The water in the baptismal font ripples as my eight-year-old son steps down the stairs, beaming with excitement. His white clothing seems to glow, and I can see my own childhood reflection in his eyes. As his father, I'm about to baptize him into what we believe is God's ONE TRUE church on Earth. It should be one of the proudest moments of my life.

But beneath my smile, questions churn like the disturbed water. In his eyes, I see pure faith - the kind that moves mountains and parts seas. In my heart, I feel the weight of generations of belief, and the crushing responsibility of either preserving or disrupting that legacy.

I'm Brother Buzz, and this is "Study Faith With AI".

After the kids were in bed on Easter Sunday 2020, my pregnant wife and I sat together as Andrea Bocelli's voice filled our living room. The famous tenor stood alone in Milan outside the magnificent Duomo Cathedral, singing "Amazing Grace" to an empty plaza. The haunting melody echoed as pictures of empty city centers popped onto the screen: Paris, London, New York, Mexico City, Cape Town . . . it was like the world we knew had died and there we were at the funeral.

As we held hands listening to Bocelli, the significance of COVID-19’s lockdown which began weeks before was blatantly obvious. This would not last weeks, but months - maybe years.

"Grace," my wife whispered, squeezing my hand. "We need that more than ever now."

I nodded, feeling the weight of what was coming. Our third child would arrive in weeks, entering a world transformed by pandemic. The hospitals were implementing strict protocols. Birth plans were being rewritten. And beneath it all, the gnawing certainty that this was going to be tough.

But Mormonism trains you to be self-sufficient. Savings. Food storage. Sewing. Homemaking. And lots of wholesome, family fun and adventure. We spent our days doing homeschool, making music, and hiking trails. We spent our nights in Family Home Evening, game night, and movie nights. 

Sunday mornings transformed most dramatically. Instead of the familiar rush—hurrying children into uncomfortable clothes, frantically searching for missing shoes, racing to claim our usual pew before the opening hymn—we now moved at a gentler pace. I'd put on the Mormon Tabernacle Choir while the kids got into their Sunday outfits, then we’d gather in the living room for Church over Zoom. 

At home, we’d raise our hand to the square to sustain Church leaders, sing hymns, and listen to talks. When it was time for the sacrament each week, I’d play a hymn on the piano then my wife would lead our kids, arms - folded, to the kitchen table while I got the bread and water. I then knelt week after week, Triple Combination in hand, and blessed the bread and water in the name of Jesus Christ - “that they may always have his spirit to be with them, Amen”. 

I never expected to find such peace in those moments. After decades of 2 or 3 hour blocks, leadership callings, and cultural immersion, the sudden shift to home worship brought an unexpected revelation — we are enough.

Weeks became months, then months became years. While most returned to the chapel as soon as possible, we chose to keep worshipping at home. We prioritized our toddlers’ health and as for worshiping God - I felt like “if it’s not broke, don’t fix it”. Sundays were happy and peaceful. As the pandemic stretched on, our family gathered around that small table, singing hymns, reading scriptures, sharing thoughts. My children seemed more engaged than they ever had been on the hard chapel benches. Without the constant glances at watches, without the social pressure, without the endless meetings before and after the block, Sundays had become... peaceful.

When we eventually returned to in-person worship, I found myself at the Primary piano—my "dream calling" alongside my wife, the Primary music leader. Our three children were all in Primary now, the perfect arrangement.

As my fingers moved across familiar keys, 30 bright young faces sang with unwavering conviction: "Book of Mormon Stories.” "Follow the Prophet." "I Love to See the Temple."

As I played, I listened to the full-throated voices of children singing of love, Jesus, and Joseph Smith. We were back! Back to where families gather to put the next generation onto the covenant path. Back to where stories of prophets, gold plates, visions in groves of trees, and crossing plains with handcarts are passed down to children like heirlooms. Back to where Jesus Christ is worshipped, but rarely spoken about. 

Among those singing voices were my wife and children, joining in “Follow the Prophet” in the same way I did as a child decades before. 

And suddenly, without warning, thoughts formed that I couldn't easily dismiss: “Something’s not right here. What has my experience taught me? And what do I really, truly believe?”

When you're sitting at the piano in Primary, playing the notes to songs about absolute certainty while your own heart harbors growing doubts, something has to give. With so much at stake, I began researching in depth - which quickly grew to become “Study Faith with AI”. 

In Season 10 of Study Faith with AI, we'll explore Challenges. Challenges that we may have overlooked. It will be a catch-all for aspects of Mormon beliefs and culture that have personally challenged me: from doctrine, to history, to culture. We’ll explore how real-world experience and our perceptions influence how we feel about the Church and our desire to stay. 

The questions that emerged during our COVID isolation—watching Bocelli sing to empty pews, blessing the sacrament at our kitchen table, hearing my children's innocent prayers for a world they barely understood—deserve honest exploration. Not to destroy faith, but to refine it. Not to tear down, but to understand what truly remains when the institutional scaffolding is temporarily removed and returned.

Because sometimes our greatest spiritual revelations come not from moments of certainty, but from seasons of questioning. Sometimes the most profound truths emerge not when we're singing in unison with a congregation, but when we're sitting alone at a piano, fingers hovering over keys, wondering which notes will follow.

I'm Brother Buzz, and this is Season 10 of Study Faith with AI: Challenges.

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