Gramps,

And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might. What does this mean exactly?

Kerry

Answer

Kerry,

One of the most repeated commandments in scripture is also one of the most personal:

“And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might.” (Deuteronomy 6:5)

Jesus later called this the “first and great commandment” in Matthew 22:37-38. For members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, this verse is much more than a poetic phrase. It is a description of discipleship itself. But what does it actually mean to love God with all our heart, soul, and might?

LDS theology teaches that this commandment is not about perfection overnight. It is about devotion, covenant loyalty, and gradually giving our entire lives to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.

The “heart” in scripture usually refers to our desires, affections, and priorities. Loving God with all our hearts means He becomes the center of our lives rather than an afterthought.

President Ezra Taft Benson taught:

“When we put God first, all other things fall into their proper place or drop out of our lives.”  (The Great Commandment—Love the Lord)

That statement captures the idea perfectly. Loving God with our hearts means our relationship with Him shapes every other relationship and decision. It influences how we spend our time, how we treat family members, what we choose to watch, how we speak to people, and even what we think about when nobody else is around.

This does not mean faithful people never struggle spiritually. Even devoted disciples have doubts, moments of weakness, or periods where they feel distant from God. In LDS belief, loving God is shown less through flawless performance and more through continual turning toward Him.

The Savior Himself said:

“If ye love me, keep my commandments.” (John 14:15)

In other words, love is not merely emotional. It is active. It is demonstrated through obedience, repentance, worship, and covenant keeping.

The word “soul” carries deep meaning in LDS theology. In Doctrine and Covenants 88:15, we learn:

“A the spirit and the body are the soul of man.”

So loving God with all our souls means offering our entire being—both spiritually and physically—to Him.

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland once taught:

“The great thing about the gospel is we get credit for trying, even if we don’t always succeed.”  (Tomorrow the Lord Will Do Wonders among You)

That perspective matters because loving God with all our souls does not mean never failing. It means our whole selves are pointed toward Christ, even as we continue to grow.

This kind of love affects both spiritual and temporal aspects of life. It includes:

• Prayer
• Scripture study
• Temple worship
• Serving others
• Repentance
• Developing Christlike attributes
• Caring for our physical bodies
• Using talents to bless others

LDS theology teaches that discipleship is holistic. God cares about our spiritual lives, but He also cares about what we are becoming as eternal beings.

President Russell M. Nelson explained:

“If we do the best we can, the Lord will bless us according to our deeds and the desires of our hearts.” (Perfection Pending)

That short statement resonates with many Latter-day Saints because it reminds us that wholehearted devotion matters deeply to God. He is not waiting for us to become instantly perfect before accepting our love.

The word “might” suggests strength, energy, and action. Loving God with all our might means giving Him our best efforts, not leftovers.

This can include obvious things like serving in Church callings, ministering, missionary work, or helping those in need. But it also applies to daily life: showing patience with children, working honestly, defending truth kindly, or choosing integrity when nobody is watching.

Elder David A. Bednar taught:

“True devotion to God is motivated by love and gratitude rather than fear or obligation alone.” (paraphrased)

That distinction is important. In LDS theology, loving God with all our might is not about exhausting ourselves trying to earn heaven. Salvation comes only through the grace of Jesus Christ. Rather, our efforts are a response to His love and sacrifice.

When someone truly loves God, they naturally want to serve Him.

One word appears repeatedly in this commandment: all.

God does not ask for part of our heart on Sundays and the rest during the week for worldly priorities. He invites complete devotion. That can sound intimidating at first, but LDS doctrine emphasizes that this process happens gradually through the Savior’s help.

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf said:

“God does not look on the outward appearance.” (The Hope of God’s Light)

The Lord understands our weaknesses perfectly. He knows when we are sincerely trying to follow Him, even when we stumble.

This commandment is therefore less about achieving spiritual intensity every moment of every day and more about the direction of our lives. Are we moving toward God? Are we allowing Him to shape us? Are we willing to place Him first?

That is what covenant discipleship looks like.

Interestingly, Jesus connected loving God directly to loving people. After naming the first great commandment, He immediately added:

“Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.” (Matthew 22:39)

According to LDS theology, these commandments cannot really be separated. The more we love God, the more we begin to see others the way He sees them.

President Thomas S. Monson often emphasized simple Christlike service. He famously taught:

“Never let a problem to be solved become more important than a person to be loved.” (Finding Joy in the Journey)

That kind of charity flows naturally from genuine love for God.

So what does it mean to love the Lord with all our heart, soul, and might?

In LDS theology, it means giving Him our desires, our devotion, our energy, our loyalty, and ultimately our entire lives. It means striving to place Him first while relying completely on the grace of Jesus Christ.

It does not require instant perfection. It does require sincerity.

As disciples of Christ grow in faith, repentance, covenant keeping, and service, their love for God deepens. Over time, loving God becomes less about obligation and more about transformation. The heart changes. The soul changes. Life itself changes.

And perhaps that is the real purpose of the commandment—not simply to measure our love for God, but to help us become more like Him.

Gramps

]]> https://askgramps.org/what-does-loving-god-with-all-our-heart-soul-and-mind-mean/feed/ 0 https://askgramps.org/what-mean-god-is-unchanging/ https://askgramps.org/what-mean-god-is-unchanging/#respond Wed, 11 Mar 2026 08:00:28 +0000 https://askgramps.org/?p=72252 Question

Gramps,

What does it mean when we say God is unchanging?

Sariah

Answer

Sariah,

Gramps

Gramps,

What does the Church say about those people who die because of natural disasters? And why does God allow this?

N

Answer

N,

Members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints believe that our mortal life is not meant to be a paradise devoid of difficulty; rather, it is perfectly suited to the purpose for which God intended this world. The doctrine holds that mortality is a test—a period designed by our Heavenly Father to allow His children the space and agency to develop, learn, choose, and ultimately grow to become like Him.

So why not a perfect world? A perfect, challenge-free world would not allow for agency, growth, or development. How can we be tested if there are no tests or challenges in life? Trials, adversity, suffering, and even natural disasters are not arbitrary punishments but necessary parts of the journey. Without trials or choices, humanity would be reduced to creatures of instinct, incapable of true moral agency or independent growth.

To act for ourselves and not simply to be acted upon is part of God’s higher law for His children. Scriptural passages such as Moses 6:56 and 2 Nephi 2:26 teach that humankind is free “to act for themselves and not to be acted upon.” This autonomy is part of God’s great gift to man—agency—which allows us the dignity to choose between good and evil, to respond to hardship with compassion, to rise above adversity, and to become more than mere products of circumstance.

This principle goes even further: We alone, among all of our Heavenly Father’s creations, have this unique ability to respond with knowledge and wisdom rather than instinct. We are not merely creatures of reflex.

A foundational doctrine in the Church’s faith tradition is the concept of the fallen world, stemming from Adam and Eve’s choices in the Garden of Eden. After the Fall, humankind became subject to physical death, pain, suffering, and separation from God. The consequence is a world in which both moral evil (evil choices made by humans) and natural evil (suffering from natural causes) can occur.

This fallen state is not the result of God creating or willing evil; rather, it’s the necessary environment for learning and growth. To live in a fallen world means that we have become physically and spiritually separated from our Heavenly Father and are subject to physical death and the opposition in both joy and sorrow. The Fall was a divinely orchestrated step, but the introduction of suffering and evil comes from the consequences of agency and separation from God.

Importantly, the Church teaches that our Heavenly Father is incapable of creating evil. The Book of Mormon states: “All things which are good cometh of God; and that which is evil cometh of the devil” (Moroni 7:12). God allows evil so His children can exercise their free agency, while promising comfort, eventual justice, and the compensation of all unfairness.

One reason suffering persists, even among the innocent, is the principle of agency—a divine gift that sustains all human growth and experience. Agency comes with the risk that some will choose evil over good, causing others to suffer.

