“Joseph, my son.”[1] Those were words the Lord spoke to Joseph. The omnipotent Jehovah, the Creator of the world, did not choose to overwhelm the young prophet Joseph in the First Vision with a display of his divine might or unnerving marvels. Instead, he greeted him by name and with the endearing term “my son.” This pivotal moment, where the Lord once again reveals himself to a prophet, prompts us to ask: How are the words the Lord chooses to introduce himself specifically meaningful? How does a personal message to the prophet speak a greater truth to all of us? And what does his choice of words, at that pivotal first moment, teach us of his central purposes and identity?

To explore these questions, we will turn to the 1832 account of the First Vision. As we explore the text, we will bring to light the ideas, motifs, and symbols intricately interlaced within the revelation’s tapestry, aiming to grasp the layered meanings within. This method diverges from previous explorations that have typically centered on the historical events and circumstances of Joseph’s time. Instead, our focus is fixed on the text’s own words, symbols, and ideas. We work from the premise that the style and phrasing are not merely ornamental or peripheral but are integral to the revelation’s meaning. The selection of words and their presentation are considered deliberate acts by the Son to manifest his central identity to both Joseph and us—each word and its delivery are integral parts of the revelation itself.[2] Our analysis will first examine the Lord’s self-revelation because understanding the intent behind his title as the “Lord of glory” may offer us valuable insights into the tender appellation “my son” and what these expressions in turn reveal about the divine nature of his relationship with Joseph and with all of us.

Words, Descriptions, and Titles

In scripture, the Lord directly introduces himself to young Joseph as the “Lord of glory.” Nowhere else in recorded scripture do we have the Lord giving himself this title. Paul, in 1 Corinthians 2:8, reflects on the unrecognized divinity of Christ, hinting that a fuller understanding of his glory might have prevented his crucifixion. Similarly, James in James 2:1 uses the title to advocate for equality of faith free from personal favoritism. While not a direct self-description by the Lord, these apostolic references emphasize the Lord’s divine power. The fact that the Lord introduces himself to the young Joseph as the “Lord of glory” is singularly significant. Its unique occurrence suggests a rare and explicit self-revelation of his divine nature and preeminent status. While we have no other direct usages to examine, we will examine the term glory in scripture and its meaning and symbolism.[3]

The Word Glory

First, let’s begin with the word glory.[4] In ancient scripture, glory is a complex term with layered meanings. Hebrew kabod (כָּבוֹד), derived from the root kabad (כָּבַד), signifies “to be heavy.”[5] This etymology gives rise to the word’s figurative use, describing importance or wealth, much like the English analogy of something “weighty” being significant. Consequently, kabod connotes honor, prestige, and a good reputation. It also encompasses visible splendor, reflecting the tangible manifestations of one’s standing.[6] This third aspect is crucial here because it pertains to divine manifestations, wherein glory signifies the observable majesty of God.[7]

In the New Testament, the Greek equivalent to the word glory, doxa (δόξα), mirrors this multifaceted understanding while also encapsulating judgment and the radiant manifestation of God’s presence.[8] We often think of this definition of glory as radiant light. We arrive at a key insight when we integrate all these aspects—significance, honor, visible splendor, and observable majesty. As New Testament scholar Richard Bauckham noted, “Glory . . . is always something visible.”[9] Thus, glory is not only an abstract concept but a visible sign, the mark of the divine in the physical realm; God’s presence is made manifest in a form that can be experienced by humanity. We can see the light, feel the fire, and hear the voice of God. Therefore, glory is a clear sign of the divine within our midst; it’s where the presence of God becomes a palpable reality, inviting humanity to witness and engage with the sacred in the here and now.

In his account, Joseph attempts to describe this glory he experienced, but apparently with a measure of difficulty. He originally wrote that he saw a “pillar of fire,” but then he crossed out fire and replaced it with light. Continuing, Joseph described the glory of the Lord as “above the brightness of the sun at noon day.”[10] The visible light was something physical and did more than illuminate. In Orson Pratt’s account, Joseph recounted that he expected to see “the leaves and boughs consumed” and was surprised when the fiery light did not consume the surrounding forest.[11] As noted by Bauckham, this visible manifestation of God’s glory carries significant theological weight, suggesting that the divine is not only transcendent but also immanent—capable of being observed while still being divine, powerful, consuming without reducing, and profoundly spiritual. It’s a testament to a God who is powerful yet approachable, whose glory can be seen and felt yet does not destroy.

