If I Were a Mormon: A More Coherent View of God

Over the past several years—especially since 2018—I’ve made multiple trips to Utah every year. I’ve honestly lost count of how many times I’ve been out there, but it’s starting to feel like a second home. I can understand why Brigham Young reportedly said, “This is the place.” It’s beautiful.

One of the things I appreciate most about Utah is the culture of open conversation. In many places, people are told to avoid discussing politics or religion. But that’s not the case in Utah. From a young age, Utahns are encouraged to think about what they believe—and to share it with others (often culminating in a two-year mission going door to door). That creates an extremely unique environment where meaningful conversations can actually happen.

Because of this culture, those who reject Mormon theology typically know why they reject it—and they are usually willing to talk about it. I sometimes joke that Salt Lake City is about half Mormon and half atheists—and much of that “other half” consists of either former Latter-day Saints (who have thrown the baby out with the bath water) or people who have moved there from California.

That said, my experiences have been mixed. While I’ve had many positive interactions, I’ve often found that deeper engagement with philosophy, metaphysics, epistemology, logic, and systematic theology is not always emphasized. As a result, I often leave Utah frustrated because the conversations don’t go as far as they could.

But that seems to be changing.

Increasingly, I’m meeting younger Latter-day Saints who are starting to take these disciplines seriously—thinking carefully, asking good questions, and engaging at a much deeper level. And that has led to some genuinely excellent conversations… and even new friendships.

That’s exactly what we need more of.

Over the years, I’ve also noticed something encouraging.

Many thoughtful, younger Latter-day Saints seem increasingly open to examining and refining certain theological assumptions that previous generations may have simply taken for granted. And historically, we’ve seen that the Latter-day Saint tradition is not entirely static. There have been meaningful developments over time—whether in relation to polygamy or the Church’s teachings regarding race.

I don’t bring this up as a criticism, but as an observation—and even as an opportunity.

If there is room for careful theological reflection and development, then perhaps there is also room to ask: What would it look like to retain the core commitments of Latter-day Saint belief while strengthening its philosophical coherence?

That’s the spirit of what follows.

And I want this to be a genuine conversation.

If you’re a Latter-day Saint reading this, I would sincerely welcome your thoughts. Feel free to engage in the comments, reach out on social media, give me a call, or simply grab me the next time I’m in Utah. I’ve learned a lot from these conversations over the years, and I’m always open to being sharpened by thoughtful pushback.

So, in that same spirit, I want to offer something a bit different:

If I were a Mormon, what would I believe in order to make my worldview as philosophically coherent as possible?

This is not a critique from a distance. It’s an attempt to build some bridges where we can reason together (Isaiah 1:18).

The Problem of Infinite Regress

Many Latter-day Saints affirm some version of an eternal chain of divine beings—Gods begetting Gods without beginning. As their prophet Lorenzo Snow famously stated:

“As man is, God once was. As God is, man shall become.”

Bill McKeever writes:

Although it is not found in any of Mormonism’s Standard Works, an expression that precisely defines the LDS teaching that men can become Gods was coined by fifth LDS President Lorenzo Snow. In June of 1840, Snow declared, “As man is, God once was; as God is, man may become.” Besides correctly illustrating the Latter-day Saint teaching that God was once a mere mortal man, this couplet also declares that man has the potential to become God. According to LDS theology, eternal life is synonymous with exaltation and godhood. In the words of LDS Apostle Bruce McConkie, “Thus those who gain eternal life receive exaltation. . . They are gods.” (Mormon Doctrine, pg. 237).[1]  

Taken at face value, this suggests an infinite regress of gods (and in my experience, most of the LDS members I talk with do affirm this view).

But I cannot accept an infinite regress for several reasons. Based on my study of infinity—going back to my graduate work in 2012—I am thoroughly convinced that an actually infinite past is not metaphysically possible.

Philosophy of Infinity

To see why, consider a simple point: infinity cannot be reached by successive addition.

If you begin counting—1, 2, 3, and so on—you can continue forever, but you will never arrive at “infinity.” No matter how long you count, you will always be at a finite number. You can always add one more.

This shows something important:

Infinity is not a number that can be completed—it is a limit that is never reached.

