Bryce Moore's Blog, page 252

Guns, 3D Printers, and the Future

Take a second and watch this documentary on a group of people dedicated to making it possible to print automatic rifles at home. (Well, 30 minutes, not a second--but still, check some of it out.)







This is real. It's not made up. It's not science fiction. You can download the gun files and print them out on a 3D printer in your living room. No, they're not great yet. Not as usable as actual guns made out of metal, for example, but you've got people across the world working on this, and if there's one thing the internet should have taught us so far, is that there is real strength in numbers. The internet's a hive mind, and when people use it to team up and accomplish something, they're usually successful.



Part of me can't help but be excited by this. I mean, they're printing real things at home. Cheaply. People are estimating that within a decade, 3D printers are going to be all over the place. It's like the replicator in Star Trek. This is real science fictiony stuff, and it's actually happening.



But a big part of me is terrified of this. Giving free access to anyone with an internet connection and a soon-to-be-readily-available 3D printer, and suddenly they can print weapons at home? It's one thing to have responsible gun owners take care of their weapons. It's another to have it possible for an enterprising 8 year old to print out a gun one evening and then show it off at school the next day. Yes, you'd need bullets. But bullets aren't as closely regulated.



I see documentaries like this, and I'm just amazed at how fast the world is changing. How that rate of change just seems to be accelerating. We have these new inventions that come out, and we take them for granted. Fast internet. Facebook. Netflix. iPads. Smartphones.



Folks, back in 1995 (less than 20 years ago) the internet looked like this:







Where are we going to be 18 years from now? These are fundamental changes that aren't just going to affect the music industry or the book industry or corporations. They're going to affect the way society operates. I have no idea how the legal system will keep up. We can't even get Congress to pass a balanced budget.



I'm excited and scared at the same time, and I have no idea where it's all going to end up.



And that's my doom and gloom for you this fine Thursday.

Turning It Down from Eleven

I have a problem. I know it's a problem, and yet I have a hard time with the problem anyway. (I suppose that's pretty much the definition of a problem, but there you have it.)



I overdo things.



I'll come up with a plan or an idea, and it'll be a great idea. And then I'll come up with something that makes that great idea or plan even better. And so I add that to the plan. And then there's another idea that makes it all even more supreme and wonderfulicious. So that gets added.



Rinse and repeat.



The problem is that while any one of these ideas is fantastic in and of itself, when you throw them all together, it's sort of like a great pepperoni pizza topped with the best chocolate ice cream you've ever eaten, plus a ground up copy of your favorite video game.



Not really greater than the sum of its parts.



And I do this is many many different parts of my life. There's my writing, where my good ideas can spiral out of control and overwhelm a book. There are my hobbies, where I can let one thing that I'm interested in just dominate the rest of my life, and then suddenly abandon it to focus on something else. There are my goals, which I can pile higher and higher until I feel overwhelmed. Each one is a worthy goal, but I have a hard time saying "no" to some of them.



It's one thing to recognize this, of course. It's entirely different to do something about it. Some of this is just the status quo, and that's okay. I mean, hobbies are there for me to enjoy. If I'm enjoying a different one more than an old one, what's the harm? But other things are more problematic. With goals, I've had to make a conscientious decision to keep them in check. I've been doing it long enough now, that I'm able to see when things are getting to be too much. (Even if it sometimes takes me a bit too long to recognize that still.)



With writing? It's still a work in progress. I think I need to do a better job of having an outline and sticking to it. I never have a problem of having too few ideas. If a book ends up being too light, I can always add more things in. Removing ideas once they've wormed their way through an entire plot, however--that's difficult to do.



Anyway. Today's post is just to say that sometimes it's easy for me to overdo things. I need to look at that trait in myself, and do my best to hold it in check when it needs to be.



Unfortunately, the only way to do that is to practice, and that means getting it wrong sometimes.


Oh well.

