The Second Coming

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world…
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all convictions, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand …

WB Yeats

It is hard to read Yeats now without feeling like he is not describing his world, but ours.

There are moments—more frequent lately—when the world feels like it is coming apart at the seams. Not all at once, but slowly, unevenly, in ways that leave you unsettled. You scroll the news, you hear conversations, you feel the quiet anxiety in a room, and something in you begins to reach for meaning.

And almost instinctively, the thought comes:

Maybe this is it.
Maybe this is what we were told would happen.
Maybe the Second Coming is near.

I’ve noticed how natural that move is for me. How quickly I move from asking what is happening in the world to asking what it means for the end of the world.

The Foodland Question

Years ago, when I was living in Laie, I had a small, ordinary experience that has stayed with me far longer than I expected.

We only had one grocery store—Foodland—and so it became the place where you ran into everyone. One afternoon I was there, standing in line, when someone approached me. They had heard that I had just returned from the Middle East, where I had been working with Israelis and Palestinians.

They were kind, genuinely curious, but also a little confused. After a bit of conversation, they asked, almost offhandedly, “Don’t you believe what the scriptures say is going to happen there?”

And then, more directly, “Why are you trying to fix something God is going to fix?”

I didn’t have a clean answer in the moment. But the question lingered and it kept coming. And over time I realized: it wasn’t really about the Middle East. It was about how we understand eschatology—our beliefs about how the story of the world ends—and what that understanding does to the way we live now.

Apocalypse or Zion?

That question eventually became part of a ten year research project and academic article I co-wrote, trying to understand how Latter-day Saints actually think about the end times—not just in theory, but in the way those beliefs shape their lives. What we found was surprisingly clear. People tended to fall, often without realizing it, into one of three ways of imagining the future.

Some believed that Jesus would come and set everything right, that ultimately the world’s problems would be resolved through divine intervention.

Others believed that we are called to build Zion now, that the work of creating a more just and peaceful world rests largely in our hands.

And then there were many who held both ideas at once, even if they didn’t have language for it—that somehow God and humanity are meant to work together in bringing about that future — what we called the Dual Action Model.

What mattered was not simply which view people held, but how it shaped their lives. Those who leaned more toward divine action often focused on personal righteousness, inner peace, and family life. Those who leaned toward human action were more likely to engage social issues, to work toward justice, to try to change systems and structures. And those who held both—who lived in that tension—tended to integrate these things in a way that felt more complete.

It began to seem that the question of the Second Coming is not just about what will happen at the end of time, but about what kind of discipleship we practice in the present.

Because when we overemphasize one side, something important gets lost. If we believe that God will fix everything, it can become easy, almost without noticing, to step back from the work of engaging a broken world. We can begin to see suffering as inevitable, even necessary, part of a divine timeline. On the other hand, if we believe that everything depends on us, we can quickly find ourselves overwhelmed by the scale of the problems we are trying to solve. The weight becomes too much, and burnout is never far behind.

But if we hold both together—if we believe that God is at work and that we are called to act—we begin to inhabit a different kind of faith.

One that is both grounded and active.
Hopeful, but not naïve.
Engaged, but not frantic.

The Jesus We Expect Says More About Us Than Him

I think part of our struggle comes from how we imagine the end itself. For many, the book of Revelation has become a kind of script for a violent conclusion, a vision of Jesus returning as a conquering king who finally defeats his enemies through force. That image has taken deep root in Christian imagination, often in ways we don’t fully recognize.

But when I return to the Gospels, I see something very different:

I see a Jesus who refuses violence even when it costs him everything.
I see a Jesus who would rather die than kill.
I see a Jesus who reveals that love, not force, is the way God confronts evil.

To then imagine that same Jesus returning at the end of history as a violent warrior, finishing what he began through destruction, seems to me to miss something essential. It suggests that the cross was not the final word, that love was not enough, that in the end God must rely on the very tools Jesus refused.

And yet, the imagery in Revelation itself offers another way of seeing. Jesus appears with a robe already dipped in blood—not the blood of his enemies, but his own. The armies stand behind him, but they do not fight. He conquers, as the Gospel of John suggests through the “sword” of the Word. Jesus conquers, as Revelation says, “by the blood of the Lamb”—not by taking life, but by giving it.

This is not the victory of domination, but of transformation.

When we begin to see it this way, the question shifts. The Second Coming is no longer primarily about escape from a collapsing world, or even about the dramatic resolution of history. It becomes about restoration—the bringing together again of what was fractured. Heaven and earth, separated in Genesis, reunited at the end. God dwelling with humanity, not removing us from creation, but renewing it.

And yet, in moments when the world feels like it is unraveling, we often find ourselves asking a different set of questions. Writes Reverend Benjamin Cremer:

“Instead of asking: “Who is suffering, and how can we help?”

We start asking: “Is this the moment Jesus returns?”

Instead of grieving the loss of life, we begin interpreting it.

Instead of resisting violence, we risk normalizing it. And in some cases, even welcoming it with excitement.”

We look for signs. We look for patterns. Sometimes, without meaning to, we forget what Jesus called us to do in anticipation of what he is going to do.

This is where I find Martin Luther King Jr.’s insight so helpful. He wrote that there are two common ways people think about overcoming evil: either we believe humanity must solve it through its own power, or we believe we must simply wait for God to act. But the real answer, he argued, is found somewhere else—in a partnership, a “marvelous unity of purpose,” where divine grace and human action come together.

“How can evil be cast out? There are two ideas that men have usually held about the way evil is to be eliminated and the world saved. One idea is that man must remove evil with his own power. It is the strange conviction that if man goes on thinking, inventing and governing he will be able to conquer by his own strength and ingenuity the nagging forces of evil. Just give people a fair chance, and a decent education, and they will save themselves …

The other idea concerning the way evil is to be removed from the world says that man must wait on God to do everything. Man must lie still, purely submissive, and God in his good time will redeem the world …

What, then, is the answer to life’s perplexing question? How can evll be cast out of our individual and collective lives? If the world is not to be purified by God alone or by man alone, who, then, will do it?

The answer to this question is found in an idea which is distinctly different from the two we have been discussing. It is not either God or man that will bring about the world’s salvation. It is both man and God, made one by a marvelous unity of purpose, by an overflowing love ad the free gift of himself on the part of God.”

Joseph Smith’s vision of Zion echoes this same idea. The work of building a peaceful, just society is not something God does alone, nor something we accomplish on our own. It is something we are invited into, as co-workers, participating in a work that is both divine and deeply human.

“And now, I ask, how righteousness and truth are going to sweep the earth as with a flood? I will answer. Men and angels are to be co-workers in bringing to pass this great work, even the building up of Zion.”

Over time, I have come to see the Second Coming less as a date to anticipate and more as a way of living to embody. It asks something of us now. Not prediction, but preparation. Not withdrawal, but engagement. Not certainty about outcomes, but faithfulness in action.

We act because it is right, not because we are guaranteed success. We work toward peace even when the evidence suggests that peace is fragile, temporary, or beyond our reach. We cultivate inner stillness, tend to our relationships, and step into the larger work of healing a broken world, trusting that somehow, in ways we cannot fully see, these things are connected.

I have come to believe something simple, though not easy: the outcome belongs to God, but the action belongs to us.

And so we plant gardens, even when we are not sure how long we will remain. We go into the deep without knowing what we will find. We build, knowing that what we begin may not be completed in our lifetime.

There is a line from the Mishnah that captures this tension better than anything I know:

Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief
Do justly, now.
Love mercy, now.
Walk humbly, now.
You are not obligated to complete the work
but neither are you free to abandon it.

Finding Jesus in the “Last Days”

And maybe that is what it means to live in the last days.

Not scanning the horizon for signs.
Not waiting for the world to collapse.
Not preparing for escape.

But refusing to abandon a suffering world.

Refusing to let violence have the final word.
Refusing to believe that things fall apart beyond repair.

It is choosing, again and again, to step toward what is broken.

To love when it would be easier to withdraw.
To build when it would be easier to predict destruction.
To act without any guarantee that what you do will succeed.

Because this is the paradox at the heart of the gospel:

We live in a dangerous world. And we follow a dangerous Jesus.

Dangerous not because he brings violence— but because he refuses it.

Dangerous because Jesus dismantles the logic we rely on. He tells us to love our enemies when we would rather defeat them. To forgive when we would rather remember. To turn the other cheek when every instinct in us says to strike back.

Jesus disrupts our need for control. He calls us out of passivity. He refuses to let us justify either withdrawal or domination. He is dangerous to every system built on fear, power, and exclusion. And Jesus can feel dangerous to us—
because he does not leave us the option of staying comfortable.

Jesus calls us to enter the very places we would rather avoid. To bear what feels unbearable. To love in ways that feel impossible.

And that kind of love is dangerous too.

Dangerous because it refuses to wait.
Dangerous because it refuses to hate.
Dangerous because it refuses to give up on a world God has not given up on.

This is dangerous love.

The kind that acts without guarantees.
The kind that builds without certainty.
The kind that stays when others walk away.

Because in the end, the question is not whether the world is falling apart. The question is who we will become in the midst of it.

People who watch?
Or people who love?

People who predict the end?
Or people who help prepare the world for something new?

Because the Second Coming is not just something we are waiting for. It is something we are meant to live.

Right here.
Right now.
In a dangerous world.
With a dangerous Jesus.
Practicing a dangerous love.

Pioneering Paradox Podcast

I just did an entire podcast on this research and this topic with Pioneering Paradoxes if you really want to dig into eschatology, the second coming, and Jesus at the end of the world.

You can listen to it on Spotify …

Or on Apple Podcasts

Peace Picnic!

Come join me, Patrick Mason of Waymakers, Casey McFarland of Pioneering Paradoxes and the folks at That’s Church for a Peace Picnic at Von Baer Park in Providence, Utah on Saturday May 9 from 5 to 8 pm.

We wil have a potluck, some games and a cool, interactive discussion of my book Seventy Times Seven. I’d love to see you there.

Pope Envy?

Peggy Fletcher Stack wrote a really interesting piece in Sunday’s Salt Lake Tribune asking why LDS leaders haven’t been more outspoken, like the Pope, about the war in Iran.

She includes several quotes from me in the article including this one:

Preserving the church’s “religious freedom to do the things it needs to do could be at the top of President Oaks’ mind right now,” Ford says. “But that doesn’t release us from wrestling with the issue and making moral decisions ourselves.”

Any close observer of the global faith in the past few years, he says, would have to recognize that its leaders have repeatedly urged members toward “the personal practice of peace.”

That, Ford says, is the “most impactful thing we can do.”

Highly recommend the entire story.

Help Sustain The Waymaker

A year ago I pressed “publish” on the first post of The Waymaker without really knowing what it would become.

I only knew the kind of space I hoped it might create.

A space where we could talk honestly about conflict—not just the conflicts in the headlines, but the ones in our families, our communities, our faith traditions, and sometimes inside our own hearts. A space where we could wrestle with what it really means to practice reconciliation in a divided world. A space where stories, spiritual traditions, and the everyday work of peacemaking might help us imagine another way forward.

If this writing has been meaningful to you, consider becoming a paid supporter.

It’s $5 per month or $50 per year. And I’m adding some perks to paid subscribers!

Read more about how you can help us sustain this work …

As Easter approaches, we turn our hearts again to the final days of Jesus’s life—the love, suffering, sacrifice, and restoration that define this sacred season.

The following is an excerpt from Seventy Times Seven. It reflects on what it means to follow Christ not just in belief, but in how we love, forgive, and make peace. Easter is not only about what Jesus did—it is about the invitation he extends to each of us:

Come, follow me.

Peacemakers Needed

Come, follow me.
(Matthew 4:19)

Perfecting the practice of 70x7 can take a lifetime. It isn’t easy. We will stumble. Despite our devotion to being disciples, we sometimes fall short of the standard Jesus set for us.

When we fail to be all that we aspire to be, we may start feeling like the problem isn’t with Jesus’s way. Instead, “I’m the problem. It’s me.” We believe we are too weak, too flawed, too insignificant to partner with Jesus on his mission of restoration. We may feel deeply unworthy to accept the call.

We find the eyes of our hearts dark. We discover that we have held onto our collection of stones, and when provoked, we still throw them as hard as ever. We catch ourselves turning away from embracing those who have hurt or failed to see us the way Jesus sees us. We may not even want restoration with some folks, holding out hope that heaven may be reserved for only those we like or those who have shown us kindness along the way.

Jesus lifts the downtrodden, succors the weak, and promises to help us see each other and ourselves as he sees us. By doing so, he ends the cycle of revenge, remorse, and anger that threatens to consume us and creates a path toward understanding that bridges the divisions among us so we can unify. The conflicts hurting our lives today can be transformed by loving our way to each other.

God is love. And love always, ALWAYS wins. That love applies equally to you as it does to me and everyone else.

Are you a sinner? Have you made horrible mistakes? Do you feel far from Jesus’s grace? Jesus can work with that.

Jesus spent most of his time with sinners, the poor, the sick, and the broken-hearted. He came to help those who were bruised or felt captive. The least of these were his favorite people. Many of them ended up being his most devout followers.

Can we follow Jesus and love our enemies?

Can we put down the stones we use to blame and justify hurting ourselves and each other and instead join with Jesus in his great work of salvation?

Can we have the courage to open our arms and embrace Jesus and those with whom we disagree?

Can we embrace his love and embrace each other?

Can we put aside our fears and partner with Jesus in his ministry of restoration?

Jesus calls us in again and again. “Come, follow me.”

After Jesus is almost thrown off a cliff in Nazareth, he journeys to the Sea of Galilee, searching for disciples willing to lose their lives to find them. Jesus begins his movement not by recruiting prominent religious or community leaders but by calling fishermen.

As Jesus was walking beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon called Peter and his brother Andrew. They were casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen. “Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will send you out to fish for people.” At once, they left their nets and followed him. (Matthew 4:18–20)

Jesus’s admonition to “come follow me” or some variant is repeated multiple times in the New Testament. Some, like Peter and Andrew, respond immediately. Others feel overwhelmed and walk away. Jesus’s invitation doesn’t come with caveats. It doesn’t change when the path becomes rocky or the situation becomes perilous. “Whoever wants to be my disciple,” Jesus declared, “must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it” (Matthew 16:24–25).

When Paul prayed that the eyes of our hearts might be “enlightened,” he did so “in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you” (Ephesians 1:18).

Having the eyes of our hearts enlightened allows us to see ourselves the way Jesus sees us.

With the eyes of our hearts enlightened, we feel his love, and our selfish desires dissipate.

We no longer yearn to throw stones at others or ourselves.

We quit running from conflict and, instead, embrace others and ourselves.

We join Jesus in his mission to restore us, heal us, deliver us from captivity, recover our sight, and set us free when we are bruised.

We join Jesus in calling for and making Jubilee happen at home, in our communities, and in the world.

We yearn to lift, serve, succor, and love as Jesus does, even when we feel inadequate. We feel called to replace enmity with empathy.

When we are in conflict, we must both receive and give the gift of Jesus’s love. He gave us his one beautiful life as a perfect model.

While visiting Jerusalem, I decided to walk from where Christians commemorate the Last Supper to Gethsemane. I walked approximately twenty minutes down a steep hill. A modern road takes tour buses from one part of the old city to the other. I traveled the much older dirt road that slinks through the valley until it reaches the Mount of Olives.

Walking down the windy, dusty path, I was startled when I reached the bottom to see the road’s name. It was the old Jericho Road. Whether this was the actual path Jesus took that night is impossible to know. But seeing the sign left me with a powerful impression: on the night of atonement in Gethsemane, Jesus was living the parable of the Samaritan in Luke 10. Jesus was walking the Jericho Road.

This time, no “certain man” was lying on the side of the road. Now, humanity lay on the wayside—beaten and bruised by heartbreak and sin. The cost of stopping and helping us would be unimaginably painful. The Samaritan risked being attacked by thieves. Jesus was about to take upon him the sins of the world and bleed from every pore.

The last week of Jesus’s life in Jerusalem is a love story—one of sacrifice and suffering, brokenness and healing, forgiveness and renewal. In this love story, all things can become new in this life and the world.

The love Jesus models for us is universal, altruistic, and dangerous. Jesus shows us how to become co-creators with God to improve this world so that we may gain entrance into the next. John captures this story in three words: “God is love” (1 John 4:16).

In the final few days of his mortal ministry, Jesus gave the world his model for peace. He offered us a way out of the hatred, pain, and sorrow endemic in his time and ours. He calls us to become peacemakers despite our propensity to destructive conflict. He believes we can change. Do we believe him?

The Upper Room

Jerusalem was thronged with pilgrim crowds. Many were waiting in anxious anticipation of Jesus. Jesus’s fame and talk that he might be the Messiah had spread so far that the crowd began working themselves up into a frenzy before he reached the city’s gates.

Onlookers spread garments and cast palm fronds, carpeting the way for the passage of a King. As he approached, they shouted: “Blessed be the King that cometh in the name of the Lord. Peace in Heaven, Glory in the Highest!” (John 12:13 KJV). They cried, “Hosanna,” which translates to “save us now.”

Jesus could hear the commotion far from the walls of the city. A weeping Jesus entered the gates of the city to the throng (Luke 19:41). Jesus’s opponents grew more urgent, saying, “The whole world has gone after him!” (John 12:19). The scene made the religious authorities of Jerusalem so uncomfortable that they asked Jesus to calm down the masses. Jesus responded, “If they keep quiet, the stones will cry out” (Luke 19:40).

Despite the jubilation, Jesus’s heart continued to be heavy. “Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour” (John 12:27).

After Jesus entered Jerusalem, the apostles prepared for the annual Passover feast. As Jesus entered the feast, the apostles were bickering among themselves. After three years of spending every waking moment by Jesus’s side, many of his teachings still had not sunk deeply into their hearts. Jesus had taught, “The greatest among you will be your servant” (Matthew 23:11). Yet, they argued about who among them was the greatest (Luke 22:24).

Jesus’s response? He knelt and washed the feet of his apostles. Jesus taught them that if he could lower himself to wash the feet of his followers, they should wash one another’s feet: “No servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.” (John 13:16–17).

After Jesus washed their feet, he blessed the first sacrament (Matthew 26:26–29). The sacramental prayer Jesus taught in the Americas clarifies the symbolism of the ritual. When we eat the bread, we promise to remember the body of Jesus Christ and take upon us his name. We commit to keep the commandments that he has given us. If we do so, we are promised that we may always have his spirit with us (Moroni 4:3).

After administering the sacrament, Jesus preached his last sermon. With his agony at Gethsemane and the cross at Calvary hours away, Jesus took his last opportunity with his apostles to explain the true nature of his mortal ministry.

A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another. (John 13:34–35)

It would be the first of four times that Jesus would repeat this phrase that night. In his last gathering with his apostles, he tried to distill his ministry so that even a child could understand. Once again, Jesus was calling for us to love each other. There was little doubt that everyone left in the room had a deep love for Jesus. Jesus reminded them, however, that loving the least of these is essential to our continued love of Jesus.

Even while anticipating Gethsemane, Jesus lived what he preached. That evening, he had every right to be caught up in his problems and pain. But instead of turning inward to be consumed by despair, he turned outward and comforted his apostles. He reassured them and told them he would prepare a place for them. When Thomas confessed that he was confused, Jesus told him, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6).

Jesus then promised that though he would leave his apostles’ earthly presence, his spirit would always be with them (John 14:15–18, 26). He promised his followers the most elusive of all things in this world: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid” (John 14:27).

It’s not until we understand the context of the events of that wonderful and terrible night that the true meaning of his words becomes clear. Most definitions of peace focus on the external. Security, justice, and the lack of violence or conflict are often considered preconditions to peace. Peace, many believe, comes from the outside. This is the passive peace most of us want. Instead, Jesus promises internal peace. True peace, according to Jesus, is rooted in our hearts. But it doesn’t stop there. Inner peace moves outward. Peace is more than a feeling. Peace is a verb.

After these words of comfort, Jesus talks about the responsibility that comes with the blessings he imparts. If we follow the commandment to love one another, we will have joy and all that the Father has (John 15:9–12). And what does that love look like? Jesus explains, “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command” (John 15:13–14). To me, the ultimate manifestation of “as I have loved you” is practicing 70 × 7.

Here, Jesus teaches us the power of his way of transforming conflict. The peace that Jesus offers comes through living as he did, loving as he loved. Peace comes from loving one another, the stranger, and our enemies as he loved us. This is the peace we need.

After he was done teaching, Jesus knelt with his apostles and prayed to his Father: “I have made you known to them, and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them” (John 17:26). From there, Jesus would depart toward Gethsemane.

As he reached the Garden and knelt, I wonder if he had a moment when he asked, “What will happen to me if I stop to help them?” Perhaps it was when he prayed, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me” (Luke 22:42). Then Jesus reversed the question. He asked, “What will happen to them if I do not help them?” He prayed, “Not my will, but thine be done” (KJV). God couldn’t take this cup from Jesus. It was his alone to drink.

So, Jesus asked his closest friends to help him, to stay awake and wait with him in his suffering. In his agony, Jesus teaches us about the critical role of the Messiah and how to suffer. He tells his apostles that he needs them to be present and suffer with him.

They fall asleep.

I wonder if there’s a lesson for all of us in that vulnerable moment in Gethsemane between Jesus and his apostles. There are some troubles in life that we can’t take away. When we need to drink from the bitter cup, all we can do is ask for help to bear it. When others need to drink from the cup, we can be the ones who stay awake and help others through it. We can be with the least of these, side by side, mourning with those who mourn, suffering with those who suffer, comforting those who need comfort (see Mosiah 18:10–12).

Sometimes, mourning with those who mourn and suffering with those who suffer is all God will do. Sometimes, it’s all that we can do. But that succoring means something. Mutual suffering ties us together. Selfless love is the antidote to everything wrong with us and the world today.

We weep. We hold hands. We love one another exactly as he loved us. We suffer. We succor. We stay awake. We stay connected to each other in joy and heartache. We find our lives when we lose them in the lives of others. And somehow, the suffering together heals the pain, brings peace, and makes everything new.

Writes philosopher Terry Warner:

How can we ever throw off these bands and chains and make things better in this world? May I suggest again: in Jesus’s way. Rather than resisting evil, He suffered. Rather than compromise, He suffered. Rather than rejecting any of us—though every possible provocation to do so was laid upon Him—He suffered. He outlasted all these provocations. He conquered the forcefulness of force. He defeated all the pressures that pushed humanity toward enmity and discord.

The Savior seems to say to us: “Come unto me, and I will give you such assurance and hope and strength that you cannot be taken hostage by anyone who seems to do you harm. I will liberate you into love. And then you will no longer give anyone cause to resent or fear you. Instead, they will respond to the love which I have bestowed upon you. By abiding in me, you will do much good, bear much fruit.”

How then shall we come unto Christ, so that everything will be different from what it could possibly be otherwise? By sacrificing all taking of offense. By giving up criticism, impatience, and contempt, for they accuse the sisters and brothers for whom Christ died. . . . By renouncing war in every form and proclaiming peace.

In Gethsemane, Jesus performed the most audacious act in human history. He bled from every pore for our sins (Mosiah 3:7, Luke 22:43-44). He took upon himself the infirmities, trials, sufferings, and sicknesses of humankind to succor us completely (Alma 7:11–12). He suffered everything for our comfort and peace. While we can never do for others what Jesus did, we can follow his example in transforming conflict with others.

In the next twenty-four hours, Jesus was betrayed by friends, arrested, sentenced to death, whipped and beaten, crowned with thorns, and forced to carry his cross. On Golgotha, he died a gruesome death while soldiers gambled for his clothes at the foot of the cross.

Three days later, he rose again, having rolled away the ultimate stone of disconnection and death. Jesus gave us all of that. It’s ours. Can we embrace him the way he embraces us?

As I Have Loved You

In 2005, I received the most harrowing phone call of my life.

“Your dad has pneumonia,” a nurse said. “His lungs are filled with fluid. There is not much we can do. You need to get here to say goodbye.”^[iii]

I rushed to the airport and endured a torturous flight. I prayed to see him and tell him I loved him one last time. One of his closest friends picked me up, and we sped through town to the hospital. I rushed up the stairs to his side. My father was weak and barely conscious. It took several minutes to rouse him. When he awoke, he smiled weakly and clasped my hand. He asked me softly, “What took you so long?” And then smiled again. He whispered he loved me. I told him I loved him. He didn’t pass away, however. He kept hanging on. He lost consciousness for the next twelve hours but refused to die. Every breath he took was a tortured one. The doctors were baffled. Why wouldn’t he pass?

After everyone else in the family went home to shower the next day, my father squeezed my hand, opened his eyes, looked at me, and whispered, “I’m scared. I’ve made so many mistakes in my life. I’ve hurt so many people. I’m not sure God wants me back.” My father was afraid to pass on, fearful that the mistakes that he had made in his life would lead to God’s rejection in the next life.

My dad had been giving gifts and saving people his whole life. He cared for the least of these, forgave, and embraced his enemies. Still, he was uncertain whether Jesus loved him. He questioned whether he had been “enough.” I hear the phrase “not enough” a lot in conflict.

“The apology wasn’t enough.”

“They didn’t do enough.”

“I’ll never be enough.”

When we focus on “enough,” we aren’t asking the right question. We never get to peace by waiting for others or ourselves to be enough. Life is not about whether we are enough. Jesus is enough. He is enough for you, me, and our enemies.

