Exponent II's Blog, page 39

Guest Post: What Man Can I Trust?

by Anonymous

Like many other people, I read the disturbing New York Times article that recounted the sexual harassment Justin Baldoni and Jamey Heath (the creators of the Man Enough podcast) allegedly inflicted upon Blake Lively on the movie set of It Ends With Us. I’ve been wondering why the news felt like a gut punch to me. After a lot of processing, I think I pinpointed why I felt betrayed over this news: these men has held themselves up as male allies who were emotionally attuned, critiqued rigid gender roles, and embraced a masculinity that was caring and empathetic. In them I had finally found male allies that I thought were examples of the “ideal man,” and I am now terribly lost and don’t know which men to really trust.

I think that many LDS people specifically would wonder why I would ever be dramatic enough to say that I feel lost when it comes to finding examples of “ideal men” because they would just point to the massive list of male General Authorities and say, “Pick one! They’re men of God!” I believe that this way of thinking is a form of hero worship that demands people to view their priesthood leaders as infallible, incorruptible people whose opinions should be seen as doctrine and whose actions we should all emulate. There is no better quote that summarizes this pedestalizing than “If God is male, then male is God” (Mary Daly). These men release their books and go on their public speaking tours and create a culture where they are elevated above the average member simply because of a position they hold; whether this is intentional or not I’m not sure, but it does happen and it doesn’t seem to be slowing down.

I used to be a sucker for this kind of hero worship mentality as well. Ever since I was young, my family members and fellow ward members would really only speak about how great priesthood leaders were. I never heard the men of influence being referred to as human beings with complications and nuance — they were simply men called by God, so therefore they were without fault. The glass façade started cracking for me in 2022 with President Wilcox’s disrespectful and racist laden sermon at a stake conference and how it was simply brushed aside without any form of meaningful consequence. The other difficult component is that when I attempted to talk to the fully committed family members and friends about President Wilcox’s disgusting behavior, I was met with furrowed brows and dismissive words. It was more of a “well, we must forgive him” response and a moving on that felt way too abrupt and unresolved.

In the time period from Feb 2022 to the present, I have had many instances where I have witnessed troublesome behavior and actions from General Authorities down through bishops at local levels. I know now from very personal experiences with the Bay Area ban of women on the stand that you get “leader roulette” and that, no, not all of the leaders in the church actually care about women’s voices, safety, security, opinions, or progression outside the bounds of marriage and motherhood. Sure, many leaders will prop their wives up in meetings and have their wives talk about how they feel empowered in this church, but then the leaders don’t make space for their spouses at the decision-making table. Many leaders will claim to value your input but not include you in meetings of influence, nor make it easy for you to give them feedback, especially in what I call the “middle management,” which is the Area Authorities’ division. The leaders will say you’re a daughter of God but then when presented with damning information about sexual assaults/harassments you face, many will not use their priesthood authority appropriately and will shield abusers and leave you out to struggle alone.

I would also be remiss to not mention someone like Tim Ballard in this conversation. Tim was also a self-proclaimed truth seeker who was an “advocate” for trafficked victims. It wasn’t until he crashed and burned his own image that people started waking up about him. I found that Tim had become so much of what he claimed to be fighting, and that happens to many men regardless of religion, age, race, etc.

So, you can imagine the stirring of hope I had when I stumbled upon Jamey and Justin’s podcast. Here were two men claiming to be sincere, open, honest, vulnerable, and caring in ways I had never actually seen most of my church leaders be when it came to creating space for women. These were men having difficult conversations that I would never even imagine most priesthood leaders being interested in having. And to top it all off, these men claimed to want to be held accountable for their actions. Accountability, that pesky but wonderful word I recited every week in Young Women’s as part of the Young Women’s Theme. What does accountability even look like to our priesthood leaders? When mistakes are made, who do they apologize to and how do they go about repairing the harm they have done? What do they feel like they owe to the people who have been affected by their actions? And are they that interested in stepping aside if their actions have been too damaging and are distracting away from their callings to be representatives of Jesus Christ Himself?

In closing, I think this whole experience has been good for me because I have been confronted with the fact that I can’t just foolishly trust any man and that the only men I can fully trust are my savior Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father. Anything else is idol worship that I must steer away from. I now know that my “ideal man” is someone who is consistently humble, thoughtful, and inclusive. And, yes, I know that there are some LDS priesthood leaders who are consistent in all things good. Nevertheless, I now realize that from now on, I should remember the phrase, “It’s all men until it’s no men.”*

*”It’s all men until it’s no men” points to the fact that we are all embedded in a patriarchal system that harms women, even though individual men may themselves be beneficent. It’s also a response to the common reaction “Not all men” when hearing about the violence and/or inequity that women experience at men’s hands. “It’s all men until it’s no men” points to the proactive work that men must do as a group to address sexism and gender-based violence.

Guest Post: Growth and Grace

by Keely Richins

 

I thought I didn’t like action movies,

But then, I saw one with a female lead

 

I thought I didn’t like watching sports,

But then, I discovered Ilona Maher, Caitlin Clark, Simone Biles

 

I thought I wasn’t interested in politics,

But then, I listed to Sharon McMahon

 

I thought LGBTQ were confused

But then, I listened

 

I thought I needed to fear “the world”

But then, love conquered my fear

 

I thought I had to endure to the end, 

But then, I was freed by the present

 

I was told to use priesthood power,

But then, I guess I already did?

 

I thought my garments were to “cover my nakedness,”

But then, I realized I had nothing to hide

 

I thought I only needed to follow,

But then, I already knew my own way

 

I thought I knew Heavenly Father

But then, I lived the life of my Mother

 

I said, “That’s not my experience,”

But then, I lived it myself

 

I promised a lot of things forever,

But then, I didn’t have all the information

 

I thought I was fully grown with all the answers,

But then, I became a child with only questions

 

I thought I was grounded in knowledge,

But then, doubt taught me to fly

 

I thought I loved who I was,

But then, I still do

 

Keely is a reader, runner, proud Utah native, Idaho backpacker, nightgown wearing millennial, friend, and rabbit-owner. She loves to laugh, be outside, and gaslight my anxious soul into doing things to make me tough. She lives a thrilling life with a CPA and three kids in a home with a red door.

Keep two-deep leadership in Primary. Scrap rules that equate co-teaching with sex.

According to two-deep leadership rules, all Latter-day Saint (LDS) Primary classes must have two co-teachers, but a man and woman are allowed to co-teach together only if they are married to each other. It’s almost the same rule as the Law of Chastity: a Latter-day Saint man and woman are only allowed to have sex with each other if they are married to each other. But does it make sense to treat co-teaching like sex?

