My brothers and sisters, you are a beautiful sight. In July of 2020, during the height of COVID, I was asked to do a presentation for education week. Only two people were in this enormous hall with me, and they sat behind me to make sure everything went well. Telling a joke and having no one laugh is like when I tell math jokes in my classes.
While pondering what I should speak about, my mind kept coming back to times when, after sharing a spiritual insight or my testimony, a student would ask, “Brother Howard, how can you know the gospel is true? How can anyone really know?”
In last week’s devotional, Brother Doug Barker talked about spiritual preparedness. A big part of that is having a deep knowledge of the truthfulness of the gospel.
Many years ago, I had just graduated from BYU in mathematics. I was accepted into graduate school at Utah State University and was promised a teaching assistantship.
I moved my family to Logan and went to meet with a professor, who I will call Dr. Caldon. He was over the teaching assistants and would be my supervisor. When I walked into his office, the first thing he said shocked me. He said, “I don’t like you.”
I had never met the man in my life. He also said he would not give me the promised assistantship. He said if I still wanted to go to school there I could teach twice as many classes for half the assistantship pay. I accepted, feeling a prompting that was what the Lord would have me do.
Later that fall, there was a party for graduate students, faculty, and their spouses at the home of another professor I will call Dr. David Jensen. I knew little about Dr. Jensen except that he was an atheist.
I decided that it would be good to go to the party, and Donna, my wife, agreed to go with me. When we arrived at Dr. Jensen’s home, a sign on the door told the guests to go through the side gate into the backyard. Donna and I did this, and the first person we ran into was the only professor there—my supervisor, Dr. Caldon. He was drunk, and the minute he saw us, he started to mock me.
“Oh, look,” he called out to the other students who were already there. “The party is now ruined. We have a Mormon goody-two-shoes here, and we won’t be able to have any fun.”
He continued mocking me, and Donna, who wasn’t used to this, whispered, “What is he doing?”
I just told her to ignore him and suggested we go to the opposite corner of the yard. We moved as far away from him as we could, but it just made things worse. Instead of just speaking the things he had been saying, he now yelled them out across the yard to make sure everyone could hear him.
After he had mocked me for a while, a group of other professors entered the yard, led by Dr. Jensen. They were toting big coolers. When Dr. Jensen heard what Dr. Caldon was yelling, he told him to stop. Then Dr. Jensen made an announcement: “The coolers are all full of beer provided by the department. Everyone drink all you want.”
At that point, everyone else moved to the coolers, leaving Donna and me standing alone. Dr. Jensen came over. “Hey,” he said, “why don’t you come join us? Can I get you a beer?”
“Thanks,” I replied, “but we don’t drink alcohol.”
Dr. Jensen looked surprised. “Why not?”
“We’re members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” I answered.
“You’re what?” he asked.
“People sometimes call us Mormons,” I replied.
Dr. Jensen stared at us for a moment in stunned silence. Then he asked, “Is not drinking alcohol a Mormon belief, or is it just yours?”
“It’s part of our church’s belief,” I replied.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know. What would you normally drink when socializing?”
“Well,” I said, “I like root beer, and Donna likes Sprite, but water would be fine.”
He shook his head. “Not at my party.”
He left the party and disappeared for about twenty minutes. When he returned, he had a root beer and a Sprite for us. Donna would never go to a department party again. But at every party I ever went to after that, Dr. Jensen always made sure there was a root beer and a Sprite with tape around them and my name on it.
The following year, I took a class from Dr. Jensen. One of the first things I learned was that he was close to my age, around 24 years old. He had graduated from high school at around 16 years of age, and he went quickly through college, getting a doctorate in mathematics.
Math was Dr. Jensen’s world. On our first day of class, he walked in and informed us that it was impossible to teach anything of value in a math class in one hour. So, instead of having class one hour, three days per week, we were moving it to Tuesdays and Thursdays from four to five-thirty. It was still three hours per week, and it fit everyone’s schedule, so we made the change.
But one problem with Dr. Jensen was he would get so wound up in the math that nothing else mattered. He never wore a watch, and the room didn’t have a clock. He would go and go and go, hardly taking a breath. And when he finally did, he would ask, “Anybody got the time?”
By the time he finally asked that, it was almost always around nine o’clock. He would gasp when we told him, since we were supposed to end at five-thirty, and he would say, “Is it really?” Then he would say, “Let me finish this one last thing, and then we’ll quit.” Then he would go for another hour. I always left exhausted.
The class was a full-year class, going from September to June. We were in the middle of May when something interesting happened. As we ended at the typical ten o’clock time that night, Dr. Jensen called me by name, asked me to stay, and said he wanted to talk to me.
I stayed, and he didn’t say anything until everyone else had left. Then he asked, “Will you please close the door?”
