A fixed self or a dynamic self?

The central distinction between idea-truth and person-truth has profound implications that extend beyond our view of God to our view of ourselves. One of the most significant is how we understand human identity. The philosophical tradition, with its emphasis on unchanging essences, can lead us to see our core self as a fixed identity—a set of permanent traits to be discovered. In contrast, the covenantal tradition, with its emphasis on relationship and action, suggests a dynamic identity—something we are actively creating through our choices and covenants.¶

Because Greek philosophers prioritized what does not change as more fundamental than what does change, those who inherit this tradition might lead us to see human nature as fixed and unchangeable. For example, if at certain times you are sad but at other times you are cheery and pleasant, then your mood is not part of your essential identity. However, your temperament—that is, the averages of your mood swings, and your general demeanor—may be more static and more central to your character.¶

Psychologists often talk about an individual’s “personality,” which they define as “a pattern of relatively permanent traits and unique characteristics that give both consistency and individuality to a person’s behavior.”¹ In other words, personality and identity are those attributes that remain stable across contexts and situations. From this view, to ask someone to change their personality is asking them to do the impossible. Indeed, such a request would be deeply insulting, as it implies that a core part of the person is lacking.¶

The covenantal tradition, on the other hand, might lead us to view our identity as bound up in activity. From this perspective, life is about change—changing who we are, changing our relationships with others and God, and through that change fulfilling the purpose of life, which is to see what we and God can make of ourselves. From this perspective, there is nothing particularly unchangeable about our identity. Change is not only a possibility but part of who we are; to live is to change, and who we are is defined by our activity in the world.¶

Repentance as genuine change

Philosopher James Faulconer traces these competing worldviews—one focused on static essence, the other on dynamic action—to their ancient expressions in Greek and Hebrew thought. His analysis is a powerful illustration of how deeply these assumptions can run:¶

Understanding this distinction—we’ll call it a fixed-identity perspective and a dynamic-identity perspective—can help us understand how and why the covenantal tradition centeres our identity on our way of life and our commitments. In other words, in the covenantal tradition, who we are is defined by our ongoing activities and relationships, not by what is unchanging about us. The implications of this simple idea are staggering. If our core identity is not fixed but in flux, then we can change who we are by changing what we do (and how we do it). Through repentance (a change in our behavior and our relationship with God), we can change our very nature—with the help of Christ, of course. Alma, after his conversion to Christ, taught:¶

Just as we should not marvel that we must change (according to Alma), in the covenantal tradition, we do not need to marvel that we can change. This does not mean it is easy to drop bad habits or to relinquish deeply engrained patterns of thought and behavior. This also does not mean that temptation can be willed away by conscious choice. It simply means that our core being is not etched in stone, and that there is the possibility of change, even if change takes time. The philosophical tradition inspired by Greek philosophy does not allow for this possibility, whereas the covenantal tradition does.¶

Life as a test of discovery vs. a test of creation

This can influence how we think of the final judgment and the purpose of mortality. We learn from Abraham that the Earth was created at least partially as a test for God’s children: “And we will prove them herewith, to see if they will do all things whatsoever the Lord their God shall command them” (Abraham 3:25). What this verse means, however, depends quite a bit on whether we see our inner nature as fixed and immutable, or as dynamic and in flux.¶

If we think of human identity as unchangeable, the test of life is to discover our inner nature and true identity. From this view, the test of life is like a spectrograph—it reveals the essential elements already within us that may have previously been hidden (from ourselves or God).³ The purpose of mortality is to put us in situations where our nature is made manifest in behavior (thought, word, and deed). From this perspective, if someone is resurrected into the celestial kingdom, his or her choices were simply manifestations of a latent celestial nature. Ultimately, this perspective makes the idea of repentance—real, lasting change in the soul—difficult to understand. Our desires, habits, inclinations, and attitudes are seen as a reflection of who we really are.¶

