Every August I remember our little miscarried son Gideon, who would have turned 26 years old this summer. It is a poignant time for me, and I occasionally sense his presence nearby. And this August, we have been immersed in the symbolism of the biblical story of Gideon’s army in our temple service here. Gideon, whom the Lord called to deliver Israel, was able to achieve miraculous victory even though his army kept getting drastically reduced. As his numbers went down from 32,000 to 300, the Israelites had to rely on divine power since mortal efforts were extremely inadequate. There was no way for them to boast of their own strength, because all they could do was trust in God and credit his help.

At the end of July, one of our four temple missionary couples finished their service and went home. They have no replacement coming until December. It is an extremely busy time at the Copenhagen temple with lots of tourists and visitors, and few local workers to help out on daily shifts due to summer vacation schedules. We were down to three missionary couples, and not sure how we would collectively manage the schedule and run the temple without their help.

Then, that same week, one of our other senior missionaries fell and needed an emergency hip replacement surgery. He is healing with his wife’s care, but has required some follow-up hospitalization and tests. We were temporarily down to two couples, with extra help from our temple presidency to fill in.

Additionally, we regularly do lots of laundry to help the baptistry and clothing areas run smoothly, and one of our two washers went out. Then the second one started having problems, along with the dryers. This created some serious challenges. The nearby patron housing, where some of our local workers stay overnight, had a broken elevator which meant older and mobility-impaired folks couldn’t stay there for their shifts. It felt like what else could go wrong? (Our apartment printer, for one thing, and then our dryer, the apartment building’s water, and elevator…)

I understand now a little more how Gideon and his remaining soldiers must have felt. They were stressed and overwhelmed and may have ended the day with a headache. Nevertheless, they trusted that God had a plan to magnify their efforts and deliver them.

And somehow, we have all managed to keep things running at the temple without too much obvious dysfunction. We have consolidated a few appointments (bringing a sealing couple into the endowment session when we don’t have anyone to be a witness there, for example). We are running up and down many staircases, from the baptistry desk to quickly serve at the veil and then back down for confirmations. Laundry is somehow done, and the machines did eventually get repaired.

Our dedicated temple presidency has truly been remarkable. Sometimes they are running the temple with only a half-dozen workers. Matt and I and the other senior couple usually alternate each shift being the coordinators—the couple responsible for the assignments which vary depending on languages needed—or coming early for the recommend desk and then staffing the baptistry. We serve seven shifts a week, twenty-eight a month, close to forty hours a week. Prior to this shortage, the four couples rotated so we each got one Wednesday night and one Thursday morning shift off each month, so twenty-six shifts monthly. Those minimal yet refreshing hours off are no longer. You think you’re giving your all until you’re asked to stretch even further, to give even more.

One answer to prayer is having a backup couple who has arrived to help us here for two months: Matt’s parents, who were temple workers in Utah. They will be local flex workers in the ward, under Matt’s brother Bishop Wells, helping on a modified temple schedule. What an unusual twist to have parents join us on our mission! We have been busy getting them settled, learning local transportation, finding what they need for their apartment, and showing them around. Now on the weekly temple schedule it lists Wells the Elder, and Wells the Younger.

Another blessing is that we’re more comfortable and confident with the demands, the people, and the languages. It’s not unusual for me to stand with Matt at the veil and help five or six patrons go through in that many languages: Danish, Norwegian, Swedish, German, Spanish (we can now manage those in limited and scripted capacity). That is one way in which I see the fulfillment of the reassurance to Alma that the Lord will make our burdens lighter (Mosiah 24:14).

When I think of the miracles of the loaves and fishes, I know Jesus likes to work with our small offerings to create mighty results. Patrons are coming to the temple without realizing how short-staffed we are. Some have traveled many hours to attend their local temple, and some are coming from abroad. They have beautiful experiences in the land of their ancestors, returning to their old mission territory, coming for the first time as new members, being sealed for eternity to their radiant spouse, and doing proxy work for their near and dear ones. The work continues!

Blessings of this month have also included the visit of our daughter Madeleine and her husband Andrew, and the outdoor explorations we’ve enjoyed with them, and other traveling friends we’ve connected with. Another has been taking advantage of the summer weather to see some amazing areas of our temple district on P-days. We’ve explored Jutland, where Matt’s paternal ancestors lived, and where the North Sea and Baltic Sea waters meet at the tip of Denmark. And then the mountains and fjords of Norway (ancestral land on his maternal side). I had forgotten what mountains were like! It’s been a sweet experience to see some of our temple friends at their home wards as we’ve attended church in Aarhus and Bergen wards. We love this land and its people, and our experiences here.

And we love you, and hope that the efforts you put forth will see miraculous results through divine help. God and angels are with you, and fighting battles for you. As in the story of Elisha: “And when the servant of the man of God was risen early, and gone forth, behold, an host compassed the city both with horses and chariots. And his servant said unto him, Alas, my master! how shall we do? And he answered, Fear not: for they that be with us are more than they that be with them. And Elisha prayed, and said, Lord, I pray thee, open his eyes, that he may see. And the Lord opened the eyes of the young man; and he saw: and, behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about Elisha” 2 Kings 6:16.

Praying that we may fear not and trust in the Lord’s deliverance and sustaining grace!

Love,

Søster and Ældste Wells

PS More August photos at this link

Hello from “danske sommer” (Danish summer), where there are seventeen different words for rain—as well as a variety of other weathers. And where hollyhocks accessorize the buildings, most of the locals are on vacation, and the town and temple are filled with tourists. Our hearts and schedule are full.

I’ve been thinking about how we are all connected together, like a braid. One of my favorite museum corners here explains how to replicate Danish bog mummy hairstyles. Prehistoric hair braiding was an intricate art! I also love a design in the carpet and chairs in the Copenhagen temple sealing room that looks like a Viking braid symbol going through the room. The idea that we are woven together in each others’ lives, and throughout eternity, is a powerful image to me. This monthly update will feature three strands of our recent braid of mission experience: locals, visitors, and ancestors.

Strand 1: Locals

The rhythm of our regular patrons and workers who cycle through their temple visits means that we know and welcome returning people that we love. One woman gave me a hug at the recommend desk and said, “It is so special to me that I am known here. This helps me feel like I will get to heaven and know a friendly face there too.”

Saints come from all over. One woman took a seven hour bus ride from Norway and arrived weary, climbing up the stairs with the aid of walking poles. A Danish octogenarian often rides her motorcycle here, arriving in full riding gear. Some parents tag-team kids on the front steps. Another family came all the way down from the Arctic Circle. Teenage boys from an hour away joined us in the baptistry on a holy Friday night. A woman travels three times a week from Sweden because the only place she finds relief from her aggravated tinnitus is in the celestial room. And some university students took an eleven hour bus ride down from northern Sweden and came in with backpacks and luggage. The temple is their refuge after a long journey. As they leave, some will say, “tak for i dag”–thank you for the day! And then be back every day for every session the rest of the week. Others will say, “Thanks for the cozy time! It was hyggeligt.”

Alongside bonding with our fellow missionaries, and saying goodbye to one couple who left, we now have a radiant smiling friend from Iceland, a quiet older friend from Greenland, many friends in Denmark, a Norwegian family we’re particularly close with, and a couple from Sweden who are helping me with genealogical research since her mom grew up in my ancestor’s town. Somehow I didn’t expect to have such a complete Scandinavian experience, but it has been delightful to hear their stories and be awed and humbled by their discipleship. “Now, who is willing to consecrate themselves to the Lord today?” 1 Chronicles 29:5. “And in every work that [they] began in the service of the house of God…to seek [their] God, [they] did it with all [their] heart, and prospered” 2 Chronicles 31:21.

Strand 2: Visitors

July is Copenhagen’s busiest tourist month–although the locals leave town if they can, so while we have lots of visitors at the temple, we lack some of our regular workers. From busloads of American tourists, to an Italian cruise ship officer dashing to the temple while her ship is in dock for the day, to saints from Preston England and Freiberg Germany temple districts visiting us while their temples are closed for cleaning, the Copenhagen temple is bustling. It has also been our busiest month personally, including visits from our daughter Eliza and her husband Peter, my brother Ben’s family (their trip report here), my parents, my aunt and uncle Don and Christine Pearson, and several friends–Fullmers, Peads, Southwicks, Tops, and Kyle & JoEllen Wells, among others. Continuing our temple schedule while also being with beloved people at these newly beloved places has been a wonderful juggle. We often wonder if we would be seeing quite so many familiar faces if we were serving elsewhere in the world. We are grateful for it!

Favorite places we like to show off include Tivoli (Matt’s happy place) and colorful Nyhavn harbor (one of mine), the Church of our Lady with the Christus statue, the flag display in the Rådhus city hall, castles like Rosenborg (crown jewels) and Frederiksborg (gardens and Carl Bloch paintings), and the many museums. We love the rampart walk at the star-shaped Kastellet by the Little Mermaid statue, the relaxing vibe sitting by the lake at Ørstedsparken, seeing the shops on Strøget, Europe’s longest pedestrian street, and spotting the rainbow of houses at Gråbrødretorv square. But most of all, we’re thrilled to welcome people in white and share our special temple with them. It is our true happy place, the crown jewel of the city, full of Carl Bloch paintings, the real Christus, and joy. “The task is great, because this palatial structure is not for man but for the Lord God” 1 Chronicles 29:1.

Strand 3: Ancestors in 3 plaits

Learning more about our Scandinavian heritage has been an added bonus to our time here. We had three very special moments recently. One was taking my parents out to see our Sørensen ancestral home in Fjenneslev, which is still standing by the village church, and the Vemmelev church and Trelleborg Viking fortress that our Mary Jacobsen knew well —she liked to proclaim “Ve is Wikings!”

A second insight was understanding an aspect of my Danish heritage without previously being aware of its origin. For five generations in our family, going back to my Danish great-grandmother and forward to my daughter, we have had the tradition of writing song parodies to celebrate special occasions (birthdays, reunion, anniversaries). I thought everyone did this, until I married in to a family who didn’t. But now we’ve learned how important communal singing is to the Danes, and how they compose songs in honor of big occasions, particularly round birthdays (the ones that end in zero). Matt’s mom turned 80 this week, and so in honor of her round birthday celebration that we were sad to miss in Utah, we sent along lyrics that the Wells family enjoyed singing together.

The final highlight was discovering that my great-great-grandfather Isaac Sørensen was a missionary companion with the great-grandfather of another senior sister serving in the temple here! They even took a fantastic photo together—thank you, long-ago elders. We made the connection when she mentioned that her ancestor had served in Denmark, and I recognized his name because Isaac hadn’t kept a very detailed journal so I read through his companion’s journal to get more info about their shared experience. We attempted to re-create their photo, and both put the picture up in our temple lockers to remind us of their service and our guardian angels. “The people rejoiced … for they had given freely and wholeheartedly to the Lord” 1 Chronicles 29:9.

We are all braided in with these connections, friends and family, past and present, many cultures together into belonging, and the family of God. “We are foreigners and strangers in your sight, as were all our ancestors. Our days on earth are like a shadow…. Lord our God, all this abundance that we have provided for building you a temple for your Holy Name comes from your hand, and all of it belongs to you. I know, my God, that you test the heart and are pleased with integrity. All these things I have given willingly and with honest intent. And now I have seen with joy how willingly your people who are here have given to you” 1 Chronicles 29:15.

“Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with God’s people and also members of his household” Ephesians 2:19.

With love and blessings,

Søster and Ældste Wells

PS More photos in July photo album here

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven” (Ecclesiastes 3:1). We have been particularly aware of the turning of the seasons here with the midsummer solstice celebrations. There is a time for dark, and a time for light, and we have been part of that transition (blackout curtains and fans are getting us through bright hot June nights and Denmark’s hottest day on record).

