A few weeks ago I picked up Reza Aslan’s Zealot. It’s an overview of Jesus’s ministry put into the context of his time. Some have criticized his work as being somewhat polemical, and that may be true. The Jesus that Aslan introduced me to was somewhat different from the Jesus that I have been taught about in Sunday School. This Jesus was a radical who wanted to turn the social order on its head. A messiah who wanted to liberate the people from an oppressive social system that used the temple as a means of enriching the aristocracy.

The Early Church

The picture he paints of the church, just after the crucifixion, was a tight knit sect of Judaism who believed that the Messiah had come, and that the Kingdom of God had arrived with him. This was the church of Peter, James, and John.

In their earliest days Jewish Christians learned the teachings of Jesus directly from his brothers and the disciples who knew him. Those traditions were passed along to others, probably orally, in the houses of their community. This church emphasized ritual purity, visions, revelations, and heavenly ascents. They had an ascetic tendency, and at least for a while, lived a communal life which probably led to their poverty.

The development of modern christian theology took centuries. Original Sin, the Divinity of Christ, Incarnation, The Holy Ghost, Salvation. All of these ideas were the result of decades, if not centuries, of theological development. It’s hard to fathom that these ideas came about ex-nihilo. In fact, if studied, these ideas emerge with the influence of greek traditions, philosophers and early church leaders: Irenaeus, and Augustine among them.

Given that these ideas, central to our doctrine, emerged after the death of Jesus and the original apostles, how do we explain the Great Apostasy that we restorationists hear so much about? James E. Talmage wrote a book covering the topic in 1909.

Talmage posits that the Church that was established by Jesus and continued through his apostles. That from that apostolic age that there must have been a loss of priesthood authority, after their deaths, necessitating a restoration of the gospel and priesthood authority through angelic ministration.

None of these claims are falsifiable, but all these positions are dependent on the answer to a single question: Did Jesus Christ establish a church during his ministry? In addition, if he did, Was there a unified church among his apostles, that we would recognize given what we know about his restored church today? If not, what was restored?

In every question, a careful study of the New Testament indicates, as I will elaborate on later, that a Great Apostasy, as Talmage and other restorationists conceived in the 19th and Early 20th centuries was not possible. That there was never a unified church with a uniform, or even slightly congruent theological basis. What does that mean for us today? What lessons can we learn from the “Great Apostasy” and apply to our own understanding of “The Gospel” and “Truth” in our practice of our religion?

The Myth of a Unitary Christian Church

Just 20 years after the death of Christ there were already manifest divisions in Christianity. If everyone had the same view of God, Christ, Jesus, Salvation, and The Law it’s doubtful that Paul would have even written any letters to his churches. Nearly every letter we have from Paul was written in reaction to a problem in his congregations. Questions about what they could eat, how they could discern spirits, who they should listen to or follow, and if they should be circumcised. Tellingly, interlopers showed up regularly among his congregations teaching other christian traditions and doctrines that were not in line with his gospel:

I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel — not that there is another gospel, but there are some who are confusing you and want to pervert the gospel of Christ. But even if we or an angel from heaven should proclaim to you a gospel contrary to what we proclaimed to you, let that one be accursed! As we have said before, so now I repeat, if anyone proclaims to you a gospel contrary to what you received, let that one be accursed! (Gal. 1: 6–9)

Note the emphatic repetition in Paul’s words. Somebody was coming into his congregations, teaching a different gospel, and challenging his apostleship, it was seen as a big problem. The question is who? Who could come into Paul’s church teach a ‘different’ gospel and claim authority over him?

This sounds more like a struggle between factions than a unified church led by a clear and distinct hierarchy of recognized leaders who passed down priesthood authority by the laying on of hands. More interesting than what we do see, is what we don’t see. Paul doesn’t claim authority to preach by virtue of who he knows, his priesthood, or who he associates himself with. He asserts his authority by the truth of his gospel message. In the same vein, he doesn’t discredit the interlopers by saying they haven’t been given authority, or “human approval”. When he spoke of his own calling (by a vision) and his mission:

I did not confer with any human being, nor did I go up to Jerusalem to those who were already apostles before me, but I went away at once into Arabia, and afterwards I returned to Damascus. (Gal. 1:16–17)

Paul was on his own. He didn’t ask permission from any human being. Nor did he ‘confer’ with anyone.

