Testimony tips

Man, do I love the Book of Mormon.

I have for some time. It is a key element of my testimony of the restored gospel and my understanding of my relationship to my Father in Heaven and to my Redeemer.

As I contemplate teaching seminary this year, I’ve been preparing lessons in advance of our actual start of classes next week. (My goal is to have four weeks of lessons “in the can” – if I can get two and a half more lessons done this weekend, I’ll meet that goal; then I can figure out how to continue to prepare lessons in advance while reviewing lessons just prior to giving them. I feel like I’m on a bit of a tightrope at this point.)

As I’ve reviewed the vision of the Tree of Life, I realize that in a few chapters, we get the basics three times. On my mission, I heard Elder Theodore M. Burton teach us that we should pay attention when the Lord repeats himself in the scriptures, and here I find in the first 15 chapters of the Book of Mormon, three recitations of the Tree of Life vision. (Oh, and repetitions of the vision of the Savior’s role as Redeemer, too!)

It occurs to me that there are plenty of repeat messages in 1 Nephi. Not only do we learn of those visions and of the Savior’s role in God’s plan (and our eternal happiness), but we also have repeated models of how to gain a testimony, or at least of how Nephi gained his. We’re reminded more than once of the value of approaching gospel learning with an open mind and an open heart – a desire to believe. We’re reminded of the Lord’s willingness to answer our prayers (and His disappointment when we believe He won’t answer us). And we’re reminded of the consistency of His message to prophets. Some details might shift slightly (like Nephi’s noticing the filthiness of water that Lehi didn’t pick up), but major story arcs (like the importance of the fruit of the tree) do not change.

As I think about my role as a seminary teacher, I understand that I’m there to open the scriptures to my students and to invite them to feel the spirit as they discover what the scriptures teach about the Savior. I need to get out of the way and allow the scriptures and the spirit to do the teaching and converting. I need to invite, encourage, entice.

The stakes are high for seminary teachers. Lots of studies show that seminary teachers have the opportunity to have significant influence on our youth, and it’s no surprise. Seminary teachers get 50 minutes a day, five days a week, with regular attenders. It would be easy to use that time as a platform to promote my views, or even to set myself up as some great guy. But the last thing I need is to generate a group of Paul-ites. Hopefully what I can do is to offer my students a place where they can safely explore spiritual questions and seek spiritual answers. Hopefully I can help them to feel safe enough to trust what the spirit whispers to their minds and hearts.

In our recent seminary fireside, I mentioned to the students and their parents that as seminary teachers we can offer activities. We can entertain them. We can review scripture mastery verses and play games. But they need to actually read the book. They need to seek the testimony. And if they’re willing to do that, the rewards can be great.

I don’t think I’ll spend my whole year blogging about seminary. But I might share a little from time to time. In the meantime, I extend the same invitation to you: if you read the book, if you open your heart and your mind, if you ask, the Lord can provide you the same great blessings He promises my seminary students.

Spiritual Sudoku

I recently worked my first Sudoku puzzle. If you’re not familiar, Sudoku puzzles have nine rows of nine digits each, organized into nine 3 x 3 squares. Each digit from 1-9 appears in each row, each column and each 3x3 square only once. The puzzle gives you a certain number of “known” digits to start, and you fill in the rest, using the given digits and subsequent “found” digits to determine placement of the remaining digits until the puzzle is complete.

(For a simple puzzle or two, you can go to lots of websites, including here.)

My first puzzle was very painful. It took me lots of trial and error to finally arrive at the correct solution. After some time, however, I’ve learned to look at the puzzles somewhat differently. I’m getting better at seeing the relationship of rows and columns and squares, and looking at all three simultaneously to discover which digit is missing from a particular sequence.

Of course the first puzzles are easier to solve. They have more digits given at the outset, so it’s a little easier to figure out what digits are missing and where they should fit. The harder puzzles have fewer digits, require closer observation and reasoning. Some of the puzzles I’ve done by making an educated guess and trying out a theory to see if it works, and when it fails I’ve had to unravel what I’ve done and try again.

Just like life.

In the early days of my testimony, I was concentrated on one row or one column, finding digits to fill in gaps and feeling pretty good about my progress. As I’ve matured spiritually and intellectually, I’ve come to see nuances I did not notice before. I don’t fault others for my lack of nuance. It wasn’t that I wasn’t taught about four first vision accounts, but that I first had to wrestle with the concept of the first vision before I could worry about different accounts. It wasn’t a question of peep stones in a hat versus “reading” the plates, but first the whole idea of divine “translation” regardless of the method.

As I have grown up in my spiritual understanding, I’ve also gotten a different sense over time about the relative importance of details compared with story arcs. When I concentrated on just one line or column, getting the right digit was easy, but it was also more important. When I’m looking at the whole puzzle, it’s more like fitting a piece of the jigsaw puzzle. Yes, the detail (the digit) is important, but what really matters is how the whole puzzle looks, not just one row or column. In my testimony, a particular fact or detail is still important, but as a part of a whole.

As a result, I can view a volume of scripture like the Book of Mormon in a variety of ways. First and foremost it is what it says it is: a testimony of Jesus Christ. (Even before we printed that on the cover it was clear from the title page and from most of 1 Nephi that’s what it was.) It’s no surprise to me that the record begins with a spiritual account rather than a historical one. (Never mind what Mormon’s plates did; I can only examine what I have in the final product.) The spiritual witness trumps the historicity of the book. (I don’t doubt the historicity, by the way; I do not read the book as totally allegorical, but I also am less concerned with examing finer points of geography and history and comparing them to the archeological record.)

Another thing that is true for me about the Sudoku puzzles is that I can look at the same collection of digits and see different things at different times. In one review, I can’t figure out how to put the digits together, and the next time I work my way through the puzzle I suddenly see something I hadn’t before, and the next part of the solution appears. That’s true for my testimony, as well.