That’s why an infinite future is possible in a sense—it never ends—but it is never completed.

But now consider the past.

If the universe had no beginning, then an actually infinite number of events must have already occurred. And that leads to serious problems.

For example, consider a thought experiment often associated with the medieval philosopher Al-Ghazali. Imagine that our solar system has existed from the infinite past. Saturn takes longer to orbit the sun than Jupiter—roughly one orbit of Saturn corresponds to about 2.5 orbits of Jupiter.

Now ask:

If both planets have been orbiting from infinity past, which one has completed more orbits?

Intuitively, the answer should be Jupiter.

But if both have been orbiting for an actually infinite amount of time, then mathematically they have completed the same number of orbits—an infinite number.

That result is absurd.

Jupiter clearly orbits faster than Saturn, so it should have completed more revolutions. Yet the math forces us to say they are equal. This is one example of the paradoxes that arise when we try to apply actual infinities to the real world.

We can make the same point another way.

If the past were infinite, then the present moment could never arrive. It would be like trying to jump out of an infinitely deep, bottomless pit—there is no foundation from which to launch. Even if someone were given infinite jumping power, escape would still be impossible, because there is no starting point from which to begin.

But we are here.

The present moment is real.

Therefore: The past cannot be actually infinite.

[And I haven't even mentioned the Hilbert's Hotel thought experiment.]

The Bigger Problem

These examples are not mere curiosities. They point to a deeper issue:

An infinite regress of explanations fails to provide an ultimate explanation at all.

Even if each step in the chain is explained by a prior step, the entire chain remains unexplained.

So if LDS theology affirms an infinite regress of exalted beings, then it faces a serious philosophical challenge which opposes logic and reason itself.

A More Coherent LDS Starting Point?

If I were a Mormon, I would revise the model slightly.

I would affirm several core LDS commitments:

• A plurality of eternal “intelligences”

• Genuine libertarian freedom

• The importance of love and relationality

But I would reject an infinite regress of gods since that's logically impossible.

Instead, I would posit a foundational reality—one that explains everything else.

At this point, one might say: “One intelligence freely figured it out first—like a student solving a problem before the rest.”

That’s coherent. There’s nothing logically contradictory about it.

But it still leaves a deeper question:

Why that intelligence?

Appealing to libertarian freedom explains how something could happen—but not why it actually occurred. So while this move avoids infinite regress, it still leaves us with a brute fact at the foundation of reality.

From Brute Facts to Maximal Greatness

This is where I would go further.

Rather than grounding ultimate reality in a brute fact, I would ask: What would a maximally great reality be like?

If God is the maximally great being, then He must possess every great-making property essentially. And one of those properties is: perfect love (1 John 4:8).

Love, however, is not something a solitary individual can fully instantiate. As Dr. Kirk MacGregor has argued, love possesses two essential features:

• selfless mutuality

• non-possessiveness

These require:

• at least two persons (for mutuality)

• at least three persons (for non-possessiveness)

Therefore: One maximally great being must be essentially tri-personal. Nothing more, nothing less (since four or more persons is arbitrary and not necessary).

This conclusion is not derived from Scripture, but from philosophical reflection on the nature of love and greatness. Indeed, it follows from the deductive conclusion of the Ontological Argument (click here for more).

From Intelligences to the Trinity

So if I were a Mormon, I would say:

• Yes, there are eternal intelligences

• Yes, persons are real and irreducible

• Yes, love is fundamental

But I would also conclude:

Ultimate reality is not one intelligence among many, nor an infinite regress of gods—but a maximally great, tri-personal being who serves as the ultimate foundation and explanation of all contingent reality.

At that point, we are no longer talking about:

• a being who eventually becomes a god, but: a being who simply is God—necessarily and eternally.

Let’s briefly consider the logical coherence of the Trinity. To help connect these dots, consider an illustration popularized by William Lane Craig.

I do not think the Trinity is as “mysterious” as most people assume. Much of this clarity comes from my study of the immaterial soul and substance dualism. I do not merely have a soul; rather, I am a soul who has a body—and who can survive the death of that body. One day, I will receive a glorified body. So, I am a soul (a spiritual substance) with one set of cognitive faculties.