The Factions

There is consensus among modern scholars of the New Testament that there was trouble in the early church. In fact there was a stark division among at least two camps of believers by 48CE. On the one side was the Gentile faction led by Paul. On the other side was the Jewish faction led by the family of Jesus, and the Jewish apostles. These were the Pauline and Petrine branches of the primitive church. Paul led at least two missions to the Jerusalem church to try to come to some kind of understanding and carve out different boundaries for the Pauline and Petrine branches, but they never merged into a single unified body. At best we can say they tolerated each other. The only thing that kept them together was a belief in the resurrection of Jesus, though they couldn’t even agree on what the resurrection was.

It would be too ambitious, and foolhardy, for me to enter into a lengthy discourse around the differences between the Petrine and Pauline churches. If you are interested in an extensive exposition on the two sects, I encourage you to pick up Michael Goulder’s St. Paul versus St Peter who puts forth an accessible exegesis of the New Testament through the lens of a Pauline and Petrine conflict. But a short summary may suffice.

Petrines followed the Law of Moses (the law), including the oral tradition (which is much more strict), and temple worship, in addition they were also prone to subject gentile converts to the law (read: circumcision, kosher laws). Paulines rejected the oral tradition, had a nuanced view of the Law of Moses, and did not subject gentile converts to the law. Petrines believed the Kingdom of God to be present, Christ brought it with him, they were spiritually resurrected, or ‘risen’ in Christ already: this life and body mattered little, we would leave both behind in death to participate in the kingdom as exalted spirits. Paulines believed the Kingdom of God to come, we would participate in resurrected bodies some time in the future.

Because the Kingdom of God was already present Petrines were ascetic, communal, and sometimes characterized as unfruitful: they focused on the kingdom to the detriment of their society, abstaining from sex, and from remunerative labor. For the believer, there was little point in trying to build an empire in this world, it was passed, joining meant that you gave all you had to the church, literally. Paulines on the other hand also had some sexual oddities, but his reasons for abstention were pragmatic — Christ and his kingdom would be here within a few short years, if you could avoid the distraction of marriage in the meantime, all the better, if you could not avoid temptation, get married rather than sin. As for work, Paul himself was a leatherworker, and expected his congregants to sustain themselves through productive labor as he sustained himself.

Petrines and Paulines also differed in christology. Paulines believed in a high christology (that Jesus was always the Christ). Petrines probably believed in a form of christology now recognized as “possession christology” in which Jesus was the body, and Christ was the divine spirit who possessed Jesus’s body.

The Gospels

History, they say, is written by the victors. In the end the Pauline gospel won. Our New Testament Gospels are decisively Pauline with some small influences from Petrine sources. The following is a short account of the authorship of each gospel and the Petrine/Pauline leanings of each.

Mark was the first gospel to be written (about 69 CE). Its undertones are heavily Pauline. Authorship is somewhat disputed, but there is strong evidence that it was written by John Mark, a companion of Paul (Acts 12:25), the cousin of Barnabas (Col. 4:10) and the possible companion of Peter (I Pt. 5:13). His heritage as a jew, being the cousin of Barnabas and a companion to Peter would explain his knowledge of Christ’s ministry, and his familiarity with the church in Jerusalem. His later companionship with Paul explains his strong bias toward telling a gospel story that supported Paul’s particular brand of the gospel. This gospel is thought to be a Pauline spin on the Petrine tradition of Jesus.

The Gospel of Matthew showed upon the scene 5–10 years after Mark. Originally thought to be the first gospel — because of its more complete story, including a birth story, and appearances after the resurrection — it is dependent on Mark for much of its content. This work is largely anonymous. We’re not certain who the author was, except that it has a strong preference for the Petrine position, though a very liberal one. Some of the material in this gospel is thought to have come from a source called Q, which is shared with Luke. Others, like Michael Goulder, believe that Matthew and Luke simply knew each other.

The Gospel of Luke was written about 90CE. Later than Mark and Matthew. It also relies heavily on Mark as a source. Though he leans toward a Petrine view. Luke, who some believe was Paul’s physician, was a peacemaker. His efforts to explain the conflicts between the Pauline and Petrine traditions tended to paper over the differences in the church: minimizing slights to Paul from the Jerusalem Church, and emphasizing unity in the church. Luke is the only gospel writer to discuss the church as a unified body.

