When Stories Outgrow What They Are Intended to Teach

A friend of mine said the following a while ago, and I thought it was profound.  The discussion was about the benefits of taking some things literally and other things figuratively, mythologically or symbolically.  I bolded a few things I want to highlight. 

When it comes to religion I've found that the answer to the great question of life, the universe and everything (other than 42) is . . . hymns. I hope you're still with me, I was serious. That's my answer for a lot of the questions I've had (in my life).

So why hymns?

Setting scriptures or gospel principles to music helps us remember the principles better. It's a mnemonic. For instance, I have several hymns memorized but I have a real hard time committing those scripture mastery scriptures to memory.

I think that was the point of all the stories in the scriptures - being vehicles to help us remember the principles they relate. The problem is that the stories grew a life of their own - so much so that the principles the stories teach are completely overlooked or overshadowed.

Noah's Ark for instance. It can be a story about following God . . . or about seeing a job through to completion, planning ahead, providing temporal needs for your family, and doing the right thing despite peer pressure . . . or we can search a mountain range for remains of a boat and try to arrive at the true size of a cubit to see whether there was enough room for the dinosaurs.

Adam and Eve is another one that's trending these days. My facebook feed is filled with creationists attacking evolutionists and vice-versa. In some ways, the story has outgrown the teachings, even to the point of contention.

Faith and Uncertainty vs. Doubt and Certainty

I will never "teach doubt" - but I teach the need to accept uncertainty and limited knowledge, and the subsequent need for inquiry and searching, all the time. Teaching doubt simply means teaching people to close their minds and avoid exploration and wait for others to do their searching and deciding and, as a result, allow someone else to do their acting for them.  Ironically, teaching doubt, in the end, is exactly like teaching certainty - and that ought to be contemplated in theological terms much more than it tends to be. 

I know it's not the exact same thing, but I've seen cynicism destroy people's lives - and it is ugly. I prefer to teach things related to doubt in a positive, solution-oriented way - so my approach is to acknowledge the universal nature of doubt / uncertainty / ambiguity / non-understanding / whatever and "teach" positive approaches to deal with and gain from it. In other words, I teach about the unavoidable existence of uncertainty (which sometimes is called "doubt") and its ability to encourage growth, but I actively teach constructive, productive ways to negate its potentially harmful effects.

Especially in matters of religion, that allows me to teach in a way that doesn't dismiss statements like, "Doubt not; fear not" - or anything else that casts doubt in a negative light. I can say, "Yes, doubt (a foundational attitude of disbelief) can keep someone from the benefits of faith (a foundational attitude of belief)." Even the scientific model is based on a willingness to believe that research of the unknown can produce new knowledge - and, at the heart, that is a vital, non-religious application of the core concept of faith.

Also, it's easier, always, to teach an extreme - on either end. It doesn't take much effort at all to do that. Thus, the extremes - on both ends - get taught more often than a more comprehensive understanding of the "perfect" (complete, whole, fully developed) concept and principle.

Anyone can "teach doubt" or "teach faith" in isolation. Not everyone can teach how they are inter-related - meaning not everyone can teach "eternal progression" and how both uncertainty and faith are integral to it. The ideal isn't to teach one of the extremes; the ideal is to teach the perfect concept. 

Feeding Individuals and a Community Isn't Easy

My family has a history of physical issues that make it hard for us to eat meat without choking - unless we are very careful to chew it extremely well before swallowing. I haven't had that exact issue, but one of my little brothers almost died of choking on a relatively small piece of meat, and I have an aunt who choked to death at the dinner table. Thus, discussions of teaching meat vs. milk at church mean something different to me than to many members. 

I share that only to emphasize that every person has unique dietary needs and issues of some sort - some that are critical to health and continued life and some that deal only with taste and preference. For that reason, I am wary of describing anything as universally "milk" or "meat" - or insisting that "The Church" teach or not teach something specifically because it constitutes milk or meat to me or to someone else.