This seems coherent, and if so, then it is at least conceivable that God is: one immaterial spiritual substance with three distinct centers of consciousness.

Now, to be clear:

This does not imply three separate beings or three independent substances, but one unified immaterial spiritual reality subsisting in three distinct personal ways.

While most analogies of the Trinity fail (and regularly cross the line into heresy), William Lane Craig offers an illustration that helps illuminate key concepts.

Cerberus is the three-headed guard dog of Greek mythology. The three heads cooperate to function as one effective guard dog. The idea of a multi-headed animal is not incoherent.

Now imagine Hercules is bitten by Cerberus. Would he say, “Cerberus bit me,” or “One of Cerberus’ heads bit me”? Either statement would make sense. Cerberus is one canine being, yet each head is also canine because it is part of that one being.

Now suppose Cerberus were an ensouled creature (as I believe animals are) with three centers of consciousness. Each head could say, “I think that…”.

To make this vivid, imagine Hercules slays Cerberus by stabbing him in the heart—a fatal blow that ends the life of the entire organism at once. The physical body dies.

But suppose—like human persons—Cerberus possesses a single immaterial soul that survives the death of the body.

Now the picture becomes clear:

One immaterial substance remains—yet it grounds three distinct centers of consciousness, each capable of genuine first-person awareness.

Each could still say: “I think that…”

In this case, we would have: one immaterial or spiritual being with multiple “whos” (or as I like to say, “ONE what and THREE whos”).

The point of the illustration is modest: to show the conceptual coherence of one substance with three “whos”—not to equate God with a mythical creature.

Here's the bottom line: If this is even conceivable even in a limited and analogical sense, then it is certainly not logically incoherent as many Latter Day Saints (not to mention Muslims and atheists) have been led to believe.

Rethinking “Flesh and Bone”

At this point, many Latter-day Saints object:

“But God has a body of flesh and bone.”

Interestingly, in a recent conversation, one philosophically trained Latter-day Saint told me:

“Joseph Smith had no idea what he was talking about! He was a prophet, but he was not trained in philosophy, epistemology, or metaphysics. We have to take his true words with big grains of salt.”

That’s a remarkable admission. If that’s right, then we must distinguish between revelatory intent and metaphysical precision. And once we do that, a key assumption falls away: that “flesh and bone” must describe God’s ultimate ontological nature.

After all, Christians already affirm that the Son—the second Person of the Trinity—took on flesh and bone in the incarnation. So we must ask: Does appearing embodied entail being essentially material?

Clearly, it does not. In fact, even within Latter-day Saint theology, there is already a distinction between pre-mortal existence and embodied life, which suggests that embodiment is not essential to the nature of a person.

Moreover, as noted above, Christians already affirm that the second Person of the Trinity took on flesh and bone during His 33 years on planet earth. But that raises an important question: If the second Person of the Trinity can take on flesh and bone without ceasing to be an immaterial divine being, why couldn’t the first Person do the same? In fact, if God desires to reveal Himself to embodied creatures like us, we would expect Him to appear in ways in which we can perceive and relate.

And this is not a foreign idea to the biblical tradition. Many theologians have long held that divine appearances in the Old Testament—sometimes understood as pre-incarnate manifestations of Christ (theophanies)—demonstrate that God can present Himself in bodily form without being essentially material.

If that is right, then the ability to appear embodied does not entail that God is, in His essential nature, a material being.

So, ultimately, if I were a Mormon, I'd realize that Joseph Smith was not trained in metaphysics and logic. Thus, I'd refrain from building a metaphysical framework on his claims. I'd still be a trinitarian.

If I Were a Mormon, I’d Still Be a Molinist

If I were a Mormon, I would also continue embracing Molinism.

Molinism affirms that God is omniscient and that humans possess libertarian freedom (what Mormons refer to as "agency"). If God is omniscient and knows how humans would exercise their libertarian freedom prior to the foundations of the world, then God possesses middle knowledge—that is, God knows not only what will happen in the future, but also what would happen under any possible set of circumstances God could have actualized, including the free choices of creatures.

