Person-truth does not give us control

Why is truth reliable? Why is truth valuable? Idea-truth is seen as reliable because it never changes. In contrast, person-truth is reliable because He is good. Idea-truth is seen as valuable because knowing the laws of how the world works gives us control over that world, and our knowledge of idea-truth is independent of our moral activities. However, our relationship with person-truth is contingent on our moral conduct and may actually require us to relinquish control in our lives. For idea-truth, reliability is found unchangeableness and control. For person-truth, reliability is found in goodness and surrender.¶

If truth is found in unchangeable ideas, and if the operations of the physical world are patterned after these ideas, then truth allows us to predict what will happen in future or counterfactual situations. Once we know what could happen if conditions were different, we can exert control over the future by changing those conditions. This is called the “technological ideal” of modern science. Seen in this light, idea-truth is valuable because of the power that it provides us over our lives.¶

Further, knowing idea-truth is entirely independent of the moral quality of our lives. Our behavior in the bedroom (or the boardroom), our dishonesty and pride, or our lack of compassion towards those who suffer, are all unrelated to our ability to accurately report observations or make logical inferences. For example, is the general theory of relativity undermined because Einstein was unfaithful to each of his wives? Idea-truth is entirely a matter of the mind, not of the heart or soul. Idea-truth does not care what we plan to do with our knowledge.¶

Person-truth involves personal morality

In contrast, how we behave towards God and others does affect our ability to know person-truth. In fact, it is only through obedience to the Truth made Flesh that we come to really know Him. Violating God’s laws damages our relationship with Him and alienates us from Truth. Joseph Smith taught this quite clearly when he said: “God has created man with a mind capable of instruction, and a faculty which may be enlarged in proportion to the heed and diligence given to the light communicated from heaven to the intellect.”¹¶

From this view, our ability to understand God’s will for us may be jeopardized if we are cruel to others, or if we self-serving. Obviously, an active God can interrupt a life of sin and call us unto repentance, as He did Saul on the road to Damascus or Alma the Younger as he was gadding about trying to destroy the Church. Nonetheless, our capacity to know God depends on our receptiveness to His voice and our willingness to covenant with Him.¶

Of course, person-truth does grant us power, but of a different kind than the technological ideal of modern thought. The Book of Mormon prophet Jacob taught that through faith “we truly can command in the name of Jesus and the very trees obey us, or the mountains, or the waves of the sea” (Jacob 4:6). However, it is always and ever God’s power by which we do this. In the very next verse, Jacob clarifies, “Nevertheless, the Lord God showeth us our weakness that we may know that it is by his grace, and his great condescensions unto the children of men, that we have power to do these things” (Jacob 4:7, emphasis added).¶

Clearly, the power of God is not found in our ability to extrapolate future events through unchangeable laws. It is a power grounded in moral goodness and the spiritual possibilities of righteous living. Unlike idea-truth, person-truth cares what we plan to do with His power. As we read in the Doctrine and Covenants:¶

Behold, there are many called, but few are chosen. And why are they not chosen? Because their hearts are set so much upon the things of this world, and aspire to the honors of men, that they do not learn this one lesson—That the rights of the priesthood are inseparably connected with the powers of heaven, and that the powers of heaven cannot be controlled nor handled only upon the principles of righteousness (D&C 121:34-36).¶

In other words, while idea-truth promises to help us exert our will on the world (for good or bad), person-truth does nothing of the sort. It is only when we strive to enact God’s will (in humility) that person-truth shares His power with us.¶

Person-truth does not help us predict the future

From the idea view of truth, we find safety in formulating reliable expectations of the future. In contrast, from the person view of truth, our safety is grounded in the goodness of God and His promises to us. An anecdote from a popular story by C. S. Lewis may help illustrate this point. In his science fiction book, Perelandra, Lewis tells a story of an Eden-like ocean world with both floating islands and fixed lands. One of the protagonists, a woman, was commanded by a Divine Entity to spend her nights on islands that float with the currents.¶

