(Guest Post)
What do we actually worship? I’ve been stuck on that question, and a talk President Oaks gave to new mission presidents this year is the reason. Every year around this time, they gather at the MTC for special instruction from top church leaders—whatever gets said that week becomes the script these men carry for the next three years. I was in the MTC for it in 2004, close enough to meet leaders I’d only ever seen on a broadcast from another state. This year, Oaks handed them 3 characteristics of the “only true and living” church.
- The Church of Jesus Christ has the fulness of his doctrine
- The Church of Jesus Christ has His priesthood authority
- The Church of Jesus Christ has a ‘unique testimony of Christ’
Pres. Oaks remarked on each of these, and I want to reference some of those comments. But I’ll preface all of it with a question: what do we actually worship?
I have a sister who attends divinity school for fun and personal enrichment, and one of the ideas she’s shared with me from her time there has stuck. She says we often worship our idea of a thing rather than the thing itself. We build a careful picture of what something is—what makes it special, what sets it apart, what we have that others lack—and then we end up bowing to the picture. The distinction sounds subtle, but here’s the tell: the more energy we pour into distinguishing and characterizing a thing, the more we’re worshipping our characterization of it, not the thing. We’re loving the boundary we drew, not what’s inside it. Hold onto that idea, because I think it’s exactly what’s happening across all three of Oaks’s points.
In talking about fulness of doctrine, Pres. Oaks mentions:
- Other churches have some truth, but the underlying message is they are wrong
- We lost things during a supposed apostasy
- We came to earth to get eternally married, which can only happen between a man and a woman
- Have children so this cycle perpetuates ad infinitum
- Marriage is required for exaltation—something distinctly different from salvation
- The restored gospel is “comprehensive, universal, merciful and true”
- “Kingdoms of glory” after we are resurrected
So apparently a fulness is eternal marriage and a top tier of heaven reserved for the heterosexually married. Everyone else is just “saved,” but to a lower kingdom. I don’t see how this is comprehensive and universal, but we’ll move on. Notice what the whole list is actually made of: boundaries. What we have that others don’t, what was lost that only we recovered, who’s in and who’s on a lower tier. None of it is a description of Jesus. All of it is a description of a distinction.
Pres. Oaks goes on to priesthood authority—”Priesthood offices and its authority do not come from a desire to serve or from reading the scriptures. That priesthood authority, together with the keys necessary to direct its operations, are in this restored Church and no other.” Again, a distinction. The church has special power that others do not. And again, that’s an idea about the institution, not a moment spent with the man.
His last point: “We have a unique and true testimony of Christ. This is the key to everything else. Our knowledge of the nature of God is what distinguishes us from the formal creeds of other Christian denominations.” Here’s what’s strange about resting your whole claim on distinguishing knowledge of the nature of God: that knowledge kept changing. God’s nature shifted substantially across Joseph Smith’s life, and in the King Follett discourse near the end of it, he taught that God was once a man as we are now—a real departure from the church’s own earlier teaching. Joseph, I believe, was signaling more change was coming when his life ended abruptly. John Turner’s Joseph Smith biography emphasizes that Joseph was constantly innovating and evolving theologically. This happened in part because members of the church had tough existential questions and he wanted to provide equally sound theological propositions in response to provide comfort. I think it’s safe to say that had Joseph lived longer, the church’s conception of the nature of God would have further evolved. As such, this one distinctive thing Pres. Oaks supposes we hold so firmly was, in fact, never stable, unmoving ground. I mean, we still don’t have a Heavenly Mother to speak of–even though we want to have one. I think if she were fully revealed and incorporated we’d, again, have to remake our understanding of the nature of God, the Godhead and priesthood office/authority.
Pres. Oaks makes it clear: “We are not grounded in the wisdom of the world or the philosophies of men, however traditional or respected they may be. Our testimony of Jesus Christ is based on the revelations of God to His prophets and to us individually.” Meaning we still are 100% reliant on the philosophies of men—we are just very choosy about the men, and we choose the right men, unlike other churches. It’s infallibility dressed up in nice clothes.
So where is the actual worship of Jesus, the person, in any of this?
We are mired in ideas. Ideas that make us distinct, ideas that make us special, ideas that give us control, ideas that give us power. Ideas, and not Jesus, are what we’ve made the center of our worship. This is exactly what my sister was describing—we’ve built a picture of the church, careful and flattering and set apart, and we bow to the picture. Members sometimes get agitated that other Christian denominations don’t consider the LDS church Christian. “Jesus Christ” is in the name, right? Yet instruction in the church is far more focused on “The Church” part of the name than anything else in it. The “Jesus Christ” part is often just a tool or in service of “The Church” part, not the other way around.
When I read the Jesus of the gospels now, I can’t help but think the LDS church has, over time, reinvented him into someone who barely resembles the man on the page. That man didn’t seem to care about fulness, priesthood authority, or unique testimonies—that was added later by the LDS church, by “revelation.” He healed a man on the Sabbath and got attacked for breaking the rule, and his answer was that the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath. When they dragged a woman caught in adultery in front of him with the law demanding she be stoned, he ignored the letter of it and sent her accusers away. When institutional doctrine was harmful to the people it was meant to serve, Jesus seemed completely fine casting it aside or reframing it until it helped living people again. Doctrine was never his centerpiece—people were, real living people. It seems to me that Jesus’ name is invoked mostly to serve the power and credibility of the institution, to control its members, rather than to actually strengthen the lives of people. Which makes me wonder if we ever worshipped the man, or only what he could do for the institution.
What do you think? Do we worship Jesus the person, or have doctrine and truth claims become the center of worship? Is it even possible to worship Jesus, the person, or are we only ever choosing the Jesus we want to worship? What would a truly Christ-centered institution look like? Is institutional revelation a lever of control, or one that truly seeks to better the lives of people seeking after it?
Wheat & Tares 
Interesting question. The members worship the tradition. It is a tradition that gives them a feeling of certainty about true doctrine and a bunch of different Christian churches that have only half answers and parts of the truth, so the LDS are taught. It is a tradition that makes them feel pure amid a filthy “world” with all of its porn, abortion, and gay marriage.
As to the question of the Mormon Jesus being a means to a figure of worship and not the object of worship itself, yes. But the other churches are no different. Those who attend “non-denominational” churches are worshipping a traditional American Evangelical Protestant understanding of Jesus influenced by Arminianism with heavy emphasis on free will and a free gift of grace. Structurally, the non-denominationals emphasize independent governance and sola scriptura. But that in and of itself is a tradition and a denomination. There is no Christianity just straight from the Bible nor has there ever been. The Bible has lent itself to hundreds of different interpretations since its finalized compilation. To make sense of it requires relying on someone else’s interpretation of it. To have a relationship with Jesus is only through someone else’s interpretation of the Bible. Perhaps you arrive at your own interpretation and become a Bible guru yourself, with your own followers. But that would be an understanding of the Bible that couldn’t come without being colored by other influences.
After being raised in the church and being an avid reader, I still do not understand what “fullness of the gospel” really means. If it means following what Jesus Christ taught in the New Testament, why is the church foreever focusing on rules and topics that were never addressed by Christ and that the institution will change with each generation. We all know of the LDS problems and contradictions. Is the term “complete gospel” a front to mask all the problems? The LDS does not have insider knowledge that other religions are missing. In fact Joseph Smith borrowed many of the ideas from others.
Let me breify examine the OP bullet points one at a time.
The Church of Jesus Christ has the fulness of his doctrine…then why does it keep changing and need on going revelation? How is it complete?
