Lecture Five of the Lectures on Faith is often brushed aside today as an “early” or “incomplete” attempt to define the Godhead. I think this comes, in part, from the committee that removed the Lectures from the Doctrine and Covenants.
In a paper titled, The ‘Lectures on Faith’: A Case Study in Decanonization by Richard S. Van Wagoner, Steven C. Walker, and Allen D. Roberts it says:
While writing a master’s thesis at BYU in 1940, John W. Fitzgerald wrote to Elder Joseph Fielding Smith, a member of the 1921 committee that had deleted the Lectures on Faith from the Doctrine and Covenants, and asked him why items published under Joseph Smith’s direction were removed. Smith listed four reasons:
https://www.dialoguejournal.com/wp-content/uploads/sbi/articles/Dialogue_V20N03_73.pdf
While I think there are problems with all four of those reasons, the scope of this article is centered on reason number three:
They are not complete as to their teachings regarding the Godhead.
What’s always given me pause is this: Joseph Smith, who saw the Father and the Son—not just once, but on multiple sacred occasions—personally approved these lectures.
Not just for a private theological circle, but for the School of the Prophets and the entire Church by including them in the Doctrine and Covenants.
I think that for Latter-day Saints, if anyone had the authority to say what was appropriate to teach about the Godhead, it was Joseph Smith.
Note the title of the Lectures in the 1835 and 1844 editions.
- 1835 – THEOLOGY. LECTURE FIRST On the doctrine of the church of the Latter Day Saints. Of Faith. [source]
- 1844 – LECTURES ON THE DOCTRINE OF THE CHURCH OF JESUS CHRIST OF LATTER DAY SAINTS, ORIGINALLY DELIVERED BEFORE A CLASS OF THE ELDERS, IN KIRTLAND, OHIO. [source]
More than simply some discardable teachings about faith, they were considered to be lectures on the doctrine of the church.
In the preface of the 1835 edition of the Doctrine and Covenants, signed by Joseph Smith, Oliver Cowdery, Sidney Rigdon, and Frederick G. Williams we have more specificity:
The first part of the book will be found to contain a series of Lectures as delivered before a Theological class in this place, and in consequence of their embracing the important doctrine of salvation, we have arranged them into the following work.
https://www.josephsmithpapers.org/paper-summary/doctrine-and-covenants-1835/11
The lectures weren’t simply about faith, they were about the doctrine of salvation.
But returning to this idea that the teachings concerning the Godhead were not complete, we have to ask: what scripture or teaching out there is “complete” when it comes to the nature of God?
Can any finite text fully encapsulate the infinite?
And why have we decided that completeness should be the standard for legitimacy? If we applied that same logic consistently, wouldn’t we have to dismiss most of scripture?
Having spent time with the lectures, I’d like to share a different view of the so-called paradox in Lecture Five, one that shows it’s not some obsolete theological rough draft, but an inspired masterpiece that aligns beautifully with restored theology.
The Father of Spirit, the Son of Tabernacle
Here is what tends to trip people up:
“The Father being a personage of spirit, glory and power…
The Son, who was in the bosom of the Father, a personage of tabernacle…”
This is where the assumptions come in. People often say, “Wait, I thought the Father had a body,” and then assume the lecture must be out of step with later teachings.
But I don’t think this is about metaphysics. The lecture isn’t dissecting what God is made of—it’s describing how we come to know and trust Him.
“Spirit” and “tabernacle” aren’t competing substances. They’re pointing to something relational. Symbolic. Even covenantal.
To call the Father a “personage of spirit” is to speak of intelligence, will, and glory. It echoes that quiet, unseen source that moves things forward without being seen. The Son, as a “personage of tabernacle,” is the one who makes that will visible. He’s the vessel. The manifestation.
