The Sacred Path Less Traveled
Reframing Covenant, Christ, and the Call to Become
In the The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, we have several phrases that like to show up:
• “Stay on the covenant path.”
• “We are here to be tested.”
• “God would never lead me to sin.”
• “This is the only true church.”
• “All things testify of Christ.”
They sound reassuring—like if we follow the checklist, all will be well. But life doesn’t work like that. It isn’t a checklist—it’s messy, layered, personal. And these phrases, while comforting to some, can alienate others who find themselves walking a different kind of path.
❖ “The Covenant Path”
When we talk about “the covenant path,” it implies there’s only one route to God—and that it happens to be paved, maintained, and clearly marked by the institutional Church. But I believe there are many paths to the Divine.
Some paths are walked inside temples.
Some are walked through broken marriages, lost faith, or sacred silence.
Some people walk with scripture in hand.
Some walk through poetry, grief, or acts of service.
Some paths weave through healing herbs and sacred flames.
Some follow the stars, attuning to astrology and ancient rhythms.
Some are shaped by meditation, stillness, dance, or dreams.
Just because a path doesn’t look familiar, doesn’t mean it isn’t holy. God speaks more languages than we’ve been taught to hear. All of them—if they lead us closer to love, truth, and transformation—are valid. The danger of pretending there’s only one true path is that it breeds judgment. It allows people to believe they are “righteous” simply because they look like they’re on the right trail. Meanwhile, someone else who doesn’t fit the mold might be doing some of the deepest spiritual work of their life—misunderstood, but seen by God.
❖ “This Life Is Not a Test”
If Heavenly Father and Mother are our loving Parents, why would They place us on Earth just to test us?
We are not here to be tested. We are here to learn. To grow. To remember who we are. Before this life, I believe we chose our circumstances. We chose some of the things we wanted to learn—lessons only experience could teach. Lessons like compassion, courage, resilience, grief, love, humility, and self-trust.
And here’s the thing: We didn’t all come here to learn the same things. So comparing someone else’s choices to your checklist is like judging a piano student for not being good at calculus. Different curriculum. Different path. Still sacred.
❖ “God Would Never Lead Me To Sin.”
This phrase is often used to discredit or dismiss someone else’s personal revelation or journey.
But here’s the truth: Many people who say “God wouldn’t do _________” have never spent enough time in the wilderness with God to actually know what God would or wouldn’t do.
They know the rules. They know tradition. But relationship? That’s something deeper—and often disruptive.
I’ve seen people led by the Spirit to leave careers, communities, relationships—and yes, even the Church.
Does that mean God led them to sin? Or does it mean that God knew the Church was only a stepping stone on their journey to become? That their growth required a broader sky?
❖ “This Is the Only True Church”
Many members believe that God would never tell them to leave the LDS Church because “this is the only true church.” But truth isn't fragile. And God is not territorial.
If we truly believe that every single person on this earth is a child of our Divine Parents— Would They really have favorites? Would They really concentrate all of Their truth into a single institution?
Or is it more likely that truth is like light—reflected in many windows, refracted through many cultures, found in every sincere seeker? There is truth in many places. There are falsehoods in many places too—including inside churches.
No single institution has a monopoly on revelation. And no one religion owns God.
So here’s the real question: What if God did tell someone to leave the Church? Not out of rebellion. Not because of sin. But because the path they chose to walk in this life—before they ever came to Earth—required experiences that the Church could no longer provide. Because their next soul lesson couldn’t be learned within the bounds of correlation and conformity.
If we truly believe in agency, eternal progression, and Divine Parents who know each of us intimately... Then we must also believe that They can speak to people individually, in ways that may not make sense to the collective. And maybe leaving isn’t always “falling away.” Maybe it’s stepping into a deeper relationship with the Divine that can no longer be contained by the walls of an institution.
❖ “All Things Testify of Christ”
“All things testify of Christ.” We say it often—quietly, confidently, as if it’s obvious. And I believe it. Deeply.
But sometimes I wonder if others truly do. Because if we believe that all things testify of Christ, Then why do we only seem to honor the things that are familiar, correlated, and safe? Do we only mean the things that are easy to control?
Do we believe that hymns and scripture can testify—but not the stars? Not the moon’s phases, not the healing power of herbs, not the ancient practices passed down by ancestors who worshipped through rhythm, breath, and intuition? How can we praise the majesty of a sunset, then mock someone who reads the sky with reverence? How can we celebrate nature in our sermons, then turn our backs on the ones who listen to it?
“All things testify of Christ,” we say. But the moment someone finds Christ in astrology, in mysticism, in something other—we flinch. We label it deception. We call it strange.
But if Christ truly made all things, Then why are we so afraid to find Him in unexpected places? Maybe the problem isn’t the practices. It’s the assumption that Divinity only speaks in one voice, one method, one place.
But They are Creators—not curators. And creation itself will never stop testifying.
Maybe it’s not that these things don’t testify of Christ— Maybe it’s just that we’ve been taught not to listen. Maybe the things we’ve been told to fear are actually the very places Christ waits to meet us— In the herbs, the moonlight, the mystery. Not because they replace Divinity, But because Divinity is already there. Maybe the problem isn’t in the stars or the sacred herbs or the whispered prayers. Maybe the problem is in our fear of anything we don’t already understand.
The Light of Christ is not confined. Divine Light can shine through anything—if we’re willing to open our hearts to see it.
❖ We Were Never Meant to All Walk the Same Way
When I step back and look at the big picture, it all connects. We talk about “the covenant path,” as if there’s only one. We talk about life as a “test”, as if we’re all taking the same exam. We say “God wouldn’t lead someone away,” as if our understanding of God is absolute. We say “all things testify of Christ,” but only listen to the things we’ve been told are safe.
But what if all of this is pointing us toward the same deeper truth? That we are not here to conform—we’re here to become. And that becoming will look different for each of us, because the lessons we came to learn are different. The healing we need is different. The way God speaks to us is different.
Maybe the path isn’t meant to be singular. Maybe it was always meant to be sacredly, divinely personal. When we honor someone else’s journey—even when we don’t fully understand it—we step into a more expansive faith. A faith that trusts God to speak to hearts in a thousand different languages. A faith that sees Christ not just in the familiar, but in the wild, the ancient, the mystical, the unexpected. And when we live that way—with openness, humility, and reverence—maybe we become part of the testimony too.
Ultimately, maybe salvation isn’t a scorecard. Maybe it’s a classroom. And maybe Heavenly Father and Heavenly Mother are less concerned with how cleanly we walk the path—and more invested in who we’re becoming along the way.