(From a talk given in the Chattahoochee Ward of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on November 23, 2025)

Good morning, Brothers and Sisters. My mind has been working on this talk for a very long time. I hope the effort I put into my remarks brings you some joy today, and I pray that the Spirit will lead us into profound gratitude for “the gift of faith.” I am going to share my experience.

My faith has evolved from construction, growing up in the church and raising my younger family here, to deconstruction as things unraveled following a divorce and a decision to choose cynicism, doubt, and departure, and finally into reconstruction following a spiritual experience I had five years ago, in the summer of 2020.

I held my rebaptism in this same room last June. People from every season and area of my life showed up. It was so sweet. I spoke then of some of the physical events that coincided with my spiritual wrestle, which led me to turn my life around.

Today, I will explain that spiritual wrestle through the lens of the “gift of faith,” and I will reconstruct it from scratch with you, explaining the realizations that led me to change my mind.

First, I realized that, at its core, faith is simply an initial trust that motivates you to act, gather experience, and discover whether that trust proves true. I saw in it an analogy with the scientific method, where faith is the initial trust that a hypothesis is worth testing through observation and measurement. In the Old Testament, the Hebrew word for faith, ’Ĕmûnāh, carries this sense of trust, loyalty, and faithfulness. So I thought to myself that there is this first layer of faith, which is simply the openness to methodically experiment with spiritual concepts, like the basic existence of something bigger than whatever puny understanding humans can derive through manmade systems. That willingness to restart my engine of spiritual investigation was the first big choice that enabled me to receive the gift of faith back in my life.

I’ll pause here to say I see two kinds of doubt: one is a blessing, the other a curse. The sort of doubt that is a blessing is the kind that makes us question things and investigate. It is a motivational force that eggs us on in our explorations. When we struggle to accept something, it prompts us to figure out what we are missing or to try something else.

But the second kind of doubt is the one that shuts down discovery altogether and tempts us to check out of spiritual investigation. This second sort often comes as a result of trauma, when events in life do not match expectations of how we think things should be. Or when we feel betrayed and harmed by our spiritual or religious experience. Or it can come in more subtle ways if we surround ourselves with doubters who mock and ridicule spiritual exploration as foolish or irrelevant to how they want to live their lives. In any case, this pernicious form halts the engine of spiritual investigation. I realized I did not want to spend more of my life with that engine turned off, and I had nothing to lose by turning it back on.

So then, I asked myself, “What do I turn my faith back on to?” In spiritual matters, faith can become a trust in any number of random spiritual conceptions. Of all conceptions to evaluate, the core truth that there is a Heavenly Father who hears and answers prayers was the one I desired most to explore. Any other concept of a God outside of that Parental framework made less sense to me. So I chose to place my faith in God again, not because I was convinced, but because I genuinely wanted to know.

I remembered that the Book of Mormon spoke of faith by “[comparing] the word unto a seed.” I went back to Alma 32, where it says in verse 28, “Now, if ye give place, that a seed may be planted in your heart, behold, if it be a true seed, or a good seed, if ye do not cast it out by your unbelief, that ye will resist the Spirit of the Lord, behold, it will begin to swell within your breasts; and when you feel these swelling motions, ye will begin to say within yourselves—It must needs be that this is a good seed, or that the word is good, for it beginneth to enlarge my soul; yea, it beginneth to enlighten my understanding, yea, it beginneth to be delicious to me.”

So to exercise faith in a doctrine, like the existence of a Heavenly Father, we plant it in our lives as though it were true, not out of blind obedience but out of curiosity to explore something we have yet to figure out fully. Then we look for fruit. In fact, we hope for fruit. This hope becomes the experiment. In that hope, my mind began to spin. For nearly 2 weeks, I could not sleep as my mind would not turn itself off, as I reconsidered what the existence of a Heavenly Father might mean to me in my life. If I were to believe again, how would I reconcile the life I had outside the church with the things I had been taught growing up?

I did not expect to believe most of it. But I stuck to the things that matter most. I remembered that He is Almighty, the Creator of all things, and fully proficient in the realm of low-probability events. I had to turn off the brain that makes decisions based on likelihoods and turn on the brain that finds hope in unseen things that might very well be true, even if the world says they are unlikely.

