth. I do not believe it is in any way a cure for PTSD, but rather, it’s a transformational hope that your world doesn’t have to shrink forever—that you can find ways to accomplish tasks and goals even if they will never be exactly like they were before. 

In the New York Times Best Seller, The Coddling of The American Mind, authors Greg Lukianoff and Johnathan Haidt explain,

“Research on post-traumatic growth shows that most people report becoming stronger or better in some way after suffering through a traumatic experience. That doesn’t mean we should stop protecting young people from potential trauma, but it does mean that the culture of safetyism is based on a fundamental misunderstanding of human nature and of the dynamics of trauma and recovery. It is vital that people who have survived violence become habituated to ordinary cues and reminders woven into the fabric of daily life. Avoiding triggers is a symptom of PTSD, not a treatment for it. According to Richard McNally, the director of clinical training in Harvard’s Department of Psychology, Trigger warnings are counter-therapeutic because they encourage avoidance of reminders of trauma, and avoidance maintains PTSD.”

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy includes a step-by-step, systematic exposure to traumatic memories, with the aim of reducing their capacity to induce distress over time. Although I didn’t receive this treatment directly from a therapist’s guidance, I meticulously adhered to its principles by studying numerous articles and books on the subject and by having my sister, Bonnie, talk me through her own experiences. The result in my life has been incredibly life-changing.

Jennifer emphasized the importance of fostering a mindset that embraces recovery and growth. She believes that everyone deserves to hear that their journey toward well-being is not only valid but also achievable. While the journey toward healing and personal growth is possible, having a therapist by your side can be instrumental in navigating the complexities of the process. A therapist serves as a supportive guide, offering a safe space for individuals to explore and understand their thoughts, emotions, and behaviors. Jennifer pointed out that the external perspective provided by a therapist can shed light on patterns and beliefs that may be hindering progress.

In an article by APA, we learn five important signs that signal to us that PTG is occurring:

• Appreciation of life 
• Relationships with others 
• New possibilities in life
• Personal strength
• Spiritual change

It was equally intriguing to find that women with an innate optimistic perspective, combined with extroverted social inclinations, seemed to have a natural inclination toward post-traumatic growth. This alignment may clarify why I found PTG relatively accessible, given that I precisely fit this profile. Fortunately, not fitting this predisposition doesn’t render PTG unattainable. There could be an unexplored predisposition that witnessing someone else’s PTG may make one’s journey toward PTG more attainable.

For example, It wasn’t apparent to me until attempting to write this article, but I did have the advantage of observing my grandfather, Wesley Colvin, recover some of his abilities after enduring severe wounds and PTSD in WWII. My grandmother recounted his struggles with nightmares, seeing unimaginable things like the haunting memory of a mortar shell exploding and removing part of his skull. A titanium plate was placed to cover the missing portion of his head, and although he faced a lifelong battle with balance, he became my initial inspiration that life after PTSD was achievable. He never allowed anything to hinder him, continuing to repair cars and attend every concert or sports event I participated in. He was often triggered by the smell of gunpowder. Eventually, Wesley pushed himself to go back to the range and face the things that were hindering his normal activity in life, slowly gaining power over the things that once stirred anxiety. He was my first proof that successfully navigating around PTSD challenges was possible. My sister Bonnie was equally inspiring, showing me what she learned through a harrowing postpartum acute mental health crisis and generalized anxiety diagnosis.

It’s crucial to note that while post-traumatic growth explains personal development and optimal positive change following intense adversity, it is not universally attainable. It’s important to recognize that individuals with brain injuries, preexisting mental disorders, or diminished cognitive capacities may face unique challenges in their ability to experience such growth. For these individuals, the focus often shifts towards managing and adapting to their conditions rather than experiencing growth in the traditional sense. Their journey may involve different forms of resilience and coping, emphasizing the importance of understanding and supporting their specific needs and limitations.

Thirteen years have elapsed since my challenging encounter with a brain tumor. Recently, while dining with friends in a crowded, noisy restaurant, I found myself in the grip of a panic attack. In that intense moment, I coached myself internally, “You know the drill—your instinct is to bolt, but if you stay, it will pass, and you’ll enjoy a fantastic time.” Implementing grounding distraction techniques, I weathered the storm, and after about three minutes, the panic receded. To my surprise, I not only stayed but also relished the best evening. It’s a feat I never imagined achieving, underscoring the profound value of conquering small, incremental battles on the path to personal growth over time.

 Hope exists, and that belief is genuinely empowering.

