The Mormon Mirage: A Former Member Looks at the Mormon Church Today

Preface:

FROM MIRAGE TO REALITY

The callow chestnut of Mormonism that says if you want to know about Fords, then you don’t ask a Chevrolet dealer, and if you want to know about Mormonism, then don’t ask a non-Mormon, is both wrong and lacks critical judgment. Groups like Consumer Reports prove their maxim false. Some of the best information comes from outside investigation (like Ford’s exploding Pinto gas tank), which outside information can be life-saving.

—Kurt Van Gorden¹

In the preface in previous editions of this book I recounted how I once lived Mormonism fully, responsibly, and joyfully. I never was (nor ever will be) perfect, but I was a good, faithful Mormon. Finding out that Mormonism wasn’t true was not initially a liberating experience. It was soul ravaging and sickening. I will never completely recover from it.

I am middle aged now. The day approaches when I will go before my God and give account for what I’ve said, done, and written. I ponder the fact that though the original publishing of this book ceased some years ago, scarcely a week goes by that I don’t get requests for copies of it. Many, many other books on the same subject have been published, and to counter them, LDS apologists use sophisticated and complex arguments to support the Book of Mormon, Joseph Smith, and the superstructure of a church based on them.

I wrote this book for regular people, not scholars, and as I have revised it for a new century, I have done so with the first aim of updating my statements about Mormonism that are no longer true—because Mormonism itself has changed.

Part One of this edition is a replication of the reasons why I left Mormonism—with updated sources for the information on which I based that decision, and new resources that validate those original sources and decisions. In some cases I have left in the text some statements that reflect how I felt, just a few years out of Mormonism, even though I might not state it that way now.

We are witnessing the sea change of Mormonism. As a result of doctrinal changes, the LDS Church is in the midst of a significant but invisible split into two camps. One group of both scholars and regular members still believe and treasure the doctrines I loved when I was a Mormon. Many of them see the second group as syncretistic and postmodern, abandoning the uniqueness of a faith that is based on continuous and reliable revelation. Those of the first group are struggling with the Church’s new insistence that the prophets of the past should be discounted when their official (even thus-saith-the-Lord) teachings disagree with twenty-first-century pronouncements. The second group looks for acceptance from—and sometimes even fellowship with—Christians, with immunity from questions about the past. Many in the second group refer to criticisms of traditional Mormonism as straw-man arguments that are no longer viable.

Since one sociologist of religion has estimated that at any given moment, the majority of Latter-day Saints are first-generation converts² (that is, people who would have no ancestral ties to Mormonism and who would see its past quite differently from the descendants of handcart pioneers, for example), these differences are far beyond superficial. I have attempted in this book to provide thoughtful, researchable material for both groups even though they themselves have increasingly less common ground between them.

If at all possible, look up references that are footnoted in this book. I have written this book for the Internet generation with clickable footnotes. Additionally, the reader can go to Jerald and Sandra Tanner’s site, www.utlm. org, and search for the subject matter among the wealth of documents and photographs of documents there. For printed books from which I quote, I have attempted to use only those which are accessible at the time of the writing of this book. I have directed special attention to those written at a layman’s level and by both Mormon and ex-Mormon scholars and researchers. I hope to provide updates of information on my website, www.latayne.com.

Part Two of this book is all-new material. With the vantage point of years away from Mormonism—and yet as a more-than-disinterested observer—I have outlined nine issues and challenges the LDS Church currently faces. In a final chapter I provide a personal retrospective that might make Mormons, Christian friends, and even my closest associates a bit uncomfortable, a perspective via representational theology, and some final assessments.

My reasons for leaving the LDS Church were then, and are now, quite simple. They don’t really have much to do with archaeological findings (nor with the absence of them). Nor do they have to do, so much, with the false prophecies, suppressed history, and constantly changing doctrine of the Mormonism of the past.

Its claims that it is a gospel different from traditional Christianity remain unchallenged. No matter how you dress it up or water it down, Mormonism is not Christianity. Jesus Christ promised that the gates of hell would not prevail against the church he founded—it could not be taken from the earth for 1,700 years.

The once-human, fleshly god of Mormonism is not the Almighty God of the Bible. And none of us will ever become a god. There is only One.

To him alone, who is worthy, be all praise and glory.