I told him, “Don’t be afraid, Dad.” He held my hand and uttered the word “Blessing.”

I had given blessings many times to my sick children and even occasionally to strangers. I had never given one to my father. I knew it was the most important one I’d ever give. I laid my hands on his head and was overcome by the most overwhelming feeling I’ve ever experienced. No words can describe what I saw or felt at that moment. All I remember was beautiful, powerful light flooding my mind, surging through my body, rushing to my heart. That power made its way through every limb, eventually out of my hands and onto him.

I kept mumbling over and over, “I had no idea. I had no idea. I had no idea what it means to really, really love.” Then the words came. “Dad, you are loved more than you have ever known. It’s time to go home.”

The blessing ended. Fifteen minutes later, I held my father’s hand as he slipped away. As he took his last breath, a single tear rolled down his face.

It wasn’t until my father’s last breath that he realized Jesus was with him all along. Jesus’s love is enough and never ends. That blessing was a pivotal moment in his life. However, I can’t help but wonder what would have been different for him and me if he had embraced Jesus’s love much earlier than the last minutes of his life.

Can we allow Jesus to inspire us to build heaven here with the lost, the broken-hearted, even our enemies? President Thomas S. Monson assured us that we can.

All of us can walk the path He walked. . . . He tells us to be merciful, to be humble, to be righteous, to be pure in heart, to be peacemakers. . . . He teaches us to love and to serve our neighbors.. . . He teaches us to improve ourselves and to strive for perfection. . . . He instructs us to go to the rescue of those who have left the path and have lost their way.

There is no higher end than this, that we should choose to accept His discipline and become His disciples and do His work throughout our lives. Nothing else, no other choice we make, can make of us what He can.

An Awakening

Days after Jesus was crucified, resurrected, and ascended to heaven, his disciples made a curious decision. After spending three years in the ministry of restoration with Jesus, they were faced with the ultimate question: “What’s next?”

After some discussion, Peter decided to go fishing, and at least six other apostles joined him. Elder Jeffrey R. Holland imagines Peter’s justification for going fishing this way:

“Brethren, it has been a glorious three years. . . . But that is over. He has finished His work, and He has risen from the tomb. He has worked out His salvation and ours. So you ask, ‘What do we do now?’ I don’t know more to tell you than to return to your former life, rejoicing. I intend to ‘go a fishing.’”

In Elder Holland’s re-telling of the story, I think the lines “He has finished His work” and “He has worked out His salvation and ours” are telling.

It’s impossible to know precisely what those grieving apostles who had just witnessed the death of Jesus were thinking. The situation was unprecedented. However, perhaps one interpretation from Elder Holland’s re-telling is that Peter and the other apostles still understood the gospel primarily in terms of personal salvation instead of restoration. They were saved! What else could Jesus want?

After all the horror they endured in Jerusalem, I’m sure fishing sounded great. Jesus’s mission, however, wasn’t finished. The great work of restoration had only begun.

Jesus had invited Peter and Andrew to follow him on the same Galilean seashore three years ago. The resurrected Jesus appeared again to his apostles and invited them to continue his work. Standing before a pile of fish, he asked Peter a penetrating question: “Do you love me more than these?” Peter said, ““Yes, Lord,” he said, “you know that I love you.” To which Jesus responded, “Feed my lambs” (John 21:15).

Elder Holland imagines Jesus’s follow-up conversation with Peter going something like this:

“Then Peter, why are you here? Why are we back on this same shore, by these same nets, having this same conversation? Wasn’t it obvious then and is not it obvious now that if I want fish, I can get fish? What I need, Peter, are disciples—and I need them forever. . . . I need someone who loves me, truly, truly loves me, and loves what our Father in Heaven has commissioned me to do. Ours is not a feeble message. It is not a fleeting task. It is not hapless; it is not hopeless; it is not to be consigned to the ash heap of history. It is the work of Almighty God, and it is to change the world. . . . [and to all the apostles:] Children, did not my life and my love touch your hearts more deeply than this?”

Something changed for Peter and the apostles at that moment on the shores of Galilee. The eyes of their hearts were enlightened again. Jesus revealed a mission that was larger than they had previously understood.

Jesus’s invitation to restoration was as urgent for the Galilean fishermen as it is for us today. The flawed fishermen, still struggling to grasp the enormity of Jesus’s work and love, realized that Jesus had taught them to become fishers of humanity (Matthew 4:19, Mark 1:17).

So, they laid down their fishing nets and devoted their lives to gathering people to the body of Christ, the Church.

Jesus invites everyone: “for the arms of mercy are extended toward them, and he saith: Repent and I will receive you” (Alma 5:33). Once we have “experienced a change of heart” and “felt to sing the song of redeeming love” of Jesus, we too are called to the humble path of the peacemaker (Alma 5:26).

We are called to strip ourselves of pride and envy.

We are called to no longer mock our enemies or respond to hate with more hate. We are called to love our enemies.

We are called to roll away our stones.

We are called to take the risk of embrace.

We are called to join Jesus in his eternal work of restoration.

This new definition of love is the key to transforming the conflicts that rage in our world.

It is a love that is universal, a love that applies to everyone, every race, every religion, male and female, sinner and saint.

It is a love that is selfless, seeks not its own, loves for the sake of love, not gain (1 Corinthians 13:4).

It is a love that is dangerous, pushes us out of our comfort zones, and asks us to make peace with our enemies.

It is the promise of Easter. Restoration of the children of God to God. And restoration of the family of God to each other.

Happy Easter.

Events in April

April 12: Stake Fireside, Highland, Utah
11605 North 6000 West
Highland, Utah 84003

Two days ago, I spent my Saturday at the Mormon Women for Ethical Government (MWEG) conference, “And Liberty and Justice for All.”

It was inspiring to be surrounded by six hundred women peacemakers of all ages—women who understand something we often get wrong:

Peacemaking is not passivity.
It is not just being nice.

It is courage.
It is conviction.
It is a willingness to stand, to speak, and to act on behalf of the common good.

MWEG’s growth over the past nine years has been remarkable, as has their impact.

Shaina Taub—writer, performer, and Tony Award winner for the Broadway musical Suffs—opened the event. She spoke (and sang) about the decade-long journey to tell the story of ordinary women who sacrificed everything for the right to vote. As a Jewish woman in a sea of Latter-day Saints, she found connection across faith traditions and shared this teaching from the Mishnah:

Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief
Do justly, now.
Love mercy, now.
Walk humbly, now.
You are not obligated to complete the work
but neither are you free to abandon it.

Dr. Jeannie Johnson, founding director of the Utah State University Center for Anticipatory Intelligence—and a dear friend—gave a rousing speech on resilience: how to build it in a world filled with disappointment, turmoil, and contempt. She reminded everyone that Jesus did not come to teach us how to love each other in a fair world, but in a broken one.

MWEG co-director Emma Addams reminded these women—nearly evenly split between Republicans and Democrats—that love is the key ingredient that both binds them together and makes them, in the words of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., “a force more powerful.”

MWEG co-director Jennifer Walker Thomas suggested that loving our country is a bit like loving a teenager. It can be maddening. Frustrating. And still—we choose to love it (and them). With patience. With commitment. With vision.

(More on that in a minute.)

MWEG’s work is not without controversy.

They have been criticized from both sides of the political spectrum. They have taken the state of Utah to court—and won—over redistricting. They take positions that are often unpopular in partisan circles.

And the resistance they face is often intensified by something deeper: They are women who, in the eyes of some, don’t know their place.

Over the course of the conference, I spoke with many of the women of MWEG. Again and again, I heard how hard it has been to endure criticism for doing what they feel, deep in their bones, is right. What hurt most was not just disagreement—but the dismissal. The suggestion that they were not peacemakers. That they were not faithful. That they were not good disciples of Jesus.

I found myself thinking about their strength long after the conference ended.

Peacemaking is hard. Being a woman peacebuilder is often harder. Especially in a world that still tells women—subtly and not so subtly—that goodness looks like silence. That faithfulness looks like staying small. That righteousness looks like staying in the background.

It both surprises me—and doesn’t—that in nearly every peacebuilding class or workshop I teach, women outnumber men four to one.

Women have always been the backbone of peacebuilding movements.

And they have almost always been criticized for it.

That tension—the expectation to be gentle, to be quiet, to be something smaller than what you are—stayed with me.

And it brought me back to a moment from a few years ago.

A moment with my stepdaughter, Emi.

“I’m Supposed to be a Lamb!”

The first time I met my stepdaughter, Emi, nine years ago, her mom, Amanda, brought her to my office, and within minutes Emi was completely captivated by two artifacts on my bookshelf.

The first was a string of yellow prayer beads given to me by the Mufti of Jerusalem.

The second was an olive wood statue, carved in Bethlehem, of a lion lying down next to a lamb.

Emi is one of the most curious people I’ve ever met, and though she had just met me, she immediately launched into a deep and energetic conversation about both. She wanted to know their history, their religious meaning, and how I had come to possess them.

Then she told me she loved Jerusalem—and began outlining an ambitious vision of who she wanted to become: a traveler, a dancer, a peacemaker.

She was nine.

Thirty minutes later, she left my office wearing one of the prayer beads she had fallen in love with, tied carefully onto a yarn bracelet. She wore it every day for years… until she lost it (ahhhhh… Emi).

A few weeks later, she came back with a small ceramic statue—a lion lying down next to a lamb—that her mom had given her. She told me it was her most prized possession and that she wanted me to have it.

I’m not much of a crier, but my eyes filled with tears as she handed it to me.

As I placed it on my shelf next to the larger, more elegant olive wood statue from Bethlehem, I noticed her gaze moving back and forth between the two.

“Would you like to trade?” I asked.

She nodded.

She went home with the olive wood lion and lamb.

When I asked her why she liked that one better, she didn’t hesitate: “The lion is bigger,” she said with a huge smile. Size matters when you are as little as Emi.

It was the beginning of a deep love between two restless souls.

Neither of us knew then that, a few years later, Amanda and I would be married, Emi would become my stepdaughter—with a new name, Jellybean—and the two statues would be reunited in our home.

Life in a blended family is rarely smooth.

We use that word—blended—and it sounds like something soft, delicious and easy, like a smoothie.

But in reality, it often feels more like blades—cutting, colliding, reshaping.

There has been joy.
There has been pain.
There has been laughter.
And there have been so many tears.

A few years ago, I got a call from a hyperventilating Jellybean. She could barely speak through the sobbing.

The back-and-forth between homes had become overwhelming. The differences in expectations, rules, and emotional environments were just too much.

She asked if I could come get her.

I walked to her house, picked her up, and we walked together through Laie. When we got home, she went straight to her room, took down the lion and lamb statue, and began gently running her fingers over both figures.

At first, she couldn’t find the words. But slowly, they came.

“I’m a lion,” she said through tears, “but I’m supposed to be a lamb.”

She told me what she had been hearing. She was:

Too strong.
Too opinionated.
Too passionate.
Too much.

She was a lion.

But she was supposed to be:

Quiet.
Gentle.
Small.
Reserved.

She wanted to be a lamb.

“Jesus was a lamb",” she told me broken-hearted.

My heart broke.

It is hard to be a lion. And it can be hard to live with one. But lions are not mistakes. And they are not meant to become lambs.

I asked her if I could tell her more about the lion and the lamb.

“You know,” I said, “that image—the lion and the lamb—comes from the Bible. From the prophet Isaiah. It’s a vision of a future world where things that normally destroy … choose not to.”

She nodded.

“But here’s what most people miss,” I said. “The lamb doesn’t become something else. It doesn’t grow claws. It doesn’t learn how to fight.”

I paused.

“And the lion doesn’t stop being a lion either.”

She looked down at the statue.

“The miracle is that the lion—the one with power, instinct, and every ability to devour—chooses not to.”

I let that sit.

“And in the Christian story, both of those images—lion and lamb—are used for Jesus.”

She looked up.

“He’s called the Lamb—because he suffers, forgives, and refuses to retaliate.”

“But he’s also called the Lion—the Lion of Judah. Strong. Courageous. Unafraid. The kind of presence that could overturn tables, speak truth, and challenge power.”

I leaned forward slightly.

“The power of his life isn’t that he was weak. It’s that he had power—and chose how to use it not to destroy, but to build peace and restore us to each other and to God.”

Another pause.

“He didn’t become less. He is the lion who lays down with the lamb. That’s what it means to be meek. Not weak. But strong enough to choose restraint. Strong enough to choose love.”

I pointed to the statue.

“God doesn’t want lambs. Jesus was our lamb. And God doesn’t want lions being silenced. God needs lions who know how and when to lie down with the lamb.”

I looked at her.

“You’re not supposed to stop being a lion. You’re supposed to learn what kind of lion to become.”

Nine years later, I can see it.

She’s a debate champion. A gifted dancer. An accomplished cheerleader. But more importantly, she has the heartbeat of a lion that is learning how to lie down with the lamb.

I see her strength being directed toward protecting the vulnerable.
I see her courage showing up for those who feel alone.
I see her fierceness being used not to dominate—but to defend.

There are still so many rough moments. It’s hard to be a lion that chooses to lie down with a lamb.

But I’m so grateful she’s in my life reminding me what a gift lions can be.

Celebrating Lions

So today, I want to celebrate both Emi and those women at MWEG.

Women who have been told they are too loud.
Too political.
Too passionate.
Too much.

Women who have been told—directly or indirectly—that goodness looks like being quiet.

But that’s not the story.

The story has never been about turning lions into lambs.

It has always been about lions who choose not to devour.

About strength that does not dominate.
Power that does not control.
Love that does not give up.

Because loving something—whether it’s a child, a community, or even a country—is a little bit like loving a teenager.

It can be maddening.
Frustrating.
Exhausting.

And still—we choose to stay.
We choose to care.
We choose to keep showing up.

Not because it’s easy.
But because it matters.

So blessed are the lions who refuse to use their strength to harm.

Blessed are the strong who choose restraint over domination.

Blessed are the fierce who turn their power toward justice.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness—and have the courage to pursue it.

And blessed are the women who refuse to shrink, who refuse to disappear, who refuse to become less than they are— and instead become the kind of lions we desperately need in the world.

One Year of Waymaking

A year ago I pressed “publish” on the first post of The Waymaker without really knowing what it would become.

I only knew the kind of space I hoped it might create.

A space where we could talk honestly about conflict—not just the conflicts in the headlines, but the ones in our families, our communities, our faith traditions, and sometimes inside our own hearts. A space where we could wrestle with what it really means to practice reconciliation in a divided world. A space where stories, spiritual traditions, and the everyday work of peacemaking might help us imagine another way forward.

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Events in April

April 12: Stake Fireside, Highland, Utah
11605 North 6000 West
Highland, Utah 84003

April 16-18: Transformative Mediation Certification Workshops
I will be holding our third Transformative Mediation Certification Training on Utah State’s Logan campus. This 40 hour, professional certification training if both for experienced mediators as well as therapists, social workers, business, faith and non-profit leaders as well as educators who want to sharpen their skills in a style of mediation that does more than just get agreements — it transforms relationships. If you’d like to join us, we’d love to have. You can register here!

One of my students recently told me about a message she keeps seeing on TikTok:

“Empathy doesn’t work when others don’t show empathy toward you.
When others don’t respect you, violence is the only way to get them to stop.”

That sentence captures the spirit of our moment.

It feels emotionally honest—and practically convincing.

What she didn’t initially realize is that her enemy’s TikTok feed was telling them the exact same thing.

Different grievances.
Same conclusion.

Donna Hicks puts her finger on what’s really happening beneath the surface for many people right now:

“The glue that holds all of our relationships together is the mutual recognition of the desire to be seen, heard, listened to, and treated fairly: to be recognized, understood, and to feel safe in the world. When our identity is accepted and we feel included, we are granted a sense of freedom and independence and a life filled with hope and possibility.”

Every time I use that quote, I ask people to raise their hand if:

• they want to be seen

• they want to be heard

• they want to be treated fairly

• they want to feel included

• they want freedom and independence

In every room I have ever been in, every single person raises their hand.

And just as consistently, every person in that room has a story about how someone else is not seeing them, hearing them, treating them fairly, or including them.

Here’s the part we miss:

Destructive conflict feels like exile to everyone.

We come to believe—almost instinctively—that the only way home is for others to finally see us, hear us, treat us fairly, include us, and grant us freedom and independence.

What blinds us is our inability—or unwillingness—to see that same need in our enemies.

That blindness doesn’t reduce conflict.
It intensifies it.

In both Dangerous Love and Seventy Times Seven, I argue that the way to transform destructive conflict into constructive conflict is to do the opposite of our natural instinct.

When someone shows us contempt, we want to harden.
When someone denies our dignity, we want to strike back.
When empathy is rejected, we want to abandon it altogether.

Dangerous love invites something far more disruptive.

Turning first—choosing to show empathy even to an enemy—is not capitulation.
It is an invitation to change.

Empathy does not excuse harm.
It interrupts the cycle that guarantees more of it.

This is not the fastest path to change.
But it may be the only one that lasts.

Followers of the Way

In his letter to the Romans, Paul lays out the moral formation required to follow Jesus in a fractured, violent world.

Romans 1–11 is largely theological: who God is, what God has done in Jesus, Israel and the nations, grace, mercy, and faithfulness.

In Romans 12, Paul makes a decisive turn—from belief to embodied practice, from doctrine to a way of life.

“Therefore…” begins.

This “therefore” means: In light of God’s mercy, here is how followers of Jesus now live.

That’s exactly where the early Christian self-description as followers of the Way matters (Acts 9:2; 19:9, 23; 24:14).

Paul is not offering abstract moral advice.
He’s describing a distinct communal path—a visible, practiced alternative to both Roman power and retaliatory honor culture.

Paul writes:

Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves.
Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse.
Do not repay anyone evil for evil.
If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.
Do not take revenge…
If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink.
Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. (Romans 12: 9-21)

In short:

• Let love be genuine

• Outdo one another in showing honor

• Bless those who persecute you

• Never repay evil for evil

• Never avenge yourselves

• Overcome evil with good

This is not soft.
It is not naïve.
It is exceedingly difficult.

Paul is describing the Way—an embodied path first taught by Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount.

“Love your enemies.”
“Pray for those who persecute you.”
“Turn the other cheek.”
“Blessed are the peacemakers.”

These teachings were not given to people living comfortable, respected lives.
They were given to people living under occupation, humiliation, and threat.

Jesus was not minimizing harm.
He was refusing to let harm be the final teacher.

The Freedom Army

One powerful modern example comes from the work of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC).

During the height of the U.S. civil rights movement, the SCLC organized Christians to become agents of change—to “save the soul of America.” One of their most influential programs was the Freedom Army, whose members led the Selma march and sacrificed to secure voting rights for Black Americans.

Participants committed to giving one year of their lives to nonviolent, community-based peacebuilding campaigns.

The Freedom Army Handbook described their work this way, in a section entitled “Our Weapon”:

“Nonviolent direct action is a way of overcoming injustice without becoming unjust yourself. It’s a way of fighting hatred without hating other people. It’s a way of conquering fear without being overwhelmed by it yourself. It is not a weapon of the weak, for it takes a stronger person to use nonviolence well, than it does to fight.

Nonviolence is the attitude behind our words and actions. Nonviolence begins by remembering that the people who oppose us are human beings, in spite of the way they act sometimes. With this attitude in us, we treat our opponents as humans, showing them goodwill, even when we oppose them. We try to let them know that we are fighting against segregation, not against white people.”

The Handbook also contains a “Code of Conduct” that each person pledged to abide by when encountering conflict. Many of their principles directly connect to “The Way.” They include:

• “We recognize that suffering is usually endured in the process of social change; therefore we will joyfully accept all suffering upon ourselves, even unto death. We will never retaliate or inflict suffering on another person.”

• “We will refrain from violence of the fist, tongue or heart. We will never swear or curse or make insulting or mean remarks to any person.”

• “We will always deal fairly with our opponent, no matter what he does. We will speak honestly and to the point.”

• “In the course of the struggle, if anyone insults or attacks a policeman or any segregationist, we will protect him from insult or attack even at the risk of our lives.”

• “We will try to be helpful. We will be on the lookout for anyone who may need our material or spiritual aid.”

• “We will observe at all times with both friend and opponent the ordinary rules of courtesy.”

• “We will always remember that the movement seeks justice, reconciliation, and brotherhood rather than victory over our opponent.”

The last page of the handbook contained a card asking the reader to pledge to live these values by signing the card and mailing it to the SCLC. These commitments take the ethics of “The Way” out of the realm of abstract theory and into practice.

These commitments took the ethics of the Way out of theory and into practice.

The SCLC asked Christians to do more than believe in Jesus.
They asked them to act like Jesus—whatever the cost.

They taught that fear is an enemy to peace.
They called people to love their enemies, to set aside their stones—metaphorical and physical—and to protect even those who opposed them.

They sought restoration, insisting that the only victory that mattered to Jesus was a double victory—one where former enemies were reconciled.

The Way

We’ve got some difficult days ahead.

Our ability to follow the Way is being tested.

The temptation for anger to turn into hate.
The temptation to see our brothers and sisters as enemies.
The temptation to mock turning the other cheek as weakness.
The temptation to dismiss Jesus’s command— “As I have loved you, love one another”— as surrender.

For Christians still clinging to a self-defeating justification that says, “These teachings are hard. Who can accept them?” (John 6:60)

I invite you to hear the words of Jesus: “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” (John 14:6)

In a world filled with enmity and polarization;
in relationships filled with avoidance and contempt;
in hearts filled with pain, grief, and fear—so much fear—

Jesus needs disciples who will step into conflict and become peacemakers.

He needs disciples who can say: “This teaching is hard. I can accept it.”

He needs disciples who choose love over fear.

So I pray that the eyes of our hearts may be enlightened,
that we may know the hope to which he has called us,
that we may believe the hard things he has spoken are spirit and life,
that we may trust that long-suffering, gentleness, meekness, mercy, and love unfeigned are the only path to sustainable change.

And while our efforts may not change the world, they will surely change ours.

In the name of the man anointed to heal the brokenhearted.
In the name of the man called to preach deliverance to the captives.
In the name of the man sent to recover sight to the blind and set at liberty the bruised.
In the name of the man who turns stony hearts into flesh.
In the name of the man who implored us to love our enemies.
In the name of the man who said that what we do to the least of these, we do to him.
In the name of the man who said, “Let the one without sin cast the first stone.”
In the name of the man who taught, “As I have loved you, love one another.”
In the name of the man who proclaimed, “Blessed are the peacemakers.”

Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

You’re invited to Interfaith REPAIR: A Gathering of Interfaith Peacemakers

Get Tickets to Interfaith REPAIR

When: Friday, March 6, 9 AM - 5 PM MT

Where: First Presbyterian Church of Salt Lake City, 12 C St E, Salt Lake City, 84103

Across the world’s traditions, people of faith have long carried tools for peace. At Interfaith REPAIR, faith leaders will open their texts, practices, and lived experience to show how their communities cultivate courage, compassion, and repair. Through teaching, ritual, workshops, and real encounter, attendees will discover a mosaic of wisdom for healing conflict today.

Featuring insights from:

• Early Buddhist principles of peacemaking and mindfulness (Sam Akers)

• Hindu Kirtan (Ancient Indian Practice) ritual highlighting inner and communal transformation through music & mantra (Ravi Gupta & family)

• A Presbyterian take on Forgiveness & Faith De- or Re-construction (Reverend Jamie White, Pastor, First Presbyterian of Salt Lake City)

• Jewish frameworks for sacred disagreement (Rabbi Spector, Congregation Kol Ami)

• The core elements of reconciliation (James Patton, Quaker Peacemaker)

• Latter-day Saint lens on the paradoxes of committed eternal relationships (Wendy Ulrich)

Check out the schedule, workshop descriptions and facilitators’ bios here!

Get Tickets to Interfaith REPAIR

“Who seeks for heaven alone to save his soul,
May keep the path, but will not reach the goal;
While he who walks in love may wander far,
Yet God will bring him where the blessed are.”
Henry Van Dyke

“It’s the week before Christmas, and I’ve never been more homesick. I keep walking around this desert looking for something to remind me of my home during Christmas and there’s nothing … No decorations. No snow. Just Joshua Trees and tumbleweeds. I am supposed to be a servant of Christ, but I can’t find Christmas. Even a Christmas tree would help.”

That’s an entry from my journal in December of 1990. It was my first Christmas away from home. I was serving as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints for roughly five months. I was struggling to find converts. I was struggling to get along with my missionary companion. I missed my family and my girlfriend back home. I was miserable.

My letters home must have reflected my unhappiness because the very next day, I got a package in the mail from my father. It was the book, The Other Wiseman by Henry Van Dyke. Inside it was a note, carefully typed on a notecard by my father:

“I love you. Your Father in Heaven loves you. So, get over yourself and share that love with the people you’ve been called to serve. You’ll find Christmas there.”

It was brutally direct in a way only my dad could speak to me. I opened up the book and finished the slim 60-page story about an hour later. It changed everything.

The Other Wise Man is the fictional story of a fourth wise man, Artaban, who is separated from the other three wise men before reaching Bethlehem. Artaban’s search for Jesus is interrupted three times by people in danger who require Artaban’s treasures meant for Jesus – a sapphire, a ruby and a pearl – to save their own lives. Each time Artaban’s dilemma is simple, give up the gift reserved for Jesus to help one of the least of these, or ignore their plea for help and deliver the gift to Jesus himself. Each time Artaban chooses to help the stranger and each time he misses the opportunity to give his gift to Jesus.