At one point in the story, her companion drifted away on a neighboring floating island, and she did not know when she would see him again. A demonic being tempted her to spend a night on fixed land, promising her that if she did so, she would be better situated to find her lost companion. Lewis’s story differs from the Biblical account of Eden, because the protagonist never succumbs to temptation. She is later introduced to fixed land by divine beings, who rescind the prior commandment and reunite her with her companion. At this point, she remarks:¶

The reason for not yet living on the Fixed Land is now so plain. How could I wish to live there except because it was Fixed? And why should I desire the Fixed except to make sure—to be able on one day to command where I should be the next and what should happen to me? It was to reject the wave—to draw my hands out of [God’s], to say to Him, “Not thus, but thus”—to put in our own power what times should roll toward us. ... That would have been cold love and feeble trust. And out of it how could we ever have climbed back into love and trust again?²¶

In other words, the protagonist chose faithfulness to a Person over the predictable safety of an idea. Sometimes we apply the technological ideal of idea-truth to the gospel. We assume that if truth is a set of abstract ideas that never change, then when we know truth, it will help us form expectations of the future. In this view, gospel living becomes a formula that we follow to guarantee a prosperous life, a happy marriage, faithful children, or any number of other blessings. Turning to Christ involves surrendering control over our lives. We no longer put “trust in the arm of flesh” (2 Ne. 4:34) or put our hopes and faith in our expectations for the future. Although entirely fictional, the above passage from Lewis echoes the sentiments of the New Testament apostle James, who wrote:¶

Go to now, ye that say, To day or to morrow we will go into such a city, and continue there a year, and buy and sell, and get gain: Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away. For that ye ought to say, If the Lord will, we shall live, and do this, or that. (James 4:13-15)¶

Life springs surprises on even the most faithful Saints—an unexpected death in the family, a distressing inability to marry, the terrors of war, the careless mistakes of others, and so forth. We cannot control the future, and person-truth promises no such mastery. This does not mean we should live life passively or ignore the future when conducting our affairs. It simply means that our faith and trust should rest with God, not our preparations. We use the abstract ideas and patterns of science and technology to advance our own aims and desires, whereas person-truth is an end unto Himself.¶

Superstition vs. faith

Consider this story, one that we’ve heard from students many times: Alex is a dedicated student who prays every morning before starting their day. One particularly hectic morning, Alex oversleeps and rushes to an important exam without taking time for their usual morning prayer. The exam turns out to be more difficult than expected, and Alex performs poorly. Reflecting on the disappointing result, Alex thinks, “I forgot to pray this morning. That must be why I did badly on the exam.”¶

This is an example of superstition, and it is based on the assumption that the daily ups and downs of our lives—and the various successes and failures we experience—can be render completely within our control, if we live our lives exactly according to the right formulas and rules. President Christofferson explains:¶

Some misunderstand the promises of God to mean that obedience to Him yields specific outcomes on a fixed schedule. They might think, “If I diligently serve a full-time mission, God will bless me with a happy marriage and children” or “If I refrain from doing schoolwork on the Sabbath, God will bless me with good grades” or “If I pay tithing, God will bless me with that job I’ve been wanting.” If life doesn’t fall out precisely this way or according to an expected timetable, they may feel betrayed by God.¶

But things are not so mechanical in the divine economy. We ought not to think of God’s plan as a cosmic vending machine where we (1) select a desired blessing, (2) insert the required sum of good works, and (3) the order is promptly delivered.¶

In other words, we sometimes think of the Gospel as a means of wresting control over our lives from God. Sometimes we are asked, “What is the difference, then, between superstition and religion?” When we embrace superstition, the focus is on staving off bad events in our lives—and the superstitious often seek control over the ebbs and flows of life through their observances and rituals. Furthermore, they often rely on spurious correlations and the narrative fallacy (where we assign meaning and causation to what is often mere happenstance).¶

In contrast, religion is not about obtaining control over our lives. For the religious (as opposed to the mere superstitious), the focus is on developing a relationship with God. Religion (properly understood) aims to change our character by anchoring our choices in enduring values. Religion helps us know what to prioritize in life, but doesn’t promise control over the ups and downs of life. Of course, this doesn’t mean that the performances of our faith do not matter. They just matter for a different reason. President Christofferson continues:¶