In his experience with the Lord on Mount Horeb, Moses experienced a similar divine manifestation of light or fire that did not consume. In Exodus 3, he describes the bush that was on fire but did not burn up. “There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire out of a bush; he looked, and the bush was blazing, but it was not consumed” (v. 2). This motif of a consuming yet nondestructive divine presence can teach us something about the attributes of the Lord. He is powerful and majestic, yet he is lovingly present. Like the pillar of fire, the burning bush is a symbolic touchstone where divine splendor meets human frailty. In this sacred meeting, the Lord’s glory bridges the heavenly and the human, illuminating without overwhelming, revealing without destroying, penetrating and uplifting. Glory, as a symbol of the Lord, is not a barrier but a bridge, drawing humanity into the presence of the Lord.

Glory as Knowledge and Goodness

We now move to a deeper consideration of the multifaceted nature of glory as revealed in Restoration scripture. Although Joseph Smith may not have fully grasped the breadth of these attributes at the time of the First Vision, the divine title the Lord gives himself would hint at a profound truth that would later be clearly articulated: “The glory of God is intelligence, or, in other words, light and truth” (Doctrine and Covenants 93:36). This verse not only associates God’s glory with intelligence by light and truth but suggests both figurative and literal interpretations. Such a passage underscores that glory is inherently linked with the pursuit of knowledge, enlightenment, and truth. Hence, to seek glory is to embark on a path of acquiring spiritual knowledge. Glory, therefore, is a dynamic process—it represents both the ultimate goal and the transformative journey of increasingly internalizing and manifesting the light and truth that comes from the Savior. In striving for glory, we are beckoned to mirror the Lord in knowledge, truth, and light, which are the very expressions of him. The Old Testament further illustrates the relationship between the quest for glory and understanding the Lord’s attributes.

While we often think of Moses’s meeting with the Lord in the burning bush, Moses meets the Lord multiple times. In one striking example, after the exodus of the Israelites from Egypt, Moses once again meets the Lord, now at the door of the newly constructed tabernacle and speaking to Moses face-to-face, “as one speaks to a friend” (Exodus 33:11). Moses appeals to the Lord, saying, “Please, show me your glory” (v. 18; emphasis added). Here we may expect to have a physical manifestation of glory like light, fire, and other visual spectacles. However, the Lord’s response to this request may be a bit surprising. The Lord promises, “I will make all my goodness pass before you, and I will proclaim my name, Jehovah, in your presence” (v. 19; emphasis added), revealing that his glory is, in some part, his goodness. When Moses asks to see the Lord’s glory, he sees an experience that is extraordinary—a direct encounter with the Lord. The distinct reference to Moses and the Lord meeting face-to-face as friends highlights the personal nature of the encounter.

The passage suggests that to “see” the Lord’s glory is to perceive and understand his character. It is not just about witnessing the supernatural radiance or might and awe but about comprehending his love, justice, and compassion. This understanding of glory has implications for the covenant relationship between God and his people; it signifies the Lord’s willingness to make himself known, to be present among his people, and to reveal his nature to them. Thus, the Lord’s response indicates glory is not only a visual phenomenon but a revelation of his character and true self.[12]

Moses also receives another personal manifestation, the declaration of the Lord’s sacred name, Jehovah. In addition to these divine blessings of seeing God’s goodness and hearing him speak his name, Moses is told that he will receive these personal manifestations “because I will do the very thing you have asked because I am pleased with you, and I know you by name” (Exodus 33:17; emphasis added).