After each missed opportunity Arataban doubts himself and his mission. The whole affair reminds me of the story in Matthew 11 where John the Baptist finds himself in prison.

When John, who was in prison, heard about the deeds of the Messiah, he sent his disciples to ask him, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?”

Jesus replied, “Go back and report to John what you hear and see: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor. Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me.”

John sends his message from a place of despair and darkness. The doubt doesn’t rise from cynicism, it comes from a place of desire. Of hope. Jesus doesn’t condemn John for his doubt. He shows him grace and offers him hope, not of release from his prison, but from the larger challenges that trouble the least of these.

Do not stumble on account of Jesus.

Filled with inspiration, my missionary companion and I came up with a plan. We had met many people in need while knocking on doors in the various neighborhoods we served. We began collecting information about their families – how many kids they had and what they needed for Christmas. We then organized local volunteers in our church congregation to purchase gifts and wrap them. Then two volunteers, dressed as Santa and Mrs. Claus went around on Christmas Eve (with us tagging along in the background) to deliver the gifts to delighted families.

By the end of the night, my companion and I were drunk with joy. We stumbled home, singing Christmas carols at the top of our lungs. When we arrived at our apartment, we were shocked to find a small Christmas tree outside our front door. There was a note. It said simply “Well done my son. Merry Christmas”

We took the tree inside and put it under a picture of Jesus. We decorated it with some string and homemade paper ornaments. Then we knelt down and thanked Jesus for reminding us about what Christmas means. My journal that night ended this way:

“I don’t know who or how the tree got here. We hadn’t told a soul that we wanted one. We laughed at the irony. I’m sure those families were wondering the same thing when Santa and Mrs. Claus showed up at their door. I guess that is how Jesus works. He shows up when we least expect it, to heal us, to bring us joy. That is the gift of Bethlehem – a savior showing up in the least likely place, a stable in a manger, to save the world. I hope I never forget it.”

A LOVE STORY

Christmas is all about creation and restoration. God’s love for us becomes flesh. It’s inspiring. People feel moved to go out of their way to help the needy and uplift the down trodden. It is a time when even the most jaded speak of peace on earth and show good will to men.

Unfortunately, we know too well, that the good wishes of the season will slowly dissipate after Christmas as we sink into our ways. Too often we remember his birth, and forget the life that followed. Jesus’s admonition to “come follow me” was not a seasonal greeting. It didn’t come with caveats, make allowance for busy schedules, or change when the path becomes rocky or the situation becomes perilous. Real adoration of Jesus will lead us to emulate him. “If any man will come after me,” Jesus declared “let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me. For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it.”

When we truly accept Jesus’s love into our heart, we see with the eyes of our heart and begin pouring that love back out upon others. Our selfish desires dissipate and we yearn to lift, to serve, to succor and to love. Jesus’s way is not just about changing the way we see others. It’s also about opening our hearts to the way Jesus sees us.

That change, I believe, is the critical last step in 70 x 7. It’s crucial that we are able to give the gift of Jesus’s love to those we are conflict with. But how can we give it if we don’t first accept it ourselves? So, I want to fast forward from Bethlehem to the last week of Jesus’s life in Jerusalem to tell a love story. The greatest love story ever told. It is a story of sacrifice and suffering. Of brokenness and healing. Of forgiveness and renewal. A promise that all things can become new — in this life and in the world to come.

It is a story of a love that is universal, altruistic, and dangerous. It is a story that not only tells us how we may gain entrance into the next world, but also, how we can be co-creators with God in making this world a better one. It is a story that helps us understand John’s most poignant phrase in scripture: “God is love.” And love is an invitation into that relationship, the one at the center of the universe. A relationship of joy that can’t be contained.

Jesus is born into a world where the Romans rule the world by force. Few are choosing God. And so many hate their own blood. Zion is nowhere to be found. Into the picture comes Jesus. An unexpected messiah. While the Israelites were looking for a military commander who would lead them out of bondage, Jesus, instead, wanted to lead people out of the bondage of hatred. He knew the solution to all our problems—in this life and in the next—were related to how we believed God saw us, and in turn, each other.

In the span of few years, Jesus gave the world his model for peace. He offered us a way out of the hatred, pain and sorrow which were endemic in his time and in our own. Sadly, too few, even among his own professed followers, have taken it.

THE CRACKS ARE HOW THE LIGHT GETS IN

Fifteen years after that Christmas Eve miracle on my mission, I received the hardest phone call of my life.

“Your dad has pneumonia,” a nurse said. “His lungs are filled with fluid. There isn’t much we can do. You need to get here to say goodbye.”

I rushed to the airport and then sat through a torturous flight. I prayed that I’d get to see him and tell him I loved him one last time. I arrived at the airport and was picked up by one of his closest friends. We sped through town and I rushed up the stairs of the hospital to his side. My father was weak, barely conscious. It took several minutes to rouse him. When he awoke, he smiled weakly and clasped my hand. He asked me softly, “What took you so long?” and then smiled again. He whispered that he loved me. I told him I loved him. He didn’t pass away, however. He kept hanging on. He lost consciousness for the next twelve hours but refused to die. Every breath he took was a tortured one. The doctors were baffled. Why wouldn’t he pass?

The next day, after everyone else in the family went home to shower, my father squeezed my hand, opened his eyes, looked at me, and whispered, “I’m scared. I’ve made so many mistakes in my life. I’ve hurt so many people. I’m not sure God wants me back.” My father was afraid to pass on, afraid that the mistakes that he had made in his life would lead to God’s rejection in the next life.

I told him, “Don’t be afraid, Dad.” He held my hand and could barely utter the word “Blessing.”

I had given blessings many times to my sick children and even occasionally to strangers. I had never given one to my father. I knew it was the most important one I’d ever give. I laid my hands on his head and was overcome by the most overwhelming feeling I’ve ever experienced in my life. No words can describe what I saw or felt in that moment. All I remember was light -- beautiful, powerful light, flooding my mind, surging its way through my body, rushing to my heart. That power made its way through every limb and then eventually out of my hands and onto him.

I kept mumbling over and over, “I had no idea. I had no idea. I had no idea what it means to really, really love.” Then the words came. “Dad, you are loved more than you have ever known. It’s time to go home.”

The blessing ended. Fifteen minutes later I held my father’s hand as he slipped away. As he took his last breath, a single tear rolled down his face.

All life must end someday, but Jesus seared into my heart in that moment, love has no end.

The family slowly gathered to mourn the loss of my father. A local congregation hosted a dinner for us. My mother, my brothers and sisters, my aunts and uncles and cousins were all there. We started sharing stories about my dad. Some made us laugh. Some made us cry. My aunt shared a story I had never heard before.

“When Carl [that’s my dad] was drafted into the Vietnam war he was so afraid,” my aunt began. “He had never left Kansas City before and while he wanted to serve his country, he had no idea what to expect when he got there.”

“He was so homesick. He kept writing us, asking us to send something familiar from home. Vietnam was so far away and it was just too expensive to send anything. He never stopped asking. He was really yearning for home.”

“About five months into his service, he got deeply depressed. It was Christmas and he complained that in the jungles of Vietnam, nothing really felt like Christmas. He was sad that he didn’t even have a Christmas tree. That letter touched our dad and he scraped together all of our Christmas money to send him a book called The Other Wise Man and a fake Christmas tree to Vietnam. Our dad wasn’t a man of many words, so all he said on the note was ‘Well done my son. Merry Christmas.’”

“That book and Christmas tree changed Carl’s life. He had all the soldiers in his platoon gather around it to sing Christmas carols. Carl wasn’t a very religious person before that, but I think he found Jesus that day and he’s been seeking him ever since.”

I was sobbing. My father had sent me the book and the Christmas tree. Just as his father did. I never knew. I began thinking about the book again for the first time in many years. When I got back home, I opened up the copy he sent me and the last few words of it took a different meaning in light of the blessing I gave my father before he took his last breath.

The story ends with Artaban in Jerusalem. Jesus is about to be crucified. Artaban still has a priceless pearl. He decides to try to use it to buy Jesus’s freedom. On his way to negotiate with the Roman soldiers, he encounters a young woman being taken into slavery. She pleads with him “Have pity on me!” Hosana. The story continues:

It was the old conflict in his soul —the conflict between the expectation of faith and the impulse of love. Twice the gift which he had consecrated to the worship of religion had been drawn from his hand to the service of humanity. This was the third trial, the ultimate probation, the final and irrevocable choice.

Was it his great opportunity, or his last temptation? One thing only was sure to his divided heart—to rescue this helpless girl would be a true deed of love. And is not love the light of the soul?

He took the pearl from his bosom. Never had it seemed so luminous, so radiant, so full of tender, living lustre. He laid it in the hand of the slave.

“This is thy ransom, daughter! It is the last of my treasures which I kept for the King.”

Artaban’s decision meant he no longer had a gift to give Jesus. His 30-year quest, he believed, had failed. He had not seen nor given a gift to Jesus. Shortly thereafter, Jesus is crucified. Artaban blames himself. The whole earth trembles and a tile from a roof falls and strikes Artaban in the head. The woman that he had ransomed comes to Artaban’s aid and it’s clear that he is going to die. She hears a voice coming from the heavens as she holds him in her arms. Artaban begins talking, as if in answer, to someone she cannot see.

“Not so, my Lord: For when saw I thee and hungered and fed thee? Or thirsty, and gave thee drink? When saw I thee a stranger, and took thee in? Or naked, and clothed thee? When saw I thee sick or in prison, and came unto thee? Three-and- thirty years have I looked for thee; but I have never seen thy face, nor ministered to thee, my King.”

His whole life, Artaban and my dad, had been giving gifts, saving people. They cared for the least of these. They forgave. They embraced. Still, they were uncertain whether Jesus loved them. Whether they had been “enough.” I hear that phrase “not enough” a lot in conflict.

“The apology wasn’t enough.”

“They didn’t do enough.”

“I’ll never be enough.”

All the time, we aren’t asking the right question. We never get to peace by waiting for others or ourselves to be enough. Life isn’t about whether we are enough. Jesus, is enough. For you. For me. For our enemies. The story continues:

He ceased, and the sweet voice came again. And again the maid heard it, very faintly and far away. But now it seemed as though she understood the words:

“Verily I say unto thee, Inasmuch as thou hast done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, thou hast done it unto me.”

A calm radiance of wonder and joy lighted the pale face of Artaban like the first ray of dawn on a snowy mountain-peak. One long, last breath of relief exhaled gently from his lips.

His journey was ended. His treasures were accepted. The Other Wise Man had found the King.

It wasn’t until Artaban and my father’s last breath that they realized; he was with them all along. Jesus’s love is enough. We lose Jesus in conflict. We can’t see him others. We can’t see him in ourselves. We do not find him in a manager in Bethlehem. Nor in the dusty synagogues of Nazareth. He’s not on the grassy hillsides of Galilee. Nor in the Upper Room or Western Wall in Jerusalem. We find Jesus when we follow his path of 70 x 7. Sometimes, it takes just one thing to give us hope. One idea. One example of love to overcome the darkness. That is the story of Jesus. That love defeats hate. That light overcomes darkness. That all things can and will be made new.

Jesus lifts the downtrodden. He succors the weak. He promises that he can help us see each other as He sees us. By doing so, he ends the cycle of revenge, remorse and anger that threatens to consume us and creates a path toward understanding that bridges the divisions that are among us so we can become perfectly joined together. Jesus promises that the heaven we seek can be here. That the conflicts that are hurting our lives can be transformed by loving our way to each other.

God is love. And loves always, ALWAYS wins. And that love applies equally to you as it does to me and everyone else on this Earth. Are you a sinner? Have you made horrible mistakes? Do you feel far from Jesus’s grace? Jesus can work with that.

As it turns out, Jesus didn’t seem to pay much attention to those who had everything figured out and when he did, it was often in the form of calling for repentance. Jesus spent most of his time with sinners. With the poor, the sick and broken hearted. With those that were bruised or felt captive. Those were his favorite people. Many of them ended up his most devout followers. Jesus came for you too.

Can we open the eyes of our hearts, not just toward our enemies, but toward ourselves as well?

Can we put down the stones we use to blame and justify hurting ourselves and each other and instead, work with Jesus in the great plan of rolling away our stones?

Can we have the courage to open our arms and embrace Jesus and those who we disagree with. Can we let him love us and let us love the other?

Can we put aside our fears, that so easily beset us, and partner with Jesus on his ministry of restoration?

Can we allow Jesus to inspire us to build heaven here with the lost, the broken hearted even our enemies — our own blood.

Yes, we can.

We accept his call, when we accept his love. And after we accept his love? We can change the world.

Merry Christmas everyone. I’ve loved writing to you and hearing your response all year.

See you again in 2026.

Note this article appeared in Wayfare Magazine’s special Advent feature on Dec 1, 2025.

What did the heavenly hosts have in mind when they proclaimed “Peace on Earth” to the shepherds?

For many of us, the peace we want is passive. We want peace to be a state of being, a feeling; we want someone or something to change so that we experience peace. And we seek the kind of justice that avenges, punishes, and destroys.

But Jesus offers us an active peace rooted in how we see and act in the world. When we experience conflict, he calls on us to change. When he calls for justice, he calls for the type of justice that restores, reconciles, and makes us whole. It is in this frame of mind that I am brought to think about the paradox of a heavenly king finding warmth on his first night on Earth in a meager manger, in an otherwise little-known town.

It makes sense to me that God’s highest manifestation of love is an innocent, houseless child born in a stable filled with filth and straw.

I suspect on that night, if we were to stand outside that stable as Mary gave birth, we could hear both her weeping and her shouts of joy (see Ezra 3:9–11). There is always pain before a child is born, and in this child, God’s love becomes tangible in the midst of suffering. Peace is made flesh.

Jesus came into the world, not to give us the peace we want. Instead, he came to give us the peace we need.

Jesus was born into a dangerous world. His community was also in social, political, and religious conflict. The Roman Empire occupied Jesus’s homeland with violence and cruelty. Families faced divorce and estrangement. Poverty and disease ran rampant. Political, religious, and ethnic polarization divided the people of Israel. The Romans punished political dissent with death.

Like today, many of Jesus’s contemporaries assumed the end was near and prayed for deliverance from the conflicts that surrounded them. People felt helpless and begged God to send a Messiah who would save them, destroy their enemies, and usher in a time of peace, power, and prosperity.

During his first public sermon, Jesus drew upon a Messianic scripture in Isaiah to give us our first clue about how he would approach the topic of peace.

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised, To preach the acceptable year of the Lord. (Luke 4:18–19 KJV)

Jesus spoke of peace, hope, justice, forgiveness, and reconciliation at a time when his congregation was suffering deep, intractable, violent conflict. The people of Israel were being crushed by the Roman empire. They wanted their Messiah to fight their enemies, not love them. A Messiah preaching 70 × 7 was audacious in all the worst ways. What use did they have for a Messiah who loved Romans and sinners and encouraged the people of Israel to turn the other cheek?

In Nazareth, Jesus invited people with heavy grievances to minister to the spiritually, economically, and socially wounded. He asked them to let go of their grudges and animosity and to show forgiveness to those who hurt them. He called them to do everything in their power to make things right for those they had hurt.

The people in his hometown of Nazareth responded by attempting to throw him off a cliff. He was offering them the peace they needed, not the one they wanted.

Neither we nor Jesus were born into a world of fairness, justice, or peace. Nevertheless, Jesus, the Prince of Peace, offers a way through the destructive conflicts that plagued his day and ours. Jesus responded to the conflict that engulfed his world in ways that would bring more than a temporary respite from the ravages of war and enmity. He taught that the root cause of conflict derived from the human heart. He was concerned that “because of the increase of wickedness, the love of most will grow cold” (Matt. 24:11–12 NIV). Jesus was interested in ushering in a new kingdom, the kingdom of heaven. Yes, he would be a Messiah. Yes, he would offer liberation and salvation, not in the way we want, but in the way we need.

In his teachings and parables, Jesus made clear that the kingdom he was interested in was more concerned with the “least of these”—those that were most vulnerable to the conflict that was engulfing them—than amassing political, military, or economic power.

He taught people who were mired in destructive conflict to love their enemies, to not be angry with each other, to turn the other cheek, to forgive, to stop casting stones at others, and to instead look inward. He asked us to love each other the way he did: unconditionally, graciously, and without fear.

Jesus understood that we can’t work towards heaven on earth when we see each other as enemies that should be vanquished instead of brothers and sisters to be loved.

Where his contemporaries saw enemies, Jesus saw children of God. Where others advocated violence as a legitimate form of social and political change, Jesus chose nonviolence and assertive love as the path to sustainable peace. While others gathered an army to liberate people, Jesus called people to be peacemakers so that their hearts would be liberated from the bondage of hate, fear, and trauma. He rejected a culture and theology rooted in fear that leads to hostility, aggression, and coercion toward others. He taught and lived a culture and theology rooted in love that leads to kindness, humility, and compassion toward others. He said that the way we love one another, especially those who are different from us, shows the world “that you are my disciples” (John 13:35 NIV).

Jesus’s message invites us to reject the peace we want, and to lose our lives striving for the peace we need.

“To follow Jesus does not mean renouncing effectiveness,” writes Mennonite theologian John Howard Yoder. “It does not mean sacrificing concern for liberation within the social process in favor of delayed gratification in heaven, or abandoning efficacy in favor of purity. It means that in Jesus we have a clue to which kinds of causation, which kinds of community-building, which kind of conflict management, go with the grain of the cosmos.”

What does it mean to be peacemakers like Jesus when we are enmeshed in a challenging conflict with a family member, neighbor, coworker, or church member? How can Jesus’s path help us navigate larger social and political conflicts?

Jesus’s way is the gospel of “love and peace, of patience and long-suffering, of forbearance and forgiveness, of kindness and good deeds, of charity” in a world that is often filled with hatred and war, impatience and victimization, and impulsiveness and resentment. Jesus’s way is proactive: He invites us to de-escalate conflict and move toward healing and reconciliation.

Jesus is not asking us to submit to violence or succumb to conflict. He teaches us how to engage in peace in a way that transforms our hearts and those of our sisters and brothers we perceive as enemies.

To quote theologian Adam Miller, Jesus invites us to “give whatever good is needed, regardless of what’s deserved: give what is good. Return good for good and good for evil. . . . The goal of justice is to continually redeem the world from all evil, empowering everyone in it to be more just. Justice is accomplished when evil things become good, good things become better and better things become best.”

That is how we achieve a just peace.

In these times, when so many of our personal and collective efforts to be peacemakers have fallen short, Jesus’s call to be peacemakers has never been more urgent or relevant.

The poor need blessing;

The brokenhearted need healing;

Those that are captive need deliverance;

The blind need sight and the bruised need liberty;

The world needs jubilee—a restoration of all things.

Jesus’s call that day in Nazareth is the clearest and earliest distillation of his ministry. He taught principles that can empower us to transform destructive conflict. Can we take him at his word?

Can we embrace Jesus’s call to embrace the peace we need, not the peace we want?

For all of those who hope to embrace Jesus’s call, he has a word for you. The word, in Greek, is makarios. And it means supremely blessed—or that your life is and will be incredibly blessed or good.

Blessed are the poor in spirit

Blessed are those that mourn

Blessed are the meek

Blessed are those that hunger and thirst after righteousness

Blessed are the merciful

Blessed are the pure in heart

Blessed are the peacemakers

May you practice the peace that is needed because you are the light of the world. May your love become tangible in the midst of suffering and pain. May your peace become flesh. And like Mary and the blessed, houseless child born in filth and straw, may you weep loudly and shout joyfully so that the people cannot distinguish between the sounds of your sorrow and those of your joy.

If you listen closely to the beginning of the Gospel Christmas story, you can hear one refrain rising like a heartbeat.

• To Zechariah, startled in the sanctuary: “Do not be afraid.”

• To Mary, confused and troubled by the angel’s greeting: “Do not be afraid.”

• To Joseph, wrestling with a painful decision in the quiet of the night: “Do not be afraid.”

• To the shepherds, trembling under heaven’s sudden light: “Do not be afraid.”

Before Jesus speaks a word, before he heals or teaches or calls the disciples, God begins the story with a gentle command that cuts through centuries of pain, frustration, acrimony and fear.

It is as if the whole Christmas narrative is framed by one truth: the peace Jesus brings can only be received by not succumbing to fear.

Fear is the first and most frequent obstacle the Gospels address. And the command “fear not” is the one we most struggle to keep.

If fear is the problem, Jesus is already hinting at the answer: a courageous, steady, fearless assertive love—a love that moves toward others rather than away, that steps into conflict with grace, that extends itself for the sake of healing—is what will rescue us.

Not a military messiah. Not control. Not force. Not violence.

For all that need rescue—from pain, from sorrow, from our enemies, even from death—love is the way.

Fear and the Brain: Why This Command Is So Hard

Contemporary neuroscience confirms what scripture has long taught: fear hijacks us.

When we perceive threat, the amygdala—the brain’s alarm system—rapidly floods the body with stress hormones. We go into flight, fight, freeze or fawn mode. Our field of vision narrows. Our capacity for empathy decreases. Creativity plummets. Memory becomes distorted. We become reactive, tribal, defensive, and often destructive.

Fear is the root of the conflicts we don’t want to talk about—the ones that hollow out families, congregations, friendships, and nations. Underneath most of our worst decisions is not hatred, malice, or even ignorance. It is fear.

Fear of failure.
Fear of rejection.
Fear of losing control.
Fear of being wrong.
Fear of the other.

Fear that turns inward and convinces us we are unworthy, unlovable, or beyond repair.

Fear that turns outward and pushes us to withdraw, lash out, or protect ourselves at the expense of connection.

Fear that invites us to reject the stranger and to treat those in need as a danger rather than as people in danger.

Fear that sweeps through communities and nations, tempting us to place our trust in politicians and authoritarians who promise safety or prosperity — even when their methods to achieve those aims run counter to the teachings of Jesus.

Fear rewires our brains for aggression or withdrawal—both incompatible with the life Jesus calls us to live. The peace he offers is not sentimental. It is spiritual, emotional, relational, and deeply practical.

The Jesus Way: Fearless Love in a Fearful World

The Gospels show Jesus addressing fear again and again:

• “Do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.” (Matt. 10:31)

• “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” (Matt. 14:27)

• “Do not fear, only believe.” (Mark 5:36)

• “My friends, do not fear those who kill the body, and after that can do nothing more.” (Luke 12:4)

• “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” (Luke 12:32)

Why this constant refrain?

Because fear makes enemy-love impossible.
It makes forgiveness impossible.
It makes reconciliation impossible.
It makes peace impossible.

When Jesus commands love of enemy, forgiveness “seventy times seven,” and charity without counting the cost, he is calling his disciples into a life that fear cannot sustain.

To follow Jesus is not to eliminate fear, but to loosen its hold so love can breathe again.

Fear is Natural, But We Can Overcome It

The disciples—those closest to Jesus—knew fear intimately. Their stories show us that fear is not a failure, but a place where Jesus meets us.

1. Peter’s Sword in the Garden
When soldiers arrived to arrest Jesus, Peter struck out with his sword (John 18:10). This was fear disguised as courage—the impulse to fight when we feel everything slipping away. Jesus gently rebuked him and healed the wounded man, reminding us that fear-fueled violence is never God’s way.

2. Peter’s Three Denials
Later that same night, fear overtook Peter again. He denied Jesus three times. After the resurrection, Jesus restored him—not with condemnation, but with the tender question, “Do you love me?” (John 21).

3. The Locked Room
Following the crucifixion, the disciples locked themselves away “for fear of the Jews” (John 20:19). Jesus came into their hiding place and spoke: “Peace be with you.”

4. The Shore of Galilee
Even after the resurrection, the disciples fled back to Galilee—to safety, to familiarity. Jesus found them there and asked Peter the piercing question: “Do you love me more than these?” Fear often calls us backward. Jesus always calls us forward.

5. The Sky at the Ascension
In Acts 1, after Jesus ascended, the disciples stood frozen, staring upward. An angel interrupted them: “Why do you stand looking up toward heaven?”
Don’t stay stuck. Don’t let fear stop you.

But fear was not the end of their story.

These same disciples who hid, denied, ran, and froze became the ones who:

• preached boldly,

• crossed cultural and religious boundaries,

• healed the sick,

• welcomed strangers,

• confronted empires,

• and ultimately laid down their lives in love.

Fear did not define them.
Fear did not rescue them.
Love did.

We can overcome fear too.

A Universal Problem, A Universal Invitation

Religious scholar Stephen Prothero teaches that every major world religion identifies a central human problem and offers a spiritual solution:

• Hinduism: The problem is samsara (the cycle of rebirth); the solution is moksha (liberation).

• Buddhism: The problem is dukkha (suffering caused by craving); the solution is the Eightfold Path leading to awakening.

• Judaism: The problem is exile; the solution is return — renewed covenant and community.

• Islam: The problem is pride; the solution is submission (islām) to God.

So what, then, is the core human problem Jesus confronts throughout the Gospels? Not ignorance. Not impurity. It is the sin of fear—the fear that closes hearts, fractures relationships, fuels violence, and keeps us from trusting God or one another.

