At one point, the instructor had us turn to the second chapter of the Book of James, and we discussed verses 17–22:

Even so faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone. Yea, a man may say, Thou hast faith, and I have works: shew me thy faith without thy works, and I will shew thee my faith by my works. Thou believest that there is one God; thou doest well: the devils also believe, and tremble. But wilt thou know, O vain man, that faith without works is dead? Was not Abraham our father justified by works, when he had offered Isaac his son upon the altar? Seest thou how faith wrought with his works, and by works was faith made perfect?

We discussed the idea of faith and works briefly, and the commonly argued contrast between being saved by faith and being saved by works, but there wasn’t much debate, and everyone seems to now understand that it’s God’s grace that saves us, not our own works.

But it was the last part of verse 22 that caught my eye.

by works was faith made perfect

I’m not sure I’ve ever noticed this phrasing before; if I had, I must have forgotten it. But it made me think.

If faith can be made perfect, then it must start out as imperfect. And it is through our works that we can transform our imperfect faith into perfect faith; although, I imagine the process is a long-term one.

For quite a long time now, this chapter hasn’t represented for me an argument for salvation by works or an argument against salvation by faith. Rather, to me, it explains to us that if our faith doesn’t motivate us to works, then it’s a “dead” faith and we might as well not even have faith at all.

A living faith, however, inspires us to do—to follow Jesus’ example, to do what he did, to live his teachings, to actively love others.

A living faith is one that grows from imperfection to perfection, or more specifically, growth through imperfection (and its various stages and incarnations‚ towards perfection.

After all, if Jesus, the “Only Begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth, . . . received not of the fulness at first, but continued from grace to grace, until he received a fulness”, then surely our faith can also grow from grace to grace until it becomes full.

I’ve seen this usage before. For example, take this quote from the Gospel Principles manual:

Faith is a “hope for things which are not seen, which are true”.

“Chapter 18: Faith in Jesus Christ”, Gospel Principles, 2009, p. 101.

Or this quote from a member of the Seventy:

Hope is another important particle of faith. Alma told the humble Zoramites that faith was not a perfect knowledge of things. It was a “hope for things which are not seen, which are true”.

Ringwood, M. “Faith, Hope, and Relationships”, Ensign, Jan. 2013, p. 56.

Or this quote from a CES educators broadcast given by a member of the Twelve:

These teachings highlight three basic elements of faith: (1) faith as the assurance of things hoped for that are true, (2) faith as the evidence of things not seen, and (3) faith as the principle of action in all intelligent beings.

Bednar, D. “Seek Learning by Faith”, Liahona, Sep. 2007, p. 18.

Or the entry for “faith” in the Bible Dictionary:

Faith is to hope for things which are not seen, but which are true, and must be centered in Jesus Christ in order to produce salvation.

“Faith”, Bible Dictionary.

(Joseph B. Wirthlin quoted this entry in a 2002 General Conference talk.)

Or the entry for “faith” in the Guide to the Scriptures:

Faith includes a hope for things which are not seen, but which are true.

“Faith”, Guide to the Scriptures.

Or the entry for “hope” in the Index to the Triple Combination:

faith is to hope for things not seen which are true,

“Hope”, Index to the Triple Combination.

Or this article from The Friend:

Faith is hope for things that we cannot see but are true. We believe that Jesus Christ is our Savior, and we trust Him to help and guide us.

“Article of Faith 4”, The Friend, Apr. 2011, p. 22.

Or this article from The New Era; although, this is technically paraphrasing Ether 12:6 (not Alma 32:21), which doesn’t even include the phrase which is true, or even just the word true.

Faith is hope for things that are true but not seen.

“55 Truths in the Book of Mormon”, The New Era, Sep. 2017, p. 25.

Or this entry from a 2004 CES teacher resource manual for the Book of Mormon curriculum.

Faith is a “hope for things which are not seen, which are true”.

“Alma 30–35”, Book of Mormon Teacher Resource Manual, 2004, pp. 165–73.

And so on.

I bring this up because there are couple of issues with this usage.

First, it’s an incorrect reading of the text. This verse never says that faith is hoping for unseen but true things. Actually, it never defines faith at all. Let’s look at the actual text:

And now as I said concerning faith—faith is not to have a perfect knowledge of things; therefore if ye have faith ye hope for things which are not seen, which are true.

Alma 32:21, The Book of Mormon, p. 289.