Diet Update: Week 5

This diet. It's no fun. Don't get me wrong--I'm seeing results and all, but this is five weeks gone now, and that's fantastic. But then I look at what I have ahead of me. Five more months. Blech. When I'm dieting, it's easier for me to get grumpy and feel out of sorts, and I don't like that one bit.



But them's the breaks.



Five weeks gone. I have yet to get sick since I started dieting and exercising. Of course, each time I type that, I wonder if I'm not jinxing myself, but I'm just calling it like it is. Surprisingly, Denisa and both the kids have gotten fairly sick in those five weeks, so the fact that I didn't get sick--while not 100% proof of results--is certainly noteworthy. Typically, I'm like the canary in the coal mine. Not this time.



I'm still exercising regularly. Lately I've taken to just doing step aerobics on my stairs. Exciting, I know. But I can talk to Denisa while I'm doing it, or I can watch something on my iPad. Not sure if I can read--though I might put that to the test. It certainly gets the blood flowing, although I'm finding it's harder and harder to get out of breath. I suppose that's a good thing, right?



But you just care about weight loss. Who cares how I feel. How much did I lose?



I'm down to 204.8 this morning. 1.2 pounds lost since last week, 9.2 pounds lost total. That's an average of 1.84 pounds a week, which is .44 pounds per week faster than what I'd planned on. No arguments here!



I do *feel* thinner, and I'm certainly used to being hungry now. Blogging about it each week has been surprisingly helpful. It increases the accountability, and for me, that's motivation enough, it seems. Good thing, because I made a double batch of brownie pudding cake last Wednesday, and I only ate a single bite. When this diet's over, I'm filling the tub with chocolate pudding and just eating till I can't eats no more.



Not really.



That would be disgusting.



Anyway--that's where I am this week. Slow and steady wins the something something.

Bragging Parent Time: TRC's First Story

TRC has been working on writing a short story for the last week or two, and he finished it over the weekend--illustrations and all. I might be a tad biased, but I think he did a fantastic job, and I wanted to share it all with you. You'll probably have to click on the pictures to embiggen them and be able to read the text.



Great job, TRC!

Looking for Some Good "Disney Horror" Recommendations

Something Wicked This Way Comes was a favorite movie of mine when I was younger. I'd classify it as "Disney Horror"--creepy movies that aren't really straight up horror. They're toned down for a younger audience. But they're still very creepy. Some other movies that come to mind like this would be Watcher in the Woods and maybe even the animated Sleepy Hollow bit.



For my next project, I'm thinking about doing something more Middle Grade than Young Adult. GET CUPID was longer than most books, and I'd like something shorter this time, just for a change of pace. The idea I have in mind definitely has some Disney Horror in it, though I'd also like it to be a bit quirkier--have humor laced throughout it. Maybe more of a Time Bandits feel, but with the quirky not quite dialed up to eleven.



Notice a trend?



I've come to realize that when I write books, I often think of them as movies before I get into them. I've started doing this consciously for a few reasons. First off, I like to immerse myself in some of the genre before I start writing it. I can read books, and I do pick a few just to get a sense for the literary side of things (in this case, I'll definitely re-read The House with a Clock in its Walls, and I'm thinking of checking out a bit or RL Stine just to see what he was up to), but I can watch a lot of movies very quickly. And I can latch on to themes and tones from the films I like and then translate those into the written word in a manner that hopefully hasn't been done before. In other words, if I look at a bunch of books, then I end up falling into the same paths that those books broke. With film, I can do something and not worry so much about how it was done before.



I'm not sure if the end result is much different, but it makes a difference to me, and that's what matters, right?



So with GET CUPID, I watched the whole Oceans Eleven series multiple times, plus some other caper movies, like The Hot Rock, Burn Notice (certain episodes), Topkapi--that sort of thing. I'd like to do the same sort of thing now, so I'm turning to you.