But what of suffering caused by nature—earthquakes, disease, famine—where no human agency is directly involved? Here, the Church’s teachings propose that the laws of nature are a neutral framework. The world, at times, can be a very cruel place. Evil committed by fellow humans is tragic, but it’s easier to comprehend than suffering brought on by nature…If humankind had never originally rebelled, nature would be very different. There would be no natural disasters.

God often does not intervene in the natural course of physical law, for to do so would compromise the very test that mortal life is meant to be. I truly believe that He isn’t sitting on His heavenly throne orchestrating car crashes, illnesses, and so on, but He does allow certain things to happen. … The basic gospel law is free agency and eternal development. For our growth, God will not shield us from every disappointment, temptation, sorrow, or pain. To do so would rob us of the learning and empathy that adversity produces.

Paradoxically, tragedy often reveals humanity’s greatest goodness. The Church teaches that while mortality is filled with calamity, the great secret about humanity is that we alone have the power to rise above it. And if we only focus on the calamities of this world, we will never be worthy of that precious jewel that is called ‘The Human Spirit.’

When disaster strikes—whether it be earthquake, disease, or war—individuals and communities rally to offer aid, comfort, and service. The darkest events often inspire the most shining examples of love, courage, and sacrifice. As the Bible puts it, “Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world” (James 1:27).

Suffering forges empathy and builds character. It gives occasion not only for individual growth but for the exercise of community, charity, and nobility. Without need, there could be no service; without adversity, there could be no true heroism, compassion, or spiritual development. The Church’s perspective suggests that the conditions of a testing ground provoke both suffering and the opportunities for sublime responses to that suffering.

Yet the dilemma remains: what of innocent children who suffer needlessly, or people who experience seemingly random, overwhelming tragedy? The Church acknowledges the immense pain and grief these situations cause. A compassionate response is not theoretical; it is lived and felt.

For those who suffer innocently, especially children, the Church holds forth the promise of divine compensation: The innocent who suffer will be recompensed for their suffering, such that it will accrue to their good. Little children who die will inherit the glory of the celestial kingdom—a recompense far greater than the suffering that they had to endure.

Furthermore, scripture contains the Lord’s assurance: “All things wherewith you have been afflicted shall work together for your good, and to my name’s glory, saith the Lord” (Doctrine & Covenants 98:3). The belief is that present suffering, grievous as it may be, will in the eternal perspective be swallowed up in joy, understanding, and growth. Even the most senseless tragedies will find redress in God’s ultimate plan.

A common struggle is the fear that natural disasters or diseases are divine punishment. When calamity strikes, some wonder if God is angry, if the righteous and the wicked alike are subject to indiscriminate wrath.

The Brethren have not said anything about COVID being either God’s judgments on the wicked or the plagues of the Revelation of John. Historically, natural disasters have affected both the righteous and the wicked. When suffering appears indiscriminate, rather than as targeted judgment, two conclusions suggest themselves: either it is a random act of nature, or our understanding of righteousness and wickedness is incomplete.

Scripture teaches that not all suffering is punitive. In John 9:1-4, Jesus addresses a man born blind, stating that neither he nor his parents sinned, but “that the works of God should be made manifest in him.” Sometimes, suffering is permitted so that compassion, faith, and God’s purposes can ultimately be realized.

The greatest example of innocent suffering is Jesus Christ Himself. The Son of God suffered more than any of us will ever suffer.” Through His atoning sacrifice, Christ voluntarily submitted to the agony of bodily, emotional, and spiritual pain. In so doing, He demonstrated the possibility of ultimate growth, mercy, and redemption through suffering.

The promise given to disciples is not that suffering will be eliminated in this life, but that believers will not be left comfortless. For the pioneers, He strengthened the women physically by providing nourishment to their babies through them, despite the caloric demands of their walking. He strengthened them spiritually by relieving their weaknesses, which quelled the murmuring. Difficulties don’t disappear, commandments aren’t always revoked, but we can be strengthened.

May we comfort one another, deepen our faith, and seek understanding, trusting that one day, every injustice will be made right and every innocent life will be crowned with glory.

Gramps

Gramps,

Recently I have had a string of small trials that keep testing my patience and faith. At times, I have feelings that God might be punishing me for something I have done wrong or something I am not doing, but I am not sure what. Sometimes I think that during my youth, it was ingrained in me to fear God too much, and I catch myself feeling very guilty for the little mistakes I make. At times, my prayers distance me from God because I feel ashamed of my weaknesses and mistakes. Does God punish us?

Richard

Answer

Richard,

Few doctrines raise more questions than the scriptures that say we must “suffer even as [Christ]” if we do not repent (Doctrine & Covenants 19:15-20). On the one hand, God’s omnibenevolence—His perfect, fatherly love—is a bedrock tenet of Christian faith. On the other hand, scriptures declare that “wickedness never was happiness” (Alma 41:10) and describe the pain of the unrepentant in some of the most severe language in sacred scripture. Is such suffering a punishment imposed by a wrathful God, or is something deeper and more purposeful at work?

Early Christian thinkers often painted a picture of a distant, even cruel God, as Terryl and Fiona Givens, in their book The God Who Weeps: How Mormonism Makes Sense of Life observed: “Theologian Peter Abelard agreed, as have countless others, that the very behavior in which God freely indulged, treating His creatures ‘in whatever way God may wish to,’ would be ‘deemed the summit of injustice among men.’” Later, the infamous sermon “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God” likened God to one holding “you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider, or some loathsome insect over the fire, [and] abhors you.”

However, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints teaches a different view: God is not capricious or cruel, but a loving Father to whom our joy and suffering matter deeply. The Givenses write, “God is invested in our lives and happiness, because He chooses to be a Father to us. His concern with human sin is with the pain and suffering it produces. Sympathy and sorrow, not anger and vengeance, are the emotions we must look to in order to plumb the nature of the divine response to sin.”

When the scriptures speak of God’s wrath, it is typically an expression of His justice—the needed foundation for faith. If God were not just, if He didn’t reward and punish according to predictable laws, it wouldn’t matter whether we believed in Him or were obedient—we would receive from Him arbitrarily. Thankfully, God is just and reserves His wrath for those who defy Him, and pours His mercy out liberally.

Sin, then, is not simply a broken rule. It is a condition—a spiritual illness that separates us from God’s nature of joy and love. “Sin itself is a condition we assume when we place ourselves in opposition to those moral laws that undergird the structure of existence,” the Givenses explain. “The intensity of His response to sin is commensurate with the intensity of that pain He knows sin will entail, and in which He has already chosen to share. For He is the God who weeps.”

A key doctrine in the restored gospel is that punishment for sin is primarily a natural consequence, not an external imposition. The scriptures and modern prophets teach that God does not desire for us to suffer, but they also warn that if we walk off the edge of a cliff, we must fall, and if we do not turn on the light, we must sit in darkness. Suffering for unrepentant sin is the inevitable result of our choices: Being like God is being on the path of peace and happiness; any deviation leads to suffering. This is a simple consequence. Our Heavenly Father knows this. He also knows we will fall short and sin. This is why He sent Jesus Christ. This is why Christ suffered for our sins.

Punishment, then, is not a vindictive act of God, but a result of moving contrary to the eternal laws that bring joy. The commandments are the beacon lights of greater realities that define the cosmic streams in which we swim—they “lead us to a condition of optimal joyfulness. When we choose otherwise, we are then no more than a swimmer thrashing furiously, confident of our powerful strokes, but swept along nevertheless, a captive of the prevailing tides.

Doctrine & Covenants 19:15-20 clarifies that Jesus Christ suffered for all, “that they might not suffer if they would repent.” If we reject repentance, we “must suffer even as I, which suffering caused myself, even God, the greatest of all, to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore.” This suffering is not merely emotional or existential: it is a spiritual agony, a consuming recognition of having placed oneself outside the circle of divine love and harmony—what King Benjamin describes as “an awful view of their own guilt and abominations, which doth cause them to shrink from the presence of the Lord into a state of misery and endless torment.”