The Church of Jesus Christ has His priesthood authority……..and then what is it used for? Is is really blessing people in their individual lives? Or is it a power structure to stronghold obedience? (Not the way I would hope Christ would respond and lead). Even if someone were a certified master mechanic/doctor/etc, what good is the certified diploma without putting it to real use and only hanging it on the wall and giving speeches about the degree?
The Church of Jesus Christ has a ‘unique testimony of Christ’…….really? It is definitely unique fron the New Testament I read.
I just saw on reddit that it is obvious where the LDS church priority is? What is the only annual mandatory meeting for all members ? Tithing settlement. Why not have meetings about someone’s wellbeing, only. Why do none of the temple questions ask about love, charity or kindness?
If the LDS practiced the fullness of the “gospel of Jesus Christ”, they are still waiting for the ongoing revelation for the part about love your neighbor, and not hoarding wealth (especially at the expense of the widow), and a humble leadership that does not esteem itself above its own members. Maybe this will be revealed in the next generation and then they would have the fullness.
Jesus Christ would not associate with this church and being the rebel that he was, he would go out and help people individually, while breaking their pharisaical rules.
It seems to me that in a way we worship temples (as opposed to worshiping Christ IN temples). We focus on their physical beauty. We claim with pride how wonderful these buildings are. We testify how no place feels as wonderful as the temple — I always wonder if it’s an “emperor has no clothes” type thing where we all say that but none of us really believe it. We proclaim that the most important step you can take in this life is to be sealed there, and then execute the other ordinances found therein. We build them even when there is no real demand. As for what takes place inside: it’s been a while for me but from what I recall (30+ years of pretty regular temple activity) there isn’t a whole lot of actual worship in the temple. Seems so strange to me and RMN doubled down on the whole idea.
We’ve seen more emphasis on Christ by the COJCOLDS in recent years in various ways. But the push for temple activity speaks volumes about what the leaders (and members I guess) really value. RMN was known for his focus on the Covenant Path more than any phrase about Christ that I can recall. And the Church is following his lead. It’s worship of the temple.
I recall reading the gospels for the first time immediately before my mission. For lack of a better way of describing my experience with them, they blew my mind. I didn’t think humans were smart enough to come up with these things. To my 18 year old mind, I can’t emphasize enough how strongly I felt that this Jesus guy was truly special. Truly God among us. Truly worthy of our worship in the literal sense of the word.
It’s hard to say when exactly it hit me, but at some point soon thereafter I realized how odd it was that this reaction, this eye opening or even revelatory experience, had just happened to someone who had been raised with the “one true Christian faith”, went to church every week, went to seminary, etc. Shouldn’t I have always felt this way?
As I got older and tried to reconcile those initial feelings of awe about Christ’s actual words in the page and the things he actually did with what I observed the church to do and emphasize, I started to see the church as being more about the administrative details of salvation and not so much about the Christ at the center of salvation.
Today I see the points raised by DHO in today’s post as being declarations of the importance of the administrative details that we seem to worship.
It’s hard to square the Jesus of the Sermon on the Mount or the Jesus hanging on the cross forgiving his killers with a church that seems more preoccupied with checking boxes and assuring itself that it holds a particular uniqueness than actually doing what Jesus said and endured.
Until we can objectively interact with God and/or Jesus we cannot worship them in the pure sense that the OP seems to long for. We are stuck with the clues we have to create a worshipable construct. Part of that construct remains the building of Zion and to do that, we all need to be on the same worshipping page (“of one mind” and such). So the Church has established its boundaries to minimize the diversity of worship. We can disagree with how they go about that, but if they were to abandon the effort altogether, it would mean the end of the pursuit of Zion and, to me, any reason to remain Mormon.
That said, Oaks trips up on at least his first two points. First, it is telling that he uses the phrase “fullness of his doctrine” instead of “fulness of the gospel.” I can reconcile the latter, but not the former. As I have explained before (at the cost of a bunch of downvotes), I consider the gospel to consist of what is covered by the “law of the gospel” in the temple ceremony. That excludes quite a lot–the “law of consecration” explicitly, but also, in my opinion, everything associated with the sealing power. “Fullness of his doctrine”, in contrast, covers all of that. Which would be fine if not for the 9th Article of Faith. “[W]e believe that He will yet reveal many great and important things pertaining to the Kingdom of God.”??? If we still believe that, then we cannot believe that we possess the fullness of his doctrine.
Second, the whole uniqueness of priesthood authority thing is circular reasoning. The question is why our priesthood authority is exclusive. Did God hold a lottery and we won? I think not. If our authority is indeed unique, there had to have been a reason that God gave it to us and not to anybody else. Points #1 and/or #3 would seem to constitute that reason, so #2 is entirely dependent on one or both of them and does not constitute a separate point on its own.
@josh h
I wouldn’t say it was entirely Emperor’s New Clothes for me. I’ve always found the celestial room to be exactly as advertised. On the other hand I’ve often felt like the changing room was almost as peaceful and spiritual as the celestial room, strangely enough. On the other hand, I found the parts of the endowment that didn’t have Satan in them to be dull and tedious and the celebrated symbolism to not be that deep or revelatory.
Guest Poster,
Respectfully, I think you’re making a category mistake. Both President Oaks and the leaders he was speaking to (generally) know who and what they worship. And if there were a big enough problem with that particular precept he (President Oaks) would have addressed it–IMO.
It’s kinda like a captain addressing some logistical problems with his ship–and a member of the crew being concerned over his failure to talk about the basic principles of sailing. They already know those things–but there are more immediate problems that need to be addressed in order to get the vessel operating properly.
So it is with the Kingdom. It’s kinda like running a household–at the center of the whole enterprise is the love that the members of the family have for each other. But be that at as it may, there are many logistical elements that need to be taken care of for the “operation” to work properly. And sometimes those seemingly less important elements need special attention–otherwise they can become a hinderance to the more important elements; a wrench in the works.
Oaks comment here: “Our knowledge of the nature of God is what distinguishes us from the formal creeds of other Christian denominations” is exactly why other Christians don’t think Mormons are Christian. Mainstream Christianity believes in the Trinity – three Gods in one. To believe that God and Christ are separate beings, and the Holy Ghost is another separate personage, is exactly why Mormons are kicked out of the Christian club. I’ve wondered before if Church leaders understand the doctrinal distinction here. I don’t know if Oaks is one of the ones who expresses puzzlement about why others don’t consider us Christians, but the LDS “knowledge of the nature of God” is exactly why other Christians don’t consider us Christians.
Focusing on the “knowledge of the nature of God” to define a Christian, rather than focusing on who is actually following the teachings of Jesus, is a good example of worshiping our idea about a thing. Worshiping Jesus should be about following his teachings. Talk about his teachings constantly; reject anything that smacks of hypocrisy; do not tolerate cruelty to the poor or the outcast; feed the hungry, and etc. Yet instead, the defining line between Christianity and Mormonism is the nature of God. Not living by Christ’s actual teachings.
This post is a good explanation of how our church, along with every other church, worships an idea about Christianity rather than focusing on obeying Christ’s teachings from his actual life. He didn’t teach about eternal families or temples. He taught about caring for other human beings, and worshiping a deity who wants you to care about other human beings.
I especially liked these sentences from the post: “Members sometimes get agitated that other Christian denominations don’t consider the LDS church Christian. “Jesus Christ” is in the name, right? Yet instruction in the church is far more focused on “The Church” part of the name than anything else in it. The “Jesus Christ” part is often just a tool or in service of “The Church” part, not the other way around.”
For six months, our bishop has assigned every speaker in Sacrament Meeting to focus their talk on the temple. To have any focus on Jesus, I listen to the SLC First Presbyterian broadcast for spiritual edification. I am deeply concerned that the Church is worshiping the temple more than Jesus. I read President Oaks’ talk because I have loved ones who are leaving to serve missions and to serve as mission presidents. I was disappointed that he focused so heavily on temple marriage while also attacking the LGBTQ community. In addition, I was sad to read some of his exclusivist talk about our church. I wonder if this rhetoric will hurt our LGBTQ missionaries and negatively impact the way mission presidents interact with them.
