What Cherubim and a Flaming Sword Taught Me About Church Discipline

One part of the Genesis narrative that has always fascinated me is the moment when God places cherubim and a flaming sword at the entrance of the Garden of Eden after Adam and Eve are sent out (Genesis 3:24).

At first glance, it can feel harsh. Almost dramatic. God posts armed guards at the gate, blocking access to the tree of life. If we’re not careful, we read it through a modern, surface-level lens and assume it means: You messed up. You’re out. Don’t come back. Full stop.

And honestly, I think a lot of members carry that same assumption into how we view church discipline.

We subconsciously equate boundaries with rejection. Restrictions with punishment. Consequences with shame. So when someone is asked not to partake of the sacrament, or when membership councils are involved, we may assume that our church leader is angry, disappointed, or eager to exclude.

But the doctrine tells a very different story.

The scriptures (especially Book of Mormon commentary on the Fall) teach that if Adam and Eve had partaken of the tree of life after the Fall, they would have lived forever in a fallen, unprepared state. Immortal… but miserable. Eternal… but separated from God. The cherubim and the flaming sword weren’t there to keep them out forever. They were there to protect them until redemption was possible.

Wait a minute…
God restricted access not to punish, but to protect.

And once you see that, you can’t unsee it. Especially when it comes to church discipline.

In the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, discipline exists on a spectrum. Sometimes it’s as quiet as a personal decision not to take the sacrament for a season. Sometimes it involves formal restrictions or even withdrawal of membership. But at every point, the purpose is the same: to protect the souls who make — or break — sacred covenants.

The sacrament isn’t a social ritual or a participation trophy. It’s a renewal of baptismal covenants — promises made with full accountability. When someone isn’t in a place to honor those promises, stepping back isn’t a punishment. It’s mercy. Maybe it’s the Lord saying, “I don’t want to condemn you. I want to protect you.”

And yes, that principle extends all the way to withdrawal of membership, a concept that can feel deeply uncomfortable if we misunderstand it. But doctrinally, it fits the same Eden pattern. When someone cannot or will not live the covenants they have made, removing those covenants can actually be an act of protection. Covenants bring blessings when they’re honored. When they’re consistently broken, they bring greater accountability.

Here’s another uncomfortable truth: when people leave the Church, they often forget the most basic doctrines they once knew. Have you noticed that? That’s why it’s important to remember that God takes promises seriously because He takes us seriously. Without that framework, church discipline feels cruel instead of careful. Controlling instead of compassionate.

But God has always worked this way. He guards holy things. He places boundaries around power. He restricts access until hearts are ready, not because He’s withholding love, but because He’s preserving it.

The flaming sword wasn’t a “no forever.”
It was a “not yet.”

Church discipline works the same way. It is never about humiliation or exile. It is about protecting the individual, protecting the Church, and protecting the eternal purpose of covenants so they bless rather than condemn.

God doesn’t lock the gate because He doesn’t want us back.
He guards it because He does.