Glory as Relationship

The foregoing example of glory and the Lord’s interaction with a prophet is utterly profound and deeply moving. Before Moses asked to see the Lord’s “glory,” we learn that they met face-to-face as friends. Establishing a relationship—an utterly intimate and dear relationship—comes before this manifestation of the Lord’s additional attributes. We see that the Lord’s interactions with Moses transcend a mere spectacle of light; they are relational and deeply personal. The request of Moses to see the Lord’s glory is met not with a simple visual display but with a multifaceted revelation of divine nature. The Lord’s promise to make “all my goodness pass before you” (Exodus 33:19) suggests that to witness God’s glory is to experience the fullness of his moral and ethical character, mercy, and grace. It is a glory that is felt and understood, not just seen. In choosing to reveal himself, the Lord chose an illustrative personal attribute: his goodness. He did not choose to reveal to Moses his power—or an aspect of that power, such as his ability to destroy. Instead he revealed his goodness and, furthermore, his name. The Lord’s proclamation of his name, Jehovah, in Moses’s presence was an act of trust and intimacy. By revealing his name, God shared his essence and identity and established a covenantal relationship with Moses.[13] The divine declaration “I know you by name” (v. 17) personalizes this encounter. It is a mark of divine favor that signifies a deep knowing and a selection for a special purpose. For Moses, this is an assurance of his unique standing with God, as deeply personal and known.

Glory takes on added depth as a concept when viewed in its personal, relational, and covenantal dimensions. The divine response to Moses’s plea is not limited to an external display of power but is an internal and external transformation marked by divine presence and a covenantal relationship. These aspects of glory have ramifications for our understanding of divine-human relationships, suggesting that encounters with God are designed to reveal his majesty and transform us, bringing us into closer, more intimate fellowship with him. This transformative power of glory aligns with the doctrine noted earlier that “the glory of God is intelligence, or, in other words, light and truth,” emphasizing that our spiritual enlightenment and acquisition of truth are integral to our divine communion and progression. Therefore, the divine revelation to Moses becomes a template for understanding the purpose and potential of our encounters with the divine, inviting us to seek a similar depth of relationship and transformation.

Glory as Transformation

As we have seen, the concept of glory encompasses not only the physical manifestations of the divine (such as light and fire) and the pursuit of knowledge, but also the transformative process and potential of humanity. The Apostle Paul’s words to the Corinthians, “We . . . are changed into the same image from glory to glory” (2 Corinthians 3:18), capture the essence of this process: a step-by-step refinement and elevation of our nature toward a more divine state. This process is one of becoming, wherein we gradually take on the divine attributes as we grow from one degree of glory to another.

The Doctrine and Covenants provides a further glimpse into the multifaceted nature of glory in the afterlife. Section 76 details the varying degrees of glory—celestial, terrestrial, and telestial—each reflecting the divine light according to the law abided (vv. 50–119). In these passages, we see a direct correlation between our actions, choices, and the glory we receive in the Resurrection, suggesting that glory is not just a state of being but also a consequence of our righteousness.

Thus, glory is portrayed as an exalted state, embodying divine attributes and the culmination of salvation. In the narrative of 3 Nephi 28, while the term glory is not explicitly used to describe the transformation of the Three Nephites, the account of their change “from mortality to immortality” and their sanctification “in the flesh” (vv. 8, 39) reflects a movement toward a glorious state, one we call glorification. In verse 8 the Lord specifically references the Nephites’ desire to be on earth for his glorious return: “When I shall come in my glory ye shall be changed in the twinkling of an eye from mortality to immortality; and then shall ye be blessed in the kingdom of my Father.” Their transformation—their glorification—experience embodies the scriptural theme of glorification, in which people are prepared to “dwell with God eternally in the heavens” (v. 40). Such a profound alteration of their nature resonates with the broader concept of glory as a divine attribute and a state of existence that is closer to God’s own eternal nature.