The post Post Traumatic Hope: A Journey From Trauma to Transcendence appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

Inspired sources offer us important insights into the question of who is Jesus. And I am encouraged by this sentiment shared by Brigham Young, an early prophet of the Church of Jesus Christ, who said, “The revelations of the Lord to His creatures are adapted to the lowest capacity, and they bring life and salvation to all who are willing to receive them.” So, through the lens of simplicity, as I approach this beautiful Christ-filled season, I offer some attributes of Christ’s character that I believe are notable at this time.

We know something of this nature because we are created in His and the Father’s image. Of this truth, Thomas S. Monson, a recent church President, said: “God our Father has ears with which to hear our prayers. He has eyes with which to see our actions. He has a mouth with which to speak to us. He has a heart with which to feel compassion and love. He is real. He is living. We are His children made in His image. We look like Him, and He looks like us.”

In answering who is Jesus, Latter-day Saints place special importance on the embodiment of Christ, believing this to be an eternal trait. Other Christian thinkers understand the importance of Jesus’ bodily existence as well. Thomas Aquinas wrote, “When one earnestly and devoutly weighs the mysteries of the Incarnation, one will find so great a depth of wisdom that it exceeds human knowledge.” His argument is that Christ having a body unites us together in a way we could not be otherwise. He goes on to say that we could never understand “that God becomes man, and that man becomes God and a sharer in the divine nature. But he has done this in us by His power, and it was accomplished in the Incarnation of His Son.” It is perhaps no mistake that the two holiest days of the Christian calendar are when Jesus receives a body.

I recently laid to rest my father-in-law. The day and those leading up to it were filled with testimony and tender mercies. One of his daughters had also recently lost her husband and shared this sentiment, “We can never really say that nobody understands. Even if those closest to us don’t ‘get it,’ Jesus Christ does because He lived it when He bore it for us.” The Lord will be a “refuge for the oppressed” and comfort in times of trouble. 

John MacArthur, a popular radio personality and pastor made this observation, “Even Jesus’ most scathing denunciation—a blistering diatribe against the religious leaders of Jerusalem in Matthew 23—ends with Christ weeping over Jerusalem. Compassion colored everything He did.

This aspect of our relationship with Christ comes from His character, which is filled with compassion, mercy, understanding, and sincere invitation.

During the most extreme moment of suffering, Jesus conscientiously and exactingly carries out the will of the Father. This divine submission is a demonstration of perfect unity and purpose within the Godhead. As we ponder on this aspect of His character, we are invited to align our will with His, recognizing that true discipleship involves yielding our desires to the divine purpose. In my youth and in my naturally rebellious state still, it seems a difficult concept to grasp, but Christ tells us simply and succinctly, “If ye love me, keep my commandments.”

The influential literacy advocate and Congregationalist teacher Frank Laubach noted that in his gospel, John indicates Jesus was acting “under God’s orders” on forty-seven occasions, such as “The Son can do nothing of Himself, but what He seeth the Father do.”

Christ’s character exemplifies obedience, submission, unity, and purpose.

While serving as the President of BYU-Idaho, David A. Bednar, now an apostle of the Church of Jesus Christ gave remarks titled, “The Character of Christ.” Bednar emphasizes a central aspect of Christ’s character. He notes, “Throughout His mortal ministry, and especially during the events leading up to and including the atoning sacrifice, the Savior of the world turned outward—when the natural man or woman in any of us would have been self-centered and focused inward.” This outward focus, even in the face of unimaginable trials, speaks volumes about Christ’s selflessness and love for each of us.

I’ve seen this kind of outward focus, but I remember one time in particular. I was visiting my mom and dad’s home in the neighborhood I was raised in. One of our neighbors, a good sister I’d known since I was probably about 7 or 8 years old, arrived at our door with a Christmas treat, a pan full of the most amazing rolls. I was shocked when I saw her. She had just recently lost her daughter, our sweet friend Anne, in a car accident. I wondered how she was even standing, much less with an offering for us. When I fumbled over a mix of gratitude and condolences, she was gracious and comforting to me. She is such a Christ-like example of selflessness that has remained with me over the years.

Christ’s character is the definitive model of sacrifice and selflessness.

When the children of Israel had left Egypt but proved Egypt had not left them, God’s first commandment to them, remains for us, “Thou shalt have no other gods before me.”

In the Living Christ, His divine character is explained. He is “the immortal Son of God. He is the great King Immanuel, who stands today on the right hand of His Father. He is the light, the life, and the hope of the world.”