Last Sunday we happened upon a Swedish church’s midsummer program, and followed their maypole procession to the fields where they sang and danced around it. They read from Psalm 104:2: “The Lord wraps himself in light as with a garment.” Their focus on that pole that looks like a cross reminded me of Christ on the cross, and anchoring ourselves to him in all seasons of our life and year.

The Danes celebrate midsummer a little differently from the Swedes, with a Sankthans (Saint John) bonfire. As John the Baptist was born 6 months before Jesus, his feast day matched up with pre-Christian solstice holidays, and these merged. But as John was preparatory to Christ, he brought light into the world preparing for the greater light.

A time to be born, and a time to die–and a time to be reborn

We’ve been gone for the birth of one niece’s baby, and the miscarriage of another niece’s cherished child, the marriage of a niece, and the death of Matt’s uncle. We have both mourned and rejoiced with family from afar. These milestones and earthly graduations turn our minds and hearts heavenward.

Here this month, it has been a joy to be part of others’ spiritual rebirths. The temple baptistry font had been closed for repairs and we were excited to welcome patrons back to use it. American visitors doing family baptisms are sometimes surprised that because the city classifies the font as a public pool, patrons are required to shower and wash their hair before and after entering the water.

We have experienced several special occasions there. One was with a Ukrainian fellow who recently joined the church. He came to do the baptism for his deceased grandpa. He had stayed up all night creating a family tree and translating Cyrillic characters to print the name card. He didn’t know what time things were scheduled, so he arrived a good couple of hours before the first baptistry session. He sat there in jeans and sneakers, patient, but troubled. He kept telling me, “I’m not clean enough to be here.” I assured him that he was. He stayed, mostly because he insisted, “I just want my grandpa to find peace.” Finally he had the opportunity to get baptized on behalf of his grandpa. He came out smiling, and said, “I can tell this is the house of God and a spiritual place.”

Two weeks later, he was back again. This time, in dress clothes and with a smile. He was able to perform baptisms for others, and came out of the water just radiant with joy. I loved seeing that change in him, and the peace he was feeling. It truly can be life-cleansing to follow the example of Jesus and John the Baptist, and be reborn into a community of believers. The Danish word for covenant people is “pagtfolk” (pronounced like pact folk) which is a great reminder of who we are.

I like how Joseph Smith expressed it: “It may seem to some to be a very bold doctrine that we talk of–a power which records or binds on earth and binds in heaven… now, my dearly beloved brethren and sisters, let me assure you that these are principles in relation to the dead and the living that cannot be lightly passed over, as pertaining to our salvation. For their salvation is necessary and essential to our salvation, as Paul says, in 1 Corinthians 15:29… else what shall they do which are baptized for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? Why are they then baptized for the dead?” (D&C 128:9, 15-16). Those are such “glad tidings for the living and the dead” (D&C 128:19).

A time to serve, and a time to explore

The temple service schedule varies by day, but we are in a settled routine with it now. The four missionary couples rotate responsibilities each fourth shift between being the couple serving at the recommend desk, the baptistry, the shift coordinators, and temple servants in other various capacities.

We always start with a prep meeting (in Danish) for all the temple servants and presidency, for which we arrive 30 minutes in advance of any scheduled ordinances. As coordinators it’s another 30 minutes before that, and the recommend desk position is an hour prior. Until the local temple servants arrive at the prep meeting, and the patrons show up (or don’t) at the temple, we are just guessing from online appointments what number of people and languages we’ll be serving with that day.

This week, for instance, we have the Icelandic saints coming for their semi-annual pilgrimage. With the summer tourist season in full swing, there are usually some Americans to help as well. Three languages in a session is standard, sometimes it’s five. That’s a lot of coordination for headsets and translation at the veil. Sometimes Matt is asked to officiate at a Swedish session five minutes before it starts, or I’m needed as a proxy in the font with no notice. It’s usually all hands on deck, from starting a load of wet towels in the laundry to scanning ordinance cards, and it’s never predictable. Matt jokes that I’m going to be so much more chill after this.

We’ve assisted with musical numbers at church, with young missionaries, and with family history. We also have helped with several weddings and sealings in the temple, and had the unusual experience of being witnesses at a wedding at Rosenberg castle. A Utah guy had reached out to Matt’s brother Bishop Wells to see if he knew anyone who could act as a witness as he wed his Iranian bride (she lives in Germany, so Denmark has more flexible regulations for cross-border weddings). They met on the Mutual app, and it was such a delight to see them start their new journey together, and capture that as witnesses/family Zoom call coordinators/photographer.

It feels like a good part of our mission is actually sharing the idea of going on a mission with other couples. We are also dealing with normal everyday life–in the grocery store cleaning aisle trying in vain with google translate to find a good drain cleaner, waiting for buses, bandaging blisters, and calculating time zones to talk to our kids at home. It’s a lot more sorting trash and ironing white shirts, and a lot less yard work and housecleaning. And a lot less time with things of the world, and a lot more time with the things of eternity.

Our moments getting better acquainted with Danish lands and peoples, and seeing visitors from home, are certainly times we embrace as well. This month we’ve had the privilege to join other senior missionaries at two dinners in members’ homes, struggle through Danish lessons with the young missionaries, spend time with a friend’s son here on a study abroad, with our friends Neylan McBaine and Eliot Smith who came to town, with Julie Allen, and with the Wardles (my former Young Women advisor), as well as my niece Søster Whitt in the temple, outings with the Top twins, a Relief Society activity in the botanical garden led by a singing entomologist, and fun occasions with Greg and Nan’s family.

We particularly love seeing roses bloom around doorways and in the gardens of Egeskov Castle, appreciate Skagen painters, and the large rune stones at Jelling. These are popularly known as Denmark’s birth certificate and baptismal certificate for the earliest written record of the word “Danmark” within its borders and the Danish nation’s conversion from Norse paganism to Christianity in 965 AD. We enjoyed encountering statues at Ribe of the Viking goddesses of destiny in Norse mythology known as the Norns, who weave together the threads of past, present, and future.

We hope you are embracing light, and love, family, and the Lord! “He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart.” (Ecclesiastes 3: 11, NIV)”

With love,

Søster & Ældste Wells

PS More June photos at this link

We had a family theme scripture years ago that I still love: “Wherefore, be not weary in well[s]-doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great” (D&C 64:33). This update will focus on 1. Being not weary in well-doing (how we’re coping in Denmark) 2. The great work of coming to Christ (our temple and church service plus shout out to Holger Danske) 3. Small things leading to great things (moments of joy).

The short summary is: it feels like we’ve lived many months in the past month, in so many good ways. Our time here has been stretching, and humbling, and full of growth. We are settling into our apartment, our routine, new friendships, bus and train routes, and bakery runs. There are many blessings amongst a few challenges.

1. Be not weary in well[s]-doing

Honestly, this has been a wearying month! Our schedule is pretty intense. The Danish word for temple workers is “temple servants,” which is a great concept. We are servants of the Lord, in his house, trying to learn the ways of the other Scandinavian servants here. We’ve also jumped into ward participation, making new friends, supporting a new convert at his baptism, speaking in Sacrament meeting, and playing the piano as needed. The linguistic needs at the temple are ever-changing but we are making some progress and being continually challenged in that direction. I’m sure this is very good for our aging brains.

The spring tulips at the temple were taken out this week, replaced with summer geraniums. I was sad to see the gorgeous blossoms leave, but their time was done. I feel like we’ve been replanted and are adjusting to this new season ourselves. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over missing bathroom countertops and a garbage disposal while we’re here, but at home in Sandy Matt could never come home from a morning run with a loaf of crusty bakery bread still so warm the butter melts as you spread it.

A son in law likes to ask us our favorite new Danish word each week. Recent nominees include “snart” (soon), “svampe” (mushroom–doesn’t svampe risotto sound tasty?), and both the words and flavors of “rabarber” (rhubarb) and “hyldeblomst” (elderflower). Another is “pinse”--Pentecost. The celebration of Pentecost is important here, and we attended a vespers service at the Church of Our Lady where we could follow all the Danish liturgical program, even if we didn’t know every word, which felt like progress. I did have a classic missionary moment learning that a vowel difference in pronouncing “ånd” or “and” means that you are blessing others with either the Lord’s spirit, or the Lord’s duck… May you find the gift of spirits and not just ducks in your life!

2. The great work: coming to Christ

One of the missionaries asked me by the Christus statue: how close do you have to stand to look into Jesus’ eyes? Turns out, you have to walk really close with intention, and bend down a little, and look up. During our temple hours, we are seeking to help others find Christ, through promises they make, through connections with the Lord’s spirit, and through focused time refining their souls. We are walking close with intention, bending down, and looking up.

Whether it is helping a new Ukrainian convert figure out how to do baptisms for his grandpa, or Matt being able to assist the Germans who come in with questions, or providing comfort to a grieving woman, or helping American visitors with a forgotten recommend, or being awed by the efforts of a disabled elderly Norwegian woman who traveled seven hours by bus to attend the temple, we are grateful to be able to support others in their soul journeys.

There is a statue in the underground tunnels of Kronborg Slot (the Hamlet castle at Helsingor) of Holger Danske. This legendary Danish hero (like a King Arthur of times long past) is held up as the protector of the land. It is said that when Denmark is in trouble, Holger Danske will awaken to action and return. A resistance group during World War 2 named themselves the Holger Danske, as well as a popular moving company, as the name symbolizes strength. That struck me as a Christ symbol, that we are waiting for his return—but until then, we are taking on his name and trying to do his work of helping others.

3. Small things leading to great things: moments of joy

We’ve encountered beautiful people, places, and things in Denmark. After spending so much time thinking about creation in the temple, we have loved seeing gorgeous creation in real life here: a darling baby elephant at the zoo, swans on the lake, rhododendrons, lilacs, wisteria, and hortensias (hydrangeas) in bloom, the stunning white cliffs of Møns Klint.

Our thoughtful children have been such a support, and we’ve particularly enjoyed some fun letters they sent with us to open at various random moments. Meeting up with friends and family have been highlights. Lately that has included breakfast with Marc & Brenda Child, a hug from Donna Tolley at just the right moment, being with our cousins’ kids (Søster Whitt serving a mission here, and Scott Staheli visiting), as well as more time with Greg & Nan’s family. We’ve spent time with other senior as well as young missionaries, and are excited to have our Utah friends the Whiteheads start their senior service here. Copenhagen is delightfully such a global destination hub.

We had a special experience walking in the footsteps of Matt’s great-grandfather (Victor Hegsted) who was born in Copenhagen, and learning new details of our ancestors’ lives here. Victor’s parents were mission presidents in Copenhagen in the 1860s, and we found the house they’d lived in, the church where their firstborn son was buried, and the early mission home of the later nineteenth century that Victor (as an adult) and my ancestor Isaac Sorensen stayed at as missionaries long ago.

We watched the current Danish king wave from the balcony on his birthday, and saw the tombs of a thousand years of Danish monarchs at Roskilde–very circle of life, and thought about efforts of faith throughout the ages, and lives lived. It is inspiring to see so many trying so hard to be better people: from early Danes spreading Christianity, to those spending years of their lives building churches and creating paintings and sculptures to honor God, to those today trying to improve their lives and follow Jesus just a little more each day. We’re grateful to be on this journey of wells-doing, along with you.

May the Lord bless you and keep you!

Søster & Ældste Wells

PS if you want to see more photos of our first month here, click on this link.

A quick summary: moving internationally has been very different from just traveling, but we are settling in– despite not having shared a one-bedroom apartment since the last century. The linguistic and schedule demands are intense, and humbling. We spend more than thirty hours a week serving in the temple across the street from our apartment. We are grateful for this opportunity, this place and people, and for the Lord’s blessings upon us.

