In my professional life at DMVH we build software. If I were to deliver a platform today and tell the client: “There you go, this is it. This is the source code, we won't change anything here for the next 200 years”, then I would price myself out of the market.
The world changes. Technology evolves. What is ‘state of the art’ today is outdated tomorrow. Good software is never static; it is a living ecosystem that constantly receives new functionalities and updates to remain relevant and powerful.
Strangely enough, we often expect the opposite from religion.
Most people see religion as an old law book, carved in stone. A static structure that was completed centuries ago. “It is written”, and with that the discussion is closed. If something then changes in our society or in our scientific knowledge, friction arises. People feel they have to choose: either I ignore the modern world, or I reject my faith.
I am grateful that I don't have to make that choice.
An open canon
The core of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the radical idea of continuous revelation. We do not believe that God stopped communicating somewhere in the first century. We believe in a God who speaks today, just as He did in the past.
We call this an 'open canon'. The Bible is fundamental and beautiful, but not the last word.
For me as an IT entrepreneur, this is the only logical approach. Why would a God, who designed the immense complexity of the universe, leave us with only an ancient manual to tackle the complex challenges of the 21st century?
No repair, but evolution
This principle, which we call 'continuous restoration,' means that the church is also not static. Policies are adjusted, organizations are made more efficient, and our understanding of doctrines deepens.
Critics sometimes see change as weakness: 'See, it wasn't complete before.'
I, on the contrary, see it as a strength, comparable to a good 'product roadmap.' We work iteratively. In our theology, that is called 'line upon line, precept upon precept.' God does not dump the entire database of divine knowledge on us all at once, because that would exceed our human 'bandwidth.' He gives us what we can handle at that moment and what we need to take the next step.
It is not a matter of repairing what was broken, but of evolving to a higher level. It shows that heaven is still actively connected with the earth.
Room for progressive insight
This concept is incredibly liberating for someone who approaches life rationally. It means that my faith does not have to be afraid of science or new insights. If we learn something new about the cosmos, the human psyche, or history, it does not have to overturn my faith.
My theology has room for new truth, wherever it comes from. Our 9th article of faith says it beautifully: 'We believe all that God has revealed, all that He does now reveal, and we believe that He will yet reveal many great and important things (...).'
That phrase 'many great things' keeps me curious. It means that the best is yet to come.
The human factor: why it can never be 'finished'
There is an even deeper, more personal reason why I believe the church is never 'finished.' That has nothing to do with policy, but everything with the people in it – starting with myself.
When I look honestly in the mirror, I see someone who is far from 'finished.' I have shortcomings, I make mistakes, I am incomplete. That is the human condition. In my professional jargon, you could say: we all run on an operating system that has become fundamentally corrupted. We cannot fully 'debug' ourselves.
We need an external force for that. A Savior. Christ.
The idea that the church is a ready-made product suggests that its members are ready-made people. Nothing could be further from the truth. The church is not a museum for perfect saints, but a workshop for people who are still very much under construction.
As long as we as humans are not yet perfect – and that will take a while – the organization that is supposed to help us must also continue to move, learn, and adapt. After all, the church is not the goal in itself; it is the vehicle that must bring us, with all our baggage and imperfections, to Christ. And that vehicle must remain suitable for the ever-changing road we are on.
A foundation for infinite growth
What does a seeker gain from this? It offers a perspective where stagnation is regression.
Instead of seeing my faith as a rigid set of rules, I see it as a robust operating system designed for infinite scalability. The core code – the love of God and the atonement of Christ – is stable and perfect. But the applications we run on it, our understanding and application of it, are constantly updated and expanded.
If God still speaks, it means we are never 'finished' with learning. We don't have to be afraid of the future; we can embrace it with new 'features' that enhance our understanding of His creation.
I don't need to have all the answers today to stand firm. I know that more light and knowledge are on their way. And that makes believing not a conservative obligation, but a dynamic adventure.
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