And what is the solution Jesus offers? The solution is assertive love:

A love that forgives instead of retaliates.
A love courageous enough to embrace the stranger.
A love humble enough to follow God into the unknown.
A love that moves toward rather than away.
A love that tells the truth without wounding.
A love that engages instead of retreating.
A love that heals instead of hides.
A love that steps into conflict with courage and grace.

The Invitation Today

From Zechariah’s trembling in the sanctuary to Mary’s startled and Joseph’s aching heart, from the hillside of Bethlehem to the locked room, the Galilean shore, and the sky above the Mount of Olives, God’s message has been consistent:

Do not be afraid.

We are invited to open the doors we’ve locked.
To loosen our grip on the nets we cling to.
To stop staring upward in uncertainty.
To step into a world that is frightening—and love anyway.

And in our own lives, this kind of fearless assertive love often looks small, ordinary, almost unimpressive:

• It is staying at the table a little longer when a conversation turns tense.

• It is choosing curiosity instead of judgment with someone who disagrees with us.

• It is apologizing first — even when fear tells us it will make us look weak.

• It is setting a boundary without anger and to ultimately reconcile, or receiving a boundary without resentment.

• It is reaching out to someone we’ve avoided and saying, “Can we talk?”

• It is staying soft-hearted in a world that rewards hardness.

• It is forgiving again, not out of passivity, but out of a determination to heal.

• It is offering the justice that makes wrong things right again, not the justice that destroys.

• It is offering kindness when it’s not reciprocated.

• It is daring to tell the truth with love, not with fear.

• It is choosing relationship over being right.

• It is seeing the image of God in the stranger.

• It is letting compassion inform our understanding.

• It is welcoming the person we once shunned.

• It is meeting others’ fears with gentleness.

• It is opening our hands when fear wants us to clench our fists.

• It is crossing the room toward someone who is hurting rather than waiting for them to make the first move.

• It is choosing courage when fear begs us to stay silent, hidden, or small.

• It is refusing to follow or support leaders who tell us we must fear or hate our enemies, choosing instead the way of Jesus, who teaches us to love them.

These small acts are how fear loosens and love grows.

This is how peace becomes real.

This is where the vision Jesus had of the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth takes shape.

Because fear will always whisper reasons to retreat.

But Jesus voice speaks louder:

“My peace I give to you… Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”

“I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.”

This is the message of Christmas.
This is the promise.
This is the invitation.
This is the rescue.
This is the way.

Do not be afraid.

Twelve hours deep into facilitating workshops at REPAIR this weekend, I did something I haven’t done in a long time in a workshop.

I stopped being a teacher and started being human.

I was facilitating a workshop with Patrick Mason and Katie Searle on navigating faith transition. Patrick began the session brilliantly, explaining the data and helping the audience understand the trends and reasons behind faith transition. He ended with a beautiful re-telling of the Prodigal Son story.

Katie came up next. She spoke about her own faith transition in the most vulnerable way possible. She reminded us of both the fragility of change and the bravery it takes to find truth and belonging, especially when that means making choices that ask ourselves and others to leave behind old versions of ourselves. There were tears flowing as Katie, in her own graceful way, reminded us what it means to be human.

We took a break. I was up next. I had slides. I was ready to talk about “tools” on how we navigate faith transitions with partners, children, parents, and friends. I was going to tell a quick story about my first child and their faith transition from the perspective of a father and then dig into skills training.

None of what I prepared felt right.

I could sense the audience was hurting. I could see that the information and the story Katie told were reassuring and healing.

But there was still so much pain in the room. I could feel it.

And I no longer felt like teaching. I yearned to be with the people in the room — all of whom had shown up courageously for a weekend of training on how to repair their relationships. This may have been the most sensitive topic of the two-day event. Everyone, earlier in the workshop, had a chance to respond to some questions about why they were there.

They asked for hope. But hope planted in something real. Planted in the soil of pain.

I remembered Jim Ferrell’s keynote speech on his new book “You and We” that kicked off the conference.

Toward the end of the book Jim writes:

That two hours together had changed something inside of me. Being in that room, relating to Patrick, to Katie, to former students, current friends, and a lot of new faces … their hope, their pain, was actively transforming me.

When I teach, too often, I am a noun. I wanted to be a verb.

Jim ends the book with this quote from philosopher Martin Buber: “Many . . . acquire relations which they do not make real, that is, which they do not use to open themselves to another; they squander the most precious, irreplaceable, and irrecoverable material; they pass their life by.”

I did not want to squander this precious, irreplaceable moment.

So I put aside the teaching material for the day. I sat down. I told stories I had never told before about my pain, and hope, and grief and joy. And then I spent the next hour sitting next to and listening to those same stories from others in the room.

The emotion of it all was overwhelming. I put my arm around people. I held someone’s hand. I wiped tears from my eyes and felt my soul and the soul of others continue to transform.

This hotel conference room felt sacred to me — a temple to the least of these who are hurting and seeking repair.

Wrote one participant after the workshop:

“I’m still metabolizing this session - it was by far the most abundant, enlightening, complex, raw, painful, cathartic, and oddly hopeful session of the entire conference. The data surprised, unsettled, and comforted me. The deeply personal journeys changed me on a cellular level. And the transformation from grief to growth in an hour shocked me - this collective and individual journey from fear, pain, tension, exhaustion to possibility, clarity, hope, compassion, empowerment, action, and grace was one of the most intense inside-out transformation experiences of my life. [This is what] conflict transformation looks like and how we can literally sit with others in theirs.”

As I’ve pondered the experience the past few days, I’m reminded of the teachings of Confucius. His central teaching was “ren”—a term that appears more than one hundred times in his writings, the Analects. “This cardinal Confucian virtue,” writes Stephen Prothero in his book Religion Matters, “is usually translated as benevolence, but it is also rendered as humaneness, goodness, kindness, human-heartedness, humanity, altruism, and fellow-feeling.”

The Chinese character for ren is composed of two parts. On the left is the character representing a human being. On the right are two lines that represent the number two.

Someone who possesses the virtue of ren understands that human beings do not stand alone. Writes philosopher Herbert Fingarette, “For Confucius, unless there are at least two human beings, there can be no human being.”

In that moment, I don’t ever think I’ve understood ren, or the concepts Jim was teaching us in You and We more clearly. Together, we were more than the sum of our parts. To quote Jim, we were “compounding”.

“At this level, people open themselves to each other’s goals and realities, integrating them with their own. As a result, other people are no longer ‘over there’ — separate entities with whom we can cooperate across our divides—but are rather within us in meaningful ways.”

So, I want to thank all of the people who helped compounding happen at REPAIR.

Thank you to our sponsors Faith Matters, the One America Movement, and the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for believing in and supporting this work.

Thank you to our talented, creative, and passionate workshop presenters — Jim Ferrell, Patrick Mason, Katie Searle, Jennifer Finlayson-Fife, Desmond Lomax, LaShawn Williams, Thomas McConkie, Seamus Fitzgerald, Amanda Ford, Melissa Mason, David Pulsipher, Jen Thomas, Emma Addams, Nanette Antwi-Donkor, and Frederick Reeves — who put so much time and spirit into their workshops.

And, most importantly, thank you to the people who showed up this weekend looking for hope and the tools to get there. Something larger than the sum of our parts took hold. There was a spirit in the room that transcended the polarization and contempt of our time.

I walked away with ren in my veins, and four days later, it is still pumping in spirit and truth.

In this Wonder of Scripture address, Chad Ford reflects on recent global conflicts, his experience speaking on Yom Kippur about atonement and forgiveness, and the hardest question disciples still ask: “This teaching is hard. Who can accept it?” (John 6:60)

Through stories from the Upper Room, Gethsemane, and Galilee, this talk traces how Jesus prepared His followers to face fear—not by hiding behind locked doors or waiting for Him to fix everything, but by walking into the world as peacemakers.

Drawing on scripture, modern conflict mediation, and Latter-day Saint teachings, the message is simple but demanding: Leave the locked room. Put down the sword. Feed His lambs. Overcome evil with good.

You’ll learn:

• Why Jesus’s command to love enemies remains the hardest (and most necessary) teaching

• How the apostles’ fear and retreat mirror our own reactions to crisis The difference between the world’s peace and Christ’s peace

• What it means to move from waiting for the Second Coming to building Zion now

• How Romans 12 outlines “the Way” of discipleship: peacemaking, hospitality, humility, and love

• Featured Scriptures: John 6; John 13–14; Matthew 18:22; Acts 1; Romans 12

“Peace is possible—but it will not come from locking ourselves in a room. It will come from going forth and doing as Jesus did.”

Seventy Times Seven Audiobook is Here

It’s taken us a few months … but the Seventy Times Seven audiobook is finally here!

I read the book and I hope you find it’s a whole new way to enjoy 70x7

You can order the audiobook (as well as the print and digital book) on:

Amazon.com/Audible and Deseret Book NOW!

Note that both Amazon and Deseret Book are offering the audiobook for free with a subscription to Audible or Deseret Bookshelf.

October 20th Last Day to Buy REPAIR tickets

Do you feel frustrated or hopeless about a conflict in your life? With yourself? A spouse? A child? A community or congregation member? Or, in the larger political divide? Waymakers is here to help.

​Bring your toughest conflicts to REPAIR, where world-class peacemakers lead skills-based, intensive workshops to help you navigate even the most challenging situations in your life.

Our inaugural event is October 23rd-25th in Provo, Utah. We are almost sold out of tickets, however there are a few remaining tickets for the following workshops. If you’ve been on the fence about joining us, now is the time!

October 20th is the last day to buy tickets.

Tickets are $50 per workshop. Use code “REPAIRBUNDLE” to receive a 20% off discount of admission to two or more different workshops

Here’s what’s still available:

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 24 - MORNING SESSION

8:30 am to 12:30 pm, Marriott Hotel and Conference Center, 101 W, 100 N, Provo, Utah

LASHAWN WILLIAMS: “Relational Stamina: Staying Present Across Difference”(3 seats left)

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 24 - AFTERNOON SESSION

2:00 pm to 6:00 pm, Marriott Hotel and Conference Center, 101 W, 100 N, Provo, Utah

AMANDA FORD: “Parenting from the Inside Out: Raising Teens with Presence and Peace” (5 seats available)

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 25 - MORNING SESSION

8:30 am to 12:30 pm, Marriott Hotel and Conference Center, 101 W, 100 N, Provo, Utah

SEAMUS FITZGERALD: “Wayfinding on Waves of Peace” (3 seats available)

CHAD FORD: “70x7: Navigating Conflict Jesus’s Way” (6 seats available)

THE ONE AMERICA MOVEMENT: “The Roots of Polarization” (8 seats available)

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 25 - AFTERNOON SESSION

2:00 pm to 6:00 pm, Marriott Hotel and Conference Center, 101 W, 100 N, Provo, Utah

AMANDA FORD & MELISSA MASON: “Peacemaking from the Inside Out: The Inner Work of Repair” (6 seats available)

DESMOND LOMAX: “Getting Ready: How to Engage Conflict within Yourself with Purpose & Authenticity” (3 seats available)

CLAIR CANFIELD: “Acquainted with Grief: Finding our Way Back to Wholeness” (4 seats available)

LASHAWN WILLIAMS: “Relational Stamina: Staying Present Across Difference”(7 seats available)

CHAD FORD, PATRICK MASON & KATIE SEARLE: “Preserving Love in Faith Transitions” (8 seats available)

JENNIFER THOMAS & EMMA ADDAMS: “Repair in Polarized Times” (8 seats available)

Get tickets to REPAIR

Here’s a brief video clip of me reading the last words of the last chapter of the book.

You can order the audiobook (as well as the print and digital book) on:

Amazon.com/Audible and Deseret Book NOW!

Note that both Amazon and Deseret Book are offering the audiobook for free with a subscription to Audible or Deseret Bookshelf.

REPAIR is just a few weeks away!

We are almost sold out of tickets, however there are a few remaining tickets for a few of the workshops. My Mediation 101 and Dangerous Love workshops are sold out, but there are a few seats left for my 70x7 workshop and my workshop with Patrick Mason and Katie Searle on Faith Transitions on Saturday, October 24.

If you’ve been on the fence about joining us, now is the time as we will close ticket sales on October 20th.

Tickets are $50 per workshop. Use code “REPAIRBUNDLE” to receive a 20% off discount of admission to two or more different workshops

Here’s what’s available:

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 24 - MORNING SESSION

8:30 am to 12:30 pm, Marriott Hotel and Conference Center, 101 W, 100 N, Provo, Utah

LASHAWN WILLIAMS: “Relational Stamina: Staying Present Across Difference”(3 seats left)

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 24 - AFTERNOON SESSION

2:00 pm to 6:00 pm, Marriott Hotel and Conference Center, 101 W, 100 N, Provo, Utah

AMANDA FORD: “Parenting from the Inside Out: Raising Teens with Presence and Peace” (5 seats available)

JENNIFER THOMAS & EMMA ADDAMS: “Repair in Polarized Times” (3 seats available)

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 25 - MORNING SESSION

8:30 am to 12:30 pm, Marriott Hotel and Conference Center, 101 W, 100 N, Provo, Utah

SEAMUS FITZGERALD: “Wayfinding on Waves of Peace” (4 seats available)

CHAD FORD: “70x7: Navigating Conflict Jesus’s Way” (7 seats available)

THE ONE AMERICA MOVEMENT: “The Roots of Polarization” (10 seats available)

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 25 - AFTERNOON SESSION

2:00 pm to 6:00 pm, Marriott Hotel and Conference Center, 101 W, 100 N, Provo, Utah

AMANDA FORD & MELISSA MASON: “Peacemaking from the Inside Out: The Inner Work of Repair” (8 seats available)

DESMOND LOMAX: “Getting Ready: How to Engage Conflict within Yourself with Purpose & Authenticity” (3 seats available)

CLAIR CANFIELD: “Acquainted with Grief: Finding our Way Back to Wholeness” (5 seats available)

LASHAWN WILLIAMS: “Relational Stamina: Staying Present Across Difference”(8 seats available)

CHAD FORD, PATRICK MASON & KATIE SEARLE: “Preserving Love in Faith Transitions” (10 seats available)

JENNIFER THOMAS & EMMA ADDAMS: “Repair in Polarized Times”(80 seats available) (8 seats available)

Get tickets to REPAIR

Shortly after Jesus’s crucifixion, his apostles locked themselves inside a room in Jerusalem.

They were overcome with fear and pain. They had lost their teacher, their friend, the Messiah. Jesus was supposed to be the Messiah that delivered them from their enemies. He was to usher in the Kingdom of Heaven on earth. If it could happen to him, they wondered, it could also happen to us.

In the midst of what must have been the most horrific week of their lives, a resurrected Jesus appeared to them inside the locked room and told them, “Peace be with you!”

On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord. Again Jesus said, “Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.”And with that he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. (John 20: 19-22 NRSV)

The Hebrew word for the phrase “Peace be with you” is shalom. It also is a greeting that simply means hello.

Peace? To a group of close friends consumed by fear.

Peace? From someone that they just saw crucified and buried.

“Peace to you in this locked room.”¹

For those who feel like those poor disciples — locked inside a room, trembling with fear because our relationships or our world aren’t what we had hoped or wanted it to be – you are not alone. Whether our conflicts are internal, with our loved ones, in our communities, or in the world, our fear of conflict can make them feel intractable.

Jesus says to you: Peace be with you!

Then, the hard part. “As the Father has sent me, I am sending you!”

Jesus wasn’t saying to the apostles, “Hang out in this locked room until you feel safe.” He wasn’t telling them to withdraw from the world.

It’s hard enough to feel peace in the midst of so much turmoil, frustration, and fear. It’s even harder to have that greeting followed by being asked to do something incredibly hard and scary.

Yes, the Father sent Jesus. But he was crucified for what he did.

Now you’re sending me? To do the same thing?

Jesus is asking them to unlock the door. To step into conflict. To respond to the horrific events of the last few days with his message of love and peace.

The peace we want — safety, security, stability — isn’t always the peace that we need. We metaphorically lock ourselves in rooms at the very time that we need to step into the gap — to close the space between us. Our instincts tell us to run. Jesus invites us to embrace not just the fear, but our enemies.

From Jerusalem to Galilee

The room that the apostles are hiding in gets unlocked, but the apostles flee to Galilee and decide that their ministry is over and it’s time to go back to what they did before they met Jesus.

They go back fishing.

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland imagines Peter’s justification for going fishing this way: “Brethren, it has been a glorious three years… But that is over. He has finished His work, and He has risen from the tomb. He has worked out His salvation and ours. So you ask, ‘What do we do now?’ I don’t know more to tell you than to return to your former life, rejoicing. I intend to ‘go fishing.’”

In Elder Holland’s re-telling of the story, I think the lines “He has finished His work” and “He has worked out His salvation and ours” are telling. It’s impossible to know precisely what those grieving apostles, who had just witnessed the death of Jesus, were thinking. The situation was unprecedented. However, perhaps one interpretation from Elder Holland’s re-telling is that Peter and the other apostles still misunderstood the gospel primarily in terms of personal salvation instead of restoration. They were saved! What else could Jesus want? After all the horror they endured in Jerusalem, I’m sure fishing sounded great. Jesus’s mission, however, wasn’t finished. The great work of restoration had only begun.

Jesus invited Peter and Andrew to follow him on the same Galilean seashore three years ago. The resurrected Jesus appeared again to his apostles and invited them to continue his work. Standing before a pile of fish, he asked Peter a penetrating question:

When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?”

“Yes, Lord,” he said, “you know that I love you.”

Jesus said, “Feed my lambs.”

Again Jesus said, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”

He answered, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”

Jesus said, “Take care of my sheep.”

The third time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”

Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, “Do you love me?” He said, “Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.”

Jesus said, “Feed my sheep. (John 21:15-17)

Notice what Jesus doesn’t say.

He doesn’t say “Kill my sheep.”

He doesn’t say “Arm my sheep so they can avenge me.”

He uses the words “care” and “feed.”

Jesus is building, not destroying. He aims to conquer the world not with a sword. Not with vengeance. Not with righteous anger. His plan is to do it with love.

He invites Peter and all of his followers to go forth the same way he went forth.

A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” (John 13: 34-35).

In the next chapter he’ll tells them:

Anyone who loves me will obey my teaching. My Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them. Anyone who does not love me will not obey my teaching. These words you hear are not my own; they belong to the Father who sent me…Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. (John 14: 23-24, 27).

The fish that Peter has caught can represent many things — they are whatever takes us from the path of Jesus. Jesus’s last command to Peter? “Follow me.”

We leave behind whatever justifications we have for not following Jesus — our fear, our complacency, our hatred of our enemies, our lust for power, control, and importance, our political and social ideologies that tell me I am right and they are wrong — and we care for and feed our sisters and brothers. We nourish them. In word and deed, we seek to reduce suffering.

The Second Coming

After a second powerful call from Jesus, the apostles stay put in Galilee.

They don’t leave.

And in the first chapter of Acts, the scriptures record that after Jesus ascends into heaven, angels return and ask the apostles:

“Men of Galilee,” they said, “why do you stand here looking into the sky? (Acts 1:11)

There are many interpretations for what happens here, but I wonder if the apostles were patiently waiting for Jesus to return, as he promised, to fix the world for them.

I wonder if they, still caught up in fear, thought Jesus could do this by himself. Sometimes, overwhelmed with the problems of the world, we resort to getting on our knees, asking Jesus to take away the enmity, violence, and pain in the world, and then get up off our knees and do nothing but look to the sky.

While I believe Jesus can be a powerful force for good in changing our hearts of stone into fleshy ones when we ask him (in fact, I think it’s vital that we do), he also requires us to partner with him in doing that work with others.

In Martin Luther King Jr.’s seminal work, The Strength to Love, King addresses how we make change in a broken world.

How can evil be cast out? There are two ideas that men have usually held about the way evil is to be eliminated and the world saved. One idea is that man must remove evil with his own power. It is the strange conviction that if man goes on thinking, inventing and governing he will be able to conquer by his own strength and ingenuity the nagging forces of evil. Just give people a fair chance, and a decent education, and they will save themselves. . . .

The other idea concerning the way evil is to be removed from the world says that man must wait on God to do everything. Man must lie still, purely submissive, and God in his good time will redeem the world. . . .

What, then, is the answer to life’s perplexing question? How can evil be cast out of our individual and collective lives? If the world is not to be purified by God alone or by man alone, who, then, will do it?

The answer to this question is found in an idea which is distinctly different from the two we have been discussing. It is not either God or man that will bring about the world’s salvation. It is both man and God, made one by a marvelous unity of purpose, by an overflowing love and the free gift of himself on the part of God.

In the next verse in Acts, after the angels ask them why they are looking into the sky, the apostles are back in Jerusalem. They are calling a new apostle to replace Judas.

They are about to change the world.

Not with swords. Not with anger. Not with vengeance. Not with hatred.

They will change the world the only way it can ever be truly, sustainably changed.

They will love their enemies. And invite them to love Jesus back.

It won’t be easy. It will require them to face immense pressure, fear, and hardship.

Peter, along with all of the apostles but John, will die in the cause that Jesus sent them on.

Back to Jerusalem

Many people around the world are suffering from a debilitating combination of contempt, anger, and fear.

People, families, and communities are ripping apart at the seams.

Our hearts are failing us. Our ability to project the I into the Thou has faltered.

The calls for violence, retribution, and the purging of our brothers and sisters are growing.

How do we respond?

By locking ourselves in a room? By trying to ignore the problem and focus on fishing? By looking at the sky?

Jesus invites us to let go of our fear. To step into the breach. To embrace and love our enemies. To replace enmity with “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” (Galatians 5:22-23).

Jesus bids us to love, to be charitable, not to judge or to be angry or envious. To understand that discipleship means that we will live by these standards toward others no matter the external circumstances around us. No matter what another has or hasn’t done to or for us. No matter whether others show us charity or judge us or are angry with us.

In the words of Paul:

Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.

Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited.

Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord. On the contrary:

“If your enemy is hungry, feed him;
if he is thirsty, give him something to drink.
In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.”

Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. (Romas 12: 9-21)

Do not be overcome by evil, my friends. But overcome evil with good.

“There is something deeply hypocritical about praying for a problem
you are unwilling to resolve”
- Miroslav Volf

Volf’s words have been rattling around in my head all week.

We want peace. We pray for peace. We cry out for change in this broken world.

Doing the actions that lead to peace and change? They often feel too hard, too scary, too uncomfortable. Peace feels unreachable. And of course … in the grand scheme of things, who am I?

The peace we want often entails someone else changing.

The peace we need typically requires us to roll up our sleeves and actively learn how to become the peacemakers the world needs.

It takes courage. It takes a change of heart. It takes skills. It takes effort.

I think Volf, a theologian who wrote his most famous book “Exclusion and Embrace” during the Balkans war, was speaking to this phenomenon.

To get to peace, real peace, getting our knees and asking for help is a good thing. God can help change our hearts, and turning our hearts from stone to flesh in conflict can be transformative.

Getting on our knees and asking God to do all the work for us, so we can be spared discomfort or pain or hard things, doesn’t get us any closer to peace.

If peace is what we want, God is willing to help us. But we have to do our part too.

I’ve served as a conflict mediator for decades in family, organizational, and international conflicts and worked with hundreds of people to help them transform contempt into respect, differences into innovation, and polarization into cooperation.

Peacemakers aren’t born.

Peacemakers train.

They learn how to change the way that they see conflict and the people they are in conflict with AND they spend time acquiring and practicing the skills that will help them successfully navigate conflict in every area of their life.

Patrick Mason and I created Waymakers because we want to make both the mindsets and skills of peacemaking more accessible to folks. While we’d love for you to come study with us at the Heravi Peace Institute at Utah State, we know that taking classes, getting certificates, let alone doctorates, isn’t going to be easy for most people.

Want to learn more about acquiring a peacemaking mindset and skills? Come join me at our inaugural gathering, REPAIR, on October 23-25 in Provo, Utah. I will be teaching four workshop at REPAIR.

"Dangerous Love: Navigating Cultural and Political Conflict"
FRIDAY, OCT 25 @8:30 am

Workshop Description: Do you feel that the cultural and political divides prevalent in our society are negatively impacting your relationships at home, within your ward, in your community, and at work? Are you grappling with conflicts between MAGA and Progressives, Israel and Palestine, LGBTQIA+ and traditional family values? If so, come learn the mental frameworks and tools employed by mediators to effectively navigate the most challenging and intractable issues in our lives.

We will learn how to better see people we disagree with. We will learn how not to withhold love and, instead, learn tools to collaboratively solve problems together. Expect lots of role plays, personal experiences, and a change of heart about your “enemies.”

Get tickets to REPAIR

"Mediation 101: How to Help Others Transform Conflict"
FRIDAY, OCT 25 @2:00 pm

Workshop Description: Do you ever find yourself caught in the middle of a family member, friend, co-worker, or ward member, struggling to help them navigate destructive conflict and find constructive peace? This course equips you with essential mediation skills, including conflict styles, reframing, discursive listening, and collaborative problem-solving tools.

Through engaging role-playing exercises, you’ll gain practical experience and become a more effective peacemaker in your personal and professional life. And it’s the first step into becoming a mediator in life.