Here is another blog post about Oaks’ talk: https://exponentii.org/blog/reviewing-president-oaks-recent-talk-to-lds-mission-presidents/
Jack, it is precisely the assumption that “they already know those things” that is the problem. The whole church is built on an assumption that people already know and accept Jesus, so the church spends 99% of it time worshipping *the church* and not Jesus. I spent some 60 years as an active Mormon and so, I think I have some experience in what the church spends its time on. Once I used a kind of stop watch to time the topics covered in church. Sunday school, sacrament, and RS, so I got an overview of all of church. This was back about early 1970s. So, Jesus was quoted or directly talked about for 5% of the meetings. Tithing, temple, genealogy, priesthood, all were talked about at bigger percentages, especially when I counted prayers as “about Jesus” when most of the prayer time was praying for or about stuff that had nothing to do with Jesus, say praying for rain or to increase temple attendance.
Butch – great insights – I skipped Priesthood Mtg today because the Gen Conf talk was about Jesus but also repentance, covenants, temple, scripture study, ministering. Ain’t nobody got time for this checklist.
My preferred Sunday checklist is crocs, sweatpants, hot dogs from 7-11 followed by a visit to DQ, and maybe a contemplative moment with one of the mellower songs from Bon Jovi.
“That man didn’t seem to care about fulness, priesthood authority, or unique testimonies”
Are you sure? It seems that you might be engaging in some of the behavior your OP seems intended to criticize: essentially, a prooftexting of Jesus. In worshiping your own idea of Jesus, which is at odds with the ideas you criticize in the OP, instead of the actual Jesus captured in the New Testament. And I want to emphasize that me pointing this out does not mean I am arguing that church leadership is innocent of doing the same thing. Truth be told, I don’t know that any of us are able to be as pure in our worship as the OP advocates – though it is the goal for all of us.
Jesus caring about fulness of the doctrine:
Matthew 5:17-18: “Think not that I am come to destroy the law, or the prophets: I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil. For verily I say unto you, Till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled.” That sure sounds like someone that does care about laws from God…
I mean, look at verse 19: “Whosoever therefore shall break one of these least commandments, and shall teach men so, he shall be called the least in the kingdom of heaven: but whosoever shall do and teach them, the same shall be called great in the kingdom of heaven.” Look at that – “and shall teach men so” – that does not sound like someone who doesn’t care about law and doctrine.
And think about verses 27-28: not just, don’t commit adultery; but even looking and lusting is tantamount to the actual act of adultery. That sure sounds MORE stringent, not less.
Jesus caring about priesthood:
Mark 3:14-15: Jesus “ordained” the 12, giving them power to heal and cast out devils.
Matthew 16:19: Jesus giving Peter the keys of the kingdom.
John 15:16: “Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you, and ordained you” – spoken specifically to the 12.
Even assuming, for sake of argument, that these cannot be interpreted about priesthood in the specific way LDS leaders focus on it, that sure sounds like Jesus caring about WHO is authorized to do WHAT in His Kingdom on earth.
Jesus caring about unique testimonies:
The OP’s observations seem to be suggesting that this one, about a unique testimony of Christ, can’t be true because of how our understanding continues to evolve. Peter, James, and John certainly had a change in their understanding of God with their experience on the Mount of Transfiguration. But didn’t Jesus also say that he hadn’t come to change the law, but fulfill it? And wasn’t a goal of the law to point people to God? Yet Peter, James, and John certainly had a change in their understanding. Per the OP’s logic, that would suggest that Peter, James, and John really had no reason to preach – their ideas of God had changed, so why can we believe them, or believe that they had a unique testimony of God and Christ? Seems like this is the wrong focus; isn’t the real question whether someone’s experience with God can help clarify, expand, enlighten what they were already taught but in completely new ways? Like the mount of transfiguration? Like Joseph’s First Vision (cue arguments about that)? All I’m saying is, it’s poor logic to say that because Joseph’s understand of God changed over time, that it somehow meant that it invalidated the aspects about Christ that made his testimony and, by extension, Oaks’ and that of the LDS church itself, unique.
I don’t know about you, but I can certainly learn something and run with that, and still learn about it later. There’s always more about a subject that we can learn, even when we’ve learned the contours. Newtonian physics was good and true, and enabled many great things, until suddenly we learned about scenarios and contexts where Newtonian physics no longer apply, and then “higher” laws had (and have) to be figured out. Which are now finding uses – yet more is still being learned and will be learned.
I guess I’d just like to say that, from my reading of the New Testament, Jesus absolutely cared about the doctrine – the snippets above certainly suggest that. I think the issue is more about how Jesus acted with that knowledge and goal. And I could imagine that Jesus would not be pleased with the boundary policing of our day, and the feeling of pharisaical focus on outward practice in the church today. But why would that mean that the doctrine underlying it suddenly has no meaning or value? Jesus didn’t come and say, the law of Moses is wrong because the Pharisees and Sadducees have become hypocrites. He redirected people to God WITH the law, and the stories seem to suggest to me that He sought to help the people understand how to truly turn the law to its intended purposes (at least by living the law through how to approach their fellow man).
This is extremely profound and really is probably the best encapsulation of my non-attendance. Thank you.
Jack on a day that ends in y: Milk before meat. Most members are so new we have to stick with the basics. Shame on you W&T commenters for wanting meat. Got milk?
Jack on a different day that ends in y: Everyone knows the Jesus basics so we can skip them (even if we are terrible at living them). We need to keep talking about the little things like porn shoulders and paying tithing on the amount you want to earn and not questioning the leaders when the SEC fines them personally $1M and the importance of tall steeples.
What is worship? Ancients recited prayers and gave burnt offerings as worship. We have prayers. Is doing temple work for the dead worship? Taking the Sacrament? Do we need a good concept of God if we are doing these rituals?
Adam F,
I’m the guest author of this post.
You’re right, and I’ll concede: Jesus clearly cared about the law and about who was authorized to do what. I’m not claiming he was indifferent to doctrine. My claim is narrower — it’s about what sits at the center, and which direction the whole thing points.
Take your adultery example, because I think it cuts my way. Yes, he makes it more stringent, not less. But look at where he moves it: off the external act you can be caught at, onto what’s happening in a person’s heart. He takes a boundary rule — did you cross the line or not — and turns it into a question about someone’s interior life. The law doesn’t vanish; it gets reoriented toward the actual human it was supposed to serve. That’s the move I see him making again and again, and it’s a very different posture from assembling a list of things we have that others don’t.
To be clear about the actual claim: I don’t dispute that you can find Jesus caring about law and authority. I dispute that fulness, priesthood-as-we-define-it, and a unique testimony are what he put at the center. That last one is where the mismatch is sharpest, so let me spend a minute there.
Concerning testimony, you’re right that changing your mind doesn’t invalidate a testimony. If my argument were “Joseph’s understanding evolved, therefore it’s all worthless,” that’d be bad logic. But that isn’t the claim. My claim is about the specific spot Oaks chose to plant the flag. He doesn’t rest our uniqueness on the encounter with Christ, or on how we treat people — he rests it on “our knowledge of the nature of God,” and calls that the thing that distinguishes us and “the key to everything else.” And that particular content — what God actually is — is precisely the piece that got revised consistently right up until the end of JS’s life. You can’t use your most movable ground as the proof of your unmovable distinctiveness.