I closed the door and returned to my seat, feeling somewhat anxious about what he wanted to talk about. He sat on the edge of his desk at the front of the room, folded his arms, and the first words out of his mouth caught me by surprise. He said, “There are some things about you that really bug me.”
I was dumbfounded by this. I had thought that we had become friends over that year. After I regained my composure, I asked, “What is it, David?”
This was another unusual thing about Dr. Jensen. He insisted we call him by his first name. He didn’t care for titles, and since he was about the same age as we were, calling him Dr. Jensen made him feel old.
“Do you remember that party at my house the fall you first came here?” he asked.
“Yes, I remember,” I replied.
“Well,” he said, “when you wouldn’t drink alcohol with us because of your religious beliefs, I said to my wife, ‘I hope he never takes my class because he couldn’t be very logical.’ And this last fall, when you signed up for my class, I dreaded having you in it. But when I read your first test, I found your logic was impeccable. I even read it three times.”
“So, what’s the problem?” I asked.
“The problem is that those two things, logic and a belief in God, don’t go together in my mind. I keep thinking that your belief in God would gradually fade away, but if anything, it seems to have gotten stronger, as has your logic. I have watched you, analyzed you, evaluated every assignment you have written, and I don’t feel any closer to understanding you than I did when the school year started. I’ve reread each paper and assignment you’ve turned in at least three times, thinking that someday I will find something that will be the key for me to understand how this contradiction is possible. But I never found anything. I want to know what makes you tick, or I’m going to go crazy the rest of my life thinking about it. “
It was late at night, I was exhausted, and I had never had a question like this before. I didn’t know what to say. “David, can I have some time to think about this?”
He nodded. “Okay. But if you don’t help me understand, I’ll fail you.”
I agreed that I would do my best to answer his concerns. We set one week later after class to talk again.
As I drove home, I pondered the difference between Dr. Caldon and Dr. Jensen. Dr. Caldon was negative about my beliefs and mocked them much as Korihor did with Alma. In Alma 30, Alma tried to explain to Korihor that an understanding of God does not come through signs. However, Korihor still said, “Except ye show me a sign, I will not believe.” [1] And we all know how well that turned out for Korihor.
Dr. Jensen, on the other hand, seemed more like the Lamanites that Ammon and his brethren went to teach. They were not asking for a sign, but for understanding of something they had never been taught. The old Lamanite king had never known of God, but when Aaron taught him, he was open-minded to learn. “And Aaron answered him and said unto him: Believest thou that there is a God? And the king said: . . . if now thou sayest there is a God, behold I will believe.” [2]
But how was I to academically explain an understanding of God to someone with no spiritual background?
I went home that night and told Donna what had happened. “He’s not trying to be mean,” I said. “He’s really sincere and wants to know. And you remember how kind he was to us at that party when we were first here.” I asked her what she thought I should do to answer Dr. Jensen.
“Pray about it,” she replied.
I sarcastically thought, “Thanks for the help,” but that’s exactly what I needed to do.
That was a Thursday, and when the weekend came, I fasted and prayed to know what to do. That Sunday morning, I had an unusual experience. Donna and I went to church, and she went in ahead of me to take our oldest daughter down to the nursery. I followed minutes later, carrying our baby and the diaper bag.
But everything was strange. Usually, the foyer would be full of people visiting, but this time, there was only one old gentleman there. I looked at my watch, and it was the usual time when the foyer should be bustling with people. My first thought was that it must be stake conference week and we were missing it.
As I stood there, feeling somewhat confused, the old man walked over to me and asked, “You’re a mathematician, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“I have something you need to read,” he said and handed me a paper.
He then turned and walked away. I looked at the paper, and it was a talk by President Dallin H. Oaks called, “In the Lord’s Way,” which I assume he had given at BYU when he had been president there.
In the talk, President Oaks said that there are things we learn in the ways of science and there are things we learn in the ways of God. To learn the things of science, we propose a hypothesis and test it, then adjust as necessary and test again. But to learn the things of God, we must do it in God’s way: faith, humility, prayer, obedience to commandments, repentance, good works, and scripture study. Neither understanding can be fully realized by only using the opposite method.
Speaking of learning by reason and by faith, President Oaks said, “Both are necessary. Reason comes first, so it can serve as a threshold check on authenticity. True revelation has the last and decisive word on the things of God, for ‘no man knoweth of [God’s] ways save it be revealed unto him.’” [3]
I thought a lot about the ideas from Elder Oaks’ talk and realized it was the answer I needed. I reread it multiple times. When the next Thursday came, Dr. Jensen let class out early—like nine o’clock—and invited me down to his office. When we got there, he sat in his chair, leaned back, and said, “Well?”
“David,” I said, “this is one of the hardest things I have ever done because you might not have experienced anything like what I’m going to try to explain. But I will do my best.”
I then shared with him the ideas from the talk by President Oaks about gaining knowledge in science versus learning in God’s way.