Note the interchangeableness of the word “Spirit” and “Mind” in Lecture Five.
the Son being filled with the fulness of the Mind, glory and power, or, in other words, the Spirit, glory and power of the Father […] being filled with the fulness of the Mind of the Father, or, in other words, the Spirit of the Father
https://lecturesonfaith.com/5/#2
In that light, the phrase “personage of Spirit” becomes less about absence of a body and more about the nature of His glory.
The Father is Spirit in the sense that He is the origin, the source of divine Mind, and the fountain of power, light, and will. His being is not defined by what can be seen, but by the infinite intelligence that governs all things.
So when the Son is said to be filled with the fulness of the Mind or Spirit of the Father, it means He is united with the Father’s will. He acts with the Father’s power because He thinks with the Father’s mind. That’s not just poetic—it’s deeply covenantal.
Oneness doesn’t come from composition but from alignment, from shared desire and perfect submission.
Thus, calling the Father a personage of spirit emphasizes His role as the divine source of power and glory.
And calling the Son a personage of tabernacle does not diminish Him, but reveals His role as the embodied revelation of that Mind—a tabernacle not just of flesh, but of the Mind and glory of the Father.
From a literary standpoint, Lecture Five is walking a tightrope—it is trying to describe the nature of God in a way that remains intelligible and yet sacred, form-based yet transcendent.
By fusing Spirit with Mind, the authors of the lecture root God’s identity in consciousness, not composition.
And this has bearing on faith itself. As the lectures often return to the theme of what is required for faith, they suggest that one must understand the character and attributes of God in order to trust Him.
So this framing—that the Father is a personage of spirit—is not vague. It’s designed to preserve reverence while still inviting relational trust.
What Does “Personage” Really Mean?
One word that quietly holds a lot of weight in Lecture Five is “personage.” It shows up multiple times, but it’s easy to gloss over. Modern readers might assume it’s just a fancy synonym for “person,” but in the early 1800s, it carried a much richer meaning.
According to Webster’s 1828 dictionary—which gives us a sense of how the word was understood in Joseph Smith’s time—personage is defined first as:
“A man or woman of distinction; as an illustrious personage; a renowned personage.”
And second:
“Character represented; external appearance.”
So in 1830, personage wasn’t just about existence, it was about presence. A personage was someone notable, someone who stood out, someone who appeared in a way that demanded reverence or recognition. It’s a word that blends identity with distinction, form with glory. It allows for embodiment, but it also makes room for mystery.
When Lecture Five refers to the Father as “a personage of spirit, glory, and power,” and the Son as “a personage of tabernacle,” it’s not making a scientific claim about tissue and substance. It’s describing roles, presence, and how each is known.
- The Father, as a personage of spirit, is presented as the unseen source of intelligence and glory—the mind, the will, the fire behind the veil.
- The Son, as a personage of tabernacle, becomes the visible manifestation—the one who steps into the tent, walks among us, and shows us the face of God.
This language doesn’t deny form or glorified embodiment. It emphasizes function—how God reveals Himself, how faith connects to that revelation, and how we come to know the unseen through what is seen.
Rather than being a flaw or contradiction, the use of personage in Lecture Five honors the paradox. The term bridges theology and poetry; it gives us presence without losing awe.
It reminds us that the Father and the Son are distinct yet one, hidden yet revealed, veiled in glory yet approachable in covenant. It’s temple language.
And like the temple itself, it’s designed to point us upward while keeping us grounded in symbols that invite contemplation rather than demand conclusions.
Mosiah 15 and the Yielding of Flesh to Spirit
This language in Lecture Five is strikingly similar to the kind we find in the Book of Mormon, especially Abinadi’s teachings.
And now Abinadi said unto them: I would that ye should understand that God himself shall come down among the children of men, and shall redeem his people.
And because he dwelleth in flesh he shall be called the Son of God, and having subjected the flesh to the will of the Father, being the Father and the Son—The Father, because he was conceived by the power of God; and the Son, because of the flesh; thus becoming the Father and Son—
And they are one God, yea, the very Eternal Father of heaven and of earth.