According to two-deep leadership rules in Primary, a Latter-day Saint man and woman are allowed to co-teach together only if they are married to each other.

My local bishopric recently extended a calling to me and my spouse to co-teach a Primary class at our local Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS) ward. I love teaching (and it’s a great motivation to share my lesson plans here at Exponent II) but I had to think twice about accepting this calling. I examined the rules around teaching Primary and could see why staffing Primary is such a nightmare for Primary presidencies and bishoprics.

In this article…Primary teachers never get a day off.Primary requires two-deep leadership.The two-deep rule in Primary is a reasonable precaution.The time commitment would be more reasonable if Primary teachers worked in teams of three.Primary co-teachers must be married to each other or of the same sex.But what if everybody has sex?Let’s keep two-deep leadership in Primary, but let’s scrap sex-phobic co-teaching restrictions.Primary teachers never get a day off.

Adult and teen Sunday School classes are held only twice a month, alternating with Relief Society/Priesthood and Young Women/Young Men. That means teachers of adult and youth classes get every other week off. 

Primary classes are the only church classes that meet every single week.  Each week, kids attend a shorter Primary class preceded or followed by Singing Time.

That’s great for kids, who tend to have short attention spans. It’s not so great for Primary teachers, who are required to be present every Sunday, with no days off. When a teacher of an adult or youth class needs to miss church for travel or illness, there’s a 50% chance they won’t have to worry about finding a substitute because it’s already their scheduled day off. A primary teacher needs to find a substitute every single time they miss church.

Primary requires two-deep leadership.In keeping with the principle of two-deep leadership, a Primary teacher is not allowed to teach without a co-teacher. Put a second teacher in that empty chair!

But wait, you might ask, since you and your husband are co-teaching this class, you wouldn’t need to find a substitute if just one of you gets sick, right? The healthy spouse could teach alone.

When we co-taught adult Gospel Doctrine, that’s how we covered whenever just one of us missed church. No need to find a substitute if one of the two co-teachers was still available to teach the class.

However, unlike adult classes, Primary classes require two-deep leadership. (Church Handbook 12.3.5) That means both co-teachers must be present every week. So even when it’s my husband’s turn to teach, I’ll still need to be there or find a substitute to sit in the classroom in my place.

The two-deep rule in Primary is a reasonable precaution.

Requiring two adults in every children’s class is based on a precaution developed by the Boy Scouts of America following a series of child sex abuse scandals within their organization. [i] Requiring the presence of an extra adult seems reasonable, given the importance of preventing sexual abuse of children. I mean, it’s literally the least we could do. (What about background checks? Security cameras? Glass doors on classrooms?)

The two-deep rule in Primary began in 2019, after a series of well-publicized activist efforts calling attention to child sexual abuse in church settings. Before that time, only male Primary teachers were required to have a co-teacher. Women could teach Primary alone. Church policymakers were apparently more concerned that men might abuse children than that women would, and the statistics bear that out. Most child sex abuse offenders are male. [ii] But I think there is a strong argument to be made for taking reasonable precautions to protect children from any demographic of abuser, even if the incidence is less common among women.

Another problem with the old policy was that it created an incentive for local wards to staff primary with women and not men. Under the old rule, some bishops and stake presidents even went so far as to ban men from Primary callings altogether. Why would a bishopric choose to use up two male volunteers to staff one classroom when they could staff the same classroom with only one woman? Women are already barred from many callings because of the female priesthood ban, and so the last thing we needed was another excuse for bishoprics to confine us to Primary all the time at the exclusion of other opportunities.

Overall, requiring two teachers in every Primary classroom, regardless of the sex of the teacher, is a win for child safety and gender parity. I think it’s the right way to go, although it certainly creates staffing difficulties for Primary presidencies, who need to recruit a much larger number of teachers for their organization than any other organization in the ward.

The time commitment would be more reasonable if Primary teachers worked in teams of three.

For a time, my local ward experimented with calling three teachers to each Primary classroom. I co-taught a Primary class then with two other women. Each Sunday, one of us taught the lesson, one of us sat in the classroom to provide the mandatory two-deep leadership, and the third person had the day off. If one of us was sick or traveling, we had a built-in substitute available to us; we could trade with the co-teacher who was supposed to be off that week. It was a great way to bring Primary callings closer to the more flexible time commitment of other teaching callings.

Eventually, however, my ward had to abandon the experiment. Not only did it require more people, but assigning three rotating teachers per classroom was complicated by the gendered rules around who is allowed to co-teach with whom. It would have been easier for me to accept this new Primary calling if we could have added a third teacher to our team to lighten the load, but that would be impossible because half of the adults in our ward are forbidden by church policy from co-teaching with me, and the other half are forbidden from co-teaching with my husband.

Primary co-teachers must be married to each other or of the same sex.According to Primary two-deep leadership rules, two people of the same sex may co-teach Primary together.

The LDS Church has a longstanding ban on people of the opposite sex serving together as co-teachers unless they are married to each other. The Handbook states that co-teachers “could be two women, two men, or a married couple.” (Church Handbook 12.3.5)

When I need to miss church, I must find a male substitute because I am the only woman in the ward allowed to co-teach alongside my male spouse. If both of us will be gone, we can’t just group-text the substitute list and take the first two substitutes who say yes; we might end up with a man and a woman teaching together who are not married to each other, and that is not allowed.

This rule has nothing to do with preventing child abuse. In fact, the two-deep leadership policy of the Girl Scouts program requires the two adult leaders to be unmarried, or they need to add a third, unrelated co-teacher to the mix.

But what if everybody has sex?

Since requiring co-teachers of the opposite sex to be married doesn’t improve child safety, and may even make children less safe, why do we have such a rule?

If you thought, “But what if everybody has sex?” you’re thinking like a church policymaker.

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I can’t trace exactly when these gendered co-teaching restrictions began, but it appears that some version of this rule has been in place since before the feminist revolution of the 1970s brought American women back into the workplace in droves. General Authorities who retired from secular work before the ‘70s may have never worked with women, and then they went on to serve full-time in priesthood quorums where women were banned. These men had no practical experience having professional relationships with people of the opposite sex, and invoked policies and teachings based on assumptions that if men and women worked together, adultery would be rampant.

Ironically, while there should be nothing sexy about a man and a woman spending half an hour co-teaching a group of children, the ban on co-teachers of the opposite sex makes the innocent sight of a man and woman teaching a Primary class together seem tantalizing and suspicious and lurid.  

