If you clicked on this article because of the title, you might already be feeling a little defensive. Perhaps you’re preparing to argue that religion has done more good than harm. Perhaps you’re among those who see religion as a source of division, oppression, and toxicity. Or perhaps you’re simply hearing the 1973 hit “Feel Like Makin’ Love” playing in your head.
The phrase bad religion can sound like an attack on faith itself. It isn’t.
While I think some modern criticisms of religion are overstated, critics often identify real problems that deserve careful consideration. C.S. Lewis once observed that “badness is only spoiled goodness.” Evil is rarely something entirely separate from the good; more often it is a good thing twisted, distorted, or turned inward upon itself.
Religion is no exception.
My purpose is not to persuade anyone to abandon religion, nor to defend every religious institution. Rather, I want to explore how something intended to draw people toward God, neighbor, and love can become disconnected from its purpose. When that happens, religion becomes what Lewis might call “goodness spoiled.”
Rather than beginning with my own opinions, I want to begin with Jesus.
This may come as a surprise, but Jesus spoke frequently about bad religion. In fact, some of his sharpest words were directed not toward the irreligious, but toward the deeply religious. He criticized religious leaders who loved status more than service, purity more than compassion, certainty more than humility, and rules more than people.
Jesus was not anti-religion. He attended synagogue, observed holy days, quoted scripture, and participated in the religious life of his people. Yet he relentlessly confronted forms of religion that obscured rather than revealed the heart of God.
His critiques were not aimed merely at the Pharisees of the first century. They are mirrors held up to every generation—including our own.
The question is not whether religion is good or bad.
The question is whether our religion is accomplishing what God intended it to accomplish.
Matthew 6 — When Religion becomes a performance
That question becomes especially clear when Jesus speaks in the Sermon on the Mount, particularly in Matthew 6.
Here Jesus repeatedly warns:
“When you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets.”
“When you pray, do not be like the hypocrites.”
“When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites do.”
At first glance, these instructions can sound like a critique of hypocrisy as double living—saying one thing and doing another. And that is certainly part of it. Jesus is opposed to duplicity. But his concern runs deeper than moral inconsistency.
The Greek word translated as hypocrite originally referred to an actor on a stage—someone performing a role before an audience.
The problem Jesus confronts is not merely that a person is pretending to be righteous when they are not. It is that religion itself can become a performance.
And that is the key image Jesus is working with throughout Matthew 6.
Notice what he is criticizing. Giving, praying, and fasting are not the problem. In fact, Jesus assumes his disciples will continue practicing all of them. The issue is what these practices become when an audience is introduced.
They become performance.
Religious activity subtly becomes a way of constructing a story about ourselves. We pray so we can feel spiritual. We serve so we can feel righteous. We sacrifice so we can reassure ourselves that we are among the faithful.
Religion becomes an exercise in self-justification.
This is why Jesus repeatedly directs his followers toward secrecy: pray in secret, give in secret, fast in secret. Not because hiddenness is inherently superior, but because secrecy removes the audience. And when the audience is removed, something uncomfortable happens—we are forced to confront why we are doing these things at all.
Jesus is not attacking religion. He is attempting to rescue it.
Religious practices are meant to shape us, nourish us, and orient us toward God. They are medicine, not merit badges.
Bad religion begins when the practice becomes the point—when prayer becomes proof rather than communion, worship becomes signaling rather than gratitude, and obedience becomes evidence rather than transformation.
The deepest danger is not unbelief. It is the quiet temptation to use God in service of ourselves.
When Religion Becomes an Ego Story
Once that pattern becomes visible, it raises a deeper question: why does religion so easily become a performance in the first place?
Perhaps the answer is not only found in individual pride, but in the way the story is framed from the beginning.
Many religious traditions begin with a narrative centered on human deficiency. Humanity has disobeyed. We have become separated from God. The world becomes a place of testing and purification, where we must demonstrate readiness to return to divine presence.
Whether explicit or implicit, the message often becomes: you are not presently fit for God. Religion exists to make you acceptable again.
Once this becomes the controlling narrative, the ego project is almost perfectly assembled.
The question shifts from, “How do I participate in the life of God?” to, “How do I become worthy of God?”
One begins with belonging. The other begins with deficiency.
And if our deepest problem is defined as unworthiness, then nearly every religious practice becomes vulnerable to distortion. Prayer becomes evidence. Obedience becomes evidence. Belief becomes evidence. Worship becomes evidence. Service becomes evidence.
The purpose of religion is no longer transformation but certification.
We become actors again—performing not only before others, but before God and even ourselves—trying to secure a verdict that we are acceptable after all.