In contrast, if we see human nature as bound up in our actions, we understand the final judgment and the purpose of life quite differently. In this perspective, whether we are “celestial material” or “telestial material” is entirely up for revision at any time. As moral agents, it is up to us in each moment whose voice we will “[list] to obey” (Alma 3:27) and in whose image we will seek to be re-made. This perspective makes the most sense of our culpability for sin, for how can we be judged for being something that we did not choose to be?¶

Seen in this way, life is a test to determine what we will make of ourselves (with Christ), not to see which already-existing nature gets revealed. As President Dallin H. Oaks teaches: “[T]he Final Judgment is not just an evaluation of a sum total of good and evil acts—what we have done. It is an acknowledgment of the final effect of our acts and thoughts—what we have become.”⁴ President Oak’s language would not make sense if our inner nature is unchangeable and static, since it implies that who we are is dynamic and in flux.¶

We can illustrate the difference between these two views by asking, “What is it that makes us sinners?” From a fixed-identity perspective, once we have committed a sin, we are by definition sinners. And once having done so, there is no way to go back—without divine aid, our being sinners is a static, unchangeable condition. From a dynamic-identity perspective, however, being a sinner means having a heart or lifestyle of sin. In this view, by relinquishing our sinful hearts and changing our lifestyles, we can cease to be sinners—no matter what we’ve done in the past. It is a malleable condition, rather than a permanent one.¶

Neither of these views denies the necessity of Christ. The first view treats Christ as necessary because once we have become sinners, only Christ can remove the stain of past sin. The second view treats Christ as necessary because only through Christ’s transforming grace can we be remade as people and step into a new and holier way of living, and a renewed relationship with God. We cannot escape the attitudes, habits, and worldviews of sin by ourselves. We need the rescuing activity of Christ and His atonement to free us from the grasp of sin.¶

Nephi taught that when God’s children are resurrected and brought into judgment, “if their works have been filthiness they must needs be filthy; and if they be filthy it must needs be that they cannot dwell in the kingdom of God” (1 Ne. 15:33). If we approach this scripture from a fixed-identity perspective, we might read it this way: “If they have a filthy nature, then the result will be that their works are filthiness.” However, when we read the same passage with dynamic-identity perspective, Nephi is saying that our nature is determined, not revealed, by our actions.¶

Identity as a state vs. identity as a relationship

In modern Western thought, family relationships are often defined in static, biological terms: a father is a father by virtue of a genetic link. The covenantal worldview of the scriptures, however, often understands these roles in active, functional terms. To be a father was not merely a matter of biology, but of fulfilling a role: to provide, protect, and give strength to the family. To be a mother was to be the heart of the home, the one who nurtured and bound the family together. In this view, “father” and “mother” are not just titles, they are verbs. They describe a way of life, a way of relating to another.¶

Thus while biological ties are important, the title “father” is also used to denote the source of one's life, spiritual identity, and strength. This functional understanding of fatherhood is what gives King Benjamin's sermon its profound power. He is not speaking in mere metaphor when he says:¶

From the perspective of the covenantal tradition, King Benjamin is describing something far more profound than a legal adoption. He is describing a real, dynamic relationship forged through our actions. We become Christ’s children in a functional sense when we draw our spiritual life and strength from Him. But because this is a living relationship, it is also contingent. It is not that Christ disowns us, but that when we betray our covenants and turn away, we cease to draw strength from Him; we effectively step out of that filial relationship. This is the essence of a dynamic identity: our choices and actions do not simply reveal who we are, as if from a fixed inner nature. Instead, they actively determine the relationships that define us, and thus, who we are becoming.¶

The scriptures sometimes use harsh language to describe those who live in sin. King Benjamin, for example, stated: “For the natural man is an enemy to God, and has been from the fall of Adam, and will be, forever and ever” (Mosiah 3:19). When Martin Harris lost 116 pages of the translated manuscript of the Book of Mormon, the Lord told Joseph Smith, “Now, behold, I say unto you, that because you delivered up those writings which you had power given unto you to translate ... into the hands of a wicked man, you have lost them” (D&C 10:1).¶

