The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS Church) presents a unique culture of service that, on the surface, embodies principles of generosity and communal support. Members are encouraged to consecrate their "time, talents, and all that [they] possess" to serve the Church and its mission. For many, this is a solemn commitment, undertaken with a genuine desire to uplift and build their faith community. However, a closer examination reveals a more troubling undercurrent, where these principles of service and sacrifice are sometimes extended to the point of exploitation. The unwavering dedication of members, and particularly missionaries, has become, in some instances, a resource the Church relies upon to a degree that crosses the boundaries of voluntary service and enters a realm of presumed entitlement. This dynamic of exploitation, while nuanced, affects countless members who feel they must give more than they can bear without the freedom to voice their reservations.
A significant portion of LDS members devote hours, skills, and resources… often at great personal expense… because of their commitment to their faith. But many of these individuals, despite their dedication, face demands that place undue strain on their finances, physical health, and mental well-being. As shared in accounts to follow, there exists a strong cultural expectation within the Church that members should place Church duties above their personal lives, careers, and surprisingly… even family needs. This expectation, while rooted in a tradition of mutual support, can blur into exploitation when it goes unacknowledged and becomes coercive. Church members are often assigned “callings” or tasks that utilize their unique professional skills, sometimes in ways that would typically be compensated in a secular context. Lawyers, doctors, musicians, teachers, and tradespeople frequently find themselves requested to perform specialized labor for free, under the banner of service. The Church, benefiting from these contributions, can easily appear to disregard the potential legal risks, professional boundaries, and personal needs of these individuals. The expectation of free labor, especially for members with specialized skills, can make them feel trapped… obliged to comply or face repercussions like disapproval, guilt, or isolation from their community. Many members face these expectations silently. The Church’s influence over the personal lives of its adherents is profound, and for those raised within its doctrines, the notion of saying "no" can feel like an act of rebellion. Or perhaps “prideful” and “sinful” which than brings on feelings of guilt or shame. There's an unspoken understanding among members that voicing frustration could invite accusations of lacking faith or commitment. The pressure to meet these expectations without question leaves many feeling exploited, though they may feel unable to articulate or even fully acknowledge this sentiment due to the cultural norms of the Church. Such pressures perpetuate a culture where dissent is stifled, and legitimate concerns are marginalized in favor of maintaining an image of unwavering devotion.
An inherent power dynamic exists within the LDS Church structure, which, coupled with the weight of religious obligation, amplifies the risk of exploitation. Church leaders hold significant authority, and their requests, however benignly intended, carry the implicit expectation that members will comply without hesitation. This dynamic can discourage members from setting boundaries, as they fear that doing so could be perceived as insubordination or a lack of faith. The authority figures within the Church, even when well-meaning, can unwittingly leverage their influence in a way that pressures members into taking on tasks that they may feel uncomfortable or even unqualified to perform. The Church’s approach to missions exemplifies a problematic aspect of its operational model. Missionaries, both young and old, are expected to finance their own service. For senior missionaries, particularly those in their later years, the physical demands and financial costs of missionary work can be overwhelming. They are frequently tasked with physically strenuous duties and are responsible for all related expenses, often without adequate support or resources. This practice, while framed as an act of faith, raises ethical concerns about how far the Church is willing to go to cut costs at the expense of its own members’ well-being.
The cultural expectation of selfless service permeates every aspect of LDS life, including the way members interact with each other. Church members with certain skills or assets often face frequent requests from fellow members and leaders alike, creating a sense that their resources belong not to them but to the community. This entitlement extends beyond the professional realm, affecting personal possessions and time. Members who own equipment, such as boats, or who possess specialized skills, such as mechanical repair, are often approached with the assumption that they will readily offer these for Church activities or the needs of other members… without compensation or consideration of their personal circumstances.
Many individuals feel that their personal lives are intruded upon, not only by Church leaders but by other members who view their time and resources as extensions of the Church’s communal assets. This culture of presumed generosity, while rooted in communal support, places an enormous burden on those who may be quietly struggling to balance their Church obligations with their own life demands. For some, this expectation of unending service leads to burnout, frustration, and a sense of being taken advantage of.