Jesus, however, consistently moves in the opposite direction: not toward performance, but toward relationship; not toward qualification, but toward participation in the life of God.
And perhaps the deepest irony is this: the very attempt to become worthy of God often becomes what prevents us from recognizing that worthiness was never the starting question in the first place.
If God has to be convinced of our worth, then we may already be worshiping the wrong version of God.
Wheat & Tares 
The question of sons or servants arises here.
Bad Religion is also an awesome Punk band from Los Angeles, California:
https://shipsofhagoth.com/2024/12/on-bad-religions-christmas-songs/
Like JB, I came for the punk rock! Bad Religion (not bad company, sorry Todd) and their somewhat topical and very satirical tune American Jesus, about how America is Jesus’ favorite
This is a wonderful post that raises important issues.
As indicated, Jesus did participate in the religious community of his day, but he was very much a revolutionary. He deliberately challenged absurd practices that focused on meaningless superstitions. He deliberately went against those superstitions in order to show that helping others was what actually matters.
Jesus would not have excluded worshipers from the temple because they had too many earrings or drank green tea. He would have excluded those who went out of their way to hurt the poor and other disadvantaged groups.
That is where religion has gone “bad” in a sense. Far too much time is spent policing hemlines and shirt color. Every moment spent on this, to say nothing of cleaning chapels for free, is a moment that is not spent on helping the poor.
Performative Christianity is such a salient topic currently, and I’m glad someone’s addressing it! Well said! To me, this has always been Jesus’ core message–if you do your good works to be seen by other people, you have your reward. Also, not everything done in the name of Christianity qualifies as a good work. I’m incredibly turned off by people wearing their religion on their sleeve, and even more now that so much of it is bleeding into non-religious areas of life (government, schools, even businesses). It’s become a costume almost. It’s the opposite of what Jesus taught.
Working to change a long tradition of bad religion is the theme of Good Omens tv series. It strikingly points out the many absurdities in most religious traditions, with lots of good humor.
A bond between the archangel and the demon effectively rejects the rigid tribal binary and shows how love and personal connection transcends corrupt institutional systems.
It’s delightful to watch- again!
Loudly Sublime, I keep recommending BBC radio adaptations.. Good Omens is another great radio drama available as a BBC audiobook, adapted from the novel by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchet. I really enjoyed it.
On religion as performance, I enjoy Anglican liturgy. I love the intricacy of ecclesiastical embroidery. And my favorite choral music often comes from that written for a Mass, especially a Requiem Mass.
Like JB and Charles, I came expecting good American Punk Rock. Bad Religion is incredibly talented and original. It’s a regular on my Spotify!
Charles – thanks for the catch, that error is on me. I’m going to leave it though and enjoy “American Jesus”.
Ji – I’d love to hear a bit more how you think about the differences or dangers between “sons and servants”
Hawkgrrrl and JCS -I think the performative religion problem has many origins, but one of them is a basic human need to matter. That’s a deeply rooted instinct and left unchecked it can become the driving force behind almost everything we do. The irony is that religion often doesn’t expose that ego game—it accommodates it. Instead of helping us see how our need to matter can consume us, it says, “We can solve that for you.” To be clear, I don’t think the desire to matter is something we should eliminate. It’s part of being human. But when the story centers on worthiness, the focus naturally turns inward. Am I enough? Am I worthy? Am I different? That isn’t a storyline that naturally flows outward toward love and service.
As Latter-day Saints, I think we often reinforce this way of thinking every Sunday. We can easily hear the sacrament prayers as a kind of remedial exchange: I promise to do these things, and in return God promises me His Spirit. While I don’t think that’s the intent of the ordinance, it’s often how the relationship is experienced. The biblical covenant, however, seems to point in a different direction. From the beginning, humanity was called to bear God’s image—to become a living reflection of the One who is not physically present. The covenant wasn’t primarily about securing God’s favor; it was about becoming a faithful “throughline” through which God’s goodness entered the world. Seen this way, Jesus didn’t merely fulfill a list of commandments. He fulfilled the covenant itself by becoming the human being Israel—and ultimately all humanity—had failed to be. Where we turned covenant into a bargaining tool centered on worthiness and performance, Jesus embodied a life that perfectly reflected the Father’s love outward into the world. That shift changes everything. The question is no longer, “Have I done enough to deserve God’s presence?” but “How can my life become a reflection of God’s presence for others?”