This brings us to the heart of the gospel: justice and mercy “cannot be robbed” (Alma 42:25). The demands of justice require that all debts incurred by sin be paid. Yet, the genius of God’s plan is that mercy allows another to pay the debt if they are able—and only Jesus Christ, because of His infinite Atonement, was able and willing to do so.

The suffering of Christ for the sins of the world was not just to satisfy an impersonal justice, but to create a way back—a ladder, a light switch, a path home. The Lord repeatedly invites all to use this atoning power, warning only that if we do not, “then justice has its full claim on us.”

The Church teaches, through both scripture and modern prophets, that no one is condemned simply because they are ignorant of the gospel or because of circumstances outside their control. All who have lived upon the face of the earth will be judged according to their works and the desires of their hearts. In essence, it is our individual choices and desires of our hearts that either redeem or condemn us. Everyone will have the opportunity to accept the gospel, in this life or the next, and to accept the terms of Christ’s offer.

Thus, it is not God who forces suffering for its own sake, but His refusal to nullify the law of agency. God has given all of us agency to act. Unfortunately, some are victims of others’ agency. Even this is accounted for perfectly in His plan: The innocent who suffer will be recompensed for their suffering, such that it will accrue to their good. Little children who are put to death will inherit the glory of the celestial kingdom—a recompense far greater than the suffering that they had to endure.

Does God weep at our sin and pain? The answer is a resounding yes. In the vision of Enoch (Moses 7), the Lord wept as He observed humanity’s suffering and hate: “His soul was grieved for the misery of Israel.” He is not a detached, disinterested deity, but hostage in some way to His limitless love. In the words of the Givenses, “Sympathy and sorrow, not anger and vengeance, are the emotions we must look to in order to plumb the nature of the divine response to sin.”

The divine solution is not to eliminate suffering at the cost of agency, but to redeem it—making it bearable, meaningful, and ultimately temporary within the scope of eternity. By suffering, we gain strength of character if we know how to bear it. We may also learn something of compassion … Thus, we may change our characters to be more Christlike.

We must trust, as mortals, that “all things wherewith you have been afflicted shall work together for your good, and to my name’s glory, saith the Lord” (Doctrine & Covenants 98:3). The Atonement assures that suffering—ours or Christ’s—will not be wasted, and that God, who weeps, is ever working to redeem and restore.

The teachings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints point to a God who both loves and honors the moral freedom of His children, who suffered Himself in the person of Christ to offer us a way out of pain, and who provides for justice and mercy in perfect harmony. To suffer for our own sins is not a punishment imposed by a capricious God, but a consequence of our own choices in refusing the healing given freely through repentance and Jesus Christ’s Atonement.

This doctrine does not trivialize pain or justify evil; instead, it invites us to trust in the process of spiritual growth, to rely on the Atonement, and to readily seek repentance. It is a clarion call not to fear God’s justice, but to embrace His mercy—a mercy that is as infinite and personal as the love of the God who weeps for us.

Gramps

Gramps,

Why does God expect faith on such a distant level, without definite interaction or proof? In every religion, faith is an absolute necessity for finding truth, which suggests that no one really has better reasoning. Even with the evidence, we’re still expected to have faith until we gain a spiritual witness, which could just be a foolish illusion based on the lies of others. Why can’t we all see an angel just once, so that for the rest of our lives we can practice our faith with a more intimate knowledge of Him? We’d still have our agency, but then we would have solid evidence.

John

Answer

John,

In the scriptures, faith is consistently described as a principle that relates to things not seen or fully known: “Faith is not to have a perfect knowledge of things; therefore if ye have faith ye hope for things which are not seen, which are true” (Alma 32:21). Similarly, Hebrews states, “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1).

Why does faith require this element of the unseen? Terryl Givens argues that for faith to be meaningful,

“There must be grounds for doubt as well as belief, in order to render the choice more truly a choice, and therefore the more deliberate, and laden with personal vulnerability and investment. An overwhelming preponderance of evidence on either side would make our choice as meaningless as would a loaded gun pointed at our heads.”

In other words, if there were no space for doubt—if either belief or skepticism were the only intellectually viable option—faith itself would cease to exist as a genuine, moral choice.

This interplay between faith and doubt is reflected in the very structure of Latter-day Saint theology. The mortal experience is designed to be a walk by faith, not by sight, a time intentionally set apart from direct knowledge of God’s presence. Our inability to see or fully prove the divine in this life is not an accident, but a central feature of God’s plan—a condition that allows the true desires of our hearts to be revealed through the choices we make.

A common struggle is the desire to eradicate doubt entirely—seeking after perfect knowledge before committing in faith. The scientific method for gaining knowledge is based on the principle of doubt… The religious method for gaining knowledge is quite the opposite. It is based on the principle of faith. We must accept the proposition as being true before the proof. We then put it into practice as though we knew it was true. If it is indeed true, it will be demonstrated to be so by our experience. As a result of that experience, we will know that it is true.

This experimental method is outlined in Alma 32, where faith is compared to planting a seed: the initial act must be based on hope and willingness, long before the fruit can be seen. Only after nurturing and experimenting upon the word does knowledge begin to replace faith. But even then, according to many leaders and thinkers, new realms of faith appear as we seek higher knowledge or face new challenges.

Even God, as understood in Latter-day Saint doctrine, is associated with both knowledge and faith—but in different senses than mortals. God’s faith is independent, the very basis of all creation, while mortals must choose trust in things they cannot yet see or prove. “Faith… is the first great governing principle which has power, dominion, and authority over all things; by it they exist, by it they are upheld, by it they are changed, or by it they remain, agreeable to the will of God. Without it, there is no power, and without power, there could be no creation nor existence!

So while mortals often struggle in the dynamic between belief and doubt, it is this very tension that fosters agency and allows faith to become an expression of the self, rather than a compelled response to irrefutable evidence.

Why does God not simply reveal Himself to all, erasing doubt and uncertainty? The answer is in the purpose of mortality. The purpose of our lives here and now is to see if we will come to God, if we will seek him and serve him, even when we can’t see or hear him. As 2 Corinthians 5:7 tells us, ‘For we walk by faith, not by sight.’ Why? The purpose seems to be to discover the true desires of our hearts.”

This mortal test is not trivial. If faith were unnecessary—if God’s reality and expectations were overwhelming and undeniable—the crucial work of nurturing a willing, loving heart would be impossible. God wants us to choose Him because our hearts and hopes align with His plan, not because the evidence simply compels us to believe. That’s not the kind of belief that God is after. That creates drones, not disciples.”

It is precisely in the ambiguity and openness of mortal experience—where both belief and doubt have rational grounds—that genuine, meaningful agency emerges. As Terryl Givens writes: “The call to faith, in this light, is not some test of a coy god, waiting to see if we ‘get it right.’ It is the only summons, issued under the only conditions, which can allow us fully to reveal who we are, what we most love, and what we most devoutly desire.”

Some Latter-day Saints find their doubts intensified by encountering diverse beliefs or spiritual witnesses among people of other faiths—sometimes just as powerful as their own experiences. How can our faith be true if people from other faiths also get spiritual confirmation regarding their religion?” is a real question with no easy one-line answer.

The Latter-day Saint perspective emphasizes that God’s love extends to all His children, answering prayers, revealing truth “line upon line,” and respecting the individual’s spiritual journey. Inspiration, revelation, and even spiritual confirmation are complex processes that coexist with opposition, human interpretation, and gradual unfolding over time.

Furthermore, leaders and theologians counsel patience in the face of unanswered questions or apparent contradictions. The fact is that in the realm of faith (which is the realm of religion), there will always be unanswered questions. Questions are an intrinsic characteristic of faith itself. If there weren’t questions, it wouldn’t be faith. God leaves room for questions so that faith can exist, and even grow. Rather than viewing doubt as a threat, members are invited to see it as the necessary soil in which living faith can grow, driving continual seeking and growth.