What are some good "Disney Horror" movies you've liked? I'm particularly looking for things that are more modern than Something Wicked. Note that I don't mean it has to be done by Disney. I just mean horror for the 8-12 year old set. Ideally with some quirky humor, but that's not a must. I have some ideas, but I like hearing what other people suggest, too.



So come on--hit me with your favorite scary movies when you were younger. No outright horror. Yes, The Shining features a young boy, but that movie ain't for eight year olds, IMHO.


Thanks in advance!

On Sexing Degus and the Related Challenges

You'll all recall that about a year ago, we bought TRC a couple of pets for his birthday. Cute little Degus, which are a Chilean rat. (Rats become cute once they're not from your country. I imagine American rats are all the rage in Chile.) They were brothers, and only six weeks old. The kids have had a blast with them. The degus live in a cage by our television, and I like to think they're the most pop-culture-infused Chilean rats in the world. Sometimes they run on their wheel. Other times they eat their house. It's a fun filled existence for two bachelors.




Sunday, TRC and I were playing some Magic in the living room, enjoying a restful afternoon. TRC looks up at the cage and says, "Dad! There are baby degus in there!"




I admit it: I discounted his statement immediately. "You must have seen a reflection," I said. And TRC took my word for it. We went back to playing. Degu brothers, after all, do not make little degu babies.




Two minutes later, TRC repeated: "I'm serious. There are baby degus in there!"




Now I'm alarmed. While we don't have baby degus in our house, we do have mice. My first instinct was that somehow a freeloader mouse had moved in with the degus. Disgusting. So I turn around and head to the cage to see . . . 




A baby degu. Slightly bigger than a quarter. Scurrying around. Then another. And another.




The brothers ain't brothers.




So then of course I was focused on what in the world we were going to do. Do degus eat their young? (I didn't want THAT to happen in front of my kids.) They don't. Phew! Do the babies need anything special? No. Just extra food for mom. What were we going to do with them? We called the pet store where we got them, and they said they'd be happy to take them off our hands. So now we don't need to worry about degu disposal. Apparently the little critters are tremendously popular, and I can see why. They're cute, cuddle, pretty neat, not very smelly, and they live to be 8 or 9 years old.




So all's well that ends well. The degu babies are living quite happily so far. I'm hoping they don't catch a chill or die--our house isn't the warmest in the winter. But we've covered their cage with a blanket to keep the warmth in. There are at least three, but we're not sure yet if there are any more. And we'll have them for six weeks or so before we send them off to the store, where they can go on to have happy lives with other people. I imagine we'll keep the degu "brothers" together. They're friends, and I don't want to split them up.




And next time they have babies, I won't be nearly so shocked . . . 

Vodnik Won a Westchester Fiction Award!

I know I'm not supposed to look at reviews. Everybody tells me that, and yet I can't really look away. I hop over to Goodreads once or twice a month to see if anyone's had anything new to say, and I google the book once a week or so to see if anything's been posted about the book. Of course, maybe I've been doing this because the response has been so good. If all I got were negative reviews, I'd probably give up checking after a while.



The thing is, I know reviews are just opinions, and opinions aren't authoritative for anyone other than the one giving that opinion. But I write reviews of other books and movies, and they're something I'm generally interested in on the whole. When I go to buy something, user reviews factor heavily into my final choice. In fact, these days, I'm much less likely to buy something in a brick and mortar store, just because I can't check reviews before I buy. (I really need to get a smartphone and join the 21st century. I just haven't yet . . .)



So since I like other people's reviews, it only stands to reason that I like to peek in at my own reviews now and then. There have been a few one and two star reviews here and there, but after 101 ratings on Goodreads, Vodnik is still pulling a very pleasing 4.02 rating. Most people who read the book like it, and that makes me happy, although I know it's setting myself up to be unhappy when most people *don't* like a book I write.