Growing up, I constantly heard that we were to be a “peculiar people”—that we should be different from the world. But I think Jesus is pointing us toward something much deeper. The greater human calling isn’t simply to matter; it’s to make a difference. Those are very different stories. That’s why I think performative religion isn’t just an unfortunate byproduct. It often grows naturally out of the plot we’re given. If the central question is whether I measure up, then performance becomes almost inevitable.
One of the reasons I appreciate Jeff Strong’s Torn—limitations and all—is that he’s trying to take responsibility for the institution’s side of the street. Someone asked why he focused on church culture instead of the broader cultural forces surrounding it. His response was that he wanted to focus on his circle of influence, not his circle of concern. In other words, rather than shifting blame to the culture at large, he wanted to ask what unhealthy patterns the Church itself may have contributed. That strikes me as a healthy posture. The broader culture certainly shapes us, but it’s also worth asking whether we’ve developed forms of “bad religion” that unintentionally keep people trapped in the very ego story Jesus came to free us from.
LoudlySublime – I’m going to have to tune into Good Omens.
“The question shifts from, ‘How do I participate in the life of God?’ to, ‘How do I become worthy of God?’”
Love this. And I would love it if Christianity and Mormonism could focus less on purity and more on connection and belonging.
However! The focus on worthiness, purity, and even performance comes from the Bible itself. As with many other topics, the Bible is giving competing instructions.
The same Jesus that says not to pray before others also says to “let your light so shine among men that they may see your good works.” Then you’ve got Paul telling the Thessalonians to “abstain from all appearance of evil” and telling the Corinthians to “be separate.” Jesus says “Be ye therefore perfect” and the Book of Mormon takes it further and says “No unclean thing can dwell with God.”
The scriptures contain the blueprints for both good religion and bad religion.
So it becomes a question of, as Dan McClellan would say, “negotiating with the text” and jettisoning, reframing, or downplaying the parts you don’t agree with. Everyone must do this by definition. And for many of us these contradictions call into question whether the Texts have any actual authority at all when it comes to trying to use them as the basis for living a moral life.
The term “virtue signal” is a term I had not heard until a few years ago. Oh how I wish I had grown up with that term in my head because it perfectly explains at least 51% of the content of every fast and testimony meeting I have attended. The performance factor was a real one and we’d all secretly mock certain members of the wards we grew up in but what we really needed was that phrase to describe what was going on.
Kirkstall—to your point, or perhaps Dan’s, about “negotiating with the text”: I agree. I don’t see any way to read scripture and conclude that it represents the highest ethical vision humanity is capable of. If that’s true, then scripture has to be read differently—not as an unequivocal owner’s manual, but as an exercise in developing discernment. It is the story of individuals and civilizations struggling to make God manifest in the world. We can’t read these texts uncritically, assuming they simply tell us who the “good guys” and the “bad guys” are. If we do, we’ll continue projecting the world’s problems onto “the other” rather than allowing the text to expose them within ourselves.
Josh – I have a love/hate relationship with testimony meetings. I think the virtue signaling is the effect of understanding what the group demands for belonging. We want to belong, so we speak the words the group loves to hear. I also think our testimony meetings render people more a “juror” than a “witness”. If we follow the script, we are declaring a verdict, rather than sharing actual firsthand personal experience.
Todd S: I’ve heard it put this way before. It’s absolutely possible to be a good Mormon without being a good person. I would probably also add that it’s almost impossible to be a good person if you put being a good Mormon first.
That depends on what you believe it takes to be a good “Mormon.”
Todd, I’m waiting for a train from Kyiv to Lviv and I don’t have any scriptures open, but I am reminded that our scriptures speak consistently about becoming sons and daughters of God, compared to our current teaching of already being and always having been children of God. I think we have lost something by changing the scripture emphasis on becoming to already and always.
And, like others, I think we have lost something by focusing on constant worthiness and continual performance (not that there’s anything wrong with those), instead of focusing on the relationship. Paul reminds us that we are sons, not servants – there is a fundamental difference, and sadly we seem to act and teach others in our culture that we are servants hoping for a place. A son’s place in the household and his inheritance are secure, but a servant must prove himself every day in hopes of retaining his station – in other words, a son is in a relationship but a servant is in a performance or transactional arrangement. God loves us because we have willingly chosen to become his sons and daughters – and his love for us is covenantal and relationship, not performance and transactional.
