Bryan Gentry is a writer whose work has appeared in university publications, magazines and newspapers for more than 20 years. Originally from North Carolina, he served a mission in Nevada and California before earning an English degree at Southern Virginia University. He is a member of Heterodox Academy, an organization that promotes viewpoint diversity and constructive disagreement in higher education, and he contributes to Discourse Magazine on topics of political polarization. He now lives in South Carolina with his wife and their three children. He works as a college communications director and serves as a counselor in his Elder’s Quorum presidency.
Enter Bryan…
I faked being sick one day in sixth grade because I was scared to ask my parents to sign my report card, which was due back that day. For the first time in my life, I had Ds and Cs where I normally made perfect grades. Lying in bed that morning, I might have pondered dropping out of school and running away.
But when my dad stayed home that morning to work on a project, I remembered that he had always talked about making low grades throughout school. He even joked about being clueless when he first learned algebra, the same subject causing some of my sixth-grade woes. I realized I could go to him to confess my low grades and my lie about being sick.
He listened carefully and without judgment. He told me that he loved me no matter my grades, encouraged me to keep trying, signed my report card, and drove me to school with a note saying I was feeling better — which was true.
Vulnerability – The Ability to Be Wounded
That was my first lesson about the power of vulnerability. My dad’s honesty about his school struggles had made me feel less alone. Rather than run away or fake sick forever, I spoke up about my problem and got the help that I needed. In our church service, we can encourage vulnerability to help people connect with each other and with Christ.
The word “vulnerability” comes from Latin words that literally mean “the ability to be wounded.” It means dropping pretensions of invincibility and living as one who can be hurt. Think about Limhi’s people (Mosiah 20:24-26) who marched toward the Lamanites without weapons, trusting the Lamanite king to call off the battle.
Like them, sometimes we need to lay down our weapons in order to truly connect with others. The researcher Brene Brown has said,
“In order for connection to happen, we have to allow ourselves to be seen, really seen.”
But vulnerability can be difficult in the Church when some of our teachings and so much of our culture revolve around strength and invincibility. The shield of faith is supposed to make us “able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked” (Ephesians 6:16). The iron rod is supposed to prevent “the temptations and the fiery darts of the adversary” from overpowering us. We are supposed to “fear no evil.” I’ve heard Church members imply, or directly say, that if someone feels depressed, afraid, confused or doubtful that it is all due to sin — they’ve taken off the armor of God. Meanwhile, if you search for General Conference talks that mention “vulnerable” or “vulnerability,” essentially every single one carries a negative connotation about becoming vulnerable to Satan and sin.
No One is Invincible
There is truth to that assessment. Many of our problems are caused by, or related to, a lack of faith or failing to look consistently toward God. But sometimes even righteous people are sad, discouraged, or afraid. Too much focus on strength and invincibility tempts us to hide our weaknesses and trials, limiting how much true connection we have. It can even cause people to stay away from church because they think it is only for the invincible.
Over the past decade or so, Church leaders have demonstrated a new embrace of vulnerability, although their teachings continue to warn against making ourselves vulnerable to temptation or false teaching. They have modeled how we can be vulnerable to each other — how to drop the pretense of invincibility and strength so that we can strengthen each other as we come unto Christ.
Examples of Vulnerability: Mental Illness
President Jeffrey R. Holland spoke about mental illness in his 2013 General Conference talk “Like a Broken Vessel.” He taught that anxiety, depression and other mental illnesses “are some of the realities of mortal life, and there should be no … shame in acknowledging them.”
He acknowledged that “no one can responsibly suggest [depression] would surely go away if those victims would just square their shoulders and think more positively.” And he referred to a time in his own life when he took “a psychic blow” as a young father. His talk demonstrated vulnerability and encouraged us to be more open about emotional challenges rather than hide them behind a facade.
