Conclusion

One day, while teaching in the city of Capernaum, Jesus challenged the trust of his followers. He taught them that the Father had sent spiritual bread—manna—from heaven to nourish the children of Israel. Those listening assumed that He was talking about divine teachings that would nourish their hearts and minds. They said, “Lord, evermore give us this bread” (John 6:34).¶

To this question, Jesus replied, “I am the bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst. … I am the bread which came down from heaven” (John 6:35, 41). In other words, Christ was not there to give them nourishing words from God—He was the bread that would nourish them. Despite their Hebrew heritage, many of those who listened did not like this response. We read,¶

Peter’s response is important: “Lord, to whom shall we go?” They were sure that Jesus was the Son of God. Even if they did not fully understand what He taught—only later would John describe Jesus as the Word, rather than merely having words—they knew no one else who claimed the same divine commission. The question at hand was not, “What should we believe?” but rather, “Who has divine authority?”¶

In our introduction, we mentioned the painful process of “faith deconstruction”—the shattering of belief that can occur when the messy realities of Church history and mortal life collide with the expectation of a perfect, flawless system. We have argued that this is the predictable collapse of a faith built on the brittle foundation of idea-truth. Our hope is that the principles in this book offer a path to a more durable and joyful faith. By shifting our foundation from abstract ideas to the living person of Jesus Christ, we can reconstruct—or better yet, re-consecrate—our testimony. A faith centered on a relationship with our Divine Guide is not threatened by a complex past or an uncertain future.¶

Many of the beliefs and practices of the Latter-day Saint community simply do not make sense in the modern world. To an outsider, encountering the covenantal worldview of the Restoration can feel bewildering. It can be like watching the lion Aslan appear on the bridge of the starship Enterprise. The two worlds operate on fundamentally different assumptions. To Captain Kirk, Aslan is a biological anomaly. To Mr. Spock, he is an illogical paradox. Neither of them has a category for “the Son of the Emperor-beyond-the-Sea.” Similarly, many of the questions we ask about the Church are Enterprise questions, when we are dealing with a Narnian reality.¶

Similarly, the covenantal tradition may appear irrational from the perspective of the philosophical tradition, and the person view of truth may look bizarre to those acculturated into an idea view of truth. This is why many of our questions—however simple and honest they may seem—often feel unanswerable. It is because our questions are often built on the assumptions of idea-truth—a world of abstract, universal principles—while the restored gospel is rooted in the covenantal tradition of a living, acting Person. When viewed through the lens of abstract principles, a faith based on relationship, history, and continuing revelation can seem illogical or primitive.¶

However, these same beliefs and practices make perfect sense if we see the world through the lens of the covenantal tradition and adopt a person view of truth. When we know the differences between these two traditions, we can develop a richer understanding of our beliefs. Matthew Arnold, a British poet, once incisively wrote, “Hebraism and Hellenism [another term for Greek philosophy]—between these two points of influence moves our world.”¹¹⁶ When we tease out the influences of each, we can better frame questions about our faith.¶

We will use polygamy as our case example. When we adopt the philosophical tradition, we might ask the question, “How can we reconcile Joseph Smith’s practice of polygamy with the Book of Mormon’s condemnation of polygamy?” This question assumes that there is a broad principle—a universal moral code—that makes rational sense of God’s varying instructions. But from the covenantal tradition, we might ask instead, “What does God requires of us in the here and now? Are the apostles and prophets who lead us today commissioned by Him?”¶

When we adopt an idea view of truth, we might ask God, “Is the doctrine of polygamy a true (or false) doctrine?” Our concern is whether certain ideas are “truth.” When we ask these sorts of questions, we may or may not receive the answers we seek. But when we adopt a person view of truth, we might ask God, “How can I be a better spouse? How can I invite your hand into my marriage? What can I do to serve you in my family responsibilities?” Our concern here is our relationship with God and others—how we can fulfill our covenants duties to God and our family.¶

Consider the sorts of questions that God answered in the scriptures. When Nephi was instructed to build a ship, he asked, “Lord, whither shall I go that I may find ore to molten, that I may make tools to construct the ship after the manner which thou hast shown unto me?” (1 Nephi 17:9). Nephi’s question was one of action, not doctrine—how he could serve God and fulfill His commandments. When Aaron taught the Lamanite King about the plan of salvation, the king asked:¶