Get tickets to REPAIR

"70x7: Navigating Conflict Jesus’s Way"
SATURDAY, OCT 26 @8:30 am

Workshop Description: Are you a Christian faith leader (such as a Pastor, Stake President, Bishop, Relief Society President, or youth leader) who feels overwhelmed by the conflicts your congregation is struggling with? Whether these conflicts are internal, familial, or larger cultural and political divisions within your congregation, Jesus provides us with powerful tools to help us and others find peace amidst external turmoil. Based on the book “70x7: Jesus’s Path to Transforming Conflict,” discover the tools that will enable you and others to navigate conflict successfully, as Jesus did.

Get tickets to REPAIR

"Preserving Love in Faith Transitions" with Chad Ford, Patrick Mason and Katie Searle
SATURDAY, OCT 26 @2:00 pm

Workshop Description: Faith transitions can be complex, emotional, deeply personal, and bring shifts in relationships. Whether you’re navigating your own, or walking alongside someone in theirs, this workshop creates a safe, respectful space to explore these journeys with honesty and compassion. Guided by multiple facilitators who have lived on all sides of the experience, we’ll share stories, practice tools, and build skills that help transform potential conflict into opportunities for deeper understanding, connection, and mutual respect.

Together, we’ll learn how to hold space for ourselves and others in ways that honor each person’s path and preserve what matters most—love.

We will also have a bunch of other amazing peacebuilders — a keynote by Jim Ferrell and workshops by Jennifer Finlayson-Fife, Thomas McConkie, Jennifer Walker Thomas, and Emma Addams from MWEG, Desmond Lomax, LaShawn Williams, David Pulsipher, Seamus Fitzgerald, Amanda Ford, Melissa Mason and One America — to help you navigate the most challenging conflicts in your life.

Come to one workshop. Or, go to all four. Find peace inside, at home, or in your ward or community. And connect with a bunch of other people who really care about making peace in the world.

Get tickets to REPAIR

Out of the Best Books Podcast

A few weeks ago I came on Deseret Book’s podcast “Out of the Best Books” to talk about my book Seventy Times Seven, the inspiration behind it and how it applies to all sorts of conflict in our lives.

If you love podcasts, I think this one is a really good one.

Links below to Apple and Spotify

Dangerous Love and 70x7 Events in September and October

We’ve got lots of great 70x7, Dangerous Love and a few miscellaneous events coming up in the next few months. Many of them are open to the public.

We will be adding more book events and Dangerous Love workshops so check back often.

If you’d like to schedule your own event with me, including Book Club discussions, speeches or Dangerous Love or 70x7 workshops, click on the blue button below, let me know what you are thinking!

September 2025

Sept 18: “Peacemaking and Discipleship” Live Podcast with Jennifer Walker Thomas of MWEG and the Proclaim Peace Podcast. UVU Fulton Library, Room 120, 800 W University Parkway, Orem, Utah (7 pm)

Sept 26: "The Sacred Work of Repair" Breakout Session with Patrick Mason. Faith Matters RESTORE conference. Orem, Utah.

October 2025

Oct 3: “By Small and Simple Things” Wonders of Scripture Series. BYU, Provo, Utah 3714 HBLL (11 am).

October 23-25: REPAIR Workshops in Provo, UT
Come join myself, Jim Ferrell, Jennifer Finlayson-Fife, Patrick Mason, Jennifer Thomas, Emma Addams and more for transformative conflict workshops on October 23-25 in Provo, Utah

If you’d like to schedule your own event with me, click on the blue button below!

Do you feel frustrated or hopeless about a conflict in your life? With yourself? A spouse? A child? A community or congregation member? Or, in the larger political divide? Waymakers is here to help.

​Bring your toughest conflicts to REPAIR, where world-class peacemakers lead skills-based, intensive workshops to help you navigate even the most challenging situations in your life.

Our inaugural event is October 23rd-25th in Provo, Utah, and will feature a keynote from Jim Ferrell as well as a series of intimate (workshop sizes range from 80 to 25 people), intensive four-hour workshops from The One America Movement, Jennifer Finlayson-Fife, Thomas McConkie, MWEG’s Jennifer Walker Thomas and Emma Addams, Patrick Mason, Chad Ford, Desmond Lomax, LaShawn Williams, Seamus Fitzgerald, David Pulsipher, Melissa Mason and Amanda Ford.

Tickets are available via an exclusive pre-sale to subscribers of Waymakers and Faith Matters, and are extremely limited. Due to the generous support of Faith Matters, the One America Movement, The Maxwell Institute and the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, tickets are just $50 per workshop. You can receive a 20% discount on admission to two or more different workshops using the code “REPAIRBUNDLE”—and every registration includes a complimentary ticket to Jim Ferrell’s Thursday night keynote.

Check out our full schedule, workshop descriptions and workshop facilitators’ bios below!

FULL SCHEDULE

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 23

6 to 8 pm, Varsity Theater, BYU, Provo, Utah
Tickets are free for anyone purchasing a ticket to a Friday or Saturday workshop, or cost $25 if you aren’t attending workshops.

REPAIR kicks off Thursday night at BYU’s Varsity Theater with an introduction from Chad Ford and Patrick Mason, co-Directors of Waymakers and a keynote from Jim Ferrell entitled: "You and We: A Blueprint for Human Connection"

CHAD FORD: “Making a Way Out of No Way”

JIM FERRELL: Keynote "You and We: A Blueprint for Human Connection"

PATRICK MASON: “Repair in the Restoration”

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FRIDAY, OCTOBER 24 - MORNING SESSION

8:30 am to 12:30 pm, Marriott Hotel and Conference Center, 101 W, 100 N, Provo, Utah
Tickets are $50 per workshop. Use code "REPAIRBUNDLE" to receive a 20% off discount of admission to two or more different workshops

THOMAS MCCONKIE: "Divine Vulnerability: The Body as Sacred Vessel for Peacemaking" (80 seats available)

PATRICK MASON: "A Theology of Peace: The Sermon on the Mount" (25 seats available)

JENNIFER FINLAYSON-FIFE: "From Conflict to Connection: Creating Peace in Marriage" (65 seats available)

LASHAWN WILLIAMS: "Relational Stamina: Staying Present Across Difference"(25 seats available)

CHAD FORD: "Dangerous Love: Navigating Cultural and Political Conflict" (55 seats available)

DAVID PULSIPHER "Waging Nonviolent Struggle as Jesus Would (& Did)" (25 seats available)

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FRIDAY, OCTOBER 24 - AFTERNOON SESSION

2:00 pm to 6:00 pm, Marriott Hotel and Conference Center, 101 W, 100 N, Provo, Utah
Tickets are $50 per workshop. Use code "REPAIRBUNDLE" to receive a 20% off discount of admission to two or more different workshops

THOMAS MCCONKIE: "Divine Vulnerability: The Body as Sacred Vessel for Peacemaking" (80 seats available)

PATRICK MASON: "A Theology of Peace: Doctrine & Covenants 98" (25 seats available)

DESMOND LOMAX: "Getting Ready: How to Engage Conflict within Yourself with Purpose & Authenticity" (25 seats available)

AMANDA FORD: "Parenting from the Inside Out: Raising Teens with Presence and Peace" (25 seats available)

JENNIFER THOMAS & EMMA ADDAMS: "Repair in Polarized Times" (65 seats available)

CHAD FORD: "Mediation 101: How to Help Others Transform Conflict" (55 seats available)

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SATURDAY, OCTOBER 25 - MORNING SESSION

8:30 am to 12:30 pm, Marriott Hotel and Conference Center, 101 W, 100 N, Provo, Utah
Tickets are $50 per workshop. Use code "REPAIRBUNDLE" to receive a 20% off discount of admission to two or more different workshops

AMANDA FORD & MELISSA MASON: "Peacemaking from the Inside Out: The Inner Work of Repair" (25 seats available)

CLAIR CANFIELD: "Forgiveness: A Pathway to Freedom from Emotional Prison" (25 seats available)

JENNIFER FINLAYSON-FIFE: "From Conflict to Connection: Creating Peace in Marriage" (80 seats available)

SEAMUS FITZGERALD: "Wayfinding on Waves of Peace" (25 seats available)

CHAD FORD: "70x7: Navigating Conflict Jesus’s Way" (55 seats available)

THE ONE AMERICA MOVEMENT: "The Roots of Polarization" (65 seats available)

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SATURDAY, OCTOBER 25 - AFTERNOON SESSION

2:00 pm to 6:00 pm, Marriott Hotel and Conference Center, 101 W, 100 N, Provo, Utah
Tickets are $50 per workshop. Use code "REPAIRBUNDLE" to receive a 20% off discount of admission to two or more workshops

AMANDA FORD & MELISSA MASON: "Peacemaking from the Inside Out: The Inner Work of Repair" (65 seats available)

DESMOND LOMAX: "Getting Ready: How to Engage Conflict within Yourself with Purpose & Authenticity" (25 seats available)

CLAIR CANFIELD: "Acquainted with Grief: Finding our Way Back to Wholeness" (25 seats available)

LASHAWN WILLIAMS: "Relational Stamina: Staying Present Across Difference"(25 seats available)

CHAD FORD, PATRICK MASON & KATIE SEARLE: "Preserving Love in Faith Transitions" (55 seats available)

JENNIFER THOMAS & EMMA ADDAMS: "Repair in Polarized Times"(80 seats available) (80 seats available)

WORKSHOP DESCRIPTIONS AND BIOS

KEYNOTE

JIM FERRELL: Keynote, "You and We: A Blueprint for Human Connection"

THURSDAY, OCT 24 @6:00 pm

In his keynote, Ferrell will offer a clear, science-backed framework for moving beyond individualism toward deeper “we-ness,” reveal how to bridge divides, honor differences, and create relationships that transform workplaces, communities, and the human family.

Tickets are free for anyone purchasing a ticket to a Friday or Saturday workshop and cost $25 if you aren’t attending workshops.

BIO: Jim Ferrell is a bestselling author and founder of Withiii Leadership. As previous longtime managing partner of the Arbinger Institute, he is the author/coauthor of many bestsellers, including Leadership and Self-Deception, The Anatomy of Peace, and The Outward Mindset. His religious titles include The Peacegiver and Falling to Heaven. His brand-new book, You and We: A Relational Rethinking of Work, Life, and Leadership, is a culmination of all his work to overcome divides and bring people together.

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INNER PEACE WORKSHOPS

THOMAS MCCONKIE: "Divine Vulnerability: The Body as Sacred Vessel for Peacemaking"
FRIDAY, OCT 25 @8:30 am and @2:00 pm

Workshop Description: President Nelson has called us to be peacemakers—but in real life, that’s often messy and hard. This workshop explores how our bodies, with their God-given needs for safety, love, and agency, can both spark conflict and open the door to healing. Through scripture, movement, and conversation, we’ll practice staying present in our own vulnerability so we can respond with Christlike love, transform tension into connection, and better carry one another’s burdens.

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BIO: Thomas McConkie is an author, developmental researcher, and meditation teacher. As a teenager, he met his first teacher and has been practicing for over 25 years under masters in the traditions of Sufism, Buddhism and Christian contemplation, among others. Thomas is the founder of Lower Lights School of Wisdom, a nonprofit organization committed to sharing ancient and modern teachings from the world’s Wisdom traditions. He is the author of At One Ment: Embodying the Oneness of Human Divinity. He is currently researching and writing on the topic of transformative spiritual practice at Harvard Divinity School. He lives with his wife, two kids, and rescue dog.

PATRICK MASON: "A Theology of Peace: The Sermon on the Mount"
FRIDAY, OCT 25 @8:30 am

Workshop Description: Developing a robust theology of peace is foundational to the work of Latter-day Saint peacemakers. This workshop will be an intensive dive into one key scriptural text, Matthew 5-7, with an eye toward understanding what Jesus taught in the greatest sermon ever preached and how we can apply it in our everyday walk as peacemakers. If you’ve ever wanted to take a graduate theology seminar with Patrick Mason, this is your chance!

PATRICK MASON: "A Theology of Peace: Doctrine and Covenants 98"
FRIDAY, OCT 25 @2:00 pm

Workshop Description: Developing a robust theology of peace is foundational to the work of Latter-day Saint peacemakers. This workshop will be an intensive dive into one key scriptural text, Doctrine & Covenants 98, with an eye toward understanding what God taught Joseph Smith and the early Saints about conflict and how we can apply it in our everyday walk as peacemakers. If you’ve ever wanted to take a graduate theology seminar with Patrick Mason, this is your chance!

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BIO: Patrick holds the Leonard J. Arrington Chair of Mormon History and Culture at Utah State University. He has written or edited several books, including Restoration: God’s Call to the 21st Century World; Proclaim Peace: The Restoration’s Answer to an Age of Conflict and Planted. He was a Fulbright Scholar in Romania in 2015 and is a past president of the Mormon History Association. Patrick is frequently consulted by the national and international media on stories related to Mormon culture and history. He teaches courses on Mormonism, American religious history, and religion, violence, and peacebuilding.

DESMOND LOMAX: "Getting Ready: How to Engage Conflict within Yourself with Purpose & Authenticity"
FRIDAY, OCT 25 & SATURDAY, OCT 26 @2:00 pm

Workshop Description: Before we can navigate conflict with others, we must first learn to meet it within ourselves. This workshop offers a guided exploration of your inner landscape—where fears, values, desires, and defenses collide. Through storytelling, movement, mindfulness, and practical tools, you’ll learn how to approach inner conflict with clarity, compassion, and intentionality. By building trust in yourself and staying grounded in moments of tension, you’ll expand your capacity for genuine dialogue, resilient decision-making, and deeper, more authentic connections with others.

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BIO: Desmond Lomax is a licensed clinical mental health therapist with over 20 years of experience in public safety and a strong focus on criminal justice reform. After a successful career in the field and consulting for leading firms, Desmond founded Prisonisms Consulting, specializing in the intersection of mental health, physical fitness, and work performance. He is a sought-after speaker on topics including mental health, conflict resolution, and well-being.

Motivated by both professional experience and personal loss—his oldest son Mateen died by suicide in 2019—Desmond also leads a non-profit, illuminateenunity, providing mental health resources to students in Mateen’s memory. Desmond will be joined by his wife, Alison, a two-time cancer survivor and physical fitness advocate, to deliver an impactful session drawn from his decades in the prison system.

AMANDA FORD & MELISSA MASON: "Peacemaking from the Inside Out: The Inner Work of Repair"
FRIDAY, OCT 25 @8:30 am and @2:00 pm

Workshop Description: This workshop will help you navigate inner conflict that drives external struggles, and offers practical tools for cultivating peace within yourself and relationships. Through interactive exercises using mindfulness, movement, and creative expression, you will be guided toward healing and resolution. Come as you are and leave with tools, insights, and a deeper sense of peace.

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BIOS: Amanda Ford, LCSW, is a clinical social worker, therapist, educator, and yoga teacher. She specializes in mindfulness-based therapy and relational healing. Amanda works with individuals, families, and students to foster emotional resilience, spiritual integration, and compassionate connection. She teaches social work and peace studies at Utah State.

Melissa Mason, CSW, is a clinical social worker and therapist who integrates mindfulness, relational therapy, and evidence-based approaches to support individuals and couples. She specializes in addressing issues such as sex, desire, trust, and emotional regulation. Known for her warm, compassionate presence, Melissa creates a safe space for clients to explore their stories and cultivate greater peace and vitality in their lives.

CLAIR CANFIELD: "Forgiveness: A Pathway to Freedom from Emotional Prison"
SATURDAY, OCT 26 @8:30 am

Workshop Description: Forgiveness is a critical concept in many faith traditions. When we talk about forgiving the dehumanization or unjust treatment from others, the focus is often on how we should forgive. This workshop will not focus on if we should forgive, but rather how to forgive if that is a choice we have made. We will explore the process of transforming feelings of bitterness, anger, and hurt into feelings of beneficence. Bring your grudges!

CLAIR CANFIELD: "Acquainted with Grief: Finding our Way Back to Wholeness"
SATURDAY, OCT 26 @2:00 pm

Workshop Description: Grief is often thought of as a negative emotion and something to be avoided. How grief is navigated is also highly misunderstood and makes it difficult for many to understand how to deal with it, and how to support others who grieve. In this workshop we will uncover the gifts that grief has to offer and practice moving through it in a way that can help us regain a sense of wholeness after the pain of loss.

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BIO: Clair Canfield’s journey in peacebuilding started during his first year of marriage when he realized he was terrible at dealing with conflict. As a recovering avoider he has now discovered that conflict has the potential to be beautiful. He is passionate about helping people unlock the gifts of conflict through his work as an educator, consultant, and mediator over the past 24 years. Clair currently teaches at Utah State University and is a founding member of the Heravi Peace Institute.

RELATIONSHIP PEACE

DR. JENNIFER FINLAYSON-FIFE: "From Conflict to Connection: Creating Peace in Marriage"
FRIDAY, OCT 25 & SATURDAY, OCT 26 @8:30 am

Workshop Description: We tend to polarize into self-protective positions when we confront painful conflicts with those we love. These ego-driven stances are intuitive but they keep us from creating true solutions and genuine peace in our marriages. This workshop will help you see what your pattern of engagement is, how it keeps you from the peace you desire and what you can do instead. We will practice the self-awareness and self-regulation that are necessary for collaboration in the face of conflict with our spouses.

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BIO: Jennifer Finlayson-Fife is an LDS relationship and sexuality coach with a Ph.D. in Counseling Psychology. She is the author of That We Might Have Joy: Desire, Divinity, and Intimate Love and the creator of six online courses that help individuals and couples create happier lives and stronger intimate relationships. She also hosts Room for Two, a popular sex and intimacy podcast, and is a regular guest on LDS-themed podcasts discussing relationships, faith, and sexuality.

DR. LASHAWN WILLIAMS: "Relational Stamina: Staying Present Across Difference"
FRIDAY, OCT 25 @2:00 pm and SATURDAY, OCT 26 @8:30 am

Workshop Description: It’s easy to withdraw or cut ties when relationships get hard—especially when deep differences in values, identity, or past hurts are involved. Are there ways to stay present without losing yourself? This workshop offers practical tools for navigating connection, identity, and shame with care, including how to set and maintain healthy boundaries. Designed for anyone who has been cut out of a relationship—or has made the difficult choice to step away—it invites honest reflection, skill-building, and hope for all possibilities. Through guided exercises and group discussion, you’ll learn how to engage difference with compassion, protect your well-being, and cultivate the resilience needed for authentic connection.

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BIO: Dr. LaShawn Williams is a Licensed Clinical Social Worker, educator, and Relational Change Strategist. She supports individuals, families, and organizations in moving from disconnection to mutual empowerment. With a deep grounding in Relational Cultural Theory and anti-oppression practice, her work centers on healing interpersonal shame and creating sustainable connection across differences. Dr. Williams leads with heart, rigor, and a deep commitment to relational repair.

AMANDA FORD: "Parenting from the Inside Out: Raising Teens with Presence and Peace"
FRIDAY, OCT 25 @2:00 pm

Workshop Description: Parenting teenagers takes us to the heart of sacred conflict. In this restorative and empowering workshop, parents will explore their own parenting patterns, learn to stay grounded during moments of conflict, and strengthen emotional connection with their teens. Through personal reflection, gentle movement, family systems exploration, and experiential activities, you will discover tools for parenting with more clarity, less reactivity, and a stronger sense of connection.

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BIO: Amanda Ford, LCSW, is a clinical social worker, therapist, educator, and yoga teacher. She specializes in mindfulness-based therapy and relational healing. Amanda works with individuals, families, and students to foster emotional resilience, spiritual integration, and compassionate connection. She teaches social work and peace studies at Utah State.

CHAD FORD, PATRICK MASON & KATIE SEARLE: "Preserving Love in Faith Transitions"
SATURDAY, OCT 26 @2:00 pm

Workshop Description: Faith transitions can be complex, emotional, deeply personal, and bring shifts in relationships. Whether you’re navigating your own, or walking alongside someone in theirs, this workshop creates a safe, respectful space to explore these journeys with honesty and compassion. Guided by multiple facilitators who have lived on all sides of the experience, we’ll share stories, practice tools, and build skills that help transform potential conflict into opportunities for deeper understanding, connection, and mutual respect. Together, we’ll learn how to hold space for ourselves and others in ways that honor each person’s path and preserve what matters most—love.

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BIOS: Click here for the full bios of Chad, Patrick and Katie!

SEAMUS FITZGERALD: "Wayfinding on Waves of Peace"
SATURDAY, OCT 26 @8:30 am

Workshop Description: Discover Polynesian traditions that offer timeless pathways to peacebuilding — grounded in seeing the inherent mana in every person, nurturing relationships (tauhi vâ), and caring for land and sea as kin. Through stories, values, beliefs, and practices from across the Pacific, this workshop explores how ancestral wisdom, and incorporating ancestral traditions into our lives, can inspire sustainable peace in our modern world.

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BIO: Seamus Fitzgerald is a seasoned facilitator in Arbinger’s Outward Mindset and Crucial Conversations, with a strong background as a lecturer in higher education, leadership, and cultural development. He holds an MPhil in Māori Studies and a BA in Pacific Island Studies, with additional qualifications in Māori Performing Arts. Currently serving as the Senior Manager of Global Corporate Culture at dōTERRA International, Seamus brings deep expertise in Polynesian culture having worked in the senior leadership of the world renowned Polynesian Cultural Center for approx 20 years specializing in cultural transformation, communication, and cultural engagement. He is passionate about helping individuals and organizations create meaningful, lasting change through empathy, cultural identity and connections.

SOCIAL PEACE

JENNIFER THOMAS & EMMA ADDAMS: "Repair in Polarized Times"
FRIDAY, OCT 25 & SATURDAY, OCT 26 8:30 am

Workshop Description: Are political tensions wearing you down? Ready to rediscover civility, empathy, and constructive dialogue? Join the Co-Executive Directors of Mormon Women for Ethical Government (MWEG)—a nonpartisan, faith-rooted community devoted to peacemaking and ethical civic engagement—in this interactive workshop, where you’ll gain practical tools for de-escalating conflict, cultivating respectful conversation across differences, and engaging in dialogue that heals rather than divides. Whether you’re navigating conversations online, at the dinner table, or in your local community, you’ll leave equipped with skills to pursue peace and ethical action—even when it feels difficult.

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BIOS: Jennifer Walker Thomas is the Co-Executive Director of Mormon Women for Ethical Government and the co-host of the Proclaim Peace Podcast. She is currently a Vote is Sacred Fellow with Interfaith America. She received her bachelor’s degree in art history and Italian from Brigham Young University and went on to do graduate work in art history at NYU’s Institute of Fine Arts. She worked as a consultant for underperforming schools in the New York City public school system and then worked in major gift fundraising and event planning for Massachusetts General Hospital. Following the births of her four boys, Jennifer became a full-time parent and during that period she held leadership positions at church and consistently volunteered in her community. This included serving as an elected member of the town government in Belmont, Massachusetts, where she lives with her husband.

Emma Petty Addams serves as Co-Executive Director for Mormon Women for Ethical Government. After receiving her bachelor’s degree in piano performance at Stanford University, she spent time in Boston and Silicon Valley working in contracts negotiation, corporate transactions and capitalization, and investor relations. In addition, she has built and run large piano studios in California, New Jersey, and Omaha, Nebraska. While seemingly unrelated, these previous career opportunities were excellent preparation for the fast-paced yet methodical and collaborative nature of the work at MWEG. Every time an MWEG member writes an op-ed, speaks out against injustice, or expresses her opinion peacefully on social media, Emma is grateful for the chance to help women contribute their part to the complex multi-voice symphony that is our democracy. Emma currently resides with her husband and three sons in Salt Lake City, Utah.

CHAD FORD: "Dangerous Love: Navigating Cultural and Political Conflict"
FRIDAY, OCT 25 @8:30 am

Workshop Description: Do you feel that the cultural and political divides prevalent in our society are negatively impacting your relationships at home, within your ward, in your community, and at work? Are you grappling with conflicts between MAGA and Progressives, Israel and Palestine, LGBTQIA+ and traditional family values? If so, come learn the mental frameworks and tools employed by mediators to effectively navigate the most challenging and intractable issues in our lives.

CHAD FORD: "Mediation 101: How to Help Others Transform Conflict"
FRIDAY, OCT 25 @2:00 pm

Workshop Description: Do you ever find yourself caught in the middle of a family member, friend, co-worker, or ward member, struggling to help them navigate destructive conflict and find constructive peace? This course equips you with essential mediation skills, including conflict styles, reframing, discursive listening, and collaborative problem-solving tools. Through engaging role-playing exercises, you’ll gain practical experience and become a more effective peacemaker in your personal and professional life.

CHAD FORD: "70x7: Navigating Conflict Jesus’s Way"
SATURDAY, OCT 26 @8:30 am

Workshop Description: Are you a Christian faith leader (such as a Pastor, Stake President, Bishop, Relief Society President, or youth leader) who feels overwhelmed by the conflicts your congregation is struggling with? Whether these conflicts are internal, familial, or larger cultural and political divisions within your congregation, Jesus provides us with powerful tools to help us and others find peace amidst external turmoil. Based on the book “70x7: Jesus’s Path to Transforming Conflict,” discover the tools that will enable you and others to navigate conflict successfully, as Jesus did.

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BIO: Ford is an international conflict mediator, facilitator, and peace educator. While most people know him for his work at ESPN, being a basketball analyst and writer was actually his side-gig for most of the last two decades. Chad’s peacebuilding work is what defines him. Chad served as the Director of the David O. McKay Center for Intercultural Understanding at BYU-Hawaii. for nearly twenty years where he created a major and certificate program in intercultural peacebuilding. In 2024, Chad left his position at BYU-Hawaii to join the faculty at Utah State University. Chad is serving a joint appointment with the Religious Studies department and the Heravi Peace Institute.

