*I wrote the below in 2022. I don’t remember what made me write the below. I don’t know what I was so frustrated about. That frustration comes out in what I wrote. I hopen no one ever thinks I think I’m better than anyone because I go to church. That might be one of the hardest things about coming back to church. Everyone thinks you’re different. And you are, I guess. I guess that’s part of change.
How do you make life changes without making others feel like you now think youâre better than them?
How do you give advice to others if they think youâre just criticizing them?
How do you be religious without making others feel judged?Â
How do you share church, and religion, and life changes without sounding like you think you’re right because you’ve found the right way, when you do think you’re right because you do think you’ve found a better way?
Have I come across this way?
I guess the answer is mostly â you canât control what people think. You can only control yourself.
If someone feels judged because youâve changed, and youâre happy about your changes, and you want to share it, how do you stop that? I donât think you can.Â
The former alcoholic that is proud to share their 1-year chip and how healthy they are compared to 366 days ago â to the current alcoholic that person can seem self-righteous.Â
The person who now goes to church every week and invites friends comes across as holier than thou aka obnoxious because theyâve found God again. But everyone remembers the monster they used to be, and maybe, because of that past remembrance, canât take them seriously.Â
Iâve found that giving advice to others can often be a lose-lose.
Either
They say, âYou never did xyz so you donât understand.”
Or
They say, âWell you did it, who are you to talk?âÂ
I recently gave such advice and fell into category 2. Advice lovingly given. How do you express that itâs lovingly given?Â
I always think if you do something with love in your heart, your intentions will be understood. Thatâs not real life. The purest intentions from others to give me advice when I didnât want to hear it was never received well by me.
I guess thatâs the nature and problem of life.
How do you live religiously in a non-religious world?
Is this a self-righteous post? I don’t know.
It might be the closest to a rant that I’ve ever given in writing.
Oh I how I look forward to having kids who think Iâve never lived life and that I know nothing about what theyâre going through. Iâm sorry, parents, for always thinking that. Now I get it. And I know Iâll get it more when I have teenagers.Â
I just finished the book The Room. Without spoiling too much, itâs about a woman who is captured and kept locked up in an 11 foot by 11 foot room with her five-year-old son who is born into captivity.
It is a good book. The most interesting part is that it’s written from the perspective of the five-year-old. Â
At the end of the book there was a âReading Group Guideâ with questions to consider. One of them was, âWhy do people tend to be so fascinated by stories of long-term confinement?â
I pondered this a bit. The obvious answer is that our freedom is so precious to us, we canât imagine something so terrible, so weâre drawn to it. Like watching a train crash or the modern true crime craze.
There is a longer answer, though.
Our freedom, our agency, is the most important thing in the world to each of us. Our ability to choose and make our own choices is more important to us than anything. Itâs more important to God than anything, also. Thatâs why weâre here.Â
I think this fascination with confinement and the inability to choose is a fascination with something we know to be inherently wrong.
Every one of us here on earth chose to come here, to Earth. There were some who didnât choose this. There was one that tried to take away our freedom, to force us to choose his way. He phrased it as a way to save us all, but really, what he was proposing was enslavement. Satan proposed the plan that would have us all return to heaven. The catch was that we would have no say in the matter. We would be compelled to follow him, to do it his way. We would be his puppets. In return, he would ensure we got back safely.Â
God always wants us to choose.
We even chose to be able to choose. We are here because we chose agency and freedom. Â
I think thatâs why these stories are so fascinating to us. We already chose freedom. Being here on Earth was a choice. God will always give us a choice. Not being given a choice feels wrong because it is wrong. Â
We already chose to reject Satan and come here and use our agency.
Every once in a while, I feel guilt for things I did, the person I used to be, the people I hurt, the pain I caused, the horrible things I was a part of. I know it seemsâŚlike I havenât really changed if I only feel that guilt every once in a while. Guilt is an interesting thing.Â
Every once in a while, I look back on who I was. Iâll feel some guilt for the worst things I was a part of. I think Iâll always feel that, in this life, to some extent. Itâs like a prick in my side, as the scriptures would say. It stays with me because I need to be reminded of where bad choices lead.
The most interesting thing about the guilt of my past is itâs not really there, anymore. By this I mean, when I think about it, I more think about the people I hurt, and I feel sorry. But those feelings have become distant, like an old me.
I know there will be, or I hope there will be, some people who read this that I did hurt. I know theyâre going to read this and scoff. âOh good for you, youâve been forgiven. What about me? The person you hurt.â Thatâs the guilt that still hits me sometimes.