Your Newton analogy is the cleanest way to see it — and once you get the physics right, it lands harder my way, not softer. Newtonian mechanics wasn’t wrong and wasn’t thrown out; it’s some of the best-tested science we have, and we still use it every single day. We just discovered it’s a special case of a larger theory. It holds beautifully in its domain. So it’s true, reliable, indispensable — and, at the same time, not the complete or final account of reality. That exact combination is my whole point. Something can be genuinely true and still turn out to be a partial, domain-limited picture rather than a settled, complete, uniquely-true possession. Which is exactly why resting the “only true, distinguishing knowledge of God” claim on it is such a strange move. The very thing that makes Newton admirable — that we can now see its limits and the bigger frame around it — is what would stop any honest person from calling it the final word. You can’t have the humble, still-learning Newton posture and the settled, only-true-church posture at the same time. Pick one.
And there’s a tell in who actually describes these encounters. You point to Peter, James, and John — but notice what they eventually did with the experience. Yes, they were told to keep the transfiguration quiet, but only “until the Son of man be risen.” Afterward Peter writes it down in the open: they were eyewitnesses of his majesty, they heard the voice on the holy mount (2 Peter 1:16-18). John opens his letter insisting on exactly that — what we have seen with our eyes and handled with our hands, we declare to you (1 John 1:1-3). Joseph did the same; whatever you make of the accounts, he narrated his theophanies in vivid detail. Now compare the present. When was the last time a senior leader actually described an encounter with God? The pattern now is to assert the witness and then place it behind “too sacred to share.” I’ll grant that reticence about sacred things has real scriptural warrant in a few places — but look at the effect. A unique testimony that is only ever claimed and never shown is, from the outside, indistinguishable from just insisting we’re special. We’ve kept the claim of a unique witness and quietly lost the witnessing.
One more thing on “wasn’t a goal of the law to point people to God?” Yes. That is the standard and we should be judging the current practice by that standard. So let me ask it as a real question instead of a rhetorical one: when you sit through general conference, or stake conference, or a sacrament talk, does the law we’re being handed actually point you to God? Because what I keep hearing is checklists. Do these things, receive these blessings. Keep the covenant, get the reward. The grammar is almost always transactional — if X, then Y — and the Y is a reward, and the reward is the point. What does it actually mean to point towards God? We spend way more time on eternal families and other transactions than we ever do on transformation.
To me, a checklist doesn’t point at God, it points at me — at my performance, my progress on the path, my running tally of blessings earned. Even when the reward is exaltation itself, the sentence is still about my status, not about God. That’s the reverse of what you’re describing. And it’s the exact failure mode Jesus called out — people doing their righteousness to be seen, of whom he said “they have their reward.” The reward was the problem, not the goal. God who mostly shows up as the dispenser of rewards for completed tasks isn’t really being worshiped — he’s being used. Which is the whole thing I’ve been worried about from the start. When the practice points at the payoff, we’ve quietly made the payoff the center — the institutional version of the same swap I keep flagging: we trade the person for what he can do for us.
” We spend way more time on…transactions than we ever do on transformation.” Thank you, Chrisdrobison, this distills a huge problem down to its essence. How often have you seen a person who is all in and checking all the boxes, yet remains unchanged for the better, or who consistently experiences strained or surface relationships? Poor relationships won’t become wonderful eternal ones because you marked specific boxes on a checklist. How many families have you seen that suffer because the parents are so consumed with church service that bonds with children and other family members are weakened? Or spouses who don’t want to be together eternally because unrighteous dominion has poisoned the relationship? How many happy families have you met who are not church members who have faith they will be together in the hereafter because they have loving bonds? Is the “true nature” of God the One who would keep the unhappy yet checklisted people together over the ones who spent the time allotted them in building better relationships and character?
From my current perspective, the points emphasized in the recent mission president training is the patriarchiest of patriarchy domination structure, which is not known for developing healthy relationships and transformation.
I hope Adam and Chris don’t mind if I take the discussion about adultery in a bit of a different direction. When Jesus says lusting after a woman is adultery, he may be making the rule more strict, but only on the person with more power (the man doing the ogling). If followed, this restriction would make life easier for the person with less power (the woman being ogled). Jesus could have encouraged the women not to tempt the men with their porn shoulders, but he didn’t. This seems to be a theme of Jesus teachings; he often adminished people in power to treat others better.
Saying that the gospel is comprehensive, universal, and merciful when the covenant path doesn’t include more than 10% of people shows that Oaks has a remarkably large blind spot. It really says a lot about him.
I think we can look at Oaks personality and see what he worships. True Christian worship should start with a change of heart and the person should be striving to be more loving and Christlike. But Oaks is the personification of all that was bad in the Pharisees that Jesus criticized. He is VERY legalistic, worried about a tithe on a spice while neglecting to even have any relationship with a grandson because that grandson is not living up to his (Oaks) values. Jesus was that guy eating with sinners and touching the unclean to heal them. Oaks says the first law of Heaven is obedience, while Jesus said that the first and greatest commandment is love. Oaks says to make sure you do not violate love of God by loving your sinful neighbor. Jesus said, if you love me, feed my sheep. So, from Jesus’s perspective, you show your love of God by loving your fellowman, while Oaks says be careful not to love your fellow man too much. Oaks puts the law above other humans, while Jesus actually breaks the law to help other humans. The law is important, but Oaks seems to worship the law not just uphold or honor it. And well, he is a lawyer.
Not to give Oaks any credit, because I do not like him one bit, but in the podcast by the grandson, I understood that he (the grandson) was the one choosing not to engage with his parents or with Oaks. Did I misunderstand?
Former Nonbinary Sunbeam,
These are the Savior’s words:
“Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat: Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.”
What we have here is a course towards eternal life that is described as being rather stringent. Even so, the way is open to all who will come–and it is in that sense that it is “universal.”
I think the church worships certainty more than anything else. It’s why regardless of what doctrine changes, the church has to pretend nothing has changed. The certainty of the Apostles can’t ever be in jeopardy. Specifics about the nature of God and priesthood authority are necessary in the worship of certainty. It’s not enough to believe in a higher power but not know exactly what happens after we die. It’s not enough to be uncertain who qualifies for exaltation and who doesn’t.
The church leaders weaponize this certainty against the members. To be with their families forever in the temple, members must be certain in their beliefs and testimonies. However, if I want to know what my fate is as a woman in the next life, suddenly certainty doesn’t matter. Suddenly we must throw up our hands at the mysteries of God and focus on the “basics” of the gospel or what we “know” with a certainty.
It’s human nature to want certainty as a form of security and peace of mind. But this black and white certainty is also a hallmark of immaturity and a lack of spiritual development. I don’t mean to say that people who have strong convictions are immature. What I mean is that we must constantly be humble and recognize we will see through a glass darkly our entire lives. We do not know how the universe truly works. We have some workable hypotheses and frameworks that can be extremely useful. But we shouldn’t confuse our hypotheses and frameworks with immutable truth. We do not have the eternal perspective necessary to determine absolute truth. But we should strive for love always and to transcend the parts of human nature the are destructive to ourselves and to others.
This is why Jesus was so profound. He knew that loving our neighbor as ourselves was the great truth worth pursuing. All the laws and prophets’ teachings are secondary. The problem is the church focuses primarily on the laws and the words of the prophets. Sometimes these are in harmony with Jesus’ focus, but many times they aren’t.
Great post, chrisdrobson.
