There is a kind of religious discussion that has become more common among thoughtful Latter-day Saints. I’ve been looking through more of it lately.
Much of it is sincere, intelligent, and compassionate. It tries to help people remain within the LDS Church while naming problems many members feel or have noticed but maybe don't feel comfortable saying out loud.
It speaks to those who still believe in the Restoration but for whom it has lost the clean, confident certainties of their growing up years. It acknowledges institutional problems, prophetic fallibility, historical issues, gender imbalance, scriptural messiness, and administrative and policy problems. It recognizes not every talk is doctrinally correct, not every policy change helps everyone, and leaders have and do say uninspired things.
I do not want to dismiss the value of these books, talks and podcasts. It can comfort people in complexity. It can help them feel less alone. It can create enough breathing room for faith not to collapse when the institution disappoints. It says things many Church leaders either do not say, cannot say, or are not in a position to say over the pulpit.
I keep feeling something as I read these authors and hear them share their views. It's that comfort in religious complexity is not the same as finding truth. A hallway can be a mercy, but only if there is a door to walk through. If religious writing helps people survive the collapse of their religious certainties, but never points them toward revelation, repentance, a covenant, and the actual recovery of God’s work, then it may accomplish an important early mercy but stops short of the Gospel it professes.
That is the gap I keep feeling. The gap is not honesty, intelligence, or compassion. There is plenty of all three. The gap is what happens next.
Compassion, tolerance, and making room for people who no longer fit the simpler LDS mold are all good, but they are not the end of the Gospel.
If the Restoration is unfinished, then the main question can't just be whether we stay in the Church or leave it. It can't just be whether we become more patient with imperfection, or more charitable, as valuable as those things are. I feel like the deeper question is whether God is still offering something to be received: scripture, a covenant, correction, repentance, priesthood, Zion, even God's own presence.
At some point, a person has to ask: Is the purpose of religious honesty just to preserve enough faith to make continued LDS membership tolerable? Or is the Gospel pointing somewhere else?
That is the question I cannot shake.
The modern Latter-day Saint hallway
From where I sit, and the portion of the world I observe, more thoughtful Latter-day Saints today seem to occupy a middle space. Some remain content with the simplicity of accepting whatever the Church and/or its leaders say or do. That's faithfulness in some people's eyes. Others have been confronted with challenges about Church history, authority, and no longer believe the simple version of things.
But neither have they left. I respect that. Even when earlier Sunday School explanations do not hold up under scrutiny, people still want faith. They stay, often sincerely. They stay because they love their people. They stay perhaps because the Book of Mormon still speaks to them. They stay because their spiritual life was formed in the Church and has meaning. Perhaps they stay because leaving would feel like amputating part of themselves. Some say they stay because they believe God is still there, even if the institution and its leaders are way more human than they once thought.
That kind of staying can be noble. But again, I question this middle zone as a destination and resting place of one's faith. I am not saying the middle zone is worthless. I am saying what if it's best viewed as transitional?
The risk I see is that the new articles of faith become: “We believe it's complicated, but we stay anyway".
Prophets? Complicated.
Scripture? Complicated.
Priesthood? Complicated.
Church history? Complicated.
Gender? Complicated.
The temple? Complicated.
Authority? Complicated.
The Restoration itself? Complicated.
"It's all complicated, but it's all ok because we're all imperfect" becomes the mantra. Yes, many of those things really are complicated. But complexity wasn't what the Gospel was pointing our minds to. Scriptures speak of higher levels of faith that produces saving fruit and increased understanding and light. That sounds like the resting place of faith we all deep down long for but don't always know how to find.
As I've read these books, essays and listened to the podcasts, I see a risk. The risk seems to be adopting a form of faith that can survive complexity but struggles to find the right truth to anchor to. While these writings ask tough questions, often they don't land on a satisfying answer. Which sort of turns the endurance marathon into the destination. I feel like it quietly stops asking the most unsettling religious questions:
What is our actual LDS institutional standing before God? What if it's worse than we assume? What if scripture’s warnings apply to us more directly than we dare admit? That question forces another question: What is God asking of us in our day? What does actual repentance look like? Does God have covenant people on earth, and if so, what are they expected to do beyond deconstructing previous beliefs or becoming more accepting?