I put my faith to work in a Heavenly Father who is merciful, gracious, slow to anger, and abundant in goodness. I put my faith to work in a Heavenly Father who is no respecter of persons and sees all of His children as equal spirit sons and daughters, for whom He has a plan for their progression, which includes a probationary period here in this mortal life of ours.

As I started sinking those beliefs back into my mind, I began to be crushed by the realization of all the ways in which I had screwed up my probationary period. I could have cowered in fear and stopped there, but I was more interested in admitting my mistakes, which I knew were real, and coming to terms with my life. My thoughts turned to Heavenly Father’s greatest gift in sending Jesus Christ as our Exemplar and Savior. I realized that I truly love my Savior. If I could believe in a loving Heavenly Father, it followed for me that the gift of His Son and everything I understood about His plan of mercy could be true for me and for my family.

So, I decided to put my faith to work in the Father and the Son once again. I experimented with prayer. I had so much to ponder and pray about. What all would I need to change in my life to conform to those truths, to give the experiment of faith the most genuine inquiry of my life? Sincerely thinking through each of those details has been a work in progress for me ever since.

The earliest fruits that arrived were spiritual impressions or personal signals I received from the Holy Spirit. With the belief substrate of a loving Heavenly Father and Son, I found peace and joy returning to my life in ways I had forgotten. My ability to hear Him was back, and it was so sweet. It still is. These are not things I can show to others as evidence, but are personal rewards for having real intent in something good and true.

Later, as I have spent transformational time under these doctrines, I have been able to look back and ponder the effect on my life. Alma continues, in verse 32-33, “Therefore, if a seed groweth it is good, but if it groweth not, behold it is not good, therefore it is cast away. And now, behold, because ye have tried the experiment, and planted the seed, and it swelleth and sprouteth, and beginneth to grow, ye must needs know that the seed is good.”

So for over five years now, this basic process of spiritual investigation has become central to my life. Each evaluation of a point of doctrine, including those of the restored Church, has involved a hypothesis of faith, followed by an experiment in hope conforming my life to the doctrine, and finally, an observation of fruit through an increase of the love of God, or charity, in my life. In this manner, faith, hope, and the fruit of charity have rebuilt a doctrinal tree of delicious, carefully acquired spiritual fruit that is undeniably sweeter than anything deconstruction could offer.

I could spend hours walking you through every ex-Mormon doubt I had and why I had been wrong, but time does not permit. When, as an ex-Mormon, I returned to a church that had stopped using that nickname, I joked that we are all ex-Mormons now! The overarching observation of this talk is that doctrinal or church history doubts are relatively unimportant compared to the foundation of faith in a loving Heavenly Father and His Son. Whenever concerns arise, avoid the temptation to throw the babe of Bethlehem out with the bathwater.

When I had removed the Father and Son from the foundation of my belief system, I naturally became more focused on the things of this world and how they relate to one another. I adopted agnosticism, which avoids placing a stake in any particular spiritual belief. It is a lot easier to point cynical fingers of doubt, including the ones we keep to ourselves, than it is to have the moral courage of faith. Maybe the “spaciousness” of that great building is the emptiness that the experience of exercising faith could have otherwise filled.

I close with a story from the first year of the church. John Whitmer, the first church historian, wrote, “In the beginning of the church, while yet in her infancy, the disciples used to exclude unbelievers, which caused some to marvel.” The Lord corrected the error with Section 46 of the D&C, which some dub as the “Visitors Welcome section.” In verse 5, the Lord says, “And again I say unto you, ye shall not cast any out of your sacrament meetings who are earnestly seeking the kingdom.” So we’re here together on our faith journeys. Then He goes on to say, in verses 11-14, “For all have not every gift given unto them; for there are many gifts, and to every man is given a gift by the Spirit of God. To some is given one, and to some is given another, that all may be profited thereby. To some it is given by the Holy Ghost to know that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and that he was crucified for the sins of the world. To others it is given to believe on their words, that they also might have eternal life if they continue faithful.”