I believe strongly that we should be engaged in "meatier" conversations and classes as adults of God, but I also realize that there are many physical adults who still are children of God spiritually - and that, to some degree, that is true of all of us. Thus, I throw out really small portions of "meat" in most group settings carefully to see if it is digestible before putting a larger chunk on the communal platter - and I often "chew on" the meat I put out there by taking a moment to frame it honestly but carefully as something a friend once said - or something I've thought about over the years - or something an apostle once said - or some other phrasing that makes it less likely to cause someone to choke.

Finally, I stopped expecting or requiring "The Church" to feed me a long time ago and shouldered that responsibility myself. Seriously, I wasn't getting "fed" at church with what I needed for my own growth before I left Primary - so I've been feeding myself for a long, long time. I still get a really good meal quite frequently at church, in one form or another, but it usually is dessert to me - not the main course.

We Shouldn't Pound a Principle So Hard We End Up Burying and Distorting It

I was talking with a friend a while ago about the concept of teaching correct principles and letting people govern themselves, and she shared a very instructive, poignant story with me.  I want to pass it on here and add my own commentary at the end.

My friend explained to me that when her daughter attended Young Women meetings and activities, it seemed like the central lesson always was related somehow to marriage (dating [with specific reference to preparing for marriage], chastity [with specific reference to being clean for marriage], virtue [with specific and exclusive reference to remaining pure for marriage], modesty [with specific reference to attracting a worthy mate], traditional homemaking skills [with specific reference to life after marriage], etc.)  My friend told me two things that really resonated with me about how this affected her daughter:

1) It made each of the things listed above appear to be about marriage, exclusively.  Each of them has a much more broad, important, even critical role than just in relation to marriage, but all of the other aspects of each of them were hidden (literally "buried") under the avalanche of marriage-related rhetoric.  That distorted everything taught in the lessons in a real and practical way for her daughter.

2) Her daughter understood how important marriage is, but, because of the unrelenting application of everything exclusively to marriage that daughter finally stopped attending Young Women classes and activities completely.  Why?  She was 15-years-old and had no desire to "stress about marriage all the time".  She wanted to focus on other things, get a good education, learn a marketable skill, etc. - all the things that would be important whether or not she got married.  She wanted to be taught like an important, full individual in and of herself - not just as a potential wife of someone else.

My commentary: 

There is a HUGE difference between "teaching and emphasizing" (even something that needs to be taught and emphasized) and "driving a tent stake so far into the ground that it's impossible to see the stake being driven and being left only with an image of a sledgehammer hitting the ground".  For example, how do you think it feels to a single mother (divorced, widowed from a non-member spouse, never married, etc.) or a single adult in the Church to hear every single week - even in our "worship meeting" - that the ideal is a married couple, sealed in the temple?  In that light, and please picture this image as you read, when you keep driving a tent stake into the ground further than it needs to be driven in order to secure the stake, it actually ends up restricting the tent and "shrinking" and "distorting" the tent in a real, practical way. Stakes have to be driven into the ground to secure the tent, but they don't have to be driven two feet or five miles under the ground.

We do a lot of driving already buried stakes so far into the ground that the stake itself gets buried and lost - and ignoring other tent stakes that ought to be driven in the ground, as well, to make the tent more secure. That can result in a lop-sided, distorted tent - one in which many faithful members can't find comfort and rest.

Teaching the Law of Chastity: We Simply Must Be More Open about How Great Sex Can Be

I love teaching the Law of Chastity in adult classes in the Church - but I'm weird that way. I teach it very, very differently than most people, and I like to see people's reactions.

We had a lesson about the Law of Chastity in High Priests Group a couple of years ago (yeah, with men who generally are grandfathers), and the teacher (whom I love) started the lesson with a joke he heard personally at a conference in Utah for LDS marriage counselors. Vaughn J. Featherstone was the one who told it, so I'm just passing on the words of a General Authority (*grin*):

A man walked up to his wife with his hands cupped in front of him and said, "If you can guess what's in my hands, we'll have sex." She smiled and responded, "an elephant." He opened his hands, revealing nothing there, and said, "Close enough!!"