What a grand description. As we celebrate Jesus Christ’s birth during this Christmas season, I pray that we learn of Him—that rather than shape His likeness into ours, we will invite Him to shape us into His.

The post Jesus Is More Than a Caricature appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

While ours is far from the first generation that has spoken often of revolution, calls for revolution have become part of the casual person-to-person discourse among today’s 20 and 30-somethings. 

What kind of revolution? That depends on who you ask and what their particular cause is. Such grandiose visions of always dramatic, sometimes violent overthrow often center around political complaints that seem so complex and tangled that the normal means or processes of social change are insufficient.

However uncertain those details are, there is one thing that does seem clear to me—a common premise about how to create social change I hear and see over and over. 

My peers often seem to take for granted that what keeps them from happiness is some sort of juggernaut—a great force that requires tremendous effort and coordination to overthrow. By necessity, this calls for a heroic effort—an earth-shaking endeavor required to right the cosmic injustices plaguing so many of us. 

This might not be surprising given this generation’s cultural context. My generation and the one to follow has grown up on fantasy. Which is not a bad thing. I’ve happily consumed all of the same beloved media of the past couple of decades. Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, and, let’s not forget the unending factory line of superhero movies. 

With this as our constant socialization, is it any wonder that young people are so keen on mighty and elaborate means to achieve their conceptual views on social change, happiness, and problem-solving?

This was my impression as well, as an agnostic turned newly baptized member of the Church of Jesus Christ two years ago. In my secular past, I believed happiness came from a life of adventure and triumph. In my early investigative period, I came close to concluding that God’s power blessed us in some magical way with enduring joy. (While yes, God intends for us to find happiness, the path may not be what my generation expects.)

We don’t need to command an army at the head of a revolution, but we can look to the story of an army commander to learn a lesson of incredible value. Naaman, whose story is found in the fifth chapter of 2nd Kings, was a Syrian general noted for his valor—although also suffering from leprosy. 

This vicious disease was his hindrance—the personal obstacle that kept happiness out of reach. Given his station, however, he was in a place to do something about it. With a letter from his king, troves of treasure, and ten changes of raiment, the commander traveled to Israel after a servant of his wife explained that the Prophet could make him whole.

Here, we see Naaman making the same inference as many of my peers. Happiness lies on the other side of a glorious quest. So Naaman came with his horses and chariot and stood mightily outside the door of Elisha’s house. 

What happened next, this great leader of men could not have expected. He was met not by the messenger of God but by a servant of the prophet. Relaying the instructions of his master, the holy man’s aid explained that Naaman must simply wash in the Jordan River seven times to be made clean. 

That was it. One might expect some kind of relief in a man just told a remedy was in reach. But grand Naaman was wroth—this is not how his epic healing adventure was supposed to conclude. Not only had a climatic miracle at the hands of Elisha not been delivered, but he felt insulted that the magnificent waters of Syria were overlooked in favor of some backwater Israeli river. 

This, after traveling all that way, with all that treasure, with all his might. In a rage, as the scripture says, Naaman was ready to dispense of the whole matter and return to his home, the problem unsolved and his misery prolonged.

But his own servants proved to be wise counsel. “My father, if the prophet had bid thee do some great thing, wouldst thou not have done it? How much rather then, when he saith to thee, Wash, and be clean?” 

Naaman sees truth in these humble words and does as he is advised. His illness is washed away.

Could this advice from the mouth of servants help our own revolutionary tendencies today? If generations Y and Z are so willing to do some great thing to be freed from unhappiness, why not something simple?

Such is our modern-day dip in the Jordan. Not turning aside from the simple lessons emphasized so often over the pulpit. When complaining about repetition, asking for more depth, or seeking more spiritual meat, we must ask ourselves if we are acting as Naaman had. 

Any of us can understand the hesitance to suggestions like this that can seem “beneath” the excited urgency of our day. Like Naaman, our egos may lead us to think, “It can’t be that simple. My problems are greater. I have traveled so far with horses, chariots, gold, and raiment. I require something else, something more.” 

Something more than the living God? Think again. He is enough. Give Him at least a chance. 

Experiment on the word. Consistently apply the advice of the Lord’s servants. As the army commander dipped seven times to cleanse his leprosy, practice repentance, prayer, and scripture study for seven days. You will see a difference; you might even see yourself healed. Your unhappiness will erode, and your entitlement washed down the river until you, too, are clean.