Shortly after, the king prayed and asked God, “O God, Aaron hath told me that there is a God; and if there is a God, and if thou art God, wilt thou make thyself known unto me, and I will give away all my sins to know thee” (Alma 22:18). These sorts of questions presume a person-truth—and these are the sorts of questions that find answers.¶

When this happens, our testimony becomes a testimony of Christ and His redeeming grace in our hearts and minds, not a testimony of abstract doctrines. The Church and its institutions become less a system of abstract belief than tools that help us make covenants and live out our moral duties. We begin to see God’s influence in our communities as we fulfill our callings and responsibilities. And we become sure—with a surety grounded in personal experience—that the Church was established by God and is lead by Him, even if it is administered by mortal people. And we become sure of God’s hand in our own life, and He unfolds His purposes to us.¶

Before we close this book, we want to caution our readers. We treat the ideas in this book as a useful heuristic, that is, a broad-brush-stroke mental “rule of thumb” or “guideline.” If we take the ideas in this book too rigidly, we are bound to end up in trouble. This book is itself a conceptual framework, a set of ideas. It should be treated like every other ideological perspective: useful whenever it strengthens our covenant relationship with God, dangerous when it alienates us from God. For example, nothing in this book should be used to rationalize moral relativism or. There are reliable patterns in human experience, and most of God’s commandments will not change willy-nilly from decade to decade. Our hope is simply to avoid both the extremes of moral relativism and dogmatic absolutism.¶

And, most importantly, we will be less likely to mistake abstract philosophical systems for the divine, embodied Truth we worship. We do not reject philosophy or abstract ideas altogether. This book is, after all, written in the philosophical tradition. If we were writing in the covenantal tradition, we might have simply told stories instead—stories about people’s experiences with God. We agree with Slife and Reber, who wrote:¶

This applies for the abstract ideas discussed in this book. Do not adopt these ideas in inflexible ways that might lead you to ignore correction from the Truth Himself or from His chosen servants. We have failed if our readers adopt our approach as a dogmatic theology of its own. We will be deeply troubled if readers use our ideas disparage or criticize prophets and apostles who teach and warn the Church. Not every leader of the Church will agree with our perspective. This in no way diminishes their stewardship as the Lord’s appointed servants. If we take our approach seriously, the words of the living Christ as delivered by His chosen servants in the here-and-now take precedence over the reasoning of men, no matter how nuanced such reasoning might be.¶

Our final caveat is, perhaps, the most important. We believe that our view can help us navigate the intellectual and spiritual labyrinths of our day. That said, we do not have to know anything about philosophy to live a life of faithful, dedicated discipleship. To borrow a phrase from James Faulconer, “the proverbial farmer in Santaquin” can live a devoted life without ever learning about philosophy or the history of ideas.¹¹⁸ We genuinely hope this book is illuminating for our readers, but we certainly do not believe that understanding any of it is essential to keeping our covenants with God (even if, at times, it may be useful).¶

If you are unconvinced by our perspective, but you keep your covenants with God and faithfully serve in the Church, that is great! If we take our own perspective seriously, then we shouldn’t be too worried if others don’t see things quite like we do, as long as they live out their covenants with God. If the viewpoint in this book strengthens your commitment to God and your willingness to serve in His kingdom, then that is also great. Our main goal is to help readers focus on their relationship with Christ and value their participation in the Church.¶

Our goal has been to explore some of the implications of our Israelite heritage and the covenantal tradition. As we stated in the introduction, we echo the words of Nephi, who wrote, “For the fulness of mine intent is that I may persuade men to come unto the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, and be saved” (1 Nephi 6:4). We want our readers to come to know God through prayer, by studying His words, by living His commandments, by participating in the rituals and ceremonies of His holy temple, and by heeding the words of His modern-day prophets and apostles. These things will help us to come to know God, rather than merely knowing about Him. Our goal is to witness the hand of God in our lives so that we can testify of our own experiences with the Almighty.¶