Our repentance and obedience, our service and sacrifices do matter. We want to be among those described by Ether as “always abounding in good works.” But it is not so much because of some tally kept in celestial account books. These things matter because they engage us in God’s work and are the means by which we collaborate with Him in our own transformation from natural man to saint. What our Heavenly Father offers us is Himself and His Son, a close and enduring relationship with Them through the grace and mediation of Jesus Christ, our Redeemer.¶

The ultimate prize is not a life of ordered harmony—where the ebbs and flows of life are under our control—but a relationship with God and the presence of His spirit throughout the ups and downs. The performances of our faith (prayer, scripture study, ordinances, the temple) matter because they are part of the process of educating our desires and changing our character to become more like God. The goal is personal transformation, not a superstitious control over our lives.¶

Person-truth is not safe

Another fictional anecdote from C. S. Lewis’s book The Silver Chair will help illustrate our point even more. In Lewis’s story, the character Jill has for the first time stepped into a magical world in Aslan’s own country. Aslan is the Great Lion, the son of the Emperor beyond the sea. All creatures in Narnia are morally accountable to him, and they look to him for guidance. Jill knows nothing of Narnia or Aslan, and she is alone and terrified and extremely thirsty.¶

In time she stumbles upon a stream, but between her and the stream is a fearsome lion. After waiting some time, hoping for the lion to move away, Jill is stunned to hear the lion speak: “If you are thirsty, you may drink.” Jill, with reverential awe, asks, “Will you promise not to—do anything to me, if I do come?” Aslan responds, “I make no promise.” The conversation then continues:¶

“Do you eat girls?” she said.¶

“I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms,” said the Lion. It didn’t say this as if were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it.¶

“I daren’t come and drink,” said Jill.¶

“Then you will die of thirst,” said the Lion.¶

“Oh dear!” said Jill, coming another step nearer. “I suppose I must go and look for another stream then.”¶

“There is no other stream,” said the Lion.³¶

While Aslan invited Jill forward to drink from the stream, he offered her no promise of safety. Nonetheless, Jill decides to trust Aslan and drink from the stream. Aslan then asks her to go on a quest, and the adventure of the book begins. Lewis offers us a similar insight in another Narnia book, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. In this story, the Pevensie children find themselves in Narnia in the care of some talking beavers who speak reverentially about Aslan. Upon hearing that Aslan is a lion, the children ask, “Is he safe?” One of the beavers respond, “Safe? [D]on’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”⁴¶

What does it mean that God is not “safe”? We certainly do not mean that God is dangerous to us, in the sense that we are imperiled by Him. Rather, it means that God is always capable of surprising us. We cannot ever wrap our minds around God so completely as to be able to anticipate His will for us in all contexts of our lives. Our ideas of God are always at risk of being rendered obsolete by God’s actual presence and activity in our lives. C. S. Lewis, while writing on his experiences after his wife passed away (who, in the passage below, is referred to as “H”), shares insights that illustrate the difference between a real person and our ideas about said person. He wrote:¶

Today I had to meet a man I haven’t seen for ten years. And all that time I had thought I was remembering him well—how he looked and spoke and the sort of things he said. The first five minutes of the real man shattered the image completely. Not that he had changed. On the contrary. I kept on thinking, ‘Yes, of course, of course. I’d forgotten that he thought that—or disliked this, or knew so-and-so—or jerked his head back that way.’ I had known all these things once and I recognized them the moment I met them again. But they had all faded out of my mental picture of him, and when they were all replaced by his actual presence the total effect was quite astonishingly different from the image I had carried about with me for those ten years. How can I hope that this will not happen to my memory of H? That it is not happening already? Slowly, quietly, like snow-flakes—like the small flakes that come when it is going to snow all night—little flakes of me, my impressions, my selections, are settling down on the image of her. The real shape will be quite hidden in the end. Ten minutes—ten seconds—of the real H. would correct all this. And yet, even if those ten seconds were allowed me, one second later the little flakes would begin to fall again. The rough, sharp, cleansing tang of her otherness is gone.⁵¶