Let’s keep two-deep leadership in Primary, but let’s scrap sex-phobic co-teaching restrictions.Latter-day Saint men and women who are not married to each other are not allowed to co-teach a Primary class, just like they’re not allowed to have sex. But why does the same rule apply?

Before the two-deep leadership policy, following gendered co-teaching restrictions was easy. Put only one teacher in each classroom and no one will have a co-teacher of the opposite sex! But today, these outdated, gendered co-teaching rules interact with the two-deep leadership policy and make staffing Primary even more complicated. What’s the solution?

Implementing two-deep leadership in Primary requires a larger number of staff than ever before, but the safety of our children is worth it. On the other hand, when staffing Primary is already so challenging, why are we clinging to outdated rules that do nothing to protect children and make staffing even harder? It’s time to end gendered rules about who can co-teach with whom so we have maximum flexibility to fully staff our Primary programs.

[i] Here’s my interview with Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests (SNAP), an advocacy organization that helped expose these child sex abuse cases.

[ii] Ironically, although the rule in Primary suggested an awareness among church leaders of the higher risk of sexual abuse by male perpetrators, church policy also required one-on-one interviews of children by bishopric members who were required to be male due to the female priesthood ban. In 2018, this policy improved by allowing a child or youth to have a second adult in the room when the minor requests it, but this policy only allows for the minor being interviewed to request that a guardian be present, not vice versa. The guardian may not even be aware that an interview is taking place. (Church Handbook 31.1.4)

Making Mormon Feminist Spaces More Inclusive

I am proud to call myself a Mormon feminist. I’m an active member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, an adult convert, a mixed-race Asian American woman, and the only member in my family. I’ve always identified as a nuanced member and have been so grateful to find pockets of welcoming, inclusive spiritual spaces for me in almost everywhere I’ve lived.

Exponent has been such an important part of my spiritual life, and it hosts crucial conversations I don’t see taking place anywhere else. But as my time as the blog’s diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) rep comes to a close, I want to gently call in this community and ask that we all share the labor of making Mormon feminist platforms like this more inclusive and welcoming to marginalized voices. For example, it’s not fair to ask the very few women of color to be the only ones commenting on race. If we don’t know what we’re talking about regarding a specific marginalized community, we have an opportunity to learn from members of that community and then share what we learn with others, including amplifying those sources directly with full credit.

I’d love to see more of an effort from Exponent volunteers and readers to hear, get curious about, and engage with issues outside of their experience that may be more representative of global Mormon women and less familiar to white American women (in addition to the issues that are already being discussed that are more familiar to that audience). This could happen on commemorative days and months like Black History Month, but it should also happen year-round.

Just because many Mormon feminist spaces haven’t felt the most inclusive before doesn’t mean they need to stay that way. In Mormon 9:31, Moroni says, “Condemn me not because of mine imperfection, neither my father, because of his imperfection, neither them who have written before him; but rather give thanks unto God that he hath made manifest unto you our imperfections, that ye may learn to be more wise than we have been.” Let’s learn to be more wise than we have been.

Let’s talk about language access, the uneven distribution of the Church’s financial resources worldwide, the lack of racial diversity in leadership of an increasingly globalized church, the fear and discomfort many privileged members feel addressing issues of race, class, disability, and other marginalized identities, and more. Let’s inform ourselves and our families and our communities with what others who are different from us are saying are their priorities. Let’s explore what we can do in our callings, Sacrament talks, Sunday School lessons, temple prep and institute and seminary classes, social gatherings, social media pages, and human-to-human interactions to let everyone know diverse voices are not only tolerated but welcomed in our circles. Let’s not let the perfect be the enemy of the good when it comes to speaking up, reaching out, and advocating for others who are different from us. Let’s normalize repentance when we fall short of our values.

In Romans 15:7 Paul writes, “Wherefore receive ye one another, as Christ also received us to the glory of God.” As 2024 reaches its last days, I carry a prayer in my heart that next year and beyond we will all better receive each other, even “the other” that is different from ourselves, as Jesus receives us to the glory of God.

Jesus is Coming. Look Busy.

My dad had a couple of images hanging in his office that I remember vividly. One said “Jesus is coming. Look busy!” The other was a news cartoon with a drawing of a bearded man in sandals carrying a large sign that read “The end is not near. You must learn to cope.” These images and the conversations about them impacted how I responded to many “signs of the last days” lessons and sermons and warnings all through my life.

When I read scriptures from my own and other traditions, this is a topic that has been spoken of in every generation. Cultures all over the world have depictions in their art, and references to this concern in their history in all periods. Pop culture is full of movies, books, graphic novels, cartoons that are created around apocalyptic or last days rhetoric. And this is one of the ways I think humans are so fascinated and caught up in the idea of the end of the world, that we ignore any hopeful or valuable writings about it, in favor of dramatic, hopeless, “whatever happens will happen and there is nothing I can do”, or “I am doing everything right to exactness so I will be fine and I look forward to seeing everyone who is different from me being destroyed” view of end times. Any of these outlooks is an understandable human tendency.

Understandable, but uninspiring.

I remember reading journals and accounts from early Church History, and there were many who were sure Christ would come in their lifetimes. When I was a teenager, many of my friends shared parts of their patriarchal blessings that hinted they would see the Second Coming, or be a part of preparing for it (two very different things, in my opinion). 

This continues now on every level of the church, and in society. Some people who hang on every word from conference seem to have a filter of listening for any word that sounds like a prophecy of impending end times. So when I hear any kind of justification for building so many temples is that Jesus is coming, and we have to get more temple work done before he does, all I can think of is that phrase “Jesus is coming. Look busy!”

Personally, I find value in temple work because of the possible transformative work of symbolic ritual. Linking that to vicarious work for the dead is worthwhile for me because it is an exercise in taking someone’s name with me, speaking it causes this person to become alive for me, and I feel connected to them beyond time and space. I hope that, as their name and existence becomes real to me, and my awareness of them becomes an exercise in love, that possibility is also there for them. I have had undeniable experiences of connection through this practice. It is an exercise in at-one-ment. It is a practice in ritual that I can try to take into life. I don’t believe that anyone who has passed is being held back or restricted in any way because of ritual work that is or is not done in their name. Only a very flawed, human weakness image of god would do that. But there is a lack of education and lessons that could encourage a transformative practice of ritual, and, unfortunately, more effort to see it as a literal, transactional requirement. So the talk of making more temples to increase numbers, or to gut a live session temple in order to make it more efficient seems to suggest that we need to “look busy”. 

