Famine in Zion
Chapter 4: Fed With Milk (part 1)
There are undoubtedly many Latter-day Saints who will have read the previous chapter and found themselves deeply unsettled that the descriptions ring painfully familiar. For such individuals, the list of observed symptoms tied to scriptural illiteracy will not read as abstract theory or distant critique. It will instead reflect personal experience, ward culture, and spiritual atmosphere with an almost uncomfortable precision. I count myself among them. I have observed and lived most of these red flags firsthand. I see them in Church meetings every week.
The symptoms of spiritual hunger are not merely scattered, isolated anomalies. They appear to be widespread. In my view, the average stake of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints typically exists somewhere between stage 3 and stage 4 of spiritual starvation at any given time, meaning stages 1 and 2 are already completely realized. And while this work focuses specifically on Latter-day Saints, I do not believe we are uniquely afflicted. These trends are discernible across many branches of modern Christianity, particularly in an era marked by accelerating secularism, intellectual fragmentation, and a growing cultural perception that God is increasingly distant or irrelevant.
For those who resonate with this assessment, it is only natural for questions to arise. When did this process of spiritual starvation begin? How did things progress to this point? Is there a tipping point beyond which recovery becomes impossible? What are the consequences of prolonged spiritual malnourishment? These are serious, urgent questions that deserve thoughtful, scripturally grounded reflection.
It is crucial to reemphasize that the majority of these challenges are not the result of malice, rebellion, or institutional betrayal. It would be a mistake to interpret the preceding chapter(s) as an accusation. In most cases, the underlying causes of doctrinal drift and scriptural disengagement are not sinister, but deeply human—rooted in neglect, fear, fatigue, misunderstanding, and cultural inertia. These problems are symptoms of spiritual starvation, and while their consequences are serious, their origins are often subtle, layered, and complex.
There are many reasons why Latter-day Saints may resist or avoid deeper engagement with the scriptures. For some, it is a fear of conflict—especially in a religious culture that emphasizes unity, harmony, and peace. For others, it may be a lingering discomfort from prior ecclesiastical or interpersonal trauma, where moments of theological tension or open questioning led to exclusion, misunderstanding, or pain. In such cases, deep study may feel threatening rather than life-giving.
Still others may avoid the scriptures due to a sense of inadequacy. The language of scripture—especially in the King James Bible and the Book of Mormon—can be challenging, filled with symbolism, historical references, and theological concepts that require effort and patience. Without sufficient scaffolding, members may conclude that scripture study is a task for the academically gifted or spiritually elite, rather than a divine inheritance accessible to all.
In some cases, members may have absorbed an unspoken culture of anti-intellectualism or doctrinal minimalism, where deep questions are dismissed as distractions from “what really matters” or are subtly pathologized as signs of spiritual pride. Phrases like “that won’t affect your salvation” or “we just need to focus on Jesus” may, in context, reflect sincere concern, but they can also function as theological escape hatches—mechanisms for avoiding engagement rather than invitations to seek further light and knowledge.
I once heard a sister express her position in a moment of striking candor—“If I’m wrong about anything [re: faith/religion], I just don’t want to know. I’m honestly more comfortable not knowing.” This was a voice that had been conditioned to see spiritual complacency as faithfulness. And in truth, she was not an outlier. There are many like her. We have, in too many settings, cultivated a religious culture that does not hunger for the scriptures because it does not know what it is missing.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints began as a profoundly scripture-focused organization. From its inception, prophetic instruction and congregational learning revolved around close reading of the Standard Works. It is only within the last two to three generations that the Church experienced a significant shift away from this scripture-heavy model of instruction. This gradual transition began to take shape in the mid-20th century, with its most noticeable developments emerging in the 1960s and accelerating thereafter. What follows is a brief historical overview tracing the evolution of Church teaching practices and the diminishing centrality of scripture in official curriculum.