It is one thing to assert belief in Christ, and another to act in accordance with that belief. Passive faith is a simple statement of belief, but active faith is belief in action—repenting, loving, seeking revelation, and serving. Only in facing doubts and striving forward does faith become transformative, shaping character rather than simply affirming an intellectual stance.

Sometimes, God’s invitation to faith involves placing difficult issues “on the shelf” until more light is available. Rather than ignoring unanswered questions, this approach acknowledges that limited understanding is an inescapable feature of mortal existence—but one that allows ongoing revelation and a deeper relationship with God over time.

Gramps

Gramps,

In Exodus 19:5, why did God pick out one particular people to be especially favored above all other people?

Brad

Answer

Brad,

If you’ve ever asked these questions, you’re not alone. Generations have struggled to understand the nature of God as revealed in ancient times—especially when compared with New Testament teachings and modern revelation. So let’s talk about this challenging topic through a uniquely Latter-day Saint lens, drawing on scriptural insights, historical context, and prophetic commentary. Ultimately, we will see that understanding the God of the Old Testament requires careful attention to His purposes, His covenants, and our own relationship to Him.

The first key to understanding the God of the Old Testament is to consider the context in which these scriptures were written. The Bible—especially the books detailing the history of Israel—deals primarily with God’s relationship to the House of Israel. As pointed out in answers to questions about the severity of Old Testament narratives, much of the text is a record of God’s dealings with a covenant people who, despite great blessings, repeatedly struggled with apostasy, disobedience, and idolatry.

For instance, after the children of Israel were delivered from slavery in Egypt, they quickly turned to worshiping a golden calf while Moses was on Mount Sinai receiving the law. In response to their disobedience, Moses broke the original tablets. The people’s subsequent history is a cycle of receiving blessings, falling into idolatry, being chastened or punished, repenting, and then (temporarily) returning to God. The severity with which God is described as dealing with Israel is not arbitrary cruelty, but the necessary discipline of a people who had entered into a covenant with Him, promising obedience in return for divine favor and protection.

This is not to say God’s love was absent. Rather, as the scriptures repeatedly affirm, God’s dealings with Israel were motivated by mercy and faithfulness to the promises made with their forefathers:

For thou art an holy people unto the LORD thy God: the LORD thy God hath chosen thee to be a special people unto himself, above all people that are upon the face of the earth.

 

The Lord did not set his love upon you, nor choose you, because ye were more in number than any people; for ye were the fewest of all people:

 

But because the LORD loved you, and because he would keep the oath which he had sworn unto your fathers, hath the LORD brought you out with a mighty hand, and redeemed you out of the house of bondmen, from the hand of Pharaoh king of Egypt.” (Deuteronomy 7:6–8)

The primary focus of the Old Testament, then, is not a general treatise about the nature of God, but an account of God’s covenant dealings with a specific people—often in their moments of rebellion.

To be chosen is not a guarantee of constant blessing, nor a sign of superior personal virtue. In fact, the biblical record shows that Israel, as a nation, was repeatedly “cut off” or chastened for unfaithfulness, only to be forgiven and restored upon repentance.

Further, the privileges and blessings conferred upon Israel were designed not only for their own benefit, but so they could serve as a conduit of salvation for all mankind, culminating in the coming of Jesus Christ:

 “The house of Israel became the ministers of salvation to the Gentiles; and this is what the house of Israel was elected unto—not only their own salvation, but through them salvation unto all others; (John 4:22) ‘For salvation is of the Jews,’ (Romans 11:11-32) and ‘through their fall salvation is come unto the Gentiles.’” 

The apparent severity of God’s commands and the consequences administered to His covenant people are settings within this larger narrative: God’s determination to keep His promises, teach His people to honor their covenants, and ultimately prepare the world for the redemption offered by Christ.

From a modern perspective, stories like the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, the deaths of the firstborn in Egypt, or Israel’s conquests can appear harsh or even irreconcilable with a loving God. Yet, multiple scriptural and prophetic sources emphasize that God is both just and merciful, and His judgments are always for a redemptive purpose.

As explained in Approaching Zion,

 “…you owe it all to him. Throughout the book [of Deuteronomy], the refrain is repeated at the end of almost every pronouncement: You must do this in recognition of your dependence to God, because first and foremost he has given you your lives, he rescued you from Egypt, and he redeemed you—that is, he paid the price for you that you could not pay yourself…”

God’s discipline—often severe—is the response of a loving parent preparing His children for a holy purpose. The analogy of a parent, sometimes stern but always purposeful and loving, resonates in both ancient and modern revelation.

This view is consistent with how The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints understands the Old Testament God—not as lacking love, but as training (chastening) a rebellious people for their own benefit and, through them, for the blessing of the entire human family.

Scripture repeatedly affirms God’s merciful nature, even in the midst of describing discipline and justice:

And the Lord passed by before him, and proclaimed, The Lord, The Lord God, merciful and gracious, longsuffering, and abundant in goodness and truth,

 

Keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, and that will by no means clear the guilty; visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children, and upon the children’s children, unto the third and to the fourth generation.

(Exodus 34:6–7)

God’s chastisement is always coupled with an invitation to repent and a promise of forgiveness:

When thou art in tribulation, and all these things are come upon thee, even in the latter days, if thou turn to the Lord thy God, and shalt be obedient unto his voice;

 

 (For the Lord thy God is a merciful God;) he will not forsake thee, neither destroy thee, nor forget the covenant of thy fathers which he sware unto them.

(Deut. 4:30–31)

A uniquely Latter-day Saint insight is the realization that the Jehovah of the Old Testament is the premortal Jesus Christ himself. The personality, attributes, and mission of Christ—full of mercy, justice, and perfect love—are the same across all dispensations.

God’s actions in the Old Testament are part of the same redemptive work that culminated in the mortal ministry, atonement, and resurrection of Jesus. The Old Testament laws, sacrifices, and even sacred violence were all types and symbols pointing to the central reality of Christ’s atonement. The underlying motive—the gathering and salvation of all God’s children—is consistent across dispensations.

As Hugh Nibley observed, the process of being God’s people always involves a call to holiness, to separateness from evil, and to sacrificial obedience. The highest blessings are always tied to faithfulness and willingness to consecrate all to God:

“God has always given his people the same choice of either living up to the covenants made with him or being in Satan’s power; there is no middle ground…Progressive testing takes place along the way in either direction; the same tests in every dispensation and generation mark the progress of the people of God.” 

If you have wrestled with the “hard sayings” of the Old Testament, let it lead you—not to despair or doubt—but to deeper reflection, prayer, and study. Seek the God of Israel in all His dealings, remembering that the same hands that bore the marks of crucifixion reached out again and again in love, patience, and hope, inviting all to come unto Christ and be perfected in Him.

Gramps

Gramps,

I’m confused about the Godhead. Heavenly Father is our God, but so is Jesus? Are they both God?

Josh

Answer

Josh,

One of the most distinctive teachings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is its doctrine of the Godhead. Unlike mainstream Trinitarian Christianity, which holds that the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are three persons of one immaterial substance, the restored gospel teaches that the Father and the Son are two separate and distinct personages, though perfectly united in purpose, love, and will.

The Book of Mormon and the Bible support this distinction. For example, Jesus often prays to the Father, addressing Him as a separate being (Matthew 26:39). At Christ’s baptism, the voice of the Father is heard from Heaven while Jesus stands in the water, and the Holy Ghost descends like a dove (Luke 3:22). Christ taught, “I ascend unto my Father, and your Father; and to my God, and your God” (John 20:17), clearly distinguishing Himself from the Father. Even when scriptures seem to blend their identities, Latter-day Saint teachings clarify that these references are not meant to deny their separateness in person, but to teach something deeper about their oneness and Christ’s unique relationship to us.

It is clear, then, that the Church affirms two separate, divine personages: God the Eternal Father and His Son Jesus Christ. Yet, questions often arise when Latter-day Saints or other readers encounter scriptures that refer to Jesus as “the Father.” Consider these examples:

Isaiah 9:6 (also rendered in 2 Nephi 19:6 in the Book of Mormon): “And his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.”