I have tried to reach out to some people from my past, especially early on. There were things I had to say and people I had to speak to before the weight of my guilt could be lifted off me. Itâs intrerstingâŚfor years I didnât let go of some of the weight I was carrying. And it was a weight. It was slowly killing me.
I havenât been forgiven because of myself. I havenât chosen to forgive myself.
I know a lot of my friends who have only known me in the last few years read this. They might sometimes wonder what makes me so passionate about church, God, the gospel, etc.
I know a lot of my friends and people who knew me back when I was in full âof the worldâ mode and they now wonder, âWhat the heck changed? When did he become a God nut?â
I know there are people from high school who will think similar things.
I hope this explains a little bit about why Iâve become so passionate to share about Jesus Christ, to talk about Jesus Christ, to write about Jesus Christ. I hope for everyone who knew me in high school, everyone who knew me through college, everyone who knew me through church, I hope this can explain why I canât stop talking about Jesus Christ.
At least once a week I cry in gratitude. Because when I think about my past, itâs not really there anymore. Like I said, some guilt will always be there. But the overwhelming sadness at who I used to be is gone. I shed tears once a week asking God why. Why did He save me? What am I worth to Him?
I canât be ashamed of Jesus Christ anymore. I was ashamed and embarrassed to be a believer and outward worshiper of Him for too long.
Today, I feel with an all too real sensation that He died for me. He suffered, and bled, and was scourged, and was insulted, and humbly took it, for me. Without Him that guilt would still be killing me. Iâve been washed clean by His blood. And thatâs why Iâve changed. For all those who used to know me, thatâs why I am the way I am now. Because the feeling of what Christ did for me is too real of a feeling.
This forgiveness didnât come over night. I didnât one day feel great. It was months and months of being on my knees, crying, begging. It was reaching out to certain people. It was being humble enough to admit I made so many mistakes. And over time, I donât know exactly when it happened, but one day my guilt was a thing of the past. Sometimes I feel guilt because my guilt is a thing of the past.
Guilt is an interesting thing.
I still make many, many mistakes.
If there is anyone reading this that is still scoffing, thinking, âWell you were a jerk to me, screw you.â Please forgive me. You can comment here anonymously and really lay into me. I know there are still things I might need to make up for. Christ forgave me but others might still have to. Please reach out to me if I ever hurt you so I can try my best to ask for your forgiveness.
For anyone reading this who thinks their choices are who they are. Your choices make you only if you continue to make them. As soon as you decide to change someone will be there to change you. Guilt doesnât have to be with you forever. It can be washed away. Trust me, itâs a miraculous feeling.Â
I sometimes wonder how I could change so drastically. Being a person who said things like âwashed clean in the blood of Christâ or âChrist saved me.â I never thought I would say things like that. They sound so corny. Then, in quiet moments by myself Iâm overwhelmed by Godâs love and that He gave His Son to dieâŚfor me. Then I decide Iâll be as corny as I have to be. I canât be embarrassed anymore. I just canât. Because I know Christ was never embarrassed to claim me. Through all my mistakes and through all the moments He should have turned His back on me, He never would, He never did. He always loved me.Â
I havenât been forgiven because of myself. Iâve been forgiven because of Him. Itâs the greatest gift Iâve ever been given and itâs free to us all.Â
Itâs why I still cry EVERY time I hear this song:Â
And I Stand All Amazed:
Video âRemembering in Whom We Have Trustedâ by Elder Allen D. HaynieÂ
*I wrote this sometime around 2019. As I edited it to post in 2026, I felt some sadness at things that are less true than they were 7 years ago. For example, I no longer cry at least once a week. I think about this sometimes. I really used to cry once a week, during the sacrament, when I thought about what Christ did for me. It’s less often now.
While I want to retain that passion and that burning feeling of gratitude within me for what Christ has done for me, it’s also kind of beautiful that I’m less emotional. Part of the reason I’m less emotional is because I feel less guilt about past deeds. I think over time the Atonement of Jesus Christ has more and more healed my soul and my guilt.
I still owe Him a tremendous debt of gratitude. I still owe Him everything. I hope to hold to those emotions while also being able to let go of past guilt as best I can. It’s a balance. A balance afforded me by the Great Healer.
Iâve written about seemingly small moments in my life that made a huge difference on the trajectory of my future. Iâve mentioned a postcard. Iâve also mentioned a seemingly inconsequential invitation to join a basketball team (from that same link). Iâd like to elaborate on that basketball invitation story.