That said, I was floored when Vodnik was selected as one of the 10 Westchester Fiction Award winners. Not that I don't think Vodnik is awesome and totally deserving of any award out there. :-) But rather, just being on anyone's "Top 10 for 2013" list is incredible. There are so many great books out there. (I have a hard time picking a top ten for anything. It's so final.) I'm very grateful and honored the awards committee loved the book that much.



I know as a writer (and in life in general, for that matter), we're often looking for external validation, no matter how hard we might try not to. (At least, that's true for me.) We've finished a book. Great. But we'll know we've "made it" when we have an agent. We've got an agent. Great. But we'll know we've "made it" when we're published. We're published. Great. But we'll know we've "made it" when __________. You can insert any arbitrary marker there, and no matter what it is, there'll always be something bigger and better to stretch for.



It's good to stretch. It helps us do better, I think. But I've said it before on this blog, and I'll say it again. Writing isn't really about a destination. If you treat it like that, it's like looking for the end of the rainbow. It's always out of reach. It's a journey, and there are mile markers along the way, but you're driving because you love the ride and enjoy the process.



I'll say this much, though. This was a very nice mile marker to drive by. Many thanks again to the awards committee. It's a great honor. And thanks to everyone else for all the wonderful messages of congratulations you've been sending. A happy day, indeed!

Diet Update: Week 4

Hard to believe I'm already up to week 4 of this thing. And this was a week that had three big food hurdles for me. First up? Going to the university cafeteria for an all you can eat dinner.



I'm terrible at all you can eat places. Typically, I put that to the test. It's like a challenge. "All I can eat, huh? We'll see about that!" And I go to town. All the chocolate milk I can drink? Unlimited ice cream? Endless pizza? Bryce heaven. What's worse is that I'm also a cheapskate, which means if I pay for something, I want to get as much out of it as possible. So I was going to go to a place and try to not only resist my natural inclination to binge, but also get less bang for my buck. On purpose.



How'd I do?



I only drank water. I had a huge salad. A tuna-melt, some stewed veggies, a cup of rice, a cookie, and some ice cream. And a piece of pizza. The good news is that it was all only 1000 calories, give or take. At least by my calculations. The bad news was that I stepped on the scale the next day and had put on .6 pounds. So I didn't emerge unscathed.



Up next? Halusky. This is my favorite Slovak meal, and it consists of potato dumplings, feta cheese, and bacon. I can eat it by the truckload. And I had no idea how many calories was in it. So I did all sorts of work to figure that out. Weighed the uncooked potatoes and flour before they went into the dumplings. Added the eggs. Weighed the whole thing once it was done. (End result? About a calorie per gram, which is really quite reasonable.) I really watched myself like a hawk, and it went great. I even lost weight that day.



Finally, yesterday was Denisa's birthday, and we went out to eat. I had no idea what the calorie count was of anything, so I just ate very lightly. That was yesterday, and it turned out I did great.



So I'm feeling quite good about how I did this week.



Current weight, as of this morning? 206. (Though I did weigh myself a bit late. I slept in. So that might mean it's a bit low for where I really am.) It also means that I've now lost 8 pounds--1.8 this week. Fantastic!



It's great to see that total keep getting higher. In other "good news" departments, the rest of the family got sick this week. Okay--that's bad news. But the good news is that I haven't gotten sick myself. Yet. We'll see if I succumb eventually. I'm still feeling quite good, and doing a fairly good job of exercising each day, as well. So . . . yay!



We'll see how this week goes. Thanks for the support, all!

NCAA Bracket Challenge: Win a Vodnik Hat!

That's right, folks. March Madness is here, and I'm doing my yearly blog challenge. I've set up a group on ESPN for you to sign up and make an entry. ESPN takes care of the rest. The winner at the end wins . . . a Vodnik hat! It's like my Vodnik t-shirts, except the death dude is white on a black hat, and (alas) it doesn't glow in the dark.



You have until Wednesday evening to enter. (Technically, Thursday before the games start, but you don't want to wait that long, do you?) Knowledge of basketball is really unnecessary. Often, the people who know the least, win the pool.