The word “family” in English has only recently acquired the meaning of parents and children. Until the 16th or maybe 17th century a family included servants and slaves. True in Latin also and other ancient societies. The word “family” entered Middle English in the 15th century from the Latin “familia,” which referred to a household, including servants. This Latin root derives from “famulus,” meaning “servant” or “slave”. We are all part of God’s family, and through Christ we are given the power to becomes sons of God. This doesn’t exclude women. Women could not inherit anciently. To become a son is to become an heir, one who could inherit. Paul makes it clear that God makes no distinction between male/female, white/black, bond/free, but there is a distinction between son (legal status, not sex) and servant. Adoption allowed a family member to become a son and heir. And the great promise to the faithful is to become heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ. Abraham, when he had no sons, regretted that a servant, Eleizer, would be his heir. Abraham wanted a son to inherit, not a servant (Gen 15:2), and through Christ all believers can become sons (and heirs) of God (John 1:12).
So, we’re not children of God and not part of his family. Is that your point, Georgis? We’re servants until he adopts us back? Or we’re, like, his children but then he disowns us and then he adopts us back in some cases? Not a heavenly father, or heavenly parents? That’s not literal? Or literal doesn’t really matter? Like we are their children, but that doesn’t matter? So really, the church should be telling people, “The deal is that we are all servants or slaves, see. But our master loves us. And so we can inherit everything if we’re good and blah blah blah. Then they will call us their children even though we are called their children during that process in most instances and we are supposed to call them parents and actually they really love that title the most, but you’re not part of the family yet, but your older brother was The Man, but he’s not your brother either. So, you feel that love? It’s the best and you can have it forever if you listen to us and to the master and do exactly what we say. In fact, that’s the only way you can be happy, and the first step is realizing your parents disowned you, see?”
Brian, Is your harshness to Georgis misplaced? If you will read your scriptures, you will see that a central theme through both ancient and modern scripture is becoming a son or daughter of God – the notion of already and always a son or daughter of God is an innovation not grounded in our scripture or modern revelation, but it is supported by a song. Similarly, the notion of heavenly parents (Heavenly Father plus multiple Heavenly Mothers) is also an innovation not grounded in our scripture or modern revelation. Both notions have place in the rich tapestry of Mormon thought, but that doesn’t make them doctrinally true or necessary.
Ji, Is your comment here purposely obtuse? I mean, you can aruge that we are children of heavenly parents is new, sure. Especially if you want to discount the Pearl of Great Price as modern. But to argue that it isn’t part of moden relevation? Spare us, please your faux humilty and understanding. I could immediatley point you (and I imagine you could too if you weren’t more interested in defending your position in a triggered manner) to a trove of statements by modern (meaning post-restoration) prophets on the subject. Just do a quick serach on “LDS Heavenly Parents” and then return and report. I mean, what the heck are you even arguing? Your beef isn’t with me, but with modern prophets.
Brian, the idea of becoming a son or child of God permeates the BoM and the D&C. Some examples:
Mosiah 5:7, …for ye say that your hearts are changed through faith on his name; therefore, ye are born of him and have become his sons and his daughters.
3 Nephi 9:17, And as many as have received me, to them have I given to become the sons of God…
Ether 3:14, …Behold, I am Jesus Christ. I am the Father and the Son. In me shall all mankind have life, and that eternally, even they who shall believe on my name; and they shall become my sons and my daughters.
Moroni 7:26, And after that he came men also were saved by faith in his name; and by faith, they become the sons of God.
Moroni 7:48, Wherefore, my beloved brethren, pray unto the Father with all the energy of heart… that ye may become the sons of God…
The Doctrine and Covenants teaches the same thing about becoming sons and daughters.
D&C 11:30, But verily, verily, I say unto you, that as many as receive me, to them will I give power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on my name.
D&C 34:3, Who so loved the world that he gave his own life, that as many as would believe might become the sons of God.
D&C 35:2, …as will believe on my name, that they may become the sons of God, even one in me as I am one in the Father, as the Father is one in me, that we may be one.
D&C 39:4, But to as many as received me, gave I power to become my sons; and even so will I give unto as many as will receive me, power to become my sons.
D&C 42:52, And they who have not faith to do these things, but believe in me, have power to become my sons; and inasmuch as they break not my laws thou shalt bear their infirmities.
D&C 45:8, …unto as many as received me gave I power to do many miracles, and to become the sons of God…
I don’t agree that our Father disowned us: your words. I never denied that our Father isn’t the father of our spirits, but that fatherhood doesn’t save us. John 3:16: because God loved us so much, he sent Jesus to save, not to condemn. The fatherhood that matters for salvation is our becoming a son or a daughter through Christ, and no longer being a servant. The good news is that each of us, individually, can become a son or daughter, and an heir, and this is very good news.
