True Prophets, False Kingdoms: The Ancient Pattern Still Alive Today

 As the Prophet Joseph Smith declared, “The world always mistook false prophets for true ones, and those that were sent of God they considered to be false prophets, and hence they killed, stoned, punished, and imprisoned the true prophets, and they had to hide themselves in deserts, and dens, and caves of the earth, and though the most honorable men of the earth, they banished them from their society as vagabonds, while they cherished, honored, and supported knaves, vagabonds, hypocrites, impostors, and the basest of men” (T&C 147:6). This tragic inversion—rejecting the genuine article while embracing the counterfeit—echoes across the scriptures and even beyond the prophetic office itself. It reveals a stubborn pattern: the world rewards what flatters its comforts and ambitions, but recoils from what demands repentance and surrender to God.

Scripture overflows with such examples. Jeremiah, the weeping prophet, was beaten, thrown into a cistern, and branded a traitor for declaring Judah’s coming judgment (Jeremiah 8:6; 15:11; 15:13 RE). Meanwhile, the smooth-tongued Hananiah promised peace and prosperity, winning the applause of king and people alike—until his false words were exposed by death itself (Jeremiah 10:8-9 RE). Elijah stood alone against 450 prophets of Baal who feasted at Jezebel’s table and enjoyed royal favor; the true prophet was hunted as a criminal while the impostors dined in luxury (1 Kings 4:9, 12-13 RE). Even Moses, sent with signs and wonders, was repeatedly rejected by the very people he was commissioned to deliver; they murmured for a golden calf and longed for the fleshpots of Egypt rather than follow the God who parted the sea (Exodus 10:2; 17:1 RE).

The ultimate illustration, of course, is the Lord Jesus Christ Himself. On that first Easter morning the religious elite—scribes, Pharisees, and chief priests—had already condemned the true Prophet, Priest, and King. They who loved the chief seats, the long robes, and the greetings in the marketplace (Matthew 10:25 RE) could not abide One who exposed their hypocrisy and called them “whitewashed tombs” (Matthew 10:33 RE). They preferred the comfort of their temple system and their uneasy alliance with Roman power. So they orchestrated His crucifixion, while the crowds who had once cried “Hosanna” soon shouted “Crucify Him” under the sway of those same leaders. The genuine was excluded; the counterfeit kingdom was preserved—at least for a season.

This pattern is not limited to prophets. Scripture records the same rejection of any voice that threatens comfortable falsehoods. The man born blind in John 9 was cast out of the synagogue simply for testifying that Jesus had healed him—an inconvenient truth the Pharisees refused to accept. Stephen, full of faith and the Holy Ghost, was stoned while the Sanhedrin gnashed their teeth, because his testimony pierced their self-righteous hearts (Acts 4:10 RE). Even the righteous Abel was slain by Cain, whose offering pleased the world’s eye but not God’s (Genesis 3:7-9 RE). In every case, the genuine article disrupts the status quo; the fake flatters it.

False prophets and false systems thrive because they serve the interests of this world’s kingdoms—wealth, influence, political favor, social acceptance. They promise ease, affirm the natural man, and never require the painful surrender of the soul. True messengers, by contrast, call men to let God be their God. They expose the pit that lies at the end of every man-made path.

On this Easter morning, I stand in awe of the living Christ who refused to conform to the expectations of His day. He who was cast out as unworthy by the religious and political powers of His time now extends the same invitation He offered then: to follow the narrow way that leads to life. The resurrection declares with finality that the genuine always triumphs, even when it appears defeated for a season. The stone was rolled away not merely to prove a point, but to open the door for each of us to choose truth over comfort, surrender over self-preservation, and the voice of the Shepherd over the clamor of hired hands.

I add my own quiet gratitude to that of the original reflection. Nothing I possess can repay the debt I owe the Savior who was numbered with the transgressors so that I might be numbered among His sheep. Yet in the small, ordinary moments of daily life—when no one is watching and the choice feels insignificant—I desire to choose the genuine over the appealing counterfeit. May the risen Lord continue to grant us eyes to see clearly, hearts willing to repent, and courage to stand with the excluded One who alone can include us in His eternal kingdom.

Signed,  

John The-Not-So-Beloved

From "Leave" to "Cleave": Why Modern Independence Blocks the Path to Zion—and Why We Must Return to Interdependence

From "Leave" to "Cleave": Why Modern Independence Blocks the Path to Zion—and Why We Must Return to Interdependence

I used to, with my tongue in cheek, tell my children that the biblical idea of "cleave" (Genesis 2:14 - Old Covenants) is just "leave" with a C (C as in C-you-later). The implication being that "cleave" was to strike out on your own with your wife and make it in the world—establish independence, break away from us, your parents, forge a new path solo as a couple. Likely it was my subtle, maybe not so subtle, passive-aggressive way of inculcating into them the thought that my expectation was they are part of an up-and-out program. I've changed my mind given what's unfolded since they were young. Sadly, I think my playful pun missed the deeper unity the verse intends: a man shall "leave" his father and mother and "cleave" (hold fast) to his wife, becoming one flesh in a committed bond. But in our culture, we've overemphasized the "leave" part—pushing separation and self-reliance—while downplaying the interdependent "cleave" that builds lasting family and community. My shift in perspective comes from seeing how modern "independence" has often left people isolated, not liberated.

