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“I envy you your faith, somedays,” an agnostic friend in college once remarked as we ate lunch in the spring sunshine. “I wish I could have faith.”

“You can, you know. Faith is a choice,” I urged with perhaps a touch too much missionary zeal. “In the Book of Mormon there’s a famous sermon about how faith is like a science experiment. If you even have just a ‘desire to believe,” and choose to act on that desire, you’ll feel God’s love, and see results.”

“But logic is too deeply engrained in me for that to work,” he responded. “I’d just dismiss any positive feeling as a weird firing of brain chemicals, a manufactured emotional manipulation. It’s not tangible or real.”

“What if you had conclusive proof God was real? Would you believe then?”

“I don’t think conclusive proof of God is possible – isn’t that the point of belief? Of God being God?”

“Well, ok. Let’s pretend that right now, an angel appeared in front of us and proclaimed that God was real. What would you do?”

“An angel? I’d roll my eyes and dismiss it as a college prank.”

“Not this one. She’d materialize like Scotty had beamed her down, hover eight feet off the ground, and radiate blinding light. And everyone else around us would see her too.”

“Hmmm. Well … uh, honestly, I’d have an existential crisis. I’d question whether everything I knew about the world was wrong. I’d spend three days freaking out. Maybe even a week. And then … honestly, I’d probably either mentally file the experience under ‘that was weird’ or choose to believe it didn’t happen.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because if it did happen, if I actually saw an angel, if God actually is real, then I would need to fundamentally alter my worldview and my behavior. That would require an overwhelming amount of work. It’s easier to not believe.”

* * *

It’s easier to not believe.

I’ve often mused on my friend’s refreshing honesty and self-reflection, in the decade since that spring conversation.

Invariably at Church, whenever we discuss Laman and Lemuel (or the Pharisees, or any number of scriptural antagonists) someone marvels about how could these idiots have persisted in disobeying God, even after seeing such indisputable signs and miracles. I always comment that their reactions are exactly what we as humans should expect. There’s a reason that Saul and Alma dramatic repentance stories are so notable, and so rare. My college friend had touched on the answer. It’s easier to not believe, because belief requires action.

This is not just a religious phenomenon. It’s one inherent to the human experience. We watch it play out in Congress and in the courts and in corporations, each and every day. A shooting or sexual assault or fraud occurs, but nothing spurs action. Outrage endures for a night, but skepticism and silence comes in the morning. Whatever happened was a fluke, a hoax, an exaggerated one-off, against an unsympathetic victim. We scramble for justifications and minimizations. At most the incident warrants flowers and prayers, maybe a few mild corrections of minor mistakes, not systemic analysis of structural problems. It’s easier to not believe, because belief requires action.

It’s a dynamic that also plays out personally, in my own life and in the lives of my friends. Something terrible happens at work or in the community or within a family, but we’re all too close to the nuanced reality to apply healthy perspective to the facts. You hear it all the time — It’s not that bad; I’m overreacting; everyone goes through this; their positive contributions override their foibles; they’re a good person and must not have intended to cause harm; this is all an isolated mistake – I’ll ignore the problem and it will go away. It’s easier to not believe, because belief requires action.

***

When I study the Gospel of Jesus Christ, this theme is pervasive. God calls us to first believe – and then to do the difficult, soul-searching work of converting that belief into action. It’s the entire point of the Book of James.

The poor are always with us – so we must succor them.

The sick are always with us – so we must heal them.

The orphaned are always with us – so we must befriend them.

The suffering are always with us – so we must mourn with them.

The sinners are always with us – so we must extend both appropriate justice, and abundant grace.

Institutional failures are always with us – so we must recognize and correct them.

There is more tragedy and pain in the world than we will ever be able to solve. Christ who bore all our burdens knows that more perfectly than anyone. And yet, Christ calls us to try anyway. We, as individuals and a society, must engage in self-reflection. We, as individuals and a society, must strive to be more perfect. We, as individuals and a society, must endlessly repent.

Why? Because we believe in Christ. And belief requires action.