Interestingly, there are hints within Latter-day Saint thought that seem to point in this direction.

For example, Joseph Smith is associated with the idea that God’s judgment takes into account not only what people do, but what they would have done under different circumstances. This theme appears clearly in Doctrine and Covenants 137:5–10:

“I saw Father Adam and Abraham; and my father and my mother; my brother Alvin, that has long since slept;

And marveled how it was that he had obtained an inheritance in that kingdom, seeing that he had departed this life before the Lord had set his hand to gather Israel the second time, and had not been baptized for the remission of sins.

Thus came the voice of the Lord unto me, saying:

All who have died without a knowledge of this gospel, who would have received it if they had been permitted to tarry, shall be heirs of the celestial kingdom of God;

Also all that shall die henceforth without a knowledge of it, who would have received it with all their hearts, shall be heirs of that kingdom . . .”

If that’s right, then God’s knowledge includes truths about what free creatures would do in circumstances that never actually occur. And that is precisely the kind of knowledge Molinism affirms.

On this view:

• God does not determine human choices

• yet God knows how each person would freely act in any situation

• and God can providentially order the world accordingly

In fact, if this line of thought is correct, then Molinism may not be foreign to Latter-day Saint theology—but a natural development of insights already present within it.

Interestingly, I’ve found that many younger Latter-day Saints are sympathetic to Open Theism. But if there are truth values regarding libertarian free choices that never actually occur—as the passage above suggests—then it seems to follow that there are also truth values regarding future free choices. In other words, if it is true that a person would have freely chosen to receive the gospel under certain circumstances, then it is at least as plausible that there are truths about what a person will freely choose in the future.

And if such future-tensed truths exist, then God can know them.

At that point, the core motivation for Open Theism begins to collapse.

Of course, this is only one line of reasoning. There are many additional philosophical and biblical reasons to reject Open Theism—far more than can be explored here. As I’ve argued elsewhere, Open Theism struggles to make sense of detailed or distant prophecy regarding libertarian agents, it undermines God’s ability to guarantee the ultimate defeat of evil without sacrificing libertarian freedom, and ultimately portrays a deity who is unable to secure the very goods He desires. In fact, rather than solving the problem of evil, it risks making that problem much worse (see Why I Reject Open Theism—and Why It Makes the Problem of Evil Worse).

A Note on Knowing What Is True

Now that we've discussed divine knowledge it's vital to discuss human knowledge. Indeed, at this point, an important question naturally arises:

How do we know which worldview is true in the first place?

In many of my conversations with Latter-day Saints, the answer often appeals to what is commonly called a “burning in the bosom”—a kind of internal spiritual confirmation.

But this raises a serious epistemological question: I have personally read the Book of Mormon. I have prayed about it—sincerely. And I have come to the conclusion that Mormonism is false.

Yet I am often told: “If you read the entire Book of Mormon, pray about it sincerely, God will tell you it is true or false.”

Now we have a problem. I prayed and "reasoned together" (Isaiah 1:18) with God, and reached the conclusion that Mormonism is false. Others have read the Book of Mormon, sincerely prayed about it, and reached the opposite conclusion.

Based on the laws of logic, both statements cannot be true. Truth is not relative—Mormonism is either true or false. So what explains the difference?

It seems we are left with a few possibilities:

• One of us is misinterpreting our experience

• The method itself is unreliable

• Or God determines sincere seekers to arrive at contradictory conclusions

But if a method regularly leads sincere people to conflicting beliefs about ultimate reality, then that method cannot be a reliable guide to truth.

This is not merely a theoretical concern. People in many different religious traditions report similar internal confirmations—often with equal sincerity and conviction—yet they arrive at mutually exclusive conclusions.

So the question is not: “Did I have a powerful experience?” The real question is: “Is my method of knowing truth reliable?”

Scripture itself warns us not to uncritically trust every spiritual impression:

“Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God…” (1 John 4:1)

And again:

“Test everything; hold fast what is good.” (1 Thessalonians 5:21)

So what should we do with this?

If I Were a Mormon… I Would Want to Know

If I were a Mormon, I would want to ground my beliefs in a method that reliably leads to truth—not merely one that produces powerful experiences.