I’ve had significant moments in my development of testimony where items I’ve held on the shelf for years have suddenly found resolution. Sometimes it’s because of new information that I learn, or a new way of looking at old information. Other times it’s simply (like it’s really simple!) a spiritual confirmation that I had previously lacked. For me it often comes when I am not looking for it, but always when I am looking. That is, often long-awaited answers come in the normal course of my spiritual development, while I’m on the path, trying to move closer to my Father in Heaven. I don’t remember their ever coming when I’ve been defiant or angry or out to prove someone wrong.

I’ve written before that I’m on a faith journey, and it is far from over. I am not one of those who will lightly say that all is well. As good as things are (and many, many things in my spiritual life are very good), all is not well. I have plenty of concerns for myself and for people I love. I still have plenty of unanswered questions. Some, I suspect, will not be answered until I get to attend Advance Gospel Principles in the next life. Some will undoubtedly be resolved in my normal course of study and prayer. But the presence of questions does not prevent my moving forward along my path, mostly because I remember the tender mercies of the past; I remember answers I have received, some dramatic and some not so much, but answers all the same.

Testimony and Faith Journeys

As I think about my membership in the LDS church (nearly 37 years now), I realize that I have been on quite a path. Although there are times when I have felt completely secure in my relationship with God and in my trust in my church, I also realize that there are times when I have felt far more vulnerable than I would have liked.


I reflect on this subject this week because of the NYT article making the rounds.  I should point out that there are some excellent responses to this article, including this one at BCC  and this one at BYU Studies.

What occurred to me, however, is that just like Brother Mattsson, featured in the NTY article, each of us is on a faith journey. (The idea isn’t completely my own. I was spurred to this thought by this article written by a friend some time ago and shared with me this week.)

In some ways it is appropriate that I ponder my faith journey during the same week we celebrate a journey of another sort by Mormon pioneers who made their way to the Intermountain West where they could (for a time at least) be free of the persecution they had known in Kirtland, Missouri and Nauvoo. The pioneers, of course, traveled a path of physical, emotional and (I imagine, at least) spiritual hardship, as they physically tested their commitment to the gospel and the prophet Brigham. Their sacrifice was tangible and in many cases terrible, leaving possessions, family members either behind or along the way. Families were separated by circumstance, by service in the Mormon Battalion and in some cases by death.

I am a convert to the church; although I have American pioneers in my heritage, I do not have Mormon pioneers. My pioneer ancestors went to the Pacific Northwest primarily for economic reasons, and while they worked hard to go, they did not suffer the persecution of the Mormon pioneers. My wife’s ancestors, on the other hand, included Mormon pioneers, some of whom suffered greatly in their journey. My wife reflected early in our marriage that she did not think she could have endured the trials of her Mormon pioneer ancestors.

Harold B. Lee is often quoted as saying that in our day we will likely face different tests of our faith from those of the pioneers. While they faced physical challenges, we will face challenges of sophistication. In addition to challenges of sophistication (and some may include the issues highlighted in the NYT article in that mix), I think we have other trials of our faith that may well be common to other generations. That has certainly been my experience.

My challenges of sophistication – that is a scholarly set of questions that I had not encountered in seminary and Sunday School – came early in my career at BYU, when I had a roommate who invited me to address a series of questions he’d learned from his father who was in the process of leaving the church. That experience was critical in my development of a stronger testimony of the gospel. During that year I learned how I could approach questions of our history (and I enjoyed the resources of BYU’s library and one particularly helpful faculty member to do it; I don’t know how I could have done that far from BYU in the pre-internet age). And I had a number of other spiritual experiences unrelated to those questions that reinforced the testimony I brought with me to BYU. That combination helped me through a period that could otherwise have significantly challenged my faith. I learned not only answers to many questions, but also HOW to answer questions in the future (and how to wait when answers were not immediately available).

But those are not the only challenges to my faith. Part of my faith journey includes other trials of faith that come up in everyone’s life: sought-after blessings that may have been slow to appear, children who chose different paths and so on. Life is simply not easy. When what we perceive to be righteous desires are slow to be realized, it can challenge us – at least it has challenged me. Knowing that no success can compensate for failure in the home gives me pause when I know that my home is not perfect. Learning to pray to understand God’s will rather than to present Him a list of my wishes is a lesson that took me decades to learn. In these trials, I suppose perhaps I have kinship with those Mormon pioneers who may not have consciously signed up for the journey they ultimately took.

I think about testimony meetings, where we’re invited to share briefly what we know or believe and how we’ve come to know it. Of course those testimonies are often point-in-time snapshots along our life’s journey of faith, a journey that is often complex and even uncertain. As for me, I am now experiencing mine one day at a time, grateful for where I am today.

They can't count!

Well, that’s it: the Book of Mormon cannot be true.

My proof: from our family scripture reading this morning:

And thus did the thirty and eighth year pass away, and also the thirty and ninth, and forty and first, and the forty and second, yea, even until forty and nine years had passed away, and also the fifty and first, and the fifty and second; yea, and even until fifty and nine years had passed away.

It’s clear that the Nephites didn’t know how to count! They left out 40 and 50 from their listing of years. Or Joseph Smith didn’t know how to count.

I file this reasoning in with the same reasoning that says the Book of Mormon can’t be true because Alma says Jesus was born in Jerusalem.


When I think about the truth of the Book of Mormon, I reflect on Moroni’s promise, that through the Holy Ghost we can know the truth of these things. The “these things” that Moroni refers to may be his few words of exhortation, though I have assumed them to be the Book of Mormon as presented to us.

In verse 3 he admonishes us to begin by remembering:

Behold, I would exhort you that when ye shall read these things, if it be wisdom in God that ye should read them, that ye would remember how merciful the Lord hath been unto the children of men, from the creation of Adam even down until the time that ye shall receive these things, and ponder it in your hearts (emphasis mine).

