A Prophet Dies; Another Prepares to Lead - Introducing the Next Mormon Leader

Above: Former President Russell M. Nelson; Below: Expected President to be Dallin H. Oaks

Russell M. Nelson, the heart surgeon turned Mormon prophet, has died at 101. His expected successor, Dallin H. Oaks, once served as a state supreme court justice.

Written by - Sam Orlando

SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH — The world’s only church led by a living prophet awoke today without one. Russell M. Nelson, president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, has died at the age of 101, closing a chapter in which he guided the faith of 17 million members through sweeping reforms and global expansion.

Nelson had marked his 101st birthday only weeks ago, a milestone that underscored the extraordinary span of his life — from pioneering heart surgery in the 20th century to leading a worldwide faith into the 21st.

Nelson’s life was itself the stuff of legend. Long before he carried the prophetic mantle, he was a world-renowned heart surgeon, one of the pioneers of open-heart surgery who had literally held beating hearts in his hands. That arc — from the precision of the operating room to the authority of the pulpit — captured the imagination of Latter-day Saints and outsiders alike. It was as though his steady hands were prepared first to save lives, and then to shepherd souls.

From outside of the LDS Church, it’s hard not to be struck by the drama of this moment: a faith that believes God still calls prophets now preparing to follow a man who once sat on a state supreme court.

And that man is Dallin H. Oaks. If Nelson was the prophet-surgeon, Oaks would be the prophet-judge. A former president of Brigham Young University and a justice of the Utah Supreme Court, he is by long-standing tradition the heir apparent. His expected rise underscores something uniquely Mormon: in this faith, prophets are drawn not from monastic seminaries or cloistered hierarchies, but from the ranks of people who have already succeeded spectacularly in the world.

By long-standing tradition, the choice of the next prophet is not really a choice at all. Since the late nineteenth century, the LDS Church has followed an unbroken pattern: when the president dies, the longest-serving apostle becomes his successor. That rule of seniority makes the transition seamless and avoids the politics that divide other faiths. Oaks, ordained an apostle in 1984, is now the senior member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. By that precedent, he will be set apart as the church’s next prophet — a process members believe is divinely guided, but which also provides remarkable institutional stability.

A Legal Mind with a Spiritual Calling

Born in 1932, Oaks’ path seemed destined for law’s highest stages. After graduating from the University of Chicago Law School, he clerked for Chief Justice Earl Warren of the U.S. Supreme Court — a front-row seat to the era of Brown v. Board of Education and Miranda rights. He practiced at one of Chicago’s most powerful law firms, became a respected professor, and in 1971 was tapped to lead Brigham Young University through a period of rapid modernization.

Then came the black robe. In 1980, Oaks was appointed to the Utah Supreme Court, where he wrote influential opinions on parental rights, freedom of the press, and due process. Colleagues considered him a jurist of restraint, cautious but principled — the kind of legal mind who might one day ascend to the federal appellate courts, perhaps even the U.S. Supreme Court.

But in 1984, Oaks stunned the legal community. He resigned his seat to accept a calling as an LDS apostle. One day he was interpreting constitutions; the next, commandments. It was a pivot so improbable it seemed ripped from a novel — a judge turning prophet-in-waiting.

A Church That Learns to Bend

Over four decades as an apostle and counselor, Oaks has shaped the church’s posture on some of its hardest modern questions. He became a key voice in its “fairness for all” approach, backing legal protections for LGBTQ people in housing and employment while defending the right of religious institutions to hold to their doctrines. He stood beside Nelson in 2019 when the church reversed a controversial policy that had barred the children of same-sex couples from baptism.

His style is that of a judge even from the pulpit — incremental, precedent-bound, careful not to overturn doctrine but willing to refine policy. In conference talks, he has counseled members to uphold traditional teachings on marriage but also to “never persecute those who do not share our beliefs, including LGBTQ persons.” For some, this makes him the perfect steward for a global church walking a tightrope between conservatism and change.

Prophets of Professions

Nelson the surgeon, Oaks the judge: the juxtaposition is striking. In Catholicism, popes rise through ecclesiastical hierarchies. In many Protestant traditions, pastors spend their lives in seminaries or pulpits. But Mormon prophets often come from other worlds entirely. They are not monks; they are men who have lived in boardrooms, classrooms, courtrooms, and operating rooms before being asked to speak for heaven.

That contrast is part of what makes the LDS claim of a living prophet so magnetic, even beyond its membership. For believers, it affirms the idea that God calls ordinary — albeit extraordinary — professionals to extraordinary spiritual roles. For outsiders, it makes the leadership of the church feel startlingly modern: prophets with résumés that would impress any secular elite.

Relevance at a Cost

For the LDS Church, staying relevant has never been optional. A religion that claims God still speaks cannot remain silent on the issues of the day. But that very claim carries risk: change too much, and critics say God looks arbitrary; change too little, and the faith drifts into irrelevance.

That paradox is the crucible in which Mormon prophets lead. Nelson, the surgeon-prophet, guided his church through delicate reforms while maintaining doctrinal stability. Oaks, the judge-prophet, now steps forward to balance precedent and revelation in equal measure.

Say what you will about Mormonism — and plenty do — but one thing is undeniable: it refuses to fade into the background. In a secular age, the faith is impossible to ignore and remains undeniably relevant.