Some come on over and sign up! It's free! And you can be at the cutting edge of fashion statements for the next year . . .



Here's the relevant info:



Get in the action now:
http://games.espn.go.com/tournament-c...

On mobile:
http://games.espn.go.com/tournament-c...

Group: Bryce's Ramblings
Password: vodnik

Sunday Talk: On Faith (and Exercise)

As promised, here's the talk I gave on Sunday. Or would have given, had I had time to give it. I ended up with only about 5 minutes to speak, and the talk was planned for 15, so I ended up tossing most of it out the window and just winging it. Kind of sad, because I was quite happy with the talk the way I wrote it, but I think all still turned out okay.



It's a bit chattier than my normal talk "voice," which is chattier than my normal blog voice. So . . . yeah. Anyway--here you go.





On Faith (and Exercise)

Good morning, brothers and sisters. When Brother Danala called me Wednesday to ask if I’d be willing to give a talk, I was surprised at how cheerfully I accepted. Some of this probably has to do with the fact that it’s been a while since I last gave a talk, and I’d already had a logjam of ideas kicking around in my head for what I wanted to talk about. Assuming the topic played nice, of course. And when Brother Danala told me the topic, everything fit into place. It was a single word, and he said I could pretty much go anywhere with it that I wanted to. Free rein. Oh yeah.

To introduce my topic to you, allow me to read a few scriptures. D&C 44:2—“And it shall come to pass, that inasmuch as they are faithful, and exercise faith in me, I will pour out my Spirit upon them in the day that they assemble themselves together.”

1 Nephi 7:12—“Yea, and how is it that ye have forgotten that the Lord is able to do all things according to his will, for the children of men, if it so be that they exercise faith in him? Wherefore, let us be faithful to him.”

Moroni 7:25—“Wherefore, by the ministering of angels, and by every word which proceeded forth out of the mouth of God, men began to exercise faith in Christ; and thus by faith, they did lay hold upon every good thing; and thus it was until the coming of Christ.”

As I’m sure you’ve all guessed by now, my topic today is exercise.

This should come as no surprise to anyone following my blog or watching my feed on Twitter or Facebook. A few weeks ago, I was in bed. Home from church. Sick again. And suddenly I had the thought, “You really ought to start dieting and exercising. Then you might not get sick as much.” I accepted it as divine revelation (because honestly, I just don’t have those kinds of thoughts occur to me naturally.) So I’ve started dieting, and I’ve even started exercising a half hour each day. Most days.

And while I don’t think I’ve been doing it quite long enough to really draw any long term conclusions from it, I think I can safely say that first, exercise is much less fun that I wish it would be. I do not look forward to exercise. Second, exercise is typically even worse when I’m doing it than I thought it would be before I started. I can’t wait to be done. But third, I typically feel great after I’m done exercising. I’m not sure yet why this is. It’s possible my body really likes exercise. However, I’m also sure that if I started pounding my thumb with a hammer over and over, I’d feel great as soon as I stopped doing that, too.

So. Exercise. It’s an interesting word to pair with faith, and when I came across those scriptures on exercising faith, I immediately wondered why it would be phrased like that. Remember, in my current mindset, exercise is a necessary evil. How would it have anything to do with faith?

So to find out more about that, I did what any self-respecting author librarian would do: I turned to the dictionary. Not just your standard Funkin Wagnalls, either. No—I went to the granddaddy of all dictionaries. The Oxford English Dictionary. The OED. 21 volumes of word definition goodness. And go figure—there are an awful lot of definitions for exercise. It’s a verb that means (among other things) “to put into action,” “to work,” “to make practical use of,” “to train by practice,” “to drill,” “to celebrate,” “to fulfill,” or to—you know—exercise. Jumping jacks. That sort of thing. It’s also a noun that means (among other things) “the state of being in active operation,” “recreative employment,” “an act of private worship,” “an act of public worship,” “habitual occupation,” “disciplinary suffering,” “task prescribed for the sake of attaining proficiency,” or—you know—the act of exercising. Exertion of the muscles, limbs, and bodily powers—specifically to improve health.

