Okay, hey everyone, welcome to today’s episode of Living Beyond the Shadow of Doubt. I’m Meagan Skidmore, your host, and today I’m so pleased to have Macarthur Krishna with us.
We’ve connected a few times. You make the rounds—speaking in person, on podcasts, book launches—so thank you for being here.
It’s a pleasure. Thanks for having me.
I love that you’re in your car—I’m in mine too. That’s the joy of our connected world.
So give us the Reader’s Digest version of who you are—background, faith, family, professional life, what makes you you.
I’ve written twenty‑plus books, mostly to create a world I’d like my three daughters to live in.
I grew up in rural West Virginia—blame my stubborn streak on “Mountaineers are always free.” I come from a large, loving family: five brothers and two sisters.
A therapist once introduced me as “Oh, she’s Christian!” I laughed—I had to correct that while acknowledging people have had rough experiences with Christianity, mine has been deeply good and a true gift.
My parents taught independence: they couldn’t prepare me for every life thing, only how to pray, learn, and trust God. From a young age I saw God converse and love me, which prepared me for unexpected paths.
That includes overseas.
Yes—I went to BYU twice, dated wonderful Latter‑day Saint men, but prayer led me on a different path—overseas, where the closest church was a plane ride away.
I tried the train—12, then 16, then 20 hours, missing meetings—so I flew once a month.
I cried in gratitude the first time I made it. A kind woman—teaching second block—welcomed my toddling child into her class with whiteboard markers so I could be fed spiritually.
I was in rural India; the nearest congregation was Delhi. A woman back in the States “assigned” herself as my visiting teacher. She sent Relief Society news and updates on people I loved. No one asked her to—she volunteered knowing I’d be ungrounded abroad.
I love that.
Incredible. I adore when people serve without waiting for a “calling”—that’s Christlike love in action.
Exactly. Relief Society sisters moved me, helped me move, knocked out 15 hours of work in three hours, laughing the whole time. It’s a delight.
Thank you for sharing that. I’ve reclaimed my spiritual sovereignty by connecting in those ways.
You’ve written extensively on the feminine divine. When did you first sense your beliefs weren’t fully serving you?
Age twelve: reading Carolyn Pearson’s My Turn on Earth and realizing we have both a Heavenly Father and Mother—that shifted everything. Mary Daly’s “When God is male, male is God” made me see how our world was structured around men: escalator steps, medical trials, bank accounts. Our theology says our Heavenly Parents walk side by side—that’s partnership, not hierarchy.
That’s our divine model, not the fallen world’s. Emma Smith was commanded to put off worldly things and preach—a role women didn’t have. That Scripture demands we reject worldly bias to step into God’s plan.
Someone feared Temple roles would hurt me—I replied I know my Heavenly Parents. I’m not second‑class. The Church now affirms women don’t need a husband to mediate to God—President Nelson encourages women to step to God with confidence. I want that model to sink into our souls; rejecting the world’s model feels like coming home.
When someone realizes their path has pivoted—slow change, resistance, “tolerance” out of obligation—how have you navigated that?
Adding a Heavenly Mother changes our relationship with Deity: from “subjects” of a king to members of a divine family. We’re siblings. I once othered a woman simply because she had more children—that shame is mine. Our divine family model says we’re meant to love all siblings, even when different. That reorientation is powerful.
Tell me more at the intersection of LGBTQ+ siblings.
In our Mother in Heaven study guide we invited Tom Christopherson, a gay man, to write about what Heavenly Mother means to him. I don’t presume to understand his lived reality, so I asked him to share. We easily other LGBTQ+ people by othering their faith or politics. If LGBTQ+ siblings knew they were swaddled and held by a familial God, it would be powerful. I can’t define eternity, but I know our Heavenly Parents love all of us; to be like them, we must learn to love all.
Words matter. Elohim is plural; Heavenly Parents include male and female. When I learned my child is transgender, it challenged my understanding. I believe transgender siblings teach us to integrate both the masculine and feminine divine. Difference is divine order: we’re all seeds of divinity, here purposefully. I’m hopeful we’ll one day celebrate all differences: LGBTQ+, neurodivergence, chromosomal, learning—all of it.
Why is recognising both energies important?
We’ve drawn sharp lines where none exist. I find toddlers delightful, babies boring; my husband feels the reverse. Labeling “nurturer” or “protector” by gender ignores the multitude of ways we care and defend. My marriage works because each of us brings different strengths in unique balance. That balance is creative and personal.
Strict gender roles harm everyone. I appreciate a world letting my husband be a tender nurturer. Women empowered to work relieve pressure on men as sole providers. Our Relief Society President ran her own law firm—no one questioned her as a woman of God. Other women wonder if their choices are acceptable. We must turn to God, ask for revelation, and live by it.
We shouldn’t be surprised when God’s answer differs from expectations—there are billions of paths. I know women who were told to pursue music, to pause career and have a child, to sell their house, to go to medical school. God’s instructions are as myriad as our lives. Quit assuming one answer fits all.
You’ve reimagined your podcast around joy beyond doubt. What joys have you found stepping into the unknown?
I love C. S. Lewis’s cottage‑into‑castle analogy: we expect small repairs but receive a grand castle. Turning our lives to God brings expansiveness, unexpected abundance, fullness of joy. My life went none of the ways I thought, but learning to become a full being—caring for others, using talents—has built a robust castle from tiny fixes.
That abundance comes through God. A life turned over to Him has given me unexpected abundance. In it are moments of grief for roads not taken, but an overall thriving life—dynamic peace.
Finally, what does “living beyond the shadow of doubt” mean to you—and what is spiritual sovereignty?
Spiritual sovereignty is perhaps the most vital life skill: it’s practiced and grown, not checked off. A spiritually sovereign person knows they can turn to God, receive personal revelation, and live by it, no matter what. That’s not independence from God but partnership with His sovereignty. It demands tackling uncomfortable challenges.
A friend noted, “God tests how uncomfortable I’m willing to get.” We believe agency is so crucial we allow terrible things so we can grow. Exercising that agency means learning to follow God’s guidance—even when it contradicts comfort.
A woman called to do healings is wrestling with church tradition; she must turn to God. Another dating outside her faith feels torn; she must be sovereign. A friend was called to a church role she felt wrong for her and politely declined five times. She dared to say, “My revelation is different.” That doesn’t negate service; it calls us to honor our own divine guidance.
We need more women leaning into spiritual sovereignty—owning revelations even if leaders differ. Parents receive guidance for children that may clash with institutions; faith teaches us to seek inspiration but not dismiss it when it’s uncomfortable. Growth is uncomfortable; following God’s path is distinct from being out of alignment. Becoming a finely tuned instrument lets us distinguish those feelings.
I can’t overstate it: to become like God, we must embody spiritual sovereignty—exercise our agency and grow in divine partnership. That’s pure bliss.
Quick picks
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Favorite book? The one I just finished (the Mother in Heaven study guide)
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Introvert/extrovert? A solid extrovert who also needs solo time
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Favorite artist? Carpenter‑artist Mongal Das (and many friends illustrating doctrine)
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Night owl or morning lark? Night owl
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Celebrity crush? My husband
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Still or sparkling water? Still—bubbly makes me nauseous
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Furthest place traveled? The farthest journey of my soul
Connect on Instagram @macarthurkrishna or at macarthurkrishna@gmail.com. Thank you for your time, insight, and wisdom—much appreciated.