The post Rebel Without a Clue: Modern Rhetoric vs. Current Realities appeared first on Public Square Magazine.

We may not want to admit it, but many of us are like this fat gray cat. We don’t do harm; we don’t do much good—we get by.  

I recently listened to an interesting YouTube video where the presenter asked, “Do we live in a pathologically mediocre society where people are thin and flimsy, aggregates of human qualities rather than actual human beings?”  He went on to make his case that most of us are mediocre. He quoted Kierkegaard, who said, “Let others complain that the age is wicked; my complaint is that it is wretched; for it lacks passion.”  

I think he is right. Occasionally I will meet someone who is truly Alive—it is rare enough to make an impression. But otherwise, we seem mostly to be getting by like this fat gray cat. We move about, we seem occupied, but underlying boredom and apathy haunt our busyness.

Why are we mediocre?

G.K. Chesterton would argue that the cause of our wretchedness is a lack of wonder: “The world will never starve for want of wonders; but only for want of wonder.”

At the beginning of the story, he holds a pistol to the head of Professor Eames, a man famous for his lectures on pessimism. His ideology sees pessimism as the one true philosophy—life is not worth living. However, the shock of being nearly murdered by Innocent Smith forces Professor Eames to realize that life is, in fact, precious. He wakes up to Life and discards his cynicism. 

Innocent Smith finds that to stay “Alive,” he must continually re-enchant his life with wonder. He wanders the world so he may return to his home with a rekindled appreciation. He has affairs with numerous women who all turn out to be his own wife. He breaks into his own home like a robber so he can view his possessions with envy. His behavior is disconcerting to most people who encounter him. However, others, in seeing his vitality and joy, awaken to the mediocrity and ingratitude of their lives.

When accused of insanity because of his continual breach of norms, Innocent Smith corrects our notion of madness, “Madness does not come by breaking out, but by giving in; by settling down in some dirty, little, self-repeating circle of ideas; by being tamed.”

Professor Eames encourages him to keep his gun and use it to awaken others from their self-deceit and mediocrity. Smith declares, “I am going to hold a pistol to the head of the Modern Man. But I shall not use it to kill him—only to bring him to life.”

Be a Holy Fool

Manalive follows the theme of many works of great literature, which depict a character, a holy fool or unlikely hero, who seems slow, idealistic, silly, or backward to others—yet who we discover is the one character who truly sees the world as it should be seen. Some books with this holy fool include—Alyosha in The Brothers Karamazov, Diamond in At the Back of the North Wind, Don Quixote, Pollyanna, and Despereaux in The Tale of Despereaux.

We are commanded to become like little children, and children are “holy fools.” They stare in wonder at the caterpillar crossing the road. They are enchanted by a snowstorm. They beg to push the button on the elevator. They will trade all their savings for one gummy bear.

“What was wonderful about childhood is that anything in it was a wonder. It was not merely a world full of miracles; it was a miraculous world.”  ~G.K. Chesterton

My youngest daughter, 6, is one of the most dramatic people I know. She bounces between extreme excitement and boiling anger. I am the “best mother in the entire world,” or I have “never done anything nice for her, EVER!” I have had many discussions with her about showing proper respect and controlling her emotions—but at the same time, I am glad she is passionate. I never want my teaching on manners and self-control to stamp out her wild and wondrous nature. 

Our modern pharmaceutical mindset would cause many to want to “cure” the bipolar tendencies of such a changing nature. If Mozart, Van Gogh, Tesla, Poe, and Newton were born today, they would likely be medicated out of their eccentricities, as well as their geniuses. Truth, goodness, and beauty are not tame and controllable; they are wild and free. Often I find myself in a room of adults and discover that everyone seems bored—we are “all politeness” and no excitement—we have been tamed. 

Robert Boyle, the Father of modern Chemistry, explains that in childhood, we can see most clearly, that we are our most true selves. We are not yet bored by the miracle of everyday living. He writes: 

We must try to recover the candour and wonder of the child—the unspoilt realism and objectivity of innocence. Or if we cannot do that, we must try at least to shake off the cloud of mere custom and see the thing as new, if only by seeing it as unnatural. Things that may well be familiar so long as familiarity breeds affection had much better become unfamiliar when familiarity breeds contempt. We must invoke the most wild and soaring sort of imagination—the imagination that can see what is there.

Awake

In the Bible, many scriptures begin with the plea to Awake! God seems to be pleading with us like our 1st-period high school teacher would—care, act, see, listen!