Ether 3:14 (Book of Mormon): “Behold, I am he who was prepared from the foundation of the world to redeem my people. Behold, I am Jesus Christ. I am the Father and the Son. In me shall all mankind have life, and that eternally, even they who shall believe on my name; and they shall become my sons and my daughters.”

Mosiah 15:2–4 (Book of Mormon): “[Christ,] being the Father and the Son—The Father, because he was conceived by the power of God; and the Son, because of the flesh; thus becoming the Father and Son—And they are one God, yea, the very Eternal Father of heaven and of earth.”

Why do these passages call Jesus “the Father,” and how do Latter-day Saints harmonize this with belief in two separate divine beings? The answer lies in the unique roles Christ fulfills. Scriptural and prophetic explanations describe three senses in which Jesus rightfully bears the title “the Father”:

Jesus Christ perfectly represents the Father to humankind. As the authorized representative (to use legal language, “the power of attorney”), He acts and speaks for the Father so completely that His words are the Father’s words and His actions are the Father’s will. This is known in Latter-day Saint theology as the “Divine Investiture of Authority.” Elder James E. Talmage described it this way:

“Our Father in Heaven has allowed Jesus to speak to various prophets as if he were the Father. In the legal profession, this is a well-understood practice referred to as the ‘power of attorney.’ Jesus stated, ‘I am come in my Father’s name.’” (See James E. Talmage, Articles of Faith, Appendix 2, p. 470.)

Elder Bruce R. McConkie affirmed, “Most scriptures that speak of God or the Lord do not even bother to distinguish the Father from the Son, simply because it doesn’t make any difference which God is involved. They are one. The words or deeds of either of them would be the words and deeds of the other in the same circumstance.” Thus, when Jesus is called the “Father,” it is often in His role as the perfect stand-in for the Father, reflecting their absolute unity of purpose.

The scriptures teach that Jesus Christ is the Creator under the direction of God the Father. The Gospel of John proclaims, “All things were made by him [the Word]; and without him was not anything made that was made” (John 1:3). Since, as Creator, He is the father of heaven and earth, He can be referred to as “the Father” in this specific sense.

Perhaps the most intimate way in which Christ is “the Father” refers to our relationship with Him through the new birth of the gospel covenant. When we accept Christ and are baptized, we are “born again”—spiritually begotten of Christ. King Benjamin in the Book of Mormon taught those who entered into a covenant to follow God, “because of the covenant which ye have made ye shall be called the children of Christ, his sons, and his daughters; for behold, this day he hath spiritually begotten you; for ye say that your hearts are changed through faith on his name; therefore, ye are born of him and have become his sons and his daughters” (Mosiah 5:7). As the author of our salvation and the one whose atoning sacrifice makes possible our spiritual transformation, Christ becomes, in a very real sense, our spiritual Father.

The charge is sometimes made—by readers or even by critics—that Latter-day Saint scripture is confusing because it, at times, seems to conflate the identities of the Father and the Son. This is especially so with phrases like “one God.” However, careful reading and additional revelation clarify that the oneness spoken of is not a oneness of substance or person, but a unity in attributes, purpose, mind, and love. Jesus Himself prayed “that [His disciples] may be one, as we are” (John 17:11), expressing the aspiration that we too should unify our will with His and the Father’s—not that we become the same being.

The Book of Mormon, which is sometimes criticized for its references to the Father and Son as “one God,” actually clarifies this doctrine better than many traditional readings of the Bible. For example, Abinadi in Mosiah 15 explains that Christ is both the Father and the Son because he “was conceived by the power of God” (thus, the Father) and “because of the flesh”—thus becoming the Son. The two roles are unified in the mission and work of Christ, but this does not mean that God the Father and Jesus Christ are the same individual. Rather, they are one in mind, mission, and love.

Given Jesus’ divine status and work as our Savior and Redeemer—indeed, as “God the Son”—should He be worshipped in the same manner as God the Father? Do members of the Church direct prayers to both God the Father and Jesus Christ? This is an important practical and doctrinal issue.

Latter-day Saint doctrine teaches that ultimate worship—especially prayer—is directed to God the Father, in the name of Jesus Christ. This pattern is based upon Christ’s own teachings. He directed His disciples to pray, “Our Father which art in heaven” (Matthew 6:9), and similar instructions were given to the Nephites (see 3 Nephi 13:5–13). Even when the resurrected Lord appeared personally, He explained that prayer was directed to Him only because He was present in their midst (3 Nephi 19:22), and that the established pattern remains to pray to the Father in the name of the Son.

This does not mean that Jesus Christ is not worshipped, revered, or honored. Latter-day Saints worship Christ for His role as Savior and Redeemer. Worship, in the sense of expressing love, gratitude, and awe, absolutely encompasses Jesus. We worship Christ for His role as our Savior and Redeemer. We do not worship Christ through prayer, but rather through an ongoing effort to embody His teachings and to follow His example. We revere, honor, and express our gratitude to Him through the Sacrament (which sounds a lot like worship to me). But above all else, we worship God the Father for His divine plan and His role as our Eternal Father.

Thus, while public and personal prayer is reserved for God the Eternal Father, worship in a broader sense encompasses both the Father and the Son, each for their respective roles.

Another distinctive doctrine in the Latter-day Saint tradition impacts the question of divine fatherhood: the belief that God the Father was once as we are, and that we—even as mortals—can, through Christ, become “heirs of God and joint-heirs with Christ” (Romans 8:17), inheriting all that He has and becoming like Him. This is not to say that we will supplant or be equal to God, but rather that the relationship of loving Father to child is extended and even magnified throughout all eternity.

This understanding shapes worship practices, the concept of the divine family, and the relationship between Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and all faithful followers. God the Father still maintains His paternal relationship with His exalted children. If anything, this relationship is amplified as it is strengthened through covenant keeping, as Joseph Smith taught.

To deepen your understanding, study the scriptures and modern prophets, and seek personal revelation—trusting that, as you do, the loving and personal nature of God’s fatherhood will become ever more real.

Gramps

Gramps,

Why does God not make this world perfect?

Owen

Answer

Owen,

It is natural, even essential, to ask: “If God really created and designed this world, would He not have made it perfect? Why, then, do we experience natural disasters and suffering? Is God making this happen and making us suffer on purpose?” These are not new questions; they have accompanied believers from antiquity through the modern era, from the words of Job to the outcries of contemporary believers facing earthquakes, famine, or the unfathomable grief of losing a child.

At the heart of the question lies a tension between God’s perfection and the manifest imperfection of our world. Is God powerless to change things, unwilling, or do we lack the perspective to understand His wider plan? Elder Jeffrey R. Holland once said in his talk “Like a Broken Vessel” that struggling with suffering and injustice is not a sign of weak faith, but can be the crucible in which faith is forged.

Let us examine why, according to the teachings and reasoning of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, God allows suffering at all.

A foundational principle in the doctrine of the Church is that this life is a time of testing, growth, and agency. Far from being a random sequence of events, or a “mistake” on God’s part, the challenges, risks, and tragedies of mortality are inseparable from our reason for being here.

The scriptural narrative consistently frames earthly life as a period where our capacity for growth hinges on our ability to choose—a principle often referred to as agency. As taught in the Pearl of Great Price:

And it is given unto them to know good from evil; wherefore they are agents unto themselves…” (Moses 6:56)

God has granted us the unique capacity to “act for themselves and not to be acted upon” (2 Nephi 2:26). In other words, humans are not designed merely to react like animals to outside stimuli, but to choose, reflect, and develop character. Without opposition, hardship, or temptation, this ability would never be exercised, much less refined.

If God’s goal were to create cushioned, untested followers, He could have sheltered us from all harm and made adversity impossible. Instead, this world with all its imperfections is indeed ‘perfectly suited’ for the purpose for which God intended this world to be.