Let’s look at the word “worship.” Two or three millennia ago, when kings and emperors rules states and empires, religious “worship” made sense. You bow down to God and give Him extreme deference the same way you bow down to the king or emperor and give him deference. Everyone knew their place — anyone who didn’t bow down to the king lost his head. Anyone who offended God (or the gods, plenty of polytheism back then) or who publicly proclaimed atheism likely lost their head, too. Even in democratic free-thinking Athens, Anaxagoras was exiled for impiety (he taught that the sun and the stars were made of fire rather than being gods). Then Socrates was executed (same charge, impiety) and later Aristotle left town lest Athens sin twice against philosophy. When any disaster or defeat struck the city or the state, the explanation was always some variation on “the gods were offended because we neglected worship at their temple.”
But in the modern world, especially in secular America with free speech protections, no one loses their head for criticizing the President or proclaiming atheism. We don’t bow down to or give extreme deference to anyone — so the idea of “worship” modeled on that sort of extreme deference just doesn’t make sense. I’m inclined to say that Mormons don’t really worship anything. But we’re on the team and will put our shoulder to the wheel to do a project or support an initiative. A service project. A temple building fund. Every member a missionary. Invite a friend to church. Clean the building on Sunday. We’re not into worship. We’re into projects. We do things. We build the kingdom. Some do it wholeheartedly. Some kind of lukewarm.
Doing things — building the Kingdom — seems a lot more productive than some sort of “worship,” however defined. Would you rather associate with people who get things done, good things, or with a bunch of pious worshippers who fold their arms and proclaim their piety? Do you want hardy workers or lazy worshippers? [And yes, I’m sort of overstating the argument to make the point.]
Chris, I thoroughly enjoyed your OP and the discussion it has generated. So many good thoughts have been shared, but I keep coming back to one sentence: “we often worship our idea of a thing rather than the thing itself.”
Perhaps we could step back even further and ask what we mean by worship. For the sake of discussion, I’ll define worship simply as what we consistently pay attention to. If that’s true, your sister’s observation highlights the difference between what Martin Buber called an I-It relationship and an I-Thou relationship. Our attention can either be directed toward another as a living subject or toward an object that serves our own purposes.
Take money. We often say people worship money, but money has no inherent value. It only has the value we collectively assign to it. We don’t actually desire money for its own sake; we desire what money can obtain. Money becomes an instrument to acquire something else.
I think the same dynamic quietly slips into human relationships and even into our relationship with God.
One of the most overlooked lessons in the parable of the prodigal son is found in the elder brother. He never explicitly wishes his father dead as the younger brother effectively does by demanding his inheritance early. Yet his resentment exposes something just as revealing. His complaint is essentially, “I’ve served you all these years, and what have I gotten?” His relationship with his father has become transactional. His obedience was never an end in itself; it was an investment waiting for a return. In a sense, he too has been waiting for his father to die so he can finally receive what he believes he has earned.
I wonder if this is also what happens when we reduce God to our ideas about Him. We begin emphasizing priesthood, doctrine, covenants, ordinances, blessings, eternal rewards—even our certainty that our conception of God is the correct one—not because they draw us into relationship with God, but because they become the means by which we secure something we ultimately want for ourselves.
When our ideas become the object of our devotion, God subtly becomes the means rather than the end. We stop seeking God and begin seeking the benefits attached to God. At that point, we may still speak constantly about Christ while our attention is actually fixed on something else entirely.
Maybe the real test of worship is this: if every promised blessing disappeared, would God alone still be enough? That question seems to expose whether we love God—or merely our idea of what God can do for us.
I have always liked the older son. He did his duty and stood by his father. Yet his father never offered him a lasagne or a plate of ziti to share with friends. He was obedient and honest. I don’t think he is in the story to exemplify transactionalism or jealousy. I think he is there to represent most of us, not given to prodigious and glamorous sins, but just to the small expressions of envy and fatigue. The Father does not rebuke him. The Father loves his son and says “everything I have is yours.” The Father’s love encompasses the lost as well as the faithful. He does not turn away his face from them and gives his love even to the most underserving. That’s the lesson that is hard to swallow.
Love isn’t pie: there’s more than enough to go around.
I find it fascinating when commentators use passages of scripture to prove their point as if the scriptures were univocal. Every example cited in the comments has another contradictory passage that nullifies the former.
Christ anointed and sent out his disciples to preach and to heal. Therefore Christ cares deeply about authority.
The disciples saw another healing that was not anointed and asked Christ to stop him. Christ said he who is not against us is with us. Ergo, Christ doesn’t care about authority.
Christ made the law against adultery more strict by saying lusting was committing adultery in your heart, therefore Christ is even more strict and legalistic.
Christ forgives not one but two women guilty of adultery…Christ cares more about mercy than sin.
Christ goes to the synagogue and preaches on the sabbath, therefore keeping the sabbath is supremely important to Christ.
Christ heals and his disciples pluck Corn on the sabbath therefore Christ subordinates sabbath observance to the observer.
I could go on and on.
Perhaps the contradictions are intentional and which passages we select to “prove” our point actually say far more about ourselves and in reality “prove” who we are and what we worship.
Robert, I think you highlight that “the law” (and scripture) was always given as a guide, meaning it points to something, but is not able to define every situation that will ever occur.
Vajraz—in keeping with the idea that parables function more like koans than doctrinal sermons, I find your reading compelling. I also suspect Jesus’ original audience would have heard this story as utterly scandalous.
The elder son may indeed represent someone who has become lost in performance and merit. His reaction raises uncomfortable questions for anyone who sees themselves as righteous. Why is his faithfulness threatened by the father’s mercy? Presumably, he has lived a good life all along. Yet suddenly the quality of his own life seems to depend on his brother receiving less.
This post really helped to coalesce some of the thoughts and emotions I had regarding my past in the church.
In my family it didn’t matter that my parents were emotionally immature and didn’t know how to help their children navigate difficult moments. It didn’t matter that that we didn’t ever truly communicate with each other. It didn’t matter that my parents didn’t tell us they loved us. It didn’t matter how much we were struggling with who we wanted to be. It only mattered that on the outside we appeared to be the perfect Mormon family. That we were high achievers at school. That we “shared” our talents even in situations that made us enormously uncomfortable. That we said yes to every calling and testified of the truthfulness of the church on open mic Sunday.
My family was a small reproduction of the church as an organization.
The name on the side of the building says the Church of Jesus Christ. The claim is to have the full truth and authority to preach it. The facade is a wonderful force for good in the world. Never mind the troubling past with Joseph taking other people’s wives and daughters (who were much too young). Never mind that Brigham Young was a genocidal racist. Never mind that Jesus said “suffer the little children to come unto me,” the organization is going to do everything it can to shelter and protect those who prey upon the children. Including the brother of Todd, who was excommunicated for sexually abusing children then was later rebaptized and put into a position where he could do it again. Never mind the teaching that white skin means pure. And heaven help you if you don’t fit into the “divinely” mandated roles appointed to the gender of your birth. Pink sang “LA told me, ‘you’ll be a pop star, all you have to change is everything you are.” You can “be” whoever you want, but only on the inside. Don’t you dare date or dress according to the dictates of your self. The temple says the law of chastity is no sexual relations except with the person to whom you are legal and lawfully wed. Same-sex marriage is legal and lawful, yet is bounds for excommuncation under the law of chastity.
The church worships its own image, which just happens to have the name of Christ on the side of the building. Every person learning to “testify” on open mic Sunday learns that the first thing to testify is that the church is true. Jesus doesn’t get mentioned until later, if at all.
And Jack, let me save you the effort of responding to this: “The church is perfect, the people aren’t. Prophets won’t leave us astray. *insert vaguely relevant scripture reference here*” The church is decidedly NOT perfect. The emperor has no clothes.
Robert, it is fascinating. It goes right into my question: Is it even possible to worship Jesus, the person, or are we only ever choosing the Jesus we want to worship? Despite claims of “only true”, just like our Christian siblings in other traditions, we are engaged in the same textual renegotiation they are–yet we keep telling ourselves we aren’t.