If you’re interested in more details, read on…

Incomings (international adjustments)

We arrived in Copenhagen on May 5 and were welcomed by our wonderful temple president, Glen Helmstad and his wife, Cecilia, who happen to be from Sweden. Since we are assigned to serve under the temple president and not the mission president, we didn’t go to the Missionary Training Center in Provo but instead flew straight here. We stopped by the Danske mission office to pick up our missionary nametags but otherwise don’t have any regular contact with that side of things. We have met a few missionaries at church and at the temple, although have not yet had the chance to see my cousin’s daughter serving here, Sister Whitt.

We are living in a cute apartment across the street from the temple–100 steps door to door! It is owned and furnished by the church, and is fairly well equipped. We have a queen bed, a little dishwasher, and a balcony out the back overlooking some flowering trees. Our schedule started right up the next morning, and we’ve been so busy there was no time for jet lag. We had to register with the local government (like a DMV appointment) and learn how the trash/recycling process works: we now have six separate little trash cans for paper, plastic, metal, glass, food waste, and dirty plastic. We don’t have a car, but the bus/metro transit system is fantastic.

Seeing the temple out our window is incredible! I can’t imagine where we could ever live so close to one again. It is a historic brick building, originally a chapel from the 1930s and a bomb shelter during World War 2. When President Hinckley announced that the chapel would be transformed into a temple in the early 2000s, there was great rejoicing but also historical building considerations. Limited by the walls of the existing footprint, it’s compact. Inside, the temple has gorgeous spiral staircases that remind us of Copenhagen’s Rundtaarne (Round Tower) and celestial-themed windows like the Rundtaarne’s observatory. The dome of the celestial room reminds us of the nearby Marmorkirken (Marble Church), and the decorative motifs are very Scandinavian. The unique baptistry mural features notable Danes (from Holger Danske and Harald Bluetooth to Søren Kierkegaard to Carl Bloch and Bertel Thorvaldsen) along with religious figures and symbolism.

Outgoings (our schedule)

The Lord’s work is busy! We are spending more than thirty hours a week serving in the temple, and are there whenever it is open–and before and after, for meetings and clean up. The schedule varies, but essentially we are there on Tuesday evenings, Wednesday morning and evening, Thursday morning, then again afternoon and evening, Friday afternoon and evening, and Saturday morning and afternoon. Sunday we have church, and then are off until the temple opens again on Tuesday evening–so Monday is our preparation day.

Although we knew we had to learn some Danish for a language exam in six months to keep our residency, we hadn’t realized how critical and immediate that language need would be. We have been amazed and humbled at the challenge before us to provide temple ordinances for people from all over Scandinavia and Europe. We have already been using Danish daily, as well as Matt helping with German (which he speaks), and Swedish, Portuguese, and Ukrainian (which he doesn’t). Each session has never less than three languages going, and sometimes as many as seven.

The temple is consistently staffed by four full-time missionary couples and the local temple presidency. Then other temple workers come from all over Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Iceland, and northern Germany for a day or week at a time, sometimes as both workers and patrons, so every day is a new puzzle to determine who is working where, and in what language. It’s been a fascinating change to see a different system. At the Draper temple, I served with 50 women on my five-hour shift with pre-determined digital schedules, doing exactly what was planned every half hour. Here, our staffing numbers vary daily, scheduling with paper and pencil and lots of erasing, and running slips of paper around informing temple workers of their next assignment. And somehow, it mostly works out. Many miracles and moving experiences already, including assisting several patrons to receive their own endowment. We are so impressed by these faithful saints who make such sacrifices to be here.

Perhaps one of my favorite parts is getting to talk to visiting American tourists about their ancestral reasons for traveling here, and our own mission process. So many have said that serving as senior missionaries is something they want to do.

Salutations (visits/visitors)

We are very fortunate that Matt’s brother, Greg, and his family lives only about 3 miles away (15 minutes by bike and ~20 minutes by bus/metro), and we’ve been able to see them quite a bit. Greg is the bishop of the ward we attend. His wife, Nancy, has been an exceptional host and local guide, helping us learn about online grocery delivery services, running us to Ikea, gifting us a hand-painted welcome mat, hosting a Mother’s Day feast, and more.

Our son Nathaniel and his wife Reilly had already scheduled a trip to visit their cousins, so what a joy to see them when we’d been here less than a week! Taking them around to some tourist spots was a nice city overview for us: colorful Nyhavn harbor, with the steps that the departing pioneers would have stood on, is special for me, and we love the nearby Church of our Lady, Rosenberg castle, cardamom buns from JUNO the bakery, and Tivoli’s black licorice ice cream. Of course, the best part was being with them in the temple and show them our new world there.

I also loved quick hellos with Stephanie Nelson, whose daughter ran the Copenhagen marathon, and Martha Thomas, visiting her daughter studying abroad, and an outing with our friend Julie Allen, who is here on a sabbatical, to a summer opera festival concert at a nearby castle.

A highlight of serving has been better understanding our own children and parents’ brave mission experiences (Madeleine went into Sister Training Leader mode with some great advice for us on adjusting to missionary life). What sacrifices and service and examples! We are so blessed to get this intense time together, and together in holy places. “Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” Psalm 23

Beautiful glimpses of Copenhagen:

We miss you all! Please let us know if you have any questions! May the Lord bless you and keep you—

Søster & Ældste Wells

Welcome to our monthly missionary emails! Matt and I are headed out tomorrow to serve for 12 months in the Copenhagen Denmark temple. A huge thanks for all the love and support. Thanks for showing up last week, and for all who brought plates of food, and gave us hugs, and prayed for our visa, and wished us well. It has sustained us through the challenges of leaving home and family.

Below I’ve attached the texts of our Sacrament Meeting talks this past Sunday, Anita’s first and Matt’s second in the order we spoke. But the true highlight was the musical number in between, the Scandinavian hymn God’s Gracious Love (our son Nathaniel and son in law Peter singing a duet accompanied by daughter in law Reilly on the cello):

ANITA’S FAREWELL TALK: HEAVENLY HYGGE

Good afternoon, sisters and brothers. What a glorious sight to see so many family and friends here! And welcome to those joining us on zoom. Thank you for worshiping together. I hope that you feel the love of the Lord this Sabbath day.

You may wonder, what are we doing up here giving missionary farewell talks? We aren’t the age of the usual junior or senior missionaries. Well, we actually opened our call on the day they lowered the age for the young sister missionaries, so we joke that they lowered the age for seniors, too.

For those here who aren’t members of our faith, a mission is a time set apart to leave your normal life and serve God. In the Old Testament, some sacrifices were required, and some were freewill offerings. This is a freewill offering. Yet in many ways, it is a sacrifice nonetheless. It has been a lot of work to put our life on pause! We recognized a lull in our family life. And we felt guided in this direction– to serve. And we were called to do so, and assigned to the Copenhagen Denmark temple. Senior missionaries have a lot of different options for how they will spend their time, based on their abilities and skills and interests. Having worked in the temple here in Draper, we have a good sense of what our responsibilities will be there. The temple is a place to make promises with the Lord, to learn more about God and to become a holy people. The temple is a place of relationship, and ritual, both for ourselves and our deceased ancestors. We will be in both set apart time and set apart space, consecrating our lives more fully to the Lord. And we feel very humbled to offer our lives in this sacrifice. We are far from perfect, but I recognize that God has always had to work with very human and flawed servants. As Elder Kearon just said in general conference: “He needs you, and He needs me. Life is better—everything is better—when we are about His business.”

In the scriptures we often see the Lord asking people to leave their homelands–to begin a new journey towards Him. This call has been a blessing, and also a challenge to learn to speak Danish! Matt and I each have a Danish great-grandparent, and three pioneer ancestors who returned to serve missions in Denmark. About a dozen years ago, we were visiting their homeland there, and I was excited to take photos of the Lutheran church where one ancestor was baptized as a baby. In what was perhaps my only ancestral reprimand, I had a sharp feeling come to mind. It was as if he was saying–I spent years of my life preaching against this state-sponsored religion. All I wanted to do was come to Salt Lake City and worship freely with the saints at the temple. Why did you leave Utah to come see this?

Why are we now leaving Salt Lake City to go back? This picture hangs in our home. It is a different Danish ancestors’ farmland and village church, and the lines from a Scandinavian hymn1 that say: “your sun, your heaven, your fields of green.” The last lines of that hymn say, “I want to live, I want to die in the North.” But these Sorensens were willing to leave all of that behind, because the gospel was more important. They left farms with ocean views and Viking ruins and prosperous circumstances to live in a small cabin in Utah where they didn’t speak the language. I think of that often now–as we prepare to leave our comfortable home to live in a one bedroom apartment with Ikea furniture. where we will struggle to speak the language.

It is very full circle–one eternal round. Leaving home, going home–yet all places are just temporary homes en route to our heavenly home. Working in the Draper temple the past couple of years, I have seen how the house of the Lord can truly become the home of the Lord. There’s a line in one of the new hymns2 that says, “O may Thy house be mine abode And all my work be praise! There would I find a settled rest While others go and come—No more a stranger, nor a guest, But like a child at home.” That’s how I feel about the temple these days, that I am a child in my parents’ home where I see God’s love and mercy made manifest day after day.

There are phrases in the New Testament that really speak to me on this topic. We are agents for Jesus, as Corinthians says–”laborers together with God, helpers of your joy, and ambassadors for Christ in the ministry of reconciliation”3. The temple worker handbook promises that we will find in our lives as a result of our service a refining influence, greater power over the increasing influence of the adversary, added understanding to further purify discipleship, and the power to change. These promises extend to our families as well. I truly feel like my best self there.

We recently studied Jacob’s ladder–a dream he had in Bethel, which means the House of God. The idea of a ladder connecting heaven and earth, a conduit for spirits, is an image I love to see in connection with the temple. Imagine the heavenly conduits all over the earth, the grand junction of the two worlds, with spirits going back and forth. That’s been my experience in the temple. In the section of Exodus that we are studying for Come Follow Me this next week, the Israelites were given instructions on how to build the tabernacle and worship God. One interesting verse stands out to me in Exodus 38:8: “They made the bronze basin and its bronze stand from the mirrors of the women who served at the entrance to the tent of meeting.” That means the women gave up their mirrors to build the laver, or the font. Although we don’t give up our mirrors to build baptistries today, that is symbolic to me of choosing God over our own reflection, and our own priorities and valuables.

We don’t worship the building, but temples are a structure, a scaffolding, to bring us to Christ. At altars we covenant to keep Christ’s sacrifice, along with our own sacrifices, at the center of our relationship for eternity. It is his home that I am grateful to serve in.

We spent our first married years worshipping at the Washington DC temple. For those of you who haven’t been inside, there’s a long walkway bridge between the recommend desk and the rest of the building. A friend there shared that she and her husband always stop to read a particular verse from the Kirtland temple dedicatory prayer at that bridge. I try to remember this verse as I exit temples now. D&C 109:22 reads: “And we ask thee, Holy Father, that thy servants may go forth from this house armed with thy power, and that thy name may be upon them, and thy glory be round about them, and thine angels have charge over them.” I love the idea that angels are with us as we leave the temple.

One place I feel a strong connection to the divine is at the temple veil that leads to the celestial room. In Hebrews4 we read: “Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace.” Anciently, to reach the throne of God, the ark of the covenant, one had to pass through the veil of the temple. However, only one man, the high priest, was allowed to enter the Holy of Holies. And only once a year, on the Day of Atonement. But when Christ died, the veil of the temple was torn from top to bottom. The way was opened. Not just for one, but for all. Hebrews5 teaches that the veil represents Christ’s body. Through Him, we are invited into God’s presence. We come with our covenants and our faith, and Jesus, through His atoning sacrifice, advocates for us. The veil is the lens our Heavenly Parents see us through. In that sense, we are daily practicing eternal life.