Thessalonians 4:6 says, “So then let us not sleep, as others do, but let us keep awake.”

Sleep is a coping mechanism. We have all awoken to a gloomy, rainy day, pulled the sheets over our heads, and gone back to sleep. Childhood trauma, unresolved grief, and chronic adversity can cause us to determine that to live, and to feel, will only lead to more suffering. When we live in fear of pain and loss, we may go out into this gloomy life, but we won’t risk being hurt as we once were. So we push down our vitality, our passion, our wonder—we get by. 

Years ago, I became acquainted with a young mother who, because of trauma from her childhood, had decided that caring about things had led to too much suffering. I could never get her engaged in more than shallow conversations; she would never show joy or sorrow. Her children were similar to their mother, as is often the case. She had wrapped her broken heart in a blanket of apathy. She did not feel the pain of disappointment and sorrow, but her range of emotion had narrowed so that love and joy also eluded her. 

Thankfully she began speaking to a trusted friend who helped her see the importance of letting herself feel what needs to be felt and finding herself protected in the arms of her Heavenly Father. She summoned the one virtue that can most aid us in this awakening—in pushing the covers off and waking up—Courage. She changed. She let herself become vulnerable. Her children begin to feel the vitality of their mother’s unmuted love. Pain came, and then it went—for she now knew her God. 

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give it to no one … But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”  ~C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

Rejoice

Our brains are wired to see the negative before the positive. This is a protective mechanism—our brains want us to notice the snake and not be distracted by the beautiful roses. That’s good because we want to avoid snakes, but we need to rise above it. We need to allow our souls, who still recognize the safe arms of God, to override our brain’s negative tilt. We need to willfully smell the roses. We need to overemphasize the good to compensate. Healthy cultures and people dance, they have feasts, they have days of celebration, they worship—and they are enlivened and ready to face the rain and gloom.

Life is for rejoicing, for action, for victory—with a good mix of suffering thrown in to keep us grateful for the joyful interludes. We live in a universe full of wonders. 

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,

     Life is but an empty dream!—

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

     And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

     And the grave is not its goal;

Dust thou art, to dust returnest,

     Was not spoken of the soul.

~Excerpt from Psalm of Life, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

To avoid becoming a mediocre, dreary, predictable, “tame” person, we must shake off the dust of our own numbing ingratitude and truly appreciate the everyday wonders before us. The love of a spouse is a miracle. The song of a bird is a miracle. The taste of a mango is a miracle.

“The whole order of things is as outrageous as any miracle which could presume to violate it.”  ~G.K. Chesterton

If we succeed in truly Living, we will likely seem strange to those around us, as the holy fools in literature are strange to all but the most humble. “Living” men and women change the way they view the world. They reject the drudgery of materialism. They believe in things that others have grown cynical about, such as love, sacrifice, and faith. They fight and forgive. They glory and praise.

Living Below Our Birthright

We are meant to be Awake and Alive, even if everyone else is dull and asleep. Kierkegaard continues his commentary on the passionless ordinary man to point out that we are living far below our potential: 

Men’s thoughts are thin and flimsy like lace … The thoughts of their hearts are too paltry to be sinful. For a worm, it might be regarded as a sin to harbor such thoughts, but not for a being made in the image of God.

Christ would compare our propensity to mediocrity to the temperature of lukewarm water. He Himself suggests it is better to run hot, for at least then you have actively chosen your fate. The passionately-wrong are, if they are open, more easily turned in the opposite direction. A speeding vehicle can easily do a donut and face the other way. A slow and steady truck—weighed down by habit and custom—is much more difficult to shift. Saul became Paul in an instant as he rushed to imprison Christians in Damascus. The more measured and compromising Sadducees were witnesses to miracles, yet their weight of tradition, pride, and prejudice made them unchangeable. 

We are beings of eternal destiny. What a tragedy it is to be a fat gray cat in human form. 

C.S. Lewis gave us a glimpse of what we may be in his famous quote from The Weight of Glory: 

It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest, most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. 

How do we develop and become this goddess? How can we reignite this wonder? That fat gray cat is a product of his environment and has been trained to be mediocre, and mediocre he will stay—he can’t grow back his claws, he can’t regain his killer instinct. But we retain a wild and free will, buried and dusty though it may be. We can shake off the dust. We can discover again the wildness of life and allow it to flow through our lives. As we begin to recognize our need for wonder and gratitude and the need to recognize miracles and be a miracle in the lives of others—we can learn to LIVE AGAIN.

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