The Witnesses Who Never Took It Back

I’ve been thinking a lot about witnesses lately — what it means to stand by a testimony, especially when it costs you something.

The three official witnesses to the Book of Mormon — Oliver Cowdery, David Whitmer, and Martin Harris — occupy a unique place in Latter-day Saint history. Each of them saw the golden plates. Each of them bore testimony that an angel of God showed them the record and that they heard the voice of the Lord declaring it to be true. Their names are printed in every copy of the Book of Mormon, right there in the front.

And yet — every single one of them left the Church.

It’s not often emphasized, but it’s true. All three had disagreements with Church leadership or direction at various times and were, in one way or another, excommunicated or distanced from the faith community. Only Oliver Cowdery and Martin Harris later returned and rejoined the Church before their deaths. David Whitmer did not — but even he, until the end of his life, never denied what he saw.

That fact doesn’t prove anything on its own. But it’s compelling.

A Consistent Testimony, Even in Disagreement

Many critics of religion point to the human elements of disagreement, division, or leadership conflict as proof that something can’t be from God. And the early Church certainly had its share of tension, egos, and missteps. But what’s striking to me is that these three men — though they struggled with the organization — never once said their testimony of the Book of Mormon was false. They disagreed with Joseph Smith, but not with what they saw beside him.

David Whitmer, in particular, spent much of his later life outside the Church. And yet in a widely quoted 1881 interview near the end of his life, he reaffirmed his witness, saying:

“I saw the angel and I heard his voice… I know as well as I know anything that the work is true.”

That kind of consistency over decades — amid estrangement, controversy, and public scrutiny — is rare.

Not Proof, But Weight

None of this proves the Book of Mormon is true. Witness testimony isn’t scientific evidence. Even multiple people claiming to see the same thing can’t eliminate all doubt.

But it does carry weight.

I recently watched a show in which an atheist apologist discussed the Gospels in the New Testament. He argued that we don’t have direct first-person accounts of Jesus Christ — at least not ones we can fully verify. Most scholars agree that the four Gospels were likely written decades after the events they describe, and probably not by the people whose names are attached to them.

And yet, billions of people over centuries have come to believe in Jesus Christ based on those very testimonies — however distant, however disputed. Faith does not always need immediacy.

What strikes me about the Book of Mormon is that it includes something very rare in sacred literature: named, living witnesses to a supernatural event who left the Church but never recanted.

They didn’t stay because of loyalty to Joseph. They didn’t benefit from ongoing power or wealth. In fact, leaving the Church cost them social standing, friendships, and reputation. And yet, they never said it was a lie.

That doesn’t prove it’s true.

But it’s something.

The Measure of Scripture

The more I’ve studied scripture, the more I’ve realized something important: the truth of scripture is not and cannot be measured by the standards of science or historical methodology. That’s not a flaw — it’s by design.

We live in a world that tends to prioritize what can be measured, dated, verified, and peer-reviewed. And for many things, that’s exactly the right approach. But scripture — true scripture — isn’t trying to be a lab report. It’s trying to be literature in the highest and most sacred sense of the word.

That doesn’t mean the events described didn’t happen. I believe many of them did. But even if you could prove every miracle with a photograph, or verify every name on an ancient document, the point would still not be the data. The point would be what those stories do to your soul.

The Bible and the Book of Mormon aren’t court transcripts. They are divinely inspired literature meant to guide us toward God.

They teach through symbol, through narrative, through tension, failure, and redemption. They invite us not to simply observe — but to enter in. To wrestle, question, weep, and hope. To find ourselves inside the pages.

If they were only history, we might admire them. But because they are scripture, we are changed by them.

My Own Witness

I don’t believe in the Book of Mormon just because others said it was true.

I believe in it because it changed me.

I have knelt with it open in front of me, seeking clarity in the middle of pain. I have read it in the back rows of quiet chapels and in noisy airports. I have wept over it when life didn’t make sense. I have found Jesus Christ in its pages — not just referenced, but revealed.

It has taught me to repent, to forgive, to see others differently, to see myself differently.

Alongside the Bible, the Book of Mormon has become a sacred companion in my spiritual life. I do not see them as competitors or alternatives — I see them as two witnesses, united in purpose. It is the account of Jesus Christ found in both books, together, that forms the foundation of my testimony. Through them, I know who He is, what He taught, and how I can follow Him.

It is not a perfect book by the world’s standards. But it is a perfect book for my soul.

And like the witnesses, I have no incentive to say this unless I mean it.

I know this book is of God. I know it was brought forth by His power. I know that when Joseph Smith said it is “the most correct of any book on earth” and that a person could “get nearer to God by abiding by its precepts,” he wasn’t exaggerating.

I have felt its truth again and again.

And like those witnesses, I may not understand everything. But this — I cannot deny.