Joseph’s Transformation

In the First Vision, Joseph Smith experienced the power of the Lord’s glory in transformative ways. In the 1835 account, he speaks of the Lord’s glory in these terms: “A pillar of fire appeared above my head, it presently rested down upon me and filled me with joy unspeakable.”[14] The glory of the Lord, the pillar, did not just surround Joseph; it permeated and “filled” him. It also changed him. The sensation had a lasting impact, as he states in the 1832 account: “My soul was filled with love, and for many days I could rejoice with great joy. The Lord was with me.”[15] Joseph reflected on the life-altering and transformative experience. He described feelings of enduring joy and love. This encounter was not just a fleeting moment but a transformative event that left an indelible mark on his soul, altering his perception of the celestial. While the First Vision and Joseph’s experience with the Lord of glory were only the beginning of his prophetic experiences, his spiritual and emotional descriptions of their effects are striking. This was only the first vision, and Joseph’s recounting of the event, even in our example twelve years later, reflects its profound impact. In addition to the changes of feelings, the encounter was told again and again. The tangible experience of the pillar of fire, the manifestation of glory, was physically and emotionally altering and spiritually impactful. For this reason, Joseph begins with this vision as he recounts the rise of the Church.[16]

Prophets have taught about the Lord’s transforming power. For example, Alma asks, “Have ye spiritually been born of God? Have ye received his image in your countenances? Have ye experienced this mighty change in your hearts?” (Alma 5:14). Thus our approach to the divine is predicated on a process of spiritual cleansing facilitated by the Atonement, which is essential for our spiritual progression and preparation to continue to enter and dwell in the presence of the Lord. When engaged, the transformative power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ makes us worthy to stand in the Lord’s presence. We see all these elements combined as the Lord himself proclaims, “Verily, thus saith the Lord: It shall come to pass that every soul who forsaketh his sins and cometh unto me, and calleth on my name, and obeyeth my voice, and keepeth my commandments, shall see my face and know that I am” (Doctrine and Covenants 93:1). Joseph Smith’s visionary experience in the Sacred Grove is a testament to the fulfillment of this divine promise.

The Lord’s Work and Glory

Perhaps the most profound statement on glory within Restoration scripture is in Moses 1:39, where the Lord declares his work and glory “to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.” Here glory is not merely a by-product of divine manifestation—it is the very purpose and objective of God’s endeavors. It is the culmination of the divine plan, the end for which all creation was made. In this light we understand that glory is multifaceted. In both the Old and New Testaments, glory begins with the physical manifestation of the Lord, often symbolized by light, fire, and radiance. Yet, as illuminated by Restoration scripture, glory transcends physical manifestations to embody humanity’s ultimate potential and destiny. It is both the method and the aim—the means by which God transforms us and the end state he desires for us. It is a divine attribute, a transformative power, and an eternal potential.

Glory is the light that emanates from God, the path laid out for us to follow, and the destination we strive to reach. It encapsulates the journey of life, the process of sanctification, and the promise of eternal progression. Through this lens, we see glory not just as a divine attribute but as an invitation to become partakers of the divine nature, progressing ever forward in the light and love of God. Thus, the Lord’s naming himself as the “Lord of glory” may encapsulate the essence of his salvation offered to all people—a theme profoundly echoed in the Restoration. Joseph Smith’s pivotal First Vision encapsulates the entire spectrum of hope for salvation within this singular, powerful title for the Savior.

The Lord Calls Joseph “My Son”

The Lord’s self-identification as the Lord of glory affirms his divine majesty and is a striking reminder of his intimate involvement with his children. Through this glorified lens, we witness the unfolding Restoration, a divine act to bring the light of the fullness of the gospel. The Restoration begins with the Prophet Joseph and his First Vision. In the Sacred Grove, the Lord identifies himself and calls to the young prophet with powerful and poignant words, “Joseph, my son.” These words are now our next area of exploration. To better understand the profound implications of this divine address, we explore the context of Joseph’s experience and the Lord’s choice of words revealing the relationship between the Lord and Joseph.

Joseph

As we recall, Joseph’s internal and external catalysts drove him to pray in the Sacred Grove that day. His internal desire was to be absolved from sin; connectedly, his external drive was to find a church that contained a “system” of correct belief and practice. In his 1832 account he recalled, “At about the age of twelve years my mind become seriously impressed with regard to the all-important concerns for the welfare of my immortal soul.”[17] His mind at that time had become exceedingly distressed, for he “became convicted of [his] sins.” He then expressed, “I felt to mourn for my own sins and for the sins of the world.”[18] The words Joseph used to describe his spiritual state are powerful and provocative. “Seriously impressed,” “exceedingly distressed,” and mourning over his condition, Joseph sought divine assistance as his external environment added to the consuming nature of the internal burden.