I could take some time to focus on each one of these definitions and find a connection between it and our faith, but I’ll just pick a few highlights. I don’t think I’m alone in getting bored at church sometimes. In fact, statistically speaking, I’d be willing to guess about half of you are bored, asleep, or checking your smartphones right this second. Why in the world do we need to come to church each week? Three hours? What’s up with that? I could read the lessons at home. Maybe watch a general conference talk or two. Come in once a month for a dose of Sacrament, and then be just fine the rest of the time.

But we’re supposed to exercise faith. To train by practice or drill. And if you’ve ever trained by practice, you know that there can be a lot of repetition before you master something. Playing an instrument, you play scales. You play the same song over and over and over until you have it mastered. And even then, you keep playing, because you realize that if you stop practicing, you’ll forget it. That skill will fade away. Likewise, you can be the world’s best sprinter, but if you stop practicing every day and start scarfing down pork rinds and Mountain Dew, it won’t be long before you’re just another couch potato.

Exercise faith. That means physically do things that require faith. Read the scriptures. Go to church. Pray. Live the gospel. Not because it’s going to be a different experience each time you do it, but because only by doing those fundamentals can you hope to be prepared for the times in your life when faith isn’t just nice, it’s a necessity.

We exercise our armies in times of peace so that they’re ready for times of war, because we recognized that times of war will come. Spiritually speaking, Satan would have us either believe that times of spiritual crisis will never pop up, or that we’re already sufficiently prepared to deal with them. 2 Nephi 2:20 For behold, at that day shall he rage in the hearts of the children of men, and stir them up to anger against that which is good.

21 And others will he pacify, and lull them away into carnal security, that they will say: All is well in Zion; yea, Zion prospereth, all is well—and thus the devil cheateth their souls, and leadeth them away carefully down to hell.

22 And behold, others he flattereth away, and telleth them there is no hell; and he saith unto them: I am no devil, for there is none—and thus he whispereth in their ears, until he grasps them with his awful chains, from whence there is no deliverance.

If you’re not actively exercising your faith, you’re sitting on the spiritual couch with your pork rinds and Mountain Dew. And when you find yourself needing to run a sprint, it’ll be much too late for any exercise.

Another definition. To celebrate. I really liked that one, because it reminded me that while I might view normal exercise as a chore, exercising faith is ideally supposed to be a pleasurable experience. At least some of the time. And it is in many ways. I do my best to involve God in the big and little decisions of my life. I recognize that sometimes decisions are inconsequential. It really might not matter if I drive to Bangor through Waterville or Newport. But it also might. I might get in an accident, or get stuck in a traffic jam and miss something I was supposed to do. Or I might get there early and miss meeting someone who was going to walk by a few minutes later.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not suggesting we go around praying over every little decision. Should I eat Lucky Charms this morning or Count Chocula? Rather, I’m suggesting that exercising faith means trying to leave oneself open to spiritual promptings at all times. Living in a way that you’ll be able to recognize those promptings when they come. Praying over the big decisions certainly. I believe there is a best possible choice to many decisions. Where to move. What job to take. By exercising my faith, I believe that I have a way to know which choice will be best for me. Maybe not make things the easiest, but present me with the experiences I need to become the best Bryce I can be. Without that faith, I have no idea how I’d go through life.

Another definition. Disciplinary suffering. I just talked about how great faith can make your life. Let’s talk a bit about the suffering. Compared to some of my non-Mormon friends, I think I’ve got plenty of that going on. Ten percent of my income, gone. Hours of my Sunday, poof. Do you realize that the non-believers get essentially two Saturdays each week? Twice the amount of Saturdays? The concept boggles my mind. Church callings eat up time. Take you away from your family. There’s a whole long list of things you can’t do. Can’t smoke, can’t drink, can’t sleep around, can’t lie, can’t cheat, can’t drink coffee. Can’t do a whole lot of the things pop culture says I should be able to, all because I’m exercising faith.