PART ONE

Chapter 1

A GENTLE APOSTASY

Every Mormon, when he or she is about twelve years old, has the opportunity to go before a man of the LDS community who is revered for his wisdom and experience to receive a patriarchal blessing. I was about thirteen when I went before Garland F. Bushman, the patriarch of the stake, or region, in which I lived. Patriarch Bushman placed his hands on my head and said:

In the preexistence, you were one of the choice souls of heaven noted by Father Abraham. Your ancestors were noble people, of the tribe of Ephraim. You yourself have a great destiny—to become a leader of women in the church and in the state where you will reside. You will meet a fine young man, be married in a temple of our Lord, and raise up righteous children. Finally, you will arise in the morning of the first resurrection, surrounded by your family.

These wonderful predictions made me weep for joy. The patriarch warned me, however, that Satan wanted my soul very much—so much, in fact, that he would try hard to deceive me. All the blessings promised me would therefore be conditional upon my resisting Satan, and my obedience to the precepts of Mormonism.

Now, years later, I have left Mormonism—and I feel so strongly about it that I am writing a book telling why I have left.

It wasn’t easy to leave. I owed, and still owe, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and its members a great debt of gratitude. But I am regarded by them as a traitor and an apostate. I left Mormonism after tasting some of its sweetest fruits.

Though my parents were Baptists, we did not attend church regularly until my father was converted to Mormonism by missionaries. I gladly received the missionary lessons, and my younger brother and I were baptized into the Mormon Church when I was eleven. My mother, however, never accepted the Joseph Smith Story. Through the tumultuous years of my adolescence, the LDS Church was security. Teachers and counselors in the church were compassionate and truly interested in me. These people were bound together by great love for their families, the Church, and each other.

The excellent youth programs (including track meets, road shows, supervised dances, cookouts, camps, sports activities, firesides, work and service projects, and much more) filled a gap in my life that might otherwise have been filled with early dating and associations in unsavory places. Through the LDS Church, I found a concrete way to express my fervent love for God and my desires to serve him. I gave love freely, and had it returned a hundredfold.

Some of Mormonism’s blessings were even more tangible. I received an education of the highest quality at Brigham Young University, and through writing contests I was awarded scholarships that made it easier for me to attend. The part-time jobs I held while in school (dorm resident assistant, staff writer for the university’s weekly magazines, translation and public relations work for a professor in the Latin-American Studies department, and counter work at the basketball arena’s concession stand) were provided by the BYU board of trustees, who were deeply interested in the welfare of its students.

Once, even the food I ate was provided by the LDS Church. My father had undergone extensive surgery, and when the church officials heard of this, they brought hot meals to our home for several days and assessed our grocery supply to determine what we needed. They returned with sacks and sacks of groceries, and even offered to make car, house, and utility payments if needed.

I loved Mormonism for these things, and in return showed my love by living and serving as a good Mormon. Each time that I was interviewed by my bishop (ecclesiastical leader of my local ward or congregation) and asked about such things as my attendance at meetings, payment of tithes, observance of the Word of Wisdom (health laws), sexual purity, and support of Church doctrines and leaders, I was awarded a precious temple recommend.

During my young adulthood, I served as a teacher in Sunday school, Relief Society (a ladies’ organization), and Primary (a children’s organization). I was active as a speaker in Sacrament meetings and was often called on to prepare programs for the youths’ Mutual Improvement Association and for special occasions. For a while, I worked as my ward’s media aids supervisor, and in various other church jobs.

I was never lukewarm. What I believed, I lived. I say all this because I believe that someone who has not lived a doctrine has no grounds to criticize it¹—just as a grade-school science student cannot reasonably speak with authority on nuclear physics. I lived Mormonism; I loved it—and I left it.

My apostasy did not happen overnight. Once the process began, however, it moved quickly. The summer after my junior year at BYU, I returned to my home in Albuquerque, New Mexico, to work. I was annoyed when my mother, a lukewarm Baptist who played ragtime piano at a local pizza parlor, suggested that I date non-Mormons that summer. A missionary I was waiting for was due to return that fall,² and I just wasn’t interested in a non-LDS Gentile. But she introduced me to Dan Scott, the object of her praises, who started off our introductory conversation by saying, "So you’re a Mormon. I’ve read the Book of Mormon. It was, uh, interesting."