Often we talk about Moroni’s promise by focusing on praying and getting that answer, but this idea of remembering the Lord’s mercy toward the children of men is an intergral part to getting that answer. Remember that in the beginning of the record we have, Nephi tells us that the record sets out to show the Lord’s tender mercies:

But behold, I, Nephi, will show unto you that the tender mercies of the Lord are over all those whom he hath chosen, because of their faith, to make them mighty even unto the power of deliverance.

The truth of the Book of Mormon to me is the reality of those tender mercies, the reality of Jesus Christ and His atoning sacrifice. This is not to say that details of the record are not important. The poetry is fascinating. The alternate geographies are interesting to consider. The list of animals is perplexing. But the testimony of Christ is constant, powerful and pervasive.

The spirit which teaches me as I study the Book of Mormon is, I believe, the Holy Ghost which does, as Moroni promises, allow us to know the truth of all things.

BTW: You can read my latest post at Real Intent "Walking the Path to Charity through the Atonement" here.

On the edges of testimony

More than once I’ve made reference to something Theodore M. Burton taught me about testimony. He was the Area Administrator (sort of a pre-cursor to an Area President, I suppose) in Germany while I was on my mission and spoke at a zone conference I attended.

Elder Burton was an awesome teacher, and I would have loved to have been in one of his chemistry classes (despite my ineptitude for the sciences), just to hear him teach.

Here’s what he said about testimony: when our testimony is new and small, it is like a small circle. There is little we know, but there is also only a small border between what we know and what we don’t know. As our testimony grows, the border with the unknown also expands, so that we become more aware of what we do not know. Theoretically what we don’t know actually shrinks a bit as our testimony grows, but our awareness of what we don’t know increases.

I have since that talk been somewhat intrigued by that border.

And that intrigue has a dual impact on me. On the one hand, I peer into the darkness, willing to walk by faith a step at a time to learn more. On the other hand, I’m reminded of that old story told in standards lessons about the drivers applying for a job who are asked how close they can drive to the side of the cliff: the job goes to the one who stays as far away from the edge as possible.

To torture yet another metaphor, is it better to patrol the borders or to retreat to the safety of the center? I think the answer is yes to both. My own fear is that if I sit only in the center, then over time, my testimony in the center is likely to be stronger, but my overall testimony is likely to shrink somewhat. If, however, I spend all my time on the border, I am likely to succumb to fatigue, and I will also likely end up weaker than when I started.

So in my own life, I find myself moving from the center to the border and back again. I do not shy away from questions that are difficult for me. But I also do not demand instant answers to every question. And I find regular opportunities to retreat to the center for spiritual R&R. My retreats to the center often involve reminding myself of what I already know and believe: I visit the temple; I partake of the sacrament; I read favorite scripture stories. My excursions to the border may involve more challenging reading – for me often involving church history, but not always. Sometimes I return to nagging and unanswered questions of doctrine or scriptural interpretation.

I have used this pattern for the three decades since my mission and found it works for me. I’ve had enough successful trips to the edge in which I’ve been able to defend and even expand the border of my testimony. It is sometimes in the discussions that result from those trips – either with trusted friends or family members, or just in my own private pondering – that I find the light that allows me to take a further step.

I have also learned that my border is not the same as someone else’s. I may have more or less tolerance for a trip to the edge than someone else on a given day. And I’ve learned I cannot drag someone along with me. (Well, I suppose I could, but it wouldn’t do them or me any good.) I have grown weary, for instance, of the devil’s advocate approach to High Priest Group lessons in which someone perches on the edge trying to goad the rest of the group to come along for the fun of the ride. (And I’ve consciously tried to avoid taking that approach while teaching for some time.)

But in the spirit of mourning with those that mourn and comforting those who stand in need of comfort, I’ve found that I am surprisingly (to me) resilient even when a companion needs to question his own border crossing, even if I haven’t resolved the matter for myself. For whatever reason, the Lord has granted me the grace to recognize that even if his question is not important to me or not on my radar, it is important to my companion. There was a time when such a situation might have threatened my testimony’s center, but it no longer does.

How do you navigate the edges of your testimony?

BTW, you can find my New Year's post on testimony at Real Intent here.

Elite athletic training and testimony

Anyone who knows me knows that I am not athletic. Never have been and never will be. I do try to watch my weight (I’ve lost 60 pounds between Christmas and the beginning of July, and am very near my “ideal” weight now) and I get cardio exercise six days week. But I am not athletic.

I do, however, appreciate the craft of those who are athletes, especially those who train significantly. And that’s why a lesson a young man in our ward taught in a youth talk a few months ago still rings in my ears.

This young man spoke about testimony. After definitions and a few quotations from For the Strength of Youth and True to the Faith, he said something that really made an impression on me. He said (and I’m paraphrasing):

I participate in an elite soccer league. I train as many as four hours a day to compete. Only by that regular and sustained regimen of training am I able to compete at the level I need to in that league.

We need to dedicate ourselves similarly to gaining a testimony.

That was it. But it is powerful stuff. I tried to think about when I devoted four or more hours a day to the development of my testimony. My mission was probably the only time I came close to that level of intense spiritual training.

Prior to my mission I attended seminary and church most of the time (though I did not graduate from seminary). I was on-again-off-again with scripture reading. By the time I got to BYU I was more serious about scripture study and took good advantage of my Book of Mormon class my freshman year, but still I was not training like my young friend was for soccer.

Since I lost so much weight this year, I weigh myself almost every day. And I still count calories to maintain my present weight. When I find that I’m gaining again, I know I need to make adjustments to my diet and exercise program. By keeping track, I've been able to maintain my new weight for two months and counting.

Spiritually I need to do the same thing. I’m decades away from that pre-mission boy who was not very serious about nurturing his testimony. Fortunately for me, my mission was a significant contributor to a strong testimony of the gospel, and the intervening decades of church service have allowed me to continue to build that testimony through study and experience. But I still need to weigh myself spiritually, to check my commitment to scripture study and prayer, and to continue to live my life in a way that supports my spiritual training program.