There is a purpose to the transactional work that satisfies a need to look busy. And it is very satisfying to turn to a constant work of checking actions off a long to-do list, and feeling as though it will somehow protect us from the disastrous warnings of destruction in an end times deluge described in scriptures and so vividly portrayed in CGI movies. But I can’t find inspiration in putting untold effort and resources into something that is only transactional. This idea that completing the “look busy” to-do list does not have the life-long invitation that the confronting, heart changing, transformational work of God like connection and at-one-ment that Christ invites me to take on. 

Yes, I have found satisfaction in completing tasks that need to be done. And there is always another list to complete, and another work to be done. There is a purpose to that. At some point, I shift from only doing work to get it done (which is fulfilling only at the level of completion), to also taking on the practice of transformation, which is fulfilling in and of the process itself. 

It is work that is always fulfilling, never fulfilled. 

This is not about the doing, or the having. It is about the being. 

This is moving on from the fear about end times. Or the need to appear busy in order to please Jesus at some future date. This is recognizing that rhetoric in every generation about transactional work is a human tendency, trying to satisfy some need to control an outcome of situation that can only be speculated. 

Jesus did not speculate on a future end time. He spoke in present tense. He did not talk of long lists of action items. He did not talk of eliminating anyone or anything through force. He spoke of destroying enemies by loving them and transforming them into friends. His great Sermon on the Mount was not about doing or having. It was about being. He elevated the way of love as the greatest commandment. His parable of the sheep and the goats frames it again as the ultimate transformation that places us in the presence of God. He constantly invites us to take on the practices that transform us to being like God, even as we continue the everyday tasks of existing. Not for some unknown future event, but now, and every day. He does not require us to “look busy”. He asks us to be love, on a level that creates new worlds by transforming this one. 

This is what inspires me. Creating heaven here, and eternal life now. 

There are many references in scriptures of signs of the end times. They all seemed to be about huge events that cannot be controlled or influenced or prevented by human efforts. And many reminders that no one can know when this will happen. I wonder if some people like to feel as though they can figure it out, similar to the satisfaction of being the first to know the outcome of a mystery novel. I remember studying a section in the Doctrine and Covenants that described many disasters preceding the second coming. And there was only one verse that talked about what was required of us in leading up to Christ coming again. Our only task is to overcome evil with good. There is no long to-do list. No required number of temples, or holdings, or tasks. 

Overcome evil with good. That is work that is always fulfilling, never fulfilled. 

What if the Second Coming was not a single event? What if it was a way of being?

Since then, I have looked at the coming of Christ as being a constant possibility in each moment. Each time anyone overcomes evil with good, the transforming love of God is here. 

I love this account from Humans of New York collection, April 4, 2014.

“One day a crazy looking homeless guy came to the door, and we were about to close the door on him, but my mother saw him and shouted: ‘Hey Eugene!’ She knew his name! Then she ran around the kitchen putting all sorts of food into tupperware, and brought it out to him. After he left, we asked my mom why she gave him so much food. She told us: ‘You never know how Jesus is going to look when he shows up.’ She was always saying that– it was a spiritual thing. Then you know what happened? Two months later, that same man showed up on the door step, clean shaven, and wearing a suit. And he had an envelope with money for my mother. ‘Ms. Rosa always believed in me,’ he said. I’ll never forget it! Eugene was his name.”

There is a tendency to dismiss the day to day experiences of Jesus coming into our lives in the form of supposedly small acts of love that overcome despair, hurt, destruction and hopelessness. There is a kind of junk food like addiction to anticipating huge dramatic events in the future and relying on other humans to be responsible for directing us. But each act of advocacy, of comforting or mourning or sharing burdens is what connects us to each other and to God. Each act of taking in the homeless, of feeding the hungry, of visiting the stranger, is doing so to God. It is an act of salvation that creates the world anew.

I turn to a pivotal experience of when I felt despair, betrayal, and the end of my world as I knew it. I stopped turning to all the tasks of doing that were common in my work and service. I just pleaded with God. Help me. Please. Help me. That was when I could hear it, feel it. “I am here. I am with you. No matter where, no matter what. I am with you.” 

There is no dramatic event that could be more powerful for me, more important, more transformative than being present to that. Being aware of God’s constant presence in the world is beyond price.

I think of the other image that was in my dad’s office – “The End is not near. You must learn to cope.” This is not some unpleasant warning. It is a promise. It is an invitation to take on transformative work of creating a new world here and now. 

I try to turn away from relying on the temporary appeal of only focusing on tasks. I don’t think I need to look busy because Jesus is coming. I am inspired by a greater call.

Jesus is here. Be present.

Come Follow Me: The Restoration of the Fulness of the Gospel of Jesus Christ “The Promised Restoration Goes Forward”

The newest proclamation issued by church leaders, The Restoration of the Fulness of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, reminds us that the restoration is ongoing through continuing revelation. As church members, we have a part to play in the restoration. Echoing the words of civil rights advocate Martin Luther King, Jr., Dieter F. Uchtdorf asks us, “Are you sleeping through the restoration?

Table of ContentsAre you sleeping through the restoration?God loves His children in every nation of the world.Don’t sleepwalk through life!Jesus Christ is our anchor. And our cornerstone.The Book of Mormon is another testament of Jesus Christ.Are you sleeping through the restoration?

We gladly declare that the promised Restoration goes forward through continuing revelation. The earth will never again be the same, as God will “gather together in one all things in Christ” (Ephesians 1:10).

With reverence and gratitude, we as His Apostles invite all to know—as we do—that the heavens are open. We affirm that God is making known His will for His beloved sons and daughters.

—The Restoration of the Fulness of the Gospel of Jesus Christ: A Bicentennial Proclamation to the World, April 2020

What does the phrase “the heavens are open” mean to you? What evidence do you see—in the Restoration proclamation, in the Church today, in the scriptures, and in your life—that the heavens truly are open?

Read an excerpt from this speech by Martin Luther King. In the speech, Dr. King retells the short story, Rip Van Winkle by Washington Irving.

Illustration of Rip Van Winkle by illustrator Thomas Nast, 1875

I’m sure that each of you has read that arresting little story from the pen of Washington Irving entitled Rip Van Winkle. One thing that we usually remember about the story of Rip Van Winkle is that he slept twenty years. But there is another point in that story which is almost always completely overlooked: it is the sign on the inn of the little town on the Hudson from which Rip went up into the mountains for his long sleep. When he went up, the sign had a picture of King George III of England. When he came down, the sign had a picture of George Washington, the first president of the United States. When Rip Van Winkle looked up at the picture of George Washington he was amazed, he was completely lost. He knew not who he was.