@Jack
Remember that you’re talking to someone who would be ineligible for baptism if they were born eight years ago because of a choice they would have made before the age of accountability. That doesn’t sound very universal to me
Interesting post. I may have missed it, but I’m surprised nobody has mentioned proxy work. I’m pretty sure it’s going to take a lot more than slamming the door on the missionaries to go beyond mercy. That’s a God worth worshipping in my mind. I don’t watch a lot of Pastor Jeff, but I know in his studies of our religion he’s concluded we lean closer to universalism than total exclusivity.
Personal revelation didn’t make an appearance either. Perhaps one of the most fascinating things about this Church is the fusion of organized religion and the emphasis on personal growth and revelation. I haven’t encountered that a lot in my studies of other religions.
So in one sense, to answer your question, I worship the God that’s been revealed to me. Does this God resemble the one of the institutional LDS church? Mostly. I get the arguments that the Church just set me up for self-hypnosis or what not, or conditioned me for an experience that fits the institutional paradigm, but I find personal revelation not only plausible, but reasonable. I do owe the institution just a little credit for helping me realize the phone line existed.
I’m also fascinated by the sentiment I’ve seen more and more that our relationship with God is purely transactional. I couldn’t disagree more. I can understand this thinking, however, because I think we’ve let mainstream Christian thinking overcrowd us just a bit.
I can remember being taught in seminary, as late as the 90s, that there were certain laws that even Heavenly Father was subject to. I found that a little disturbing at first. I find it ever so much more comforting with each passing year. I suspect when we learn more deeply of justice, mercy, and the Atonement in our next estate, those “courses” might more resemble a Physics class than a Law class.
We can believe that God is a loving Heavenly Father existing in a relatively hostile universe of existing law, who is doing all in His power to give His children the greatest chance of maximizing their potential and happiness, or we can believe that God set up the Universe, including all the hostility. I find the former far more worth worshipping.
And yet, I haven’t heard a lot about this “diminished” view of God from either the Institutional church or from members since about the time I was in seminary. I think maybe it’s a conscious or unconscious move from both the church and members to appeal more to mainstream Christian adherents, but maybe we’ve done so at the cost of fully realizing just how loving our Heavenly Father and Savior really are.
I’d agree that it’s also hard to put to paper exactly how we worship, but I do think the actions we take and the work we perform for others is a large part of it.
chrisdrobison, thanks for your thoughtful response.
I think that I will just emphasize my agreement with you, that I feel like it is much more important to engage in the transformational than in seeking the transaction, as pertains to God (at least – I’m sure we could discuss transformation in terms of our relationships with each other too). And yes, it is hard to hear non-transactional talks at general conference, though I have at times experienced it. Those few talks – they come up a few times every year or two, I think – are ones that I cherish and move me. I’ve read some posts on W&T that have moved me in similar ways, and I keep those dear to my heart too.
It is frustrating to me, sometimes, to have grown up in a culture (western culture) that focuses so much on the transactional and on literalism. I feel like our western culture has this huge rut of transactional and literal thinking that we fall into by default over and over again; and it is so easy for that to obscure the transformational invitations that could be our opportunity with God.
Chris,
The claim that we have a unique understanding of the nature of God is an interesting one. But I sometimes wonder whether religion in general—including our own—has become overly captivated by knowledge as an intellectual pursuit. Too often, faith is measured by the correctness of our beliefs rather than the character those beliefs produce. In that sense, religion can become more about rightness than righteousness.
Scripture seems to offer a different test. Repeatedly, we are told, “By their fruits ye shall know them.” The evidence isn’t found primarily in theological precision but in the lives that theology produces. If the claim is that we possess a uniquely true understanding of God and Christ, then the question isn’t simply whether our doctrine is more accurate. The question is whether that understanding consistently bears better fruit.
Why does our conception of God matter?
Because our understanding of God inevitably shapes the kind of people we become. We don’t merely worship our image of God—we slowly become like it. Our deepest assumptions about God influence how we understand ourselves, how we treat others, and even what we imagine the spiritual life to be.
If I believe my Father is primarily stern, emotionally distant, conditionally loving, constantly surveilling my worthiness and waiting to reward or punish accordingly, there is a good chance I will internalize those same patterns. I’ll likely become more anxious than trusting, more judgmental than compassionate, more focused on measuring worthiness than extending grace. My theology will quietly shape my humanity.
On the other hand, if I come to know God as One whose defining characteristic is self-giving love, whose justice is restorative rather than merely punitive, whose desire is always to heal, reconcile, and transform, then those same qualities begin to take root in me. My image of God becomes the pattern for my own discipleship.
This is why I think the New Testament places such emphasis on Jesus. Our conceptions of God are hardly uniform across Scripture. They develop over time. The portrait found in portions of the Old Testament often differs significantly from what we encounter in the life and ministry of Christ.
I would argue that Jesus is not merely another messenger telling us about God—He is the revelation of God incarnate. As John writes, “No one has seen God at any time… the Only Begotten… hath declared him.” If we want to know what God is like, we look first and foremost to Jesus. Jesus becomes the lens through which every other conception of God is interpreted, not the other way around.
So perhaps the uniqueness of our testimony is not ultimately demonstrated by possessing more correct metaphysical information about God’s nature. Rather, its truth is demonstrated insofar as our understanding of God produces people who increasingly resemble Christ—people who love more deeply, forgive more freely, show greater mercy, and embody the fruits of the Spirit.
In the end, the strongest evidence that we know God isn’t that we can describe Him more accurately. It’s that, through knowing Him, we become more like Him.
chrisdrobison, thanks for your thoughtful response.
I think that I will just emphasize my agreement with you, that I feel like it is much more important to engage in the transformational than in seeking the transaction, as pertains to God (at least – I’m sure we could discuss transformation in terms of our relationships with each other too). And yes, it is hard to hear non-transactional talks at general conference, though I have at times experienced it. Those few talks – they come up a few times every year or two, I think – are ones that I cherish and move me. I’ve read some posts on W&T that have moved me in similar ways, and I keep those dear to my heart too.
It is frustrating to me, sometimes, to have grown up in a culture (western culture) that focuses so much on the transactional and on literalism. I feel like our western culture has this huge rut of transactional and literal thinking that we fall into by default over and over again; and it is so easy for that to obscure the transformational invitations that could be our opportunity with God.
chrisdrobison, thanks for your thoughtful response.
I think that I will just emphasize my agreement with you, that I feel like it is much more important to engage in the transformational than in seeking the transaction, as pertains to God (at least – I’m sure we could discuss transformation in terms of our relationships with each other too). And yes, it is hard to hear non-transactional talks at general conference, though I have at times experienced it. Those few talks – they come up a few times every year or two, I think – are ones that I cherish and move me. I’ve read some posts on W&T that have moved me in similar ways, and I keep those dear to my heart too.
It is frustrating to me, sometimes, to have grown up in a culture (western culture) that focuses so much on the transactional and on literalism. I feel like our western culture has this huge rut of transactional and literal thinking that we fall into by default over and over again; and it is so easy for that to obscure the transformational invitations that could be our opportunity with God.
chrisdrobison, thanks for your thoughtful response.
I think that I will just emphasize my agreement with you, that I feel like it is much more important to engage in the transformational than in seeking the transaction, as pertains to God (at least – I’m sure we could discuss transformation in terms of our relationships with each other too). And yes, it is hard to hear non-transactional talks at general conference, though I have at times experienced it. Those few talks – they come up a few times every year or two, I think – are ones that I cherish and move me. I’ve read some posts on W&T that have moved me in similar ways, and I keep those dear to my heart too.
