I live by remembering and living by a few simple things:
"A wise man may look foolish when in the company of fools"
"Someone else has always said it better."
"The more I learn, the more I realize that I know nothing."
These are all particularly relevant on Twitter.
Claim: The Book of Mormon contradicts the Bible because 2 Nephi 25:23 says we are saved by grace “after all we can do.”
But that is not a contradiction with Paul.
Paul rejects the idea that we can boast in our own works or earn salvation apart from Christ.
So does the Book of Mormon.
“For we labor diligently… to persuade our children… to believe in Christ, and to be reconciled to God.”
Then comes the line:
“for we know that it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do.”
The point is not:
“Do enough works, then grace kicks in.”
The point is:
After everything we do, it is still grace that saves us.
That is exactly why Nephi says to be “reconciled to God.”
The Book of Mormon does not replace grace with works.
It teaches that grace saves us, and discipleship is what grace-filled people pursue.
Let me explain why I think Freddy resonates.
Lots of Europeans visit the USA as tourists. They visit New York City, or Washington DC, or Hollywood, or Las Vegas, and if they visit natural beauty too, they go to really crowded places like the Grand Canyon or Yellowstone.
So while they see our cultural and natural icons, they are mostly in blue cities and they therefore also see the decline, the homeless, the drugs, the dirt and the rude, rude Americans.
But Freddy is not doing that. Freddy is driving, and he’s doing it through the heartland, where people are kind and polite, the skies are wide open, and the bounty of Buc-ees and Bass Pro Shops are overwhelming.
Freddy is not seeing fentanyl and decline.
He is seeing the real, hopeful, patriotic, kind America that European tourists rarely traverse.
And he loves it.
That’s why Freddy is a phenomenon.
USA. A Mexican restaurant. We had not yet ordered anything, and the food was already arriving.
Chips. Salsa. Unrequested. Free.
I stopped the waiter. "We have not earned these."
"They just come with the table, man."
They come with the TABLE. In my land, hospitality is a debt. Every gift creates an obligation, weighed carefully, returned in the proper season with interest of feeling. Here, the gift arrives before you have even proven you can pay for dinner.
This is not an appetizer. This is a declaration: we trust you. Eat.
I ate with the gravity the moment deserved. And then — I must report this calmly — the basket emptied, and a new one appeared.
"Did we…?"
"Refill," the waiter said. "It's bottomless."
Bottomless. They have wells of salsa. The supply lines of this nation are beyond anything my ancestors imagined.
My friend warned me. "Don't fill up on chips, dude."
Too late. I had accepted three baskets. Honor demanded each one be finished — an unfinished gift is an insult. By the time my actual food arrived, I was a ruined man.
I was not hungry. I was not comfortable. I had been defeated by a courtesy.
Generosity that arrives before the request cannot be repaid. It can only be survived.
I know the rule now. I have made my peace with the basket. One basket. Two at the most.
Who am I deceiving. There is no number of baskets I would refuse. The trust of a nation is in that salsa, and I intend to honor all of it.
Visiting with missionaries in England recently was immensely nostalgic for me, as I also served as a young missionary in this wonderful country.
Elder Clark G. Gilbert and I were so grateful to spend time with these amazing servants. I testify that missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints around the world are indeed the Lord’s emissaries.
The slippery slope that so many warned about is real. We are seeing it play out in real time.
My heart aches for the children growing up in such a confusing world. I pray they feel God’s love and understand who He created them to be.
Is there some sort of secret requirement to be the most insufferable piece of shit to get a position like this? Every week there is some story about a psychotic power tripping nutcase with authority at a school.
This is my last post on X, and I wanted the last word to be one that matters.
The very first commandment God gave in Eden was to multiply and replenish the earth, and the Restoration placed the family at the burning center of the whole plan: the unit of the celestial kingdom, the reason for the temple, the very shape of God's own life.
So when a covenant people quietly stop bearing the next generation, they have not merely made the reasonable lifestyle choice the world applauds. They have begun to set down the first and oldest commandment ever given, and a people who set down the foundation should not wonder why the house begins to sink beneath them.
The Book of Mormon shows you how it happens, and it shows you in slow motion, over and over, until no honest reader can miss it. A people are delivered and made prosperous.
Prosperity breeds comfort. Comfort breeds forgetting. And the forgetting always wears the same face: they come to love the world and its ease more than the covenant and its cost.
They set their hearts on riches and on the praise of men, they grow quietly ashamed of the strict and demanding ways of their fathers, and they trade the weight of the covenant for the lightness of the age.
The empty cradle belongs to that same trade.
Children are heavy, and faith is heavy, and sacrifice is heavy, and everything the covenant has ever asked is heavy, and a people who have fallen in love with their own comfort will not carry what is heavy for long.
So do not mistake what the numbers are telling you. The collapsing birthrate of the Saints is not a sociological curiosity to be smoothed over with better messaging. It is the scriptural pattern arriving on schedule, the visible fever of a covenant people grown too comfortable to bear the weight of their own future.
A people who will not have numerous children have, at the deepest level, stopped believing the future is worth filling with their faith, and a people who no longer believe in their own future are already in the early stages of not having one.
This is the warning the scriptures have been shouting across the centuries, and we have been too soothed to hear it.
And yet the warning has always carried its mercy folded inside it. Every cycle in the Book of Mormon that ended in destruction could have ended in repentance instead, and some did, and the difference was never circumstance. It was never the size of the threat or the strength of the enemy or the hardness of the times.
The difference was always one thing only: whether a people, warned, would humble themselves before the comfort finished its work.
We have been warned.
Your prophets at general conference warned you time and time again. Do not forget their words.
The cradle is the warning made visible. The only question left is the one the scriptures have put to every people who ever stood where we now stand. Will we turn, and take up the weight again, and build a future worth being born into.
Or will we stay comfortable, and go the way of every comfortable people the record has ever buried.
That is my last word.