This incident reveals to us that the most striking thing about the story of Rip Van Winkle is not merely that he slept twenty years, but that he slept through a revolution. While he was peacefully snoring up in the mountains a revolution was taking place in the world, that would alter the face of human history. Yet Rip knew nothing about it; he was asleep.

One of the great misfortunes of history is that all too many individuals and institutions find themselves in a great period of change and yet fail to achieve the new attitudes and outlooks that the new situation demands. There is nothing more tragic than to sleep through a revolution.

—Martin Luther King, Jr., 1966 Ware Lecture: Don’t Sleep Through the Revolution, May 18, 1966

How might we sleep through a revolution during our lives?

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf spoke about Martin Luther King’s speech in General Conference in 2014. He was speaking in the Priesthood Session and directed his remarks to priesthood holders, but I believe his question is applicable to all members of the church.

Today, I would like to take the same theme and propose a question to all of us who hold God’s priesthood: are you sleeping through the restoration?

Sometimes we think of the Restoration of the gospel as something that is complete, already behind us—Joseph Smith translated the Book of Mormon, he received priesthood keys, the Church was organized. In reality, the Restoration is an ongoing process; we are living in it right now. It includes “all that God has revealed, all that He does now reveal,” and the “many great and important things” that “He will yet reveal.”

…When our time in mortality is complete, what experiences will we be able to share about our own contribution to this significant period of our lives and to the furthering of the Lord’s work? Will we be able to say that we rolled up our sleeves and labored with all our heart, might, mind, and strength? Or will we have to admit that our role was mostly that of an observer?

—Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, Are You Sleeping through the Restoration? April 2014

Why is it important to recognize that the restoration is still in progress?What is the difference between laboring in the restoration and observing the restoration?How can we contribute to the restoration?God loves His children in every nation of the world.

Let’s continue reading Martin Luther King’s speech. He goes on to quote Victor Hugo, an advocate for freedom who was exiled from France when Napolean III staged a coup and made himself emperor. Hugo is also well-known as the author of Les Miserables and the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Victor Hugo once said that there is nothing more powerful in all the world than an idea whose time has come. The idea whose time has come today is the idea of freedom and human dignity, and so allover the world we see something of freedom explosion, and this reveals to us that we are in the midst of revolutionary times. An older order is passing away and a new order is coming into being.

The great question is, what do we do when we find ourselves in such a period? Certainly the church has a great responsibility because when the church is true to its nature, it stands as a moral guardian of the community and of society. It has always been the role of the church to broaden horizons, to challenge the status quo, and to question and break mores if necessary. I’m sure that we all agree that the church has a major role to play in this period of social change. I would like to suggest some of the things that the church must continually do in order to remain awake through this revolution.

Martin Luther King, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

First, we are challenged to instill within the people of our congregations a world perspective. The world in which we live is geographically one. Now, more and more, we are challenged to make it one in terms of brotherhood. Modern man, through his scientific genius, has been able to dwarf distance and place time in chains, and our jet planes have compressed into minutes distances that once took weeks and even months…Through our scientific genius we have made of this world a neighborhood, and now through our moral and ethical commitment we must make it a brotherhood. We must live together as brothers or we will all perish together as fools. This is a fact of life. No individual can live alone, no nation can live alone.

—Martin Luther King, Jr., 1966 Ware Lecture: Don’t Sleep Through the Revolution, May 18, 1966

What makes “an idea whose time has come” so powerful? Can you think of any examples of ideas whose time has come?As church members, how can we do our part to ensure that the church meets the responsibilities of the church listed by Martin Luther King? (stand as a moral guardian, broaden horizons, challenge the status quo, question and break mores)What is a world perspective? How can we develop a world perspective in our local wards?How can we build brotherhood and sisterhood with people from across the world?

Let’s turn back to the The Restoration of the Fulness of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and read the beginning of the text.

We solemnly proclaim that God loves His children in every nation of the world. God the Father has given us the divine birth, the incomparable life, and the infinite atoning sacrifice of His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ. By the power of the Father, Jesus rose again and gained the victory over death. He is our Savior, our Exemplar, and our Redeemer.

—The Restoration of the Fulness of the Gospel of Jesus Christ: A Bicentennial Proclamation to the World, April 2020

How should knowing that “God loves His children in every nation of the world” change our perspectives and actions?In your opinion, why would a proclamation about the Restoration begin with a statement about God’s love? How has the Restoration of the gospel helped you feel God’s love?Don’t sleepwalk through life!

Dieter F. Uchtdorf quoted Paul in Are You Sleeping through the Restoration?

8 For ye were sometimes darkness, but now are ye light in the Lord: walk as children of light…

14 Wherefore he saith, Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light

15 See then that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise,

16 Redeeming the time, because the days are evil.

Ephesians 5:8, 14-16

“Redeeming the time” here means “making the most of your time.” (See Bible Hub.)

Listen to Children of Light, a song based on Ephesians 5 that was a popular camp song at LDS Young Women’s camps.

How does Christ give us light?How do we “walk as children of light”?How do we make the most of our time?

This personal experience related by Michelle D. Craig, First Counselor in the Young Women General Presidency, describes how seeking to emulate Jesus helped her stop metaphorically sleepwalking and make the most of her time.

Jesus Christ sees people deeply. He sees individuals, their needs, and who they can become. Where others saw fishermen, sinners, or publicans, Jesus saw disciples; where others saw a man possessed by devils, Jesus looked past the outward distress, acknowledged the man, and healed him.

Even in our busy lives, we can follow the example of Jesus and see individuals—their needs, their faith, their struggle, and who they can become.

As I pray for the Lord to open my eyes to see things I might not normally see, I often ask myself two questions and pay attention to the impressions that come: “What am I doing that I should stop doing?” and “What am I not doing that I should start doing?”

Months ago, during the sacrament, I asked myself these questions and was surprised by the impression that came. “Stop looking at your phone when you are waiting in lines.” Looking at my phone in lines had become almost automatic; I found it a good time to multitask, catch up on email, look at headlines, or scroll through a social media feed.