Immediately I thought to myself, Maybe he could be converted. Then, more cautious, I stalled, searching for a reply. Everyone I’d ever known who’d read the whole Book of Mormon had become a Mormon. In fact, I reflected, I’d known plenty of faithful Mormons who had never read the whole thing unless and until required to do so in a religion class or while on a mission. Perhaps, I thought, this would be a good time to terminate this discussion, and I left quickly.

A few weeks later, a voice on the phone said, Hi! Bet you don’t know who this is! His Tennessee accent had betrayed him. I said, Yes—Dan Scott. He was crushed, his surprise foiled, but not crushed enough to forget to ask me out. I accepted against my better judgment.

Our first date was a disaster. He took me to midweek services at his church where he announced, She’s a Mormon. I was stared at as if I were from another planet. (Mormons get accustomed, to a degree, to such treatment from curious non-Mormons. Once when I was in junior high, a sincere classmate asked me if something her mother told her was true: that Mormons didn’t have navels. We quickly went into the girls’ room, and I dispelled that myth with a tug of my blouse!)

Nonetheless, I was attracted by Dan’s openness and decided to date him again if he asked, and he did.

I soon found Dan to be a true and warm friend with a sense of humor he could aim at himself as well as at others. Our only disagreements came when we discussed religion. He was so transparently shocked when I answered his questions about baptism for the dead, polygamy, treatment of Negroes, and the LDS priesthood that we made an agreement. He would study the Book of Mormon and other LDS scripture with me if I would study the Bible with him. I felt this to be a personal triumph, because I’d never studied Mormonism with anyone (except my mother) who did not join the LDS Church.

Soon Dan and I had to admit to ourselves the love that was growing between us. One thing we both agreed on: We could not take the chance of becoming more deeply involved with our hearts so near and our souls so far apart. We both acknowledged that our respective religions weren’t just versions of each other. They were not just different; they were oppositional.

Our discussions usually put me on the defensive. I was knowledgeable about my religion, and what was more, I was stubborn. Add to that a strong dose of love for the doctrines and people of Mormonism, and you have an idea of the battle Dan had to fight. He didn’t fight it alone, though; he had several powerful weapons.

One was his brother-in-law, Charles Williamson, a preacher of great intelligence and patience. One day Charles and I agreed to sit down and talk only about religion. We sat on opposite sides of a table, me with my Bible, Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, Pearl of Great Price, and Principles of the Gospel; he with his Bible. Dan soon left the room, a scene he described as a verbal ping-pong game. Both Charles and I were exhausted after about two hours of table-slamming debate. I was on the verge of anger. I learned later that Charles told Dan in confidence that I knew more than any Mormon elder he’d ever spoken with, and frankly he didn’t know if there was any hope for me.

My recurring headaches signaled tension that had begun to grow as my doubts had. Dan and Charles didn’t think their talks had served any purpose. I was filled with a sick dread that I then thought was a godly sorrow for the lost souls of people like Dan and Charles. Actually, I was beginning to fear that my soul might be lost, and I dared not voice this fear—not even to myself.

Another of the mighty weapons used by Dan in the battle for my soul was the literature he somehow managed to find. These books dealt objectively and factually with Mormonism, from the view of non-Mormons. I was blessed by the fact that Dan chose the books he did for me to read. Most writings that criticized LDS doctrine that I had previously read had had very little lasting effect on me.

There are many books and magazine articles written to convince Mormons of their doctrinal errors. Many of these, however, make at least one of two major mistakes. One is underestimating the intelligence, integrity, or character of the LDS people. Many times when I was a Mormon, I had read some otherwise factual literature against Mormonism which by its bitter or berating tone turned me off. The doctrinal point the writer was making never sank in. Such literature implies that Mormons believe as they do because they are stupid, narrow-minded, or satanic. Since I considered other Mormon friends and myself to be intelligent, open-minded children of God seeking to do his will, I would toss such offensive literature into the nearest trash can. Then I would offer a prayer to God for the soul of anyone who would tell such lies in print where they might be accepted as fact by someone who’d never met a good Latter-day Saint.

The other great error committed by many writers on Mormonism is that of not checking their facts. Like the mother of the girl who asked me about my navel, such writers discredit themselves with inaccuracies. Some writers, carried away in their enthusiasm, embellish facts—it’s easy to do—but when I would run into such stretching or bending of the truth in writings critical of Mormonism, I would dismiss as also erroneous anything else I read there that didn’t agree with LDS doctrines I had been taught.

