Yes, I know nobody perfectly fits these stereotypes. 

Once upon a time Bill was a 7th-generation member who loved his Mormon community. His grandfather had been a [insert high Church or BYU or Utah business culture position]. For him Church participation wasn’t much of a sacrifice, but rather was a part of the waters he swam in, and participation was natural to him growing up. His life was more or less the same whether there were actual gold plates or not. He loved the fact that in his super stable, large Utah ward there was always somebody with a casserole to drop by when things were tough. He had had the benefit of a massive young men’s program growing up, was AP on his mission, and went to BYU, but he was eager to finally get out of Utah for graduate school. 

While there his mind was opened to new ways of thinking and new facts, and he felt an obligation to return to Utah to let them know about the knowledge of the outside world. By now he had transcended the truth claims of the Church, and was more interested in what they meant more high-level. He knew that many of the simple Utahns he had grown up with needed the myths, so he had no plans to disabuse them of those particulars, but he was excited by the prospect that all of the immense social and religious capital of the Church could be turned towards helping the poor, promoting social justice, and fighting against climate change. He was rather charming and good natured, and that plus his family name naturally led to him being tapped for local-level leadership positions. 

Meanwhile, his children took advantage of the uber-stability of the Utah environment, and he wanted them to go to BYU, but he wanted them to be edgy BYU, the kind of students who challenged the conservative environment. However, by the time they were older they showed no desire to attend BYU, go on missions, or do any of the things. Why would they do so simply out of a homage to their parents’ culture? They eventually left the Church and drifted and did their own thing. One of his children got married and had one child, but the others had little interest in marriage or children, and Bill and his wife started to slip into inactivity. The Church hadn’t really taken advantage of all of his insights and learning, and without his children coming to Church he didn’t really see the point. He gradually realized that, if he could do it all over again, he probably would have chosen a non-Latter-day Saint life; he certainly wouldn’t have spent two years in his prime on a mission.

At the same time there was a recent convert named Maria. She had recently moved to Utah for work and had had a rough upbringing. She had known some members in high school and noticed something different about them. While in Utah she ran into some missionaries on the street, noticed the same vibe, and accepted their invitations to attend Church. In fits and starts, she gradually accepted the gospel and was baptized, although she would be the first to admit that she didn’t understand everything, tithing was a huge deal, and that some things were weird; she gradually felt more and more of the spirit as she drew closer to the Church. Her ward was very welcoming, but she was confused when in a Sunday School class Bill, the resident member of Utah Mormon royalty, said things about early Church leaders that had some snark. She knew the leaders in question were imperfect, but it was an odd sentiment to feel in a Sunday school class.

Bill was part of a group in her ward whose interactions with the Church seemed to mostly revolve around the edgier aspects of the Church, or the things they thought the Church should do. However, she was blessed with a gold star ministering sister, and she eventually received her endowments. Hers was a simple faith, but that was enough to be able to discern who had the gospel in their life and never took the Church as an institution and the gospel and truth claims that underlay it for granted. And she lived happily ever after.