Mosiah 15:1-4
Then, in verse 5 we read:
“The flesh becoming subject to the Spirit, or the Son to the Father, being one God…”
This is Abinadi teaching the mystery of Christ’s role and identity. But look closely at the structure. He’s making a comparison:
- The flesh submits to the Spirit
- The Son yields to the Father
It’s the same pattern Lecture Five is trying to highlight.
There’s also an embedded typology here. The flesh submitting to the spirit isn’t just a description of Jesus, it’s a pattern of discipleship.
Just as:
- Christ yielded His mortal will to the divine,
- So too are we called to bring our tabernacles into subject to the Spirit.
In other words, the Son models what it means to become one with the Father, not by collapsing identity, but by aligning will through trust and sacrifice.
The pattern is relational, not merely anatomical.
It’s not arguing that the Father is formless or that the Son is not divine. It’s describing a sacred polarity: Spirit and Tabernacle, Source and Manifestation, Glory and Revelation, brought into perfect harmony.
This isn’t about denying the embodiment of the Father or the divinity of the Son. It’s about showing how oneness is formed through yielding, through submission, through the alignment of will.
The Son doesn’t erase the Father or become Him. He becomes one with Him through the surrender of His will, and by extension, His tabernacle, to the mind and glory of the Father.
This is how trust is built. This is how faith becomes possible.
Tabernacle as Pattern
This pattern isn’t unique to one verse or one lecture, it stretches all the way back to Sinai and the wilderness tabernacle.
In ancient Israel, the tabernacle wasn’t just a building. It was a mobile sanctuary, a dwelling place for God’s presence. It wasn’t the glory itself, but it housed the glory. It made it visible, accessible.
The Son, in that same sense, is the tabernacle. The one in whom the Father is revealed. He is the place of meeting, the high priest, the sacrifice, and the mercy seat. And the Father? The Spirit, the glory, the source behind the veil.
The point isn’t that one is less than the other. It’s that together, they form a pattern—Spirit and tabernacle, will and vessel, source and manifestation. Their oneness is not a merger, but a unity forged through love, honor, and yielding.
In scripture, a tabernacle is not just a body—it is a dwelling place. A structure in which the divine presence is housed, revealed, or mediated.
In the wilderness, the tabernacle was where Israel encountered Yahweh. His presence filled it with glory (Hebrew kavod, meaning weight, substance, honor). It was the place of meeting, of access.
So to call the Son a “personage of tabernacle” is to say:
- He is the dwelling of God among men.
- He is the manifested presence, the visible revelation.
- He is the incarnation—in every sense of the word.
This interpretation harmonizes beautifully with John 1:14:
“And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us…”
(Literally: “tabernacled” among us.)
So the Son is the tabernacle in which God is seen, heard, and known.
The Father as a “personage of spirit” is not absent, not immaterial in the Greek sense, but the source, the intelligence, the glory behind the veil. The Father remains as the unseen origin, the wellspring of will and power. His identity is not hidden, but transcendent.
From a literary perspective, this creates a kind of sacred polarity; not opposition, but complementarity:
- The Father: spirit, source, transcendent glory
- The Son: tabernacle, embodiment, revealed presence
It’s the same polarity you see in:
- Thought and speech
- Light and vessel
- Fire and altar
- Temple and glory
The tabernacle isn’t less than the spirit—it is the vehicle through which the spirit becomes knowable.
The Spirit as the Mind of God
Another phrase from Lecture Five that raises eyebrows is the description of the Holy Spirit as the “Mind of the Father and the Son.” For many, this sounds like a contradiction.
If the Spirit is a person, the third member of the Godhead, how can the Spirit also be described as a mind? Isn’t a “mind” just a part of someone, not a distinct individual?
This is where we get into trouble if we press too hard on modern, literal categories. We tend to want clean definitions: Father, Son, Spirit, each as individuals with their own identity.
But when we do that, we risk missing the symbolic depth and revelatory pattern the text is trying to show us.