In the early Restoration period, nearly all formal Church teaching centered directly on scripture. Sabbath School meetings in Kirtland and Nauvoo often featured scripture memorization and recitation. Sermons typically began with a scripture reading followed by interpretive commentary, a pattern influenced by Jewish midrashic tradition. Joseph Smith consistently emphasized the scriptures as the source of doctrinal authority, instructing elders to “preach the gospel…and to teach the gathering as set forth in the holy scriptures” (Ehat & Cook, “The Words of Joseph Smith,” 1980). Scripture was not a backdrop. It was the curriculum.
During the pioneer era in Utah, the use of scripture remained prominent. The Journal of Discourses captured sermons in which Brigham Young and others routinely grounded their teachings in the Bible and Book of Mormon. Sunday School and Relief Society meetings were structured around reading and expounding scripture. While emphasis on modern prophetic guidance increased, the Church’s instructional culture still treated the scriptures as the primary teaching texts.
In the early 20th century, the Church began systematizing its curricula under the direction of President Joseph F. Smith. The Correlation program, initiated in the 1920s and expanded through the 1940s, aimed to coordinate teaching across the growing global Church. During this period, however, scriptural engagement remained robust. Seminary, Sunday School, and auxiliary manuals continued to be organized around the Standard Works. Correlation initially functioned to unify—not simplify—doctrinal teaching.
By the 1960s, a more substantial shift began. Correlation leadership increasingly focused on doctrinal principles over sequential scripture study. Home and Church curricula were restructured to strengthen family gospel teaching. In 1965, the first Family Home Evening manual was released, emphasizing practical application rather than scriptural exposition. Sunday meetings likewise began to prioritize gospel principles such as faith, repentance, and family unity. Though still anchored in scripture, the structure and tone of lessons moved from verse-by-verse study to topical reinforcement of core doctrines.
The 1970s saw the full institutionalization of Correlation. All Church curricula were brought under centralized oversight. A new four-year rotation was introduced to ensure systematic study of each of the Standard Works. While scripture remained central in name, teaching methods increasingly focused on summarizing doctrines rather than engaging deeply with text. Classes were designed to reinforce key gospel themes (e.g., Atonement, covenants) rather than explore entire scriptural narratives. Still, from 1972 to 1986, official instructions emphasized that the scriptures themselves were to serve as the student manuals, with teacher guides facilitating classroom discussion (El Call, “A Timeline of LDS Sunday School Manuals,” August 2022).
A major structural shift occurred in 1980 with the adoption of the three-hour block schedule. This consolidation—while efficient—reduced total teaching time for each class. In 1987, the Church introduced student manuals containing lesson summaries and commentary, replacing reliance on open scripture. For the first time since 1972, members were no longer directed to bring only their scriptures, but were given pre-outlined lessons. This marked the first real departure from a scripture-heavy model Church-wide. Lessons became increasingly simplified, emphasizing key takeaways and application rather than close textual engagement.
In 1998, the Church introduced the Teachings of Presidents of the Churchseries for Relief Society and Elders Quorum. These manuals compiled quotations from past prophets and organized them thematically. Scripture was referenced, but prophetic commentary took center stage. Simultaneously, youth and young adult programs shifted to topic-based instruction, further moving away from scriptural narrative in favor of lesson themes and personal stories. By the end of the 1990s, most Church instruction emphasized doctrinal application over scriptural exploration. This curriculum remained in use until the launch of Come, Follow Me in 2019.
This timeline highlights a gradual but definable arc from verse-centered teaching rooted in scripture to principle-based instruction guided by correlated manuals. The aim of this shift was clearly not to devalue scripture but to create unified, teachable content for a global Church. Nevertheless, it resulted in a reduction in scriptural fluency and exegetical depth across general Church curricula. Understanding this evolution is essential to recognizing both the strengths and limitations of the Church’s current model.
There is no sole individual or isolated moment that singularly accounts for the modern Church’s shift away from scripture-centered teaching. However, if one were to identify the most pivotal figure in this transition, President Harold B. Lee emerges as the most likely catalyst. While the formal Correlation movement was launched under the administration of President David O. McKay, it was Lee—then a member of the Quorum of the Twelve—who most forcefully articulated, designed, and implemented the structural transformation that would redefine Church teaching for generations.