You guys, have me wrong. I’ve never said anything against becoming. That you keep pushing that line shows how uncomfortable you are addressing the rhetorical problems posed by your initial comment about families. I get all the scriptures you point out. Can you at least address the fact there are serious problems with claiming that family to God means servants and slaves and that modem revelation also says we are God’s children that complicates the readings you are pointing out? Don’t think this is that complicated.
Brian, I agree that modern prophets have said some things about heavenly mothers, but I’ll have to rely on you to show me where they have cited or claimed revelation for those beliefs. I haven’t read or been pointed to that revelation. I think perhaps their beliefs are based on culture and upbringing rather than scripture or revelation, and I am okay with that.
Anyway, inasmuch as we’re talking about bad religion, are you providing an example? I can feel your zeal for your belief, and your passion that your belief is the only legitimate belief, but I haven’t felt much charity. I recommend the old maxim, “in essentials, unity; in non-essentials, liberty; in all things, charity.”
Ji, you’re talking past the point. Sure, heavenly mother questions exist. Care to address the main point? Are you truly arguing that we aren’t children of heavenly parents or that such as notion isn’t supported by modern revelation? Or are you just looking for rhetorical wins where you can get them and to show off you calm, collected, rational charity to hide the prevarications? This is getting tedious.
Georgis & ji,
I think we are (or become) sons and daughters in both senses that are being spoken of here. I agree that the scriptures tend to speak of becoming a son through the gospel covenant–that is, more than they speak about our being the literal offspring of heavenly parents. But we have to remember the problem of dispensationalism–a good problem I might add. It isn’t until we get to the Book of Abraham that we get more than just wisps of the doctrine of premortal life in the scriptures. And so, as a latecomer the doctrine of premortal life has created a new category of “sons and daughters” that is different than the other more scripturally prolific category–and it’s only natural that there should be confusion at times between the two of them.
Brian, if you will read what I wrote, you will see that I spoke of followers of Christ as having become sons and daughters of God, no longer servants, in response to the original posting’s wondering about a performance environment or a relationship environment. Speaking of sons, I also noted that while our scriptures (ancient and modern) speak consistently about becoming sons and daughters of God, our current culture seems to teach that we already are and always have been children of God. I think we have lost something by changing the scripture emphasis on becoming to already and always.
I also acknowledged in a previous comment the presence of the notion of heavenly mothers in the rich tapestry of Mormon thought, but that notion, while precious to some Latter-day Saints, might be cultural as it is not based on scripture or revelation. I do not believe it is necessary for a Latter-day Saint in good standing to endorse the idea of heavenly mothers.
Jo, this is still tedium, but at least we’re getting somewhere. You wrote earlier, “Similarly, the notion of heavenly parents (Heavenly Father plus multiple Heavenly Mothers) is also an innovation not grounded in our scripture or modern revelation. Both notions have place in the rich tapestry of Mormon thought, but that doesn’t make them doctrinally true or necessary.”
So, if I take out the “mother” part (which you are quite hung up on) so that it reads, Similarly, the notion of heavenly parents . . . is also an innovation not grounded in our scripture or modern revelation,” do you still stand by that? Because that’s what I’m addressing; and modern revelation is replete with that teaching whether you find it ‘necessary’ or not does not interest me. Again, your beef is with modern revelation that we have heavenly parents, not with me.
Brian, As far as I can tell, the notion of heavenly parents (Heavenly Father plus multiple Heavenly Mothers, unless you’re allowing for same-sex parents?) is indeed an innovation that is not grounded in scripture or revelation. The notion has been surmised, but has not been revealed. God has not spoken on this topic.
I don’t know what modern revelation you are talking about. As I wrote earlier, I’ll have to rely on you to show me the cited or claimed revelation. I haven’t read or been pointed to the revelation (I don’t see general authority talks at Saturday evening stake conference sessions or even general conference as revelation; rather, I see those as good faith efforts by good men, even holy men, to be helpful) – if a speaker doesn’t claim revelation, I am loath to impute it. I think perhaps their beliefs are based on culture and upbringing rather than scripture or revelation, and I am okay with that.
I do not believe it is necessary for a Latter-day Saint in good standing to endorse the idea of heavenly mothers. I do not understand why my thoughts bother you so much, but this thread is about bad religion, so maybe your approach is apt and appropriate within this thread.
I think I am many hours ahead of you, and nightfall has already come here. You may have the last word, but I hope you will read what I have actually written and not put words in my mouth, so to speak. I re-recommend the old maxim, “in essentials, unity; in non-essentials, liberty; in all things, charity.” We’re in the realm of non-essentials, so in the spirit of the OP and avoiding bad religion, I hope for liberty and charity here at W&T.