–Yet, few feel they can voice their grievances, as doing so would disrupt the harmony that is expected within the faith community.--
One of the more troubling aspects of this dynamic is the way it stifles dissent. Members who might otherwise express concerns or frustrations are often silenced by the weight of community expectations. To challenge the Church’s practices, particularly on issues of service and resource allocation, is to risk isolation or even ostracism. This discourages members from advocating for healthier boundaries and creates an environment where exploitation can flourish unchecked. Those who find the courage to express their discomfort often face criticism or are accused of lacking commitment. As a result, many members continue to fulfill Church requests to the detriment of their own well-being, believing that … silence is the price of acceptance.
In these circumstances, the Church’s emphasis on selflessness takes on a darker tone. The constant invocation of service as a sacred duty makes it difficult for members to refuse, even when they are physically or financially unable to meet the expectations placed upon them. The rhetoric around sacrifice is so ingrained that members may feel guilty for even considering their own needs. This internalized guilt reinforces the cycle of exploitation, as members push themselves to ever greater lengths, hoping to meet an ideal of faithfulness that, in reality, is often unsustainable.
In an era when mental health and personal boundaries are gaining greater recognition, the LDS Church’s model of service may seem out of step with contemporary understandings of well-being and self-care. Members who struggle under the weight of these expectations are often left feeling alienated, as their needs go unrecognized by a community that prioritizes Church service above all else. The anonymous stories to follow illustrate this struggle vividly, highlighting the ways in which the Church’s model of unceasing service can wear down even the most devout members. These individuals, who have dedicated their lives and resources to the Church, find themselves grappling with the consequences of a system that takes their goodwill for granted.
The LDS Church’s approach to service, while inspired by principles of generosity and sacrifice, can inadvertently create an environment where members are expected to give without limit, sometimes to their detriment. The accounts that follow illustrate the deeply personal cost of this dynamic, as members navigate the fine line between voluntary service and exploitation within a faith community they love. Through these stories, it becomes clear that the Church must acknowledge the toll its expectations take on individuals and work toward a model of service that respects personal boundaries and promotes sustainable engagement for all members.
–Here are these anonymous personal stories regarding exploitation within the church, I will add to it as I receive more. If you have a story, let me know in the comments or message me on Facebook:
-Someone shared a story with me recently about her parents that truly struck a chord. Her parents, both in their eighties, were called by the Church to serve in Kirtland, Ohio. Her father (in his 80), a retired house painter, was asked to help with painting and restoration work there, while her mother, who is also elderly, was given supportive roles that included painting and cleaning. Yet, given her age and physical limitations, her mother simply cannot sustain that kind of labor all day.
What’s more unsettling is that they’re covering all their own expenses to be there. Despite their advanced age and the demands of the work, they’re paying to perform tasks that, in any other setting, would require hired hands. As my friend put it, it feels as though the Church is calling individuals… both young and old… not just to serve, but to provide free labor. It raises questions about the balance between service and what mig.ht seem, at times, like exploitation of the very dedication the Church inspires in its members.
-Another person, a doctor, shared a story that I found eye-opening. Several times, they’ve been asked by their Church leaders to perform physical exams on youth before camps, ensuring that each young person’s forms were filled out and cleared. Although this might sound straightforward, it’s far from their area of expertise (at the time they were an OBGYN) they aren’t a pediatrician and aren’t trained to assess youth health with the level of precision needed. The request would have required them to put in many hours of work, unpaid, all to accommodate the Church’s requirements. After careful thought, they declined. Not only would it have been an immense time commitment, but they also recognized the legal risks involved. If something serious had gone undetected in one of those kids… something a pediatrician would be far better suited to catch… my friend could have been held liable. It’s a reminder of the complexities and pressures that professionals within the Church sometimes face, expected to volunteer their specialized skills without the safety nets or support systems that would typically be in place for such responsibilities.