Sometimes, we may not have any better reason to accept our gift of faith than to trust the testimony of someone we respect until our faith can stand on its own. One of the reasons I come to church is to mingle with those who take their faith seriously, share experiences, and strengthen one another. In the 4th century, Saint Basil the Great visited the Egyptian and Syrian hermits who were living in isolation. He admired their dedication but concluded that solitary monasticism was incomplete. Basil taught that the essence of the Christian life—love, charity, forgiveness, service—cannot be practiced in a cave, because it requires other people. Thus, no spirituality is complete without a religious community. We need both.

Earlier this month, Elder Uchtdorf posted to social media, “Faith in Jesus Christ is a gift, but receiving it is a conscious choice that requires a commitment of all our ‘might, mind and strength’ (Moroni 10:32).” So, faith is not something we arrogantly presume to generate ourselves, but we choose to open up to and receive.

Our Stake President Zivic invited us in last week’s Stake Conference to “replace fear with faith and to replace hostility and indifference with charity.” There’s that spiritual investigation, hopeful experimentation, and loving charitable fruit. I pray we heed his counsel.

With the gift of faith in my life, I have found incredible strength, peace, and purpose as I have weathered storms of betrayal, employment uncertainty, health challenges, and relationship upheaval. Things that could have thrown me seriously off track have been swallowed up in the fruits of practicing faith in Jesus Christ. I feel the love of God in my life, which comes from choosing a mind that opens to Him. His healing balm and enabling power fill me with Thanksgiving for what lies ahead.

In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

After three days in the tomb, Jesus broke the bands of death and rose to a new, resurrected life. This miracle of miracles is the central point on which faith in Christ rests. He rose with healing in His wings, bringing hope of life after death and redemption from sin to all who would hear His voice.

The events of Holy Week marked the end of Jesus Christ’s mortal sojourn on earth. He is no longer with us, but has ascended to His Father in heaven. Though gone, His voice is still with us in the form of the Holy Spirit. This still, small voice is the light within us that prompts us towards truth, virtue, and life. We all have access to His voice.

But we hear other voices. Paul said, “There are… so many kinds of voices in the world” (1 Corinthians 14:10) that compete with the voice of the Spirit. The Spirit’s voice is ever-present, yet calm. Said Isaiah, “And the work of righteousness shall be peace; and the effect of righteousness quietness and assurance for ever” (Isaiah 32:17). The adversary tries to smother this voice with a multitude of loud, persistent, persuasive, and appealing voices:

• Murmuring voices that conjure up perceived injustices.
• Whining voices that abhor challenge and work.
• Seductive voices offering sensual enticements.
• Soothing voices that lull us into carnal security.
• Intellectual voices that profess sophistication and superiority.
• Proud voices that rely on the arm of flesh.
• Flattering voices that puff us up with pride.
• Cynical voices that destroy hope.
• Entertaining voices that promote pleasure-seeking.
• Commercial voices that tempt us to “spend money for that which is of no worth” and/or “labor for that which cannot satisfy” (2 Nephi 9:51).
• Delirious voices that spawn the desire for a [numbing] “high.”

Technology and algorithms have amplified these voices to a fever pitch. Those who do not curate and filter these voices become subject to them, drowning out the voice that leads to elevated frames of mind.

You must see with the eye of faith eternal, unseen, spiritual verities, whereas the masses of mankind depend solely on temporal things, which can be known only through the physical senses. This solution may not be popular, it may not get you gain, or worldly power. But it will bring you far greater fruits of the spirit, such as “love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance” (Galatians 5:22–23). The joy we seek is not a fleeting emotional high, but a lasting inner joy cultivated through long experience and trust in God. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “Rectitude is a perpetual victory, celebrated not by cries of joy, but by serenity, which is joy fixed or habitual” (“Character,” Essays: Second Series [1844]).

This Easter Sunday, let’s review the voices we allow into our minds and ask ourselves if those inputs are serving our best interests. May we all seek to hear the best voices and find joy in hearing the sweet voice of His Spirit more regularly in our lives.

(Reference: “The voice of the Spirit,” by James E. Faust)

Like the unleavened bread of Passover, Christ’s body did not rise on the Sabbath of Holy Saturday. While Christ’s body lay in rest in the tomb, His spirit preached the gospel to spirits in prison.

From 1 Peter, we read:

• 3:18-19 – “For Christ also hath once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God, being put to death in the flesh, but quickened by the Spirit: By which also he went and preached unto the spirits in prison;”
• 4:6 – “For for this cause was the gospel preached also to them that are dead, that they might be judged according to men in the flesh, but live according to God in the spirit.”