The teacher then talked about "the elephant in the room" with regard to the Law of Chastity - that almost everyone wants sex, and that it's a WONDERFUL thing. When we focus only on the "bad" use, we end up re-enforcing the idea that sex itself is vulgar or "dirty" or shameful in some way - which feeds right into many pornographic presentations and other harmful depictions.

When homosexuality was discussed, one of the men in the group immediately said, "We have to be VERY careful we don't end up judging people when we talk about this." I mentioned how glad I am that the Church has moved away from the mistaken idea that homosexual attraction is "unnatural" - that we are beginning to realize how complicated human sexuality is and write policy accordingly.

It was a great lesson.

We talked about the Law of Chastity in a High Council training later that week, largely because one of the Stake Presidency members attended the High Priests Group class and was impressed by the lesson. Near the end, when we talked about how to teach the Law of Chastity to our children, youth and young adults, I mentioned that we simply MUST start by making sure they know sex is great (generally) and that we like it. I mentioned that all of my children know my wife and I have sex and that we enjoy it greatly - and it is from that foundation that we teach about it and why we believe in limiting it to marriage. Some of the people there were a bit shocked, I think, that I was so open about it, but not one of them objected in any way - and I was the youngest person there.

What Advice Would You Give to a Parent Whose Adult Child Is Struggling with Faith?

A friend of mine once asked me for some simple advice on how to deal with an adult child who was struggling with some aspects of the LDS Church.  I am removing the overall discussion details and providing here just the bullet-points I gave her:

1) Love him (actively, in word and deed).

2) Love him (emotionally) for who he is - not just for whom you want him to be.

3) Believe in a more powerful atonement than most members can understand.

4) Don't preach. Bear testimony, when appropriate, but don't preach.  He's heard it enough; he has to figure out now what he believes as an independent adult.

5) Support him as an agent unto himself.

Also, fwiw, "when they are old" might be much longer than most people assume. If we are eternal in nature, time as we measure it truly is irrelevant. 
 
I would love to hear more advice from anyone who reads this post - and remember, this is an adult child.

On Teaching Children to Question without Losing Faith

For me and my kids, the most important thing isn't the questioning; it's the attitude behind the questioning. I question to learn, and I try to teach my children to question to learn.

I draw a distinction between "doubt" and "uncertainty" specifically because I want my children to embrace the idea that it's ok to be uncertain - but I don't want them to have a "doubting spirit". In other words, I want them to be open to changes in their understanding - of everything - as they learn more, but I don't want their primary orientation to be one of disbelief. I want them to be willing to explore anything and come to believe whatever makes sense to them - but that is different than not being willing to explore some things because their primary orientation is negative and unbelieving.

I'm not sure if that makes sense, but I think the biggest dis-service parents do for their kids in this regard (based on my years of observing parents who preach questioning and "debate" to their kids) is that they do so in a way that encourages their kids to disbelieve - rather than encouraging them to believe.

I try to teach my children to question with the intent of discovering what they can believe (what they can accept as "true" at that time), not with the intent of discovering what they can't believe. It's the focus that matters most - the "direction of the objective", if you will.

Let me use a specific example:

I know someone who was raised to question everything - but it was done in a spirit of debate in which arguing and trying to convince others was the focus. This friend became very good at debating things - seeing both sides of something and making a particular argument well enough to win. He became a lawyer and was very successful - but, in the meantime, he lost his ability to really believe anything in particular. Whichever position could be argued most effectively was the position that was "right" or "true" for him. Hence, he ended up with an orientation geared toward justification, which led to all kinds of destructive beahvior, divorce and other complications in his current life. Right now, he can't shut down his "justification orientation" - and he does whatever he wants to do, since, subconsciously at best or automatically at worst, he can justify whatever he chooses to do in some way. He also can argue about it until anyone who questions him gives up and walks away, further re-inforcing in his own mind that he hasn't done anything wrong.