A new endowment on the twin-tracked roller coaster of my life

Last weekend was delightful. My daughter was endowed, her next step in preparing to enter the MTC in just about a month.

Last weekend was awful. My 15-year-old son announced (again) that he no longer wants to attend church, that he does not believe.

I remember a year and a half ago when my oldest daughter was endowed. En route to the temple we learned another of our children was in the middle of a situation that we could neither prevent nor mitigate, but that has resulted in significant issues for him and for our family.

I remember the day of my own endowment. I went alone to the Provo Temple (well, not really alone; I was with my freshman roommate from BYU; we were both entering the MTC in a day or two). My parents were half a world away living in Nigeria (where my dad was on a foreign assignment for work). It hadn’t occurred to me at the time that he might have actually wanted to be with me on that special day, and it hadn’t occurred to me that I might have wanted to be with him, either. But upon reflection, I realize that conditions were not ideal.

I remember the week our family was sealed in the Salt Lake Temple. It was just under a year from our baptism, and we drove the 1,800 miles to Salt Lake straight through. As we arrived in “the valley,” there were no roses blooming beneath our feet, and there seemed to be little love in that old blue station wagon; exhaustion fed bickering and sniping in the car.

They say that when someone goes to the temple that the adversary does what he can to disrupt the day. And I suppose that is true, though I suspect the adversary plants the seeds of destruction early and cares for them over time, rather than just trying to fowl things up on the big day. (That said, I have read a history of the Logan Temple, written for its centennial, which reported that early settlers of Cache Valley sai that they did better at getting to the temple if they didn’t announce their plans out loud. If they announced their plans, farm machinery seemed to break or cattle got out of pens and prevented attendance on the intended day. If they simply laid down their tools and went, they seemed to get there more easily.)

I don’t know why my life seems to be on diverging tracks of a roller coaster some days. Except for this: there must needs be opposition in all things. And the Savior has already descended below everything that I might endure in my life. It seems there needs to be that equal and opposite force in our lives. And the adversity of this life works for my experience.

And I know this: the peace that I feel in the temple –- from that first visit before I was 10, to my own endowment, to attending with my daughters for their endowments –- is real. And it is at the heart of my testimony of the gospel, come what may.

For some, the Book of Mormon is the keystone of testimony. If the Book of Mormon is true, they say, then Joseph was a prophet and the church is true. That is not my calculus, but I understand how some people make that connection.

For me, the calculus is similar, but different. The temple represents, according to President Hunter, the supreme mortal experience:

Let us truly be a temple-attending and a temple-loving people. We should hasten to the temple as frequently, yet prudently, as our personal circumstances allow. We should go not only for our kindred dead but also for the personal blessing of temple worship, for the sanctity and safety that are within those hallowed and consecrated walls. As we attend the temple, we learn more richly and deeply the purpose of life and the significance of the atoning sacrifice of the Lord Jesus Christ. Let us make the temple, with temple worship and temple covenants and temple marriage, our ultimate earthly goal and the supreme mortal experience (“A Temple Motivated People,” Ensign, February 1995).

Elsewhere, he taught that the temple is the great symbol of our membership in the church.

I have had enough spiritual experiences there to know for myself of the divine influence of that ritual. I have shared some of those experiences with a select few people in my life. Some I have shared with no one. But because of what I have felt and experienced in the temple, I can comfortably speak of knowing its divine roots and impact.

Like President Hunter, I wish that all members – especially my children -- might find the peace of the temple that I have found, and yet I know not everyone will (not even everyone who attends the temple will). And so I also hope that in His grand design, the Lord can sort this out in the eternities. And that hope is borne by my faith that He will.

Once more, with feeling

In my last post, I spoke about the separation of spiritual experience and emotion. Today I’d like to talk about the combination of the two.

I quoted Elder Packer in the last post in which he described how the Holy Ghost communicates with us: it whispers; it speaks understanding. In his description there was nothing to suggest that spiritual communication was also emotional.

Doctrine & Covenants 6 bears this idea out, speaking of Oliver’s experience with his testimony of the prophet Joseph and his work:

Verily, verily, I say unto thee, blessed art thou for what thou hast done; for thou hast inquired of me, and behold, as often as thou hast inquired thou hast received instruction of my Spirit. If it had not been so, thou wouldst not have come to the place where thou art at this time.

Behold, thou knowest that thou hast inquired of me and I did enlighten thy mind; and now I tell thee these things that thou mayest know that thou hast been enlightened by the Spirit of truth (Sec 6:14-15).

And also later the Lord reminds Oliver:

Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God (v. 23)?

That said, in Doctrine & Covenants 8, the Lord tells Oliver Cowdrey that the spirit speaks to mind and heart:

“Yea, behold, I will tell you in your mind and in your heart, by the Holy Ghost, which shall come upon you and which shall dwell in your heart” (v 2).

And the Lord’s instruction to Oliver confirm that spiritual confirmation may come at least near the heart:

But, behold, I say unto you, that you must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right, and if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right (D&C 9:8).

Alma also hints at the heart as receiver of spiritual communication when he teaches the Zoramites:

Now, we will compare the word unto a seed. Now, if ye give place, that a seed may be planted in your heart, behold, if it be a true seed, or a good seed, if ye do not cast it out by your unbelief, that ye will resist the Spirit of the Lord, behold, it will begin to swell within your breasts; and when you feel these swelling motions, ye will begin to say within yourselves—It must needs be that this is a good seed, or that the word is good, for it beginneth to enlarge my soul; yea, it beginneth to enlighten my understanding, yea, it beginneth to be delicious to me (32:8).

It’s easy for me to see why some equate emotional response with a burning in the bosom. Except for me, that’s not the way it happens.

I can tell when a movie (or an AT&T commercial) is going to make me tear up. I know where the feeling starts and how the tears will come. Sometimes I have similar reactions in sacrament meeting, especially if someone relates an experience with which I can easily empathize. That tearing up, for me, is not the spirit bearing witness.