Joseph’s internal stresses caused by an inability to be forgiven of his sin were combined with the external religious conflict he experienced. Joseph described his quest as follows: “My object in going to inquire of the Lord was to know which of all the sects was right, that I might know which to join” (Joseph Smith—History 1:18). Other passages help illuminate what Joseph may have meant by the phrase “which of all the sects was right.” In his 1832 account, Joseph emphasized the incongruity between the righteous living and correct beliefs that he found described in the Bible and the practitioners of religion in his day who did not “adorn their profession by a holy walk and Godly conversation.”[19] In 1835 Joseph indicated that the different “systems taught the children of men” led him to be confused as to which system would lead to his desired “eternal consequences.”[20] He further elaborated on this idea in his 1842 account, where he discussed the different versions of the plan of salvation taught by each of the sects, indicating that these represented “a great clash in religious sentiment.” Joseph reasoned that if “God had a church it would not be split up into factions, and that if he taught one society to worship one way, and administer in one set of ordinances, he would not teach another principles which were diametrically opposed.”[21]

Joseph’s quest to find relief from his internal and external stressors was complicated by the “contest of opinions” he witnessed among the professors of religion (Joseph Smith—History 1:10). These external conflicts left Joseph confused to the point that he felt “there was none else to whom I could go” but to God. He further expressed the spiritual crisis he was undergoing in the religious contentions of the day as he described not only how they approached each other but how they affected him, describing their “war or words” and “tumult of opinions” (v. 10). All this stands in stark contrast to the order he saw in nature and in the attributes of God.

For Joseph the world around him evidenced the presence of a powerful and knowing God. “I looked,” he explained, “upon the sun the glorious luminary of the earth and also the moon rolling in their majesty through the heavens and also the stars shining in their courses and the earth also.” For him these celestial objects testified of God, as did the “beast of the field and the fowls of heaven and the fish of the waters and also man walking forth.” He continued, “My heart exclaimed all these bear testimony and bespeak an omnipotent and omnipresent power a being who maketh laws and decreeth and bindeth all things in their bounds.”[22] Despite this understanding, Joseph was still experiencing the internal and external conflicts of the soul. The discrepancy between an ordered and powerful God and Joseph’s inability to find peace personally and publicly likely made God seem distant or even indifferent, highlighting a crisis with which many can empathize—the quest for a personal relationship with the Creator amid a world of contradictions and conflict. Similarly, the order and organization of the natural world seemed to influence Joseph to think that the religious world, if motivated by the same being, ought to display similar clarity and order. There ought to be truth without contradiction, worship without animosity.

In this light the phrase “Joseph, my son” can be seen as God’s direct answer to that existential crisis. It provides an anchor in a sea of personal and religious confusion. This initial statement of the Restoration did much more than direct a young boy where to find a church or personal relief; God, the creator of the universe, was restoring a son. It seems that God was teaching Joseph that the eventual work of restoring the Church of Christ must always be contextualized with the divine purpose of that ecclesiastical organization foremost in mind. “The word of the Lord concerning his church, established in the last days for the restoration of his people,” had begun through the restoration of his son Joseph.[23] Thus the transcending purpose of God’s work among us today is more than building up a church or filling the pews on Sunday mornings, but filling the people in those pews with divine communion. The single-minded focus is on restoring people to their divine relationship with their eternal Father.[24]

Like this modern vision, the Lord addressed ancient people in specific and knowing ways. To Moses, he said, “Moses, Moses, . . . I am the God of thy father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob’” (Exodus 3:4, 6). With these words, the Lord established his divine identity and connection to Moses’s ancestors, invoking a sense of continuity and purpose. Furthermore, the Lord reminded Moses that he has not only observed Moses himself but has also seen his people—their afflictions, their servitude—and is now coming to deliver them from their plight (vv. 7–8).

Moses’s background holds profound significance for comprehending his encounter with God and his ensuing response. Having grown up in Pharaoh’s palace while still being a Hebrew by birth, then fleeing for his life and marrying a Midianite, Moses embodies a complex identity between different peoples (Exodus 2).[25] He belonged neither to Egypt nor solely to the Hebrews. Thus, when the Lord calls out to him from the midst of the blazing branches, uttering “Moses, Moses,” it carries immense weight (3:4). At this moment Moses stands as a man without a distinct place or people, yet the Lord recognizes him. At this moment Moses is known. He belongs.