His problem, as I see it, isn't that he started out with a disbelieving, justifying orientation (although that might be correct); rather, it's that he was tuaght that orientation and it was re-inforced throughout his childhood in the name of objectivity and rationality and open-mindedness. It wasn't a questioning orientation; it was something much more hard to quantify and name - perhaps a "win-at-all-costs" or "pride" or "purely intellectual" orientation.

It's a fine distinction, I know - but it's a very important distinction to me.

Teaching Children to Build a Faith that Will Last: Disagreeing with Something Said at Church

I teach my kids what I believe - and that it's what I, personally, believe - and that others believe some of those things differently than I do - and that it's ok. I teach them that they can believe what makes sense to them - and that it's their responsibility to figure out what makes sense to them so they can be agents unto themselves.

My kids know when I don't agree with something that was said at church - because I mention it and we talk about why I don't agree. I don't go into great detail quite often, but when things are said that I see differently . . .they know about it.

However, they also know how much I like and love and sustain whoever said it. That is a critical aspect of any discussion I have with them, since I also want them to know that I will like and love and sustain and respect THEM when I learn about ways that their beliefs end up differing a bit from mine.  

I hope and pray my children love the Restored Gospel as much as I do, and I hope all of die as active members of the LDS Church - but I also hope and pray they do so because of a deep, personal understanding of the Gospel and the Church that will sustain them when I am gone.  Part of that, I believe, is learning to disagree but still love and sustain those with whom they disagree.

Why I Don't Mind Correlation in the Church

Some people complain about the Church's correlation effort - that the lessons and manuals are too restrictive and bland.  My response is very simple:

I have had some absolutely wonderful classes even with the correlated material.

If a lesson is read word-for-word or limited to "yes/no" responses, it's hellish; if it's used as a jumping off point for serious discussion, it's totally fine and can be incredibly enlightening and edifying. I've experienced both, so I know it's not all the fault of correlation.

Also, there were some really wacky things being preached and taught in the Church prior to correlation - when instruction basically was set at the local level. Correlation was the attempt to stop most of that wackiness and focus on the principles of the Gospel.

Serious question for contemplation:

Would you prefer the current material be used to focus on discussion of the concepts and principles in the manuals - or would you prefer having the local leaders in your wards or branches deciding what gets taught each Sunday in all classes?

If you tend to complain about correlation, consider the alternative - and how much the "craziness" of the past might bother you. (and, if you tend to downplay that craziness - or haven't experienced it like I have, think of the person in your ward, branch or stake whose views seem a bit "off" to you - and picture them controlling the instruction) 
 
I will take correlation and the possibility of focused discussions about the core principles of the Gospel, every day and twice on Sunday - and that is true especially now with the new youth curriculum and "revelations in context" online materials. 

Preparing Our Kids for the Hard Stuff

I believe the best spiritual inoculation method for children simply is creating an open environment where they feel comfortable asking anything - and teaching them what you consider to be correct principles - and being willing to entertain unique perspectives from them.

When your children ask a question, do you give them an answer - or do you ask them what they think? When they tell you what they think, do you "correct" them or merely validate their still immature understanding - or do you try to build on their understanding and help them see multiple perspectives? Do you encourage them to think for themselves - or merely to memorize your or others' answers?

When you read the scriptures with them, do you just read as much as you can cover - or do you discuss every verse and/or passage to make sure they have a chance to understand what it says (and, in some cases, differing opinions on what it says)?

I could go on, but the key is pretty simple. I just wish, sometimes, it was easy.

The Difference Between Seminary and Sunday School

I was one of those precocious kids who didn't hear anything new in Sunday School for years. That was OK, since I knew there were other kids in my classes who had no (or little) instruction at home and desperately needed the milk. I supplemented my own learning at home with Sunday School, not the other way around. (Thank you, Mom and Dad, for helping me look at it that way - and to Church leaders who have said that is the ideal for decades.)

An analogy that I believe works for all kids:

Tall trees get knocked down by strong winds if the roots branch out instead of down. 

