When faith is forced into the spotlight

I write today with a heavy heart, as my faith and the faith of my fathers has been thrust into the public eye under tragic circumstances. As a lifelong member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I am deeply grieved by the recent violence that has touched fellow members of my faith community in Michigan and the shocking murder of Charlie Kirk in Utah just weeks ago.

For much of my life, my religion has been represented in uplifting ways, through boyish-faced missionaries in white shirts, the grace of athletes like Steve Young, the harmonies of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and even the cultural footprint of the Osmond family. These public images brought a sense of pride, even a gentle smile, to those of us who were raised in the fold. They painted faith as something inspiring, something to share.

From Mitt Romney to “The Secret Life of Mormon Wives,” from Ezra Taft Benson to singer David Archuleta, Mormonism spans the entire political and cultural spectrum. Ours is a faith that should never be reduced to labels of right or left, conservative or liberal. At its best, it is not about ideology at all, but about the teachings of Jesus Christ and the example of love, service and peace that He set.

The last few weeks, however, have felt drastically different. On September 10, conservative political activist Charlie Kirk was murdered in front of thousands in Orem, Utah, a city considered by many to be the heart of Mormon culture, just minutes from Brigham Young University. The alleged attacker was himself raised in my faith. And just this past Sunday, as hundreds gathered to worship in a Latter-day Saint meetinghouse in Grand Blanc, Michigan, violence struck again. A man drove a truck into the building, set it on fire and opened fire on those inside. Four lives were lost, taken by bullets or consumed in the blaze.

These events leave me shaken. My faith, which once seemed to live mostly in quiet worship and community service, now appears in headlines that speak of murder and madness. It is disorienting and heartbreaking to see something sacred associated with such horror.

Just hours before the horrific events in Michigan, President Russell M. Nelson, the leader of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, passed away at the age of 101. His first career was as a gifted medical healer, and his second as a spiritual healer to millions. At this moment of sorrow and conflict, his words should resonate with us all: “Anger never persuades. Hostility builds no one. Contention never leads to inspired solutions.” With his passing, his plea feels even more urgent: “You have your agency to choose contention or reconciliation. I urge you to choose to be a peacemaker, now and always.”

Faith is supposed to anchor us, to remind us that, in the face of chaos, there can still be peace, compassion and hope. Yet in these moments I find myself asking hard questions: How do we reconcile the goodness we’ve experienced in our congregations with the evil carried out by those who share our religious background? How do we respond when houses of worship, meant to be sanctuaries, become targets?

I don’t pretend to have easy answers. What I do know is this: Faith is not defined by the headlines. It is defined by the people who show up, quietly and consistently, to care for their neighbors. It is defined by those who sing in choirs, coach youth teams, visit the sick or simply extend a hand to a struggling friend. It is in these ordinary acts of compassion that faith survives, even when violence threatens to overshadow it.

I pray that whatever church you attend, or even within the walls of your own home, you will open your heart to people of every background and belief. My hope is for a “Big Tent” kind of faith, one wide enough to recognize our differences yet strong enough to celebrate our common ground. That vision must also include acknowledging and embracing people as they are: who they are, who they love and who they vote for. Such a faith does not shrink in the face of diversity; it grows more Christlike by welcoming it.

Today, my heart is with those who are grieving in Michigan, and with all who feel shaken in their worship. May we hold fast to the best parts of our faith traditions. And may we remember that they are strongest not in grand displays but in the daily, deliberate choice to love.