His first book, Dangerous Love, weaves Chad’s experiences into a deeply personal step-by-step exploration of how we transform fear and conflict. His second book, 70x7, draws on Chad’s experiences as a Christian peacebuilder to show us how Jesus’s path of practicing 70×7 has the power to repair relationships by transforming destructive conflict into constructive peace. Chad has his own substack newsletter called the Waymaker if you want to follow his latest writing, podcasts and events.

DR. DAVID PULSIPHER "Waging Nonviolent Struggle as Jesus Would (& Did)"
Friday, October 25, @8:30am

Workshop Description: Learn how to wield the Savior’s command to “love your enemies” as a powerful force for change. In this workshop, we’ll explore how this radical teaching can become a practical, even revolutionary, tool for confronting injustice, resisting tyranny, and transforming destructive social dynamics without mirroring their harm. Drawing on scripture, history, and real-world examples, we’ll discover how Christlike love—far from being passive—can fuel creativity, courage, and moral clarity in the face of conflict. You will leave with a deeper understanding of how to channel compassion into concrete action that protects the vulnerable, challenges wrongdoing, and opens the door to lasting peace.

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BIO: Pulsipher is a professor of history at Brigham Young University–Idaho, where he leads its program in Peace and Conflict Transformation. His research focuses on the intersections of Latter-day Saint theology, scripture, and history with principles of peace and nonviolent action. He is the author of several books, including When We Don’t See Eye to Eye: Using the Weapon of Love to Overcome Anger and Aggression, and (with Patrick Mason) Proclaim Peace: The Restoration’s Answer to an Age of Conflict. He lives in Rexburg, Idaho, where he and his wife Dawn have raised their six biological children, fostered a few more, and love roaming the local mountains, canyons, and streams.

THE ONE AMERICA MOVEMENT: "The Roots of Polarization"
Saturday, October 26, @8:30 am

Workshop Description: "This interactive workshop explores the roots of polarization, the importance of engaging our own communities, and the power of storytelling in difficult conversations. Participants will gain shared vocabulary around toxic polarization, engage with strategies to lower polarization on our own side, and practice conversations on difficult topics with people who disagree with us. This session will help faith leaders learn how to lower polarization by speaking up in accordance with their faith tradition."

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BIO: "At the One America Movement, we believe toxic polarization is a spiritual crisis—and that faith offers a powerful response. Our faith traditions teach us to love our neighbors, welcome strangers, and pray for our enemies, providing timeless wisdom for building healthy communities. That’s why we are building and growing a network of faith leaders who speak and act against toxic polarization in accordance with their faith tradition. Currently, this network includes over 5,000 faith leaders, spans 37 states, and continues expanding rapidly to meet the demand for support that these leaders need."

Have questions about REPAIR? You can email us at waymakersks@gmail.com!

Alas, I often find that conflict is hardest with the people we love the most. Fear of losing the thing that we value most pushes us to avoid, accommodate or dominate as ways of preserving relationships.

Too often, those fear based approaches leads to unresolved issues, resentment and even contempt.

Couples wish for or hope for a “conflict free” relationship when the truth is, what they need is to learn how to do conflict better. Marriage research John Gottman has found a positive correlation between couples who say they don’t argue and divorce and it’s in the direction you think it would be. It turns out that conflict-less marriages are just hiding fissures that will eventually crack into something much bigger and more difficult to transform.

Learning how to do conflict better in marriage is not only essential for a healthy marriage, it also lays the groundwork for us to get better at navigating conflict at work, in our communities and in even larger socio-political spheres.

I recently joined a podcast with Dr. Dave Schramm, Family Life Specialist Professor at Utah State University, and Dr. Liz Hale, Licensed Clinical Psychologist on their Stronger Marriage Connection podcast where we discussed in depth some of these challenges, ways for couples to do conflict better and how to heal and reconcile when things go terribly wrong. If you have a romantic partner, I think it’s worth an hour of your time.

And if you’d like to learn more of these skills, I’m offering a four hour conflict transformation workshop in Park City on August 22nd. All of the information is found after the links to the podcast below! (and use the code TURNFIRST for 20% off).

You can watch it on YouTube and listen to it on Spotify and Apple Podcasts below:

Conflict Workshop in Park City

Interested in learning how to transform a conflict in your own life or marriage?

Mountain Mediation in Park City is hosting a four hour workshop on Friday, August 22nd from 8:30 to 12:30. This transformative conflict workshop takes you through an interactive process that I’ve developed to help individuals, families, and groups work together through conflict.

Click this link to sign up here! and use the code TURNFIRST in the checkout for 20% off.

You’ll learn how to:

• Identify different conflict styles in order to better navigate interpersonal conflict,

• Overcome fear about engaging in conflict,

• And to turn difficult interactions into opportunities for collaboration!

During the workshop, we’ll play some games, wrestle with deep questions, and hopefully find a path to transform your conflict into something constructive.

Workshop Details

8-8:30 Check-in Opens & Breakfast

8:30-9:45 P1. Mindset Change

9:45-10 Break

10-11:15 P2. Conflict Transformation Skills

11:15-11:30 Break

11:30-12:30 P3. Personal Application

This event has been approved for 3.5 hours of CLE credit.

Thank you to our sponsors, Sandra More and Park City Municipal, for their support of this workshop.

However, what about inner conflict? What happens when the person we struggle with the most is ourselves?

Recently, I joined Jeremy King from BYU Maxwell Institute on a podcast that delves into the role of forgiveness and grace in our own lives.

This is something I struggle with daily. I’ve discovered that I can embrace grace towards others, even my enemies, much more easily than I can towards myself.

This podcast spends a lot of time wrestling with what that looks like, why it’s so hard and how we can practice 70x7 towards ourselves.

You can watch the podcast on YouTube, listen to it via Spotify or Apple Podcasts, or find all the links below:

Time to Leave a Book Review! + 70x7 on Sale

Reader reviews are critical in helping people decide whether to read Seventy Times Seven. If you’ve had a chance to read the book, would you consider writing a review of the book?

You can leave an Amazon review here!

You can leave a Goodreads review here!

If you haven’t had a chance to get a copy of the book, Amazon is offering a limited 20% discount on the print version of Seventy Times Seven! Just click the 20% off coupon box and get it for $14.39. If you haven’t had a chance to get a copy yet, this is the cheapest I’ve seen the book!

It’s a beautiful post from a man who deserves to be tired. Jim is the author of two amazing Arbinger books, Leadership and Self-Deception and the Anatomy of Peace as well as a few Christian books like The Peacegiver and a soon to be published masterpiece called You and We: A Relational of Work, Life and Relationships.

Jim has dedicated his whole life to helping others. His work has influenced millions of people. He has often forgone fame (his name didn’t even appear on his two Arbinger books) and comfort to help leaders, non-profits, and everyday people like me find success in the thing that matters most — our relationships.

We over use the phrase “change my life” but in the case of Jim, I’m not sure the phrase is quite strong enough to really capture the impact he has had on my life. I wouldn’t be who I am to day, as a mediator, as a peace educator, as a husband and father without his influence.

So when Jim writes, “I'm tired of being tired” my soul wanted to leap a few thousand miles from my home in Logan to his home in Maryland and wrap my arms around him in embrace.

Jim needs rest. From his body. From the annoyances of modern life. From the polarization and disconnection that are endemic in our time.

Being a waymaker can be exhausting.

Frustrating.

A job that never seems to end.

His short post on LinkedIn reminded me of another one of my early influences in my peacebuilding work, Vincent Harding.

Like Jim, Harding, and his words and teachings as a black Mennonite, have profoundly impacted me.

Harding was a great peacemaker and leader and a radical disciple of Jesus. In an obituary published in 2014, author Lucas Johnson described him perfectly

“Amid so much blindness, this gentle man could see. He could see us, each of us whom he encountered. He did not see the caricatures of ourselves, not what our ideological commitments had made us, or our fear had tricked us into becoming. He could see in us who we were destined to be: more fully human. And he used his gift of sight to help us see ourselves and each other.”

And he delivered, what I believe to be, the single greatest sermon ever written to peacemakers, entitled “In the Company of the Faithful.”

I can’t find the original online anymore, but want to share a few quotes with you from his sermon that have always inspired me.

The title of the sermon comes from a passage in Hebrews in the New Testament:

Harding’s reflects on how to find the strength, the courage, and the hope to carry on when it feels like the work you are doing is failing. When your efforts aren’t making a difference. When the headwinds feel too strong.

Harding talks about near-death experiences and the sense of light and peace people often feel. He speaks of how they feel surrounded by loved ones. And how comforting that must have been to the writers of the New Testament, given the dangerous commitment they had made to Jesus.

Then he says:

“[There is] a tremendous, magnificent, welcoming, loving host of folks who are prepared to welcome us into the light beyond this life, but also they are available to us now, on this side of death. Yes, the same cloud of witnesses is here now to help us live in the light; here to help us walk in the light; here to help us be enlightened in the fullest and deepest sense of that word, to help us walk in the truth.

And if there's anything I want to share, it is my conviction … about the reality of this great cloud of witnesses whose fulfillment cannot take place without our own. I would call us to see and appreciate these folks who are like a great cheering squad for us. In the midst of everything that seems so difficult, that seems so powerful, that seems so overwhelming, they are saying to us: "We are with you," and "There is a way through; there is a way to stand; there is a way to move; there is a way to hope; there is a way to believe. Don't give up!"

To know them, to know that they are present, is to know that regardless of how alone we feel sometimes, we are never alone. We are never alone: nowhere, no how, in nothing. Never.”

He then recounts stories of numerous individuals who spearheaded the civil rights movement but unfortunately did not witness its fulfillment. He speaks of his mentors and colleagues, sharing his journey with them. Their contributions were immense, yet they were unable to complete the journey they had begun.

Harding goes on:

That's how things get started, by people taking wild bets with their lives, and saying, "I'm going to set up my tent here until the time comes for the real buildings to be built, and when they're built, I'm going to be right in the midst of them because I'm going to be among the builders, seeing things that nobody else sees, envisioning new ways of living, seeing cities that people say are crazy, totally unrealistic, not in the plan." That happens when we are able to testify out of our dreams, in our tents, "I believe in holiness. I believe in righteousness. I believe in justice. I'm ready for a new kind of city, for a new kind of coming together of men and women and children who can really celebrate the love and the grace of God."

… That's what it means to live a life of faith, not trying to gobble everything that you can get your hands on, not saying that if I can't see it, if I can't have it myself, then I don't believe in it. It means knowing that there is a city set out there, within here, for God's people, for all people, a city that is better than anything we have known. Living in faith means knowing that this is not someplace in the sky, but that it is in the hearts and lives of the women and men who will work for it, who will seek to create it.

Living in faith is knowing that even though our little work, our little seed, our little brick, our little block may not make the whole thing, the whole thing exists in the mind of God, and that whether or not we are there to see the whole thing is not the most important matter. The most important thing is whether we have entered into the process.

Like Martin King talking to the old woman in Montgomery, Alabama, during the long bus boycott, asking, "Mama, why are you walking like this, walking miles and miles to work? I mean, you're not even going to benefit much from this new situation yourself." And she said, "Dr. King, I'm not doing this for myself. I'm doing this for my grandchildren." That's why she could also say to him then, "Yes, Dr. King, my feets is tired, but my soul is rested."

That's how your soul gets rested, when you stop being selfish, when you stop thinking, working only for yourself, and start dreaming, as the Native Americans do, for seven generations beyond us. Your soul gets rested when you realize that your life is not meant to be captured just in your skin, but that your life reaches out to the life of the universe itself. And the life of the universe reaches into us and demands of us that we be more than we think we can be, demands that we live out these dreams.

So I’m grateful today for my cloud of witness. People like Jim and Vincent. Mentors like Kathy Ward, Leymah Gbowee, Wallace Warfield, John Paul Lederach and Carrie Menkel-Meadow. Colleagues like David Whippy, Patrick Mason, Clair Canfield, Tammy Proctor, Michael Ligaliga, Seamus Fitzgerald, Jen Peeples, Karrie Ketchum, David Pulsipher, Kathrin Peters and Nora Tavanga and Katie Searle. And an incredible wife like Amanda.

I am grateful they uplift me when I am tired. I am grateful that they give me hope when there is no hope. I am grateful that I am not alone in trying to make a way out of no way.

I hope you can feel your cloud of witnesses today Jim (and everyone else reading this). I pray that they give your soul rest and hope. And if you have the time or inclination, I’d love for you to tell me below in the comments who they were and why they meant so much to you.

Note: The other way I rest my soul is by hiking through redwood forests, which I’ll be doing for the next few weeks. So we’ll pause the newsletter for a few weeks. See you again in mid-July.

War (and rumors of war). Russia-Ukraine. Israel-Gaza. Civil wars in Sudan, Myanmar, Ethiopia and Nigeria. The conflict between Israel (and possibly the US) versus Iran is escalating quickly.

In my work as a mediator, I’ve seen violence, hatred, anger, greed, poverty, and hopelessness and war. I often feel overwhelmed by the intense suffering that so many people carry. We live in a world with many reasons for losing hope.

Now feels like one of those moments.

Please don’t lose hope.

When conflict escalates to a point where people resort to taking up arms, launching missiles, destroying communities, and advocating for the dispossession or elimination of entire groups of people, the thought patterns I frequently encounter from individuals involved in the conflict and those adjacent to it look like this:

1. There is a right side and wrong side

2. I need to take a side

3. The people on the other side are not like me

4. Violence from my side toward their side is justified

5. Violence from the other side toward my side is not justified

6. Peace is only possible through violent force in times like these.

7. If you are not with me, then you are against me

I see these predictable patterns running the gamut from family to international conflict. Social psychologists and theologians have been writing about them for ages, and there are reams of academic studies that predict these seven thought patterns that typically lead to behaviors with horrific outcomes.

We know where thoughts and attitudes like this lead and what their outcomes are likely to be. Nevertheless, when the war is over, we will stand back and ask ourselves, “How did this happen?” We will vow never to let it happen again. And then, with enough time and provocation, we will do it again.

We know that wars disproportionately affect women, children, and the poorest of the earth — the very people least likely to start them or care about them — while at the same time arguing that we are raising a banner of freedom to protect our homes, our families, our communities, and our most vulnerable.

While there may be moments in history where war has been inevitable, it was almost always preventable, and deciding when it is justified is almost always clouded by these flawed thought patterns and poor decision-making fueled by a sense of fear and self-preservation.

It is especially hard for me to see my fellow Christians fall into these belligerent attitudes when Jesus has offered us a different way to navigate the conflicts that we face. Jesus too faced intense political, religious, cultural, and economic conflict. Many of his followers wrestled with the same seven attitudes we see today. They were often frustrated by what Jesus taught and at times dismissed it as being unrealistic or even dangerous.

War can provide us with the peace we desire, whether it’s feeling strong or protected. However, it fails to deliver the peace we truly need—the peace of reconciliation and the building of the beloved community.

Jesus offered us the peace we need, not the peace we want.

In the midst of so much fear, anger and uncertainty, I want to remind you of that today with a modified chapter from Seventy Times Seven that explores a serious, violent conflict in Missouri between Missouri citizens and immigrants from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

I pray it provides some context for the types of questions we wrestle with today and some understanding about how we might approach questions of war, self-defense and power from the perspective of Jesus. Most importantly, I pray it offers hope in times that feel so hopeless.

Power and Influence (a modified excerpt from Chapter 4 of Seventy Times Seven)

It’s one thing not to throw the first stone. It’s another thing entirely not to pick up stones and hurl them at our enemies when our enemies are throwing them at our heads.

Jesus commands, “Do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also” (Matthew 5:39). Although some have interpreted it as a call for passivity, Walter Wink translates the command as proactive:

“Don’t strike back at evil (or, one who has done you evil) in kind. Do not retaliate against violence with violence. . . Don’t react violently against the one who is evil. The only difference was over the means to be used: how one should fight evil.”^[i]

In the film Gandhi, Gandhi tells a Christian minister, Charlie Andrews, that Jesus’s call to turn the other cheek is meant to be taken literally.^[ii]

“I have thought about it a great deal,” Gandhi tells Andrews. “I suspect [that Jesus] meant [that] you must show courage, be willing to take a blow, even several blows, to show you will not strike back, nor will you be turned aside; and when you do that, it calls on something in human nature, something that makes his hatred for you decrease and his respect increase. I think Christ grasped that, and I have seen it work.”^[iii]

Does Jesus want us to get slapped in the face? Repeatedly? His followers were understandably worried about the first blow and the subsequent blows that an enemy might strike if they turned the other cheek.

That was the question Joseph Smith and the members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints living in Missouri wrestled with after violence drove them from their homes in the 1830s. Church members were killed, and Joseph, Sidney Rigdon, and others were imprisoned in a tiny cell in Liberty, Missouri, facing a likely sentence of death for treason.

Cold, starving, sick, and cramped in a dark, damp, filthy prison cell, Joseph cried out to God, like David in the Psalms, asking for divine help for himself and the Latter-day Saints. He begged for vengeance against those who had committed wrongs against him and his people.

O God, where art thou? And where is the pavilion that covereth thy hiding place? How long shall thy hand be stayed, and thine eye, yea thy pure eye, behold from the eternal heavens the wrongs of thy people and of thy servants, and thine ear be penetrated with their cries?

Yea, O Lord, how long shall they suffer these wrongs and unlawful oppressions, before thine heart shall be softened toward them, and thy bowels be moved with compassion toward them?

Let thine anger be kindled against our enemies; and, in the fury of thine heart, with thy sword avenge us of our wrongs. Remember thy suffering saints, O our God; and thy servants will rejoice in thy name forever. (Doctrine and Covenants 121: 1–3, 5–6)

Things had gone horribly wrong for Joseph and the thousands of followers who had converted to the faith. After years of excitement and growth, the members of the Church were facing intense destructive conflict.Many members of the Church were refugees, needy, and afraid. It appeared that everything they had worked for had failed.^[iv]

This story is critical to understanding Jesus’s admonition to practice 70 x 7. Sometimes, we throw stones to control and seek retribution, vengeance, and justice when we have been wronged and are afraid. When we believe and act like God will show us mercy and favor while showing hatred and vengeance toward our enemies, we are walking the path of destructive conflict.

The teachings of Jesus can provide us a way out of all this pain and misery.

The Law of Retaliation and Forgiveness

Five years before Joseph was imprisoned in Liberty, he was dealing with the first signals that things weren’t going smoothly in Zion. Early Latter-day Saint settlers had migrated to Jackson Country, Missouri, after Joseph was commanded through revelations to build Zion. Zion would be a gathering place for the Saints and where Jesus would return at the beginning of the Second Coming.

Historian Richard Bushman, in his book Rough Stone Rolling, lays out the series of events that led to Joseph's imprisonment in Liberty Jail. It starts here. The revelation calling for gathering to Missouri used the word “enemies” to describe the current residents, and indeed they were becoming so. The Latter-day Saints spoke of the land being redeemed by its rightful inheritors. The Evening and Morning Star wrote matter-of-factly about “tak[ing] possession of this country.”^[v]

Emboldened by revelation that seemed to guarantee them a place of refuge and power, conflict between the Latter-day Saint settlers and Jackson County, Missouri, residents flared within a few months. As tension grew with the Missourians, Joseph started gathering a makeshift army to defend the Latter-day Saints. In August 1833, Joseph received a revelation that became section 98 in the Doctrine and Covenants. In this revelation, God explains how to respond to injustice.

If men will smite you, or your families, once, and ye bear it patiently and revile not against them, neither seek revenge, ye shall be rewarded.

If your enemy shall smite you the second time, and you revile not against your enemy, and bear it patiently, your reward shall be an hundred-fold.

And again, if he shall smite you the third time, and ye bear it patiently, your reward shall be doubled unto you four-fold. (D&C 98:23, 25, 26)

If the conflict continues, God tells them that the perpetrator is to be warned again (D&C 98:28). If the conflict continues after all these peacemaking attempts, only then would the Latter-day Saints be “justified” to “rewardest him according to his works” (D&C 98:31). Nevertheless, the Lord promises that “if thou wilt spare him, thou shalt be rewarded for thy righteousness; and also thy children and thy children’s children unto the third and fourth generation” (D&C 98:30).

Often, when discussing section 98, it’s easy to jump past all the calls for non-violence and peace and quickly get to the justification of violence and retribution. In verse 31, a victim is only justified in rewarding his enemy “according to his works” after multiple attempts to renounce war and proclaim peace.

However, the focus of Doctrine and Covenants 98 and Jesus’s teachings in the New Testament are proactive admonitions to love our enemies, to forbear, to forgive, and to continue to seek peace, even when our enemies pursue war. In the brief mention of the justification for violence (D&C 98:31), God clarifies that justification is not sanctification. While a victim may be justified in returning violence for violence, it’s not pleasing to God. Continuing to sue for peace is God’s preferred model.^[vi]

God goes even further in verses 38 through 48, emphasizing forbearance and forgiveness, even when an enemy doesn’t repent. God urges the Saints to bring the unrepentant to God and, after all of that, if there is no repentance, the matter is to be left entirely in the hands of the Lord (see D&C 98:38–48). The section even uses the language of Jesus in Matthew, imploring Joseph to forgive his enemies, “until seventy times seven” (D&C 98:40).

Forbearance, repentance, forgiveness, and patience are hard enough to practice with family members or others we know well. Even the people closest to us are sometimes hard to love. Rolling away stones with respect to the people we love, let alone our enemies, is challenging. It becomes infinitely more complicated when 70 x 7 must be practiced more broadly with strangers, people, or groups we don’t know or have never met.

We may be justified, after a time, to retaliate against those who hurt us. But retaliation does not further the work of God. It causes enmity and blame. It may feel good, but its fruits don’t bring salvation for either the avenger or the avenged. On the other hand, love invites a turning of stony hearts into fleshy ones. It invites both victim and victimizer to Jesus. It may be challenging, but it is the only path to sustainable peace.

Hyrum Mack Smith and Janne Mattson Sjödahl wrote a commentary on section 98 in 1923 that summed up the message aptly:

For a time, Joseph and other Church members followed God’s counsel. But it didn’t take long for their patience to wane. Upon hearing about his people’s plight, Joseph wrote in a letter that he was driven nearly to “madness and desperation.”^[viii] Joseph prayed that his enemies would “go down to the pit and give pl[a]ce for thy Saints.”

A few days later, he wrote that he was ready to respond to the violence with more violence if God would give the go-ahead: “We wait the Comand of God to do whatever he plese and if <he> shall say go up to Zion and defend thy Brotheren by <the sword> we fly and we count not our live[s] dear to us.”^[ix]

Members of the Church were suffering and baffled that God had not defeated their enemies. It wasn’t long before the revelatory guidance in section 98 faded into the fog of war. By November of 1833, the Latter-day Saints were exchanging fire with the Missourians. When two Missourians were killed in the exchange, it unleashed more violence as the Missourians began to believe that the members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints were intent on “butchering us all.”^[x]

Latter-day Saints fled Jackson County to Clay County. However, a similar pattern emerged as Missourians complained about their new neighbors’ insular behavior, political beliefs, and strange religious practices. Latter-day Saints were forced to leave their homes again in 1836 at gunpoint.

Even after agreeing to settle in Caldwell County, a new county set aside only for members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, violence continued. As more and more settlers arrived, Joseph began purchasing property in neighboring Daviess Country and Carroll County, raising the alarm again of a Latter-day Saint takeover, and violence escalated to war. Driven by fear and ignorance, the Missourians did horrific things. People were murdered and raped. Homes were burned. Vexatious lawsuits multiplied. Even though the Latter-day Saint settlers tried to follow section 98 briefly, many eventually chose vengeance.

On July 4, 1838, Sidney Rigdon, the first counselor in the First Presidency of the Church, delivered a fiery speech and promised “. . . a war of extermination, for we will follow them, till the last drop of their blood is spilled, or else they will have to exterminate us: for we will carry the seat of war to their own houses, and their own families, and one party or the other shall be utterly destroyed.”^[xi]

Some Latter-day Saint historians have argued that Rigdon’s speech was meant to de-escalate, not escalate the conflict. They believe Rigdon “deliberately formulated [the speech] to comply with the requirements of” Doctrine and Covenants 98. Specifically, they argue that Rigdon’s speech was an attempt to “solemnly warn” the enemies of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as required by Doctrine and Covenants 98:28. If the warning (which The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saint Church went to great pains to publish and distribute) went unheeded, the Latter-day Saints would be “justified” to “rewardest him according to his works” (D&C 98:31).^[xii]

In an August 1838 editorial, Joseph Smith wrote that given the history of displacement, the Latter-day Saints could not and would not be relocated again. He reiterated that if the warning were ignored, the Latter-day Saints would not “be mobed any more without taking vengeance.”^[xiii]

Unfortunately, some Missourians saw Rigdon’s “warning” as a threat and a significant escalation in the conflict: “Missouri newspapers regularly cited it in subsequent months as evidence that the Saints meant to defy the law and wage war against other Missouri citizens.”^[xiv] Fearing for their own lives, Missouri citizens formed militias and began attacking Latter-day Saints settlers in Daviess and eventually Caldwell counties. In October 1838, forty Latter-day Saints were massacred at Haun’s Mill, and Joseph surrendered to the Missouri militia to prevent any more bloodshed.^[xv]

Joseph, Rigdon, and several others were arrested, court-martialed, and almost executed on the spot. The prisoners were eventually sent to Liberty Jail to await trial. It is there that Joseph, beaten, exhausted, and on the verge of death, pleads with God for redemption in a letter excerpted in Doctrine and Covenants 121.