My fear with how teaching occurs in church classes is that not enough water will be used in classes that should provide "deep" instruction and/or too much water will be used in classes that should provide basic instruction. I view Seminary as the place for the meat and Sunday School as the place for the milk (relatively speaking). (If all kids who attend Sunday School can handle meat, I say go for it and teach more deeply. Just be sure none of them are choking. Otherwise, provide them with greatly enhanced milk.) My primary concern is that so few kids in many places are attending Seminary - and that Seminary sometimes isn't digging deeply enough and teaching students to digest meat.

A Rare Sunday Post: Finding My Own "I am" Amid the Struggles of Life

I wrote something yesterday to a friend who is struggling with some things - especially the paradox between wanting to be fed at church and the desire to help feed others when he isn't feeling fed himself.

I normally don't write Sunday posts, but the thought came to me that I should post what I wrote to my friend - and that I should do so today. I hope that was a legitimate prompting - that it helps someone, somehow who might not have read it if I had posted it on a different day.

Here it is, edited slightly to be appropriate for a public forum:
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I think you are struggling with one of the central paradoxes of the Gospel that Jesus of Nazareth preached - that to find one's self, what someone thinks of as "self" has to be lost first.

Most people never understand that paradox fully in this life, and I am one of those most people when it comes to understanding it "fully" - but I've been unable to "find my own true self" by attending Church for so long that I gave up trying a long, long time ago. Instead, I focused in church on helping others find themselves.

Yes, my personality lends itself to that, but my experiences also helped me understand a little better how wonderful it can be to lose myself within a group. 

I want to share a story here that might or might not help, but it came to me as I read your message, so I hope it is inspiration.

Long story short, I had finished most of 11th Grade math by the time I left 7th Grade, but my rural junior and senior high schools had no idea what to do with someone in that situation - so I repeated 3 1/2 years of math until my class reached in 11th Grade where I had been individually in 7th Grade. One of the reasons I came to accept and appreciate that situation is that in 8th Grade I had a math teacher who couldn't teach. He knew the math, but he just wasn't a good teacher.

I had two choices: pout or teach. 

I chose to teach - and I found my life's love of teaching. I did about four weeks' worth of homework in one night, then, when the teacher finished introducing the material to the class and went back to his office, I got up, actually taught the concept in a way that the other students could understand and walked around the class helping individuals with the problems that were stumping them. I was, in practical terms, the teacher of that class. I literally, in a very real and powerful way, came to understand the joy and wonder that can occur when we put aside what we want individually (what we deserve and what "should" happen) and focus on helping others who aren't where we are get to where we are - or to where we are going. 

I understand individual personalities and that it was easier for me "naturally" to have that outcome than it would have been for others - but . . . 

Looking back on that year, I wouldn't trade it for the world. I learned something important about myself and what I perceive to be an important principle - and what I want to focus on for the purpose of this conversation is that I learned it through an experience that absolutely sucked in every objective way imaginable (for lack of a more genteel way to say it). It shouldn't have happened; the educators in those schools should have been more aware of me and my needs and done SOMETHING to help me; they had a professional commission and duty to do so; they shouldn't have "kicked me off of" the educational track I was on when I arrived; they failed miserably in fulfilling that commission. 

I'm so glad they did. In fact, I think I'll be grateful eternally that they did. 

I'm not saying that such an experience is right for everyone, and I'm not saying it's OK for people to screw up big time in the performance of their responsibilities, and I'm not saying anyone else should (or could) have had my own experience in that situation - but I am saying there is a power in many Gospel paradoxes that is impossible to grasp until we're involved in a searing, unfair, difficult struggle that forces us to weigh competing ideals and discover there often is a balance hidden somewhere in the struggle - a balance that is personal and individual and intimate and enlightening in our own efforts to find our own "I am".

Church-Wide Vanilla; Individual Flavoring

“Is it the Church’s duty to create a list called “dirty laundry” and then say, “These are troubling issues that some people have, and here is our best take on them”?