Other times, however, I will feel the burning in the bosom – the confirming witness that truth is being taught – and then, in response to that stimulus, I may have an emotional response, as well. Emotion, for me, comes after the spirit.

That is my experience, and it took me some time to sort all of this out for myself.

There’s another component of this process that is important to me. When teaching the Zoramites, Alma also says:

Yea, he that truly humbleth himself, and repenteth of his sins, and endureth to the end, the same shall be blessed (32:15).

Alma’s talking about the fact that the Zoramites’ humble condition makes them able to feel spiritual promptings. The role of humility in our being able to feel the spirit is significant in my experience. I’m not in anyone else’s skin, so I can’t speak for others. But for me, I need to be in a position to receive the witness. That may be because I’ve been studying something out for some time. It may be because I’ve fasted and prayed. It may be because I’m (finally) willing to follow the Lord’s will instead of trying to dictate to Him what I hope His will will be.

An experience:

Late in my high school years, I came home from a month’s foreign exchange experience in Europe to find my mother had signed me up for youth conference. I was not excited to go, but agreed to attend because my mother wanted me to (she almost never played the “mom” card, so it was impossible for me to say no to her). Conference was ok. There were classes and dances, and the normal stuff from a 1970’s youth conference.

Of course we didn’t sleep much. We ate dorm food. We had a dance until late into the evening on Saturday and met on Sunday morning (early, without breakfast) for a priesthood meeting (the girls were in a young women’s meeting), followed by a testimony meeting.

Like all the other boys, I was tired going into that priesthood meeting. It was a little hard to stay awake. Our visitor from Salt Lake (I don’t remember who he was) was an entertaining speaker though, and at least he kept me awake.

As he taught, I became increasingly interested in listening to him. He taught about the pre-mortal existence, the fall of Adam, and the plan of redemption. It was a message that touched my heart. I was not emotionally charged by what he said, but I felt that swelling in my breast that Alma described. I knew in my head and in my heart what he was saying was true. I knew more then – that day – than I ever had before that God loved me, that Jesus Christ had atoned for my sins, and that I could enjoy the power of his redeeming love in my life.

When I reflect on that experience now, I am often a little weepy. Not because the tears are a sign of the spirit’s confirmation, but because of the significance of the event for me in my life and the changes it prompted me to make in my thinking and in my plans, and the course it drove me to choose. It was a tender moment, and, yes, even a tender mercy in my life.

I’m grateful for the Lord’s speaking to my heart and my mind that day and many times since.

"Feeling" the Spirit

Elder Packer taught a group of new mission presidents:

The voice of the Spirit is described in the scriptures as being neither loud nor harsh, not a voice of thunder, neither a voice of great tumultuous noise, but rather as still and small, of perfect mildness, as if it had been a whisper, and it can pierce even the very soul and cause the heart to burn. The Spirit does not get our attention by shouting ("How Does The Spirit Speak To Us?", New Era, Feb 2010, from an address to new mission presidents from June 1991).

In the same address he said:

When we experience a spiritual communication, we are wont to say within ourselves, “This is it. Now I understand.”

In these two quotations, it is interesting that Elder Packer does not talk about emotional feelings. I have had plenty of times in my life when I’ve felt the influence of the spirit. And sometimes I have also felt great emotion. It took me some time to realize the difference for me.

I get emotional about a lot of things. I weep at movies. My kids joke that I cry often in church. When I used to travel more, I’d weep at the AT&T commercials they showed on my international flights (and I’d want to call my kids right then). Knowing that I weep easily, I have had to learn to avoid assuming that tears meant spirit.

Elder Packer’s second quotation above is the key for me. “Now I understand.”

I can point to specific times in my life when I have been able to say this. Marking my experience at those times, I’ve come to understand how the spirit speaks to me. Here is one of those experiences:

During my freshman year at BYU, I came to know some of the issues surrounding the prophet Joseph Smith. I had a roommate whose dad was not a friend of the church, and my roommate and I spent a lot of time talking about his concerns. I had by then had enough of my own experience to accept Joseph’s first vision and the Book of Mormon as true. But I was fuzzy on pretty much everything else. As I studied that year, I got more and more concerned about my own testimony.

As the time to put in my missionary papers drew near, I knew I wanted to serve. I resolved, consciously, to put my concerns about Joseph on a shelf, trusting my conviction about the first vision and the Book of Mormon. When I attended the temple for the first time, and subsequently during my time in the LTM (shortly before its re-birth as the MTC), I felt peace there. When I came to the temple for my own endowment, I felt the same peace I’d felt as a child at our family’s sealing.

After my mission, I continued to consider my concerns about the prophet Joseph and the things I could not piece together. I still felt unsettled, but continued onward, trusting what I knew to be true and hoping for resolution of the rest.

Some fifteen years after my mission I was teaching church history and the Doctrine and Covenants in Gospel Doctrine. As I was preparing for a regular class one week, I was prayerfully considering whatever sections were the subject matter. As I did so, it was as if a tumbler turned in my brain and pieces I had previously not understood fell into place. Without completely being able to explain what happened, I came away with more understanding – spiritual understanding – of Joseph’s role in the restoration. My testimony of God, of Jesus Christ and of the church was strengthened. And since then, that testimony has been reinforced from time to time with further understanding as I have sought it.

This particular moment of enlightenment was not emotional. It was not a booming trumpet that proclaimed the truth. I did not feel a rushing of wind. I did not see a vision. I simply understood what I had not understood moments before.

Update: Please see my second entry in this series, "Once more, with feeling"

"Youth Conference was Awesome!"

That was my son’s Facebook status a few weeks ago after he returned from a couple of days in Kirtland. It’s the kind of thing that makes the heart of a parent of a mid-teen soar, especially when for a long time that mid-teen seemed to find something to complain about with everything he did, especially at church.

I don’t know exactly what made his youth conference awesome. (I do know he was really impressed by the bathrooms at the Morely Farm – very high-tech ones in a trailer, but with wood floors and MoTab music piped in…) In any case, I’m glad that the conference was awesome enough for him to note it.