During His mortal ministry, Jesus had taught, “Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God” (John 3:1–2, 5). Through the ministry organized by Jesus Christ on Holy Saturday, the work of preaching His gospel among those who are dead commenced. Those who accept the gospel in the spirit world will have the opportunity to receive baptism through baptisms for the dead performed by the living. This vicarious work brings blessings to those who did not have the chance to accept the gospel in mortal life, as well as those who serve as proxies on earth.

Paul taught baptism for the dead with, “Else what shall they do which are baptized for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? why are they then baptized for the dead?” (1 Corinthians 15:29). The dead do rise; baptism for the dead is a vital work in our Father’s plan of salvation.

This Holy Saturday, let us reflect on the temporary nature of mortal life and the eternal nature of the soul. Spiritual growth continues beyond the grave, and Jesus Christ is our guide here and will be our guide there.

In the early hours of Friday morning, Jesus was subjected to covert trials among Jewish and Roman leaders. Ultimately, Jewish leaders swayed public sentiment against Him, and Pilate capitulated to demands that He be crucified.

Here, Jesus was not only buffeted with the pains of ridicule, whip, assault, and crucifixion, but once again He suffered pains beyond human comprehension as He took upon Himself the work of atonement.

As Tad Callister relates, “He took upon him infinite suffering, but chose to defend with only mortal faculties, with but one exception–his godhood was summoned to hold off unconsciousness and death (i.e., the twin relief mechanisms of man) that would otherwise overpower a mere mortal when he reached his threshold of pain. For the Savior, however, there would be no such relief. His divinity would be called upon, not to immunize him from pain, but to enlarge the receptacle that would hold it. He simply brought a larger cup to hold the bitter drink.”

In the moment of most profound agony, He cried out, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46). Callister continues, “Here was a God whose knowledge reigned supreme, yet there was still a ‘why’–a gap between his cognitive powers and empirical senses. He had encountered a dark zone, an intellectual ‘out of bounds,’ even for him. Perhaps he did not expect this. Perhaps he did not contemplate a total abandonment. Perhaps he did not comprehend in advance the totality of the aloneness he must endure. Perhaps his infinite mind knew and understood all that is possible to know in advance, but even this fell short of the hard-core reality that comes from actual experience. In any event, it was a soul-wrenching moment. Would he continue to have faith in that God who had now withdrawn, [of whom he had] only hours earlier declared, ‘I am not alone, because the Father is with me’ (John 16:32)?”

Jesus never wavered in His love and loyalty for His Father, even in abandonment while racked with infinite pain. He set the perfect example and, in so doing, overcame all death and hell.

This Good Friday, let’s look to Christ as the Exemplar. That we, too, can trust our Father despite our pains and feelings of aloneness. Through Christ, we can know that our trials are temporary and relief will come.

On Maundy Thursday, Jesus held the Last Supper with His disciples. He instituted the sacrament and, in a masterclass of servant leadership embodied in His gospel, washed His disciples’ feet. Afterwards, He went to the Garden of Gethsemane, where His work of atoning for the sins of the world began.

In ways that are impossible to comprehend fully, but worth every effort to come to know better, Jesus met the demands of justice for all humanity. As nicely described in The Infinite Atonement, the atonement of Jesus Christ is infinite in power, time, coverage, depth, suffering, and love. It brings the blessings of resurrection, repentance, peace of mind, succor, motivation, exaltation, freedom, and grace. It is the bedrock upon which all creation rests, giving hope of transformation from a fallen to a redeemed state of being.

More personally, in the atonement, Jesus Christ intimately loved each one of us enough to suffer along with us in every pain, temptation, sickness, and negative aspect of our lives. His charity knew no bounds. In that, He came to understand us and our experiences better than we know ourselves. In that, He can heal our hearts, minds, and bodies through faith in Him. In that, He can justify us when we repent and sanctify us from future temptation.

During the pain He felt in the agony in the garden, “His sweat was, as it were, great drops of blood falling upon the ground” (Luke 22:44). Afterwards, Jewish leaders, led by the traitor Judas Iscariot, arrested Jesus. There would be no sleep for Him on the final night of His mortal life.