To modern sensibilities, this seems harsh: The natural man is an enemy to God? Martin Harris, who had no conscious intentions of hindering God’s work, a wicked man? This seems harsh because we usually describe people in terms of what is unchanging about them. But from a dynamic-identity perspective, wickedness is always a (potentially) temporary state of the soul. Someone can be wicked in one moment, and righteous in the next—depending on their activities and choices. King Benjamin, for example, continued:¶

In other words, the natural man is not some unchanging characteristic of the soul but is simply the state of the soul when we are rebelling against the Lord. We can put off the natural man—we can yield to the invitations of the Holy Spirit. When the scriptures refer to people as wicked, or as sinners, or as enemies of God, no permanent identity is attributed to anyone. These are what we call “divine insults,” which are insulting only if we adopt fixed-identity perspective and think they refer to something unchangeable about us.¶

We ought to love those who make bad choices and consider them persons worthy of respect—not because they are good people (as if only good people deserve respect and love), but because they are people. Further, no matter how good or bad a person is at the moment, there is always the possibility of genuine change. President Thomas S. Monson taught, “We have the responsibility to see individuals not as they are but rather as they can become. I would plead with you to think of them in this way.”⁵ To do this, we must see ourselves and others through the eyes of the covenantal tradition, and see that who we are is bound up in what we do.¶

In a powerful address to young adults, President Russell M. Nelson taught this very principle, offering a profound paradox: our most unchanging identities are, in fact, the very ones that guarantee our potential for dynamic change. He explained that our most important identifiers are not static traits but active, covenantal relationships:¶

President Nelson's point is subtle and brilliant. The world’s labels are “fixed” in a way that limits us, trapping us in a static description of who we are. The gospel’s identifiers, however, are “unchanging” in the way a foundation is unchanging—they are a secure base of eternal relationships from which we can grow:¶

This prophetic counsel is the essence of the dynamic self. Our truest identity is not found in a static description of what we are, but in the living, covenantal relationships that reveal what we can become.¶

Reframing Our Questions: Chapter 11

The first question operates from a fixed-identity perspective. It assumes that our struggles reveal a permanent, underlying essence or “personality” that cannot be changed. This can lead to despair, framing our identity in terms of our limitations. The second question embraces a dynamic identity. It is forward-looking, action-oriented, and relational. It focuses not on a static diagnosis of what we are, but on the next step in the process of becoming through our covenant relationship with Christ.¶

The first question treats sin as a permanent stain that changes our fundamental status or essence. It sees the Final Judgment as a “spectrograph” that reveals this stained identity. The second question views sin as a temporary state of being turned away from God. It understands repentance not as erasing a fact, but as a real, active turning back (shube) to a relationship that has the power to transform our very nature. It focuses on direction, not just location.¶

The first question seeks a static, worldly label to categorize and define the self, which, as President Nelson warned, can “pigeonhole” us and limit our potential. The second question takes the three paramount identifiers given by a prophet and treats them not as static labels, but as active, living relationships to be nurtured. It shifts the focus from asking “What box do I fit in?” to “What covenants am I living?”¶

Footnotes

1. Jess Feist, Gregory J. Feist, and Tomi-Ann Roberts, Theories of Personality, 8th Edition (Dubuque, IA: McGraw-Hill, 2012), 4. ↩

2. Faulconer, Scripture Study, 140-141. ↩

3. A spectrograph is a scientific instrument that reflects light off of an unknown substance, such as a mineral. Researchers determine what elements are within the substance by observing the wavelengths of the reflected light. ↩

4. Dallin H. Oaks, “The Challenge to Become,” Ensign, November, 2000. ↩

5. Thomas S. Monson, “See Others as They May Become,” Ensign, November 2012, 69-70. ↩