Temple Sealing

Introduction Washington D.C. Temple — Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints My wife and I were married in the Washington D.C. Temple. That sacred space once represented everything I believed about eternal families, priesthood authority, and God’s restored Church on the earth. I do not take that lightly as I write this. What follows is not written out of bitterness or rebellion, but out of a sincere desire for truth, clarity, and ultimately, fidelity to Jesus Christ. I am writing this to explain how I arrived at conclusions I never expected to reach—and why those conclusions matter, not just for me, but for our children and for anyone sincerely seeking God. --- I’ve always had a tendency to dig deeply into things that matter to me. When a question presents itself, I don’t leave it half-answered. That same instinct carried into my faith. What began as a desire to better defend the restored gospel—especially in conversations with Catholics, Protestants, and later ex-Mormons—turned into something much more serious. It didn’t start with hostility. It started with conversations. I began engaging Latter-day Saints across social media—Facebook discussions, YouTube comment threads, private messages, and public debates. The topic that kept resurfacing, again and again, was the Great Apostasy. Everything hinged on it. If the Church truly fell, then Joseph Smith makes sense. If it didn’t, then everything built on that claim begins to unravel. So I started asking simple, direct questions: When exactly did the apostasy occur? Where is the historical record showing the Church lost all authority? How do we reconcile the Book of Mormon calling Jesus “God” with modern LDS theology? If God is truly omnibenevolent, why is access to Him tied to temple worthiness? Why does early Christianity look unmistakably Catholic rather than anything resembling LDS structure or doctrine? What I encountered was not clarity—but deflection, inconsistency, and at times, open contradiction. --- At one point, I remember asking whether God—if truly all-loving—is accessible to all or only to those deemed “temple worthy.” The response I received was that no one really makes a literal claim that God is only found there—that it’s more about a heightened spiritual environment. But that answer didn’t resolve the tension—it exposed it. If God’s presence is conditioned, restricted, or mediated through institutional worthiness standards, then we are no longer talking about a God whose love is without exception. That question stayed with me. --- As I continued these discussions, I also began comparing LDS claims with both Scripture and history. I watched debates. I analyzed arguments. I engaged directly with those defending Mormonism and those who had left it. Over time, patterns began to emerge: The burden of proof for a “Great Apostasy” was constantly shifted, but never historically demonstrated. LDS critiques of Catholicism often assumed what they needed to prove. The earliest Christian writings—those closest to the apostles—consistently reflected a Church that looked sacramental, hierarchical, and doctrinally stable. In other words, not apostate. --- What surprised me even more was discovering that some of the strongest contradictions weren’t coming from outside sources—but from within LDS scripture itself. Passages in the Book of Mormon—long before later doctrinal developments—spoke of one God, of Christ as both Father and Son, and of a unity that closely resembled the very Trinitarian theology later rejected as “apostate.” Early LDS teachings, including the Lectures on Faith, also reflected a different understanding of the Godhead than what is commonly taught today. That raised a difficult question I couldn’t ignore: > If the Restoration was meant to correct corruption, why do its earliest sources sound more like historic Christianity than modern LDS doctrine does? Before going further, I want to acknowledge something honestly. Reading this may feel uncomfortable. I understand that. I’ve felt it too. When deeply held beliefs are challenged, it can feel like something sacred is being threatened. In LDS culture, that discomfort is often interpreted as a warning from the Spirit. But I would ask you to consider another possibility: That discomfort can also be the natural response to confronting information that challenges what we’ve always assumed to be true. --- Elder James E. Talmage once said: “Nothing which cannot stand up under discussion and criticism is worth defending.” I believe that. If something is true, it should withstand scrutiny—not avoid it. As I continued this journey, one thing became increasingly clear: the question is not whether there were problems, divisions, or false teachings in early Christianity—Scripture itself acknowledges those. The real question is far more specific: Did Christ’s Church completely fail—losing all authority and truth—requiring a full restoration centuries later? Everything depends on that. Because if the Church did not fall, then it still stands. And if it still stands, then the claims built on its total collapse cannot. This is not an attack. It is an invitation—to examine, to question, and to seek truth wherever it leads. Because at the center of all of this is not an institution. It is Jesus Christ. And the question we must all answer is not simply what we’ve inherited to believe—but whether it is true.