Similarly, Joseph, a young boy dwelling on the American frontier, lacked social stature, political influence, or remarkable achievements. He was, by all accounts, an unassuming youth. Joseph’s education was limited to three formal years.[26] He was not a theologian, pastor, or priest. He was not even the oldest in his own family. In his own words, “I was an obscure boy . . . and my circumstances in life such as to make a boy of no consequence in the world.”[27] He was just a boy reaching out with real intent to know the Lord. And within a vision radiant with light and glory, the Lord addresses him with the words, “Joseph, my son.” The Creator of all things, the Lord of all, intimately knows Joseph.

The Lord’s first words brim with closeness and solace. Through the embrace of a name, the Divine calls out to a young man who may feel disconnected from a people, alone, unimportant, and unrecognized, yet the Savior reassures him that he acknowledges and recognizes him. The tender addressing of his name, “Joseph,” conveys not a resounding thunder or an overwhelming burst of light but rather the gentle voice of one who is deeply familiar. From within the brilliance of a burning bush or a pillar of fire emanates not an intimidating force but the comforting presence of someone who truly knows. The Lord’s first expressions radiate with closeness, compassion, and care, forging a bridge of connection between the finite and the Infinite.

My Son

The divine title “my son,” bestowed upon both Moses and Joseph (Moses 1:6; Joseph Smith—History 1:17), has profound significance. This intimate form of address serves as a poignant reminder of the personal and caring nature of their relationship with God.[28] Such a title surpasses mere designation; it embodies a deep familial connection between the Creator and his chosen instruments. In this endearing term, God affirms their distinct identities and highlights his comprehensive understanding of their unique experiences and roles in his divine plan. This personalized interaction stands as a testament to his omniscience and boundless affection for his children. This title reflects a Lord who not only knows but deeply loves, underlining the idea of a compassionate and actively engaged God in the lives of his creation. This portrayal starkly contrasts with the distant and punitive perception Joseph had once grappled with, revealing instead a God described in Exodus 34 as “merciful, gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in covenantal love and faithfulness.”[29] Through these interactions, the Lord is revealed as a deity whose nature embodies compassion, patience, and a steadfast commitment to his covenants.

In both instances, it is not only the Lord’s words but the manner of their delivery that leaves such an indelible impression. When God calls Moses and Joseph by name, he does not shout from the heavens or speak in tones of fire and thunder. Instead, the voice of the Lord is often described as still, small, or gentle, as if to affirm that the relationship between the Savior and the individual is not one of intimidation but of intimate knowledge and care (1 Kings 19:12). This distinction is particularly striking given the overwhelmingly magnificent settings in which these communications occur—a burning bush and a pillar of light—contrasts that amplify the gentle intimacy of the Lord’s voice. It is as if the Lord uses the grandeur of these manifestations to underscore the paradoxical closeness he maintains with each human soul. The Lord exists both in the unfathomable grandeur of fire and light and in the gentle voice that calls us each by name. This duality captures the essence of a God who is both awe-inspiring and deeply personal, who wields the power to shape galaxies yet cherishes each whispered prayer.

Implications

In these two poignant moments—Moses before the burning bush and Joseph amid the pillar of light—we find a universal human story encapsulated. Both men stand at a crossroads, not merely of religious affiliation or societal role, but of existential meaning. They represent every individual who has looked up at the stars or down into the pages of a sacred text and wondered, “Where do I fit in this grand scheme? Is there a God who knows me?” The personal call from God serves as a definitive answer to these enduring questions, demonstrating that the Lord knows each of us amid the vast tapestry of creation. The Lord’s tender and personal words to the young prophet Joseph Smith offer solace to anyone navigating the labyrinth of religious ideologies, societal expectations, or personal doubts, affirming that each life holds unique value and purpose in the eyes of God. The vast majority of God’s children will likely not see a similar pillar of light nor a burning bush, but each can experience a personal God.