When you confront many Mormons with, for example, copies of the original 1830 edition of the Book of Mormon, or strange prophecies made by Joseph Smith which never came true, some will be dumbfounded. Often such things are unavailable to them through regular Church channels. If, therefore, a book errs when covering things they do know about, how can they trust new information on things they have never heard of?

The most effective weapon of all in Dan’s armory was three-pronged. First was his overwhelming faith and confidence in the Word of God, the Bible. Second was the prayer that he continually offered for my soul’s enlightenment. Third, and most penetrating, was the love he had for me. Had we not loved each other, I don’t believe I would have had the courage to leave the comfortable LDS way of life. Had he ceased loving me before my conversion was completed, I fear I would have returned to the womb of Mormonism and lived ever an infant, frightened and dependent, but secure in my deliberate ignorance.

I finally came to an impasse in my spiritual progress. I was struggling against the bonds of Mormonism—tradition and heritage, doctrinal comfort and love. Yet I felt that something was terribly wrong there—why did my teachings and background in Mormonism conflict so sharply with my new knowledge of the Bible? Why the inconsistencies in LDS historical accounts and early documents?

One final acid test remained at the end of the summer. Since I had a scholarship and a writing job waiting for me at BYU, I decided to return, promising Dan that we would marry—if I came back in December feeling about Mormonism as I did then in August. As I was packing, I felt as if the summer had been a dream. Or was it the real part, and the rest of my past life the illusion? I was unhappy about leaving Dan, but I knew I must make my decision alone. No matter how much I loved him, my eternal soul and my relationship with God were more important to me.

I was putting my books into boxes when, tired, I sat down with my Doctrine and Covenants. Always it had been my favorite book of scripture because of its practical commandments, like the Word of Wisdom, which had purified and uplifted the lives of millions of Latter-day Saints. Also commonly bound in the same volume with the Doctrine and Covenants is another book of scripture called the Pearl of Great Price, which includes two books that Mormons believe were written by Moses and Abraham. These scriptures are unique in that they have what purport to be illustrations by Abraham himself. These illustrations, reproduced by woodcuts, are in the ancient Egyptian style. I have always loved Egyptology, though I have no more than an avid layperson’s knowledge of the subject.

I was looking idly through these familiar woodcuts when I was struck by an incongruity that upset me. Two of the women in the woodcut known as Facsimile 3 had been labeled by Joseph Smith as men! Egyptian women are easily recognized in ancient documents by their distinctive strapped, ankle-length dresses.

Why I had never noticed this before, I do not know. I had looked at these woodcuts for years. I knew from reading authoritative experts on Egyptology that Egyptian women in history had dressed as men and acted as Pharaoh (Queen Hatshepsut, for example), but no Egyptian man would have been caught dead in a woman’s clothing, especially to be preserved for posterity on a papyrus roll!

It was with this discovery that my most concrete doubts about Mormonism began to multiply. No anti-Mormon writer had pointed this out; no hater of the LDS Church could have falsified or altered these prints; they were in my own personal copy of scripture. I found myself crushed and exultant, all at the same time.

On the plane trip to Utah, I was shaken and lonely. I had left Dan behind; he was my bulwark of support and I was conscious that the events of the next few months would change my life. I brooded over this frightening thought (for who truly welcomes change?) and tried to keep my mind occupied by reading a paperback book on Mormonism that Dan had given me. I was so absorbed in reading that I hardly noticed a young woman sit down in the seat next to mine. She had a clean-scrubbed, open, friendly face. She smiled and began our conversation by asking about the book I was reading.

I could hardly formulate my thoughts; first, because of the fear that she might be a fellow Mormon who might question my motives in reading such literature; and second, because I didn’t quite know how to explain my situation.

It’s about Mormonism, I finally blurted out, pointing to the book.

She smiled. Are you thinking about becoming a Mormon? she asked.

No. I mean—I am one. I mean, I was—I’m thinking about leaving it… On the verge of tears, I was helpless to finish.

She gave me a look of soul-searching compassion. How hard it must be to make that decision, she said.

And so I told her of my background in the LDS Church, and my love for it. Then I explained what had happened when I met Dan, and what I’d learned through reading and prayer, and how confused and muddled and lost I felt. Before I knew it, we had touched down in Grand Junction, Colorado, which was her destination.

As she prepared to leave, she leaned over and touched my arm. I’ll pray for you, she said. God knows what is in your heart, and he will guide you to make the right decision.

