Famine in Zion
Afterword
Famine in Zion was written from a place of faith—as a concerned yet committed member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Throughout the book, I have sought to make clear that, even in instances where I believe lapses in judgment may have occurred among General Authorities, I extend the assumption of good intent on the part of Church leadership.
Nevertheless, it would be intellectually dishonest to ignore the reality that several recent institutional decisions—such as the shift to a home-centered, Church-supported model; the watered down principle-based curriculum; the reduction to a two-hour Sunday block; and the elimination of scripture memorization requirements in youth programs like Seminary—represent deliberate moves away from rigorous scriptural engagement.
Scripture itself commands us to “try the spirits” and discern them “by their fruits.” In that spirit, one must at least acknowledge that such intentional steps away from scripture-based instruction could reasonably raise suspicion and concern. While it is difficult—and deeply uncomfortable—to consider the possibility that religious leaders might intentionally make decisions detrimental to the spiritual health of their community, history reminds us that such outcomes are not without precedent.
As a critical reflection, I believe it is worthwhile to entertain a theoretical exercise—What might a religious institution gain by fostering scriptural illiteracy among its members? The Book of Mormon repeatedly warns against secret combinations—clandestine factions such as the Gadianton robbers—who infiltrate societies, distort truth, and manipulate power for personal or political gain. Mormon and Moroni’s insistence on including these accounts suggests that such warnings were intended for our time.
While I am certainly not suggesting a direct comparison, the pattern of suppressing knowledge for institutional control is a cautionary tale worth considering. If we are to take the scriptural mandate seriously—to search, study, and treasure up the word of God—then it is imperative that we remain vigilant, not just as disciples, but as stewards of the restored gospel in its fullness.
An intentional tapering of a healthy scriptural diet can yield several consequential outcomes for a religious institution. Chief among these is the consolidation of doctrinal control—when scriptural engagement diminishes, few are equipped to recognize or challenge shifts in doctrine. Scriptural illiteracy also tends to reduce dissent, as members lack the theological framework necessary to evaluate or question institutional teachings. In such environments, leadership may more easily conflate sincere prophetic concern with apostasy, thereby insulating itself from critique.
Moreover, diminished scriptural engagement can facilitate broader institutional growth. Simplified messaging, devoid of theological nuance, is more easily exported and embraced across diverse global populations. Paradoxically, then, scriptural illiteracy can serve as an engine for expansion.
Perhaps most significantly, it fosters increased dependency on institutional authority. In the absence of personal scriptural fluency, members may find it easier to follow leaders than to “search the scriptures” for themselves. In each of these dynamics, interpretive power shifts from sacred text to institutional voice. While such a shift may seem functionally harmless, it poses serious risks if that authority becomes compromised by internal apostasy, institutional drift, or the influence of secret combinations.
In the case of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I cannot bring myself to seriously consider the aforementioned possibilities without experiencing a profound sense of unease. I continue to sustain both general and local leaders of the Church in faith and sincerity, and I strive to assume their best intentions. However, if I shift the question from what the Church might gain from the gradual reduction of doctrinal literacy—beginning in the Correlation era of the 1960s and accelerating in recent decades—to what it might lose by restoring such literacy, one answer becomes particularly clear.
A scripturally literate membership is better equipped to study and contextualize the scriptures broadly, including the Doctrine and Covenants, thereby engaging more critically with Church history. The Church has long struggled with transparency in its historical narratives, often sanitizing or omitting troubling episodes. In many cases, members have faced formal membership restrictions (disfellowshipment) or withdrawal of records (excommunication) for allegedly false claims that the Church later acknowledged as true. A recent example includes the 2025 publication in the Church’s digital library of the long-disputed 1886 revelation to President John Taylor, affirming the permanence of the practice of plural marriage—a document that for decades Church leaders publicly denied or dismissed as fraudulent.
While the Church has made strides toward transparency in the internet era—particularly in the past 10 to 15 years—it has still not adequately equipped members to navigate historical and doctrinal complexity. This is largely because teaching nuance often necessitates a degree of institutional humility, including acknowledgment of past errors or misleading representations. Studies and personal accounts repeatedly show that the predominant reason members leave the Church is not sin, apathy, or worldliness, but a deep sense of betrayal—most often related to historical issues and the perceived concealment of truth.
My sincere hope—and belief—is that this remains only a thought experiment, not a reflection of reality. To be clear, I am not suggesting that the Church is intentionally fostering scriptural illiteracy for institutional gain or to prevent institutional loss. However, I am suggesting that tolerating scriptural illiteracy is dangerous precisely because it leaves the door open for such corruption to take root. If that day ever comes, I certainly hope the Church prioritizes the preservation of its integrity over the preservation of its membership.
If the Church continues along its current trajectory of spiritual malnourishment, it is not only reasonable, but scripturally consistent to anticipate the rise of prophets outside the ranks of General Authorities. Such individuals, appointed by God, may be called to reprove, redirect, and restore a people who have drifted from the fullness of revealed truth. In that day, humility will be paramount, especially among those who wield ecclesiastical authority. The Brethren must be willing to submit not only to God, but to correction by voices He may raise up beyond formal hierarchy.
If history and scripture are any guide, we must also prepare for the possibility that these prophets will be rejected, marginalized, or condemned as apostates and heretics. Such a response would echo the sins of Israel, who stoned the messengers of the Lord and clung to tradition and ritual while forsaking true worship and covenantal faithfulness. To do so again would be to repeat the great tragic cycle of sacred history—where institutions harden their hearts, prophets are cast out, and God’s people fall under judgment. We would become, in effect, a modern-day Israel in apostasy, devoted to the shell of religion while emptying it of power.
It is for this reason that I earnestly pray for the leaders of that coming day. I pray that they will possess the spiritual courage to choose righteousness and repentance. May they be willing to hear the word of the Lord, even if it comes from unexpected places, and lead the Church into a better, holier path. The future of the Church may well depend on it.