No, not “The Church” at the top leadership level. Their duty is to preach Jesus resurrected and His Church restored. If people want academic treatments, they should turn to academicians to provide them; if they want scientific answers, they should turn to scientists to provide them; if they want historical perspective, they should turn to historians to provide it; if they want “witnessing” answers, they should turn to witnesses to provide them.

I don’t want “The Church” to reincarnate Bruce R. McConkie expressing personal opinion on non-Gospel topics as official doctrine. I want Kevin Barney and Ardis Parshall and Armand Mauss and Richard Bushman and Jan Shipps and Bill McKinnon and Henry Eyring and Hugh Nibley and others to “explain” Mormon history and science and scriptural exegesis and other topics. I want the apostles and prophets to preach and minister and administer.

I don’t want “The Church” to spoon-feed me everything I should eat, pureed to a consistency any baby could digest. I have no problem with generic presentations and statements for the general membership, but I want to figure out how to digest the full feast in its complex form - or to put aside some of the food temporarily and not even try to digest it. I don’t mind if others help me decide what to eat raw, what to boil, what to grill, what to puree and what to discard, but I don’t want “The Church” turning everything into a blended shake that someone thinks should go down smoothly and not cause any indigestion. I like the diverse flavors and consistencies of my food too much to want pablum.

The Importance of Learning and Speaking Other People's Spiritual-Religious Languages

After I left the classroom as a teacher, I took a job in educational publishing sales. I was used to talking with people of high academic achievement, and I liked to challenge my students, so I was inclined to speak the same way in my new sales position. After all, I was selling to educators, philanthropic executive directors and political leaders.

My first Regional Manager (a friend and fellow member) told me something that changed the way I interacted with my contacts - and influenced how I approached talks in church. He said:

Quit talking at a level that threatens your audience. Very few people like to have to concentrate to know what you are saying. Speak their language.

The same is true in church. If the congregation has to focus energy simply on understanding the words you are using, or if they don't understand those words, they will not have energy left to contemplate what you are saying - or to hear the Spirit whisper something directly to them. If you can't explain a concept to a 12-year-old, you probably don't understand it fully - and your talk will have no impact on those who hear the words but not the message.

There is a much broader application with the concept of speaking their language, as well. Often, when we interact with people of different religions or denominations, there is misunderstanding and rejection in instances where we are saying essentially or even exactly the same thing - simply because we are not speaking the same language. We often use the same words to mean different things - like "faith", "salvation", "grace", "works", etc. On the other hand, within these exact same conversations, we often use different words to mean the same things - and, due to the words we use which have different meanings "in their language", we end up assuming a difference of opinion and/or belief when none actually exists.

Even when speaking the same language, it is possible to speak different languages. It's important to take the time to learn other people's spiritual-religious languages and speak to them in those languages.

A Thought about Math Instruction and Teaching the Gospel

The VAST majority of elementary school teachers in our country are "language arts" people - NOT "mathematics" people. They are more social workers than accountants. Therefore, our schools face two specific problems in regard to math instruction:

1) Most of the teachers subconsciously don't like the topic, and underlying attitudes manifest themselves in the way teachers teach. Think about it: I'll bet most of your favorite teachers were passionate about the topic(s) they were teaching. If a teacher is ambivalent, the students pick up on it and more likely to be ambivalent.

In Church, we face a similar difficulty when teachers don't connect with a particular lesson. It generally is easy to feel when a teacher really believes something - and when they simply are teaching a lesson.

2) Most elementary school teachers don't "get" math intuitively, so they don't "know" math deeply. They can teach how to memorize facts, but they have a hard time explaining the foundation concepts. Therefore, they tend to focus either on rote memorization OR on letting the textbook be the default teacher. Neither is a good model.

In Church, if teachers don't understand a principle deeply it can be hard to explain it in a way that will spark understanding in the students. Feeling the Spirit is important (ultimately most important), but intellectual understanding also is important. It's hard to follow what you don't understand, but it's even harder to share those things with others.

