Messy Miracles

Embracing the Flawed Beauty of the Restoration

For much of the 20th century — especially during the global expansion of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the 1980s — a tidy version of our history was presented. Manuals told stories of prophets who never wavered, pioneers who never doubted, and decisions that always proved divinely inspired. This streamlined narrative offered comfort and confidence. But it also left something essential out: the mess.

Because real faith isn’t born in museums. It’s forged in wilderness. The Restoration of the gospel wasn’t clean — it was chaotic, complex, and deeply human. And that’s why it matters.

The Whitewashed Decades

As the Church expanded rapidly across the world, especially in areas unfamiliar with American religious history, leaders and curriculum writers leaned into correlation — a process meant to ensure doctrinal consistency and organizational unity. But in the process, something got polished. Smoothed. Sanitized.

Gone were the bitter disagreements in early Church leadership. Gone were most mentions of polygamy, the Mountain Meadows Massacre, or the theological debates that shaped our doctrine. We learned about Emma Smith as “an elect lady,” but rarely discussed why she didn’t travel west with the Saints. The tragic fallout between Joseph Smith and the Law brothers was cast aside as an unfortunate footnote. And rough-edged figures like Porter Rockwell were either ignored or made cartoonish.

For many of us growing up in that era, it wasn’t that we were told direct lies. It’s that we weren’t told the whole truth. And when the fuller story finally came — through books, independent research, or the internet — it didn’t just surprise people. It wounded them.

The Internet Pulled Back the Curtain

The internet didn’t create the messiness in Church history — it simply revealed it. Suddenly, members could access journals, court records, conflicting accounts of the First Vision, letters, and historical analyses that painted a more complete picture of the Restoration. For those raised in the “sunlight only” version of church history, this was jarring. How could something so inspired include so much contradiction? Why had they never heard this before?

I was lucky. My parents kept books in the house — histories, biographies, even novels like Lee Nelson’s The Storm Testament, which served as a gateway for my curiosity. I read about Rockwell. I dug into the Law brothers. I learned that Joseph Smith had flaws and struggles — and was still a prophet.

Instead of destroying my testimony, it made it real. Faith no longer required me to ignore facts. Instead, it invited me to wrestle with them.

Why the Mess Makes the Miracle

The longer I live, the more I’m convinced that the miracle of the Restoration isn’t that it unfolded perfectly. It’s that it unfolded at all. That God would choose imperfect instruments, work through their cultural blind spots and personal weaknesses, and still bring forth scripture, community, revelation, and covenant power — that’s astonishing.

The Atonement of Jesus Christ is not about handing over a polished résumé. It’s about handing over a flawed soul. The Church is no different. We are a people being shaped by grace. And our history reflects that same principle: growth through repentance, correction, and struggle.

We talk often about Joseph Smith as a prophet — and he was — but he was also a man who misjudged people, made political mistakes, altered his understanding of doctrine over time, and got things wrong. And yet, through him, the heavens opened.

We talk about Brigham Young leading the Saints west. And he did. But he also held views and made decisions that we now understand to be incorrect or harmful — particularly concerning race. And yet, the Church moved forward.

That’s not a contradiction. That’s the Restoration at work.

When Saints Leave and Stay

The messiness of history also invites compassion. It helps us understand why people left. Why Emma stayed in Nauvoo. Why William Law raised concerns. Why people who loved the gospel sometimes could not stay in the institution. That doesn’t mean they were right about everything — but it reminds us that not every departure is rooted in rebellion. Sometimes it’s pain. Sometimes it’s principle. Sometimes it’s just a different understanding.

Understanding this makes me more patient with doubt. It softens my judgments. It helps me honor the journeys of others while still choosing to stay.

More importantly, it calls me to repent.

I have family members and close friends who have left the Church. And too often, I’ve allowed their decision to become a wedge between us — a source of discomfort, awkwardness, or quiet judgment. But if I really believe what I claim — that the Atonement of Jesus Christ is about meeting people where they are, that the Restoration is messy and ongoing, and that discipleship takes many forms — then I must let that belief change how I act. I can’t say I believe in grace and then withhold it from the people I love.

This perspective doesn’t just help me understand Church history — it helps me be a better brother, friend, and disciple today.

Jesus Meets Us in the Wilderness

The scriptures are filled with flawed heroes. Moses murdered a man. Jonah ran. Peter denied Christ. Alma the Younger fought the Church before he served it. Why should we expect anything different from Latter-day Saints, or even their leaders?

Doctrine and Covenants 1:24 says it best:

“Behold, I am God and have spoken it; these commandments are of me… and inasmuch as they erred it might be made known.”

The Lord knew the Restoration would be messy. He expected mistakes. And He prepared for them.

That’s not failure — it’s design. Jesus didn’t come to perfect institutions. He came to redeem people.

Restoration Is Still Happening

One of the most beautiful truths of our theology is that the Restoration isn’t a one-time event. It continues. It corrects. It deepens. And sometimes, it repents.

In recent years, Church leaders have made remarkable strides in confronting hard truths. The Gospel Topics essays. Statements on race and the priesthood. Acknowledgments of historical complexity. These don’t weaken my testimony — they strengthen it. Because the willingness to course-correct is a divine trait.

President Russell M. Nelson said:

“We’re witnesses to a process of restoration… If you think the Church has been fully restored, you’re just seeing the beginning.”

That gives me hope. But I also want to be clear: there is still a long way to go.

There are still questions that aren’t answered. Still wounds that haven’t fully healed. Still institutional habits that need rethinking. And still members — especially women, LGBTQ+ individuals, and people of color — whose pain must be acknowledged and addressed more directly. Progress has begun, but restoration is not the same as completion.

We do not dishonor the Church by acknowledging this. In fact, I believe it’s one of the highest forms of faith: to love something enough to want it to grow closer to Christ.

The Restoration is not about creating an infallible Church. It’s about building a kingdom of saints — flawed, faithful, and still becoming.

Personal Reflections

I don’t expect perfection from the Church anymore. I expect progress. And I’m seeing it. I’m seeing more room for nuance. More honesty in our teaching. More compassion for those who struggle. More Christ in our conversations.

The same way I bring my whole self to Jesus — my questions, my pain, my regrets — I believe the Church must bring its whole history to Him, too. The light and the dark. The revelation and the regret. The victories and the violence.

Only then can the Atonement do what it was always meant to do: heal the whole story.

The God of Broken Things

I believe in Joseph Smith — not because he was perfect, but because God still used him. I believe in the Church — not because it has never erred, but because it keeps striving to repent, to improve, to follow the Lord.

And I believe in Jesus Christ — because He meets me, and all of us, exactly where we are. His Atonement is big enough for prophets and apostates, saints and skeptics, pioneers and latecomers. It’s big enough for Church history.

The Restoration is real. But it’s not tidy. It’s holy and human. And that’s why it gives me hope.