President McKay, though revered for his spiritual vision and global outreach, had little appetite for administrative overhaul. He valued the home and expressed concern about rising secularism, but did not aggressively pursue curricular reform. Harold B. Lee, on the other hand, possessed a temperament suited to institutional engineering. Seeing widespread inconsistency in Church teaching—where auxiliaries operated semi-independently and sometimes taught conflicting interpretations of doctrine—Lee proposed a radical solution to centralize and correlate all instructional materials under First Presidency oversight.
This curricular realignment prioritized thematic consistency across age groups and auxiliaries, shifting from expository scripture study to principle-based instruction. The move was not merely instructional but cultural. Lee (and McKay, previously) were alarmed that Latter-day Saints were outsourcing spiritual education to Church programs, rather than taking responsibility for teaching the gospel at home. The 1965 formalization of Family Home Evening, with its accompanying manuals, underscored this concern. These materials emphasized practical gospel living, assuming that parents required simple frameworks rather than complex exegetical tools to reinforce doctrine.
Lee’s broader cultural context helps explain his instincts. A product of the early 20th century, he was deeply shaped by technocratic modernism, a worldview that privileged efficiency, order, standardization, and hierarchical control. His leadership reflected the command structures of the military and the managerial rationalism of the postwar corporate world. In that light, his Correlation program mirrored contemporary trends in education, psychology, and bureaucracy. The Church, under his influence, came to resemble a streamlined institution, not unlike the federal government or Fortune 500 organizations—efficient, centralized, and message-controlled.
While Lee’s reforms addressed real institutional needs, they also shifted the spiritual center of gravity. Gospel instruction became more accessible, but less scripturally rigorous. Manuals emphasized principles and summaries over passages and study. Over time, correlated teaching materials lost much of the prophetic texture and scriptural midrash that had characterized earlier Latter-day Saint discourse. In retrospect, what Lee envisioned as an inspired system for doctrinal clarity became, for some, a long-term trade-off—pedagogical coherence at the expense of doctrinal depth.
Interestingly, the prophets who followed Lee varied in how they related to this system. President Spencer W. Kimball, though approving of major Correlation fruits like the 1980 meeting block and revised missionary discussions, remained a deeply scripture-focused leader. His hallmark works—The Miracle of Forgiveness(1969) and Faith Precedes the Miracle (1972)—exhibit a robust, scripture-saturated tone, and his calls to repentance were rooted in prophetic seriousness. Ezra Taft Benson, his successor, went even further in calling the Church back to the scriptures. His famous 1986 charge to “flood the earth with the Book of Mormon” was a direct response to scriptural neglect and an implicit critique of what Correlation had inadvertently produced. Yet even Benson could not reverse the system. By the late 1980s, Correlation was not just a program—it was the operating system of the Church.
The three presidents who followed—Howard W. Hunter, Gordon B. Hinckley, and Thomas S. Monson—seemed to have fully embraced the correlated Church as the world they had inherited. President Hunter, though briefly in office, emphasized temple worship and did not meaningfully engage with curricula. President Hinckley expanded institutional infrastructure, accelerated global reach, and trusted the existing doctrinal system to serve the Church’s needs. His teachings emphasized clarity, warmth, and missionary appeal—tones that worked well in a correlated environment. President Monson, likewise, modeled a ministry of pastoral care and personal testimony, focusing on ministering, humanitarian service, and spiritual uplift. None of these leaders expressed concern about the effects of Correlation, perhaps because none of them really knew a Church without it.
That final observation is essential. Spencer W. Kimball and Ezra Taft Benson were both born in the 19th century—into a Church still shaped by men who had known Joseph Smith and Brigham Young. They inherited a culture of raw prophetic intensity and deep scriptural engagement. In contrast, Presidents Hunter, Hinckley, and Monson were born into the early 20th-century Church—a Church already moving toward centralization and experiencing the spiritual consequences of institutional drift. Their experience of the Church was not one of shift or loss, but stability and continuity. What may have felt to Benson like a crisis of scriptural illiteracy may have seemed, to his successors, like normalcy.