Recently, I was helping a woman in a wheelchair approach the veil. It took more time than usual and required some complicated maneuvers. As I watched her struggle, but also enter the celestial room with joy, I thought we are all approaching the Lord with our own challenges and disabilities, some more visible than others, and our heavenly parents welcome us home. The handicapped woman at the veil is all of us. And everyone in that company is welcomed in and welcomed home.

As a parent of young adult kids who live far away, I am always grateful when I get to spend some time with them. It is a delight to welcome them home again. I know our Heavenly Parents also want to spend time with us, and want us to come home to them. In this way, the House of the Lord can become the home of the Lord as we visit often. There is a Scandinavian concept you’re probably familiar with called hygge. Especially in the dark winter months, the people there focus on creating a cozy, warm atmosphere that fosters contentment, togetherness, and well-being. It involves appreciating life’s simple pleasures—like candlelight, and good company—to reduce stress and enhance happiness. I like the idea that the temple can provide us with heavenly hygge. When the world seems dark and stressful, I love turning my phone off and avoiding its notifications for hours at a time. At the temple we can bask in being present. And in a divine presence. I love the light, the peace, the smiles, the joy. Heavenly hygge is always a good idea.

Every morning, the sun rises. We don’t even wonder if it will happen today or tomorrow, we know it will. This daily testimony of the resurrection is powerful to me. The Son of God rose to give us eternal life. We can count on that just like daily sunrise. As a faith we really put our money where our mouth is with our belief in the resurrection. We spend millions of hours and millions of dollars on temple work. President Hinckley put it more eloquently: “Temples stand as a witness of our conviction of immortality. They are living, working testimonies to our faith in the reality of the resurrection of our Lord, Jesus Christ.”

It is an impossible glorious project of making every human being in history known and sacred, and also being sanctified ourselves in the process. The temple stands at the center of God’s unfolding story. It is where heaven touches earth, where divine love takes form, and where humanity is invited home to the presence of God. From Eden to Solomon, from the wilderness tabernacle to the temple in Draper and Copenhagen, the message is the same: God desires to dwell with His people and fill their lives with His covenant love. The temple’s purpose, beautified by sacred architecture, is a testament that all creation can be holy ground. God’s goal has always been to dwell with His people, not apart from them. When we keep our covenants, our homes become sanctuaries. When we forgive, serve, love, and worship, we re-create temple space wherever we are.

I love the verse in 2 Nephi 22 6that says: “Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and not be afraid; for the Lord Jehovah is my strength and my song; he also has become my salvation. Therefore, with joy shall ye draw water out of the wells of salvation.” The wells of Jesus, the living water, can be found in the temple, where the house of the Lord truly becomes the home of the Lord. The power of God is manifest daily there. I hope you can see its blessings in your life, and find heavenly hygge.

I appreciate my kids doing this musical number, a Scandinavian hymn 7whose lyrics have been restorative to my soul. They say in part:

Day by day, Thy strength will bear me kindly Till I reach the promised land. –our eternal home.

Until we meet again, I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ amen.

7

https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/media/music/songs/gods-gracious-love?lang=eng

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MATT’S FAREWELL TALK

I’m so grateful for the music from my dear family and the spiritual insights from Anita. She inspires me daily and I love her scholarship and testimony. I’m also grateful to share my love of temples with you today—and my ongoing surprise to be departing for Denmark in eight days!

Sometimes, I’m not sure why I’m surprised since Anita and I have certainly been blessed with many role models of parents, grandparents and extended family members serving as temple ordinance workers. We similarly have many role models of senior missionaries, including my parents having served three missions overseas and Anita’s parents currently serving in London. We even know many midcareer professionals taking time to serve as mission leaders, including President Newitt and my first law firm boss and bishop in Palo Alto, Elder Mark Bonham, who is with us today and has been a great mentor and example to me for more than 25 years.

Still, just a few months ago, I never would have imagined taking a sabbatical from my law practice to serve a senior mission at 56 and, despite Anita’s temple service, my mental image of senior temple missionaries is of angelic retirees who seem more seasoned both in years and prior service than I feel. So, how did we get here?

Bishop Quilter told us that our decision to take this step at this age might encourage others to explore similar opportunities and there is a great need for senior missionaries around the world. It has certainly been true that many friends and co-workers, particularly other temple workers, have wanted more details about the process and our decision. I will also say that, although we won’t be proselyting, I have received particularly warm comments from clients and co-workers who are not of our faith, including a legal secretary at my firm (with whom I have practically no contact) taking the time to reach out to say:

“I’ve seen too many attorneys work way too much for way too long and ultimately regret not taking a little more time for themselves and their families along the way. Makes me happy to see someone be willing to take a break from legal work to do something personally meaningful.”

In the next 10 minutes, I’d like to briefly touch on two questions, (1) why this mission and (2) why now?

Anita mentioned we recognized a lull in our life and felt guided to serve. In addition to local possibilities listed on JustServe.org, googling “Senior Missionaries” led us to a super-helpful portal summarizing ways to serve, types of assignments, FAQs and a database of current needs under “search opportunities.”

The challenge for me was that, while I could imagine Anita being great in practically all areas, from “teach and fellowship” to “family history support” to “seminaries and institutes” and seriously everything (although I’m not sure she shares the dream of one of her temple co-workers to be called to the Heber Valley Camp), I had a harder time seeing myself in any of those roles since, outside of my professional duties negotiating business deals for clients, my personality tends to be more of the quiet observer. Still, Anita reminded me of the scripture that says “For all have not every gift given unto them; for there are many gifts” and when I came across the listings for “serve in a temple,” I felt a peaceful assurance that welcoming God’s children to the House of the Lord and “helping them feel the sacred Spirit of the temple” was something I could do.

Very briefly for those unfamiliar with temples or wondering more specifically what we will be doing in Denmark, googling “What Temple Workers Do” suggested:

• Temple workers are volunteers who dedicate their time to assisting patrons, with roles including:

• Guiding participants through ordinances (which are sacred, formal acts or ceremonies performed by the authority of the priesthood) including baptisms for the dead, initiatory washings and anointings, the endowment, and sealing marriages and families for time and all eternity rather than “until death do you part.”

• Assisting patrons with directions, finding rooms, and handling clothing in the baptistry or temple clothing desk.

• Greeting patrons, assisting with special needs, and maintaining a reverent, peaceful environment.

There is just one temple in Denmark and, because the Stockholm Sweden temple is being reconstructed, the Copenhagen temple currently covers Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Iceland and Greenland and also receives many visitors from northern Germany, which will be fun for me since I served in Germany as a young missionary. We will live in a Church-provided apartment near the temple allowing us to serve in the temple five days a week (Tuesday through Saturday). We will be volunteers who will pay our own way, although housing costs are standardized and subsidized.

Why do I love temples?

Temples have been an important anchor from my earliest childhood and the fact that my current temple service is still accompanied by those childhood feelings of peace and love is certainly part of why I’m standing before you.

I have an image of myself as a young child studying a line painting on glass of the Provo Temple over a gold leaf background that my mother had made. In the reasoning of a child, I thought my mom must really love the temple to spend so much time honoring it in precious gold.

I was raised in Provo where my father was a professor at BYU. Every few months, my parents would pack their six little kids into the family station wagon and drive to St. George to spend time with my only living grandparent, whose father incidentally was born in Copenhagen. In addition to hiking to the old family dairy farm and hanging out with cousins, I remember many visits to, and stories about, the St. George Temple, where my dad was baptized and received his endowment.

When I was perhaps 12, our family was asked to sing Janice Kapp Perry’s new Primary Song, I Love to See the Temple, in sacrament meeting. In my young mind, this was a big responsibility to bear testimony of the temple in song and I felt the importance of singing the words very sincerely and earnestly. The second verse reads:

I love to see the temple.

I’ll go inside someday.

I’ll cov’nant with my Father;

I’ll promise to obey.

For the temple is a holy place

Where we are sealed together.

As a child of God, I’ve learned this truth:

A fam’ly is forever.

Much later, as a 25-year-old BYU student, part of my proposal to Anita included tying her engagement ring to a bookmark placed in a miniature children’s songbook at the page with that song, I Love to See the Temple. We married in the Salt Lake Temple (the day after we both graduated from BYU) and every return has deepened my love of temple work and of her.

Why serve now?

Returning to foundational experiences, less than a year after our temple marriage, I was diagnosed with cancer and ultimately underwent three rounds of chemotherapy. Anita was expecting our oldest daughter Eliza and we didn’t know if Anita would end up a widowed single mother before turning 23. In hindsight, although we had prayed long and hard about whether to get married after graduation or wait until after Anita served a mission (which she had fully saved for with babysitting money before entering BYU), I’ve often thought that her first mission was a service mission to help a cancer patient at home. It wasn’t the calling she expected but her service to that one poor soul very directly made this calling possible and that much sweeter. Gratefully, we both survived that early trial and learned several things that have shaped our marriage.

First, we learned that trials accompany the covenant path. Second, we learned that faith and love can buoy us up through hard times and bring us closer together. Third, we learned to take time to appreciate the small things, like the ability to breathe and walk, since life can be unpredictable and we might not have as much time for future plans as we hope. Although my chances of relapse after nearly thirty years in remission are statistically normal, the possibility of an early death is always with me, making it a little more urgent to seize the day. This mindset has spurred our decision to invest in travel and family time throughout my career instead of waiting for retirement and definitely contributed to our choice to embrace this opportunity to serve now.

Other contributing factors included, first, having a window with healthy parents and independent children (but no grandkids) and a flexible law firm—although we know another couple heading to Denmark to serve as member leader support missionaries despite ailing parents, an adult child with health challenges and missing their grandkids but willing to follow spiritual promptings to serve. Second, a promise in my patriarchal blessing that “you will have the privilege to work in the temple as an ordinance worker.” Third, the hope of overlapping with my brother and his family who are living in Copenhagen while he works for a Danish company. Finally, and quite candidly, my love for Anita, as she has dreamt of serving a full-time mission since young women’s and I love to see her happy.

Still, there was some uncertainty over whether we would receive this particular calling since the online posting said “Required experience includes past work as temple ordinance workers in their local temple,” which is experience I lacked. When we nevertheless decided to submit our papers, President Newitt further cautioned us that while seniors can express preferences for types of service, locations and length of service (we listed temple openings in Denmark, England and Germany for 12 months), the Lord may need us elsewhere. In fact, a week after submission, President Newitt reported that the mission department had called asking if we could serve for 18 months since they desperately needed office couples for 55 new missions—we said we had felt inspired about temple service for a year but would wait to see where we were called. When our call came and read “You are assigned to labor in the Copenhagen Denmark Temple for a period of 12 months,” we were stunned and deeply grateful.

It truly has been such a joy to witness and share in Anita’s excitement (and nervousness) at every step of this journey, reading Danish ancestor missionary journals, checking our percentages of Danish DNA and tearing up over the idea of greeting deceased Danish ancestors in Danish. I won’t pretend it hasn’t been stressful to pack up the house for my sister and her family to move in, for Anita to resign from her MWEG job, for me to transition my work clients to team members to cover during my unpaid sabbatical and for both of us to struggle to learn a little Danish—although we’re also assured that while Danes appreciate the effort, they immediately switch to English. But we’ve also seen many blessings, not least of which has been the humbling opportunity for me to train as an ordinance worker in the Draper Temple on Anita’s shift and to feel how much the Lord and his servants there deeply want everyone to feel that peace and love that I felt as a child and feel each time I enter His Holy House.