This Easter season, let us reflect on the ways we move beyond the pains of the past, changing our hearts and transforming into a brighter future through the atonement of Jesus Christ.

On Holy Wednesday, Mary of Bethany, the sister of Martha and Lazarus, anointed Jesus’s feet with a costly perfume made of nard. She also wiped his feet with her hair. Upon seeing this, several disciples were upset by their perceived waste of expensive ointment when that monetary value could have been donated to the poor. Upon hearing this, Jesus replied, “She hath wrought a good work upon me. For ye have the poor always with you; but me ye have not always. For in that she hath poured this ointment on my body, she did it for my burial.”

This event might have been the last straw that broke scheming Judas Iscariot’s back. Upset by Jesus’ financial decision-making and frustrated that his plans for political domination did not seem likely, Judas left to betray Jesus to corrupt Jewish leaders.

Meanwhile, Jesus spent the day resting and preparing for the monumental events that would occur the remainder of the week. Today, we can reflect on the negative ways we betray the Lord and His gospel, on the one hand, and the positive ways we rest our minds and hearts in preparation for deeper personal sacrifice, on the other.

Today, I include bonus content sharing parallels between Holy Week and the Jewish Passover. For more, see this video.

On Holy Tuesday, Jesus taught in the temple. Here is a nice ChatGPT summary of the things he taught.

In this post, I dive into the parable of the Ten Virgins, depicted in this video:

What stands out to me is that this is a parable of the reality of boats that can be missed through inaction, distraction, and slothful, lazy behavior. The grandest among these boats to miss is to be unprepared for the Second Coming of Jesus Christ. But we miss many other boats when living in less prepared states. Sometimes, we miss opportunities for family-building, child-rearing, friendship-strengthening, career and educational growth, and more.

The parable motivates taking actions that delay gratification and build something more significant than present whims. It encourages healthy habits that accumulate oil of conversion in the lamps of testimony one drop at a time.

Note that even the five who kept no oil in their lamps were willing virgins for the bridegroom. They wanted to be on the boat. They were those whose actions did not align with their commitments and desires. Their neglect left them behind.

Note that when they asked those with oil for help, the faithful virgins did not ignore them or shame them. They stated the truth and shared the best potential solution they could imagine. But there was no chance for them. There is no quick fix to putting yourself in an entirely unprepared state. The growth and maturation required take time. While you can change direction as fast as it takes to say “I’ll change” and mean it, you cannot cover the ground of transformation overnight. It takes time, effort, and iteration to follow through.

Note that when they arrived at the door, the bridegroom did not ignore them or shame them. He spoke to them, even if it was with words that hurt to hear. He delivered the truth. He knows those virgins have become something that is not aligned with their voiced desires. In that confusing, split frame of mind, how could He know who they really are? They are living dual lives. He dismissed them with, “I know you not.”

As Elder Bednar reminds us, there are “many possible interpretations of the parable of the ten virgins to highlight the relationship between testimony and conversion.” This Easter season, I hope we reflect on duality in our lives. Where are we committing or omitting actions unaligned with who we want to become? Write those down and change them. The atonement of Jesus Christ enables us to repent.

—

Footnotes:

1. Fearless, written moral inventories of our lives are Step 4 of 12-step programs, which we could all benefit from and use to evaluate our preparedness in life.
2. For motivation to repent and to reframe what that word means in your life, see:

On Holy Monday, Jesus cleansed the temple. He “poured out the coins of the money-changers” and “overturned [their] tables and the seats of those who sold pigeons.” He “drove out those who sold and those who bought in the temple” along with their “oxen and sheep and pigeons.”

In the four gospels, we are given only two reasons Jesus took this action:

• “do not make my Father’s house a house of trade”
• “you have made it a den of robbers”

In scripture, some of the harshest condemnation is directed at those who seek monetary advantage over their neighbors. Isaiah speaks condemningly of “grinding on the faces of the poor.” The salient sins of Sodom and Gomorrah were not sexual but financial; they were withholding substance from the poor. Doing the same in the Father’s “house of prayer” led Jesus to take aggressive action to make His message clear: foreigners and poor people are not to be taken advantage of, especially when it comes to religious practice.