It is frustrating to me, sometimes, to have grown up in a culture (western culture) that focuses so much on the transactional and on literalism. I feel like our western culture has this huge rut of transactional and literal thinking that we fall into by default over and over again; and it is so easy for that to obscure the transformational invitations that could be our opportunity with God.
Todd S,
Conceptions of God are really interesting because can you really choose your conception or is that formed by lived experience, culture, revelation (like Eli mentions) or other factors? It think it is tremendously difficult to have a healthy conception of God in a patriarchal system or if one or both parents you grew up with are abusive in some way. My mission president wrote a book called “Filled with His Love” that made the connection between attachment styles and our conceptions with God. The unfortunate thing about that book is that while he made a good point that our attachment styles with our parents often reflect the attachment styles we have with God, he didn’t address any good path of going from a less than ideal attachment style to a healthy one. It is really hard for someone to know what true love is beyonds words unless they have experienced it in reality from people. If God wants to be conceived of “correctly” he/she/they/it has to show up for people in the now and not rely on people “getting it” from a 2000 year old text.
Chris,
I couldn’t agree more with your assessment.
Frankly, I find the claim that any single institution is the only “true” or uniquely valid one on the whole earth to be deeply problematic. It feels like the opposite of humility and ultimately works against the pursuit of genuine spirituality and goodness.
The irony is that while we readily acknowledge that human beings are fallible, we often speak as though our interpretation of God is somehow infallible. There’s a world of difference between believing scripture contains truth and believing our understanding of it is complete or beyond error.
To claim that the LDS Church—or any church—is the only institution with God’s exclusive stamp of approval isn’t unique. It’s a claim made, in one form or another, by countless religious traditions throughout history. It begins to resemble the competitive language of the marketplace: every gym, diet, or self-improvement program insists it’s the one true path to the desired outcome. At their best, churches don’t possess God—they create communities where people can encounter love, meaning, service, and transformation. Those things are valuable regardless of whether any institution has a monopoly on divine truth. If there is a “fullness,” I suspect it is found less in having all the right answers than in continually becoming more loving, more humble, and more open to God’s work wherever it is found.
Both the Bible and the Book of Mormon claim that there is no other name given under heaven by which we can be saved. That claim excludes a lot of people. Even so, if the Savior’s name really is the only way for us to be saved then we should be grateful that the Lord loves us enough to tell us the truth of the matter. So too with the church. If the church is the only organization on earth where the Lord’s priesthood may be found then we should be grateful that he has made it known to us–else where do we go to enter into the gospel covenant?
That said, there’s no question that we seek after anything that is virtuous or lovely or praiseworthy or of good report–no matter where it may be found. But that’s not to say that because a portion of the truth may be found in one place or another that it is sufficient to lead a person to the Savior. What we don’t want to do is fail to bring people into the church because we believe our claim to be unfair. That would be like failing to care for the poor because we don’t want them to feel bad about their circumstances. The church offers the greatest blessings that can be found on earth–how can we not be eager to share them with every human soul?
Jack,
I think Sam Brown is right that one of our deepest human tendencies is to confuse the specific with the universal. We naturally want to say that my wife is the best wife, my neighborhood is the best place to live, my gym is the best gym, or my religion is the best religion. Those convictions can be genuine because they arise from lived experience. But they are claims rooted in the particular, not universal judgments about everyone else. What troubles me about the claim President Oaks revisits is that it frames value as inherently comparative. Something achieves its highest value only by being the one that excludes the others. That seems like an unnecessary way of understanding commitment.
Jim Palmer expresses the alternative well:
“You can commit yourself deeply to one spiritual path without dismissing every other. Commitment and openness are not opposites. One can walk a particular road wholeheartedly while recognizing that others may encounter truth and transformation along different paths.”
I don’t hear that as relativism. I hear it as humility.
President Oaks follows the “one and only true Church” statement by warning against the popular idea that all churches are true because, he argues, that would make doctrine irrelevant. But I don’t think those are the only two options. The choice isn’t between “only one church is true” and “all churches are equally true.” To use a simple analogy, I may genuinely believe my gym is the best fit for me. That doesn’t require believing every other gym is deficient or incapable of helping people become healthier. The purpose of a gym isn’t to prove its superiority; it’s to cultivate health. If another gym helps someone flourish, that doesn’t diminish the value of mine.
Likewise, the purpose of a church shouldn’t be to establish itself as the unrivaled institution. Its purpose is to help people awaken to God, become more loving, more just, more compassionate, and more Christlike. If another faith community genuinely participates in that work, I don’t see that as a threat. I see it as evidence that God is larger than any one institution. The irony is that insisting on being “the one and only true Church” can subtly shift the spotlight from Christ to the institution itself. Instead of asking, “Where is God transforming lives?” we begin by asking, “Which organization possesses exclusive authority?” The first question seems much closer to the ministry of Jesus than the second.
The deeper I travel into this work, the less interested I become in defending categories and the more interested I become in the quality of our relationship with reality itself. If Christ is the Truth, then every genuine encounter with truth, goodness, beauty, mercy, and love is, in some measure, an encounter with Him. That doesn’t make distinctions meaningless, but it does make institutional exclusivity seem far less central than many of us have been taught.
Todd S,
Thanks for your thoughtful response, Todd. I agree that truth and beauty can be found throughout the earth and that the Savior is the author of all that is good. And that means (IMO) that the Lord works with all of his children to the degree that they respond to the good that emanates from him.
That said we have to remember that it isn’t enough to be good–we must be transformed in order to return to the Father. And so what happens–according to Section 84–is that the Lord sends his influence into the world–his light–and as we respond to it he draws us towards himself. And at some point in the process he will draw us into the gospel covenant–that is, if we will receive it. And this is where things might feel a bit “exclusive”–but it isn’t exclusive at all because at some point along the way he will offer his covenant relationship to every one of his children.
That (and that) said, what’s at the crux of the conundrum is the problem of transformation. I believe that the doctrine is clear–that without the Savior’s priesthood we cannot receive the power necessary to become like him–and I mean in the fullest sense. There’s no question that we can grow in the attributes of Christ (in some measure) without the ordinances of the priesthood. But to made fit for his eternal Kingdom we must receive the ordinances of the priesthood and then endure a (typically) incremental process of sanctification–and that can only happen when and where the Lord’s authorized servants are to be found.
And so what we have is a charge to embrace all that is beautiful and true wherever it may be found–plus a command to lovingly invite all of the Lord’s children into the gospel covenant so that they too might receive the supernal blessings of his priesthood.
Jack,
We’ll probably have to agree to disagree, but I appreciate the conversation and hope we can keep sharing perspectives this way.
“We need to be transformed to return to Him.”
Why? What’s the problem with us in the first place?
I think this narrative starts in the wrong place, and because of that it ends up obscuring the real point. If a baby is born and dies immediately, they had no time to “transform.” So, at what point do we become unacceptable to God? I have no problem with transformation as a lifelong project. My issue is with the claim that transformation is required because something is fundamentally wrong with us. You also say that without the Savior’s priesthood we cannot receive the power to become like Him. But that raises another obvious question. If that’s true, shouldn’t Latter-day Saints be noticeably more transformed than everyone else? How do we account for people who seem far more Christlike than many who have received every ordinance, despite never having stepped foot in Mormonism—and perhaps never will?
The LDS Church has been the context in which you and I, and many others, have wrestled with our relationship to God. I value that deeply. But just as one gym can help people become healthy without every other gym being deficient, I don’t think my spiritual home has to diminish everyone else’s in order to have value.