This is not to suggest suffering is good in and of itself, or that God delights in our pain. Rather, hardship can forge unique virtues:

Compassion and Service: In the wake of tragedies like earthquakes or wildfires, we often see an outpouring of helping hands and donations, a testament to the “human spirit” that is only forged in adversity.

Endurance and Faith: The Apostle Paul, ancient prophets, and even Jesus Christ—who “suffered more than any of us will ever suffer”—testified that opposition can cultivate patience, resilience, and a kind of spiritual depth unattainable in comfort.

The Church teaches that to remove suffering would also undermine the very purpose of creation. President Spencer W. Kimball explained:

Could the Lord have prevented these tragedies? The answer is, Yes… But he will not. We should be able to understand this, because we can realize how unwise it would be for us to shield our children from all effort, from disappointments, temptations, sorrows, and suffering. The basic gospel law is free agency and eternal development. To force us to be careful or righteous would… make growth impossible.

Thus, suffering is not a design flaw or evidence of God’s indifference. It is essential to the plan that allows us to become not just obedient, but wise, compassionate, and reflective souls—fit for the eternal joys God promises.

No discussion of suffering is complete without addressing the heartbreaking reality of innocent suffering—especially that of children. How can a loving God allow the innocent, who have little or no agency in their circumstances, to endure pain, illness, and early death?

It is deeply humbling to acknowledge that our perspective is limited. We see “through a glass darkly” (1 Corinthians 13:12). What appears deficient or unfair in this life may look different in the context of eternity.

The Pre-Earth Life and Consent to Mortal Risk: One insight from Church doctrine is the idea that “if we were involved in the deliberations that culminated in creating and peopling this world, then we are not passive victims of providence. We would have entered into the conditions of this mortal state aware of the harrowing hazards mortality entails.” This means our spirits knew and accepted the risks because the rewards—growth, love, and eventual resurrection—would outweigh temporary suffering.

Recompense to the Innocent: The doctrine is clear that children who die before moral accountability are redeemed and inherit glory in the celestial kingdom—a “recompense far greater than the suffering that they had to endure.” All who suffer unjustly “will be recompensed for their suffering, such that it will accrue to their good.”

The Gift of Agency is central, but it bears a sobering reality: others can, and do, use their agency to hurt the innocent. Crimes like abuse, murder, or neglect are not willed by God but permitted so that agency may be preserved. To prevent all evil would require stripping agency from all. As heart-wrenching as this is, the Church teaches that “if God were to intervene and prevent all bad things from happening, he would have to rob men of their agency and thus frustrate the great plan of happiness.”

God’s justice matches His mercy. Those who inflict suffering unjustly are subject to repentance or the full price to “the demands of an eternal justice for all their wrongdoing.” Meanwhile, God provides healing, peace, and—ultimately—redemption to those who have suffered. As scripture promises:

All things wherewith you have been afflicted shall work together for your good, and to my name’s glory, saith the Lord. (Doctrine & Covenants 98:3)

Not all face the same tests. Some live long, comfortable lives; others endure hardship or die young. The Church acknowledges that God’s plan is not “fair” in the sense of identical experiences but is “perfectly tailored” for each individual’s growth and salvation. Our call is not only to endure our trials but to trust that God will use them for our eternal good—even when that purpose feels mysterious or absent in the moment.

God does not always remove trials but provides resources, answers, and comfort. “He also will not relieve us of the burden of His commands. Comfortingly, it is evident that He is capable of strengthening us to the tasks assigned.” Lehi’s family, for example, were not rescued from the wilderness but strengthened to bear it, and “the Lord provided means for us while we did sojourn in the wilderness.”

Gramps

Gramps,

Why did the Lord confound the language?

Karen

Answer

Karen,

The question of language in the afterlife is intricately bound to how language began. According to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, when Adam and Eve were placed on earth, they were given a unique means of communication. The Pearl of Great Price states:

“And a book of remembrance was kept, in the which was recorded, in the language of Adam, for it was given unto as many as called upon God to write by the spirit of inspiration… their children were taught to read and write, having a language which was pure and undefiled” (Moses 6:5-6).

Thus, Adam’s language was considered both divine in origin and untainted by corruption or confusion. This “pure language” was believed to be universally transmitted among Adam’s descendants until the event at the Tower of Babel. Here lies a key foundation: the earliest faithful on earth communicated through a single, inspired language.

The Book of Genesis and the Book of Mormon both recount the event at Babel, when God intervened to confound the people’s language and scatter them across the earth. But there’s a lesser-known exception captured in the Book of Ether—a group who retained Adam’s original language.

As explained by Hugh Nibley, prominent Latter-day Saint scholar, the Book of Ether depicts “the uprooting and scattering… not merely family groups but groups of friends and associates.” Notably, “there was no point in having Jared’s language unconfounded if there was to be no one he could talk to, and his brother cried to the Lord that his friends might also retain the language.” God granted this request, allowing Jared, his brother, and their associates to retain the pure language while others were “confounded”—a process not just of introducing new languages but of altering the meanings within groups.

This exception shows the significance the Church places on a divinely appointed, uncorrupted language—and foreshadows the possibility that, in heaven, such a language will again be universal.

Who were these people granted the extraordinary blessing of retaining the Adamic language? The Jaredites, as the Book of Ether recounts, were led away from Babylon and given the privilege to “not be confounded” in their speech. They journeyed to a new land, preserving this form of celestial speech for generations:

“There was one exception to that confounding of tongues. It can be found in the Book of Ether, one of the books of the Book of Mormon, wherein we learn that two families, those of Jared and his brother, Mohonri Moriancumer, and all their friends, were all granted the blessing of retaining, as their own, the pure and undefiled language given to Adam.”

The result? A record written on gold plates in the Adamic tongue that, if translated, would fill a thousand pages of English. “So the written language of Adam was a very powerful writing form.”

This provides an indirect answer to modern speculation about the “heavenly tongue”: the language closest to the Divine on earth was spoken by Adam, then by the Jaredites, and was marked by clarity, power, and purity.

With the rise of global missionary work, sometimes tongue-in-cheek assertions circulate—such as the rumor that “the language of the Celestial Kingdom is Spanish.” However, as answered by Church sources:

“Now that should give you some idea of what languages are NOT the language of the Celestial Kingdom.”

The tongue of Adam, not one of the currently spoken world languages, is described in revelation and tradition as the most likely candidate for celestial communication.

Hugh Nibley carefully explains that the scriptural language around Babel shows that confounding tongues was not just about inventing new languages, but about “having words that are actually ours change their meaning among us.” In context, this confounding separated peoples culturally and linguistically—not just through incomprehensible shouts, but by the gradual loss of common understanding.

Nibley further unpacks that the “whole earth” being “of one language and one speech” may more narrowly refer to a known region or people, not necessarily the entire globe, opening up for interpretive nuance in what is often a literalized passage.

Continuing revelation holds out the hope for a future reunification of speech. Zephaniah 3:9, for example, prophesies: “For then will I turn to the people a pure language, that they may all call upon the name of the Lord, to serve him with one consent.”

Many leaders of the Church have referenced this prophecy as a glimpse of what’s to come—a return to Adamic language or a “pure language” in the hereafter.

The pattern is clear: whenever God’s people are united in purpose and righteousness, a common tongue emerges. According to Nibley, “the confounding of people is not to be separated from the confounding of their languages; they are, and have always been, one and the same process: the Lord, we are told…‘did not confound the language of Jared; and Jared and his brother were not confounded…’” Language, in this sense, is inseparable from unity of heart and mind—a reflection of celestial harmony.

The present reality for members of The Church is one of rich linguistic diversity, as reflected in the worldwide spread of the faith. The gift of tongues, as practiced by early Saints, is a reminder that God values our efforts to reach one another across barriers, just as He will ultimately unite His children in a common tongue.