I was so nervous my first time coming back to church that I made my roommate come with me so I didn’t have to go alone. It had been years since I’d been at church.
I only remember one thing about that first day back at church, and it was after sacrament meeting ended. Iâd just sat through my first sacrament meeting in Iâm not sure how many years. I was self-conscious, uncomfortable, ready to leave, when the person in front of me turned around in his seat.
âHey, do you play basketball?â He asked.
I remember being blown away. I remember thinking, “Wow! The spirit is powerful here! How did he know???”
Iâve thought back on that moment. Yes, the spirit was powerful that day. But not in a mystical, this stranger in front of me received a supernatural message that I loved basketball, kind of way. The world would consider that a powerful spiritual experience. What actually happened was equally as powerful, yet more easily “understood” by worldly standards.
The truth is, as I now suspect, the person who sent that postcard went the extra mile. When I asked about going to church, after telling me where they met and what time, she also reached out to the Bishop of that ward. In hindsignt, I’m pretty sure I was brought up in ward council, a meeting where leaders of a church ward discuss pressing matters.
I’m sure I was mentioned. I’m sure Kelsie, the postcard giver, told the bishop I liked basketball. That person who turned around in their chair to ask if I liked basketball was in that meeting. I’m sure he was looking for me.
Is this any less miraculous?
Is it any less of a miracle that an individual, who had never spoken to me before had heard of me and knew I needed friendship extended in my direction? A complete stranger stepped out of his comfort zone and said hi to a stranger and asked a seemingly random question. A complete stranger didnât care if I was the worst basketball player in the world, he still asked me to join a city league team with him.Â
As a basketball player, that last part is significant. I would hesitate to ask someone Iâd never seen play basketball to join my team. How do I know that person can dribble a basketball? How do I know whether or not that person knows how to play team basketball? How do I know whether or not that person is a nightmare on the basketball court?
The invitation that day was about more than basketball. That invitation came from an individual who had heard about me, a wayward soul trying to come back, and followed a spiritual prompting to invite me to play on a basketball team- basketball skills be darned.
That personâs name was David Lake and I owe him a great debt. I have thanked him for that moment. Such a tiny moment. I know he didn’t think about it much after doing it. That was just the kind of person he was. In that moment, a stranger knew me, cared about me, and invited me.Â
That moment made all the difference in my life.
Itâs amazing how a seemingly tiny moment can change the trajectory of a life. Where am I if not for that monumental moment? Did I come to church the next week? Did I meet my wife? Do I have Ivy, Sage, Wren – my own eternal family?Â
There are some moments that carry more weight than others, no matter how seemingly inconsequential.
My invitation to anyone reading- the next time youâre at the grocery store, or the dog park, or the gym, or at work, and that strange thought comes to your mind while youâre conversing with someone, “Invite them.” Do it. You donât know the profound blessing that can change a personâs life because you decide to step out of your comfort zone and invite a stranger.
If you have been blessed by the Gospel of Jesus Christ, share it. Invite others. Itâs the least you can do to thank your Heavenly Father for this gift He has given you.
Beth and I were laughing how roommate Chris is in this picture but I’m not. David Lake prominently placed. Beth and I actually met through church basketball. Crazy huh? As you’ll see in this picture, couldn’t be seen too close to her, would be too obvious.A future wife, future best friend I still coach with, many lifelong friends, and saving Bishop all in one picture. That’s a miracle.
When that baby girl is born in June youâll realize in one momentous second that youâll never be the same.
Itâs the strangest thing. Youâve thought this whole time youâve had a life and then in one moment you realize, âWoah.â Words canât describe the moment a child is born. âHeart expandingâ isnât all encompassing enough. Youâve never had a heart until now. You realize all of a sudden every capacity to care and love that your being has possessed pales in comparison to this overwhelming feeling of care and protection you have for this helpless thing.
Itâs the craziest thing.
Advice.
Donât blink. Dwell on how quickly time passes just enough to kick yourself into gear. So that when youâre tired, and, oh, you think youâve been tired before now? Youâve never known tired. When youâre tired and grumpy and thinking you canât wait until they just get out of diapers, or put on their own pants, or pour their own cereal, until you remember one day will be the last diaper, the last time helping them put on pants, the last time pouring their cereal. Remember every day that one day will be the last day for all these things, and it makes it easier.
Don’t watch those “memories videos” iPhones make at any point after having a daughter. Unless you have 3 hours to spare melting into a puddle of sadness, joy, despair, and existential crisis thinking about how time goes by. And your girl grows.
Donât dwell on this too much or your heart will explode out of your chest.
No Coincidences 