Deconstruction is not restoration
Latter-day Saints should understand this better than anyone: deconstruction is not the same as restoration. This is not to say deconstruction isn't necessary or helpful. I've seen it be helpful. But the Restoration did not begin because Joseph Smith was engaged in deconstructing his religious beliefs while remaining within them. It began because he took the confusion seriously enough to ask God. And when God answered, Joseph did not merely write a book, publish an essay, or give a talk about remaining faithful to a denomination when dealing with his religious confusion or ambiguity.
He acted. He translated. He gathered. He baptized. He organized. He received commandments. He brought forth scripture. He made covenantal claims. Were there things to deconstruct? Sure, but the point was restoration of truth.
The Restoration was not about staying true to whatever religious tradition you inherited. And I don't think it's any different now. In Joseph's day the restoration was a full-blown intervention. It claimed that heaven had spoken again. It claimed that scripture was not closed. It claimed that God intended to establish a covenant, gather Israel, restore knowledge, and prepare a people. It didn't just ask people to be more compassionate or more tolerant. It asked people to sacrifice, develop saving faith, and accept that God was moving and you had a choice to come aboard.
It also forced an issue that I think everyone has to face at some point: That you cannot both claim to follow Christ and also reject the messengers Christ sends (i.e., Joseph Smith). But that assumes you have correctly identified Christ's messengers. That is one of the tests this middle-ground Mormon discourse does not seem to spend much time on. Our inherited traditions make that question very challenging. The answer threatens the fabric of what we've been taught for decades.
I certainly hope the Restoration today is not simply a therapeutic resource for managing religious complexity. Either it continues as a living work of God and requires the same kind of response it required in prior dispensations, or it becomes simply an inherited religious culture with unusually interesting historical and modern problems.
But much of the modern Latter-day Saint discourse seems to end before that. It is willing to say, “The Church is not as simple as we thought.” It is willing to say, “Prophets are fallible.” It is willing to say, “Our scriptures have a human element.” It is willing to say, “The institution has changed before and may change again.” or “LDS Church leaders/prophets have been and still may yet be wrong.”
All of that may be true. But then what? Are we willing to ask "what happens if God acts outside of our religious institution altogether"?
This doesn't mean be reckless. It does not mean every institutional disappointment proves God is elsewhere. It does not mean every new spiritual claim is true. But if we believe in an unfinished Restoration, then we cannot rule out that God may speak, gather, correct, or offer a covenant in a way our traditions did not prepare us for.
How do we know or what do we measure with?
One observation that's stayed on my mind is that in the LDS church we've slowly lost touch with some of our best measuring sticks. Our traditions and conference talks are becoming our standard and are given greater weight than scripture. The scriptures were supposed to be the standard by which we measure what we're taught. But if we don't know them, don't understand them, or use them to simply proof text what we already believe, they won't work. So if LDS Church prophets are fallible, then how does God actually authorize His work? How do you actually discern when Church leaders are acting as men or as prophets of God?
If scripture has been mishandled, then what does it mean to recover scripture?
If the Restoration is unfinished, then who is willing to receive more, and what is the process to do so? Do we wait on the institution who raised us to answer and deliver restoration to us?
If corporate management is indistinguishable from current LDS prophetic council, then what should you and I do besides give each other breathing room to linger longer in the hallway?
These are not just interesting questions or side questions. They are right in the middle of it. They are the questions the Restoration itself forces.
Awareness, empathy, inclusion, and gradual institutional improvement are good things, but they may miss the larger Restoration claim: that God is not merely asking us to improve the existing LDS atmosphere. He may be asking us to accept a new offer.
The danger of both staying and leaving
"Staying" vs "leaving" the church, I think misses the point. There are dozens of reasons to do either. There are perhaps more reasons to stay, and doing so can sometimes assist others who also see issues but yet want to remain part of their community and retain the good of their faith. And sometimes that is wisdom.
But staying vs leaving leaves a 3rd alternative unexplored. In Joseph Smith's day, just finding reasons to stay in whatever Church you belonged to wasn't going to fulfill God's plan for the restoration, nor was it going to make you part of it. What if it's an assumption that the LDS institution is the vehicle and the only vehicle through which God will complete the restoration?