She arose and walked out of my life as quickly as she had entered it, and I was left with a greater peace in my soul than I’d known for many months. She had touched my life with the bare wire of love, and peace had passed from her soul to mine like a transfusion. Then she was gone.

When I arrived in Provo, I set about making myself as busy as possible. Soon old friends began to arrive for the new school year, and I fooled myself by thinking they wouldn’t notice the difference in me. I registered for classes, reported for work, and caught up on all the news of who had married whom, who had gone on missions, and what missionaries had returned.

But I have never been a good deceiver, and soon my feelings about the Church began to surface. Close friends made no secret of the fact that they thought I’d gone crazy. Some attributed my change of heart about Mormonism to a broken relationship with a missionary. Many of my LDS friends, to this day, assume that I wanted to leave the LDS Church because of that missionary. An unhappy bargain that would be—to trade my soul’s salvation for revenge!

I became even more upset each time I attended church services. My branch (congregation) hadn’t really changed. There were new faces, but it contained the same back-to-school jokes about snoring roommates and the excitement of worshiping together with maybe-your-future-spouse. Nothing had changed as much as I had, and I was sick at heart. In a letter to Dan in late September, I said,

I can’t explain the feelings I had in church today. I was looking at Mormonism through new eyes. In Sunday school class I listened to a discussion on the Holy Ghost and silently refuted almost everything that was said—by looking in the Bible. Things I’ve accepted for years seem suddenly strange. I experienced in part the pity that you felt for Mormons. Dan, I don’t know what I’m going to do when they call me to a church position—and they surely will. I simply cannot stand up in front of people and teach from the Book of Mormon the way I feel now.

The dreaded call came late one afternoon when I was asked to meet with my branch president. Newly appointed to this job, he was nervous and unsure of himself. Everyone in his BYU student branch was to be interviewed and assigned a church job—teaching, visitation, social activity planning—and he seemed anxious to get these assignments over.

He began by congratulating me on my past service in the Church (he had my records before him) and asked me about the kind of job I’d be willing to do.

I’d like to work on an activities committee, I said, or work on cleanups—I’m really good at that, and honestly, I don’t mind. In fact, I’d love it.

He looked at me, confused. What did someone with teaching and leadership experience want with a cleanup job? Then a smile broke across his face. He had solved the puzzle—I was trying to be modest! He laughed, relieved, and then asked a question he thought would put us on common ground.

Well, Latayne, he said, leaning back in his chair, how do you feel about the Prophet?

Just that week, Harold B. Lee, the Prophet, Seer, and Revelator of the Church, had come to BYU. When I had seen twenty-five thousand students rise to their feet and sing through tear-choked throats the song We Thank Thee, Oh God, for a Prophet, I had felt faint and ill. How could I now tell this branch president of my feelings?

I looked away and said, "I don’t think he is a prophet."

The young president sat up so suddenly that the back of his chair snapped forward. He acted as if he had had a bad day and I was pulling a very, very poor joke on him. I tried to explain that I hadn’t come to a decision about the Church, that I wanted to avoid talking about it publicly, but still wanted to attend services and work in the Church.

He only shook his head, his disbelief turning to anger. How can you think such things? he asked. "Don’t you know that if you leave the Church, you’ll never be able to reach the Celestial Kingdom? You will never be happy again!"

Never to be happy again! What a load to put upon a young mind already troubled with uncertainty and fear of displeasing God! I left that interview with a dread in my soul. I went back to my apartment. That night I called Dan, and the next day disenrolled from Brigham Young University, telling only a few of my decision. My roommates were incredulous, my landlady tearful and reproachful, and all but one school official unsympathetic. A similar conflict, this registrar told me, had faced him when he was young. He had taken the part of Mormonism with few regrets, but his experience made him understanding, and concerned with my best interests.

When I arrived back in Albuquerque, little of the pressure was relieved. I received many letters, most anonymous and many cruel, which persuaded and threatened, pleaded and rejected. All had one object in mind—my return to Mormonism. Many pleaded, saying that my leaving would affect those I had taught and helped to convert, or those weak in the faith. (I pray to God it may be so!) Some of the letters told of the punishments awaiting apostates, and one ended by saying, "Don’t you realize that you’ll never see the inside of a temple again?"