Apropos, for anyone who has been meaning to go the temple more often or even for the first time, I highly recommend you seize the day.

I really do love to see the temple and know it is a holy place. I’m so grateful for our Savior, for His atonement and for this opportunity to serve. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

One of my close friends has a daily “light routine”—morning and evening walks to adjust circadian rhythms, and a light therapy machine to help with seasonal depression. While I’m no physics expert, I know that light is a superpower. It heals; it is food energy for plants; it is fire; it exerts pressure causing asteroids to spin; it is both a particle and a wave. Light has vibrations, and radiance; it reveals, burns, cures, illuminates, wakes, feeds, cheers, clarifies, explains, warms, promises, gives color, is used for fiberoptics communication; there is ultraviolet light: photography, fluorescent dyes in biochemistry and forensics; light is used for air purification and sterilization, red and blue light treats skin conditions. It guides, welcomes, heralds dawn, its presence illuminates, it highlights, instructs, contrasts, details, memorializes in a flash, soothes, comforts, mesmerizes, celebrates, facilitates, sanctifies. I myself have benefited from light’s unusual modern miracles: jaundice therapy for two of my children, and my own laser eye surgery. Amazing.

Of course, then, light is associated with the divine. “That which is of God is light; and he that receiveth light, and continueth in God, receiveth more light; and that light groweth brighter and brighter until the perfect day” (D&C 50:24).

From the very beginning of the Bible, light is critical to life on earth. “Let there be light” is Deity’s first priority in Genesis. And then, in beautiful symmetry, the Bible concludes with the fulfillment that “the [heavenly] city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it: for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof” (Rev. 21:23). In the heavenly city, “there shall be no night there; and they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light: and they shall reign for ever and ever (Rev. 22:5). The Bible starts with God bringing light to the world, and ends with the eternal world lit only by heavenly power.

Both literal and symbolic light are particularly central in our understanding of Jesus Christ. A new star was the symbol of Christ’s birth, as well as a day and night with no darkness in the 3 Nephi account. Light is the perfect accompaniment for his arrival to earth. Christ also embodied light in the Old Testament and the Book of Mormon stories. The Lord led the Israelites by fire at night, and appeared to the brother of Jared after turning stones to light.

Isaiah and the Psalmist give us the profound poetic concept of Jesus being the Star Shepherd who guides heavenly lights as well as human lives:

”Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens: who created all these?

He who brings out the starry host one by one and calls forth each of them by name.

Because of his great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing” (Isaiah 40:26)

“He telleth the number of the stars; he calleth them all by their names” (Psalm 147:4)

Restoration scripture further explains that He is: “the light and the Redeemer of the world; the Spirit of truth, who came into the world, because the world was made by him, and in him was the life of men and the light of men” (D&C 93:9-10) and that “[Christ] is the light and the life of the world; yea, a light that is endless, that can never be darkened; yea, and also a life which is endless, that there can be no more death” (Mosiah 16:9).

During his mortal life, Jesus celebrated Hanukkah, the feast of dedication and festival of lights (John 10:22-39). While the holiday was not big in America until the twentieth century, I recently noticed a fun cosmic coincidence: Joseph Smith was born on the final night of Hanukkah (December 23, 1805) to a mother whose name (Lucy) means light. In a lovely connection with the Hanukkah miracle of enduring temple light, Joseph brought new light (and temple holiness) to the world.

When you enter a temple’s celestial room, the chandelier draws your eye heavenward with light. This echoes the presence of the standing 5’ tall menorah in the early Israelite temple, which may have symbolized the feminine tree of life, as well as Jesus himself. As the menorah light miraculously stayed lit longer than was physically possible for Hanukkah, so we too can be sustained one more day by the light of the Lord. Elder Bednar said, “In every season of our lives, in all of the circumstances we may encounter, and in each challenge we may face, Jesus Christ is the light that dispels fear, provides assurance and direction, and engenders enduring peace and joy. Many of our memorable and enduring Christmas traditions include different kinds of lights — lights on trees, lights in and on our homes, candles on our tables. May the beautiful lights of every holiday season remind us of Him who is the source of all light.”

What is your daily “light routine”? Let’s up the wattage so divine light can shine into the dark corners of our souls and on the problems of our world– to illuminate, to heal, to cleanse and purify. We can truly rejoice in this darkest season of the year, just as the Nephites did, awaiting that promised day and night of no darkness. I look forward to the “harvest of light” promised the righteous in Psalm 97:11. The hymns of this season remind us:

Light and life to all he brings

He will bring us goodness and light

Son of God, love’s pure light

Guide us to that perfect light.

Let’s light the world to honor the Light of the world, and let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

As a young child, I wondered what a “shalmeno” was. We sang about it often at church, and it clearly mattered to Jesus. This special shalmeno was what showed Jesus we loved him. What could it be? Later, when I could read the words, I was mildly disappointed to learn that it was just the line: “By this shall men know that ye are my disciples–if ye have love, one to another.”

But I continue to ponder, what is our “shalmeno”? How should we, as Christ’s disciples, show love to others?

In the New Testament, when a lawyer asks how to get to heaven, Jesus tells him to love God and his neighbor. The lawyer wants to know exactly: “But who is my neighbor?” Jesus’ famous answer through the parable of the Good Samaritan not only shows who the neighbor is (a man from a different religion and ethnicity), but who misses the mark. It is the priest and Levite who don’t help. In their focus on keeping a few commandments, they neglected the most important one. As 1 John tells us, “Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love” (1 John 4:8 NIV).

I received a similar lesson as a teenager. One day I was arguing with my younger brother (one of many days, I’m sure). My mom called me out on it, and said, “You read your scriptures every day, but clearly don’t understand them!” I’ve never forgotten that moment of clarity, realizing that learning about Jesus and becoming like Jesus were not the same tasks. Sometimes, I think about the New Testament story of Mary and Martha serving in different ways. I imagine Jesus putting his arm around me and saying, “Anita, Anita–[put in your name here]--you are righteously careful and worried about many things. But there is one more thing that is needful.” What is that one additional thing that is needful? That essential, good part, Jesus.

Paul’s famous chapter on charity explains this principle: “If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing” (1 Corinthians 13:1-3 NIV). We can expand on how this manifests in our own lives: If I do lots of genealogy, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I read my scriptures every day, and serve lots of missions, and study Come Follow Me, and attend every possible church meeting, but have not love, I am nothing… It’s like that story of two women who arrive in heaven, and are asked, “What do you know about Jesus?” The first lists off scriptures and theology with great detail. The second woman falls to her knees, crying, “O Lord my Redeemer!” It’s not theological knowledge, but love that is our “shalmeno.”

Jesus’ harshest words weren’t to sinners, but to those who used religion hypocritically: the Pharisees and scribes. He described them as whited sepulchres (whitewashed tombs) that were beautiful on the outside but full of rotting bones on the inside. The Pharisees were upset that mercy was offered outside the bounds they understood. But that’s the point of Jesus’ grace. He tells us that the merciful are blessed. Joseph Smith also said, “Our heavenly Father is more liberal in His views, and boundless in His mercies and blessings, than we are ready to believe or receive.” These mercies are ones we need, and ones we need to give to others.

Religion today is weaponized, politicized, and used hypocritically. That is taking God’s name in vain. But by their fruits, we are told we shall know them. When someone is invoking the Lord’s name or support, see if they are trying to be like Jesus, as the Primary song teaches: “Try to show kindness in all that you do. Be gentle and loving in deed and in thought.”

The scriptures are overflowing with instructions about showing the kind of love Christ has. Here are a few of my favorites. Paul’s letter continues: “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails…And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love” (1 Corinthians 13:1-13, NIV).

Moroni elaborates: “But charity is the pure love of Christ, and it endureth forever; and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day, it shall be well with him. Wherefore, my beloved [sisters], pray unto the Father with all the energy of heart, that ye may be filled with this love, which he hath bestowed upon all who are true followers of his Son, Jesus Christ; that ye may become the [daughters] of God; that when he shall appear we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is; that we may have this hope; that we may be purified even as he is pure” (Moroni 7:47-48).

“By this shall men know…”Is it by our scripture reading, temple work, or mission tags? By our tithing payments or temple recommends? By our excellently prepared lessons and meetings and councils? These have their vital places, but like Paul’s tinkling cymbals, ring hollow without love. The only way we show him he has our heart is by giving it to others with grace and love like his.

What is our “shalmeno” to Jesus? This is the daily, lifelong question—and quest—for us all.

Several women have communicated with me about how they struggle to worship with fellow Saints on opposite sides of the political spectrum. This is a delicate subject, especially for our nonpartisan MWEG organization, but now is not the only time in our church history that member polarization has been an issue.

A handful of many examples: When I think back to the first-generation Latter-day Saints coming from different countries and stations of life, I’m not sure how well my rough American ancestor enjoyed crossing the plains in company with my refined British ancestor, who didn’t know which end of the ox to harness. These families had been on opposite sides of war only decades before. I have pioneer ancestors who were soldiers in both the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812. How did they interact with the new British converts in Nauvoo? We’ve had twentieth-century wars where some LDS members enlisted in the military, and some were pacifists. I think particularly of the Nazi regime, which many German church members supported at the beginning. (My recent devotional shared healing tales from Europe– the Dutch Potato Project, and the Helsinki temple dedication bringing the Finns and the Russian Saints together.)

Recall the tense situation in the early New Testament church, all first-generation Christians. Peter had needed a heavenly vision in order to accept that the gospel would go beyond the tribe of Judah. He learned that “God is no respecter of persons, but in every nation he that feareth him, and worketh righteousness, is accepted with him” (Acts 10:34-35). That led to very mixed-background congregations. Many had been raised Jewish, and thus kept the Law of Moses. But Gentile converts saw no reason to be circumcised, keep kosher, or deal with ritual purification when Christ had fulfilled that law. The Saints were divided. As they integrated, Paul wrote to the Romans, encouraging the more mature Saints to understand how their unnecessarily rigid actions could impact those with newfound faith. “Let us not therefore judge one another any more, but judge this rather, that no man put a stumblingblock …in his brother’s way. I know, and am persuaded by the Lord Jesus, that there is nothing unclean of itself… for the kingdom of God is not meat and drink, but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost” (Romans 14:13-17). How well did that work? Epistles and schisms and councils and trouble for centuries.

I don’t have any easy solutions, but I recognize now the privilege and challenge of having grown up fairly oblivious: the biggest red/blue divide I knew of as a teen was who supported the BYU or U of U football teams. Tension has more often than not been present in our history–except for perhaps a few brief halcyon decades and select locations which many of us were raised in–so we grew up expecting a continuation of those ways. Thus part of the challenge is just our own expectations. That the Church, and our fellow Saints, should think and behave similarly to us is one thought, perhaps our dominant thought. A new thought could be: we all choose how to think (and vote) and behave. I am choosing how to follow Jesus, and how to interact with fellow Saints, and so are they. Our differences give us a wider perspective, and we can unite over shared values and activities: We believe in the Atonement of Jesus Christ. We hope for the plan of happiness to bring eternal joy. We are trying to be peacemakers. We want the young women to build testimonies at camp. We want this family history work to get done. We want to serve in the temple together.