There’s that saying that 90% of life is just showing up. I don’t think that’s really true, but I do think it may be true for teenagers. Getting them to the right place at the right time is crucial to the development of testimony, values and character (hopefully those three intersect well).

The summer before my senior year, I was away from home when my mom signed me up for youth conference. When I came home, I complained just a little, but my mom played the “Do it for me” card (one she played only very rarely in my life). I went. And it was awesome, and for more than just the bathrooms (frankly I don’t remember the bathrooms!). I made a new friend at that conference that significantly influenced a couple of key future decisions in my life, like going to BYU and going on a mission. I felt the spirit in that conference like I hadn’t in several years, and had a testimony rekindled. That conference – and the keynote speaker in particular (someone from Salt Lake whose name I no longer remember) – contributed significantly to who I am today.

By the way, I love Kirtland. If you haven’t been, it’s well worth the trip from wherever you are. Apparently, even the bathrooms are awesome.

On the language of testimony

I love the ward I live in. It’s a rather mature suburban ward in the Midwestern United States. There’s a mix of local members – some second- or third-generation, some converts – and transplants from elsewhere because of large companies who hire people from top grad schools (including BYU). Though employment used to be dominated by one or two companies in the ward, it doesn’t seem to be the case anymore.

I’d say the ward is quite conservative politically. I cringe every so often at something I hear in a hallway conversation or at a table at a ward activity, but we don’t preach politics from the pulpit or in the classroom as far as I can tell. Though our ward is economically diverse, it skews to higher end of the income scale in our stake. And it’s clearly a “teach from the manual” ward – a point driven by our stake president (who resides in the ward) and those who serve with him. (“Teach from the manual” does not necessarily mean “Ready, Aim, Read” however.)

After reading recently about the language people use in their testimonies and how testimony meetings work in some places, I thought I’d pay closer attention to yesterday’s meeting in our ward. I’d say it was a typical testimony meeting. We had about a half hour for testimonies after the bishop’s counselor bore a very short testimony to get things rolling. In addition to the counselor we heard from:

Seven adult women
Five adult men
One 11-year old primary boy
One young woman

Of those fourteen, I think I’ve heard from no more than three of them in the last three months (maybe only two).

By my count, ten of them used the words “I know”, six of them included expressions of gratitude, one used the word “testify” (rather than “know”) and one “witness”.

But as I listened I found those specific words were far less important than the experiences people shared – not so much the “what” but the “how” of their testimonies. I remember serving in bishoprics in the past in which we began Fast and Testimony Meeting by reminding those attending that a testimony is a brief expression of what we’ve come to know and how we have come to know it.

In our meeting yesterday, we heard (among other things) about gaining strength from the Lord in times of trial, comfort from knowledge of the Lord and His gospel, that sometimes the “hedges of safety” in our lives are removed so that we can grow in faith, a tender experience of a sister who performed the vicarious sealing of her mother to the mother’s parents, and more than one expressed gratitude for parents who had joined the church thus giving the member testifying the blessings of the gospel.

I found I was touched in most cases by the experiences my brothers and sisters shared, particularly those experiences that resonated with my own – I have felt the Lord’s presence in my life in times of trial; I’ve known the comfort that a witness of the Lord brings; I have felt the vulnerability of the lack of “hedges of safety”; I’ve enjoyed the blessing of participating in sealings for loved ones who have passed on; I’m grateful for my parents’ choice to join the church when I was a child.

These were all sincere expressions of personal experience, even the Primary boy’s testimony. Although there was some common phraseology, these were not cookie-cutter testimonies.

I was fortunate to be there to hear them.

On knowing and believing

I had an interesting conversation with a friend recently.

She is a convert to the church and she has had some remarkable experiences which have taught her that God loves her, and that He has intervened in her life. She will tell you that she knows that Jesus suffered for her sins and by His atoning sacrifice she has already been greatly blessed.

And yet sometimes she feels weak and inadequate. Sometimes she feels unworthy of His love. She feels, sometimes, that she is not worth rescuing.

As I listened to her, I thought of my own experience. I joined the church with my parents when I was about nine, so I effectively grew up in the church. I have never doubted that God lives. I have never questioned that Savior suffered and died for me. I have repeatedly felt the witness of the Holy Ghost testifying of the truthfulness of the plan of salvation as it has been taught to me and as I have taught it to others.

And yet when it came time for me to call upon the atonement in a very real way, I did not reach for it.

I knew it was true, but I did not really believe it was true for me.

Of course at the time, I did not understand that’s what I was doing. By clinging to what I “knew”, I was looking through a glass darkly, seeing the shape of the atonement without allowing it to lift and comfort me as I had watched it do for others. I knew the facts of the atonement, but I did not believe it (enough).

Often our discussion is on the progression from belief to knowledge. For me, in this instance it’s moving from knowledge to belief – or perhaps better said, faith. Specifically developing the faith that the atonement – which I had seen work for others – could also work for me.

Fortunately on most days I have crossed that bridge. And on many days so has my friend. And I’ve recognized and enjoyed those blessings of the atonement in my life. But it is, I suspect, a challenging bridge for most of us to cross, precisely when we need to cross it.

A simple testimony

Our mission president attended our sacrament meeting last week. What a nice guy he is. His role in the times I’ve heard him speak seems to be cheerleader-in-chief. I’ve only known a couple of mission presidents with any more than passing acquaintance, but the ones I’ve known have been genuinely kind and loving men with deep respect for the gospel, for the missionaries they shepherd, for the members they serve and for the non-members they teach.

Our mission president here is no different, though I judge that only from a very few interactions I’ve had with him.

Our bishop invited the president to share his testimony, which he did just before the youth speaker. He was gracious, succinct and eloquent as he spoke very briefly and in a way that did not overshadow the young woman who followed him or the rest of the program.