When I finished, I said, “Basically, David, it boils down to this. There are things I know with my mind because I have proven them with logic. But there are things I know with at least the same certainty with my heart because I have proven them in God’s way, and I do know them.”
Dr. Jensen leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for some time, deep in thought. Finally, he nodded and said, “That makes a lot of sense. My father was an atheist, as was my grandfather, and I have never sought to find God because I was taught that He doesn’t exist. But it makes sense that if He does exist, a person would have to find Him in a different way.”
A reporter once said that certitude is the enemy of religion. In reply to this, President Gordon B. Hinckley said: “Certitude, which I define as complete and total assurance, is not the enemy of religion. It is of its very essence. Certitude is certainty. It is conviction. It is the power of faith that approaches knowledge—yes, that even becomes knowledge.” [4]
Through the experience with Dr. Jensen, I realized that intellect alone can never be a basis for a real testimony. Over the years, I have seen some of my friends try to prove the gospel academically by pure intellect. They have never succeeded. In fact, most of the time, they have fallen away from the Church.
I realize that a person never will be able to prove the gospel by intellect alone. The reason is that one of the main purposes we have for being here on earth is to live by faith. Elder Derek A. Cuthbert said, “Being away from the presence of God for a while, we learn to walk by faith and develop qualities which will eventually qualify us to return to our heavenly home as resurrected beings.” [5]
For that reason, if we try to prove the gospel by science and reasoning alone, we will always hit holes that we can’t fill. And God, as our loving Father, will not fill in all the holes because He knows how important it is for us to live by faith and trust Him.
One time, I had a young scholar express an interest in visiting with me about where the lands of the Book of Mormon might be. He said he’d share his view first, then I could share mine. I listened to him, but when he finished, and it was my turn, he basically said that he knew if I said anything that disagreed with him it would just cause an argument. He then walked away.
I was very annoyed. But I felt the Spirit tell me there was something for me to learn from this. When I finally humbled myself enough to listen, I felt the Spirit’s direction. He said, “Does it really matter where Zarahemla was, or is it more important where you are in relationship with your Savior? What matters is what spiritual insights the Book of Mormon can teach you.”
As I pondered this, I thought about how many different views I have heard for the location of the lands of the Book of Mormon, and I wondered why God doesn’t just reveal it. As I had this thought, I felt the Spirit say, “God’s people do not need a Mecca to travel to, to distract them from the true spiritual journey they should be making in their lives. They need to concentrate on what and who they should be worshipping. It doesn’t matter how close you are to a location where a spiritual event occurred. What matters is how close you are to your Savior. “
I served my mission in Rochester, New York, and I love the Sacred Grove. I have taught there, felt the Spirit there, and love to go there. But what really matters is the Spirit I feel as I try to bring my life in line with that of my Savior, no matter the location where I happen to be physically.
I am always amazed at the youth of this Church. Many students articulated these same ideas so very well in the devotional discussion board comments this week.
My brothers and sisters, we are at an amazing, unique place. We not only have the opportunity to learn the wonderful things from science and the knowledge of men, but we can also share truths of God revealed through prophets and apostles. My challenge to us is, while we are here, that we take time to learn the truths of God in God’s way, and gain, as President Hinckley said, “the power of faith that approaches knowledge—yes, that even becomes knowledge.”
Doctrine and Covenants 88 tells us to learn by both means: “Seek learning, even by study and also by faith.” [6]
It is good to study academically, but it is essential to couple it with learning in God’s way. There have been many times the Spirit has used my academic learning, coupled with prayer and scripture study, to teach me spiritual concepts.
My brothers and sisters, I know the gospel is true. I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet and through him, Jesus Christ restored His gospel to the earth. I know that the Book of Mormon is the word of God, scripture for our day, translated by God’s power. I know we have a prophet and apostles on the earth today, and I am grateful to live in a day and age when that is true. I know that God is our Father and that He loves us. I know that Jesus Christ is our Savior, and through Him we can return to the presence of our Father, not just as individuals, but as families. I look forward to the day that I can shake the hand of the Prophet Joseph and thank him for the work he has done and fall on my knees at the feet my Savior in gratitude for the gift He has given us. But as Bruce R. McConkie said in his final testimony, I don’t think I will know any more then than I know now, [7] that these things are true because I have proven them in God’s way, and I know them. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
Notes
[1] Alma 30:48.
[2] Alma 22:7.
[3] Dallin H. Oaks, The Lord’s Way, Deseret Book, 1991.
[4] Gordon B. Hinckley, “Faith, the Essence of True Religion,” Ensign, Nov. 1981.
[5] Derek A. Cuthbert, “What’s the Difference,” Ensign, Nov. 1985.
[6] Doctrine and Covenants 88:118.
[7] See Bruce R. McConkie, “The Purifying Power of Gethsemane,” Ensign, May 1985.