Ji, search “LDS leaders on Heavenly Mother.” You are making a distinction without a difference between revelation and practical doctrine as taught by the FP and Q12. You are sounding like Denver Snuffer. Have fun with that. You’re the one who is caught up on this, not me. Get off the mother thing. You still won’t claim that we are children of God. Cool. Whatever. You can be mad that church leaders have changed focus. I don’t care that you’re so mad and hung up on the idea. I care that you won’t acknowledge what is plain as day all over church teachings, websites, etc. But clearly you are right and they are wrong. I don’t actually care about that either. But that you deny they are saying what they are saying is ludicrous and reveals much more about you than me. Hope you sleep well.
I want to take a detour, based off of skimming some of the comments here. I haven’t read all the comments. Sorry, but one thing I wanted to document is that in traditional Christianity (and this kind of comes through in some LDS scripture because a lot of the LDS distinctive doctrines hadn’t been defined until after our written scriptures were written – in other words, we have learned to reread our scripture because of doctrines that developed after they were published), there is definitely a categorical divide between humanity. The Divine is what is uncreated, and by definition there’s not a whole lot of persons that fit that definition. The Christian impulse is to say that the only persons who fit that are God the Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost.
Everything else is created and all of humanity is created and therefore is categorically distinct from God.
(Obviously, this is not something that Mormon can really appreciate because in Mormonism, we are pretty much the same species as God, just a little less developed, a little further behind. It’s a difference in quality, not a difference of kind.)
So when the Bible talks about humans becoming sons of God, it is because there’s this understanding that there is this vast categorical divide between us and God. And we must be adopted into sonship because we do not have a genetic relationship.
I don’t know if I would quite put it as the level of servant versus son. But my insight when I understood what traditional Christianity was trying to tell me was to think that the gap between humanity and God and traditional Christianity felt more akin to the gap between humans and their pets. We may love Fido very much, and Fido may even be part of family, but he will never be the same as we are.
This is an imprecise analogy, however. Because when they say that humans are created in the image of God, obviously there are very different interpretations of what this means for traditional Christianity versus Mormonism. But the idea is that there is something about us that is much more malleable than is the divide between pets and humans. We may not be able to become uncreated beings, but through our ability to reason, our rational souls, there is something that we can do that makes us able to become like God.
So I think that this relationship, this partial (but never complete per traditional Christianity) bridging of the divide, of becoming more like sons rather than pets, does still capture something about what we are supposed to do. Obviously, a pet satisfies what his master wants by being perfectly obedient, but the pet never ever deigns to be any more than that. However, in the traditional Christian model (and I understand again that Mormonism is making a more radical claim), but in the traditional Christian model to be adopted into sonship is to say that you can do more than just obey. And I think that this mesh as well with what Todd is saying about relationship.
Actually, I’m gonna scratch that. The pet also doesn’t have to earn the owner’s affection, right? And so that’s why I think that there’s also scriptures that describe that various other creatures in the created order don’t seem to have the same hang-ups that we do, right? “consider the lilies”, right?
So part of what makes humanity different is that our rational soul also can be distorted in such a way that we create some unique hang-ups that are only possible because we have this heightened capacity. And that is something that we must learn to kind of overcome, to not be preoccupied with trying to earn our way or trying to “become” worthy.
As a sincere question to Ji and Georgis. When the apostles and prophet say God is “our father” or or ” our loving father” we are “his children” or “all God’s children”, what do they mean if not that we are God’s children? Ji, do you read that all as them being mistaken?
Brian, to answer your question.
Q. When the apostles and prophet say God is “our father” or [] ” our loving father” we are “his children” or “all God’s children”, what do they mean if not that we are God’s children?
A. They mean exactly what they say, because God is the Father of spirits (Hebrews 12:9). But that relationship (which applies to all people) isn’t the relationship that saves. He loves us more than we can comprehend, so much that that He sent His Son to earth to save those who will believe on Him (John 3:16-17). Believing in Christ is the only way to become a son or daughter (and heir) in the way that actually saves. Please don’t get angry with me for mentioning adoption. Paul discussed our being redeemed through Christ to “receive the adoption of sons,” and it is he who told us through Christ we are no longer “a servant, but a son; and if a son, then an heir of God through Christ” (see Galatians 4:1-7). Paul also shared this idea with the saints in Rome: “And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together” (Romans 8:17). Who are God’s children? Paul answered that question three verses earlier: “For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God” (v. 14). Without Christ, we are as servants in the household. With and through Christ we “have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father” (v. 15). I’ve never written that God isn’t our father.