Phone calls, too, didn’t diminish for several months. Most were from friends who had heard and just couldn’t believe it. Close friends called one night and said several dozen other friends would be fasting and praying together the next day for me. On that day, I too fasted and prayed for my soul; for though I felt that I should leave Mormonism, I wasn’t sure that Dan’s teachings were any more reliable. Once you’ve found the tenets you most trusted and believed in to be false, you are not anxious to embrace a substitute.

Of only one thing was I certain: However I might begin to comprehend God, I knew that he loved me and knew my anguish, and would show me the way through his Son. This—and no more—could I be sure of.

Even Dan, much as I loved him, could not be the basis of my faith. I knew that if a group of people as dedicated and as sincere as most Mormons are could be so very wrong, then so could Dan, and his teachings. I have never felt more alone in my life.

I labored in agony with the great questions that left me sick at heart and spiritually weakened. I pulled this burden along behind me, pushed it before me, and tried to take it upon my shoulders. When I found that I could not move it alone—it was too heavy—I gave up and did what I should have done long before. I put it in God’s hands, and wondered why I had taken so long to make that wisest of decisions in my life.

I spent a lot of time reading everything I could get my hands on that dealt objectively with Mormonism, especially the densely printed double-columned books first published by Jerald and Sandra Tanner, which included reprints of early Mormon documents. They, like I, had tried to prove Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon true, and finally were overwhelmed with the information they decided to print for others.

I was both fascinated and repelled the more I realized my errors. A near-physical sickness would engulf me when I stopped to realize how I had flirted with hell while thinking I was courting heaven. Only a few doubts (those last barriers to real repentance) remained, and I took my questions to Lon Elkins, Dan’s minister. I had grown to admire this man’s vast knowledge of the Scriptures and of archaeology.

How simply he answered those questions I had been hiding so deep in my heart for so many months! I hadn’t dared to ask anyone who it was Christ spoke of when he said, Other sheep I have, which are not of this fold: them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice (John 10:16). The Mormons identify those other sheep as the Nephites, that is, the people the Book of Mormon teaches were the ancient inhabitants of the Americas who lived at the same time Christ did. The LDS Church teaches that Christ spent part of the time between his death and resurrection here in America, teaching those Nephites. Could a Christian offer as reasonable an explanation?

Thank God, Lon both could and did. After he had explained this and answered many other questions, I realized how it is that any religious group teaching false doctrine can so easily misrepresent the Scriptures to someone who is unfamiliar with them. The greatest battles a cult can wage over the soul of the ignorant person, I believe, are already won when the proselyte is too lazy, or afraid, or unwilling to seek a more correct interpretation of a Scripture passage that is presented to teach a supposedly new doctrine. We have nothing to fear but ourselves when we ignore the admonition to search the Scriptures.

I had realized this too late to undo my years in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I cannot say that I wish I had never been a Mormon. God richly blessed me during those years. Perhaps they were a preparation for my Christian life. I do not question or doubt the wisdom of God, even though I still sorrow for the wrong things I did and taught.

I knew then as now that I must recommit myself to God—I must become a new creature, as different from my LDS self as a butterfly is from a caterpillar. I had so many doubts—not knowing for certain what to trust, or what doctrine was true. I decided on a course of action that included two things: I would be baptized for the remission of my many sins, and I would depend wholly on the Bible as my spiritual guide.

Dan was a little apprehensive as we prepared for my baptism. He was anxious and happy to baptize me, as I had requested. But he was afraid because he’d never baptized anyone before, and he feared he would let me slip into the water or choke. I could only laugh—I knew I could take care of myself in that situation, because I once had been baptized thirty consecutive times (all within a matter of minutes) while doing proxy ordinances for the dead in the Manti, Utah, LDS temple!

This baptism was different, though. From that still September night to this very day, I feel a great sense of the majesty of God, and of his mercy so undeserved by me, a sinner. Mormons may regard a book showing the errors of Mormonism as a strange way to repay a debt of gratitude. I only wish that when I was a Mormon someone had told me the things of which I write.

Chapter 2

JOSEPH SMITH THE MARTYR

Joseph Smith, the Prophet and Seer of the Lord, has done more, save Jesus only, for the salvation of men in this world, than any other man that ever lived in it.

—President John Taylor as quoted in Doctrine and Covenants 135:3

Why is the story of Joseph Smith so crucial to Mormonism? Because the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints began with this man’s report of how God the Father and Jesus Christ appeared to him in a grove one morning with the message: All churches are wrong, and you must rectify that situation.