-Another person shared with me an experience that left them feeling uncomfortable about the Church's expectations. They own a boat, which they and their sister both know how to operate and maintain. Repeatedly, Church leaders approached them, asking to use the boat for youth activities… yet, rather than involving this person or their sister in these outings, they requested the boat be used without them. Essentially, they wanted access to their property without the offer of their presence or expertise in operating it safely. This person, understandably, declined each time. The leaders’ response was less than gracious; they seemed irritated by the refusal. The persistent requests, coupled with the dismissive attitude when turned down, left this person feeling as though their generosity was being taken for granted. This story speaks to a larger issue of boundaries and respect, especially when it comes to personal property and the expectation of selfless service within the Church.
-Another person shared a story with me that speaks volumes about the unspoken expectations sometimes placed on Church members. In a distant ward, there was a mechanic who made his living repairing cars. Over the years, he was constantly approached by fellow members who couldn’t afford car repairs, and out of the kindness of his heart, he would help them. For years, he fixed their cars for free, often covering the cost of parts out of his own pocket, without any reimbursement. But eventually, the sacrifices he was making began to take a toll. The time he spent helping others cut into precious moments with his family. When he finally decided to say no, prioritizing his family and personal well-being, the Church leaders were less than pleased. They saw his skill as a “gift” he should continually offer, regardless of the cost to him. This story is a powerful reminder of the fine line between service and exploitation and how good intentions can sometimes be taken advantage of, especially within close-knit communities.
-A former sister missionary shared a troubling experience from her mission in 2014. Part of her service included projects that seemed far beyond the scope of what young missionaries should handle… especially without the necessary protective equipment. She and her companion were tasked with cleaning out multiple hoarder homes, environments that exposed them to various contaminants, including human waste, without any personal protective equipment (PPE). When she raised her concerns with her mission president, he brushed them aside, insisting that they were providing a valuable service that these individuals couldn't otherwise afford and reassuring her that the Lord would protect them. Despite these reassurances, the only person who seemed genuinely concerned for the sisters' safety was the Relief Society president. She managed to convince the bishop to bring in professionals for one of the hoarder cases and even contacted adult protective services to ensure proper support for the individual. In another area, a similar situation arose, but this time, the bishop realized that the hoarder was exploiting the missionaries for free labor and intervened to stop it. This story underscores the importance of proper boundaries and safety measures, especially when young missionaries are asked to engage in work that could put their health at risk.
-Another person shared a story with me. This individual began playing piano for church meetings at just 13, forced by their parents despite their discomfort with performing in front of others. This early experience led to a lifelong aversion to public performance. Even as they grew older, became a young mother, and managed a demanding life that included PhD coursework, a university job, and a side gig renovating homes, the Church continued to ask for their musical talents. The requests came constantly… playing for Primary, the choir, accompanying solos, even taking on the organ, though it wasn’t their preferred instrument. The expectation of service not only took a toll on their personal time but also strained their relationship with their non-Mormon husband. Whenever they expressed reluctance or attempted to decline, they were met with guilt and pressure. It didn’t seem to matter that another member of their ward, a piano student’s father, was also capable of playing; the burden repeatedly fell on them. Finally, on one Sunday, sitting behind the organ, they had an epiphany. They decided they would not return… and they haven’t since.
-Another person shared with me a couple of experiences that shed light on the ongoing lack of respect for personal effort and talent. One time, they were asked to play piano as soft background music in the Relief Society room during a singles dance, creating a calm space for those who wanted a break from the main event. They were glad to help and showed up ready to play. But at the entrance, they were told they had to pay admission for the dance, despite coming specifically to provide the music. When they explained they were playing for the event and should be exempt from the fee, they were met with a firm refusal. Reluctantly, they paid, though they felt it was wrong to be charged at all. Another time, they were asked to be the ward choir pianist and accepted, practicing tirelessly for a particularly challenging Christmas piece. Just a few days before the performance, the choir conductor informed them that another pianist, deemed more proficient, would play that piece instead, while they could handle the rest. After investing so much time and dedication, they felt frustrated and unappreciated. In response, they told the conductor the other pianist could handle the entire performance, and they chose to attend a different ward where their son and his family were performing.