Why does it matter? A servant can be sent away at any time if he ever messes up. A son, however, can mess up (sin) and he does not lose his inheritance. A son is in a special relationship with the father, by covenant, obligations, and love; there is forgiveness for transgression, and patience in times of trial. A servant, however, might remain only as long as he performs satisfactorily. That relationship is transactional. Christ offers us the power to become sons and to leave the status of servant. At least this is how I read these verses. That is a wonderful thing.
Maybe bad religion reinforces the transactional relationship: do this or that, or get fired (don’t inherit). Maybe good religion reinforces the covenantal relationship: I love you, I have redeemed you, and you are mine, even if and when you err. He is mighty to save, and His grace is sufficient even though I am weak. Imagine if we loved one another more, and chided one another less, each focusing on his own internal instead of focusing on the neighbor’s external. I think that is where the OP was going, and I think that makes good sense.
Out on this end.
I understand your logic, Georgis, and have never questioned your logic as to how you view saving, adoption, etc. I’m just pointing out the practical problematic rhetorical nature of what you are saying. I just think that focusing on God as the master and us as the servants or slaves (as per your original post, which is where this started) is way more complicated and physiologically damaging than focusing on us as children who are trying to become better. Your analogy makes it transactional, not mine. I actually find mine more beautiful and hopeful and helpful, but clearly YMMV.
Brian, if you’re asking would I rather that we (a) teach truth from canonized scripture, especially things that are oft repeated in many different books, or (b) teach smooth sayings that please people’s modern ears, then I choose the former. Jesus had something to say about sons and servants. “And the servant abideth not in the house for ever: but the Son abideth ever” (John 8:35). The KJV capitalizes Son, but other translations do not. The ESV has “The slave does not remain in the house forever; the son remains forever,” and NASB has “Now the slave does not remain in the house forever; the son does remain forever,” and the NIV has “Now a slave has no permanent place in the family, but a son belongs to it forever.” We should be helping our people to become sons and daughters, and therefore heirs, lest they remain as servants. To fail to teach this might be to do disservice to the people, and that would be real harm. Teaching that we’re children trying to become better is nice, but is that what the NT, BoM, and D&C teach?
It is a beautiful message that all people, whether male or female, white or black, bond or free, living or dead, can equally become a son or daughter of God, and therefore an heir with Christ. I do not see this teaching as complicated or physiologically damaging. Even if we set aside Paul’s servant/son, adoption, and heir analogy as offensive to modern sensibilities, we should still probably teach about becoming sons and daughters, and therefore heirs. Most people won’t strive to become what they think they already are.
Todd S, in your original posting you wrote,
”Jesus, however, consistently moves in the opposite direction: not toward performance, but toward relationship; not toward qualification, but toward participation in the life of God.
”And perhaps the deepest irony is this: the very attempt to become worthy of God often becomes what prevents us from recognizing that worthiness was never the starting question in the first place.”
Centuries ago, Paul encouraged his readers to fully become sons of God, and he straight-up asked whether followers of Christ were (a) sons or (b) servants? I suppose some followers in Paul’s day were focusing on qualification and worthiness, rather than relationship, much like you are wondering about today. Like you, Paul wanted his readers to stop thinking of themselves as servants, with a focus on qualification and worthiness, and instead to fully become sons (or daughters, I think). You asked me to elaborate on sons versus servants, and I have to point back to Paul. I agree with the OP thesis that a focus on qualification and worthiness makes for bad religion.
I thought you were done, Georgis, but cool, welcome back. That you set the entire dialogue up as an either or is evidence enough I need of how you operate. I agreed that you have an argument. You can’t accept modern discourse on the topic. Not my problem. I’m not advocating for soothsaying. Holy hell. Do you advocate for everything in the New Testament or that Jesus sor Paul said? Actually you don’t. When you can have a real conversation about scriptures and modem revelation and limits of revelation and God speaking to man according to his understanding, I’m here. Otherwise, good luck, man. But you’re trying to impose an antiquated system unto people who don’t have servants and inheritance that resembles anything like those times. That doesn’t help people. Go ahead tell people they are servants and slaves and xyz, but I don’t hear that in conference and neither do you. Soothsaying my ass. We are God’s children with the potential to become like him, is what I here. If you have a problem with that, take it up with the people saying it.
Georgis,
“would I rather that we (a) teach truth from canonized scripture, especially things that are oft repeated in many different books, or (b) teach smooth sayings that please people’s modern earsI rather that we (a) teach truth from canonized scripture”
That’s a distinction without a difference. I think Dan McClellan rightly points out that text has no inherent meaning to it. We make the meaning. There is no abstract truth from so called canonized scripture. In fact, the word “canonized” is doing a lot of heavy lifting for you because I think you also take that word to mean “authoritative” as well. Text only has as much authority as we give it, it has no inherent authority in and of itself. So when you say “truth from canonized scriptures” what you’re really saying is “interpretation and meaning your modern self has extracted from the text in your context”. And those things please your modern ears and give you the warm and fuzzies necessary to keep moving forward in life with confidence.