In conclusion, we circle back to the heart of what the Lord’s glory truly embodies: “This is my work and my glory, to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man” (Moses 1:39). The Lord’s glory is not an abstract concept nor a fleeting spectacle; it is a divine commitment to the transformation and eternal progression of each human soul. He knows each of us intimately. It is his glory not only to guide us back to him but also to elevate us to our fullest potential, making the transformative power of his glory not just a theological concept but a deeply personal, lived experience.

Conclusion

The narrative analysis of divine self-introduction is a revelatory gateway through which we can learn more about the Lord’s character and his mission to save, as well as a lens to understand the individuals with whom he communicates. It offers us far more than just historical or scriptural details; it provides a framework for understanding the intimate and multifaceted relationship between God and humanity. In his specific words and phrasing, we see that the Lord has specifically and deliberately chosen how to introduce himself, enriching our understanding of both his divine nature and his enduring love for us.

In the First Vision, God introduces himself to Joseph Smith in a manner that aligns perfectly with this narrative framework. His address, “Joseph, my son,” encapsulates the closeness and familiarity God wishes to establish with his children. Concurrently, the Savior’s identification as the “Lord of glory,” crucified for the salvation of the world, reveals the overarching divine mission that these encounters serve. The power and majesty of the Lord of glory are made manifest not just in cosmic wonders but in his ability to save and exalt.

The complexities within these self-introductions also highlight the Lord’s multifaceted character, one that is at once majestic and meaningful, powerful and personal. It is as if each introduction is designed for the prophet and his day and challenges, but it is also applicable to all time as we learn more of the Lord’s divine attributes. Importantly, these revelations bear witness to the Lord’s glory as not only an abstract concept but as a transformative force that imbues these interactions with gravity and eternal significance. This glory is intended to not only explain an abstract force but to draw us into a deeper covenantal relationship with him.

Therefore, these divine self-introductions serve as a profound answer to the questions that have haunted humanity since the dawn of consciousness: Is there a God who knows me? Do I have a purpose in this vast universe? The answer, affirmed by these revelatory instances, is a resounding yes. God knows us intimately and has a divine plan for each life. He is not only the God of prophets and leaders but the God who reaches out to each of his children individually, offering them a path back to him. In the words of the Lord himself, this is his work and his glory: to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man, to call each of us by name, and to make us his own—forever sealing the familial bond that is at the heart of these divine encounters.

Notes

[1] History, circa Summer 1832, p. 3, www.josephsmithpapers.org; punctuation normalized. In the original text the words “my son” are added above the original line.

[2] Robert Alter, The Art of Bible Translation (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2019), xiii.

[3] Psalm 24 has three examples using the divine title “King of Glory.” While this text is beautiful and significant in its connection of glory to the covenant, the temple, and relationship, its usage deserves a more in-depth analysis and treatment than this short paper could give. Additionally, because the Psalmist gives the Lord the title, it is not a self-designation and so lies outside our scope.

[4] All translations of Hebrew are that of the author, Lori Denning. Denning has chosen to use her own translations to avoid any unclear language present in other English translations.

[5] Francis Brown, S. R. Driver, and Charles A. Briggs, A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament (Oxford: Clarendon, 1906), s.v. “glory,” entry 3519.

[6] We often see this figurative meaning being reflected physically. Fine clothing or displays of wealth reflect this understanding.

[7] Richard Bauckham, Gospel of Glory: Major Themes in Johannine Theology (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2015), 44.

[8] Blue Letter Bible, s.v. “δόξα,” www.blueletterbible.org/lexicon/g1391/kjv/tr/0-1/.

[9] Bauckham, Gospel of Glory, 44.

[10] History, circa Summer 1832, p. 3, www.josephsmithpapers.org. All JSP citations herein use standardized spelling.

[11] Appendix: Orson Pratt, A[n] Interesting Account of Several Remarkable Visions, 1840, p. 5, www.josephsmithpapers.org.

[12] In Exodus 34:5–6, when the Lord passes by Moses, the Lord declares his name and attributes. The description of the Lord as merciful, gracious, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, and forgiving aligns with our exploration of the attributes of the Lord, who is just and merciful.

