IVINS (UT)
Spectrum [Roseville CA]
March 15, 2025
By Brenna Taitano
When I hear mention of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS), my brain jumps to visions of The Book of Mormon, of patriarchal standards, and cults. I also cringe a little because Adventists are not immune to accusations of being patriarchal and, at times, exhibiting cultish behavior. But upon reading Shari Franke’s memoir The House of My Mother—which provides insight into the now defunct YouTube channel Eight Passengers and outlines the abuse she and her siblings suffered at the hands of her mother, Ruby Franke, and Ruby’s business partner, Jodi Hildebrandt—I was humbled by Shari’s relationship with God, despite any theological disagreements I hold with the LSD and its congregants. I am also reminded of just how easy it is to let our beliefs and quest for righteousness quiet that still, small voice, and of how much harm we, as humans, can inflict on others as a result. Shari’s story is not only an account of God’s work in her life and how she and her siblings escaped, but it is also a call to heed the Lord’s voice despite what is happening around you.
Shari, now in her early 20s, is engaged, happy, and at peace—finally. Her life, though, has been riddled with manipulation and both generational and religious trauma. In 2015, her mother Ruby began the mommy-vlog Eight Passengers that detailed life with her husband and six children, showcasing her parenting style and religious beliefs. Shari explains that LDS believe the highest calling a woman can attain is childbirth and raising children in the faith. In the chapter “Mommy Isn’t Nice to Me,” she describes the feelings of jealousy she harbored upon the birth of a younger sister. In response to Shari’s plea for affection Ruby told her, “when you have a baby, that’s when we can be friends!” At just six years old, Shari began to hope for a child of her own, if only to finally feel close to her mother.
Years later, after a decline in vlog viewers due to accusations of child abuse—including starving and beating her children—Ruby united with a family counselor, Jodi, who contributed to the abuse and manipulated the children for the sake of religious values, widening the gap between Shari and her mother. Meanwhile, Shari believed she had finally found the security and love she deeply longed for from a church member three times older than her. Sadly this person took advantage of her trust as he began to groom her, later sexually assaulted her, and then guilted her into having a romantic relationship with him (pg. 65).
Despite it all–the helplessness of an older sister, the twisting of her cherished beliefs, and the way her church ignored her reports of sexual assault–Shari chose the voice of God over others. She writes, “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” (page 165).
I admire Shari’s ability to discern God’s voice while living in a house built on a facade and selfishness. I also admire the strength it took for Shari to leave the congregation of her childhood and her mother’s house, and to publicly condone the beliefs held by those in her community who were in power. Throughout the book, it is clear that God gave her strength and clarity amidst a life filled with abuse from trusted adults and her church.
On page 163 of her memoir, Shari quotes Jesus’s words and writes:
“‘You should worship in spirit and in truth.’‘Truth’ was a word Jodi and Ruby wielded like a weapon. But this story reminded me that truth should always be connected to spirit, the essence of the divine. People thank God all the time, but do they live by God’s teachings? Their words might honor God, but do their actions align with the Bible? True truth isn’t just quoting scripture while behaving exactly the way you want to when you think no one is looking. That’s the opposite of truth.”
As humans, Christians are not immune to gossip or the thrill of an exposés. We should be, but we are not. The amount of times I have come across phrases like “Did you hear that” and “So-and-so should be embarrassed” throughout my life and, ashamedly, added to these conversations is astounding. We shake our heads and quote Luke 12:2,3, quick to ignore the reminder to “pay attention to the log in your own eye” of Matthew 7:3-5 (author paraphrased). Upon the 2024 sentencing of Ruby and Jodi and the release of this memoir, social media posts exclaimed, “Finally!”,“I KNEW something was off!”, and, “How you like it in prison, Mom???” For a now-defunct YouTube channel with a post that reads, “Family and mothers are the greatest force for good in our society today!” such comments are expected—even welcomed—because our sense of justice is strong.
Even so, once we obtain all the information and the guilty have been held accountable, do we continue to obsess over the matter? It would be a lie to say that the comments like the ones above always come from a place of advocacy and empathy. Humans often crave the perverse. We are intrigued by scandal and easily engrossed by stories of harm. Shari’s memoir is well received because, yes, her resilience is applaudable, and we care for her, but I can not help but wonder: where do the lines of gross interest and genuine hope intersect, and how long have the two been entwined?
Shari ends her memoir with the following:
“My focus is now turned toward the future[…]I know: I will break the cycle. I will trust the children. The child within me, and the children I will one day nurture. I will trust in their resilience, their wisdom, their limitless imagination, and their innate capacity for love. I will guide them, but I will also learn from them and allow their innocence and wonder to heal the wounded parts of my soul. Together, we will create a new story. Now that I have peace, this is my promise. Now that I have happiness, this is my purpose. Finally” (pg. 297).
It is my hope and prayer that we, too, turn towards the future, if not solely for our sakes, then for the Franke children—they have suffered enough without our fixation on the grotesque. May we put away our pride and learn from the shortcomings of others while “keeping our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith” (Hebrews 12:2 author paraphrased). May we heal from any traumas the enemy has inflicted and move forward by the gentle guidance of His “still, small voice” (1 Kings 19:12 NKJV), just like Shari.