Becoming one in Christ does not mean that we become identical in thought and action. The Lord created a natural world of great diversity. Variety is vital, as is evidenced by crop blights that strike one strain, such as the Irish potato famine. Monoculture sacrifices the adaptability to change and resilience to disease provided by genetic variety. Settling for or mandating one gospel monoculture is risky, and not how God works in creation. “The human body has many parts, but the many parts make up one whole body. So it is with the body of Christ. Some of us are Jews, some are Gentiles, some are slaves, and some are free. But we have all been baptized into one body by one Spirit, and we all share the same Spirit” (1 Corinthians 12:12 NLT). And as we live and serve in this mortal sphere, ideally we can turn towards the Savior and be one in our aim, and eventually with each other. As Elder Uchtdorf recently said: “in the Savior’s Church, we gather all of God’s children who are willing to be gathered and who seek the truth. It is not our physical appearance, our political views, our culture, or our ethnicity that brings us together. It is not our common background that unites us. It is our common objective, our love for God and love for our neighbor, our commitment to Jesus Christ and His restored gospel…The unity we seek is not to have everyone stand in the same place; it is to have everyone face in the same direction—toward Jesus Christ.” https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/general-conference/2025/04/27uchtdorf

Even as we can understand intellectually that diversity of thought/action can be a good thing, it can still be really hard to put into practice. Elder Renlund spoke powerfully to this in his 2021 talk, “Infuriating Unfairness.” He told of Bryan Stevenson’s encouragement (from the book Just Mercy) to become stonecatchers, like Jesus who did not stone the woman caught in adultery. Renlund said, “Sisters, not throwing stones is the first step in treating others with compassion. The second step is to try to catch stones thrown by others.” https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/general-conference/2021/04/25renlund

The Nephites at one point became stonecatchers, not many years after they’d been throwing them at Samuel the Lamanite. The Book of Mormon is a text of extreme polarization, yet there was a unique time of unity due to Christ’s visit. “And it came to pass that there was no contention in the land, because of the love of God which did dwell in the hearts of the people…and surely there could not be a happier people among all the people who had been created by the hand of God. There were no robbers, nor murderers, neither were there Lamanites, nor any manner of -ites; but they were in one, the children of Christ... And how blessed were they! For the Lord did bless them in all their doings” (4 Nephi 1:15-18). Ultimately, we too seek the love of God dwelling in our hearts to create this peaceful Zion, when war is no longer learned, and our military weapons are turned into agricultural tools like plowshares (Isaiah 2:4). I look forward to that promised day. And in the meantime, for those who are struggling to worship across the aisle, I offer the lyrics to this song I have on repeat:

The Plowshare Prayer

Dear blessed creator, dear mother, dear savior

Dear father, dear brother, dear holy other

Dear sibling, dear baby, dear patiently waiting

Dear sad & confused, dear stuck & abused

Dear end of your rope, dear worn out & broke

Dear go it alone, dear running from home

Dear righteously angry, forsaken by family

Dear jaded & quiet, dear tough & defiant

I pray that I'm heard

And I pray that this works

I pray if a prayer has been used as a sword

Against you & your heart

Against you & your word

I pray that this prayer is a plowshare of sorts

That it might break you open

It might help you grow

I pray that your body gets all that it needs

And if you don't want healing

I just pray for peace

I pray that your burden gets lighter each day

I pray the mean voice in your head goes away

I pray that you honor the grief as it comes

I pray you can feel all the life in your lungs

I pray that if you go all day being brave

That you can go home, go to bed

Feeling safe

I pray you're forgiven. I pray you forgive

I pray you set boundaries & openly live

I pray that you feel you are worth never leaving

I pray that you know I will always believe you

I pray that you're heard

And I pray that this works

Amen on behalf of the last & the least

On behalf of the anxious, depressed & unseen

Amen for the workers, the hungry, the houseless

Amen for the lonely & recently spouseless

Amen for the queers & their closeted peers

Amen for the bullied who hold in their tears

Amen for the mothers of little Black sons

Amen for the kids who grow up scared of guns

Amen for the addicts, ashamed & hungover

Amen for the calloused, the wisened, the sober

Amen for ones who want life to be over

Amen for the leaders who lose their composure

And amen for the parents who just lost their baby

Amen for chronically ill & disabled

Amen for the children down at the border

Amen for the victims of our law & order

I pray that you're heard

And I pray that this works

I pray if a prayer has been used as a sword

Against you & your heart

Against you & your word

I pray that this prayer is a plowshare of sorts

______________________________

Today, I want to share some stories that have prompted me to reflect on what it looks like to love and move in closer—inspired by the (much-needed) opportunities God keeps giving me to practice loving my neighbor.

The first story: my neighbor spends a lot of time cussing people out in his driveway. I’ve kept my distance. But recently, we had to exchange some mixed-up Amazon deliveries on our porches—in that moment, we had a normal conversation. The next month, we stopped to chat while we were both taking out our garbage cans, and I learned the name of his new granddaughter. Now we smile and wave as we get the mail. It’s progress.

My second story is similarly ordinary. An older woman started attending my summer water aerobics class. She has very little spatial awareness. I like to stay in the shady corner of the pool, and she often crowds me out. It’s silly, but I’ve felt some resentment towards her. Last time she did that, though, I imagined that behind those sunglasses was a person I loved: my aunt, or sister. That helped me give her grace. Then, as we exited the pool, I introduced myself and learned her name. Now we’re pool buddies who greet each other. She still makes it tricky to swim near her, but I either smile or choose to be in another place.

As minor as these examples might feel, this process of peacebuilding through “loving in closer” matters on community and global scales. The following stories come from the Church’s history in Europe.

After World War II, “Saints in the Netherlands faced the difficult challenge of rebuilding their lives. German occupation had damaged infrastructure, and food was scarce in some regions. Many branches of the Church were deeply divided, as some members had cooperated with German occupiers and others had resisted. In 1947 local Church leaders organized a welfare project to address food shortages and to restore goodwill among Church members.” (https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/.../nl-04-the-dutch...)

Can you imagine being asked to share your meager, hard-earned rations with a former enemy? “Initially, members were shocked…President Zappey visited the branches and urged them to remember that the German Saints were their brothers and sisters. Though many were reluctant at first, the Dutch Saints prepared the harvested potatoes for shipment to Germany…In 1948, as reconstruction continued in both countries, the Dutch Saints offered a second potato harvest to their German brothers and sisters and added a large shipment of pickled herring, a Dutch staple. These acts of kindness helped Saints in both the Netherlands and Germany to recover from the effects of war and to restore unity and trust among European Saints.” This effort required humility and sacrifice. It continues to move me today.

A final example is that of the 2006 dedication of the Helsinki, Finland temple that Elder Renlund spoke about in his 2021 talk, “The Peace of Christ Abolishes Enmity” (https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/.../2021/10/43renlund...). He explained how “even former enemies can become united in their discipleship of the Savior… At the time, the [Helsinki] temple district would encompass Finland, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Belarus, and Russia. At the dedication, I learned something surprising. The first day of general operation had been set aside for Russian members to perform temple ordinances. It is difficult to explain just how astonishing this was. Russia and Finland had fought many wars over the centuries…

“A year before the dedication of the Helsinki Temple, the temple committee, consisting exclusively of Finnish members, met to discuss plans for the dedication. During the meeting, someone observed that Russian Saints would be traveling several days to attend the dedication and might hope to receive their temple blessings before returning home. The committee chairman suggested that the Finns could wait a little longer, that Russians could be the first members to perform temple ordinances in the temple. All committee members agreed. Faithful Latter-day Saint Finns delayed their temple blessings to accommodate Russian Saints. The Area President …wrote: ‘I have never been prouder of the Finns than I was at this moment. Finland’s difficult history with its eastern neighbor … and their excitement of finally having [a temple] constructed on their own soil were put aside. Permitting the Russians to enter the temple first [was] a statement of love and sacrifice.'"

Elder Renlund’s stoic Finnish father was so moved by this experience, that “from that time until his death three years later, he never expressed another negative sentiment about Russia. Inspired by the example of his fellow Finns, my father chose to place his discipleship of Jesus Christ above all other considerations. The Finns were no less Finnish; the Russians were no less Russian; neither group abandoned their culture, history, or experiences to banish enmity. They did not need to. Instead, they chose to make their discipleship of Jesus Christ their primary consideration. If they can do it, so can we.”

As I’ve reflected on what these stories have in common, I’ve been struck by three themes.

First, moving in closer can take many different forms. While we can certainly love by bringing people into our lives and homes, becoming closer can be as basic as saying hi. The Finns loved the Russian Saints by simply making space.

Second, love is a gift. It can be hard to extend grace that we doubt will be reciprocated, but gifts are given freely. With this, I want to acknowledge that moving in closer is an act of strength that starts with having something to give. The Dutch had their potato harvest; the Finns had a nearby temple. While peacemaking often requires us to be uncomfortable, we do not have to move closer when that becomes unsafe. I can still choose to avoid my neighbor or swim in a different part of the pool as my floundering friend when necessary.

Finally, in order to love people—or perhaps as a result of loving them—we see them as people. My neighbor has a family; the woman in the pool is not that different from other women I love, who have their own weaknesses. In giving food, the Dutch transformed the Germans from enemies into human beings with bodies just like theirs that experienced hunger. The Finns were reminded that the Russians were also children of God, making enormous effort to experience temple blessings.

This, of course, is the great lesson that Christ offers through his example. Jesus regularly moved closer to others of different political, social, and economic demographics. He reminded those inclined to withhold their love that each person is our neighbor.

I want to close with a story from his ministry: traveling from Galilee to Judea, Jesus took an unusual route and stopped in Samaria at Jacob’s well. He broke societal and religious norms to talk to the woman there, and she recognized that, saying: “How is that thou, being a Jew, askest drink of me, which am a woman of Samaria? For the Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans” (John 4:9). He crossed both a physical and a social divide to have this conversation, which would be important not just to her personally, but to every believer since who has been inspired by their visit and the living water Jesus shared with her.

With this divine example, and the smaller mortal ones, I echo Elder Renlund’s encouragement–if they can do it, so can we. Let’s move in a little closer, and love a little harder this week.

image credit: https://www.istockphoto.com/.../jesus-talking-with...

Do you find it hard to concentrate these days? My pixelated attention is drawn in so many directions—I struggle to immerse myself in a book the way I used to, and I’ve even been known to have my phone open while watching a movie.

With that struggle on my mind, along with some personal ocular health issues, I have been pondering the phrase “an eye single to the glory of God.” It comes up frequently in the Doctrine & Covenants, and was originally used by Jesus in the New Testament (Matthew 6:22, Luke 11:34) and Book of Mormon (3 Nephi 13:22). The Greek meaning for “eye single” (ἁπλοῦς haploûs) adds depth: “simple, single in which there is nothing complicated or confused; without folds, whole; good, fulfilling its office, sound.” I love completing those sentences: when our eye is single to God’s glory, distractions fall away. Things are no longer complicated or confused. We are fulfilling our office. We are sound. The scriptures promise that we will be filled with light.

Another vision-related concept that helps me understand the idea of keeping my “eye single” is a sightline. An unobstructed view in a theater helps the audience; in a home, the sightline can emphasize the best features or create privacy. Keeping God in our sightline can help direct our actions: it’s a little easier to make that ministering visit happen or forgive that difficult family member. When we have heaven as our ultimate goal, all things are spiritual. Seeing life through a gospel lens is so beautifully expressed in D&C 6:36: “Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not.” (I used to help my seminary students remember that verse because its numbers are exponential: God’s power magnifies ours.)

As I’ve served in the temple recently, I’ve also been working hard to make my “ear single.” In the small space of the initiatory booth or at the veil, many voices sound simultaneously. We workers have to be constantly aware of hearing impairments, whispers, distracting chatter, and overly loud voices. I’ve learned that it isn’t just my eyes or ears, though, but my mind that has to concentrate. It’s easy to zone out during many hours of repetitive assistance, surrounded by repetitive language. I have to constantly remind my mind to focus, my ears to listen to the right source, to be single to the glory of God, to the procedures and ordinances, and to my fellow woman. Sister Tracy Browning eloquently summed up the challenge and promise of keeping our eye single to the glory of God when she said, “Friends, Jesus Christ is both the purpose of our focus and the intent of our destination. To help us to remain fixed and heading in the right direction, the Savior invites us to see our lives through Him in order to see more of Him in our lives.”