See? If you look carefully, the verse doesn’t actually say that faith is hoping for things which are not seen but that are true.

What it does say, however, is that if we have faith, we hope for unseen but true things. In other words, faith is what motivates us to hope for unseen but true things.

Using this verse as seen in the sources above is problematic. Obviously, the verse doesn’t actually say what the people quoting/paraphrasing it say it does. However, there’s another reason why it’s problematice.

Which brings me to the second issue I have with this issue: it’s impossible for us to know that an unseen thing is true.

Speaking of knowing, let’s look at the first half of Alma 32:21, as quoted above: “faith is not to have a perfect knowledge of things”. Alma differentiates between faith and knowledge. In fact, he expands on that a bit earlier in some previous verses:

Yea, there are many who do say: If thou wilt show unto us a sign from heaven, then we shall know of a surety; then we shall believe. Now I ask, is this faith? Behold, I say unto you, Nay; for if a man knoweth a thing he hath no cause to believe, for he knoweth it.

Alma 32:17–18, The Book of Mormon, p. 289.

To Alma, knowledge and faith are separate. If you know something, you no longer have faith in it.

If I put my slippers on my feet, for example, I know they are on my feet. I can remember placing them on my feet, I feel them on my feet, and I can see them on my feet. I have no reason to have faith in something I can see.

And the ability to see (or not see, in this case) appears to be a critical component of faith.

Take this other scripture:

And now, I, Moroni, would speak somewhat concerning these things; I would show unto the world that faith is things which are hoped for and not seen; wherefore, dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith.

Ether 12:6, The Book of Mormon, p. 509.

Moroni realized that not being able to see something is critical to being able to having faith in it. There must be an unknown component involved in faith. Otherwise, as Alma said, it’s knowledge, not faith.

And surely, it works the other way: if we cannot see it, then it’s not knowledge.

If I have no memory of putting my slippers on my feet, if I can’t feel slippers on my feet, and if I can’t see slippers on my feet, then I have no knowledge that slippers are on my feet. I don’t know that there are slippers on my feet.

I can believe that there are slippers on my feet. I can be confident that there are slippers on my feet. I can hope that there are slippers on my feet. My belief, confidence, and hope can be unbelievably strong, even. But I will never know that there are slippers on my feet.

It’s likewise for spiritual matters.

There’s no way for us to know that God exists. Well, unless God appears before us, I suppose. Until that happens, God remains unseen, and as such, we can only hope that God exists—have faith.

Because until we see God, it’s never knowledge. And spiritual experiences don’t count as seeing.

Using spiritual experiences as proof of God’s existence assumes that God exists and was responsible for those experiences. But then we’re back to still lacking proof that God exists and was responsible for those spiritual experiences. That’s fallacious; specifically, it’s called circular reasoning.

“I know God exists because He sent me spiritual experiences.”

Whether those experiences were feelings, coincidences, or something else, none of them are actual proof that God exists, let alone was the source of those experiences.

Same goes for things like “I know the scriptures are true.” or “I know that I will see my loved ones again when I die.” There’s no evidence for these things, so one’s understanding of them can’t be based on knowledge: one can’t know them.

Which isn’t to say there isn’t value in assigning spiritual matters to God. My point here isn’t to say that God doesn’t exist. For just as we can’t know that God exists, we can’t know that God doesn’t exist. The same lack of evidence failing to prove God’s existence also fails to prove God’s nonexistence.

One can conclude that God doesn’t exist because of lack of evidence, but that conclusion is made without proof. Perhaps the person who concludes this does so because the lack of evidence is compelling enough to convince them.

I find the lack of evidence for the existence of Bigfoot, for example, compelling enough to not believe in Bigfoot. Others might take a similar approach for their conclusion regarding God’s existence.

On the other hand, one can conclude that God does exist despite the lack of evidence, but that conclusion is likewise made without proof. As noted earlier, perhaps that conclusion was reached because of experiences this person classified as spiritual, which then they assigned to God, even though there is no evidence that God exists nor that God was responsible for those experiences.

But, as I said, there still might be value to a person to believe that certain experiences came from God or hope that God exists.

Again, my point isn’t to prove that God doesn’t exist: that’s not something that can yet be proven.

My point is that we can’t say that we know God exists. This is currently an unknowable conclusion. And since we can’t know God, we can’t know whether God is true. That’s where the above framing of Alma 32:21 falls apart.