What War Is Good For

Once we begin to hate our enemy, instead of loving them, we begin to feel that throwing stones is justified, and the conflict escalates. I call this a conflict tornado.^[xvi]

The way we see others influences how they see us, and how they see us influences how we see them. When we no longer love our enemies as brothers and sisters in the human family, we start throwing stones, which, in turn, invites them to see us the same way, fueling an escalating spiral into conflict that often leaves us dumbfounded on how we got to such a horrible place. ^[xvii] Once the conflict tornado starts spinning, several predictable patterns emerge.

When we see our brothers and sisters as enemies in conflict, our tactics in conflict transition from soft (e.g., compliments or debates) to hard (e.g., threats and force).^[xviii] The issues we fight over also shift from small ones (e.g., “You left your socks on the floor!”) to big ones (e.g., “I’m not sure you ever loved me!”). Our goals shift from changing others or winning to hurting those we conflict with even if these actions hurt us, too. Conflicts also tend to increase in size from two individuals to entire families, organizations, or even nations.^[xix]

Conflict escalation generally follows two models: the contender-defender model and the conflict spiral model.^[xx]The contender-defender model occurs when one person is pushing for change while the other person is primarily in a defensive position.^[xxi] The conflict spiral model (or the conflict tornado) happens through a series of actions and reactions. Each party keeps escalating the conflict in reaction to the other party escalating the conflict.^[xxii]

Most of the people I work with think they are stuck in a contender-defender model: the person they are in conflict with is the aggressor and they are playing defense. Or, if they started the conflict, they justify their actions by claiming they are only intervening for the other person’s good. Both patterns are evident in Joseph’s letters and Rigdon’s speech as violence escalated between Church members and Missourians. “The more innocent we think we are and the guiltier we think the other side is, the more we feel justified in doing things in the name of ending a conflict that only exacerbates it.”^[xxiii]

The contender-defender model is the proper explanation for what’s going on in some cases of conflict and can explain some of the early conflicts the Latter-day Saints settlers faced in Missouri. We can be victims and be acting in a purely defensive manner. However, what happened in Missouri eventually grew into a conflict tornado.

That is what God explains so eloquently to Joseph in section 98 and perhaps what Rigdon, Joseph, and others got wrong by relying on Doctrine and Covenants 98:31’s justification for retaliation after solemnly warning their enemies instead of relying on Doctrine and Covenants 98:30’s promise that “if thou wilt spare him, thou shalt be rewarded for thy righteousness; and also thy children and thy children’s children unto the third and fourth generation.”

It is hard to see that we are feeding and keeping a conflict tornado alive. It is hard to have the courage to change. For those like me who stumble on the path of Jesus’s way, it is easy to justify throwing stones. There have been times when I want God to help me fight, to help me overpower my enemies, and to tell me that I am right and they are wrong. While the desire to stop evil and injustice might be good, does returning evil for evil, hate for hate, and violence for violence ever really look like Jesus’s way?

Too often, my heart has been at war, or I’ve felt hopeless against a stampede of hate. I, like Joseph, have felt shocked and overwhelmed by the call of 70 × 7. To “renounce war and proclaim peace” in our families and personal relationships is hard enough (Doctrine and Covenants 98:16). In the face of the most complicated, most complex, and long-lasting conflicts of our time, Jesus’s call for 70 × 7 truly feels audacious.

Proclaiming peace has never been easy. Following Jesus’s example has actual costs. Renouncing war and proclaiming peace like Jesus will be inconvenient at best and often feel downright dangerous.

The Influence of Love

Joseph’s plea for vengeance in Liberty Jail after all the suffering he and his people had endured is very human. Joseph pleads with God to soften his heart and have compassion toward Joseph and his people while simultaneously asking God to “Let thine anger be kindled against our enemies; and, in the fury of thine heart, with thy sword avenge us of our wrongs” (Doctrine and Covenants 121: 3, 5). His plea can be outlined like this: Mercy for us and justice for our enemies.

God promises neither vengeance nor force. He calls Joseph, once again, to renounce war and proclaim peace. God begins, “My son, peace be unto thy soul” (D&C 121:7). This greeting may seem like a small thing. But I think it’s one of the first keys to understanding section 121. When we are engulfed in fear, our responses to conflict typically make things worse, not better. We become blinded to the humanity of those with whom we are in conflict and simultaneously blinded to how our responses to conflict make the situation worse.

The parts of our brains that we need to creatively problem-solve shut down. With large planks in our eyes, our moral imagination fails us. We often end up doing the opposite of what will help us. We lose sight of how Jesus sees us and our opponents, and we start looking for stones to throw.

God starts by comforting Joseph. He promises that the pain will end and that joy is coming. He reminds Joseph about his friends, validates his pain, and later promises him pure knowledge that will greatly enlarge the soul (D&C 121:42).

God creates a safe space for Joseph to see things the way God sees them, even though Joseph is suffering physically and spiritually. He pours out love despite Joseph’s mistakes. He does not punish. He rolls away stones. That’s important because the pure knowledge God will offer Joseph and the Saints will almost be impossible to hear from a space of fear. He tells Joseph that if he can feel enduring peace, he will triumph over all his enemies (D&C 121:8).

God then assures Joseph that those who lack charity towards him and the Saints will suffer the consequences of their actions. Failing to live in Jesus’s way comes with natural consequences. God says that they will be blinded because of their hatred and that the pain they intend to inflict on others “may come upon themselves to the very uttermost; that they may be disappointed also, and their hopes may be cut off” (Doctrine and Covenants 121:13–14). They can expect that:

Their basket shall not be full, their houses and their barns shall perish, and they themselves shall be despised by those that flattered them. They shall not have right to the priesthood, nor their posterity after them from generation to generation. It had been better for them that a millstone had been hanged about their necks, and they drowned in the depth of the sea. (Doctrine and Covenants 121:20–22)

I don’t think God is promising Joseph that He will punish the people who vex the Latter-day Saints. I believe God is saying that these calamities are the natural consequences of choosing war instead of peace. There is an intergenerational cost to hate, mistreatment, and violence. All those involved in conflict suffer these consequences.

In the next few verses, God discusses judgment, damnation, and hell. Anyone caught in the middle of a conflict tornado knows exactly what these things feel like. Joseph’s desire for God to exact vengeance on his enemies will not bring the peace that Joseph thinks it will. Instead, revenge brings more pain and stops us from moving on with our lives. “The power he wants to see wreaked on others is the wrong kind of power,” writes James Faulconer, “God warns him where the demand for that kind of power will lead, to an ‘Amen’ to personal growth toward godliness.”^[xxv]

Jesus’s way is different; Doctrine and Covenants 121: 33–46 lays it out powerfully. True power doesn’t come from military or heavenly might. It comes from love. It comes from living the second great commandment. The power of the priesthood cannot rest on control or dominion.

Behold, there are many called, but few are chosen. And why are they not chosen? Because their hearts are set so much upon the things of this world, and aspire to the honors of men, that they do not learn this one lesson—that the rights of the priesthood are inseparably connected with the powers of heaven, and that the powers of heaven cannot be controlled nor handled only upon the principles of righteousness.

That they may be conferred upon us, it is true; but when we undertake to cover our sins, or to gratify our pride, our vain ambition, or to exercise control or dominion or compulsion upon the souls of the children of men, in any degree of unrighteousness, behold, the heavens withdraw themselves; the Spirit of the Lord is grieved; and when it is withdrawn, Amen to the priesthood or the authority of that man.

Behold, ere he is aware, he is left unto himself, to kick against the pricks, to persecute the saints, and to fight against God. We have learned by sad experience that it is the nature and disposition of almost all men, as soon as they get a little authority, as they suppose, they will immediately begin to exercise unrighteous dominion.

Hence many are called, but few are chosen. (D&C 121:34–40)

These verses have historically been read as a rebuke toward the people who betrayed Joseph. It’s a fair reading. However, I don’t think the counsel here is limited to Joseph’s enemies. There is a lesson to be learned here for Joseph, his followers, and us today.

Joseph and the Latter-day Saints had indeed been called. But had they been chosen? The power they wished to wield against their enemies was powerless when used without love. And while establishing Zion by obtaining land and a safe place to gather was essential to God, how they obtained those things mattered. To paraphrase Gandhi, the means are the ends in the making.^[xxvi]

The heavens withdraw when we are proud, vain, and ambitious, when we lack the humility to admit to and repent of our sins, when we collect and throw stones, and when we try to use force or compulsion. Our relationship with God is extrinsic, not intrinsic, in our stone-throwing moments. God becomes nothing more than a weapon for us to wield.

In section 98, God gave Latter-day Saints the game plan to righteously triumph with their enemies—not triumph over them, but triumph with them. While there were well-intentioned attempts to follow the counsel in section 98, fear, frustration, anger, and the need to protect themselves took precedence. The heavens withdrew. By fighting their enemies, they were fighting against God, for God had commanded them to love their enemies because their enemies, too, were his children.

Given the fear and suffering the Latter-day Saints experienced in Missouri, that they failed to endure in practicing 70 × 7 is understandable. I have failed, repeatedly, with much less provocation than they faced. I do not mean to judge them. However, it is important to understand why their endeavor to build Zion failed. Zion is a place where people dwell “in righteousness” with “no poor among them,” united with “one heart and one mind” (Moses 7:18). Zion will not grow out of violence.

For Zion to be established and for the blessings of heaven to flow the way the Saints expected, we have to follow Jesus’s way. And this is the way:

No power or influence can or ought to be maintained by virtue of the priesthood, only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned; by kindness, and pure knowledge, which shall greatly enlarge the soul without hypocrisy, and without guile—reproving betimes with sharpness, when moved upon by the Holy Ghost; and then showing forth afterwards an increase of love toward him whom thou hast reproved, lest he esteem thee to be his enemy; that he may know that thy faithfulness is stronger than the cords of death.

Let thy bowels also be full of charity towards all men, and to the household of faith, and let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly; then shall thy confidence wax strong in the presence of God; and the doctrine of the priesthood shall distil upon thy soul as the dews from heaven.

The Holy Ghost shall be thy constant companion, and thy scepter an unchanging scepter of righteousness and truth; and thy dominion shall be an everlasting dominion, and without compulsory means it shall flow unto thee forever and ever. (Doctrine and Covenants 121:41–46)

Jesus’s way is persuasion, patience, kindness, meekness, and pure knowledge. What is the pure knowledge that God refers to? I’ve read several excellent explanations. I want to offer another one:

The purest knowledge I can think of is seeing each of us the way God sees us. This change of heart gives us the courage to overcome whatever fear holds us back from loving the way he loves. This is the pure knowledge we need to practice 70 × 7. I believe seeing others this clearly is also a key to understanding what it means to reprove “betimes with sharpness.” James Faulconer’s reading of this verse is powerful.

If, after using gentleness, meekness, and unfeigned love to influence others, reproof is needed, it should be given early (the meaning of the word betimes) and with sharpness (v. 43). But does sharpness mean “severity” or does it mean “acuity”? I believe that the second meaning fits the context better than the first. We sometimes read verse 43 to mean “occasionally reproving severely, when the Holy Ghost tells us to,” but I believe it means “reproving early with acuity, when the Holy Ghost moves us to.” Reproof, too, must be gentle, meek, and a demonstration of unfeigned love—as God’s response has been to Joseph Smith’s complaint.^[xxvii]

According to verse 43, any sort of reproving should be done with an increase of love so that whoever we give feedback doesn’t misunderstand it as an attack. They should feel the love coming from us so much that they know we are eternally faithful to them. Faulconer concludes, “That is what it looks like to have received the knowledge of God, the ability to act in our relationships with others as we see him acting in his relationships with us, in a faithfulness that is stronger than death, indeed so strong that it has overcome death in order to rescue us.”^[xxviii]

This is the way Jesus works in our lives to heal all that afflicts us. As his disciples, we further his work toward the least of these by trying to do the same.

Hope

Now, you might say follow Jesus’s way is not practical. It doesn’t reflect the realities of my pain or the evil that exists in this dangerous world.

You might say that violence, hatred, destructive conflict, and evil will always be with us. Our best efforts at peacemaking will be blown back in our faces by the wind of opposition. If our hearts are broken and our spirits contrite, we’ll be vulnerable and trampled underfoot by those who wish us harm. We live in a world where an eye for an eye is the only language our enemies understand.

How can anyone have optimism in times like these?

All of us who have tried imperfectly to follow Jesus have had similar concerns. In my work as a mediator, I see violence, hatred, anger, greed, poverty, and hopelessness. I often feel overwhelmed by the intense suffering that so many people carry. We live in a world with many reasons for losing hope.

When a newspaper posed the question, “What’s Wrong with the World?” the Catholic thinker G. K. Chesterton wrote in response: “The answer to the question ‘What is wrong?’ is, or should be, ‘I am wrong.’”^[xxviv]

Too often, I am failing. It’s not only the world or others. It’s me. I feel overwhelmed by the enormity of the call of 70 × 7. It is easy to become discouraged. I’ve experienced so much failure. I’ve struggled to forgive and to help others forgive. I’ve struggled to choose reconciliation. I’ve been part of more failed mediations and peacemaking interventions than I can count.

However, I’m also struck by another reality—less reported but equally valid. Amid these dangerous times, so much good is going on around us. Everywhere I go, even amid significant conflict, I am amazed at the charity, selflessness, and hard work others do to ease people's suffering.

Thousands of people work tirelessly every day to work with families who are struggling, to relieve poverty, help prevent and treat the devastating scourge of disease, attend to refugees, work for the civil and human rights of others, stop violence and war, and heal the victims of such atrocities. They risk their lives, health, and livelihoods to save thousands, even millions of lives.

Millions are doing Jesus’s work of restoration in their families and communities. Devoted parents patiently love their children through physical and mental illness. Others take in children from wounded families and help them feel loved and at home. They volunteer in organizations and do the holy work of healing the wounded and bridging divides.

In the Middle East, where I have spent much of my career working, even amid war, I’m constantly amazed at the number of people on both sides of the conflict who, despite often suffering immensely themselves, risk their lives and well-being in an attempt to bring peace.

Everywhere I turn, even amid so much pain, destruction, and chaos, I see the spirit of Jesus working through individuals partnering with him in that sacred and vital work or peacemaking.

People are on the move.

Love is on the move.

Peace is on the move.

God is on the move.

The question is are we going to be on the move with him?^[xxvv]

Jesus calls all of us, the flawed and sinful, to be the peacebuilders the world needs. He’s calling you and me in his great work of restoration. It takes courage to answer, “Here am I. Send me!” (Isaiah 6:8).

To all of those who answer Jesus’s call to “come follow me” with “send me,” Jesus has a word for you: “Blessed.” The Greek word is makarioi, meaning “supremely blest.”^[xxvvi] It is the ultimate form of blessing. Jesus promises to put a wind at your back and give you a rising road if you follow him. God will bless you, supremely.

So don’t lose hope.

Don’t fall into the thought patterns that lead to war.

Reverse them.

Instead ask:

1. How can I help all sides mired in destructive conflict?

2. How can I see the humanity in all sides of the conflict?

3. How can I practice non-violence in thought, word and deed toward the people I am in conflict with?

4. How do I embrace that peace is only possible through finding alternatives to violence in times like these.

5. How do I live into the idea that conflict can and should be constructive, even sacred. That conflict is a living relational space between us. In conflict there is no “me” or “them,” only “we.” 

“Blessed Are the Peacemakers; For They Shall Be Called the Children of God”

Blessed are they who transform destructive conflict into constructive conflict.

Blessed are they who create space for the eyes of our hearts to be enlightened.

Blessed are they who persuade us with lovingkindness to roll away our stones.

Blessed are they who open their arms and embrace us, even when our hearts are still at war.

Blessed are they who are willing to risk their lives and dedicate themselves to the sacred work of restoration— at home and everywhere else where peace does not exist.

Blessed are they who see through conflict to Jesus’s ultimate truth: All of us are children of God, and God wants to bring all His children home.

70x7 in Idaho next week

I’ll be in Rexburg, Idaho for two events on Thursday, June 26th.

The first is a lecture entitled “The Peace We Want vs. The Peace We Need” and it takes place on BYU-Idaho’s campus, RICKS 173 at 11:30.

The second is a workshop where I will use some of the principles from 70x7 to help participants navigate a conflict they are wrestling with in their own life. That two-hour workshop will be from 5 pm to 7 pm in RICK 173 on BYU-Idaho’s campus.

All are welcome to attend!

^[i] Walter Wink, Jesus and Nonviolence: A Third Way (Cleveland: Fortress Press, 2003), 11–12.

^[ii] See Mohandis K. Gandhi, “What Jesus Means to Me,” ed. R. K. Prabhu (Ahmedabad, India: Navajivan Publishing House, 1959). www.mkgandhi.org/ebks/whatjesusmeanstome.pdf:

Of all the things I read, what remained with me forever was that Jesus came almost to give a new law—though he of course had said he had not come to give a new law, but tack something on to the old Mosaic law. Well, he changed it so that it became a new law—not an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth, but to be ready to receive two blows when only one was given, and to go two miles when you were asked to go one (12);

The Sermon on the Mount went straight to my heart. I compared it with the Gita. The verses, “But I say unto you, that ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if any man take away thy coat let him have thy cloak too” (3);

Jesus put in a picturesque and telling manner the great doctrine of nonviolent non-co-operation. Your non-co-operation with your opponent is violent when you give a blow for a blow, and is ineffective in the long run. Your non-co-operation is non-violent when you give your opponent all in the place of just what he needs. You have disarmed him once for all by your apparent co-operation, which in effect is complete non-co-operation (38).

^[iii] Gandhi, directed by Richard Attenborough (1982; Culver City, CA: Sony Pictures Home Entertainment, 2007).

^[iv] The historical introduction for Sidney’s July 4th Oration gives a strong overview of the problems Joseph and the Church faced in Kirtland and Missouri. See “Historical Introduction” at The Joseph Smith Papers, “Appendix 3: Discourse, circa 4 July 1838.” www.josephsmithpapers.org/paper-summary/appendix-3-discourse-circa-4-july-1838/1#historical-introOr.

^[v] Richard Lyman Bushman, Joseph Smith: Rough Stone Rolling (New York: Knopf, 2005), 222–23.

^[vi] See Mason and Pulsipher, Proclaim Peace, 125–47, which delves deeply into the crucial concept of justified versus sanctified violence.

^[vii] Hyrum M. Smith and Janne M. Sjodahl, The Doctrine and Covenants, Containing Revelations given to Joseph Smith, Jr., the Prophet, with an Introduction and Historical and Exegetical Notes (Salt Lake City, UT: The Deseret News Press, 1923), 623.

^[viii] Bushman, Joseph Smith, 225.

^[ix] Ibid., 226, citing Dean C. Jessee (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1984), 311-312.

^[x] Bushman, Joseph Smith, 228.

^[xi] See Joseph Smith Papers, “Appendix 3: Discourse, circa 4 July 1838.”

^[xii] See commentary on Rigdon’s July 4th speech at Joseph Smith Papers, “Appendix 3: Discourse, circa 4 July 1838.”

^[xiii] Ibid.

^[xiv] Ibid.

^[xv] Bushman, Joseph Smith, 366.

^[xvi] For a full discussion of conflict escalation and conflict tornados, see Ford, Dangerous Love, 97–115.

^[xviii] See Dean Pruitt and Sung Hee Kim, Social Conflict: Escalation, Stalemate, and Settlement, 3rd ed. (Boston: McGraw, 2004), 89–91.

^[xix] Ibid.

^[xx] See Pruitt and Kim, Social Conflict, 92–98 for an in-depth explanation of both models.

^[xxi] Ibid.

^[xxii] Ibid., 99.

^[xxiii] Ford, Dangerous Love, 102.

^[xxiv] King, Strength to Love, 116–17.

^[xxv] James E. Faulconer, Thinking Otherwise: Theological Explorations of Joseph Smith’s Revelations, Living Faith series (Provo, UT: Neal A. Maxwell Institute for Religious Scholarship, Brigham Young University, 2020), 123.

^[xxvi] Mohandas K. Gandhi in Young India (a New Delhi newspaper), July 17, 1924, “They say, ‘means are after all means.’ I would say, ‘means are after all everything’. As the means so the end. . . . There is no wall of separation between the means and the end.”

^[xxvii] Faulconer, Thinking Otherwise, 147.

^[xxviii] Ibid., 148.

^[xxviv] G. K. Chesterton, “Letter to the Daily News,” August 16, 1905. Text found at www.jordanmposs.com/blog/2019/2/27/whats-wrong-chesterton.

^[xxvv] See Bono, On the Move: A Speech (Nashville: Thomas Nelson Press, 2007).

^[xxvvi] See Strong’s Greek Concordance, s.v. “3107,” accessed June 22, 2024. biblehub.com/matthew/5-10.htm#lexicon.

I’ve had the awesome opportunity to work as a producer with Faith Matters, the One America Movement, Patrick Mason and filmmaker Tay Steele on Where Peace Begins, a series of eight films that dive powerfully into how to navigate conflict in our lives.

Here are all eight films. We filmed them in a particular order to introduce the series, moving from intrapersonal to interpersonal to large socio-political conflict.

If you haven’t had a chance to watch them yet … I think they can be a powerful tool to help you navigate the most difficult conflicts in your life.

Hello to Conflict

The first video is Hello to Conflict. In the video, I recount my journey as a young missionary. During an encounter with a woman, I realized how fear had been hindering my ability to see people as Jesus did.

Questions for Personal Reflection

As you watch this video, we invite you to set aside your phone, find a quiet space, and ponder the following questions that Chad’s video prompted. You might journal or find someone to share your thoughts with. You can also respond in a comment below.

1. Where do you find yourself today? Where do you feel like you are in exile right now—whether emotionally, spiritually, or in your relationships?

2. Who else is involved in your story of your exile? What has their story been, their experience? Where do you think they find themselves, today?

3. What would peace feel like, in your circumstances? What do you picture, when you imagine the possibility of return, restoration, or reconciliation?

4. Shalom means both "peace" and "hello." What might change in your life if you saw peace not as an end goal, but as an invitation to show up and engage more fully with the present moment?

Love Casts Out Fear

Our second video, Love Casts out Fear with Desmond Lomax dropped on Tuesday. In this video Desmond, a terrific therapist, teacher and dad, shares a tragic story from his family that taught him that he shouldn’t wait until circumstances improve, injustices resolve, and proof arrives that he is “good enough” before loving others unconditionally.

Questions for Personal Reflection

As you watch this video, we invite you to set aside your phone, find a quiet space, and ponder the following questions that Desmond’s video prompted. You might journal or find someone to share your thoughts with. You can also respond in a comment below.

1. Desmond observes that we often fear we are inadequate or too flawed to let ourselves love others fully. Do you see this in yourself? Are there weaknesses or inadequacies that you assume make you incapable of love?

2. We often think “unconditional love” applies to how we treat other people; it also applies to how we think about ourselves. How does your heart respond as you imagine that you, right now, are worthy of unconditional love? How do the challenges in your life look differently?

3. Think of a current conflict in your life that involves another person. Do you have an expectation for the other person to change? What would happen if you dropped this expectation?

4. Where in your life are you “waiting” for a situation to change before you will allow yourself to love? What if you just decided to love, right now?

Truth in Conflict

In our third video, “Truth in Conflict”—we hear from Jennifer Finlayson-Fife about how she and her sister healed their relationship after years of emotional distance. The distance was sustained for years by partial truths they were hanging on to; both of them could see ways the other person was in the wrong, or was being unfair. While they weren’t technically incorrect, it is only when they moved towards acknowledging the other person’s perspective—the truth they had been avoiding—that the possibility for genuine trust and closeness returned.

Putting ideas into action

After watching Jennifer’s video, think of a conflict you are having in your life. Use the following exercise to consider how truth can bring back closeness and understanding.

1. Think through your explanation of the conflict, and the other person’s explanation of the conflict. Where do your stories align, and where do they diverge? How do you both characterize the other?

2. Consider the exercise that Jennifer went through in the video: If points B, C, D, and E of the other person’s explanation feel false, but A feels correct, focus on A instead of B, C, D, or E. Where is the other person correct, and inviting you to see truth?

3. Think of how you can communicate to the other person that you acknowledge A without justification. Don’t provide excuses or a long explanation that lessens our responsibility. Own it. Say, “I can see how my [words, actions, etc.] have caused you pain. I am so sorry.”

4. Offer to change. Offer to fix the mistake that you make. Give them a reason to trust that what has happened in the past won’t happen again.

5. If after doing all of this, the person you are in conflict with refuses to acknowledge their mistakes, offer grace instead of condemnation.

A Peaceful Heart

When going through her divorce, Dr. LaShawn Williams once leaned her head against the wall and imagined she was leaning her head on the shoulder of Jesus. She prayed for a heart at peace.

Conflict often makes us feel helpless, unsure of ourselves and unsure of the future. In our fourth video, “A Peaceful Heart,” LaShawn shares about opening her heart when her life situation felt beyond her control. She found deep wisdom in The Peacegiver by James Ferrell, who used the language “ungird your heart.” Ungirding usually refers to relinquishing our weapons. When we ungird our hearts, LaShawn explains, we find that we don’t need the violence that we thought we needed.