The question is not merely, “Did you stay?” or “Did you leave?” The real question might be: “Did you receive?”
The gap I see is that finding interesting or unique reasons to stay can become a way to remain permanently unclaimed by anything. You’re in the Church, but on your own terms. You accept doctrine, but only when it still feels acceptable. You see the claims critics make about scripture and see behind the curtain enough that you no longer fully trust the Church’s claims, but neither do you fully let them go. Which leaves you in a sort of limbo.
I'm not saying you need to up and join another church, like in Joseph's day. What I am putting forward is the idea that, scripturally speaking, very often God's work is not taking place where the people think it is. The Jews did not expect an "outsider" like John the Baptist. Christians did not expect a young Joseph Smith to be what he was. At this moment in time, maybe “The Lord’s Church” is more covenantal than institutional.
An unfinished Restoration requires a response
The phrase “ongoing Restoration” is very common in Latter-day Saint writings and leaders' Church talks. But it is often used vaguely as a reference to whatever change comes next. It can mean administrative adjustments, new programs, shortened meeting schedules, policy revisions, temple changes, or sleeveless garments.
But if the Restoration is truly ongoing, then the stakes are much higher than administrative policies. It's very possible we've allowed ourselves to become confused at what is a policy change vs a revelation. This should be straight forward but the lines become blurred if the measuring stick God gave gets overlooked.
An ongoing Restoration means God is not finished speaking. It means scripture is not merely a historical artifact. It means covenant is not merely a word attached to temple attendance or membership. It means priesthood is not an office. It means Zion is not a branding concept. It means the Book of Mormon is not merely a missionary tool and marker for being the only true church. It means Joseph Smith’s work and teachings may not even be present in highly correlated lesson manuals.
It means we may have to ask whether the Restoration, as heaven intended it, is going to come from where we were taught to expect it.
That question is uncomfortable. It should be. It cuts. It does not merely point out an institution's flaw. It points out all of ours. It asks whether I have received what the Gospel offered, and if not, why? It asks whether I want God or merely religious belonging that fits my traditions.
A Restoration faith cannot be content with endless analysis. It must eventually ask: Has God offered something new, and is God doing something today? And if so, am I willing to receive it?
Or do my traditions keep me lingering (dwindling) in my beliefs?
The difference between staying and receiving
There is honor in acting in faith. There is honor in remaining with people who are flawed, patient with leaders who are limited, and charitable toward a community that is still growing. That's Christlike. My point is that if that's all we focus on, we may miss what God is doing in our day. Simply “staying” in the LDS church is not the highest form of faith. Receiving is.
A person can stay in the church and not receive what God is offering. And a person can leave the church and not receive what God is offering. So we come back to the real question which is not did you stay or did you leave, it's did you receive?
That question cuts through the religious fog of our day. Did you receive light? Did you receive correction? Have you been born of God? Has God offered and taught things you are not currently even aware of?
If God spoke outside your religious framework, would you know about it? If you were a Jew back in the day, on what grounds would you have accepted John the Baptist or Jesus? If you were a random Christian in Joseph Smith's day, on what grounds would you have accepted Joseph?
Those are pertinent questions applicable to today if you contemplate that God is not required to fulfill His work via the LDS Church.
Beyond the hallway
What if God is offering more?
At some point, the Restoration asks more of us than the ability to discuss difficult things honestly and openly. It asks whether we will receive the things God has given, including the things that expose our idols, threaten our status, unsettle our inherited loyalties, contradict our religious traditions, and require us to act in faith.
The Restoration's goal wasn't to help us feel better about our religious institutions in order to remain in them. It was to actually restore something. It exists to bring us back into the presence of God. A teaching once taught by Joseph but is largely absent from LDS curriculum now.
I believe at the end of the day the Gospel requires more than "staying in the Church". And certainly more than leaving it.
So yes, let's be honest. Let's be compassionate. Let's admit that things are complex and messy. Let's stop pretending every inherited answer is sufficient. But then let's also ask the next question. What does the unfinished Restoration require me to receive that I have not yet received? What is God actually saying in our day, and is it still found within the LDS church? And if not, where can I find it?
These are the questions that turn religious honesty into discipleship. They move us beyond the hallways of our traditions and into God’s light.