[13] There are numerous scriptural examples of when the giving of a name is part of a covenant with the Lord, including Genesis 17:5, where Abram’s name is changed as part of his receiving the covenant and a new role “as father of many nations.” Jacob’s name is changed to Israel after a wrestle with an angel (32:28). His new name symbolizes his struggle with God and men and his prevailing as well as his covenant relationship with God and his role as an ancestor to the Israelites. In the sacramental prayer, participants vow in covenant to “take upon them the name of [Jesus Christ]” (Doctrine and Covenants 20:77).

[14] Journal, 1835–1836, p. 24, www.josephsmithpapers.org.

[15] Journal, 1835–1836, p. 24, www.josephsmithpapers.org.

[16] The impact of this vision on Joseph is clear. He begins his history of the Church by detailing the motivations behind his First Vision and then describes the event in detail. History, circa June 1839–circa 1841 (Draft 2), p. 1, www.josephsmithpapers.org.

[17] History, circa Summer 1832, p. 2, www.josephsmithpapers.org.

[18] History, circa Summer 1832, p. 2, www.josephsmithpapers.org.

[19] History, circa Summer 1832, p. 2, www.josephsmithpapers.org.

[20] Journal, 1835–1836, p. 23, www.josephsmithpapers.org.

[21] “Church History,” 1 March 1842, p. 706, www.josephsmithpapers.org.

[22] History, circa Summer 1832, pp. 2–3, www.josephsmithpapers.org.

[23] Doctrine and Covenants 84:2. See Patrick Q. Mason, Restoration: God’s Call to the 21st-Century World (Meridian, ID: Faith Matters, 2020), 12–13.

[24] See Mason, Restoration, 13–21.

[25] Moses is described as Hebrew but raised by Pharaoh’s daughter, an Egyptian princess. Later we read that he marries into the family of Jethro, a Midianite. See Exodus 2; 3:1.

[26] “Joseph Smith and the Restoration,” Church Newsroom, www.churchofjesuschrist.org. Despite his lack of formal education, degrees, certificates, or membership in any respected guild, Joseph was a seeker and gifted learner. Brian L. Smith, “Joseph Smith: Gifted Learner, Master Teacher, Prophetic Seer,” in Joseph Smith: The Prophet, the Man, ed. Susan Easton Black and Charles D. Tate Jr. (Provo, UT: Religious Studies Center, Brigham Young University, 1993), 169–81.

[27] History, circa June 1839–circa 1841 (Draft 2), p. 4, www.josephsmithpapers.org.

[28] Some may wonder why Jesus Christ identified Joseph as his son. One possibility is that, as recorded by King Benjamin, we become “children of Christ” through the covenant of baptism. That is, Christ effectively becomes the father of our rebirth. Another possibility is exemplified by the sons of Helaman. Helaman led a group of young Nephite men into battle, and his emotions and love for these young men caused him to call them his sons (Alma 56:10).

[29] Exodus 34:6, author’s translation. While the word chesed חֶ֥סֶד could be translated as “lovingkindness,” that definition fails to capture the deeper concept of covenantal love that is implied in the word when it is combined with ‘faithfulness.’ Thus, we have included both ideas in our definition. The Lord will go on to explain to Joseph that his “anger is kindling against the inhabitants of the earth.” In Joseph’s 1838 account, the Lord indicates that the people draw near to God with their lips but their hearts are far from him (Joseph Smith—History 1:19). In the Lord’s preface to the Doctrine and Covenants, he explains that because he has known the “calamity” (the context of the statement seems to suggest spiritual calamity) that will come upon the earth, he “spake” unto Joseph and gave him directions, or commandments (see Doctrine and Covenants 1:17 and 82:10). Thus, as the hearts and actions of his children diverge from his desires, he speaks from heaven through a prophet. Joseph’s experience shows God’s mercy not only to Joseph individually but to mankind collectively. God has called a prophet, and He speaks from heaven so that you and I and Joseph may know how to “adorn [our] profession by a holy walk and godly conversation agreeable to what [is] found contained in that sacred depository.” See page 2 of Joseph’s 1832 account for the previous citation.