Much to the dismay of those who seek to justify their anger and contention, in no verse do we find that Jesus hurt, injured, or singled out criticism of any particular vendor. Instead, His actions were directed at tables and chairs and moving people through seemingly erratic behavior, not through physical harm.

When you think about cleansing the temple, remember the reason: to eradicate unfair trade and warfare on lower classes, not to give us a caveat to His unmistakable mission of peace.

(This year, I am reverencing Easter week with one post per day.)

Even though Jesus had taught His disciples in plain terms that His time with them was ending, they failed to revise their expectations of how things should happen. They were in denial. Their belief that He was the Messiah came with the expectation that He would deliver their Jewish nation from the immediate oppression of Roman occupation. Little did they understand that His mortal work was not concerned with the immediate, but rather, He was focused on the indeterminate—conquering sin and death through an infinite atonement.

This year, I think of how the disciples must have felt as they entered Jerusalem with crowds gathered, heralding Him as King of Kings. They must have tasted the potential of what they hoped would be. Their celebration and worship of the Son of God were welcome and holy, but their reliance on their own understanding of what those celebratory events would mean was not.

We often experience similar celebratory moments and the complex challenges that follow. Long stretches of growth, challenges, and setbacks follow celebratory honeymoons in relationships, careers, and all other worthwhile pursuits. While celebrations have their place and purpose, true happiness is mined in doing hard things.

In education and business, this same phenomenon is known as the Dunning–Kruger effect.

When we first start to learn something, gain a skill, or start a relationship, it is easy to become overconfident. Once we learn more, we realize how little we know, how far we have to go, and how complicated relationships can be. These realizations can lead to despair. Healthy, stable, and long-lasting fruits are found in long stretches of work, not in the hype and party.

Use this Palm Sunday to reflect on your hopes. While looking to the Messiah for redemption is good, it is not good to believe it comes on truncated timelines without passing through the hard work accompanying actual growth. May we celebrate bright visions and have the patience and determination to see them through over long periods of growth.

(I originally announced my return to church here.)

I have had the most amazing weekend. I was rebaptized on the Saturday of Father’s Day weekend. I made a special covenant with my Heavenly Father to serve Him and to be the best mortal father I can be. My father baptized me, and my children were there, with my eldest children serving as witnesses.

I now have the Gift of the Holy Ghost and am opening my heart to whatever else I can change about myself as I follow Him. It has been one wild ride, for real.

There were 100 friends and family physically present and 50 Zoom participants. People from every season and area of my life showed up. My heart is full.

Here is a baptismal pic with my parents:

Here are the remarks I gave in my testimony during the baptismal program:

What a beautiful sight to behold! Before I get going, let me share how grateful I am for each of you. My favorite people are here. In this room and on Zoom are friends and family from all areas and seasons of my life. Most important to me is my family: my six children (David, Amy, Katherine, Michael, James, and Beckham), my parents (Dave and Becky), my siblings (Steven, Eric, Bill and Laura), and Kaylynn, mother to Beckham. Here I also have:

• Echoly and other friends from my North Carolina childhood,
• Brian and Robbie from my BYU college days that flew in from Colorado and Arizona,
• Friends from my mission, including President and Sister Martino and Elders Alvarez (who surprised me with a visit from Boston) and Grossarth, who served as mission trainer and companion with me in Venezuela,
• Gallagher from years of graduate study at Georgia Tech and our ArrayFire startup (which coincidentally turns 14 years old today), along with Stefan and Umar, who are co-maintainers on ArrayFire and now colleagues at Intel,
• Church friends from the Smyrna Ward, where we lived for nearly a decade,
• Church friends from the Crabapple Ward where we are right now,
• Matt and Martin from my entrepreneurial forum, which has been pivotal to my growth and rebound,
• And my friends from going out in Atlanta. I’m glad you’re here.

Oh, how I love you all! Thank you so much for being here.

I recognize that many faiths and value systems are represented here today, as well as so many beautiful groups and backgrounds. I am humbled by the opportunity to share my faith journey with you.

As I pondered and prayed about what to share today, I thought of Jesus. How do gatherings like this serve His purposes? What is a sacrament, such as baptism, to Him?

I have been impressed by the relationships built in such moments. Jesus cares most about those. Perhaps sacraments are exactly that:  opportunities to build relationships with God in the presence of the people we love most.