One reason Zion may seem impossible to us today is precisely because achieving it will require us to reverse a lifelong journey of independence that our culture has ingrained as sacred virtue. We've been conditioned from youth to prize self-reliance, solo achievement, and breaking away from family and community as markers of maturity and success. The very idea of deep, mutual interdependence—relying on one another in covenant bonds rather than on distant industries or institutions—feels counterintuitive, even repulsive. Yet that interdependence is central to Zion, a society of one heart and one mind where God dwells among His people.

Denver has described this starkly: Zion "will be interdependent, cooperative, and community-based. Zion will not consist of a solitary spiritual sojourner wandering the vast zones of an almost infinite shoreline. He emphasizes that Zion demands the "inter-dependence and cooperation we find repulsive" in our hyper-individualistic age. It cannot emerge from isolated individuals or hierarchical structures; it requires equals gathered in mutual service, shared resources, and collective righteousness—no poor among us because no one tolerates another's want when they have enough and to spare.

This vision clashes with the modern American myth of independence. We celebrate the 18-year-old leaving home as the rite of passage, suitcase in hand, chasing personal dreams far from family roots. This "independence" is propped up by vast industrial dependencies: global supply chains for food and goods, tech platforms for connection, student-loan systems for education, corporate landlords for shelter, and elder-care industries when families fracture. We've atomized people while entangling them in impersonal systems that profit from separation.

Matt Walsh recently changed his mind publicly on this very point. He once advocated kicking kids out at 18 to force independence. Now, after raising his own children, he envisions keeping them home until marriage, then welcoming them—and their spouses—onto family property. Build a compound. Stay close. Contribute. Raise grandchildren together. Die among loved ones, not alone in a nursing home. Critics called it selfish or outdated, insisting kids must "spread their wings." But why has family closeness become unusual?

Said he -- It's part propaganda, part economics, part historical amnesia. Media sold the lie: 'Sex and the City''s mythical Manhattan apartment (real value around $10 million today) and 'Friends' unattainable New York pad portrayed solo urban life as glamorous and attainable. The message: twenties for fun, delayed marriage, extended adolescence. Boomers experienced a postwar fluke—college at $500–$600/year, median home $23,000 (roughly $180,000 adjusted)—allowing early independence, marriage at 22 for men and 20 for women, single-income homes.

That was never the historical norm. Census data shows average U.S. household size dropping from 5.39 in 1850 to 2.53 in recent years (2020–2024). Nineteenth-century New England families lived in connected farmsteads—multigenerational homes sharing kitchens and labor, building generational wealth. Industrialization, urbanization, suburbs, and highways accelerated separation, but early movers often left to marry and start families—not to accrue debt for indefinite "experiences."

Today's economics reverse that feasibility. Median home sales prices hover around $398,000–$410,000 in recent data (with forecasts for modest or stalled growth in 2026 amid high rates and inventory challenges). College costs have more than doubled in real terms. A one-bedroom in Santa Monica hits $3,500/month; even half with a roommate devours low wages amid AI, automation, immigration pressures, zoning restrictions, and institutional home-buying. Where do young people "fly"? Unsafe, expensive urban fringes?

Globally, multigenerational living persists: 80% of South Korean 20-somethings with parents, 50–73% in Greece, Italy, Spain, Portugal. In the U.S., Asian, Hispanic, and Black young adults live multigenerationally at higher rates than non-Hispanic Whites, who cluster in low-density heartland areas with minimal co-residence.

Industries profit from this split: colleges via endless loans, landlords from perpetual renters, elder care from distant families. Elites ignore their own advice—Kardashians, Kennedys, Bushes buy adjacent estates. They grasp what propaganda obscures: humans flourish in mutual obligation, not isolation.

Recent data shows a bit of a correction: In 2023, 18% of adults ages 25–34 lived with a parent (higher for men at 20%), with multigenerational households rising since the 1970s due to housing costs and debt. The 1950s nuclear ideal was the fluke; multigenerational closeness is the historical and prophetic baseline.

Our illusion of independence is unsustainable—a mirage sustained by systems that divide us. As pressures mount, false independence must yield to genuine interdependence: first in families--perhaps building compounds and support networks, then in covenant communities resembling Zion—cooperative, level, one-hearted. We'll either rebuild natural bonds or remain tethered to dividing industries.

Prioritizing family closeness aligns with historical, cross-cultural, and prophetic norms of flourishing. It isn't stifling growth; it's providing a stable base for thriving without precarity. The economic landscape has changed. Interdependence on one another—rather than on industry—is no longer failure. It's the rational, loving, and inevitable path forward.

Many are already returning to it. As affordability strains persist, more will follow. The question isn't whether this path makes sense. It's how many will recognize the illusion before industries rewrite success entirely—leaving Zion, once again, just out of reach.

So "Cleave" but don't "leave"(unless you want to). We need each other."

Signed

John The-Not-So-Beloved