But we don’t exercise faith because we’re masochistic. We do it because we understand you have to have the disciplinary suffering so you can have the celebration. While it’s true that I miss out on much of what the rest of the world might deem important, it’s also true that every single thing in my life that’s most valuable to me—that brings me the most joy—can be traced back to my exercising faith. My marriage. My children. The comfort I feel in times of trouble. It’s all connected. I miss out on the things pop culture says are important and great, but I also miss out on the consequences that accompany them. I’ve never had a hangover, for example.

Because I know that sometimes author librarians can get too bogged down in academia, I also took a peek at Merriam-Webster to see what he had down for the definition. He went with the really basic “anything requiring physical effort.” And I really like that definition in terms of this topic. Exercising faith requires physical effort. It requires action. You don’t exercise faith by sitting back and thinking about faith all day. You need to be doing something, or your faith isn’t going to do you much good.

We exercise faith by coming to church every week. By praying each day. By reading the scriptures. All those good Sunday School answers. But I believe it’s just as important to exercise faith by living it. Applying the Gospel in our lives. Being kind to others. Forgiving. Being generous. Honest. Caring. It’s a package deal. Our goal is to be well-rounded followers of Christ.

One of the things I learned while writing this talk is that, while we’re often attracted to the stories of the extraordinary as it relates to faith, none of these would be possible without the day to day exercise of faith necessary to make it strong. To make it living.

Today is selection Sunday. For the next few weeks, we’ll be able to watch college basketball teams compete for a national championship. Hundreds of young men and women will be able to show off the fruits of years and years of consistent exercise. Practicing foul shots. Learning strategy. Watching video tape. Here’s a newsflash for you: I am not competing in this year’s tournament. I’ll be doing my typical brackets, of course. But you won’t see me on the court.

I’ve played basketball a bit. I’m familiar with the rules. But I haven’t practiced the sport to the degree necessary to excel at, as any Howatt who’s played against me can no doubt attest to.

If faith is something that must be exercised, then it stands to reason that those who exercise it more frequently will be able to see its effects more distinctly in their lives. This is confirmed when you look at some of the members in our church who exercise their faith most often: the missionaries.

A story comes to mind that happened to me in Leipzig, Germany. I was serving with Reed Nielsen at the time—who incidentally went on to marry Eva Williamson, who grew up in this ward, I believe. We were tracting, going from one apartment complex to another, and having little in the way of success. Typical for Germany.

It was late, we needed to catch a streetcar home, and it was going to come in about five minutes. I was tired. Sick of rejection. And yet I saw another apartment building, and the door was screaming for someone to knock on it. Not literally, but I felt very strongly that if I knocked on that door, we’d find someone to teach.

So I did what any missionary worth his salt would do. Told Elder Nielsen, and the two of us went over to the door. You don’t actually knock on doors in Germany. Not in cities, at least. You ring door buzzers and make your pitch from downstairs to someone you can’t even see. If you’re lucky, someone lets you in, and then you knock on the rest of the doors personally. It’s much easier to reject someone you don’t even have to look at than it is to do it when they’re standing right in front of you.

In any case, this door was different. It opened up for us. Someone hadn’t locked it. (Let me stress that going in the building wasn’t illegal. We were allowed to do it. It’s just the buildings were normally locked.) Either way, I took this as a very good sign. This building was the one. Someone was waiting for us right then. We just had to knock and they’d be all excited to meet us.

We trudged to the top of the complex and worked our way down. At each door, I was more and more confident that we’d be let in. It just felt so right—a feeling I rarely got doing doors. But the doors went by, and only two or three even had anyone home. The rest didn’t answer. We got to the last door, and this was it. I could already picture the story in my mind, “And at the last door to the building, they let us in, and it was wonderful.”