The Gospel of John is more Pauline than Paul himself. This gospel stresses the divinity of Jesus. Jesus was the Word, existing in the beginning with God. This gospel rings more of Greek philosophy than Jewish tradition. Like Matthew the authorship of the gospel of John is unclear, though tradition states that it was John the son of Zebedee. Read in light of the Petrine and Pauline conflict of its time it can be read as a polemical statement against the Jews and Petrine beliefs.

In summary, the gospels we have are two liberal Pauline traditions, one liberal Petrine, and one radical Pauline gospel. Along with the letters attributed to Paul most of the New Testament derives from a Pauline tradition, and not surprisingly, most of the Christian world subscribes to a very Pauline perspective of the gospel.

Paul’s place in the New Testament

Paul’s letters predate the gospels. They are the best source of information we have on the state of the early church. Paul was martyred in 62 CE, and the Gospel of Mark was written circa 70. Among the communities of mixed gentile and jewish converts they are a raw accounting of events. They represent the earliest story of a major rift in the church between the “pillars” (Peter, James and John) (Gal 2:9) in Jerusalem, and Paul. From a historical perspective they are probably also the most trustworthy reckoning of what happened. When a later, different, account of the same event occurs in another record, as we often see in Acts (for example) it’s wise to question the authenticity of the differences, and motive of the authors to make those changes.

The Jerusalem Council

Fourteen years after his first visit Paul went to Jerusalem again. He relates a private meeting he had with other church leaders to convey the gospel he was preaching to the Gentiles. From his account there was some conflict with his “supposed leaders” to whom he “did not submit” for “God shows no partiality”. Paul also makes a point that “they contributed nothing to me”. In contrast Paul says that they recognized that “I had been entrusted with the gospel for the uncircumcised, just as Peter had been entrusted with the gospel for the circumcised”(Gal 2). In the end there was an agreement between the groups. Paul would preach the gospel to the Gentiles, while ‘they’ (the Jerusalem church) would preach the gospel to the Jews

Trouble in Antioch

This accord seemed tenuous at best. Peter (Cephas) came to visit Paul in Antioch. As we understand the events Peter sat with Paul’s congregation and ate with them. Later when “certain people were sent from James” (probably jewish christian missionaries from Jerusalem) “he drew back and kept himself separate for fear of the circumcision faction”. Paul calls Peter and the other Jews who joined him hypocrites. In addition he accused Peter of leading away Barnabas (Paul’s companion) in hypocrisy. But what was the conflict? That they were associating with the Gentiles? No, it was the eating that was the problem. The ‘circumcision faction’ in this case sent by James was concerned about ritual purity, or the Law of Moses. In this case we see that Peter believes he was in the wrong and called to repentance by James’s missionaries. Paul points out to Peter his own hypocrisy by saying “If you, though a Jew, live like a Gentile and not a Jew, how can you compel the Gentiles to live like Jews”(Gal 2:14). From this we can safely assume that not only did he start to keep kosher again, but that there was some expectation for the gentile converts to also follow The Law of Moses. Paul continues his thoughts in Galatians 2:15–21 emphasizing the importance of “not works of the law [of Moses], but through faith in Jesus Christ”.

Opposition in Corinth

In his first letter to Corinth we see, again, interlopers in Paul’s church, challenging his status as an apostle. There is some contention about the way that Paul is running his congretation. Unlike the visiting apostles Paul does not live off the generosity of his congregation. He works for a living, and that offends the visiting Petrine apostles who believe that preaching is labor, and “laborers deserve their food” (Matt 10:8–14).

This is more evidence of a fractured church. Hints of who these opponents are come earlier in this letter, by outlining the subject of Paul’s concern in the beginning of his letter:

For it has been reported to me by Chloe’s people that there are quarrels among you, my brothers and sisters. What I mean is that each of you says, “I belong to Paul,” or “I belong to Apollos,” or “I belong to Cephas,” or “I belong to Christ.” (1 Cor 1:11–12)

Among allegiances are Paul, Apollos and Peter (Cephas). Apollos is probably not the source of the division, as he had been Paul’s companion, in fact later in the letter he lamented that Apollos could not visit, but that he would come “when he has the opportunity” (16:12).