Birthday cat image courtesy of freep!x

The next morning, I found myself waiting in a long line at the store. I pulled out my phone and then remembered the impression I had received. I put my phone away and looked around. I saw an elderly gentleman in line ahead of me. His cart was empty except for a few cans of cat food. I felt a little awkward but said something really clever like, “I can see you have a cat.” He said that a storm was coming, and he did not want to be caught without cat food. We visited briefly, and then he turned to me and said, “You know, I haven’t told anyone this, but today is my birthday.” My heart melted. I wished him a happy birthday and offered a silent prayer of thanks that I had not been on my phone and missed an opportunity to truly see and connect with another person who needed it.

With all of my heart I do not want to be like the priest or the Levite on the road to Jericho—one who looks and passes by. But too often I think I am.

—Michelle D. Craig, Eyes to See, October 2020

Have you ever asked yourself “What am I doing that I should stop doing?” or “What am I not doing that I should start doing?” How did this exercise impact you?How can we be more alert to the people that surround us?Jesus Christ is our anchor. And our cornerstone.

The writers of The Restoration of the Fulness of the Gospel of Jesus Christ used a mixed metaphor to describe Jesus Christ as both an anchor and a cornerstone.

This Church is anchored in the perfect life of its chief cornerstone, Jesus Christ, and in His infinite Atonement and literal Resurrection.

The Restoration of the Fulness of the Gospel of Jesus Christ: A Bicentennial Proclamation to the World, April 2020

It is interesting that the writers of the proclamation use an anchor as a metaphor for Jesus Christ, because in the scriptures, hope is described as an anchor.

19 Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast, and which entereth into that within the veil

Hebrews 6:19

Wherefore, whoso believeth in God might with surety hope for a better world, yea, even a place at the right hand of God, which hope cometh of faith, maketh an anchor to the souls of men, which would make them sure and steadfast, always abounding in good works, being led to glorify God.

Ether 12:4

What is the relationship between hope and Jesus Christ?How is Jesus Christ like an anchor?Detail from Ensign, January 2016

Paul describes Jesus Christ as the cornerstone of the church (not to be confused with the keystone, a favorite metaphor of Joseph Smith and Ezra Taft Benson for the Book of Mormon.)

What it is: A cornerstone is the first stone placed upon a building’s foundation, in a corner of the structure.

What it does: A cornerstone bears much of the weight of a building’s outer structure, and it connects and unites two of the walls. After it is placed, all other stones and their angles are measured out from it.

—The Cornerstone, Ensign, January 2016

Paul’s metaphor of the cornerstone:

Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellow citizens with the saints, and of the household of God;

And are built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief cornerstone;

In whom all the building fitly framed together groweth unto an holy temple in the Lord:

In whom ye also are builded together for an habitation of God through the Spirit.

Ephesians 2:19-22

How is Christ like a cornerstone?As members of the church, how do we fit into Paul’s metaphor? What is Paul teaching us about our place in the restoration?The Book of Mormon is another testament of Jesus Christ.

As a companion scripture to the Bible, the Book of Mormon testifies that all human beings are sons and daughters of a loving Father in Heaven, that He has a divine plan for our lives, and that His Son, Jesus Christ, speaks today as well as in days of old.

—The Restoration of the Fulness of the Gospel of Jesus Christ: A Bicentennial Proclamation to the World, April 2020

As we have spent the past year studying the Book of Mormon, what scriptures, stories or themes have stood out to you?

Guest Post: A Nativity Reclaimed — Navigating Faith, Family, and Change

by Ginger Hanson

Creating Christmas is often a mother’s role. Although it’s a lot of work, I look forward to many aspects of this tradition. One element I particularly enjoy is the nostalgia and stirring of memories that come with handling decorations I only see once a year.

This year, as I went through the familiar routine of retrieving the boxes from the back of the storage closet, my hands landed on the oldest box. I recognized it by feel alone. The cardboard was fragile and limp from years of opening and closing. I drew it to my body and inhaled, it smelled intimately familiar, like old newspapers. I had inherited the box when I married.  Inside was a hand-painted nativity set crafted by my mother, who passed away when I was just 4 years old. It was one of the few possessions I had that connected me to her memory. Setting out this treasure was always my favorite part of the decorating process.

This year, however, the moment I laid my hands on that box, I was confronted with the painful reality that this artifact had become complicated for me.

I’ve long had a complex and nuanced relationship with my faith. But I had consciously evaluated the pros and cons of remaining an active participant and I decided that I wanted to stay fully engaged. Over the decades, I’ve held many callings, devoting countless hours to magnifying them with the greatest care and responsibility. Being a Latter-day Saint was one of the deepest parts of my identity, something I treasured because it connected me with my family and ancestors.

In recent years, however, my relationship with my faith had grown more complicated. One of my children had come out as transgender, and despite my continued desire to participate in my faith community, my child’s well-being was what was most important to me. Participating fully in church activities began to negatively affect my child’s well-being, and my family and I were actively navigating how best to balance church participation with ensuring my child’s happiness and health.

Then, in August 2024, the church implemented the transgender policy of exclusion. According to the policy, my child could no longer be allowed to use the bathroom in a church building without having someone check it first and stand outside to ensure no one else entered while my child was inside. My child would no longer be allowed to attend overnight activities such as camp, trek, or FSY like their peers. They would need to be escorted off the premises each night and stay with me or their father at our own expense. Church records would need to reflect my child’s birth name and gender, despite those being legally changed, and many people only knowing my child by their current name and gender. Additionally, my child would not be allowed to serve in gender-specific callings, or in any teaching, or child-related role, which make up the majority of callings within the church. The stipulation that transgender individuals cannot work with children specifically was hurtful as it reflects a long-held prejudice—that LGBTQ+ people are sexual predators. This policy sent a clear message to my child and our family: we were no longer welcome or even acceptable in our church community. After years of dedicated service to the church, I felt a deep sense of betrayal. My child was being treated as a leper. I could no longer attend an institution that was actively sending such a harmful message to my child and other transgender individuals.

One by one, I carried each box of Christmas decorations up from the basement and stacked them in the living room. The last box was the tattered one containing my mother’s nativity. I hesitated. Should I even bring it upstairs? Did I want to display it? Would looking at it every day bring me joy, or would it be a painful reminder of the rejection we had felt from our faith community? I decided to delay the decision. I would bring the box upstairs and perhaps, through the ritual of setting out the decorations, an answer would come to me.

One by one, I opened the boxes and carefully placed each item in its traditional spot, contemplating its meaning. At last, all the decorations were set out—except for the nativity. I glanced at the empty space atop the entertainment center. This central spot was typically reserved for the nativity, a treasured reminder to be centered on the example of Christ. I burst into tears and collapsed on the couch, overwhelmed with emotion. It was clear that, for now, displaying the nativity was not a source of joy for me. Still conflicted, I pushed the box under the table and distracted myself with another task.