In light of the concerns and historical developments outlined thus far, it is both necessary and fair to acknowledge that many members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints may respond to this analysis by pointing to the substantial institutional efforts the Church has undertaken in recent years to reinvigorate scriptural engagement—most notably through the introduction of the Come, Follow Me curriculum. This response is not only valid but warrants thoughtful and respectful consideration, particularly in view of the program’s scope, design, and explicitly stated aims.
Launched in 2019 and designed to support a “home-centered, Church-supported” model of gospel learning, Come, Follow Me represents one of the most ambitious and far-reaching efforts in the modern history of the Church to return scripture study to the heart of daily discipleship. The shift in emphasis—from classroom-based instruction to home-centered learning—signals a significant reorientation of responsibility, moving gospel teaching away from institutional dependency and into the hands of families and individuals. This reflects a deep conviction that the spiritual vitality of the Saints must be rooted in personal and familial engagement with the word of God.
In practical terms, the Come, Follow Me materials have made scripture study more accessible to a wider range of learners. Weekly lessons are organized around the Standard Works, paired with questions for reflection, historical context, cross-references, and opportunities for application. The design is both modular and adaptable, allowing families of varying sizes, ages, and spiritual maturity to tailor their study to their own needs and capacities. For many members, Come, Follow Me has facilitated a more consistent rhythm of scripture engagement than ever before, especially among those who had previously relied almost exclusively on Sunday instruction for their spiritual nourishment. In this sense, Come, Follow Me could be viewed as a strength of the Church’s current approach to scriptural education.
Having introduced the Come, Follow Me curriculum in good faith—as a meaningful and institutionally commendable shift— it is now appropriate to undertake a more critical and evaluative examination of its structure and outcomes. While the aims of the curriculum are clearly stated and widely affirmed, there remains legitimate concern about whether the materials themselves, in both form and content, are robust enough to sustain the kind of scriptural literacy and doctrinal depth the Church claims to seek.
First, it is important to acknowledge that the Come, Follow Me manuals are structured as concise outlines rather than comprehensive lessons. This represents a significant departure from prior instructional models. For example, the pre-2019 Gospel Doctrine teacher manuals often began with extended introductions with historical vignettes, doctrinal commentary, and quotations from General Authorities or Church historians. These lessons were designed to fill a full class hour with structured instruction. In contrast, Come, Follow Me materials provide brief introductions, a selection of scripture passages, and a few open-ended discussion questions. As explained in one Church-produced FAQ, the curriculum “does not prescribe everything you should say and do in class…it suggests scriptures and other resources to help you learn the doctrine for yourself, followed by a few ideas to help learners discover the doctrine for themselves” (Church of Jesus Christ, “Come, Follow Me for Training Teachers and Leaders”). This reflects a deliberate shift from instructor-led exposition to learner-guided discovery.
On the surface, this might appear empowering. The curriculum assumes that members will take greater responsibility for their own gospel learning. Yet there is an inherent tension between accessibility and depth. The result is a set of materials that shorten and simplify both lesson preparation and reading load. A typical Come, Follow Me week now focuses on a small selection of verses or a single theme, and as of 2024, youth and adult classes have been further streamlined to use a single unified manual per quarter—Come, Follow Me: For Home and Church. This simplification does increase accessibility, but it also risks reducing doctrinal richness.
A comparison with previous manuals is informative, to say the least. For instance, the Doctrine and Covenants and Church History manual(s) included extensive commentary and historical background across multiple pages. Doctrinal insights were embedded directly into the text, and the structure of lessons often reflected a topical or sequential approach to scripture that assumed a baseline familiarity with key theological frameworks. In Come, Follow Me, that kind of scaffolding is largely omitted. The doctrinal content is now meant to be inferred, rather than stated, leaving it to the teacher or learner to supplement with additional resources. For some, this flexibility is welcome. But for others, especially those without extensive background in scripture or theology, it may result in ambiguity or doctrinal shallowness.