But what about Peter? What did Paul have to say about Peter? Nothing, at least not directly. But Paul may have indirectly criticized the man himself through metaphor, and contrast. After first using a amicable metaphor of tending a garden with Apollos he then sharply turns to a metaphor of building, of stone:

According to the grace of God given to me, like a skilled master builder I laid a foundation, and someone else is building on it. Each builder must choose with care how to build on it. For no one can lay any foundation other than the one that has been laid; that foundation is Jesus Christ. (1 Cor. 10–11)

Paul was defending the foundation he had built: “I laid a foundation”, he wasn’t about to let the Petrines ruin his work by claiming that the foundation stone of the church was Peter. This is echoed in Matthew 16:18, a tradition of Peter as the foundation of the church. Paul was trying to preserve the foundation he had laid: Christ. Also note the inclusion of Peter (Cephas) now in his writing after this metaphor:

So let no one boast about human leaders. For all things are yours, whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas or the world or life or death or the present or the future — all belong to you, and you belong to Christ, and Christ belongs to God. (1 Cor. 3:21–23)

Paul’s contempt for “human leaders” and external authority is again apparent here. Throughout his letters he is continually on the defensive against those who would put him in a lesser position relative to “the Pillars” in Jerusalem. Additionally, the use of the temple as a metaphor is one that Paul tends to use when addressing Petrine concerns, or, it seems that is a metaphor that he knows they will understand. By contrast when addressing his own congregations Paul he tends to use a body as a metaphor for the church, stressing the interdependence of the parts.

In these early interactions, it is again instructive what we do not see. There are no appeals to human authority. There is no discussion of organizational structure. There is no discussion of priesthood. Paul advocates for the gospel on its own merits, with his own apostolic authority which he credits to Christ alone.

Authority

Using Paul as a case study of how priesthood worked in the primitive church. Our Sunday School lessons do a good job of telling his pre-conversion story. An educated Jew, a Pharisee, a Roman. Persecutor of Christians, he was present at the martyrdom of Stephen. In 34, while on the road to Damascus he was visited by Jesus Christ in a vision. In his vision he was converted, and began his ministry.

At no time in the telling of this story in Acts is there a record of when Paul was ‘ordained’ or conferred authority. We know that this isn’t simply a gap in the record because Paul stated in his first known letters that he “Received the gospel not from man, but by “the revelation of Jesus Christ” (Gal 1:11–16). Rather than appealing to the authority of the Jerusalem church (which by the time he wrote Galatians he may well have done) he merely said his authority to preach was given by no man, and his gospel was from Christ. To restate, when he discussed his meetings with Peter, James, and John he related: “those who were supposed to be acknowledged leaders … they contributed nothing to me … recognized the grace that had been given me”. From the perspective of the priesthood we might say that Paul was given the keys to minister to the gentiles, and he received his authority directly from Christ, not from man. This should work, except that there is precedent in the Mormon church. When faced with a case of claimed angelic ordination Joseph clarified: while the keys of the kingdom are on earth, heavenly visitations will not be used to give the priesthood, or priesthood keys. In fact Joseph used Paul’s own experience with Ananias as an example that angels would not minister if humans could.

This brings up another question: could Ananias have ordained Paul as an apostle? We could speculate, but I would say the evidence is scant. Luke’s record in Acts has Ananias healing Paul, and blessing him “that he might regain his sight”. Soon after, Luke relates that he was baptized, presumptively by Ananias. After his baptism he “immediately began to proclaim Jesus in the synagogues”. In this case a healing by the laying on of hands was mentioned, as was a baptism, but there is no mention of priesthood ordination, or an ordination to an official office. In addition, at this point it is unlikely that Ananias was anything more than a disciple, or perhaps one of the Seventy. If ordination, or a conferring of authority were seen as important to either the Pauline or Petrine parties, you would think that Luke would have mentioned it, as one of the apparent goals of his Gospels, and particularly Acts was to reconcile these two traditions, though with a Pauline slant. In addition, given Paul’s documentation of the same event I’m not sure that Luke’s account happened at all the way he explains it. Paul said “I did not confer with any human being, nor did I go up to Jerusalem to those who were already apostles before me” (Gal. 1:16). His narrative makes me wonder if Luke’s account was a bridge to pacify liberal Petrines who believed some link to Jerusalem was necessary. If so, conspicuously missing is an accounting of Paul’s calling and ordination.