When I was a Mormon I was taught that Joseph indeed, as John Taylor stated, was the most important human being who ever lived. Here is the story, as I was told it, and as the Mormon Church today portrays him.

THE EARLY DAYS OF JOSEPH SMITH

Joseph Smith Jr. was born in Sharon, Vermont, on December 23, 1805. About ten years later his family moved to New York State. By the time they arrived in Manchester, New York, they were a sizable family: Joseph Smith Sr., his wife Lucy Mack Smith, and their children Alvin, Hyrum, Joseph Jr., Samuel Harrison, William, Don Carlos, Sophronia, Catherine, and Lucy.

After they had lived in Manchester about two years Joseph had some experiences that were to change his life and the lives of millions of others. As recorded in the LDS scripture the Pearl of Great Price, in the chapter known as Joseph Smith—History, the following things took place.

A great religious revival in the area caused confusion in the mind of young Joseph. Although he wanted to become a Methodist, he mostly wanted to make an intelligent and mature decision concerning his soul. He felt that the many conflicting doctrines and teachings of the different churches made this all but impossible for him because he was a practically unschooled youth in his fifteenth year. In the spring of 1820, his mind in turmoil, he read James 1:5: If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.

Cheered by this, Joseph went into the woods near his house and knelt to pray. No sooner had he begun than some power overcame him and bound his tongue—a power so great that it was only by a last desperate cry to God that the evil power was dissolved. A pillar of light, brighter than the sun, then descended upon him, and Joseph saw two glorious Personages suspended in the air. One called him by name, and identified the other as My Beloved Son.

Joseph then asked the question that had been troubling him: Which church should he join? He was told that, because of the corruption of all existing creeds, churches, and their ministers, he was to join none of them. After the second Personage told Joseph many things that he was told not to write down, the Personages departed, leaving Joseph weak and exhausted.

He reported that he was greatly persecuted by friends, ministers, and laymen alike whenever he told this story. For the next three years he led a life that, he admitted, though not greatly sinful, was unworthy of someone who had had an experience such as his. Then on the evening of September 21, 1823, as he was praying in bed for forgiveness of his sins, a great light shone around him and a person whose face was so bright as to be like lightning appeared. Suspended in the air, this person identified himself as Moroni, a messenger from God. God had a great mission in life for Joseph, Moroni said, and it would be one that would make him famous, both beloved and notorious. He told Joseph of a book written upon golden plates that contained the history and origins of the early Americans. It contained, he said, the fulness of the everlasting Gospel. Also deposited with the plates were seers, two stones in silver bows that were attached to a breastplate, provided to help in translating the golden book. These seers were known as the Urim and Thummim.¹ The messenger quoted scriptures from Malachi, Isaiah, Acts, Joel, and other books of the Bible, most of them exactly as the verses quoted appear in a King James Version. He then warned Joseph not to show the plates or seers to anyone unless commanded to do so, and Joseph saw in a vision the hiding place of those objects.

The light in the room seemed to seep back into the person of Moroni, and he ascended into heaven by means of what Joseph called a conduit. Joseph was left amazed, and as he thought about what had happened to him, the room began to glow again and the messenger returned in the same manner as before. He repeated his prior message verbatim, adding a prophecy of great disaster that would soon occur on earth. Then the messenger ascended to heaven exactly as before. Joseph by this time was wide awake with wonder that increased when the whole scene was repeated a third time—exactly as before, except this time the messenger warned Joseph against succumbing to Satan, who would tempt him to sell the plates.

The three visits had taken all night. Joseph went that morning to work in the fields with his father, who noticed that something was wrong. He advised his son to go home and rest. Joseph, on his way, stumbled from fatigue and lost consciousness. The messenger again appeared, repeated all he had told him the night before, and told Joseph to tell his father of what he had learned. Joseph’s father, upon hearing of the visits, agreed that Joseph should do as the messenger had directed. So Joseph went to the hill he had seen in the vision, the resting place of the plates. There, under a large stone, he found the plates buried in a box of cement or stone. He raised the lid with a lever and looked in. But the messenger forbade him to touch the plates, saying that Joseph was to meet him at the same site a year from that date for further instructions.

