Why I Can’t Stop Thinking About the Story of Shari Franke’s Temple Recommend

November 15, 2025 Mindy May Farmer

In Shari Franke’s memoir, “The House of My Mother,” she recounts how, after leaving her parent’s home for college, an influential, older man in the LDS Church preyed upon her. This man, dubbed “Derek,” recognizes how Rube’s previous abuse and teachings about authority make her especially vulnerable to abuse and manipulation. When Derek pressures and overwhelms her with gifts and praise, then begins to sexually assault her, Shari reacts with well-honed responses from years of abuse: freezing and fawning.

Shari only comes to understand these trauma responses, lesser-known counterparts to fight or flight, after therapy sessions with a licensed professional. She begins to see how these trauma responses shaped her childhood and her dysfunctional relationship with her mother. Unfortunately, shame and ingrained teachings about sin still keep her from fully recognizing and seeking help ending Derek’s abuse. I think it must have been difficult to give her adult self the same grace she offered her younger self, even though both endured abuse and both needed support to heal before they could begin to change their situation.

When Derek’s manipulation, abuse, and stalking finally become unbearable, Shari seeks help from an aunt, then confesses to a concerned roommate. This deeply vulnerable moment with her roommate struck me as especially poignant. Shari describes her roommate, not unkindly, as ultra-devout. This is someone who follows every rule exactly, who leaves a room with foul language, and is a card-carrying member of the “Not Even Once Club.” I expect her to be judgmental and rigid (extra judgmental of me, I know) and Shari is unsure about how she’ll react.

Shari’s roommate actually responds immediately with compassion and kindness. She first works to remove shame out of the conversation, acknowledges abuse and coercion, and emphasizes healing over repentance. When Shari’s biggest fear comes up – losing her temple recommend to the one place she believes she could find solace and healing – her roommate immediately declares that it would be wrong and cruel for LDS Church leaders to take it away. She is confident that their Bishop will let Shari keep it.

It’s moments like these where I get a glimpse of the hope progressive people feel who remain active in the LDS Church. They claim that hearts are changing and young people are approaching the gospel differently. Substantial change feels tantalizingly close.

Except, the reality remains that these two young women hold no spiritual authority in their Church when it comes to making these kinds of decisions. It doesn’t matter what the spirit tells them, really, because they won’t make substantial decisions here. It’s also unlikely that they will question leader’s decisions, even if they feel wrong. Instead, they’ll allow obedience and a belief in priesthood authority to override their own spiritual authority and intuition. If they follow this pattern often enough, it will usually permanently silence dissent – at least externally.

In Shar’s situation, it didn’t even matter that a compassionate Bishop who knew her heart didn’t want to focus on sin and punishment and thought she should keep her temple recommend. He initially gave her hope that she could keep her recommend as she healed, but told her he had to take things up the chain of command to the Stake President. Unfortunately, this meant his focus became about her status with the Church, instead of counseling, support, and healing. After the Stake President had his say, Shari lost her temple recommend and her sacrament privileges for a time, reinforcing shame and unworthiness to a victim of abuse.

I don’t understand why this initial conversation with the Bishop ever even approached repentance or consequences. Why would the Lord’s representative not simply listen and then seek a path to healing and wholeness spiritually, mentally, emotionally, and physically? Shouldn’t any perceived sin be far down the list of concerns when someone has endured so much and has already suffered through not only abuse from someone else, but their own shame and self-recrimination?

What would it have looked like if, instead of barring this hurting young woman from what she believed to be the Lord’s house, leaders had opened the doors wider? What if she received the message that God would not be a part of continuing to traumatize her by denying her spiritual renewal and defining her worth by the actions of her abuser? What if she’d adorned herself in white and sat with her sisters in Christ to recommit to God in the temple and feel its peace? What if she’d sat in the Celestial room, where she felt closest to God, and felt the promised healing power of the atonement?

And what if – what if – those two young women received word back from the Bishop and still felt the spirit tell them Shari should keep her recommend and continue to take the sacrament? What if, instead of simply believing their spiritual authority had less value, they returned to the Bishop’s office? What if, when the Bishop felt the spirit prompt him to prioritize healing, he had listened and not only asked Shari to keep her recommend, but invited her to go immediately?

What if we stopped seeing these types of stories as exceptions or anomalies to be easily dismissed; if young men and women didn’t grow up to become the same leaders who value handbooks, conventions, and the words and ideas of aging men over their own spiritual promptings?

As I sat in the foyer on Sunday and heard strains of primary children singing/yelling “Follow the prophet!,” I cringed and thought, once again, of Shari Franke’s temple recommend. The LDS Church is so proud of its lay, unpaid, regular-guy leaders. They love to pronounce that the spirit can speak through any worthy man and that God continues to speak through prophets and apostles today. This is billed as innocent and pure, where nothing can go wrong with God at the helm, and obedience is safety.

But the reality is that God has also given us the miracles of psychology, ministerial training, and critical thinking. The LDS Church has the means to train leaders in understanding abuse and trauma, in supporting members going through complex situations, and in seeking support beyond their capacity. There are far too many examples of people being further victimized and traumatized when they sought help from Church leaders who are not prepared to truly support them.

There’s also a huge number of untold stories because people are told that a priesthood leader’s word trumps their spiritual authority; they receive “counseling” from untrained, lay leaders; abusers are believed over victims because of status or their repentance process is prioritized over supporting victims; stories about problems aren’t discussed, so they are easily dismissed as outliers; It’s easier to trust in leaders and believe all is well, rather than face harsh realities of spiritual abuse and systemic harm.

The LDS Church must find a way to teach consent, spiritual autonomy, and personal boundaries alongside obedience and trust in authority. If we’re going to have children sing, “Follow the Prophet,” we need an “and.” No one wants to adjust a system to account for those who would abuse the vulnerable or take advantage of systemic weaknesses. No one wants to believe that those led by the spirit could allow abuse to happen under their watch. No one wants to because it forces us to face uncomfortable realities and adjust in ways that are often inconvenient, cumbersome, and even impersonal feeling. The LDS Church needs to do it anyway.

In her memoir, Shari Franke asserts, “My heavenly father knew the depths of my heart and the strength of my spirit. From now on, in Him alone will I place my trust. And no one else.” I don’t know the status of her beliefs, her church membership, or her temple recommend, and I don’t need to. But I am grateful to her for sharing painful, difficult stories publicly, even though her life has been far too public for far too long. Reading this quote, I hope she moves forward in peace and healing, where ever that takes her.