Jesus had such a good example of this focus from his own mother. Mary’s obedience to God’s plan for her was the perfect example for her own son to follow in his life. When she said “Be it unto me according to thy word” (Luke 1:38), her eye was single to God’s glory and plan. Jesus followed her example in submitting to his father’s will as he acquiesced: “nevertheless, not my will, but thine be done” (Luke 22:42). The book of Helaman offers us another example: Nephi’s will was so aligned that God promised him anything he asked: “It came to pass as he was thus pondering in his heart, behold, a voice came unto him saying: Blessed art thou, Nephi, for those things which thou hast done; for I have beheld how thou hast with unwearyingness declared the word, which I have given unto thee, unto this people. And thou hast not feared them, and hast not sought thine own life, but hast sought my will, and to keep my commandments. And now, because thou hast done this with such unwearyingness, behold, I will bless thee forever; and I will make thee mighty in word and in deed, in faith and in works; yea, even that all things shall be done unto thee according to thy word, for thou shalt not ask that which is contrary to my will. Behold, thou art Nephi, and I am God” (Helaman 10:3-6). Imagine knowing that your life was exactly according to God’s purposes, and that he knew you well enough to trust you in that way.

What Mary and Nephi remind me is that keeping our eye single to the glory of God doesn’t just require the kind of focus that’s increasingly difficult in noisy rooms and a world of pings and posts. It requires humility and love. We know from Moses that God’s glory—on which our eye should be focused—is the immortality and eternal life of humankind. This means that we have to direct our focus outward. I particularly love C.S. Lewis’ articulation of that eternal perspective in The Weight of Glory: “It may be possible for each to think too much of his own potential glory hereafter; it is hardly possible for him to think too often or too deeply about that of his neighbor. The load, or weight, or burden of my neighbor's glory should be laid daily on my back, a load so heavy that only humility can carry it, and the backs of the proud will be broken… It is in light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations -- these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit… Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses.”

As we focus on eternal perspectives, aligning our souls towards God and each other, may we find light in our eyes and to our whole being this week!

Once upon a time, I was a teenage redhead when Disney released its animated retelling of The Little Mermaid. Also eager to leave home and find my prince, the story resonated with me. I was Ariel, ready to leave the ocean I knew, and it helped that my three year old brother had the movie playing daily as the background to our family room soundtrack.

Watching the live-action remake of The Little Mermaid as an adult was a completely different experience. A teenage daughter rejects her family, leaves her home and culture, and chooses a new and very different way of living. When you have friends and relatives questioning their religious beliefs and choosing new ones, this storyline hits you hard. I left the theater in tears.

Perhaps like me, you have watched many repeat Disney movies over the years, and had your perspective change with time. As I celebrate my own thirtieth wedding anniversary this week, and my son’s upcoming wedding next month, these circle of life moments and ideas are also much on my mind. Happily ever after is different than we thought, for different characters, and in different ways. As Elder Uchtdorf so beautifully explained in his 2010 talk “Your Happily Ever After,” there must be trials and journeys in between “Once upon a time” and “happily ever after.”

Elder Boyd K. Packer also likened our mortal experience to the middle act of a longer play: “The plan of redemption, with its three divisions, might be likened to a grand three-act play. Act 1 is entitled ‘Premortal Life.’ The scriptures describe it as our first estate. Act 2, from birth to the time of resurrection, is the ‘Second Estate.’ And act 3 is called ‘Life After Death’ or ‘Eternal Life.’ In mortality, we are like actors who enter a theater just as the curtain goes up on the second act. We have missed act 1. The production has many plots and subplots that interweave, making it difficult to figure out who relates to whom and what relates to what, who are the heroes and who are the villains.

“It is further complicated because we are not just spectators; we are members of the cast, on stage, in the middle of it all! Here we find ourselves. In the middle of our play, we are the cast members. What is our script? We have options. We can lead this play where we want it to go. Our Father in Heaven has provided guidelines in the scriptures and prophets and leaders to provide counsel and direction. What are we choosing? What script do we choose? I have been blessed to have the Spirit whisper to me many times, 'He, Our Father in Heaven, writes a better Script than we do.'”

In God’s script, there are many symbols and poetic resonances. I find it particularly meaningful when I can hear echoes of the gospel story in unexpected places—like Disney movies.

Beauty and the Beast was my oldest daughter’s favorite Disney story, since Belle, like her, is a brunette who likes to read. Brainy princess for the win! Over the holidays, we took the family to see a local theatrical production of this story. Now, all of us adults were experiencing the story anew. This time, I saw religious symbolism I hadn’t noticed in all my years living with Belle dolls and Halloween costumes.

The enchantress who sets the story in motion– what seems to be the curse of the tale– is really putting everyone in a situation where they have to learn to love in order to become glorious again. The curse is actually the plan. Belle is a Christ figure: she alone can save this doomed assortment of characters in the castle. If she doesn’t choose to give up her life as she knew it and love a very unlovable creature, and if the Beast doesn’t choose to love her and accept her love, everyone will remain in their fallen state.

As the characters seek transformation, the rose is a powerful symbol of hope and redemption: when its blood- red petals fall, the timeline is set in motion. Without Belle’s help, the Beast will stay a natural man; Lumiere will gradually become a candlestick; Mrs. Potts will forever serve tea. Yet all they want is to become human again. The stage musical has the characters sing, “It is my prayer to be human again.” They detail all the ways they will live and love and work and relax, concluding with this chorus: “I'll be all that I was, On that glorious morn, When we're finally reborn, And we're all of us human again.”

I discovered the poem below around the same time I first watched The Little Mermaid. As the years pass, its message has become even more powerful:

The Tapestry Poem, by Corrie ten Boom

My life is but a weaving

Between my God and me.

I cannot choose the colors

He weaveth steadily.

Oft’ times He weaveth sorrow;

And I in foolish pride

Forget He sees the upper

And I the underside.

Not ’til the loom is silent

And the shuttles cease to fly

Will God unroll the canvas

And reveal the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful

In the weaver’s skillful hand

As the threads of gold and silver

In the pattern He has planned

He knows, He loves, He cares;

Nothing this truth can dim.

He gives the very best to those

Who leave the choice to Him.

In the Book of Mormon, Nephi describes his people settling into the promised land, writing, “we lived after the manner of happiness” (2 Nephi 5:27). This summary seems surprising given how fractured the siblings/now tribal enemies had already become. Yet it is evidence of a perspective shift that I can relate to. In my own marriage, we had to deal with a stolen car, miscarriages, cancer, and mental health issues–and that was just our first year! And here we are, three decades later, watching our next generation move forward, and I too could say that “we lived after the manner of happiness.” Knowing that there are many things still ahead, we are not yet at “happily ever after.” But I find comfort in God’s promised future, so beautifully expressed in Revelation 7:17: “For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.” Then we shall truly be human again forever, changed from our beastly natures through Christ’s blood into creatures of beauty—as we all live happily, heavenly, ever after.

Remember how the brother of Jared followed heavenly instructions to create his unusual boats? But he recognized a design flaw: how to provide the travelers with light. The Lord explained why the Jaredites couldn’t have windows or use fire, but instead asked the brother of Jared, “What will ye that I should prepare for you that ye may have light when ye are swallowed up in the depths of the sea?” (2:25).

It is intriguing to me that the Lord would provide detailed instructions for these barges, and yet allow a major element of their usage to be up to human ingenuity to solve. The brother of Jared did his best to come up with the answer. He didn’t just pick up some rocks nearby: he climbed a mountain of exceeding height, and “did molten out a rock sixteen small stones and they were white and clear, even as transparent glass” (Ether 3:1). I know nothing about making clear stones, but hiking a really tall mountain and needing chisels and refining fire for that process seems like it would be a lot of work.

Yet even the glass stones were not sufficient. Great effort produced them, but the brother of Jared knew he needed the transforming power of the Lord to turn them into light. He prayed: “And I know, O Lord, that thou hast all power, wherefore touch these stones with thy finger, and prepare them that they may shine forth in darkness… Behold O Lord we know that thou art able to show forth great power, which looks small unto the understanding of men” (Ether 3:4-5). Then, the Lord not only touched the stones one by one, the Light of the world creating light for the world, but he appeared to the brother of Jared in a transcendent experience.

While teaching early-morning seminary a few years ago, I had a powerful experience with exponential blessings, the idea that the Lord will magnify our small efforts into something extraordinary, that gave me a glimpse into that story. I had had a really lousy night and woke with a headache. It was a student’s birthday, so I had set the alarm extra early to make cinnamon rolls to celebrate. What was worse, seminary was even earlier than usual due to Daylight Savings that day. Even though I’m generally a decent cook, the rolls were a complete disaster. They wouldn’t rise, and were so dismal looking that I didn’t even bake them. I had nothing to take to class. I arrived at the church in darkness and tears—I had tried and failed. To compound the discouragement, the lesson that day was on 3 Nephi 11 and I felt like it should be an especially spiritual day teaching about Jesus visiting the Nephites, but I was not feeling like the lesson would succeed.

As I walked into the church building, the teacher of the other class popped her head into my room and said, “Hey, I baked an extra tray of cinnamon rolls for your class!” She offered me enormous, perfectly frosted cinnamon rolls. It was a glorious sight. My tears continued for a new reason. (This never happened before or after, that she shared treats with me.) It was like the Lord took my stones and touched them with his finger, or took my pathetic efforts and blessed them into something worthy—but I still had to press forward in darkness and sorrow until that blessing came at the perfect time. If I hadn’t tried, the gift would not have mattered as much. For me, this was a real life lesson on sanctification, the Atonement’s power, and the hand of the Lord in our daily lives. Miracles take someone else’s power and efforts beyond our own. This experience meant so much to me–yet it was just treats for sleepy teens. Think how much other efforts in our lives, that seem futile now, will someday prove beyond wonderful as we see the Lord’s sanctification of them.

Jesus multiplied efforts exponentially in other ways during his earthly ministry. All four Gospels record the story of the five loaves and two fishes miraculously feeding multitudes of thousands, with baskets left over. Yet someone had to make and bring those homemade loaves, and catch those two fish, and offer them to Jesus in order to create the miracle. They were hungry and yet still opted to share their meager amount with their neighbor. Like those humble offerings of food, Jesus also does this with our lives–taking poor unlearned fishermen and us to create a kingdom of saints.

I think of our personal and collective MWEG strivings in similar ways. We are small, but our efforts will be enlarged. Often we feel despair, driving in the darkness--like we got up early, did everything we could, and still ended up with just a mess. And we have so little power on our own, it can feel like things personally and globally are going terribly wrong, and we wonder how we're going to get light. Yet the message remains: it still matters that we put in the effort, and God is here for us and will magnify that effort in miraculous ways. I am constantly inspired by this scripture: “Therefore, that we should waste and wear out our lives in bringing to light all the hidden things of darkness, wherein we know them; and they are truly manifest from heaven—These should then be attended to with great earnestness. Let no man count them as small things; for there is much which lieth in futurity, pertaining to the saints, which depends upon these things.You know, [sisters], that a very large ship is benefited very much by a very small helm in the time of a storm, by being kept workways with the wind and the waves. Therefore, dearly beloved [sisters], let us cheerfully do all things that lie in our power; and then may we stand still, with the utmost assurance, to see the salvation of God, and for his arm to be revealed” (D&C 123: 13-17).