An example, and I don't mean this to be condescending in any way: How many here can explain the concept behind the Pythagorian Theory - not the calculation used, but the reasoning behind the calculation - what the calculation means. How many here can draw a visual representation of it, so that visual learners can "get" it? It's really quite simple once you see what it meant originally, but it can be brutal if you simply have to try to remember which formula applies to which theory. If a teacher can help the students visualize it - if she can "bring it to life" for the students, those students can "get it" in a way that might never leave nor diminish.

That is just as true with regard to theology and religion as it is to math.

Teaching the Ideal

As a Primary, Sunday School and Seminary teacher in three different decades, I have taught literally hundreds of children and adolescents in the Church, and there is one constant for almost all of them. Almost without exception, they want to be taught an ideal that will help them be happy - either as happy as their own family example or happier than that example. That applies to BIC kids from traditional families just as much as kids from any other situation. Of course, we need to be sensitive, but we can't teach the ideal to some and a compromise to others - ironically, simply because those others haven't experienced the ideal.

This same issue applies just as much to YSA & SA members. How do you discuss the ideal family, when there is a significant percentage of adults in the congregation who are divorced, separated or never married (be they gay or straight)? How do you teach adults to honor parents who were abusive - especially if they were sexually abusive? How do you teach respect for Priesthood authority to adults whose fathers (active, inactive or non-member) exercised unrighteous dominion - or whose mothers were critical of all men? What about the women married to active men who don't feel loved and respected and valued - or are abused in some way themselves? How do you teach respect for modern prophets to a Black investigator who risked her life for equal civil rights and has a testimony of the Gospel and the Book of Mormon but has a hard time accepting pre-1978 church history?

You do it by being open and empathetic and aware and sensitive - and direct and frank and bold and unyielding - and, most importantly, in tune with the Spirit. You teach the ideal but recognize and acknowledge and don't trivialize the less than ideal. There is no collective magic bullet for all; there only is a caring heart and open mind and spirit for each individual. At least, that's my experience.

Not Everything is Manipulation

I see "manipulation" as when someone who is not convinced of something tries to convince someone else of it for some kind of gain (money, power, prestige, gratification, etc.) - or when someone lies or intentionally distorts in order to get someone to do something they would not do otherwise (which really is a different way to say the same thing). Manipulation is not about how someone else views the issue; it’s about my integrity or hypocrisy - about my motives.

I have been a teacher and am now in sales and marketing. I also have been at various levels of management for the past 20 years. In each of these positions, a central part of my job has been trying to convince people (students and co-workers) to do things they don’t necessarily feel driven to do - often to get them to change their behavior when they aren’t convinced that behavior is wrong. Of course, I try to convince them that what they are expected to do is better than what they have been doing, but sometimes I still must attempt to change their behavior even when they aren’t convinced yet. Sometimes, with some people, I actually compel that change with a threat of termination if they don’t accept the rules. That’s not always manipulation; often it’s simple leadership.

I also have been in a position where I was ordered to overlook records that were fabricated in an attempt to obtain a huge contract - and a different position where I was encouraged to use the classic bait-and-switch sales technique. (Sell one thing; provide another.) Those are prime examples of manipulation, since those who ordered the actions knew they were lying and/or distorting to get gain. (Fwiw, I refused in both instances.)

If I firmly believe something, and if I use no conscious deceit in trying to convince others, I am not manipulating them no matter what their views are. Therefore, I am free to use whatever language I feel would produce the outcome I desire. Personally, I prefer to be inspired to act rather than guilted to act, but if others respond to guilt then “guilting them” is fine. Our scriptures say that self-motivation produced by love is the highest prompt of action, but they also are clear that externally induced motivation (from fear or guilt) is acceptable, if necessary.

As with any group, Mormons are individuals and will respond to whatever motivates them personally. I hope most of us respond better to inspiration and love than to fear and guilt (correct principles with self-governance), but “effective” messaging would include all four.