For the next few days, whenever my mind was unoccupied, I wrestled with whether my mother’s nativity could still be a part of my Christmas. Would the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints ever be part of my life again? Had it ever really stopped being a part of my life? Did I still value the example of Jesus? Did I still want Jesus to be a part of my spiritual life? These are complicated questions, and I haven’t arrived at a satisfying answer yet. But eventually, I realized that what I truly valued was my mother’s legacy and her place in my life. I didn’t want this hurtful policy to take anything else precious from me.

I opened the box and began setting out the pieces, taking in the craftsmanship of each piece and imagining my mother’s hand painting them. Looking at it now, I feel empowered by this choice. It’s a symbol of what I can hold on to, something I’ve chosen to keep, despite the pain of what I have had to let go.

Ginger Hanson is a wife, mother, runner, cyclist. She has a PhD in Industrial/Organizational psychology, and is an Associate Professor at the Johns Hopkins School of Nursing were she is a biostatistician on many research projects, and teaches research method and statistics.

Walking with Mary, the mother of Jesus

I used to read “The Infinite Atonement” every December. The book brought the Savior so close to heart and mind.

In 2018, living in a country and a time in which I saw very little Christ but a whole lot of Christian nationalism, and having learned more about the author, now an emeritus general authority, I couldn’t stomach the book. Christ was gone from it from me.

That year, I created my own advent calendar. Each night, I spent time with a woman from the scriptures. Most of them were from the New Testament; I wanted to feel closer to Jesus Christ by walking with the women who walked with him. But I deeply love the women of the Hebrew Bible, and I included a number of them as well. Each night I read the scripture story about a different woman—dozens of verses for Mary Magdalene, two chapters for Deborah, but more often than not, having to settle for a verse or two—and then followed a writing prompt: Why did Anna never remarrY Who was Peter’s mother-in-law? How is the daughters of Zelophehad’s fight against injustice akin to the Savior?

Mostly, though, I just imagined their experiences, their thoughts, their emotions, and I wrote their stories. This is before I learned about midrash: an ancient spiritual practice that adds on, rewrites, fleshes out context of what is in the scriptures. It is a practice common among feminist biblical scholars today, both Jewish and Christian. It’s how we write women back into the scriptures after the authors, editors and interpreters wrote them out over the course of millennia.

I returned to those writings this month and read the story of Mary, the mother of Jesus. I wrote it early in my deconstruction—before I knew that’s what I was doing, before I knew what it even was. I simply knew that I wanted a place in these stories. It’s not what I would write today. Today, my midrash is about women taking up space, defying expectations, refusing to be silenced, refusing to be put into a box. I would probably write a different story about Mary today. But this one still spoke to me.

Mary, the mother of JesusIn Coptic Cairo, the Church of St. Sergius, or Church of Abu Serga, has this tiny chapel built over a cave where the holy family stayed for three months after fleeing from Herod’s soldiers. Photo credit: Heidi Toth

I remember the day an angel came and told me I would bear the Son of God. He called me, a girl of no means or authority, blessed among women. I nodded, swallowed, asked a few questions. I was scared, and I didn’t understand then just how I was to go forward.

I remember the day Elisabeth greeted me with joy in her eyes. She knew. The miracle baby in her womb recognized the tiny combination of humanity and divinity who lived in me. She also called me blessed among women, and she praised the child inside me. I was happy, though I didn’t understand why I was chosen or how I could do this. I didn’t have Elisabeth’s strength.

I remember the day my husband-to-be saw my growing belly and the light left his eyes. I stayed up all night, worrying what this would mean. He came to me the next day and said he’d seen an angel, who had explained everything. We would get married immediately and he would treat this child as his own. I was filled with joy; now the path forward seemed easier. I didn’t understand how hard raising any child would be, much less a child destined to be the Savior.

I remember the day we arrived in Bethlehem to be counted and the moment I knew he was coming. We had nowhere to go, but finally Joseph found us a stable. I was just happy to be off the donkey, in from the chill and somewhere familiar to a little country girl. My baby was born quietly, privately, with the dewy eyes of cattle bearing witness and a goat chewing on his blanket. We called him Jesus, and I nestled him close to me in that building that, through sacrifice, pain and loss, had become as sacred as the temple. I held him close and loved him. I didn’t understand how I could love someone this much, nor that one day, as much as I loved him, he would love me more.

I remember the day, more than a week after his birth, when Joseph and I took Jesus to the temple to be circumcised and take his place in the Abrahamic covenant. As we sacrificed two doves, I smiled inwardly; the others in the temple didn’t realize this boy was born not to be part of the covenant but to fulfill the covenant. One man did; he pulled us aside and quietly worshipped Jesus and praised God for allowing him to meet the Savior. One woman did; she gave thanks out loud to anyone who could hear about his presence before us. But no one else did. They didn’t understand, I told myself. It was true. I also didn’t understand just how he would fulfill the covenant of which I’d known all my life.

Decoration in Al Dayoura, the Hanging Church, formally the Church of the Virgin Mary, an Orthodox Church in Coptic Cairo, Egypt. Photo credit: Heidi Toth

I remember the day, on a return trip to the temple, when I discovered Jesus was not with the group. I panicked as I searched the caravan. He was a studious, sober, mature 12-year-old, but he was still only 12 and the desert was a harsh place. The last place anyone remembered seeing him was the temple. We’d left a day ago. Had we lost him in the desert? Joseph and I rushed back to the temple. There was my boy, conversing with scholars and scribes about the nuances of the scriptures. They listened and questioned him as they did their equal. The fever of stress and worry I’d felt before broke, leaving me flooded with relief and annoyed that he hadn’t left with us, causing all this extra work. I chided him gently, reminding him that his father and I were worried. He got up to leave, as perfectly obedient as ever, but not before looking me in the eyes and saying, “Know ye not that I must be about my Father’s business?” I understood that he meant Heavenly Father, whose genes somehow made up half of this tall, brown-skinned boy standing in front of me. I didn’t understand how he could be both.

I remember the day of the wedding in Cana, when the family ran out of wine early in the evening. I knew by now that Jesus was indeed his father’s child; that he could command the seas, heal the sick and perform all sorts of miracles. He hadn’t done so publicly, but it is impossible for a loving mother to not notice this about her son, knowing what I did about his father. I asked him to provide wine. He reminded me that his father’s power was to be used for higher purposes, but agreed to help. I directed a servant to do whatever he asked. The wine that he created from water was the best wine served that night. I didn’t understand what that night, that first miracle, was setting off for us all.