In 2019, Sister Reyna Aburto continued that theme in her talk “Through Cloud and Sunshine, Lord, Abide With Me.” She spoke about mental illness faced by her daughter and a friend, both of whom had felt they needed to hide any sadness. She spoke about how it had taken her years to work through grief after her father’s suicide. Sister Aburto said:
“When we open up about our emotional challenges, admitting we are not perfect, we give others permission to share their struggles. Together we realize there is hope and we do not have to suffer alone.”
Examples of Vulnerability: Testimony and Church Activity
In 2015, Elder Brent H. Nielsen of the Seventy shared his family’s personal experience with having a family member leave the Church only to return later. I remember tears in my eyes as I listened to that talk because most stories of this kind shared from the pulpit had been about strangers, not the siblings of general authorities. Elder Nielsen’s sharing of such an experience within his family made anyone with a similar situation feel a little less alone.
Sister Susan H. Porter shared a similar story in 2021,describing how a family member “stepped away from the Church” due to unresolved questions. After nearly 20 years, the relative returned to church thanks to the love shown by friends who had listened to his questions about the gospel. This was not a case of everything working perfectly — he still had unanswered questions, but he also felt the Holy Ghost teach him that “not having clear answers should not stop him from moving forward.”
Sister Porter’s story teaches us that it’s okay to participate fully in church even when we have unanswered questions. More recent talks took this to a completely new level.
The October 2025 General Conference included at least two talks by speakers who shared personal faith crises. Sister J. Annette Dennis described a time when depression overtook her and she “no longer knew if there was a God,” and she mainly went to church because she was afraid of other people’s judgment.
Then Elder Peter M. Johnson described how he was shaken when he learned (while serving a mission) that his race would have disqualified him from priesthood ordination. The loving, patient response of his mission companion helped him finally turn to the scriptures for a witness that renewed his testimony.
I was stunned to hear these stories of testimony challenges, but I also was grateful. I felt less alone. Like Sister Dennis, I had been through a time when my testimony seemed to have evaporated. Like Elder Johnson, I’ve wrestled with some aspects of Church history. Our culture prizes “Trophy Testimonies” that you can hoist up during testimony meeting saying, “I know,” leaving doubts and challenges buried in the basement archives. Hearing general leaders of the Church express their personal testimony challenges reminds us that a testimony doesn’t have to be polished and perfect in order to be worth our while.
Vulnerability and Christ
Other examples abound: Elder Peter F. Meurs shared how he had caused a car accident and carried a burden of guilt for years.
Elder Eduardo Gavarret admitted to having skipped church to play a soccer game.
President Russell M. Nelson even confessed that as a new surgical intern he had not paid tithing on his $15 per month income until his wife had corrected him. He explained that this was where he gained his testimony of tithing.
I am certain that there were similar examples earlier in Church history, but stories displaying vulnerability seem to have become much more common in the Church in recent years.
We can follow the examples of these general officers of the Church in our service in Church callings. I don’t mean to say we don’t need a filter at all. Not all experiences are to be shared with all audiences. Some challenges may need to stay private until they are resolved. We should avoid sharing stories that implicate other people’s reputations. Testimony challenges should not be shared in a way that invites “rehearsing [our doubts] with other doubters,” to borrow a phrase from President Nelson. But at the very least we can become more honest about the fact that we are not invincible. We can acknowledge that any strength we can demonstrate is ultimately rooted in Christ.
Like Ammon, we can say,
“I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God” (Alma 26:12).
The Throne of Grace
We also can remember that the greatest example of vulnerability — the ability to be wounded — is Jesus Christ, who condescended to our level and was “wounded for our transgressions” (Isaiah 53:5). He suffered all the pains and sicknesses we experience so that he could be “in all points tempted like as we are” and “be touched with the feeling of our infirmities.”
His vulnerability motivates us to “come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need” (Hebrews 4:15-16). When we bare our vulnerability in order to connect with each other, we are following the Savior’s example, too.