When we are baptized, we make a covenant (or two-way commitment) with Jesus. Covenants strengthen our relationship with Him. They move people beyond general desires to do good into specific, active commitments that fulfill those desires in partnership with Him.

The baptismal covenant I will make in a few minutes is beautiful and comprehensive in its brevity. Listen to this sentence; my dad will say: “I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.” That covenant is a promise to belong to Them, to be immersed in their holy names. Again, “I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.” They are One in purpose and perfectly united.

Immersion in the name of God, belonging to Him, invokes things like doing His will, keeping His commandments, serving others, and striving to become like Him, following the example set by Jesus Christ, who, though sinless, was baptized. In return, Heavenly Father promises to pour out His Spirit upon the person baptized, guiding him or her towards “eternal life, through the redemption of Christ” (Mosiah 18:13). I am ready to be baptized to make this covenant. My brother Steven will explain more about baptism once I finish my remarks.

In addition to being baptized by water, I will be baptized by fire, meaning the Gift of the Holy Ghost. This is called confirmation. In that, I will promise to “receive the Holy Ghost.” My mom will explain more about the Holy Ghost after I am baptized.

So, building my relationship with Jesus is one purpose for gathering today. Another purpose is to build relationships among the people I love most as I do so. That is why I have invited you all. And that is why you have come. The arc of life is shaped by covenants made (or not made) with God and our fidelity to those sacred promises. Clear commitments like these made in front of friends sink deep. There is no stealth mode to them. We make them in front of witnesses. We make them in the presence of the people we love the most—each of you.

When I am baptized, my two eldest children, David and Amy, will serve as the official witnesses, representing each man and woman and each boy and girl in attendance who will likewise witness this central moment in my life.  Oh, how grateful I am that we can share this moment!

So that is my first point. We are here to build relationships, first and foremost. With God and with each other.

Now, I’d like to share a little about how I got here. This is not the first time I have been baptized. I was baptized 36 years ago at the age of 8. In my 30s, I left my faith and lived outside the gospel of Jesus Christ. I am grateful for those years because I learned, loved, and lived amazing experiences. But I also made many poor choices and hurt some of the people I love most. I was living with blinders on, blunting my sensibilities with a variety of addictive, numbing behaviors.

In 2020, two beautiful, unanticipated experiences led me to my turnaround. First, I had a pivotal moment with Kaylynn that led me to improve my relationship with her. Her words finally broke through my stubborn pride. Kaylynn, I will always remember and love you for that. I am grateful that we have become best friends today.

Two weeks after she broke through to me, in June 2020, I fell ill with COVID-19 for 28 days. For the first half of that, I was so sick. Too sick to even listen to music. I just laid there, miserable. I had ample time in my head, alone, quarantined. I evaluated my life and grew very angry at the church. I pointed my finger of blame outward. As my lungs healed, I began to hatch a plan to fight the church I was blaming.

In that contemplation, I asked myself how sure I was of my disbelief. That inner interrogation caused me to ask myself, “What do I hope is true?” I thought of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I thought of the principles for which He stands. I realized that I still loved Him if He was real. I needed to know if He was there. The more I thought of Him, the more my mind opened. My thoughts about Him turned to prayerful communication with Him. I was so bewildered and blessed by this renewing prayer that I could not sleep. He came to my mind and spoke thoughts that became unmistakable to me.

For the second half of the 28 days, I could not sleep more than a few hours a night. My mind raced. We now know that COVID-19 affects the brain, and this racing mind condition is playfully dubbed “Coronasomnia.” It was wild. I wrestled with God nonstop in my mind. What if I had been wrong? What were all the implications? What a terrible gulf of misery I felt as I recognized my sins! What a daunting challenge I faced as I began to emotionally feel the weight of the wrong choices I had made! I turned the finger of blame at myself.

I was not humbled all at once. It was a process over two weeks. I kept trying to carve out exceptions with God. “I’ll return to church, but I am not going to accept this or that,” were my ongoing wrestled ruminations as I worked things out in my mind with Him. In ways that are difficult to describe and in my life’s miracle of miracles, events in the real world synchronized with events in my mind so seamlessly that I understood the omniscience and awesome timing of the Lord. Each time I humbled myself around a principle, I found rest in it. Each day that passed, I grew closer to God.