I remember so many days and nights, following him, listening to him speak, seeing him forgive sins. I remember the words I heard people yell at him in anger, the labels that scared me. I remember the faces of people who were touched by his incredible life. I remember occasionally seeing a touch of myself in him: my nose, my long eyelashes, my little trick of touching a hand to show someone I cared. I didn’t understand—no one did, not even, for a long time, Jesus—what he had been called to Earth to do. How much it would cost. How much it would hurt. How much all who loved him would suffer.

I remember the day I stood at the foot of a cross on Golgotha. Jesus was dying. He had been tortured and then nailed to a tree and he was dying publicly, shamefully on a hill surrounded by soldiers who taunted him. I thought of the day I discovered I would carry the son of God and how I didn’t understand what meant, and all those times when I simply forgot that this boy at my kitchen table, doing chores, playing with his brothers, even speaking in the temple, was actually the son of God, who had come to save the world. I didn’t know then what that responsibility meant. I knew now, and now, more than anything in the world, as I watched my son suffer and die, I wish I didn’t know what it meant. He had come to save the world, and the world was killing him.

Read more in Four Marys.

The Christmas Gifts I wish I could give all Latter Day Saint Women

Something you need, Something you want, and Something to read, edition

Photo by Clint Patterson on Unsplash

As I’ve gotten older I’ve gotten more on board with having a Christmas list that follows the popular plan of “something you need, something you want, and something to read.” It’s in that spirit that I share the Christmas Gifts I wish I could give to all Latter Day Saint women.

Something you need:

Visit any ward house early on a Saturday morning and you’ll often find a family (or if you’re lucky a bunch of ward members) sweaty faced and working hard to clean the church building. I grew up in the church before the days of “every member a custodian.” The church custodian was a paid position which offered employment but also made life so much easier for Latter Day Saints in my opinion. We always knew who to call in an emergency (and could reach them) but there were many other benefits as well. Having an official custodian meant we could rely on the building getting opened for activities which prevented the frantic calls in the parking lot juggling one’s own children while managing the eager children waiting to get inside to begin their activity. There was always someone who understood the utilities and equipment in the church building as well. The priesthood holding custodian also fulfilled the need of having a priesthood leader on site during activities. Having an official custodian also meant nobody was put in charge of rounding up members to clean each week and following up (and getting their numbers blocked haha). Most significantly to me, having a church custodian allowed families to have more family time on Saturdays. 

Photo by Ashwini Chaudhary(Monty) on Unsplash

I’ve heard the argument that cleaning the church building together strengthens the family. In my experience, I couldn’t hear my kids over the roar of the vacuum and we’d all have to pretty much split up to be able to get things done and still have time to clean our own home, run errands, get to activities, etc. One such morning I was busy emptying classroom garbage cans when my 9 and 3 year old came running to me. “Mom! There’s a baby in a dark room all alone and crying!” they screamed. I followed them to a room off the kitchen where, sure enough, a baby sat red faced and wailing. I felt so much sympathy for the baby and especially for the mother. I’m sure she couldn’t hear that her baby had woken up over the roar of the vacuuming and I felt sad about how she was forced to try to balance her covenants, desire to serve, and her family structure determining parental duties.

We’re currently existing in an environment that often requires parents to work full time jobs and sometimes multiple jobs. Weeks go by mournfully quickly and together time feels like a rare luxury for families in and out of the church. Latter Day Saints have a lot required of them. There are multiple meetings or activities during the week, there are duties of callings (often multiple callings) that need to be fulfilled, there’s the Sunday block meetings and priesthood meetings which often leave Latter Day Saint women the duties of getting children ready for church and home from church, alone. Factor in personal and family scripture study, seminary, temple visits and holy moly, what time do you have left? The church would do well to go back to having paid custodians. With rising unemployment and families stretched so thin for time together, having a church custodian again is a need. I wish this were a Christmas present I could give you.

Photo by David Trinks on Unsplash

Something you want:

When my spouse was newly out of law school we were living on 1 wage of $15 an hour. We had one child who was 4 years old and money was obviously very tight. We were new in the ward and I was eager to serve and make friends. Our ward was almost exclusively very young families and it seemed like babies were being born weekly. The condos in the area were affectionately referred to as “bunny hutches” which now I find creepy and problematic. Anyway, early on I started receiving calls to provide family meals to for those who had recently given birth. I’d agree and then provide the meal that I had planned for my own family. Then a day came when I was asked to make a meal for a family of 6 children and 2 adults. I knew it was impossible for my budget and frankly also impossible for my cooking abilities. I told the Relief Society President I could only provide a dessert and then when I got off the phone I felt enormous shame. 

It is kind to provide meals to families who’ve recently had a birth. With the billions in the bank can’t there be a “new baby” line item to provide a budget for a few meals? It seems like a reasonable acknowledgement for following the commandment to “multiply and replenish the earth.” This would provide food for families without it coming from families giving up their own meal or breaking the grocery budget so that’s why I wish I could give this gift to all Latter Day Saints women. 

Photo by Alexis Brown on Unsplash

Something to read:

I desire for all Latter Day Saint women to have new reading material. There’s only so many times you can teach the same lessons (almost all of which were written by men) in redundant manuals before people are crying from boredom rather than the spirit. Some new revelations would be great. There are plenty of things Latter Day Saint women are still anxiously waiting to learn about such as Heavenly Mother, the geography of Kolob, heck I bet everyone would settle for knowing what the freak these orb drones are that everyone’s talking about.

So there you have it. Those are the Christmas gifts I wish I could give all Latter Day Saint women.

Merry Christmas, folks! 

***Do you have your own thoughts to share? We would love to hear from you! Submit a guest post and let us share your voice on Exponent II.***

Sacred Music Sunday: O Little Town of Bethlehem

Today marks the fourth Sunday of Advent, and it’s only a few days until Christmas. Christmas felt like a magical time of year when I was a child, but it’s sometimes difficult to find that same magic as an adult. Maybe it’s the pressure of work, bills, and housekeeping. Maybe it’s because it’s 80 degrees outside instead of a winter chill. Maybe it’s because our society reserves wonder for children.

The scriptures teach us to become as a child. I’m going to try to recapture some of that childlike wonder as I celebrate the birth of the Child who saved us all. He was born in a manger, in the little town of Bethlehem.

Merry Christmas!