No one was there.

We left the building, dejected. I just didn’t understand. It had been so obvious. We were supposed to tract that building. We were going to find someone if we did. For sure. But we didn’t.

We’d missed our streetcar, so we had to wait for the next one. We sat at the stop, fairly depressed. No one was even on the street. No one at the stop to talk to. Just us and our failure. The next streetcar pulled up. It stopped with a door right in front of us. The door opened, and there sitting in the car—directly in front of me—was one of the few members in the city. He was talking to a friend of his about the gospel, and he’d been having trouble explaining it all to him.

We found someone to teach. Just not in the building. But if we hadn’t gone to that one more building, we never would have found that person to teach. That’s what exercising faith is all about to me. Experiences like those prove to me it is real. And that’s not the only time something like that has happened to me, on a mission or off. Exercising faith is real. It really does work.

So why don’t we all just pattern our lives after the lives of missionaries? If the purpose of this life is to get as much faith as possible, wouldn’t it make sense to sell everything off and completely devote ourselves to God? We could start the Farmington Monastery. The Woodstacking Friars. Our Lady of Casserole Dishes.

But God doesn’t ask us to separate ourselves from the world. We’re supposed to live in it, but not of it. John 15:19 “If ye were of the world, the world would love his own: but because ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hateth you.” As much as I love missionaries, they are about as far removed from living in the world as possible. No monthly bills to worry about. No jobs. No family duties. They’re able to devote themselves wholly to their faith. We can’t.

How does that make sense? We’re supposed to develop faith. Exercise it. And often in this religion at least, it seems we tend to believe that if something’s worth doing, it’s worth overdoing. So shouldn’t we all strive to become spiritual giants? Work on exercising our faith until we’re ready for an ESPN2-esque spiritual body building competition?

I think it’s because that’s not what God wants from us. We’re supposed to be well rounded. This isn’t as easy to see when you look at stories from ancient religious history. John the Baptist. Moses. Noah. Nephi. Abinadi. Because they’re so far removed from us in many ways, it’s easier to picture them as being wholly devoted to faith faith and nothing but faith all day long. But if we look at some of the church leaders from the recent past, we start being able to see people living their lives while living the gospel.

An endurance runner might be able to go for miles and miles without stopping for a rest, but if he’s suddenly put into a weightlifting competition, there’s no way he’d win. Likewise, a weightlifter might not make it to the end of a marathon. Specialization brings intense mastery of a single skill, but it’s at the expense of so much else.

I believe our primary goal is to learn how to exercise practical faith. Faith in our everyday lives, because that’s precisely where we need the most help. Faith is here to help us, not to help God. God doesn’t need any help. But us? We need all the help we can get. I know I do, at least. Just look at the world around us. Political turmoil. Mass shootings. War abroad. Dogs and cats. Living together. Mass hysteria. It’s no wonder that people question the existence of God. How could an all-powerful, all-knowing being let this sort of thing happen?

Of course, we know the answer to that. He lets it happen because he gives us our free agency. Humanity makes most of that happen. And for the things we don’t cause on our own—say earthquakes or tornadoes—we also know that we aren’t here on this earth to have it comfy and cozy. We’re here to be challenged. To learn. To grow. To exercise our faith.

I remember when I was on my mission, I was very focused on finding out how to get more faith. How to make it stronger. I’m not saying I’m an expert at it today by any means, but I do think I have a handle on the basics. You get more faith the same way you get any acquired skill. You practice. You exercise. And the more you do that, the stronger your faith becomes.

So the next time you’re sitting there bored in church, or bemoaning another activity, or generally feeling worn out by living the gospel, remember—it’s all exercise. None of that effort is wasted, and it will all be worth it when the day comes that you suddenly need your faith for much more than Wednesday night activities. I know this from experience, and I leave you my testimony of the power and reality of faith, and do it in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.