I would not ignore those experiences—but I would test them, just as Scripture commands (1 John 4:1).

I would ask:

• Do my beliefs correspond to reality?

• Are they logically coherent?

• Do they provide a sufficient explanation of the world?

• Are they supported by historical, philosophical, and scientific evidence?

In other words, I would want to follow the evidence wherever it leads—and reason together, just as Scripture invites us to do (Isaiah 1:18).

Because if God is a God of truth (John 14:6), and desires all people to know the truth (1 Timothy 2:4), then truth is not something we need to fear.

Bottom line: a method that can confirm contradictory beliefs cannot reliably confirm truth. Thus, if I were a Mormon, I would not base my beliefs on feelings alone; I would justify them with facts, logic, reason, and evidence.

Why This Matters

To be clear, this does not resolve every disagreement between Latter-day Saints and classical Christians. There are still extremely important differences regarding our views of scripture, revelation, and the teachings of Joseph Smith. But it does address a major obstacle: the need for an ultimate explanation of reality

If we are going to reason together, we must ask:

• Does our worldview terminate in a sufficient explanation?

• Or does it ultimately rest on unexplained facts?

A Friendly Invitation

My goal here is not to score points, but to build bridges. If Latter-day Saints are willing to:

• reconsider infinite regress

• reflect on maximal greatness

• explore the philosophical case for a tri-personal God

• consider the explanatory power of middle knowledge

• and evaluate whether their method of knowing truth (epistemology) is reliable—testing spiritual experiences rather than assuming they always correspond to reality

then we are already moving in the right direction.

The Jesus We Love

I often conclude my conversations with Latter-day Saints by focusing on what matters most: the person of Jesus.

At first glance, it may seem that we are talking about the same person. After all, we both use the name “Jesus,” we both speak of His love, and we both claim devotion to Him.

But upon closer examination, the differences are significant.

On classical Christian theism, Jesus is:

• eternal, without beginning

• the creator of all contingent reality

• fully divine—the second Person of the Trinity

• a maximally great being

By contrast, within Latter-day Saint theology, Jesus is understood as a distinct divine being who is not the eternally necessary, maximally great God affirmed by classical Christianity, but exists within a broader framework in which divinity is not uniquely or necessarily possessed.

These are not small differences.

According to the logical law of identity, if two descriptions of a person are fundamentally incompatible, then they cannot refer to the exact same being in the fullest sense. So while we may use the same name, we must at least consider the possibility that we are referring to different understandings of who Jesus truly is.

And yet, one thing I never doubt is this:

Latter-day Saints love the person they call Jesus.

I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it. It’s real.

So I often ask a question:

“Let’s suppose that right now, we had a Road to Damascus experience—and Jesus Himself appeared before us. What would you do?”

Without hesitation, they answer the same way I would:

“I would fall at His feet and worship Him.”

And I say, “Yes—I would too.”

Now imagine that Jesus lifts us up, embraces us, and makes it unmistakably clear that He knows we love Him—and that He loves us more than we can possibly imagine.

Then imagine He says something like this:

“I know you love me, but I want you to know who I truly am... the Second Person of the Trinity.”

At that point, the question becomes unavoidable:

Do we love Jesus as He truly is? Or as we have come to subjectively think about Him?

Because love that is grounded in misunderstanding—even sincere misunderstanding—must eventually be brought into alignment with truth.

In my experience, many Latter-day Saints respond with something like, “I want the real Jesus.”

Amen to that. I couldn’t agree more.

And when I hear that, I have real hope—because anyone who truly desires the real Jesus is already moving in the right direction. I look forward to the possibility that we will one day stand together before Him in worship.

This is why these conversations matter.

Not to win arguments—but to know and love Jesus rightly.

Stay reasonable (Isaiah 1:18),

—Dr. Tim Stratton

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Notes

[1] Bill McKeever, As God Is Man May Be?, (website article accessed 3-22-23) https://www.mrm.org/lorenzo-snow-couplet#:~:text=In%20June%20of%201840%2C%20Snow%20declared%2C%20%E2%80%9CAs%20man,eternal%20life%20is%20synonymous%20with%20exaltation%20and%20godhood.