Church leaders have acknowledged this risk. One official source describes the new method as a “new way of learning” and compares scripture study to a treasure hunt, where learners must “dig a bit” to find spiritual insights (Church of Jesus Christ, “Learning a New Way of Learning”). While the metaphor is well-intentioned, it invites a difficult question—Why should spiritual nourishment, so often likened by Christ himself to physical nourishment, require concealment? When the soul is hungry, why must it dig through outlines and optional questions in the hope of discovering doctrinal substance?
This concern becomes even more acute when one considers the shift in institutional structure that accompanied the rollout of Come, Follow Me. In 2019, the Church reduced its weekly Sunday block from three hours to two, eliminating a full hour formerly dedicated to Gospel Doctrine instruction. While adult Sunday School has since been partially restored on a rotating basis, the time available for structured, teacher-led scriptural instruction has effectively been halved. President Mark L. Pace, formerly of the Sunday School General Presidency, reinforced the new direction, emphasizing that the “best thing” a teacher can do is leave students feeling motivated to study the scriptures at home. This comment is very telling that the Church now views Sunday instruction as a supplement to, rather than the foundation of, scriptural learning. Of course, this is not without precedent. It is, in fact, reminiscent of David O. McKay’s concern that Church programs could overshadow individual and family responsibility for spiritual instruction.
However, this model assumes that members are compensating for reduced class time with increased home study. But this is, frankly, a precarious assumption. Anecdotally and statistically, many families and individuals do not engage with the Come, Follow Me curriculum on a daily—or even weekly—basis. For those who lack strong habits of home study or who are spiritually undernourished to begin with, this shift has functioned less like an invitation and more like a quiet withdrawal of institutional support. The curriculum’s self-directed model assumes a level of motivation and scriptural confidence that, for many, simply does not exist.
To illustrate the real-world implications—assuming a generous 40 minutes of supplementary scripture study in each of the 26 weeks that adult Sunday School meets (accounting for stake conferences, holidays, or ward meetings), and assuming perfect attendance, members would receive just over 17 hours of institutional scripture study per year. In practice, this number is likely much lower. For many, this is all the scriptural exposure they receive. Combined with the often-therapeutic tone of sacrament meetings (as discussed in the previous chapter), the average member’s spiritual formation is being carried by just a handful of hours per year of shared scriptural learning—less than is even required for continuing education in many professional fields.
To be clear, the Come, Follow Me initiative is not inherently deficient. It represents an important and inspired effort to foster greater personal responsibility in gospel learning. But the shift to a home-centered model without adequately accounting for the literacy of its membership has created a pedagogical gap that risks widening unless directly addressed. A curriculum that is “principle-focused” may indeed help learners internalize key doctrines, but it also risks skipping over the nuance, complexity, and historical rootedness that has traditionally given Latter-day Saint theology its distinctive depth.
If the ultimate goal is deeper conversion to Christ—as the First Presidency has declared, and as stated explicitly in every publication of Come, Follow Me, including its early beta versions in the Church’s digital archives—then that aim must be measured not only by increased flexibility or participation, but by increased understanding. It must be rooted in covenant, nourished by the word, and shaped by the whole counsel of God (Acts 20:27).
It is important to recognize that prior to 2019, many Gospel Doctrine classes, auxiliary programs, and family-based study efforts operated with a patchwork of manuals—despite nearly five decades of the Correlation movement. In this regard, the Come, Follow Me project represents a significant improvement. Even a brief review of the digital archives—dated back to 2013—makes clear that this initiative was not hastily assembled. It reflects over a decade of careful, deliberate work directed from the highest levels of Church leadership. By consolidating instructional efforts across all age groups and harmonizing the rhythm of gospel study Churchwide, Come, Follow Me introduces a level of curricular unity that is arguably unprecedented in the modern history of the Church.
However, this strength of standardization must be held in balance with more sobering questions about the doctrinal content and intellectual demands of the current curriculum. While past materials were far from perfect, as has been established in this chapter, they often assumed, and therefore fostered, a greater level of doctrinal engagement and theological rigor than much of what is now offered in standard Church instruction.