And each day that passed, I also grew more delirious and deranged. My friend, Dayo, recognized my bitter struggle and came to sit with me in my home. He stayed up with me for days in one of the kindest gifts of charity I have ever received. The conversations with him and many of you during that time were some of my life’s most important. On July 2nd, Dayo and I thought being around other friends might benefit my mental health, so we ventured out to Buckhead on a Thursday night.

Venturing out turned into a disaster. As we approached Tongue & Groove, a local club that I used to call “home” because I visited so frequently with friends, I was on the precipice of insanity and out of control. Over 90 minutes, I had a taste of hell as I could not fully control myself. My memory of the whole thing is a blur. I am grateful that I was tackled by Tongue & Groove bouncers and by Dayo, who ultimately pinned me to the sidewalk to guard me and keep me safe.

I was surrounded by police officers as we awaited a mental hospital ambulance to carry me away. I am forever grateful for Dayo, Holden, and Craig, who kept me safe as I fought with him and talked the officers out of arresting me. This was my rock bottom. It was by far the most bitter pain I have ever experienced, an anguish and fear that stripped me of all physical security except for the love of Jesus in my mind.

When I arrived at the hospital, I was sedated and had the best sleep of my life. When I awoke, I felt so much better. After a brief evaluation, they released me, and I went home. From Friday, July 3rd, to Sunday, July 5th, I was again alone at home. My mind again turned to prayer. This time, the worst of my wrestling was over. I felt Jesus lift the burden of my blaming finger and settle my mind into the assurance that He was pleased with my change of heart. What remained was no longer a wrestled decision but an implementation of the long, repentant journey home.

So, in that 28-day timeframe, I went from having no desire to think about church to nearly fighting it to regaining my faith entirely. I baffled all of you. I baffled myself. I had no intention of having this experience. I feel as though I was rescued. It was my time to be gathered home, and His voice came into my mind with such clarity that I refound my faith.

Those initial thoughts about “What do I hope to be true?” are the ones that softened my mind the most. Do I want to live in the present, primarily optimizing for selfish outcomes in this world? Or do I want to build towards something more noble based on the sort of soul-refining sacrifice I will remember joyfully as I review my life in the next? The shift from blaming others and self-soothing with temporary pleasure to accepting personal accountability and building healthier, substantive relationships has renewed joy in all areas of my life.

Several times in this journey, I have had to take a leap of faith to change, to repent. Sometimes, I did things I did not want to do based on the testimony of others—just to experiment. And those experiments worked and gave me my own testimony of the principle. I chipped away at the journey home to sobriety and chastity over four years, step by step.

I began coming to church. I wrote my confession and started working with Bishop Tady. What a great Bishop he was and what great friends the Tadys have been to our family for over a decade! With help from many of you, I was able to end my addictions and find steadiness in gospel-centered living.

The road home has been beautiful. I am so ready to make this covenant with Jesus, witnessed by you, as we build loving relationships and inspire one another to have faith in God, repent of whatever it is that we know we can do better, and seek to make and keep lifelong commitments to do good and sacrifice ourselves in doing something greater with our lives.

I pray that we all dive into our hearts and seek out the ennobling of the soul through prayerful consideration of the spiritually unseen. Take a chance on God for a bit. Experiment. And see if you do not find Him in that sincerity. I know He lives and responds to the earnest in heart in individually recognizable ways. A sparked thought to help someone or make a change. An enlarged soul that gains enthusiasm to do hard things. Comfort, love, and rest in truth.

I am specifically grateful for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We are a group of believers in Jesus Christ who claim a Restoration of the ancient authority necessary to make covenants with Him, baptize and confirm members into His church, and be guided ongoing by volunteer leaders He calls to serve.

We have steep standards of conduct which we live, but we lovingly open our arms to everyone, no matter our current ability to live them. When members leave, we wish them well, and when they return, we welcome them home. I have felt that love from each of you and will forever be grateful to you for demonstrating in person the same sort of love Jesus brought as a healing balm to my mind.

I know Jesus lives. He died on the cross, offering an atonement for our sins, and was resurrected. Through Him, we can become clean and return to live with our Heavenly Father again.

In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.