Not only are Paul’s actions a repudiation of authority through human transmission, but the Pauline influenced and oldest Gospel of Mark also reflects this position. I have heard often in Sunday School of the story told in Mark of stumbling blocks, millstones, and children. Without the frame this story is an interesting anecdote, and warning. Including the frame (Mark 9:33–50) the story becomes a warning from Jesus to those who would suppose authority to prevent others in proclaiming the gospel, or exercising spiritual gifts. Jesus helps the disciples to understand that they are servants; they are to welcome in even little children to their ranks (33–37). John then relates a story of a man who was casting out demons in Jesus name. They tried to stop him “because he was not following us”. Jesus said to them “do not stop him … Whoever is not against is is for us”. In a continuation within the frame, Christ referred to this erstwhile “someone” as “one of these little ones who believe in me”, rebuking his disciples “If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would have been better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea”. Jesus closes the frame by telling his disciples to rid themselves of those things precious to them that would be a stumbling block to recent converts, and work to be at peace with one another. This dovetails nicely with the Pauline principles of love above all other virtue, including ritual purity and the law.

Our understanding of transmission of authority and the confirming of priesthood offices as we understand it in the church today is not present in the earliest sources.

There was certainly laying on of hands, and ordination, but the kind of hierarchical pattern we adhere to is certainly not there, it seems more egalitarian, democratic, and less restrictive.

Where we would expect an appeal to authority, Paul doesn’t give us one. Where authority is used to suppress the use of spiritual gifts, Jesus rebukes his disciples and tells them that they are being short sighted, and potentially placing their own salvation and the salvation of others in jeopardy.

Taylor G. Petrey writes about early apostleship in his paper Purity and Parallels, which makes many similar points about priesthood organization and authority in the New Testament. Particularly, that our conception of Apostleship is anachronistic in the ancient world, and that in our searches for these concepts in the early church raises the specter of creating “early Christianity in [our] own image”.

Escalations

Looked at as a whole, Paul lost nearly every battle in which he engaged in with the Paulines. In Antioch (Gal. 2:11–14), his missionary companion sided with Peter and the missionaries sent from James. Paul had to swallow his pride to prevent the total loss of his congregation. His Gentile converts had to eat Kosher meats and accept a more strict sabbath observance. Paul accepted the supervision of a Jewish Christian, Silas, whose “mischief” (Goulder, p183) confused the converts to Paul’s gospel. At Derbe Timothy, his half-gentile convert was forced to be circumcised (Acts 16:1–3). Continuing problems in Thessalonica, Corinth, and a partial rebellion against Paul in Ephesus plagued Paul’s later mission. As the pastorals lament “all who are in Asia have turned away from me” (2 Tim. 1:15).

But slowly the tide began to turn. Some of the leadership in Corinth and Galatia supported him against the tide of Petrine evangelizing. In spite of these conflicts Paul returned to Jerusalem. He arrived in about 57CE with offerings for the poor, fulfilling a request from the Jerusalem church during their last conference. It could have gone worse, but not much:

“The resistance in Galatia, Corinth, with Paul’s connivance, showed that he was a reprobate and a heretic. His money was refused, and it was with Jewish Christian collusion that he was attacked in the temple, and nearly lynched, imprisoned and finally sent to Rome to his martyrdom.” (Goulder, p185)

The reluctant concord between Paul and the Petrines had broken down. When the ascetic, communal, and probably very poor Petrines refused a monetary offering from Paul there was little doubt as to the state of their relations. Jerusalem considered the Paulines as something other than them. Unworthy of association, even their offerings were defiled. Things never got better. For the Petrines, things were about to get a lot worse.

In 70CE, in response to yet another messianic movement, Jerusalem was sacked, the temple destroyed, and the Jews were expelled from the city, including Jewish Christians. From the History of the Church, Eusebius effectively relates a census of the churches that happened at about 190CE during a dispute over the observance of holy days. In a review of the debate, Goulder accounts for Bishops in Caesarea, Jerusalem, Palestine, Rome, Gaul, Pontus, Lyons, Osroene, Corinth, bishops of the ‘whole of Asia’, but he notes:

“Where are the great diocese of Syria, and Egypt — Antioch, Damascus, Alexandria, and points east? They are missing; and if they had written among ‘the great number of others’ we may be sure Eusebius would have cited them. The likely conclusion is they were not part of Christendom, as Victor and Polycrates understood it: they were heretical, Ebionites, as Irenaeus would have described them.”