Take, for instance, the widely used The Life and Teachings of Jesus and His Apostles manual, which served as the New Testament institute curriculum from 1979 into the early 2000s. This text offered extensive verse-by-verse exegesis, historical contextualization, and cross-references to modern and ancient scripture. Doctrinal application was paired with rigorous textual analysis, and the manual frequently drew upon General Authorities, early Christian thinkers, and even respected Protestant theologians to enrich understanding. It was virtually the only resource of its kind during a period when the Correlation movement had largely stripped scriptural complexity from other Church program manuals. It was a demanding resource far denser and more intellectually robust than the comparatively brief and question-driven format of Come, Follow Me.
It’s also worth mentioning that many Latter-day Saints in the 1980s and 1990s encountered doctrinal depth through the de facto influence of figures such as Elder Neal A. Maxwell and President Ezra Taft Benson. Maxwell’s General Conference addresses were widely quoted in Seminary, Institute, and Gospel Doctrine settings and offered an elevated scriptural vocabulary. Benson, meanwhile, had invoked a Church-wide emphasis on the Book of Mormon, warning against modern Gadiantonism, materialism, and institutional decline. These teachings demanded critical thought and reflection on difficult themes, including pride, prophetic rejection, and apostasy. Their cultural influence helped elevate the level of doctrinal seriousness within the broader Church, irrespective of the influence of the Correlation movement.
The intellectual atmosphere of religious education during this period was further reinforced by materials produced and assigned at Brigham Young University. Through the 1990s and early 2000s, many undergraduate religion courses required substantive readings and theological texts. Students engaged with the lectures of Truman Madsen, doctrinal commentaries by Bruce R. McConkie, and extensive selections from Hugh Nibley, James E. Talmage, John A. Widtsoe, and others. These sources often demanded careful interpretive attention, assumed a mature doctrinal vocabulary, and refused to dilute complex teachings for the sake of accessibility. Importantly, these resources were not confined to academia alone—they often shaped Seminary, Institute, and Gospel Doctrine discourse throughout the Church.
Even the Teachings of Presidents of the Church offered members a more historically grounded and doctrinally nuanced engagement with the faith, despite overt reduction of scriptural exegesis. These manuals certainly did not shy away from complex or challenging topics. They occasionally included bold teachings—Joseph Fielding Smith’s commentary on apostasy, or Brigham Young’s uncompromising views on obedience and sacrifice—that reflected the intellectual and theological priorities of their time. Members were not merely encouraged to extract broad principles, but asked to engage deeply with the actual words and ideas of prophets whose voices, though less familiar to modern Saints, formed the backbone of Restoration theology.
By comparison, the Come, Follow Me materials, though based on the Standard Works, are more principle-focused and significantly less analytical, offering simplified summaries and exploratory questions rather than sustained doctrinal exposition. While the flexibility and accessibility of Come, Follow Me may meet the needs of a broader spectrum of learners, it also risks flattening theological complexity and cultivating generations of Saints less equipped to wrestle with scripture or articulate the intricacies of their faith.
This leads us to what is perhaps the most difficult aspect of the Come, Follow Me program. While many members of the Church may regard it as a modernized teaching aid or a practical curricular refinement, it is essential to recognize that the program was introduced—and explicitly framed—by the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles in revelatory terms, particularly within the context of the October 2018 General Conference. From its initial announcement to its ongoing implementation, Come, Follow Me has been consistently described not merely as a product of committee or administration, but as the result of divine inspiration received through God’s ordained servants. The tone of official communications surrounding the curriculum, as well as its rollout and reception, indicate that members are expected to regard the program as more than organizational improvement—it is intended to be embraced as inspired, perhaps even prophetic, instruction for our time.
This framing is theologically significant because it redefines how faithful Latter-day Saints are meant to evaluate and respond to the curriculum. If Come, Follow Me is the fruit of revelation, then its adoption becomes a matter not only of educational policy but of covenantal alignment. For those with deep reverence for prophetic leadership, this imposes a sacred obligation to take the curriculum seriously in spirit and practice.