In other words, in the absence of the real person, our ideas about a person tend to ossify, settling into familiar patterns until we almost come to believe they are the same thing as the person themselves. However, the mark of being in the presence of a real human being is that our ideas about the person are always at risk of being made obsolete by the real person before us. So it is with the distinction between idea-truth and person-truth.¶

It is in this way that God is not safe. He is not an abstract idol that we can mold in our own image, or render in our minds along wholly rational, expected, and familiar grooves; rather, He is a real person who can come and dash our mental idols of Him at any time He pleases. As we quoted earlier in the book, C. S. Lewis further wrote, “My idea of God is not a divine idea. It has to be shattered time after time. He shatters it Himself. He is the great iconoclast. Could we not say that this shattering is one of the marks of His presence?”⁶¶

In the character of Aslan, and in his description of his own experiences with grief, Lewis has beautifully expressed the profound difference between idea-truth and person-truth. Idea-truth is reliable because it is safe. Once you genuinely know it, you know what to expect—there will be no surprises. It never changes the rules on you, asks you to sacrifice something dear to you, or holds you morally accountable. Idea-truth dispels the mystery of life and nature, allows us to predict what comes next, and brings the world under human control. It is our attempt to enwrap the world of our experience within the folds of reason, so that everything makes sense to us.¶

Like Aslan, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob is reliable because He is good. However, He is certainly not safe. He is not predictable or controllable—or without surprises up His sleeve. Becoming disciples of Christ provides no guarantee against suffering, heartache, grief, or pain (which is precisely what we ask of idea-truth and its companion, the technological ideal of science). As a real person—with that “cleansing tang of otherness” that Lewis describes—He is always and ever able to challenge our conceptions of Him through His ongoing activities in the world. To the extent that person-truth does promise stability, it is because covenantal tradition relies “on covenant as a means of establishing stable expectations in a changing world.”⁷¶

The lyrics of the hymn “How Firm a Foundation” illustrates this beautifully: “How firm a foundation, ye Saints of the Lord, Is laid for your faith in his excellent word!”⁸ The foundation is not firm because it is built upon some universal law or set of abstract principles. Rather, the foundation is firm because God has made us promises, and He keeps His promises. He will never forsake us, never abandon us in our hour of need. He will always be there to rescue us, support us, strengthen us, and sanctify us.¶

When we covenant with God, we do not know all that He might ask us to do. In His wisdom, He does not tell us beforehand what trials we will be called to endure, what responsibilities and stewardships we will be given, or what habits and lifestyles we will be asked to relinquish. In fact, as faithful disciples of Christ, our path may lead through “fiery trials,” through sickness, health, poverty’s vale, or abounding wealth. We just do not know. So it is not a very safe bet—but it is certainly a good one.¶

Reframing Our Questions: Chapter 5

Idea-truth: If I truly believe in God and strive to live the gospel with exactness, why don’t I always get the blessings I expect or that were promised?¶

Person-truth: How can my hardships draw me closer to God and serve as a witness of His divine hand in my life?¶

The first question assumes that the gospel can be boiled down to a list of principles that, if carefully followed, grant us the blessings we seek from God. The question seems to presume that our relationship with God is more or less an economic one; that is, a relationship in which God has certain blessings that we desire and in order to get them from him we have to pay a certain price (i.e., obey certain commandments, etc.). While it may be true that God keeps His promises, His teachings might not be a recipe for worldly success or happiness. Unlike idea-truth, person-truth does not promise us knowledge or control of our futures. Instead, this approach suggests that what matters in life is coming to know God in personal and intimate ways, often through hardship and challenge—and, even, occasionally in the midst of God’s silence.¶

Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Joseph Smith, (Salt Lake City, UT: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 2011), 206-216. ↩
Lewis, Perelandra, 208. ↩
C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair (New York, NY: HarperCollins, 1953), 20-21. ↩
C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (New York, NY: HarperCollins, 1950), 86. ↩
Lewis, A Grief Observed, 20. ↩
Ibid., 78. ↩
Reynolds, “The Decline,” 319, emphasis added. ↩
Attributed to Robert Keen, “How Firm a Foundation,” in Hymns of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Salt Lake City, UT: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 1985), hymn #85. ↩