Nibley’s insights invite humility in the face of linguistic confusion—“there is nothing said in our text about every man suddenly speaking a new language. We are told…that languages were confounded with and by the ‘confounding’ of the people.” The breakdown of communication, then, is symbolic of the broader human tendency to misunderstand and to divide. The restoration of a pure language is, at heart, the restoration of perfect divine understanding.

Gramps

Gramps,

Who are the Lord’s anointed?

Jon

Answer

Jon,

In ancient Israel, anointing was a tangible ritual. Priests and kings received a ceremonial outpouring of oil to set them apart for sacred service. Exodus records the instruction: “And thou shalt put upon Aaron the holy garments, and anoint him, and sanctify him; that he may minister unto me in the priest’s office” (Exodus 40:12-14). The oil was not merely symbolic; it marked one as consecrated for God’s work.

The classic example is the anointing of King Saul and later David by Samuel. Even as Saul lost favor with the Lord, David refused to harm him, echoing repeatedly, “I would not stretch forth mine hand against the Lord’s anointed” (see 1 Samuel 26). To David, the anointing itself carried such weight that, even when the anointed king faltered, the office and promise remained sacred until God Himself intervened.

Prophets, too, were regarded as “anointed.” Psalms 105:14-15 notes both kings and prophets as a distinct, honored class among the people. The same type of divine setting apart that applied to David as king also marked out individuals as bearers of God’s word.

Beyond its ritual elements, anointing also carried deep Messianic significance. The Hebrew “mashiach” (Messiah) means “anointed one,” pointing forward to Christ, whose saving role had been prophesied for centuries. Psalms and the prophets themselves began to connect earthly anointed leaders with the future, ultimate Redeemer—the Anointed One sent to deliver all mankind.

Christians recognize Jesus Christ as “the anointed of the Father,” set apart before the world’s foundation to redeem humankind (see Isaiah 61:1–3; Luke 4:16–22; Acts 4:27; Acts 10:38). His perfect consecration and sinlessness fulfilled all the types and shadows of earlier anointings. Orthodox Christian tradition and scriptures see Him as the ultimate “Christos”—the literal anointed king, priest, and prophet.

This lineage continues in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, which teaches that anointings continue to set individuals apart for divine purposes:

1.  Modern prophets, apostles, and even local leaders are recognized as “the Lord’s anointed” in the sense that they receive divine callings and the laying on of hands. Doctrine and Covenants 121:16 and 135:3 both emphasize sustaining and respecting those called by God, even while acknowledging their human fallibility.

2. The definition of “anointed” broadens further in Latter-day Saint teaching. Any member who participates in temple ordinances, including anointings, is set apart and made holy—literally, a “saint,” or one who is dedicated and set apart for God’s purposes. This echoes the early Christian sense that the righteous, by virtue of their faith and sanctification, become bearers of God’s name and glory.

The Church also instructs members to support inspired leaders, understanding that, though mortal, they are called and anointed to guide the Church. As history shows, “God has called upon and worked through prophets to convey revelation…yet prophets are mortal beings who make mistakes and perceive things through their own experiences. …Despite these human limitations, we are asked to support and sustain the inspired leaders that God has appointed.”

Ancient liturgies, Christian visions, and Latter-day Saint ritual all point toward a vast divine pattern in which God anoints those who will lead, guide, and—ultimately—serve.

Within The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, physical anointing has carried through to modern times, especially within temple worship and priesthood blessings.

Temple ceremonies continue the ancient practices of washing, anointing, and clothing with sacred purpose. In Exodus, these were reserved for priests; today, every worthy member receives initiatory ordinances as part of their temple worship. The second anointing, a less common and more sacred ordinance, “fulfills some of the blessings promised in the first anointing” and is closely connected to promises of exaltation.

Accounts from Church history describe temple second anointings wherein men are ordained as “kings and priests” and women as “queens and priestesses.” This echoes biblical references to kingship and priesthood as rewards for faithfulness—not just for a chosen few, but potentially for all who attain the highest blessings of the gospel. Policies governing this ordinance have changed over time, but the key principle remains: to be anointed signifies not only authority but also responsibility to lead in righteousness, emulate Christ, and serve others.

Anointing is also intrinsic to priesthood blessings for the sick. Following the New Testament pattern (James 5:14-15), Church members regularly administer healing blessings with oil, accompanied by faith and the sealing of the anointing by Melchizedek Priesthood authority. Such anointings reflect the enduring belief that God’s power works through His servants in tangible, compassionate ways.

Ultimately, the concept of “anointed” extends to all who seek redemption in Christ. Through personal sanctification—made holy by faith, repentance, and dedicated living—saints participate in the very meaning of anointing. Rabbi Johanan’s observation, citing Isaiah 43:7, that the righteous are destined to share in God’s glory and name, resonates strongly with Latter-day Saint theology: that through Christ, all may become heirs, “called by my name, …that he should also share my glory.”

Perhaps the most enduring lesson about the Lord’s anointed comes from David’s respect for Saul. Despite Saul’s unworthiness, David honored the office and the Lord’s choice, trusting that God would act in His own time. As I explained in another Q&A, “Rather than honoring Saul, it seems that David honored the office of king of the people for which Saul had been anointed by a servant of the Lord. …The Lord is in control of His kingdom. Saul suffered the consequences of his own iniquity, and the Lord removed him from office in his own way and in his own time. How appropriate it is for us to follow David’s example and love and sustain those who preside over us as long as they remain in the office of their callings.”

This principle shapes the Church’s teachings on sustaining leaders. Members are asked to support and pray for those called over them, recognizing both the divine call and the human imperfections of the anointed.

Gramps

Dear Gramps,

How does the Lord soften the hearts of men ( as often referenced in the Book of Mormon) without interfering with their agency?

Chelsea

Answer

At the core of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints’ doctrine is agency—often termed “moral agency.” Moral agency doesn’t mean that we are free to do whatever we please, but rather it is the divinely granted ability to choose good or evil and to be held accountable for our choices.

Agency also does not mean that we are free from all influence. We are constantly subject to powerful pulls and persuasions—both divine and worldly. The Book of Mormon teaches that we are “free to choose liberty and eternal life, through the great Mediator of all men, or to choose captivity and death, according to the captivity and power of the devil.” (2 Nephi 2:27) Thus, while surrounded by influences, we alone are responsible for our choices. Brigham Young said this about the subject:

“You are aware that many think that the Devil has rule and power over both body and spirit. Now, I want to tell you that he does not hold any power over man, only so far as the body overcomes the spirit that is in a man, through yielding to the spirit of evil. The spirit that the Lord puts into a tabernacle of flesh, is under the dictation of the Lord Almighty; but the spirit and body are united in order that the spirit may have a tabernacle, and be exalted; and the spirit is influenced by the body, and the body by the spirit.

 

“In the first place the spirit is pure, and under the special control and influence of the Lord, but the body is of the earth, and is subject to the power of the Devil, and is under the mighty influence of that fallen nature that is of the earth. If the spirit yields to the body, the Devil then has power to overcome the body and spirit of that man, and he loses both.

 

“Recollect, brethren and sisters, every one of you, that when evil is suggested to you, when it arises in your hearts, it is through the temporal organization. When you are tempted, buffeted, and step out of the way inadvertently; when you are overtaken in a fault, or commit an overt act unthinkingly; when you are full of evil passion, and wish to yield to it, then stop and let the spirit, which God has put into your tabernacles, take the lead. If you do that, I will promise that you will overcome all evil, and obtain eternal lives. But many, very many, let the spirit yield to the body, and are overcome and destroyed.” (Discourses of Brigham Young, p. 69-70 as taken from the Book of Mormon Student Manual, 1981 ed., p. 73-4)

God’s respect for moral agency also shapes how He interacts with us. As explained in the Doctrine and Covenants: “No power or influence can or ought to be maintained by virtue of the priesthood, only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned” (D&C 121:41). God will call, persuade, direct, and bless with wisdom and light, but He will never force the human mind. In this pattern, even the compelling experiences of visions, visitations, or dramatic divine interventions never take away the individual’s agency to choose how to respond.