Lecture Five puts it this way:
And [Jesus Christ] being the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth, and having overcome, received a fulness of the glory of the Father—possessing the same mind with the Father, which mind is the Holy Spirit, that bears record of the Father and the Son, and these three are one, or in other words, these three constitute the great, matchless, governing and supreme power over all things: by whom all things were created and made, that were created and made: and these three constitute the Godhead, and are one: The Father and the Son possessing the same mind, the same wisdom, glory, power and fulness: Filling all in all—the Son being filled with the fulness of the Mind, glory and power, or, in other words, the Spirit, glory and power of the Father…
https://lecturesonfaith.com/5/#2
The emphasis here isn’t on the individuality of the Spirit, but on the Spirit’s role as the unifying divine intelligence. The Spirit is described as the medium through which the Father and Son are one—not just a messenger, but the very presence of shared will, wisdom, power, and glory.
So how can the Spirit be both an individual and a mind?
It might help to shift the question. Instead of thinking of “mind” as a part or a function, what if we understand it as the expression of divine will and intelligence?
The Spirit, in this context, is not merely an individual being but the living communion between the Father and the Son. The Spirit is how their unity is made known, how their will is carried forward, and how their presence fills the faithful.
If the Son is the tabernacle where the Father is revealed, the Spirit is the light that fills the space. If the Father is the source, the Spirit is the outflow—making that source accessible, knowable, and real.
So yes, the Spirit is a member of the Godhead, and yes, is also called the Mind of God.
Rather than canceling each other out, these roles overlap in a sacred way.
The Spirit is the one who brings us into the same unity the Father and Son share and draws us into alignment by illumination.
The Spirit is how we come to know the Father and the Son. And to be filled with the Spirit is to be filled with the mind of God.
How We’re Reading it Wrong
Rather than seeing Lecture Five as obsolete, maybe we need to stop reading it through modern doctrinal lenses and start listening to the symbolic language it’s using.
It’s trying to teach us how to exercise faith in God; not by defining Him clinically, but by pointing to the pattern of how He works.
The Book of Mormon supports this pattern. Mosiah 15 harmonizes with Lecture Five. Both speak in symbols. Both invite us to see beyond the veil. But it takes patience. It takes a willingness to see that scripture and early Restoration texts are often layered, not linear.
We don’t need to fix Lecture Five. We need to understand it. And that means we might have to rethink some of our assumptions. God reveals Himself line upon line, but sometimes the earlier lines contain more light than we realized.
Lecture Five isn’t a metaphysical essay on glorified anatomy. It’s faith instruction, and its concern is about relationship, representation, and revelation.
To that end, it distinguishes:
- The invisible source (Father),
- The visible manifestation (Son),
- And the shared mind/power/glory (Spirit).
It doesn’t deny that the Father could have a glorified body because the focus is literary and theological: to explain how we know and trust a God we cannot see.
One God
The beauty of this whole discussion is wrapped up in that final phrase from Mosiah 15: “being one God.”
Not because they’re indistinguishable. Not because they’re made of the same thing. But because they are one in mind, purpose, and glory. The Son becomes one with the Father by yielding. He models the very pattern we’re invited to follow.
- Lecture Five gives us the architecture: Father (spirit), Son (tabernacle), Spirit (mind).
- Mosiah 15 gives us the motion: the tabernacle yields to spirit, the Son to the Father, until oneness is achieved through willed submission and relational unity.
It’s the story of divinity entering flesh, not just to dwell there, but to redeem it by leading it home.
And when the veil is fully lifted, the Son remains the express image of the Father because their wills are one and their glory is shared.
The flesh becomes subject to the Spirit. That’s not just Christ’s story. It’s the story of every disciple learning to trust the unseen, to yield their will, and to become one with the Father.
I think this is what Lecture Five was pointing us toward all along and that it is tragic that so much light has been cast aside due to misunderstanding.