For if faith truly is hoping for things that are unseen but are true—as presented in the sources above—yet we can’t know that unseen things are true, then faith is impossible.

Just as saying God exists because your spiritual experiences came from God is a circular argument, so, too, is the claim that faith is hoping for things that are unseen but are true.

After all, how do you determine something is true before you have faith in it if you can never see it or otherwise verify its existence? You have to have faith in its truthfulness? Then how do you determine faith in that? How do you determine the truthfulness of the truthfulness of God’s existence (or the Book of Mormon, or the First Vision, or any other spiritual certainties)?

So, just to sum up, saying that faith is hoping for that which is unseen but true is not only a misreading of the text, it’s logically unsound and makes no sense.

Since the church’s policy change regarding same-sex marriages was leaked on Thursday, my Facebook feed has been like a firehose regarding reactions to the changes. I tried to read so many thoughts, article, and blog posts in an effort to help me figure things out.

It didn’t work that well.

Instead of direction and guidance, I received anxiety and depression. There were times on Friday and Saturday when trying to respond to claims or viewpoints that I found myself shaking and had to stop.

Even going to the temple Friday night didn’t help. In fact, my endowment session felt like a two-hour stupor of thought. I drove away from the temple as lost and depressed as ever—a far cry from the guidance and inspiration I had received the week before.

A lot of emotions have run through my heart and mind. I’ve been upset, confused, hopeless, lost, abandoned, hurt, sad, lonely, disgusted, sick, and so many more.

As a parent of an LGBT child, I’ve struggled to know what to do. My daughter left the church earlier this year, but the changes still hit me hard, and I’ve been seriously considering throwing in the towel.

Before this weekend, I never fully understood what people go through when they wrestle with the decision to leave the church. Something I’ve learned is that it’s a complex decision with no easy answer.

In fact, two years ago, President Dieter F. Uchtdorf addressed this very topic in general conference:

Sometimes we assume it is because they have been offended or lazy or sinful. Actually, it is not that simple. In fact, there is not just one reason that applies to the variety of situations.

Some of our dear members struggle for years with the question whether they should separate themselves from the Church.

I can say with frankness that the last paragraph describes me. As the church as grown more evangelical and my understanding of the actual Gospel has become more Christ-centred, this growing divide has become problematic for me.

But there are aspects of Mormonism I love and that I can find in few other places: an anthropomorphic God, a feminine divine, the masonic temple rites, seer stones, visiting angels, continuing revelation, and the list goes on. Scriptures like D&C 18:10, D&C 93, Mosiah 4, and 4 Nephi 1 resonate with me.

So I continued on, focusing on what is right.

But this policy change and how it could affect my future grandchildren feels like the proverbial last straw that broke the camel’s back.

And I find myself once again contemplating leaving. This time, however, it feels so intense. I find parallels even to the faith crisis story I shared 8 years ago.

But here it is three days later, and I haven’t found it any easier to decide what I’m going to do.

There are so many factors at play in me head. As I’ve commented several times, the church is like a cherry pie: it tastes so good, but it has pits.

Here are some of the things that make it taste so good to me:

• The symbolism in the church found in baptism, the endowment, the Sacrament, and various other places.
• The temple
• God being a resurrected, glorified man who is our father
• Having a mother in heaven
• The example and teachings of Jesus (arguably this could easily be found elsewhere)
• The unique teachings in Mormon scripture, specifically how we should treat others
• The brotherhood of a quorum
• Continuing revelation
• A personal relationship with God

I’m not going to list out all the pits, but I will say there are many, and some of them are big. Despite the common rhetoric found among its members, the Mormon church is not perfect.

So I find myself in the middle of various forces pulling me in these two directions: all the positive trying to keep me in and all the negative trying to push me out.

But there are some other things that are making it difficult to make a decision:

• I worry about not being able to baptize my three younger children
• I worry about not being able to be an escort when my two boys go through the temple
• I worry about Mary and the children following me
• I worry about leaving Mary to take the role of a single mother at church on Sundays
• I worry about never being able to go to the temple again, the one thing remaining that ties us to the esoteric church of 200 years ago
• I worry about not completing temple ordinances for my ancestors, something I have been working on for 25 years.
• I worry about others having to come to my home to give Mary and our children blessings
• I worry about being the last person in my family to go on a mission despite being the first
• I worry about what it would mean to my parents, who were my pioneers
• I worry about what it would mean to those I taught and baptized on my mission
• I worry about not being able to give my boys the Melchizedek Priesthood, something my dad was never able to do for me.
• Related to that, I worry about not being able to be ordained a high priest by my dad, the last chance I have to get my priesthood lineage from him
• I worry about satisfying those who already expect me to leave

So, for anyone wondering what I’m struggling with, it isn’t about trying to reconcile my beliefs with the new policy to rationalize it. I think it’s wrong. Period.