Here’s basically what he said (from my hastily written notes; I’ve not captured it all word for word): My testimony is simple. There is a God. He creates worlds and he knows us individually. He knows our individual burdens, struggles and victories. He parted the heavens to speak to the prophet Joseph Smith. The fullness of the gospel of Jesus Christ has been restored, and evidence of that restoration is in the Book of Mormon. I rejoice in the power of that book.

His testimony was simple, straightforward and powerful. I do not recall his using the word “know.” But I do recall the spirit which testified with him.

A revelatory experience

Today was the second worldwide training session for Handbook 2, and I'm sure there will be plenty of commentary across the bloggernacle. And the segments from today's training will soon also be online at lds.org, according to Elder Nelson (who conducted the meeting).

I had the pleasure of attending with my wife, as we each happen to have callings that got us invited.

Things that moved me:

1. Can I just say that I love Sister Beck? As my wife and I spoke about her on the way home, we agreed she is plain-talking, uplifting, and generally spot-on in just about everything she says. My favorite quote of hers today: "The Lord loves beginners." Thank goodness, I say, because each day I'm a beginner all over again.

2. The video segments from international settings were wonderful. Apart from wondering how they filmed the interactions in Korea and Guatemala and Britain, I was just really impressed. The Guatemalan ward council was particularly impressive to me. It reminded me of ward council meetings I attended in Venezuela, and so I had a great mixture of memory and impressions about the present example.

3. The repeated invitation to seek personal revelation, inspiration, the spirit of revelation, revelatory experiences and so on. I was impressed by the number of invitations, and by the impressions I felt during the broadcast and during our own mini family council on the way home.

4. The opportunity to attend with my wife and to hear what was important to her, namely the discussion of priesthood principles. She appreciated the instruction since, as she said, she doesn't get that instruction as often as she would like.

5. Elder Scott's apostolic witness. My favorite quotation from him: "I know He lives because I know Him." I believe he does.

I was happy to be so well taught.

On investigation

I heard my stake president speak twice in the last few weeks – once at our ward conference and once at a mission fireside. The talks shared a theme of personal revelation. In both talks he spoke about the need for personal investigation before seeking personal revelation.

In the mission fireside talk he told a story of something that had happened to him that day. He runs a wound clinic at a local hospital and had a patient who had been coming for a long time (later he told me several years) without substantial progress, and they had begun to discuss the possibility of amputating her leg. He had given her the name of a doctor who could tell her all about artificial limbs and what life might be like with one. And she also received names of amputees she could talk to about their experience.

When she returned to the wound clinic, my stake president asked her what she wanted to do. She said she did not know. He asked her if she had spoken to the doctor or to the amputees. She had not. He told her, “Of course you do not know what you want to do. You have not investigated this alternative.”

Looking from the outside, one might assume that she was afraid to make the choice, or perhaps she wanted the doctor to make the choice for her. But he had given her tools to make a decision for herself.

His counsel to the attendees at the fireside was to continue to investigate the church, to study the Book of Mormon, to live the commandments, to explore the blessings of being a member of the Lord’s church. Then, he said, personal revelation can come. Then, Moroni’s promise can be fulfilled.

Hearing him, I reflected on my teenage son about whom I blogged recently. He’s in that same age that Joseph Smith was when Joseph wondered what to do about religion. My son also wonders how to make sense of it all. Joseph’s quest was to find what church to join, to find which was right. My son’s is to discover if God is really there and if he should stay in church (any church). But in both cases, the resolution is made possible by what my stake president taught.

I shared with my son the story our stake president told. And I invited him to continue to investigate. And he is doing that. To his credit, he is not acting out of laziness, but out of a desire to find resolution, and I respect and admire him for that.

As I reflected on my own experience, I realize that my stake president is right. As I investigated, I learned enough to seek and understand personal revelation which contributed to choices I made in my life. And I’m glad I did.

On grace and repentance

In recovery circles, where 12-step programs are practiced, there's an understanding that one cannot do it alone. If one takes the AA approach to recovery, one first faces the reality that no one can, by himself, control the disease of addiction. And one walks through steps that lead one to understand dependence on God for rescue from that same disease.

It's not that there isn't a great deal of work to be done by the person seeking recovery (whether an addict, an alcoholic or a co-dependent loved one of an addict). Surrendering oneself to God is no simple task.

In Step 7 of the church's Addiction Recovery Program (which is based on the 12 steps of AA, but is also infused with more direct links to doctrine and to commentary from apostles and prophets), we read these words:

"Genuine remorse filled our hearts, not only because we had suffered or made others suffer but because we regretted that even in recovery we still could not remove our own shortcomings…. We asked that He would grant us grace, that through Him we might maintain this new way of life" (A Guide to Addiction Recovery and Healing", 41, emphasis mine).

My own experience is that the 12 steps are an elegant application of the atonement in our lives, and lessons from the 12 steps are readily applicable to other efforts at repentance and rebirth. The truth of this particular step is no exception:

All of us who sin (and I think I can safely say that's all of us) cannot overcome that sin alone. It is not enough simply to stop our objectionable behavior (even if we can): we require the mercy and grace of a loving Savior to heal our hearts and our lives.

Herein is God's grace clear, that we have the opportunity to overcome our shortcomings, that He can turn our weaknesses into strengths (see Ether 12:27), that He can lift up the hands that hang down (D&C 81:8). I have seen that grace in my own life, and that is how I know He lives.

I don't believe -- Part II

In my last post I wrote about my son's declaration that he did not believe in God.

I was touched by the responses that post received, both public and private. I wrote the post because the point of my blog is to write about my experience as a Latter-day Saint. And part of that experience (for me, anyway) is teenagers who question their faith. Most of my kids have done it in one way or another. Some have been gentler about it. Some have been more strident (and less will to talk about it). But it's all part of the mix for me as an LDS parent.

When I started my journey on the road of parenting, I was filled with great expectations. My kids would know that I loved them and they would love me. We'd be a happy family, and we'd live worthy of the blessings of our family's sealing.