I’ll end with one of my favorite observations from Alexis de Tocqueville:
“Men see the grandeur of the idea of unity in the means, God in the end. That is why the idea of grandeur leads us into a thousand forms of pettiness. To force all men to march in step toward a single goal—that is a human idea. To introduce endless variety into actions but to combine those actions in such a way that all lead via a thousand diverse paths to the accomplishment of a grand design—that is a divine idea. The human idea of unity is almost always sterile; God’s idea is immensely fertile. Men believe that they attest to their grandeur when they simplify the means; but it is God’s purpose that is simple, while his means vary endlessly.”
Unity is always at risk of becoming its counterfeit: uniformity.
Why do we take real, raw experience and pour concrete over it?
We systematize it. We codify it. We build dogma around it. Layer upon layer of rigidity gets added until the map becomes more important than the territory. Before long, living experience fades into the background while we find ourselves worshipping the map instead.
Todd S:
“My issue is with the claim that transformation is required because something is fundamentally wrong with us.”
As Joseph Smith said in the King Follet discourse–if we want to go where God is we must become like him. Now that’s not to say that there’s something fundamentally wrong with our design–but it does bespeak the necessity of some kind of change. And I think there are two things we need help with: first, our brokenness because of the fall and, second, our lack because of where we’re at in the process. As I’ve said before, the atonement not only brings about restoration it also enables progression–and it is by virtue of the priesthood that we are given full access to the powers of the Savior’s atonement.
“If that’s true, shouldn’t Latter-day Saints be noticeably more transformed than everyone else? How do we account for people who seem far more Christlike than many who have received every ordinance, despite never having stepped foot in Mormonism—and perhaps never will?”
I think we have to remember that no matter how good we are the gap between us and Deity is infinite without the atonement–and that we must come to the Savior on his terms in order to bridge that gap. That said, I’m confident that those who do well with the portion of light and truth they receive in this world will continue to progress in the next world; God is truly no respecter of persons.
Re: Tocqueville quote: I remember hearing Brian Hauglid talk about an encounter he had with Bruce R. McConkie. He said the Elder McConkie asked him how many plans of salvation there were–and Brian responded (with some fear and trembling) that there was only one. And then Elder McConkie said: there are as many plans of salvation as there are people.
That little story has always stuck with me because I’m certain that Elder McConkie would be the first to defend the doctrine that there is no other way nor means by which we can be saved except through the atoning blood of the Savior. And yet here he is conveying the notion that every individual has a tailor made plan of salvation. Even so, what I think he’s saying (in so many words) is that while there is only one way to return to the Father the Savior is involved in the details of our lives. And inasmuch as we are all incumbered with our own unique set of weaknesses and trials the Savior will lead you in ways that may differ in the ways that he leads me–but resulting in the same net outcome.
I’ve enjoyed the conversation too–thanks for engaging with me.
Sorry, I wanted to add: you say:
“But just as one gym can help people become healthy without every other gym being deficient, I don’t think my spiritual home has to diminish everyone else’s in order to have value.”
We don’t diminish the good that others do. But in keeping with your analogy we offer something they don’t have–like a health and wellness clinic adjacent to the gym. What we’re saying is that the priesthood adds an entirely new dimension–one that makes ascension a real quantity. And so unlike the Zoramites who thought they were above everyone we invite all to come so that we may ascend together.
Jack,
It’s interesting that you choose the King Follet discourse for the basis of your comment as the doctrine introduced in that is still disputed and not really “canon”. It feels more like proof texting than theology at this point. For me presupposition is a precarious position. You said: “Both the Bible and the Book of Mormon claim that there is no other name given under heaven by which we can be saved.” Only the BoM says that with finality. The Bible certainly does not at all remotely agree on that point. The whole concept of needing “salvation” or a fall is not even in the OT–that interpretation was imposed upon the text later by Christians. My point being–maybe it’s time to let our presuppositions go and see what God shows up then because right now the God we have is one we’ve made in our own image. And in my opinion, that God is pretty small, exclusionary, dogmatic, transactional and ineffective. And I guess I no longer want to make presuppositions about God based on the culture I marinaded in. I think presupposition is inherently performative in religion.
“We don’t diminish the good that others do. But in keeping with your analogy we offer something they don’t have–like a health and wellness clinic adjacent to the gym. What we’re saying is that the priesthood adds an entirely new dimension–one that makes ascension a real quantity.”
Your analogy just doesn’t land or match what Todd is going for here. You are completely missing the exclusionary part that comes intrinsically from how priesthood is currently administered. You’d be better off saying that it’s more like a gym that has clinic next it that has a total and complete monopoly on some vital human nutrient that they don’t share but rather purposefully gatekeep to only a select few of the entirety of human population that are willing to jump through the made-up loops they require. And if people in that clinic stop believing in what’s being sold, they are cut off from the vital nutrient by the clinic.
chrisdrobison,
The gospel covenant requires that we do three things: take upon ourselves the name of the Savior, keep his commandments, and remember him. No one can force us into the covenant–and so we exclude ourselves if we don’t want to participate in it.
PS: Acts 4:12.
Jack,
I’m aware of that, but you know full well it is so much more than those 3 things from an LDS perspective. Because any Christian will claim they are living Act 4:12. And based on your history of responses on W&T, you’d say they aren’t because they haven’t received ordinances laid out in scripture they don’t believe in by priesthood they don’t have a concept of. Your response is side stepping the issue here. You’ve made the claim that the transformation is required to get back to God. And not just any transformation, but a specifically selected transformation that carefully matches something aligned with LDS doctrine. I adjusted your analogy to fit that claim.
You quote the New Testament. The thing is Paul actually is an example of not really needing the church org for transformation. God came to him directly. Paul didn’t receive laying on of hands for his apostolic calling, he was just called directly even though he was within spitting distance of supposed priesthood authority. Yes he got baptized, but nothing else really to speak. He was transformed, but not by ordinance or priesthood. He was transformed by his encounter with God. The real writings of Paul focus on grace for that very reason. God’s Grace is not administered by the church. And to be honest, I think Paul scares us a lot because he represents an outlier that we don’t control. And we need control over the whole thing to feel unique and special.
I remember watching this video years ago of this single woman talking about a transformative encounter she had when in the depths of despair. She described this presence she felt and then a full body transformation that lifted everything out of the depths. Her experience was not unlike that described in BoM as baptism of fire and Holy Ghost. She’s not LDS, but I’d say based on her experience she doesn’t need us. She’s been changed. The God has done his work in her. But we’d say she wasn’t done yet. Because we’re the gatekeepers, the dealers of the other secret stash hardly anyone knows about but is supposedly vital. Can you not see the quandary here?
chrisdrobison,
Thanks for the response. Just to be clear–I posted that verse from Acts as evidence that the notion of there being no other name by which we can be saved except the Savior’s is in the Bible as well as the Book of Mormon.
Yes–those are the three basic elements that are spoken of in the sacrament prayers. But you’re right that there’s more than that if we zero in on all that the Lord commands us to do. The gospel is simple but not simplistic–as we learn by studying the Sermon on the Mount.
Re: Paul: I think he spent three years or so in preparation before his call as an apostle. There record is pretty slim about that phase of his life–and so we have to be careful not make too many assumptions about we he did or didn’t experience during that time.
“God’s Grace is not administered by the church.”
Not per se–but even so, I’d say that his grace is manifest chiefly through the gift of the Holy Ghost–that is, if we’re talking about grace in the same terms that Paul speaks of it. And so those who come to the gospel covenant and are baptized and receive the gift of the Holy Ghost position themselves to receive a greater portion of the Lord’s transforming influence.
That said, I certainly agree that many people receive of the Lord’s influence through the Spirit of Truth–which can be very powerful. But if we desire to be sanctified then we must receive the Holy Ghost and then continue faithfully, being purged by degrees and led into greater spiritual heights by virtue of the Savior’s holy priesthood.