It’s really interesting to learn about the textual history of how we came to receive what we call the Bible today. Contrary to popular belief, a committee didn’t select the canon. Instead, church leaders put together lists of texts the community already felt were authoritative or meaningful. That list has changed over the centuries. For example, we’ve inherited some text that makes the assumption that the books of Enoch are still accepted, but the Enoch books went out of favor a couple hundred years after Jesus yet reliant texts didn’t. Unfortunately, the book of Revelation didn’t quite get chopped off like it should have been and instead continues to do harm to this day–not for a lack of effort from people like Martin Luther and others to get rid of it. Look at the Doctrine and Covenants. The “Doctrine” part (i.e. Lectures on Faith) got decanonized.
That all being said, in my opinion, scripture should invite us into conversation and contemplation, but it never has been nor ever will be the authoritative decider of either. And I think that’s a good thing, because it helps us rip out so many bad assumptions we’ve made about things that come from scripture. A previous commenter mentioned Paul’s “abstain from all appearance of evil”. That passage is a terrible translation and has taken on a life of its own in modern Christianity independent of what the original text says–which is simply “avoid doing evil” and not the burdensome “don’t watch that movie or drink that tea or say that thing because someone might construe that as evil”–a performance, tying it back to the OP. The KJV and other translations have softened “slave” to “servant” in many spots. In Luke, for example, the KJV goes so far as to change “bond slave” to “handmaid”. I don’t think Mary’s response (Luke 1:38) would be quite so appealing to us if we let the text say what it actually says–which is “slave”. Take the BoM of passage, “it is by grace we are saved after all we can do”. This is probably is the single most influential passage that solidifies “works” in the LDS church, yet how it became to be popularly interpreted changed overtime from the idea it was originally trying to transmit–again more research done by Dan McClellan to highlight this issue.
In light of all this, I find the choice between son and servant (well, rather slave if we are to honor the Biblical text a bit more) to be a false dichotomy. It is language forever trapped in ancient paradigms where there really were no other options for someone. Personally, I will take option C, none of the above–at this point in my life. I don’t believe the constant and insistent rhetoric that God loves us more than we can imagine. If that is really true, I don’t think we are remotely on the same planet for what “love” means. If LDS theology is to be believed, I don’t want to become a god and I’m not really interested in serving a god that remains absent. I don’t buy the Christ atonement logic anymore. It feels like the plan of salvation is more like a trust fall game where God is trying to show off and has convinced us to play, but ends up only truly catching some few elite favorites and letting the rest of us go. And I guess I choose not to play any longer. When inheritance or reward or whatever you call it is the whole point, we really are just wrapped up in one big transaction. Call it the covenant path or carrot dangling (i.e. eternal families) or whatever you like to make yourself feel better about it, but it really is just transactional. And that to me just seems like bad religion. And I appreciate Todd’s efforts (and others) to turn this on its head.
Andrew S—In addition, traditional Christianity often interprets the partaking of the fruit in the garden as an act of usurpation—an attempt to “become like God.” In that reading, the guarding of the Tree of Life prevents humanity from completing that rebellion. One could argue that this, too, reflects a form of “bad religion,” depending on whether one sees the aspiration to become like God as inherently blasphemous.
It also raises an interesting psychological question: Is it healthier to think of ourselves as underdeveloped divine beings, as you put it, whose destiny is to grow into God’s likeness? Or as beloved creatures—something like pets undergoing a kind of metamorphosis—who may eventually be called “sons” and “daughters” but never fully share in the divine nature?
There is also some fascinating scholarship surrounding the original Hebrew of Genesis 1 and the ways certain translation choices into English have narrowed what was originally a richer, more expansive text. Some scholars argue that these choices have reinforced particular theological frameworks rather than preserving the full range of meanings present in the Hebrew.
“Jesus, however, consistently moves in the opposite direction: not toward performance, but toward relationship; not toward qualification, but toward participation in the life of God.
“And perhaps the deepest irony is this: the very attempt to become worthy of God often becomes what prevents us from recognizing that worthiness was never the starting question in the first place.
“If God has to be convinced of our worth, then we may already be worshiping the wrong version of God.”
YES, YES, YES! THANK YOU FOR THIS POST!