I tell you all the time it shouldn’t matter what others think of you, and I really mean it. But I struggle with it, too. I don’t need to feel understood by the bishop, or the neighbors, or even my siblings. But it matters to me that you understand me. I don’t mind if you think I’m wrong, but I want you to know the real reasons your dad doesn’t come to priesthood with you. Then, even if a neighbor or a friend pities you for having an apostate dad, I’ll know you know why.

It’s been a while since I surprised you with a letter.

But the thing that really motivated me to pull this together is that I can’t ignore my job, as your dad, to help you find your own way through complicated issues when I can. When I was in the middle of making sense of these ideas for myself, I really freaked out. It sucked for me, and it sucked for Mom. I spent a lot of sleepless nights wishing someone had just told me the truth when I was younger.

My dad died before I found a way to have these conversations with him, but I would love to ask how much of this stuff he knew, and why he didn’t tell me. Now that your upper lip is getting all fuzzy and stuff, I sit awake at night wondering if I am setting you up for a similar struggle. I can’t ignore the feeling that I am.

So, instead of waiting quietly for you to bump into these ideas on your own, I present you with The Long Letter. The Long Letter might be a brilliant stroke of parenting, or it might be a terrible mistake. The Long Letter might inspire you to read a big stack of books, or it might be more than you really care to know. Maybe you’ll never finish reading it. Maybe it will mean the world to you. Maybe you’ll only keep it because it reminds you of your old man. (A few gray whiskers — thank you for pointing those out — do not an old man make.) Like anything in life, I can’t be sure how any of this will turn out, but I am certain that these ideas matter enough to talk about.

“They think I don’t know a buttload of crap about the gospel. But I do.”

But first, let’s talk about those things you can see on the internet. There is a whole buttload of crap out there about church history, doctrine, politics, finances, culture, ceremony, any topic you could possibly imagine. If anything in this letter makes you curious enough to learn more from our friend Google, remember my favorite word: Why? Ask why. Why did they write this? Why does that make people angry? Why do I feel myself resisting this idea? Why is a shortcut to wisdom.

Asking why will help you approach every source critically. Reading an article on the official Church website? Ask your own questions and seek your own answers. Watching a YouTube video from a former member? Don’t shut down the skeptical part of your brain just because you’re listening to a skeptic.

“If you would be a real seeker after truth,

it is necessary that at least once in your life

you doubt, as far as possible, all things.” — René Descartes

Doubt all things. Doubt your religion. Doubt your doubt. Doubt your faith. Doubt this letter. But never confuse doubt with fear. Fear tells you there’s no way to know. Fear tells you to draw lines between us and other. Doubt teaches you to be curious and trust your inner voice. Doubt inspires a sense of wonder. Doubt is where true confidence begins.

Of course, true confidence doesn’t usually mean being loud. In our culture, talking about the topics in The Long Letter would be a bit like farting in public — something you might get away with when you’re with people you love, but not a great idea at church or in an elevator full of strangers. And it’s certainly never something you should force people to endure just so you can show off and make a little noise. Believing in the Church makes a lot of people genuinely happy, and taking the joy out of another person’s Mormon experience is far less satisfying than your ego might lead you to expect. So fart carefully, my son, no matter what you decide.

Keep in mind that plenty of people know every bit as much as I do about our history, doctrine, and culture, and they still love the Church more than you love Peanut M&Ms. They believe a different story than the one you hear on Sundays, maybe, but it’s a legitimate belief system that brings meaning and happiness to their world. It doesn’t work for me, but it might easily work for you. I think that’s a decision you deserve to make for yourself, and one you can’t make well until you have more information.