In the interest of transparency and doctrinal integrity, I must now address a tension that may be difficult but necessary. To speak plainly—while Come, Follow Me represents a step forward in certain respects, particularly in its increased emphasis on the Standard Works, it also constitutes, in my view, a significant regression in several far more critical areas, which this chapter has sought to examine in depth. Namely:
True Engagement. The curriculum often lacks the scaffolding necessary to foster deep doctrinal wrestling or textual exploration. It presumes, rather than cultivates, scriptural fluency.
Doctrinal Depth. Compared to previous curricula, Come, Follow Me offers significantly less exposition, historical framing, or theological commentary.
Church-Supported Learning. The pivot to home-centered study has resulted in a substantial reduction in structured, teacher-led instruction, placing heavy reliance on self-directed learning without sufficient institutional support.
Symbolic and Canonical Integration. The curriculum frequently omits opportunities to explore cross-scriptural patterns, covenantal typologies, or even temple symbolism that would enrich doctrinal understanding.
Theological Confidence. By minimizing explicit doctrinal explanation, the curriculum often leaves interpretation almost entirely to the learner, which may inadvertently foster uncertainty or theological minimalism.
To be clear, these critiques are not offered as a rejection of the idea that Come, Follow Me is inspired. I do not assert that the curriculum is devoid of revelation. What I am suggesting, however, is that the form of that revelation may be preparatory rather than complete. Come, Follow Me may function as a sort of framework, a first iteration intended to establish individual and familial responsibility for gospel learning. But as it currently stands, it is difficult to see how its structure alone could achieve the kind of deep scriptural literacy, doctrinal resilience, and covenantal understanding that the Restoration demands in an increasingly secular world.
Thus, I find myself asking an honest and perhaps uncomfortable question—In whatsense is this curriculum revealed? If we believe that “man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God” (Matthew 4:4), then we must be willing to interrogate whether the curriculum, in both content and method, provides the substantive nourishment that the Saints require. We must allow for the possibility that inspiration can manifest incrementally, that it may begin with a simplified structure meant to awaken spiritual habits, but that further refinement may be urgently needed.
In this sense, I do not necessarily reject Come, Follow Me. I regard it as an inspired starting point—but certainly not a sufficient endpoint. Like many of the Church’s programs, policies, and educational tools throughout history, it may require continual revelation, correction, and expansion to meet the deepening needs of a spiritually maturing people. Revelation, after all, is not static. It is line upon line (2 Nephi 28:30). And it is precisely because we take seriously the prophetic claim of inspiration that we must be willing to engage the curriculum not only with loyalty, but with holy yearning for something richer, fuller, and more capable of transforming not just habits, but hearts.
For the spiritually hungry, the disillusioned, and the reflective Latter-day Saint, a natural and pressing question arises—How are we to reconcile the portrayal of the current scriptural curriculum as revelatory and inspired, with the observable reality that its content often feels preliminary, minimalistic, or lacking in doctrinal depth? In other words, how does one make sense of the fact that Church leadership presents Come, Follow Me not as a transitional or preparatory measure, but as a fully realized curriculum, designed, implemented, and sustained by revelation for the purpose of drawing individuals and families closer to the Savior?
To date, there has been no official acknowledgment that the curriculum is in any way incomplete or intentionally introductory. On the contrary, public statements and institutional messaging have consistently framed Come, Follow Me as the divinely appointed tool to guide the Saints in deepening their conversion, enriching their homes, and fortifying their discipleship. So, for those who resonate with the critiques offered in this work, this framing creates an understandable tension. How, one may ask, could a curriculum so clearly reduced in theological scaffolding and exegetical substance be the product of revelation?
My response to that question, though admittedly uncomfortable, is one I offer with sincerity and transparency—the Church does not always get it right. This is not an indictment, but a recognition of a deeply embedded doctrinal truth affirmed repeatedly by prophetic leadership. Prophets are not infallible. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints does not hold that its leaders are incapable of error. On the contrary, multiple prophets and apostles have explicitly acknowledged that mistakes can be made in the administration of the Church, especially in matters of policy, interpretation, or curricular design.