No, I’m struggling with so much more and with something far more complex.

And I don’t know how long it will take before I have my answer, nor what will happen when something like this happens again.

What I do know is that it’s not an easy decision for those who decided to leave the church, and we should be careful about judging them when they do.

I’m not going to discuss the morality or the logistics of these actions. I’m sure there will many others who will. What I am interested in is how this will affect the Bloggernacle.

Our Thoughts has been around for 11 years. It’s one of the oldest LDS-themed blogs, and about six months after it’s founding is when others started to pop up everywhere.

The Bloggernacle has served as a great vehicle for discussion difficult issues or questions without anyone fearing judgement or retribution. People felt comfortable expressing their doubts, and many found it cathartic and encouraging.

With Dehlin and Kelly facing excommunication, will it change the Bloggernacle. Will people stop asking difficult questions or sharing troubling doubts? Will people end up leaving the church because there’s nowhere to work through their challenges?

What do you think?

From the LDS Church News:

…[T]here is no conflict between the facts and truths of science and those given to us by direct revelation. Rather than conflicting, the facts and truths in each area complement each other, each supplying answers to basic questions which we must know, eventually, if we are to fulfill our destiny as sons and daughters and co-partners with our Father in His eternal plan.

Apparent conflicts arise when the theories of science — which serve as a scaffolding erected to try to understand relationships among observed facts — are mistaken for the experimentally verified facts.

I can think of many examples where not just theories but experimentally verified facts conflict with religion. One need only a cursory review of the scientific method to realize that religion and science clash at every turn. Despite the numerous quotations from Church leaders that true science and religion are bedfellows, I see them as diametrical opposites and wonder how they can exist together when one consistently conflicts with the other.

We come to know the truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ not simply by the exercise of intellect or the process of logic but by acting on what we learn. Through faith and obedience, the validity of gospel doctrine can be etched upon our hearts.

If our faith is rooted in the sandy soil of reason and logic, it will be swept away by a rising tide driven by the escalating winds of opposition. A faith founded in Jesus Christ and on the rock of revelation will endure through the fiercest storms of life (see Helaman 5:12).

Now, forgive me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the definition of reason and logic that it does not shift like sandy soil? Perhaps he meant, false reason and false logic—but that’s not what he said. What do you think?

Two things I don’t understand: why are people still staying away from church because of so-called hypocrisy, and why does someone allow the actions of others affect their own spiritual life?

People have been preaching for years that the people in the church are imperfect and are human. Despite all this preaching, people still expect members to be perfect and use their imperfections as excuses to stop coming to church.

Likewise, why would someone let the actions of another dictate whether they come to worship, partake of the sacrament, serve in the church, share their testimonies with others and so on?

When she was younger, her father had some sort of vision, which was significant enough to convert her to Christianity. Despite her new-found faith, however, she kept it hidden. I imagine it was because of the consequences she assumed would befall her once her people found out she was following the Nephite religion.

That must have been tough for her.

Late one night at Etech, Matt Webb asked a bunch of us what we would be most afraid to be wrong about. In other words, what are we most invested in and would have our realities shattered if we were wrong. This question blew me away and got me thinking.

Many of the comment threads here on “Our Thoughts” continually rehash the same ideas over and over and as far as I can tell a lot of the beliefs held here aren’t really based on anything more solid than feelings. (Don’t get me wrong, if that floats your boat then I wish you the happiest of sailing). However I wonder if having such a rigid viewpoint of the world might set some up for great disillusionment.

My real point is, though, considering which of your beliefs you are most invested in, how would you react to hypothetical but 100% concrete evidence that your beliefs were wrong. I would hope that everyone would say, “ok, while this may be life changing news, I suppose I have no choice but to change my beliefs. I think I can do it.” Would you change your beliefs if you had 100% correct scientific information that they were wrong?

What if the hypothetical evidence was 99.9% probable in its accuracy leaving only a .1% chance that your beliefs are correct, what would you do?