At this point civility had broken down on both sides. Orthodoxy had been defined by history and there were those who were in, and those who were out. Both sides had rejected the ‘others’.

Apostasy

To me, it’s clear, that there was probably never a primitive church that we can point to and claim had a similar organization, or even a similar understanding of the gospel as we have today. If we accept this, what positive message can we take away from it?

Early in his ministry Paul worked to come to an understanding with the church in Jerusalem. Peter James and John seemed to meet him halfway. Can you imagine their conflicted discomfort when they learned that the very man who had been persecuting the saints, and gave comfort to the martyrs of Stephen was preaching of Christ in Arabia? They probably had some mixed feelings, but they were able to put their animosity aside to preach the good news.

If the fabled primitive church of apostolic ministry ever existed this loose confederation of believers was probably it. If so, what was apostasy? Could the Petrine Church have continued to co-exist with the Pauline church? The first orthodoxy was Petrine. Paul was tolerated, but at some point his defiance, his belief in the primacy of his gospel, and his own spiritual experiences made him intransigent. Peter, James and John knew Jesus, and couldn’t be convinced of Paul’s conception of Jesus Christ. On both sides the commandment to love their neighbor seems to have been broken. Was it their love of their own conception of God that led them to transgress the second law? When God tells us to love him, does that take precedence over the second law? Does the love of God ever require us to break the commandment to love our neighbor? In the middle of this conflict, John the evangelist, had something to say about this:

Those who say, “I love God,” and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. (1 John 4:20)

In this sense John simplifies the law further. There is one law, to love our neighbor. A church filled with love toward our fellow man would include the compassion required to understand the heresies of others, or at least understand that we all have our own set of heretical beliefs — known or unknown. Those heresies are borne of our own life experiences, sometimes incongruent with our once cherished, more orthodox, beliefs — overtaking them. For Paul, he couldn’t deny his vision of the risen Lord, and for Peter, James, and John they couldn’t deny the human side of Jesus Christ whom they knew, the traditions that he lived, or the words he spoke directly to them.

James and Paul agreed on few things, but in one of their earliest meetings he asked Paul to “Remember the poor” (Gal 2:10), which Paul said he was eager to do. In James’s late epistle he said: “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress.” (James, 1:27) Paul expounded on these thoughts when he said: “If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.” (1 Cor 13 :3) then continued:

Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. (1 Cor 13 4–7)

then he warned those who would impose their beliefs on others:

Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love. (1 Cor 13 8–13) [Emphasis, mine]

Paul’s knowledge was incomplete. None of us have a sure knowledge of everything from the beginning to the end. We are figurative children in our knowledge of God and the purpose of life. To have faith implies that doubt exists, that our knowledge is incomplete. In the absence of sure knowledge our duty is to love. Not show love, and then be critical of a lifestyle we don’t agree with, or show love then try to convert others to our way of thinking. It’s just love. Which includes fellowship and respect for their beliefs and personhood. If our way of love is superior because of our beliefs, that’s a nice side-effect, but it’s perfecting our love that perfects our faith, not vice-versa. As Adam Miller rendered Paul’s words in Grace is Not God’s Backup Plan:

“[W]e do not know the details of how God is going to set everything right. But while we’re waiting, we need to be careful. We need to make sure we don’t get carried away by our sketch of the plan and claim more than we actually know. This waiting is part of faith. For the moment, what we do know is that many insiders have hardened their hearts, and that many outsiders have greeted Jesus’s good news with joy. God is weaving all of our actions, good and bad, into his plan.” (Romans 11 25–26)

The differences in the church are smaller today than those of the Petrines and Paulines. In Mormonism there is a wide spectrum of manifest belief, but a narrow spectrum of accepted belief. In just the last year we have seen people who love this community leave or be removed from fellowship for various reasons. In many cases they felt, rightly, that their love for their fellow neighbors was more important than their love for the church, so they opposed the institution.

Somehow, in our culture, we have accepted an evil heresy: loving the church in the way it demands is more important than loving God, and manifestly, loving our brothers and sisters.

This is true apostasy, a stumbling block, and a millstone around the neck of the church. Let’s rid ourselves of it.