-A person shared their story with me, reflecting on the strain of growing up with an intense focus on musical performance within their family and church community. As a child in the 1970s and 80s, they often played piano solos during sacrament meetings, but their true passion was singing. Singing solos brought them joy, but playing the piano felt like an obligation. By age 16, after years of being forced to practice two hours a day, they’d had enough. The conflict over piano with their mother became so intense that they quit, vowing never to play at church again. Years later, in the late 90s or early 2000s, they returned to school to study music… specifically opera, a field they loved. During this time, their mother approached them in November with a request. She wanted them to gather their "singer friends" to perform at her ward’s Christmas party. Christmas, they noted, is the busiest season for singers lucky enough to secure gigs, on top of preparing for finals. They were furious at the expectation, which disregarded their demanding schedule and priorities.
They also recalled how, as the youngest in the family, they and their sister were routinely asked to provide background music for every cousin’s wedding reception… always held in church gyms. This story underscores the weight of expectations placed upon them and how it often conflicted with their own aspirations and boundaries.
-A high school math teacher shared their experience of frequently being assigned to the Young Women’s program every time they moved to a new ward… at least four or five instances they could recall. Despite their respectful requests to participate in Relief Society for a change, seeking a brief respite from working with teenagers all week, the callings remained the same. While they love their students, they longed for one day to recharge among adults. In addition to these callings, they were repeatedly asked to tutor children for free. In their area, a private math tutor with their level of experience typically earns between $50 and $75 an hour. However, they usually declined these tutoring requests, as they were often asked to assist with younger children in kindergarten through third grade… a skill set quite different from teaching high school students. Still, they occasionally helped a few teens without charge, trying to be of service where they could. This story speaks to the burdens that can arise when professional skills are expected to be offered freely, even at the expense of personal boundaries and self-care.
-A professional organizer shared their experience with me of frequently being asked by ward members to help clean their homes for free. Many of these requests involved severe hoarding situations, far from simple organizing tasks. When they explained that they charge an hourly rate for their professional services, some members reacted negatively, assuming that their membership entitled them to free access to these skills. Their experiences have included homes in such poor condition that police intervention was required, environments filled with animals they were highly allergic to, and situations entangled in dangerous family conflicts. They expressed feeling obligated to take on these challenging circumstances because of the covenant they made to offer their "self, time, talents, all that [they] possess and all that [they] may possess to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for the building up of Zion."
…This story highlights the complex dynamic faced by those whose professional expertise is often expected as an extension of their church commitment, even when it risks personal well-being and exceeds reasonable boundaries.
-Another person reached out to share the story of her aunt and uncle, a devoted couple who spent their lives tirelessly cleaning temples in Salt Lake City. Her uncle, who passed away at 91, and her aunt, now 87, were defined by their steadfast commitment, always giving wholeheartedly to every request made of them. She also recalls her father, a farmer, who was frequently called upon to transport his tractors to Church-owned farms and assist with various demanding tasks. He, too, has passed on, leaving behind a legacy of unacknowledged service. Their story underscores a heavy reality… a life of unreserved sacrifice often met with little recognition. It serves as a sobering reminder of the human cost behind unwavering devotion, exposing the weight borne by those who served selflessly in faith.
-One person reached out to share their story of exploitation within the Church… a story of dedication met with demands but little recognition or support. They were asked to serve as the technical director for a Moroni’s Quest event for the youth, a role that quickly turned into a significant time and financial commitment. Over 100 hours were spent recording more than 40 voice actors, creating a sound design recreation so the actors could rehearse effectively. This task alone, requiring skill and precision, was worth approximately $15,000 in time and development. Beyond that, they were also responsible for renting all audio equipment, leveraging their own business relationships to secure a 50% discount on these rentals. During the event, they had to technically direct and set up equipment for each outdoor scene, running the production from start to finish… a service that, if billed, would amount to around $12,000 each time. Despite performing this production three times, there was no compensation, only the expectation that their expertise and time were freely given.
