"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.

Making the standards our own

In a recent sacrament meeting someone mentioned the idea of making the standards our own. The context was the 13th article of faith, the new Mutual theme for the year. By making standards our own, the speaker was not suggesting that we each develop our own set, but that we adopt the Lord's standards as ours.

As I thought about making the standards our own, I thought about something Sister Allred mentioned in a Relief Society leadership meeting my wife attended a few months ago. She suggested a better title for For The Strength of Youth (the standards pamphlet) would be For The Strength of You because it has value for all church members, not just the youth. (Our local RS president must have taken this to heart. This month's mid-week RS meeting is one in which our ward's young men and young women presented For The Strength of Youth to the Relief Society.)

In John, 17:7 we read, "If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself." I think this is all about making the standards our own, taking those qualities outlined in the 13th article of faith, in the Strength of Youth pamphlet, and throughout the scriptures and living them, internalizing them, feeling their blessings in our lives. In this way, I think we follow Alma's admonition to take the countenance of Christ upon ourselves (see Alma 5:14).

This presupposes, of course, that one accepts "the standards" as what the Savior would have us do. When I have taught standards to the youth, I've suggested they are like the sign at the amusement park that says "you must be 'this' tall to ride." They tell us we where we are striving to go in our behavior to be like the Savior, and to enhance our spiritual lives.

And my own John 17:7 experience has been a positive one.

More on friends

In my last post, I talked about the value of good friends for our youth. But the same is true, of course, for adults.

President Hinckley taught his now-famous triplet about what new members need: a friend, a responsibility, and the nurturing of the good word of Christ. In my parents' early days in the church, I think the new friends they made there were exceptionally important. We were fortunate to be introduced to the church by another family, neighbors up the street. So we had friends (one of their children first invited me to Primary) close by at the beginning. And others reached out to my folks, as well, helping them to feel a part of the branch from the outset.

I know for me, my best friend in the world is my wife. And having her with me at church has been critical to many of my choices, including my continuing activity. I know when we have moved to a new ward, she was there with me, and we've made the transition together. When she or I have assignments that take us away from our home ward, I miss being with her in church.

Most of my other church friendships come along with my assignments for service. I become close to other members of the group I'm serving with. And sometimes those friendships change a bit when the assignment does, just because we don't have circumstances that keep us together. But there have been a few lasting friendships – some closer than others – over the years.

When I was in high school and at a critical time for making key decisions about my life in the church and my future, I made a new friend in our ward. His simple friendship (and he really didn't do anything except be nice to me and be willing to hang out, beat me at tennis once in a while, and be a friend) tipped my scale in favor of continued activity and choices that led to a mission and a temple sealing. Could I have gotten there without him? Maybe. Would I have? I don't know. But I know having his friendship was important to me that senior year.

Several years ago in a period of pretty deep depression, I was able to open up to a friend who patiently listened. He didn't offer solutions, but allowed me to talk my way through my own. And his presence in my life that year made a huge difference to me.

For me, these friendships have been almost accidental. They have begun under the assumption that friendship would be agreeable to both of us. In other words, I have had to be open to friendship in order to find it. I could not simply wait for it to be bestowed upon me.

In some moments of reflection, I find myself asking if I'm doing enough to cultivate new friendships. Those new friendships would benefit me, and others, too, perhaps. Perhaps one day I can be a friend who will listen as another stews over doctrine, or puzzles over how to help a child in trouble, or faces big challenges just as others have been such a friend to me.

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.

It is resolved

My father was born on New Year's Day. I associate my memories of New Years with him because of his birthday, but also because of New Years Resolutions. I can remember trying to write down resolutions – goals for the year – at his urging when I was a kid. And now, even though my father has been gone for several years, I still think of him and resolutions when New Year's Day comes around.

Dad was a firm believer in self-improvement. He was well-read, not because of his formal training (he was an exceptionally average engineering student in college, but he had a fine career including professional recognition in his field), but because he enjoyed learning. There were many family dinners during which one of us kids was sent looking for the encyclopedia to prove (or disprove) some point of discussion at the table.

Dad sought to instill in us a desire to reach higher, to do more than we thought we could do. His example, together with my mother's, seemed to suggest we really could do anything we set our minds to. I remember talking to him as I graduated high school about what I would study at college. I was a little worried to suggest that I would study theatre, thinking it would be too artsy for his very practical view of life. He surprised me when he thought for a moment and said, "Whatever you study, if you're the best you'll always work."

Dad loved New Year's resolutions, and he encouraged us to write them. Goals for the year. Short statements of what we would seek to improve or build upon in the new year. Chart a course. Lay out a roadmap. Make a plan.

I spent many years of my life as a compulsive planner. Before we married, I wrote budget after budget demonstrating that we could not afford to marry while my wife said, "Let's see – we live separately now for more than it would cost us to get married and live together. What's not to work?" I planned my children's futures. I planned my own career (many times as I kept changing horse mid-stream during college).

Several years ago circumstances combined to help me take a shorter term view, to focus less on the future and more on today, to live in the moment, even one day at a time. And in the intervening years, I've been learning to balance prudent long-term thinking against the value of living today for today.

So not all my resolutions will be for a year. Some will be for a day. And I'll make them each day. And some will help me strike that balance between one day at a time and prudent long-term thinking. But they'll still remind me of my dad.

A first visit to the temple

Last week I received an early Christmas gift as my daughter received her endowment. She is not getting married and she is not going on a mission. She just decided it was time for her to take this step in her life. Fortunately her bishop and her stake president agreed.

She is not my first child, but she is the first of my children to go through the temple. It was a delightful experience to be there with her on that remarkable day. It was not an easy day, and it made me think of two or three other difficult days I've been in the temple.

When our family was sealed in the Salt Lake Temple, it was after driving nearly non-stop from Pittsburgh, PA, to Salt Lake City. My parents were exhausted as we looked for the KOA campground near Point of the Mountain, and to listen to us in the car that evening, one would never have guessed we wanted to be together for another ten minutes let alone for eternity. (In fairness, I assume we won't be stuck in a 1964 Buick station wagon for eternity.) Yet we were sealed the next day, and it was a singularly spiritual event.

On my own endowment day, as I've blogged here, I was sprayed by a truck cleaning the sidewalk as I walked to the Provo Temple. But the sun dried me off and I survived.

On my wife's endowment day, we had missed the information that I also should arrive early at the temple (I knew I had to be in the session, of course) and got a frantic phone call from her saying that I needed to be at the temple RIGHT NOW. I made it in time enough.

And there was plenty of external excitement on the day my daughter was endowed, but we rode those waves all the way to the temple door, and stepped gently into the peaceful arms of the spirit of temple worship.

Going to the temple was not, for my daughter, a quick choice. It was a lifetime of choices that led to her being there that day, and I am grateful for those choices in her life and to those who helped her make them. Yes, her mother and I had some positive influence on her, but we do not take credit for her choices; they are hers alone. But we are proud of her (in that acceptable post-Benson/Uchtdorf sort of way).

It was very cool for me to sit through the session and see it with new eyes, wondering how she saw what I saw. And it is wonderful that she is planning to go back again tomorrow.