Vaughn J. Featherstone said:

Gentleness is a word the Lord uses to describe a necessary trait for one who would use the priesthood. Usually we think of gentleness as a womanly trait. Gentleness is inoffensive, is kind, and has a softening way about it. Think of a gentle touch until you can almost feel it. In leadership, often a gentle touch creates discipleship whereas an iron hand creates rebellion. When we perform the ordinances of the priesthood-such as administering to the sick, giving blessings, ordaining or setting apart, baptizing, or preparing the sacrament-physical and spiritual gentleness is always called for.

 

Meekness is equally necessary. Those who are meek are absolutely submissive to God. They are teachable and have humble hearts. They are modest in their dress, speech, and service. The meek readily take on the servant-leader role. Righteousness and wisdom may come from any source, even from the lowliest among those whom they lead, and the meek acknowledge and accept it. Meekness causes us to focus on principles, that is, what is right and not who is most influential. The meek feel no need to receive credit; rather they desire to give it to those who may need it.

 

Love unfeigned suggests genuineness. There is no deceit, ploy, self-serving, spurious attitude in the person whose love is unfeigned. This is the type of love leaders must have. Those who exercise unfeigned love are authentic, genuine, natural, sincere, and honest. They do not flatter, nor do they distort. They are, as someone has said, “all wool and a yard wide.”

 

To be a leader with unfeigned love has such great consequences that becoming one is in itself a supreme motivator. The Savior represented this principle in every act. Such love is a rare quality even in the Church, but it is indispensable to righteously functioning in the priesthood. (The Incomparable Christ: Our Master and Model [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1995], 127

For example, when the angel appeared to Alma the Younger, the resulting change was not from compulsion but was a direct answer to the prayers of Alma’s father and others, while still preserving Alma’s freedom to choose how to respond—just as Laman and Lemuel encountered an angel but did not ultimately choose faithfulness.

If God will not force a change of heart, how then does genuine—and often profound—internal transformation occur? The answer lies in the gospel process of faith in Jesus Christ, sincere repentance, and the influence of the Holy Spirit.

The Book of Mormon and modern prophets alike teach that a true “change of heart” comes when someone turns from worldliness to godliness through this process. As Samuel the Lamanite declared, “faith and repentance bring a change of heart” (Helaman 15:7–8). Steps on this path include:

1. Exposure to the teachings of Christ, the scriptures, and the influence of the Holy Spirit invites an individual to reconsider their current state and desires.

2.  As people choose to believe—however tentatively—this opens a door for greater light and understanding.

3. Turning away from sin and sincerely striving to align one’s life with Christ allows the healing power of the Atonement to begin to work within.

4. Over time, persistent faith and repentance lead to sanctification—old temptations lose their power and former sins become repugnant rather than appealing.

It is crucial to recognize that, contrary to what some might suppose, this process does not happen instantly, nor does it completely erase all tendencies toward sin.

As President Ezra Taft Benson famously said: “When you choose to follow Christ, you choose to be changed…The Lord works from the inside out. The world works from the outside in. The world would take people out of the slums. Christ takes the slums out of people, and then they take themselves out of the slums. …The world would shape human behavior, but Christ can change human nature.

The Atonement of Jesus Christ is the supreme enabler of changed hearts, for it is only through His sacrifice, love, and grace that the miracle of transformation occurs. As the Book of Mormon states, Christ “will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people. … He will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities” (Alma 7:11-12). Only such love—unconditional, personal, and far-reaching—can motivate lasting repentance and soften the most stubborn hearts.

Scriptures and history provide many powerful illustrations of this principle. Alma the Elder’s years of prayers for his rebellious son ultimately resulted in a visit from an angel, but Alma the Younger still had to choose, as all do, whether to accept or reject the invitation to change. Similarly, Saul’s dramatic encounter on the road to Damascus left him with increased knowledge and a stark choice—but he still freely decided to follow the Savior.

Influence is not compulsion. God may remove obstacles or provide opportunities, but ultimate responsibility for choices remains with the individual. The same is true in how God delivers people from bondage or removes evil from oppressive situations. He may change the conditions or curtail the action, but each person’s agency remains untouched. As long as there is an opportunity to be “enticed by opposites,” true moral agency is respected.

Gramps

Gramps,

I am a bit confused about understanding whether the Prophet Joseph Smith saw the Father and the Son with his Spiritual eyes or with his natural eyes. (Mormon Doctrine: First Vision) “In it Joseph Smith saw and conversed with the Father and the Son,  both of which exalted personages were personally present before him as he lay enwrapped in the spirit and overshadowed by the Holy Ghost.” Would you please help me get an answer to this question? Thank you very much.

Edwin

Answer

Edwin,

I often hear this question because people mean different things when they say “spiritual eyes.”  And in different circumstances, they can, indeed, mean different things.

For the First Vision, we need to understand that seeing the Father and the Son “in the natural man” (i.e., as mortal flesh) wouldn’t allow us to abide their presence, such is their glory.

However, we have a belief in a principle known as transfiguration.  This simply means that the Lord has be ability to exalt our bodies to withstand His presence temporarily.

(Moses) saw God face to face, and he talked with him, and the glory of God was upon Moses; therefore Moses could endure his presence” (Moses 1:2)

To NOT have permission could mean death to our physical bodies.

And the Lord said unto Moses, Speak unto Aaron thy brother, that he come not at all times into the holy place within the veil before the mercy seat, which is upon the ark; that he die not: for I will appear in the cloud upon the mercy seat. (Leviticus 16:2)

Such transfiguration occurred during the First Vision.  So, he certainly saw them with “physical eyes.”  But they had to be elevated for him to withstand their glory.

In such a theophany, one could say that transfiguration allowed one to see with eyes that were altered spiritually.  Thus, it may be acceptable to call them spiritual eyes.  But that gives people the impression that he just “imagined it in his head.”  Such was NOT the case.

We must understand that spiritual eyes do not automatically exclude physical eyes.

(People like the Brother of Jared) truly saw with their eyes the things they had beheld with an eye of faith” (Ether 12:19)

In private testimony to family, Joseph spoke of how he could not initially see the Father and Son directly because of their glory.  He just saw two “figures.” He calls them “personages” in the JSH account.  Then one of them physically touched his eyes, and he could see clearly what they looked like.  And then they had the conversation that we read of in the Pearl of Great Price.

Many people have tried to take certain phrases in certain circumstances and make them appear as if he imagined it all.  They even go so far as to say that the three witnesses (and the 8 witnesses, as well) were hypnotized into believing they saw something that they didn’t see.  The problem with that is how many times they all clarified such visions and witnesses.  There was no delusion.  There was no imagination.  There was no deception.  They did all physically see what they said they saw.

Of course we were in the Spirit when we had the view, for no man can behold the face of an angel, except in a spiritual view. But we were in the body also, and everything was as natural to us, as it is at any time. – David Whitmer to Anthony Metcalfe, 2 April 1887, in Vogel, Early Mormon Documents, 5:193

 

I was not under any hallucination, nor was I deceived!  I saw with these eyes and I heard with these ears!  I know whereof I speak! – David Whitmer

 

My eyes saw, my ears heard, and my understanding was touched, and I know that whereof I testified is true.  It was no dream, no vain imagination of the mind — it was real. – Oliver Cowdery

 

The Book of Mormon is no fake. I know what I know. I have seen what I have seen, and I have heard what I have heard. I have seen the gold plates from which the Book of Mormon is written. An angel appeared to me and others and testified to the truthfulness of the record, and had I been willing to have perjured myself and sworn falsely to the testimony I now bear, I could have been a rich man. But I could not have testified other than I have done and am now doing, for these things are true. – Martin Harris, Deathbed testimony.

None of them made any statement that they didn’t see what they saw.  They simply made an acknowledgement that some things are not permitted to be seen without divine permission and edification.

Gramps