The story doesn’t end there. The same person was later asked to assist with the technical production for a multi-stake Nativity pageant in the week leading up to Christmas. Though they covered the costs for lighting equipment, the stakes expected them to provide sound equipment as a “sponsored gift” and to work during Christmas Eve and Boxing Day. The labor Ialone for this production would have totaled $8,500 per year. After two years, they declined to help a third time due to a job conflict, which was met with surprise from the Church. Interestingly, the stakes decided to cancel the Nativity altogether that year, citing budget concerns as they opted to focus instead on the new Christmas Giving Tree initiative. Then, during the pandemic, this person was approached again… this time to help establish a YouTube streaming service for Sunday services. They worked each sacrament service for the following two years, despite finding the Church's support lacking when it came to improving and sustaining the streaming quality. Struggling to find work through COVID, this person approached the Stake President, hoping for employment to assist with setting up streaming services across all the chapels in their city’s multiple stakes. The response was a firm no, leaving them without the support they had hoped for in return for their years of dedicated, unpaid service.
Their story speaks volumes to the toll such repeated, unrecognized commitments take on members, especially those whose expertise and time are taken for granted rather than valued.
-Someone shared a story of a friend of hers, a single mother who ran a daycare from her home to support her family. When she was called to serve as a nursery leader, she broke down in tears. Sunday had been her one precious respite from caring for young children. Yet, they insisted that she was chosen because of her "gift" with little ones… a gift she already gave to others every day without pause.
-One person reached out saying that one year they bought a $20k truck with their spouse for scout camp. The husband was the YM president and the YM planned something that required a truck capable of towing a large trailer. The leader who they'd originally hoped to use became unavailable. This person suggested to them to rent a truck for the week, but their spouse refused because it did not fit within the YM budget. In order to protect that sacred budget, the spouse decided that it was time for their family to purchase a truck. Yes, they used the truck for many years for their own purposes and they had the money to purchase it, but it was overwhelming and weird to this person that they took that burden on themselves.
-Someone came to me about their retired parents who dedicate nearly all their free time as unpaid regional coordinators for BYU-I's English Connect program. Each time their mother speaks of it, there seems to be a weight in her voice, a weariness that makes it seem as if the commitment may be more burden than joy. Yet, as this person supposes, their parents hold fast to the hope of accumulating blessings in heaven as they press on despite the misery.
-A woman emailed me sharing her story, shedding light on how the LDS Church often relies on members’ professional skills without offering compensation or respecting the standards required by their fields. She had served a mission specifically for the deaf, becoming fluent in American Sign Language (ASL) and eventually building a career as a certified interpreter. In her field, qualified interpreters are paid $60 per hour, and certification is essential to ensure clients receive accurate and professional service… something especially critical in sensitive settings like medical or legal appointments… Despite this, the Church consistently called on her to interpret in various roles… from ward meetings and temple sessions to high-profile events like General Conference… without compensation or even verifying her certification. Her concern wasn’t just the lack of pay… it was also the disregard for the quality of communication deaf members received. On several occasions, she recommended that the Church hire certified interpreters through local agencies to ensure a high standard of care. But leaders typically replied, “We’ll be fine with whatever you can do. We’re in a bind.” She found herself repeatedly setting boundaries, reminding leaders that while they might be “fine,” the deaf members deserved more than the bare minimum… especially when ADA regulations require certified interpreters for meaningful access to communication.
…This situation points to a larger pattern within the Church of asking members to volunteer their time and skills in ways that sometimes stretch beyond what’s reasonable or safe. In one ward she was in, for example, a large family had discovered a severe raccoon infestation in their new fixer-upper home. Instead of hiring an exterminator, they sought help from ward members, recruiting men, women, teenagers, and even missionaries to handle the hazardous cleanup. Faced with the culture of “service above self,” many agreed, despite the real health risks involved. The pattern is clear: members are often placed in uncomfortable or even unsafe situations, as the call to serve is prioritized over their well-being, underscoring the need for clearer boundaries and respect for members’ professional and personal limits.
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