Have you noticed that in parenting discussions, it's often the youngest parents who do most of the talking? I was certainly that way. As I've aged (matured? become more battle-worn?) I've learned that there are lots of moving parts in the rearing of a child. There are few easy answers and there are no guaranteed results. In fact, our Father in Heaven's plan is pretty clear about not guaranteeing the outcome. The opportunity is guaranteed, but the outcome is up to each one of us.

It took me a long time to learn that lesson as a dad. My younger children owe my older children a great debt for what the older kids taught me (sometimes patiently, sometimes not so much).

But here's something my kids do know about me. They know I love them. They know that they are welcome at my table. And they know I want them to be happy.

And there are some things I know about them. They love me back. I'm welcome at their table, too. And they respect my faith, even if they do not all embrace it.

If we are all together for the eternities (and I have faith in the covenants I've made that make that possible), I hope we will be comfortable together. We're taught there are no wards or stakes in the Celestial Kingdom, only families. If that's true, then I would like my children to want to be at my table then.

"I don't believe in God."

We were not surprised to hear him say it, but hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. When our son delivered this message, my wife listened calmly and said little. In a follow-up conversation he allowed as how he’s not done thinking about it, yet, and he hasn’t made any final decisions. He is, after all, only 14.

But his best school friend is, like him, a bright scientific thinker, heavily influenced by the popular science minds today. And the friend is also somewhat confused by his family’s church’s teachings about some things.

As we’ve had follow up conversations, here are some things we’ve said:

1. No one can make you believe. In the end, you have to choose for yourself, and live with your choices.

2. At 14, you might not know everything you will learn in your life; there may be still more understanding to come that will influence what you believe.

3. Just as there are a lot of smart people you admire who do not believe, there are also a lot of smart people who do. Think about why people who believe do, and see if there’s anything in there for you.

4. Don’t give up on the wrong God. Just because your protestant friend’s view of the scriptures is hard for you to understand, listen to what your church teaches, and ask God for help. He can answer your prayers.

The good news is that he’s come to this crossroads while he’s still at home with people who love him. And he’s willing to leave the book open for a while. And he’s still talking about how he feels. And his friendships at church are still very important to him.

Friends and Church Activity

In one of our ward councils recently our Young Women's president expressed concern about participation among the youth of our ward.

It's not a new concern, certainly. Anyone who has parented teenagers has worried about how to keep his kids active in church, hoping they'll somehow find that spark of testimony that will propel them to those decisions that will bless their lives in a lasting way.

And most of us who have been there understand that there's no easy answer and there are certainly no guarantees.

A number of years ago, during my service as bishop in a ward that had a fairly large group of young men, we had a summit meeting of sorts with everyone who had anything to do with young men and boys from age 8 – 18. We were concerned about the drop out rate and wondered what (more) we could be doing to stem the tide. (I should point out that we did not discuss young women in this meeting, because we had seven in the ward, all of whom were quite active, but I suspect we could have had a similar discussion about young women and reached similar conclusions.)

We – bishopric, Aaronic priesthood advisers, scout leaders, Primary teachers & leaders, and a few interested parents – gathered for a Saturday morning. We reviewed programs, scriptures and stories of rescues (from the oft-told stories of the rescued handcart pioneers to a dramatic military rescue of a soldier behind enemy lines). We taught ourselves again of the value of these young people and the need to do whatever could be done to reach them.

A sizable portion of our meeting was brainstorming in small groups to generate ideas of what to do next. Everything was on the table from how we organized our scouting activities to assigning adult mentors to rethinking home teaching companionships to the way we collected fast offerings.

My biggest learning from the day was about the value of friends. It seems the kids who did the best had friends at church, and it seems those friendships helped to reinforce positive choices. It wasn't universally true – some kids who seemed to have good friends at church still made poor choices – but particularly for teenagers it seemed critical to have friends who reinforced what the kids had learned at home and at church.

That lesson bore itself out with my own kids over time. Those who had close friendships at church that reinforced the gospel teaching our kids were getting at home stayed truer and tended to make better choices. Those who didn't have those personal connections at church drifted away more easily and found it harder to hang on while waiting for the fire of testimony to ignite.

As I listened to our Young Women's president and to the discussion that followed, I thought about the tough road our kids face. From their parents they see an example of gospel service and the attendant blessings, but there are many other messages they see as well. At some critical times, a parent's voice is not the first one they hear. Or want to hear.

Of course the challenge is how to encourage those friendships. One of the most unnatural acts (especially for kids) is to be "assigned" to make friends.

I welcome your thoughts.

It dulls the pain of days

As testimony fills my heart,
It dulls the pain of days.
For one brief moment, Heaven's view
Appears before my gaze.
("Testimony", Hymns, 137)

A friend quoted this verse in her testimony yesterday in our sacrament meeting and it resonated with me.

Given enough time our hearts heal. That healing may be aided by the support of loving friends and family. And by the help of professional counselors or even medication. But also by the growth of testimony in the Lord Jesus Christ and in His gospel – the good news of His atoning sacrifice and its implications for us in this life and the next.

We spoke about Exaltation in our Gospel Essentials class yesterday. It was a lesson that brought together a year of study of the Lord's Plan for us. That Plan of Redemption, of Happiness, of Salvation is our Father's gift to us, a means of our returning to His presence. And a testimony of that Plan helps my heart to heal. It gives me hope, even in the face of what otherwise might seem like crushing burdens in my life.

In this past two weeks I've had incredible spiritual highs and lows. I've seen the positive effect of great choices that one child has made, and I've also seen at the same time lingering negative effect of the choices of another child. The contrast has been exhausting, frankly. I love both of these children, and I want the best for both of them. And I know that I am powerless in both cases and must simply follow Alma the elder's example and rely on the Lord to sort things out.

For me, testimony dulls the pain of days. I'm grateful for a deep enough spiritual well to sustain me. And that deeper well comes specifically because I've learned more in the last few years about the atonement than I thought I could.