Putting ideas into action

After watching LaShawn’s video, think of a conflict you are having in your life. Use the following exercise to consider how you can obtain a heart at peace.

1. Go to the mountaintop. Our view of others tends to get mired in the mud of anger and justification when we are wrestling with conflict. Find a place, metaphorically, that lets you rise above all of that. It could be a piece of music, a sunrise or sunset, exercise, or a holy place that elevates your thinking and heightens your senses.

2. Ask yourself how a loving God, loving parents, or a loving friend might see the person you are in conflict with. Can you, for just a moment, see the person you are in conflict through that new lens?

3. Ask yourself, how can the faith I have in myself or in God be extended to them? How can my faith connect to their faith in a way that allows us to collaboratively solve our problems together?

4. Take the first step. Be proactive. Exercise faith in the possibility of reconciliation by reaching out to them in faith and love, not knowing what will come next.

Loving Our Enemies

As a young woman, Pastor White would sit on her bed with clenched fists, repeating, “I will forgive. I will forgive.” The choice to forgive, as Jamie shares in this video, “Loving your Enemies” is a choice to re-enter life after being transformed by tragedy.

In our fifth Where Peace Begins video, Pastor White tells her story and it is one of the most powerful sermons I’ve heard on the power of loving our enemies. Note: this video contains discussion of sexual assault. Though the story shared is one of resilience and transformation, viewer discretion is advised.

Putting ideas into action

After watching Jamie’s video, think of a tragedy or disappointment that has permanently changed your life. The following questions, we hope, will help you glimpse how this tragedy can

1. How has this tragedy transformed you? Bring to mind all the transformations, both internally and in your external circumstances, whether good or bad. How would your life be different, absent this tragedy?

2. Can you identify gifts that have come through this transformation? Are there any areas where God has given you beauty for ashes?

3. Bring to mind the wounds and the scars that the tragedy left behind. What would it mean to make these scars into your greatest treasures? When you think about this, what do you feel called to do?

4. Was there anyone else involved in this situation? Take a moment to think about them. They too have experienced pain, disappointment. They too carry scars. What does it do for you when you see their pain? What do you feel called to do?

Start Close In

Our sixth Where Peace Begins video, Start Close In, with Thomas McConkie includes this powerful poem from David Whyte.

Start close in,
don’t take the second step
or the third,
start with the first
thing
close in,
the step
you don’t want to take.

- David Whyte

Thomas teaches that if we pay intimate attention to our hearts, we can recognize where we feel that pinch of disturbance—that place that we want to avoid. If we have the courage and humility to show up there with love, new life opens up.

“My belief is that conflict is grace in disguise. When we unmask it and realize what an opportunity it is to follow it into a new life, we give thanks that God has blessed us with this conflict.”

Putting ideas into action

After watching Thomas’s video, think of a conflict you are having in your life. Use the following exercise to consider how you can “start close in.”

1. Ask yourself, what aspects of this conflict pinch or “disturb” you? What is that disturbance asking you to see? Where does it call you should start?

2. Thomas identifies the values of justice, mercy, and humility as guides that helped him navigate his first step -- the one he didn’t want to take. Those are all powerful values, but they may not be yours. What are the core values that, when you are being your best self, guide you in your relationships with others? Brené Brown lists a number of key values that may help you get the moral imagination firing here: https://brenebrown.com/resources/dare-to-lead-list-of-values/

3. After you’ve identified those values, ask yourself the questions …

   • What is one behavior that supports this value?

   • What is one behavior that contradicts this value?

4. Now comes the action part. Thomas decided to have weekly Sunday dinners with his family. While he found the experience “disturbing” after hundreds of dinners, something started changing within him. Choose one behavior that you can apply to the person you are in conflict with and take the first step. Not the second or the third step – the first step, the step you don’t want to take.

The Breath of God

In our seventh Where Peace Begins film, The Breath of God, Imam Rashied Omar reflects on his experience as a young activist and spiritual leader, showing how interfaith solidarity and deep faith can transform even the most unjust of societies.

“Justice, from a religious perspective, is affirming the full dignity of the other. To know that every human being has within him or herself the breath of God. If I offend you, I am offending the breath of God.”

It’s a moving account that show’s how a lifelong commitment to faith prepared him for spiritual leadership during turbulent political times.

Putting ideas into action

Rashied’s video is about the link between our spiritual lives and the moral imagination that we can take with us into society. In his book The Moral Imagination, John Paul Lederach in offers four powerful ways to do this.

• See yourself in a relational web: “Imagine ourselves in a web of relationships that includes our enemies.” Begin to see how all of us are deeply connected in relationship. There is no “me” without “we.”

• Be curious about others’ joys and grievances: “Sustain a paradoxical curiosity that embraces complexity without reliance on dualistic polarity.” Remain curious about others. Seek understanding. Understand that human beings are different and complex, but that there are also key things that connect us together.

• Break the script: “Belief in and pursuit of the creative act.” Break out of old patterns of interaction. Find new and creative ways of connecting. Use food, holidays, sports, music, art, literature -- all of the tools that inspire human creativity to find deeper and more meaningful ways to connect.

• Take risks: Acceptance of the inherent risk of stepping into conflict. When we are stuck in conflict we often wait for the other person to take the first step. It feels safer, less vulnerable that way. Being the first person to open up our arms and take the risk of embrace creates space for the other person to know you want to reconcile and it’s safe.

From Exile to Return

In our eighth and final video of Where Peace Begins, From Exile to Return, Patrick Mason shares what he's learned about creativity and peace from survivors of the Rwanda genocide. It’s a powerful conclusion to our series on peacemaking.

Finally ,,,

Having now watched all eight videos in this series, consider the following:

1. In thinking about conflict in your life, think about the conditions that you wish were different—maybe another person’s attitude or behavior, or for a specific life stage to end. Think of all the things you are waiting to change before you show up willing to build and restore love. Consider writing these down.

2. Now, think about what it would mean to stop waiting for the conditions to be right and begin creating the conditions of peace today. As you look at the list of things you wish would change, do you think they really need to? Where is your own agency involved? What can you create, despite all you can’t change?

3. If you imagine this conflict like being stuck on a treadmill—the same dynamic happening over and over again—what would it look like to hop off the treadmill and introduce a new dynamic? How can you show up in a way that would be creative, innovative, surprising, fresh, and transformative?

4. These videos have been an exercise in expanding moral imagination. As you’ve watched and listened to these eight stories, has your own imagination for how to work through conflict been expanded? Have any thoughts, intuition, or flashes of inspiration come to you? Write these down in a place where you can come back to it regularly. Trust your own moral imagination.

Please let us know what you think of the video series and drop some comments below!

In my book Dangerous Love, I wrote about something called “The Most Dangerous Move.”

One way to visualize conflict is in terms of people who have turned away from each other. To transform a conflict from destructive to constructive, someone needs to turn toward the other person. By making the first move, a space opens up for the other person to turn.

During Dangerous Love workshops, I do an exercise where I invite a participant to come up out of the audience and stand back-to-back with me. While standing back-to-back, I elbow the person a few times, and soon the person starts elbowing me back. I then ask the group, “What’s going on?” Pretty quickly, they see that this is a metaphor for conflict. They say we can’t see each other, but we can feel each other. Then I ask the person I’m standing back-to-back with to turn first.

They almost always try to get in front of me. The second they get face-to-face with me, I always move away, keeping my back to them. The audience starts laughing. Usually, the person tries, at least one more time, to get face-to-face with me. Every time I turn away. The volunteer gets frustrated, and sometimes they try to grab me and force me to stand face-to-face with them. If they successfully force me to stand face-to-face, I shut my eyes. When the laughing dies down, I ask the audience what happened. They get it quickly. By trying to get in front of me, face-to-face, they are trying to get me to see them! The hope is that the conflict will go away if I see them. It’s a subtle, sophisticated way of blaming while appearing on the surface as an attempt to reconcile.

After we learn that trying to get people to see us isn’t turning first, I ask the person on stage to go back-to-back with me and try it again. They usually get it right this time. They turn around and stare at my back. They no longer try to force me to see them; they focus only on seeing me.

No matter how often I do the exercise, it always has a similar effect on me. Knowing that the person is staring at me and I can’t see them invites me to turn. But even if I never turn, it will never take away the rightness of what they are doing. Sometimes, all we can do is turn. When we turn, and others don’t turn toward us, we feel vulnerable as we open ourselves to the possibility of being hurt. There is peace in that. But is it enough?

Once, at a workshop where I was doing the back-to-back exercise, the person I called up onstage did something that no one had ever done. When I asked her to turn first, she turned around and then embraced me from behind. Her arms wrapped around my chest, and she rested her head on my shoulders. I didn’t know what to do. It was so intimate and vulnerable for both of us. The experience was so much different than the experience of having someone stand behind me, staring at my back. The embrace had much more power.

While I still believe the concept of “Turning First” is essential, I think this idea I call “The Risk of Embrace” in Seventy Times Seven calls for something much more transformative and potentially dangerous. What that woman did was more than see me. She initiated grace and took the risk of embrace. In conflict, it often takes one person to initiate a process that can lead to collaboration and reconciliation. It takes one person to take the risk of embrace and initiate grace willingly. Finding the courage to do so can completely de-escalate a conflict tornado and open space for peace.

However, doing so involves significant risk. The other person may not turn. They may keep the eyes of their heart closed. They may continue to throw stones in ways that are now even more hurtful because we are no longer protected the way we were before. Embraces can be dangerous.

Miroslav Volf writes in his book Exclusion and Embrace writes that embrace has four components: “opening the arms, waiting, closing the arms, and opening them again.”

Here’s a short video clip of me talking about this principle at the Compass last month.

First, we open our arms. When we do so, we signal that we are opening ourselves up to our enemies. We are inviting them to come into our space. It is a signal that we desire to move from a state of “you” and “I” into a state of “we.”

Second, we wait. We honor the agency of others to accept our invitation or to turn away. We patiently create space for others to make their move, on their timeline, toward us.

Those first two parts, opening our arms toward someone with whom we’ve been in conflict and waiting, are scary. They involve significant risks. We do this without knowing what the outcome will be. While we can open our arms, only the other person controls whether they will step into that space. We exercise power and then, in turn, give it up. For a while, this state is nonsymmetrical. We have lowered ourselves. We have taken off our armor. We have given them a cheek to smite if they wish. We are vulnerable.

Volf writes:

I open my arms, make a movement of the self toward the other, the enemy, and do not know whether I will be misunderstood, despised, even violated or whether my action will be appreciated, supported, and reciprocated. I can become a savior or a victim— possibly both. Embrace is grace, and “grace is gamble, always.”

After opening our arms and waiting, the third step is to close our arms gently around them if they make a move toward us. We hold them. We move from self-preservation to us-preservation. Two become one. This is the payoff of grace—the embrace moves from theoretical to real.

Finally, we reopen our arms. We reassert the individual humanity of the person we have embraced. They are free to come and go as they please. Our arms are open again toward them.

Volf concludes that “a genuine embrace cannot leave both or either completely unchanged.”

Here are the questions I ask people who I’m working with when they start feeling a desire to risk embrace.

1. What am I afraid of? What is keeping me from opening my arms? What’s the worst that can happen? What’s the best? Is the cost of keeping my arms closed worth not reconciling?

2. What does opening my arms look like in this conflict? How can I signal to the person with whom I’m in conflict that I want to embrace? How do I show them that I want “you” and “me” to become “we” again? Note that the embrace doesn’t have to be a literal hug. It can be words, a letter, a song, or art. Get creative! What would signal my intent to them?

3. What does patience look like? What happens if I start sinking? How can I wait, with my arms open, if they don’t immediately rush to embrace me? How can I do it in a way that doesn’t lead to fear, resentment, or blame?

4. Can I imagine myself embracing the person with whom I am in conflict? With my arms around them? How does it feel? How can I hold onto the hope in that feeling?

5. Am I okay with opening my arms again? Letting them go? Giving them space to come and go as they please? What am I afraid of? How can love cast out that fear?

If you can answer all these questions affirmatively, it’s time. It’s time to open those arms, take that first step into conflict.

Our Final Where Peace Begins Video

In our eighth and final video of Where Peace Begins, Patrick Mason shares what he's learned about creativity and peace from survivors of the Rwanda genocide. It’s a powerful conclusion to our series on peacemaking.

There’s no question that it’s this passage in the Chapter 6: Assertive Love.

It’s called:

There is No Fear in Squirrels

I believe in the transformative power of squirrels. My faith in the furry, bushy-tailed nut gatherers happened over a summer in 1977 in the backyard of my little dilapidated pale-yellow ranch-style house on 9900 East Gregory in Raytown, Missouri.

That year, I spent my summer playing baseball in my backyard with my pitchback, attending Kansas City Royals games, and scraping together enough money through odd jobs to buy another ticket to see Star Wars at the Glenwood Theater.

I was a lonely kid living an imaginary life. My father, whom I worshipped, had been diagnosed with a debilitating disease and had left without a word, handing me his silver Timex watch as he tearfully walked out the door. My mother, a doting, nurturing soul, had to go to work to scrape together a living. My brother was never home. My friends abandoned me after a nasty bout with chicken pox left my face pocked with scars that resembled craters on the moon.

So, I created my world and friends. I made an imaginary band called the Space Cats. I invented invisible basketball players to play with me on our black tarred driveway, a ghostly BMX gang to roam the streets of Raytown with me, and a group of Jedi from a galaxy far, far away who taught me the Force. The only tangible living things I interacted with daily were the trees, the grass, an overgrown garden that took up half of our backyard, and a family of squirrels fond of a big walnut tree near a rusty fence at the back of our property.

On my tenth viewing of Star Wars that summer, an idea popped into my head that would change the course of my life.

“If the Force,” I pondered, “connected all living things, I wonder if it could invite other living things to connect with me?”

I was disconnected from the world and felt so alone. I did not understand why my family and friends had left me. What had I done to cause them to go? I felt like the people in my life had choices, and they had chosen someone or something other than me every time.

The Force offered me hope. I saw Obi-Wan Kenobi use his power to get R2-D2 and C-3PO past a garrison of Storm Troopers. Maybe those same powers could get me a friend. I spent the next week concentrating closely on the Force. I waved my blow-up, plastic, flashlight replica lightsaber. I lay quietly under the stars at night, searching for any trace of intelligent life or, if lucky, an X-wing fighter streaking across the sky. I prayed to God, who must have had something to do with the Force, to make me a Jedi. One week later, I was ready to use more Force skills to get what I wanted.

“Chaddy, eat your eggs,” my mother implored me the following day.

“You want to give me Pop-Tarts,” I said, waving my hand like old Ben Kenobi.

“I’m not feeding you Pop-Tarts. You know what sugar does to you,” my mother retorted in a strained voice.

“But you waaaaannnnnnt to give me Pop Tarts,” I said more mysteriously this time.

I spent the morning choking down eggs. Maybe younger people would be more susceptible to the powers of the Force.

“You want to pick me first for your kickball team,” I said, waving my hand toward the kid at recess who was always made kickball team captain. I was picked last.

“You want to go with me to the creek and fish for crawdads?” I said to my neighbor Gary Morris, raising my eyebrow for special effect.

I sat alone all day on the creek shore, not a crawdad all day.

“You want to invite me to your birthday party,” I said with a perfect Alec Guinness accent to Kathy Henderson, the perfect girl next door. Two days later, I stared out the window of McDonald’s as everyone in my neighborhood—minus me, old “Crater Face”—ate Ronald McDonald cake and played with prizes from their Happy Meals.

The Force was a crock. Of all the pain that I’ve felt in my life, nothing quite compared to the realization that there was no Jedi cure for the predicament I was in. I was a poor, skinny, floppy-haired, chicken-pocked kid. Imagine Luke Skywalker trapped on Tatooine, spending the rest of his days drinking blue milk and memorizing the binary language of moisture evaporators. That’s the life I faced in my unpopular, unloved, and disconnected state.

I quit watching Star Wars and spent the summer days in my backyard with my pitchback. It was the only thing that would play baseball with me, and I’d spend hours hurling fastballs at it. Religiously, it would return them over and over. Until one day, several rusted springs broke, and my pitchback was no more.

The following day, I sat in my backyard and watched the squirrels steal vegetables from the garden. Farmers hate squirrels, and I probably should’ve too. Our family needed that food from the garden now that my mom was a single mom. But I couldn’t help falling in love with them. They leaped from limb to limb, scaled trees like Spiderman, flew through the air like trapeze artists, sat up on their hind legs to nibble at the food in our garden, and did all of it right in front of your face.

There was no fear in squirrels. What I needed was more squirrel in my life.

“A Jedi lets the Force flow within him,” Obi-Wan Kenobi whispered in my ear that afternoon. Use the Force, Chad. Let go.”

And my mission in life—or for at least that summer—became apparent. I would use the Force (along with some helpful, edible bribes) to convince a squirrel to be my friend. I would let go of my fear, my self-doubt, and my anxiety. I would connect with one living thing that summer. I would become one with a squirrel.

As ridiculous as the whole endeavor appears now, it was serious business for me. I fasted and prayed, I meditated and researched both at the local library from the trusty Encyclopedia Britannica and at the Glenwood Theater, taking in Star Wars a few more times (“It’s reeeeesearch, Mom!!!!”)

I decided to condition the squirrels to the idea that I was a natural part of their environment. I observed their habits, including their propensity for walnuts and corn on the cob and their traffic patterns. Then, a week into the mission, I made my move. I found a comfortable place to sit under the walnut tree, where the squirrels loved to race up and down all day. I took a piece of corn and carefully sat it around five feet from me. The plan worked brilliantly.

About an hour into the first day, a curious, chubby squirrel kept edging closer until it reached the corn. Unlike other animals that would take it and run, this squirrel happily chowed down on it that day five feet in front of the happiest kid in Raytown. From time to time, the squirrel would look up at me. I would smile. I would stare into its eyes. And I would say, with an understated hand gesture, “You want to come sit on my lap.”

Every day, the same ritual occurred. I moved the corn slightly closer to my spot under the tree each day. Each day, the same squirrel came toward me to eat the corn. Every day, I issued the invitation using all the powers of the Force a seven-year-old could muster. Five feet became four feet. Four feet became three. Three feet became two, and then two feet became one.

I was obsessed. My squirrel project was all I could talk about at dinner. My brother rolled his eyes. My mother looked and sounded worried. I could hear her whispering into the phone at night, asking her friends whether this was normal. It wasn’t. I wasn’t. I didn’t want to be. I was now spending an hour or two every day one foot away from a freaking squirrel.

The next step in the plan was to move the corn onto my lap. From there, I felt confident I could pet the squirrel. What could go wrong?

The following day, I picked the perfect ear of corn, sat under the walnut tree, and placed the corn in my lap. And I waited. And I waited. And I waited. No squirrel. I saw them frolicking together in the garden. I could hear them leaping from branch to branch above my head. But for the first time in weeks, the squirrel did not come.

I waited from sunrise until sunset before I walked dejectedly back inside, head hanging low. I cried myself to sleep that night. Perhaps even squirrels had no interest in genuinely connecting with me.

Over the next week, I followed the same routine. If I left the corn a foot away, the squirrel came. He didn’t show up to investigate if I put the corn on my lap. I pleaded and waved my hand in perfect Jedi form. I prayed, “If You can command the wind and the waves, surely You can command the squirrels.”

It took me a long time to understand that God was not interested in commanding us. Inviting us? Absolutely. But forcing us, even squirrels? Not so much. After nearly a month of attempting to lure the squirrel into my lap, I felt abandoned once again. I was ready to give up.

The following Saturday morning I woke up early to watch one of my favorite shows not named Scooby Doo. It was a show about the life of Jesus, made for kids, that aired at six o’clock every Saturday morning. My family’s involvement in church was hit and miss, but I had a unique fondness for this Jesus guy. Before adults told me he hated certain types of people and was sending loved ones to hell, all I saw was this one singular perfect person who had a gravitational pull on my heart.

The TV lesson that week was on love, particularly the love of Jesus. It explained how perfect love casts out fear and showed how Jesus used that power to heal the sick, cast out demons, raise Lazarus from the dead, and save the world.

I realized that Jesus’s love was the force behind the Force. I had been going through the motions, but my Force had no power. Jesus used persuasion, long-suffering, gentleness, meekness, and kindness. I was waving my hand and bribing squirrels with corn.

That morning, I walked confidently into my backyard, corn on the cob in hand. I sat under the walnut tree, put the corn in my lap, and said out loud to the squirrel, wherever he was: “I need a friend. Would you come into my lap? I’ve watched you all summer. You are happy, free, and brave. I love you and want you to teach me how to live this way. Please come.”

I sat still for several hours before the squirrel finally appeared. He moved slowly toward me, his eyes moving back and forth from me to the corn. Finally, he put his tiny little paws on my legs, reached in, and began nibbling the corn. I radiated with joy. I suspect if someone had walked by in the moment, they would’ve thought the Buddha was sitting under the tree—glowing—reaching true nirvana.

For the next week, the squirrel came every day and ate corn from my lap. On the fifth day, my hand rested gently on his back, and I began to pet him. For the first time in my life, I was one with another living thing.

That was the day I started living again. My heart started thumping. I was restored to something I had always been. Indeed, “The great discovery is always that what we are searching for has already been given.”^[i]

I spent the last week of summer vacation in communion with a squirrel. I had finally found love. It was the happiest week. No, it was the happiest summer of my life. I also knew it would end soon. Somehow, instinctively, I knew every embrace must end with me opening my arms and letting go. I knew I’d return to being teased on the bus, picked last for the kickball team, and sitting alone on the playground. So, I cherished every breath that I took. Every beat of my heart mattered that much more. I knew this special thing was going to end soon enough. On the last day of summer, I cried as I petted the squirrel.

I spent my recesses inside that year, drawing picture after picture of a squirrel. On the back of one, I scribbled “My best friend.”

When PJ Rodgers, the class bully, saw it, “Crater Face” became “Squirrel Boy.” The name stuck through most of my high school years.

Winter came, and the squirrels left to eat their stash of walnuts that they had stored. I was alone again, but the memory of what had happened that summer burned within me. Over time, the humiliation on the school buses and at kickball games would fade. My mother remarried, and we moved away from 9900 E. Gregory. While my connection with squirrels would never fade, sadly, like every other living being, I would keep getting hurt by people. The connection I yearned for often went unfulfilled. In those moments, too plentiful to count, I would go to that walnut tree in my mind’s eye and sit, my heart out there, inviting others to come. Humans are a lot harder to summon than squirrels.

Within a few years, I realized I didn’t have it so bad. Luke Skywalker’s father was Darth Vader. Han Solo gets betrayed and frozen in carbonite by his best buddy, Lando Calrissian. The Empire Strikes Back ended darkly. I got that.

As I began studying conflict, I realized that my world and the Star Wars world weren’t the world. The world was so much bigger than me. There was so much suffering everywhere. Things were hard, but they were so much harder for much of the world. Racism, sexism, abuse, poverty, addiction, poor health, and broken relationships are everywhere. Every time I stepped into a room, I could feel the pain. So much pain comes from our inability to transform conflict—both the pain that is received and the pain that we give others.

Genuinely caring and connecting with another living creature made me invincible for a summer. It made me impervious to selfishness, imbued with a sense of mission, patience, and long-suffering, and embedded with a faith in the ability of living things to connect, to truly tether together.

I was a Jedi at one with the Force. I understood the secret of its power. There is no fear in squirrels. And there is no fear in love.

Where Peace Begins

Another Where Peace Begins video dropped this week and it’s one of my favorites.

In The Breath of God, Imam Rashied Omar reflects on his experience as a young activist and spiritual leader, showing how interfaith solidarity and deep faith can transform even the most unjust of societies.

“Justice, from a religious perspective, is affirming the full dignity of the other. To know that every human being has within him or herself the breath of God. If I offend you, I am offending the breath of God.”

It’s a moving account that show’s how a lifelong commitment to faith prepared him for spiritual leadership during turbulent political times.

Dangerous Love in Park City

On Sunday I’ll be in Park City to discuss how understanding conflict styles helped him to resolve large group ethnic and religious conflict around the world. His talk will be followed by a Q&A with the audience.

June 1 at 6pm at Eccles Center, Park City

Get tickets here

The Wayfare Festival w/ Adam Miller

I’ll be joining Wayfare for theirr second annual summer festival. This year’s gathering features Adam Miller, Terryl Givens, Kathryn Knight Sonntag, Esther Candari, James Goldberg and many more.

The title of the panel I’m on with Adam Miller and Kathryn Knight Sonntag is:

CULTIVATING LATTER-DAY CONTEMPLATION

What would a contemplative practice native to the LDS tradition look like? Why is contemplation an important part of Christian discipleship?

Come and be uplifted by inspiring ideas, insightful conversation, contemplative experiences, beautiful music, and delicious food.

The festival will take place amid the sublime splendor of Midway, Utah and there will be ample opportunities to experience the peace and restoration of creation.

WHEN: SATURDAY, JULY 12TH, 2025 (9AM-5PM)

WHERE: THE HOMESTEAD, MIDWAY, UTAH

TICKET PRICE: $95 (INCLUDES LUNCH AND DINNER)

There’s only 150 seats available, so don’t delay getting your ticket if you’d like to join!

GET YOUR TICKET