In fact, at the end of every year’s time for several years, Joseph met with Moroni for further instructions regarding the Lord’s plans to establish his kingdom. Meanwhile, Joseph worked as a laborer. In 1825 he was hired by a man named Josiah Stoal, who hoped Joseph could help him find the location of an old Spanish silver mine in Pennsylvania. Also during this time, Joseph met Emma Hale, with whose father Joseph boarded. They eloped to New York on January 18, 1827. This marriage was bitterly opposed by the Hale family, who did not believe Joseph’s stories of visions.

On September 21 of that same year, Joseph met as usual with Moroni, who turned the golden plates, the seer stones, and the breastplate over to Joseph. The angel warned him that many people would try to take them from him. This prediction proved to be true.

BEGINNING THE TRANSLATIONS

Joseph was ridiculed and persecuted, and finally he and his wife returned to Pennsylvania, aided by a farmer named Martin Harris. Joseph began to copy the inscriptions from the plates and to translate them. At first, his wife acted as his scribe while he dictated. He gave a copy of some of the ancient inscriptions to Mr. Harris, who took them to New York and showed them to a renowned professor, Dr. Charles Anthon.

At first Professor Anthon said that the inscriptions were indeed authentic, and were of the Egyptian, Chaldaic, Assyriac, and Arabic tongues. He identified Joseph Smith’s translation of them as an accurate one, and wrote out a certificate to that effect.

But he took the certificate back and tore it up when Martin Harris told him that the characters had come from golden plates given to Joseph Smith by an angel. Anthon offered to translate the plates himself, but upon hearing that Harris was forbidden to bring another, sealed, portion of the plates, Anthon replied, I cannot read a sealed book.

Martin Harris returned with this news to Joseph Smith, and then began serving for a short while as scribe to him. Joseph loaned him 116 handwritten pages of translation, which Martin lost. These pages were never retranslated for fear that enemies might alter the original translation and ridicule Joseph when a subsequent translation differed from the lost one.

On April 5, 1829, a young schoolteacher named Oliver Cowdery approached Joseph Smith after hearing of the plates. Two days later, he began to write as Joseph dictated the translation of the Book of Mormon.

On May 15 of that year they came upon a reference to baptism mentioned in the plates, and they decided to go into the woods to pray about the meaning of it. A messenger of God appeared to them and identified himself as John the Baptist. He laid his hands on Smith and Cowdery and conferred upon them the priesthood of Aaron, which had been taken from the earth with the death of the last apostle. This priesthood involved the ministering of angels, repentance, and baptism for the remission of sins. It did not, however, involve the laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost, which would be given later.

Joseph then baptized Oliver, and Oliver baptized Joseph. Joseph gave the Aaronic priesthood to Oliver by the laying on of hands, then Oliver laid his hands on Joseph for the same purpose. Following this, they both began to prophesy about the church that would soon be established.

After this glorious experience, their efforts were redoubled in bringing forth the Book of Mormon. Joseph applied for a copyright on the book on June 11, 1829.

The entire translation of the Book of Mormon was completed in seventy-five additional working days. Joseph claimed that it was a work complete in itself, although he admitted that it was the translation of less than one-half of the plates he had received from the angel. The remaining plates were sealed and taken back by the angel without having been translated.

Joseph, in addition to his translation work, had received many revelations which are recorded in the Doctrine and Covenants. One was a revelation directed at his father concerning missionary work; another referred to the ordination to the Aaronic priesthood; and several others were directed to Oliver Cowdery and his work with the prophet. Revelation like this was personal in nature, intended for specific persons, but others dealt with matters of general doctrine and instruction. Almost without exception this latter, general type of revelation had as its purpose the strengthening of the validity of the Book of Mormon.

During June and July of 1829, Joseph showed the plates to eleven persons, and their testimonies concerning the plates are recorded in the front part of every modern edition of the Book of Mormon. All of these witnesses were said to be honorable men, above reproach, and none ever denied his testimony of the plates and their divine origin.

The first three witnesses—Oliver Cowdery, David Whitmer, and Martin Harris—said that God himself told them that the Book of Mormon was true, and that an angel had shown them the plates. The other eight witnesses (Christian Whitmer, Jacob Whitmer, Peter Whitmer Jr., John Whitmer, Hiram Page, Joseph Smith Sr., Hyrum Smith, and Samuel H. Smith) did not mention in their printed testimony anything of God—or of an angel—testifying about the plates. They did, however, claim to have seen and touched the plates themselves.

The year 1830 was a momentous one for Joseph Smith. He received additional revelation on such matters