We are putting forward our stones, our loaves, our fishes, and our failed cinnamon rolls, and asking the Lord to shine his light and miraculous power on our mortal efforts. He will multiply that exponentially.

Whittaker pointed out that all of Christ’s ministry was done on foot, at about 3 miles per hour. Think about that–the Gospels took place at 3 mph, even when it was a journey of hundreds of miles to walk to Jerusalem for Passover. Some have calculated that Jesus likely walked more than three thousand miles in his lifetime!

During this most recent Conference, Presiding Bishop Budge highlighted a similar theme with a powerful verse in Isaiah: “For thus saith the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel; In returning and rest shall ye be saved; in quietness and in confidence shall be your strength” (30:15). He concluded his talk with this relevant counsel: “Paradoxically, helping God hasten His work of salvation and exaltation may require that we slow down. Being always in motion may be adding to the commotion in our lives and robbing us of the peace we seek.”

Since quarantine patterns of 2020, I’ve spent more time walking in my neighborhood, and walking allows me to notice things I miss just driving by in the car. I stop at the little free library and see if there are any new titles, or if anyone has taken my discarded book. I smell the honeysuckle, and cheer on the neighbor kids playing catch. I try to identify clouds and trees, and pick up a lost hat to place on a mailbox. Walking allowed Jesus to notice Zaccheus in the tree, and find the woman at the well. As we zoom past things in our modern life, perhaps we’re not traveling at God’s speed. After all, God waited eons for creation to advance, and centuries for the gospel to be restored. My patience for earthly problems to be solved and for prayers to be answered must seem childishly shortsighted.

The last few months I’ve served as a new ordinance worker in the Draper temple. Like Whittaker’s experiment on a shorter timetable, those afternoons are the longest I’ve gone without checking my phone in years (except overnight). I’m accustomed to making notes, checking calendars, being available to my family, responding immediately, sharing, communicating, and looking things up. You never have to wonder anymore, you can just Google it.

But from 1-6 pm on Tuesdays, I do just have to wonder–and remember, and even be occasionally bored. I look people in the eyes, and am present for each interaction. I notice the art on the walls, and the carpet and upholstery patterns, and everyone’s varied white shoes. I glimpse celestial moments and angelic whisperings. It is a wonderful opportunity to be a holder of stories, of experiences, of emotions. I’ve witnessed special reunions, and revelatory moments, and heavenly touches. Moving at God speed allows me to focus on individuals and moments in new ways. It gives me time with myself, with others, and with divinity. The world’s clamor quiets as I help an elderly sister find a bandaid, a bathroom, and her husband. Perhaps speeding up Conference and temple sessions isn’t really the point at all.

It has been years since I’ve worn a wristwatch. I found a white one to join me on this new journey (because being outside of normal time does not eliminate a very precisely coordinated temple schedule). Each week I pull it out of my temple bag, and I push the stopper in to start my “temple time.” At the end of my shift, I pull the stopper out to save the battery between weeks. It feels like a symbolic act to be starting and stopping my God time, living at God speed. When my focus is on mortal time, divinity is blurred. But when I can blur time in this way, heaven is more sharply in focus. I’m praying some of that tempo seeps into my being and spills into my everyday life and interactions.

Even while having the most important work to do, Jesus took time out to rest, to withdraw from crowds, to grieve, to pray, to find isolated locations for communion with his Father. He visited the temple, He went into the mountains alone. “So He Himself often withdrew into the wilderness and prayed” (Luke 5:16 NKJV). “And he said unto them, Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest a while: for there were many coming and going, and they had no leisure so much as to eat. And they departed into a desert place by ship privately” (Mark 6:31-32). He set boundaries, and set an example by doing this.

How do you recalibrate and find ways to live at God speed?

“Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow,

It shall be still in strictest measure even,

To that same lot however mean or high,

Toward which time leads me and the will of heaven;

All is, if I have grace to use it so,

As ever in my great task-master’s eye.

When I consider how my light is spent

Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,

And that one talent which is death to hide

Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present

My true account, lest he returning chide,

​“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”

I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies: ​“God doth not need

Either man’s work or his own gifts: who best

Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state

Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed

And post o’er land and ocean without rest:

They also serve who only stand and wait.”

—John Milton

Trying to make family history fun and relevant to others, I recently hosted a tea party with some relatives to honor a British pioneer ancestor’s birthday. Ellen Williams died a hundred years ago this month. We have a handful of photos of her, but she didn’t leave a journal or personal history. I don’t know if she was excited to exercise her newly-granted right to vote in 1920 a few years before she died. And I don’t know if Ellen thought much about her descendants, and what life would be like a century later.

However, being a family historian, I often think about being a good ancestor as well as a good descendant. It’s actually a lot easier to be a good descendant–you can research, honor, and care for historical memories. You can write and share and deal with their life legacies. Perhaps there is some therapy required for generational trauma, or hard decisions about what messy truths to carry forward. Yet for the most part, history is fixed. It is not all revealed, but there are limits to the available records and a finite amount of information to reckon with. 

Being a good ancestor is more complicated. There are immediate physical considerations: am I organizing my household and memories so that the important things will be passed down? Am I writing and sharing my life story in a meaningful way? Am I making choices that will benefit my descendants financially and relationally? There are emotional concerns: how will my behaviors and attitudes impact my descendants? Will they be proud of me or horrified at the choices I made? I think about this on a societal level as well as a personal one: as planetary concerns evolve, for example, will my descendants think that having a household pet, eating meat, using air conditioning, or driving a car were bad the way we now understand past racist attitudes to be? Posterity will be our future judge as well as our legacy.

It’s hard to know how this legacy will endure, and which stories will be perpetuated. Ellen had a lifetime of experiences and ideas I don’t know; instead, we tell one story about burning down the outhouse, because that was passed on by grandchildren. In only a century, most artifacts, stories, and memories are gone.

When I think about the challenge of preserving the relatively recent past, I’m impressed at how the Nephites cared about their descendants’ future. The Book of Mormon demonstrates the far-seeing consciousness of those recordkeepers: from Nephi knowing his writings had to be on metal plates to endure, to Enos covenanting with the Lord to preserve the records for future generations, to Mormon and Moroni and Ether compiling these works that no one in their lifetime would read. Nephi speaks to us directly: “You and I shall stand face to face before his bar; and ye shall know that I have been commanded of him to write these things” (2 Nephi 33:11). This transgenerational thinking is unusual—we don’t get that sense of scope and foresight in the Bible. It is inspiring to think of caring for unborn future generations so strongly that we pray for them, covenant for them, and leave records written directly to and for them.

Being a good ancestor, the way these ancient Nephites were, required acts of faith, hope, and charity. They had faith in record preservation throughout centuries, faith that their people’s story wouldn’t be erased forever from history. They had faith that a future recipient would be able to find, translate, and care about the message. It was an act of desperate hope. Mormon’s narrative and Moroni’s subsequent burial of his time capsule stone box are also acts of supreme charity—of love for a dying people, love for the enemies who destroyed them, and love for this future audience (us).

D&C 10:46-51 explains how the ancient Nephites also left a blessing upon this land in their prayers for far-distant time and people: “And, behold, all the remainder of this work does contain all those parts of my gospel which my holy prophets…desired in their prayers should come forth unto this people. And I said unto them, that it should be granted unto them according to their faith in their prayers; …Now, this is not all—their faith in their prayers was that this gospel should be made known also, if it were possible that other nations should possess this land; And thus they did leave a blessing upon this land in their prayers, that whosoever should believe in this gospel in this land might have eternal life; Yea, that it might be free unto all of whatsoever nation, kindred, tongue, or people they may be.”

This Nephite record speaks to our time, and the book of Helaman’s tumultuous governmental upheavals feel particularly relevant. In Elder Bednar’s recent General Conference address, he counseled, “Please remember that the Book of Mormon looks to the future and contains important principles, warnings and lessons intended for me and you in the circumstances and challenges of our present day.” Those golden plates were kept and preserved–guarded and saved–so that voices from the dust could again share warnings and testimony across time and space, to us. And they remind us of He who guards and saves us, even the great Keeper and Savior of mankind.

Like keeping records and organizing heirlooms, elections are important opportunities to shape the kind of ancestors we will become to the future world. I am fasting today, praying for a blessing upon this land. And I invite you to vote this week. May our choices now, and the legacies we leave, bless generations to come.

As a record of a Jewish remnant people, the Book of Mormon should contain Hebraisms and evidence of Old Testament religious practice. These elements are diluted by the later editing done by a Christian prophet post-fulfillment of the Law of Moses, and its English translation by an American farm boy. Nevertheless, scholars look for glimpses of this underlying religion in ways such as seeing the King Benjamin tent gathering as a possible Jewish Sukkot celebration, and Alma’s blessings on his three sons and retelling of his deliverance as a Passover event.1 Another powerful connection comes by examining the High Priest Alma’s speeches in Alma 5 and 7 as High Holy Days texts.

Alma (the Younger, hereafter just Alma) served as both the Nephite Chief Judge in charge of political affairs, and the church’s High Priest, when around 83 BC he decided to step down from his day job to focus on religious duties. With a renewed emphasis on his spiritual responsibilities to the people, at the beginning of the ninth year of the reign of the judges, he embarked on a tour to various regions under his stewardship, preaching powerfully to the people of Zarahemla in Alma 5, organizing the church there in Alma 6, and then preaching to the people in Gideon in Alma 7. Alma then returned home, and at the beginning of the tenth year, repeated this effort starting with a visit to Melek (Alma 8) and then a few days later, a more difficult visit to Ammonihah (Alma 9-14).

Often we read these chapters of Alma 5 and 7 and compare the audiences, and explain why they received such different prophetic speeches based on their righteousness. What if we considered the timing and purpose of these texts as well? The occasions and dates may have been the reason that Zarahelma and Gideon received different talks, not necessarily just the needs of the audience. Looking at the content and symbols of his speeches in conjunction with their delivery timing provides helpful insights.

Scriptural calendars

Signs and seasons in the heavens were the original appointed times for humans and divinity to connect. The Law of Moses, explained in the early books of the Old Testament, details the harvest and feast and sabbath festival requirements. Jews kept this law, Nephites kept it, Jesus kept it, Jews still keep it today—Jehovah gave this law, kept it, and fulfilled it to create a holy people. Spring is the ritual religious New Year at the temple, a time of resurrection, of Passover, of sacrifice. In the fall, each Jewish royal political New Year began with a series of sacred autumn holidays: Rosh Hashanah, literally “the head of the year,” called the Feast of Trumpets, then ten days later Yom Kippur (“Day of Atonement”), followed by Sukkot (“booths”). These temple gatherings are mandated in Leviticus 232. Autumnal rituals naturally deal with the harvest cycle in an agrarian community. At this occasion of the Feast of Trumpets, the  king was crowned or symbolically reinstated, and trumpets were a celebratory feature.

A preliminary issue is the Nephite calendar, and how correlated it was with the Jewish lunar cycles. Randall Spackman, in his article “Jewish/Nephite Lunar Calendar,”3 explained that the new world climate did not accord with the agricultural calendar and seasons Lehi’s family knew in Jerusalem. “While the scriptures provided an important tool for creating such a [religious] calendar, the spring and autumn harvest festivals of the land of Judah could not have been applicable to the agricultural seasons where the Nephites lived in tropical Mesoamerica.” As the Nephites modified their religious schedule to fit their new locale, they also adapted various ways of counting time: several Book of Mormon systems are documented (since Lehi left Jerusalem, the reign of the judges, and since the sign appeared of Christ’s birth). Spackman also noted that the phrase “commencement of the …year” appears 26 times… virtually all … in the books of Alma, Helaman, and 3 Nephi.” 

John Sorenson discovered that the Nephite calendar correlates with the seasonality of warfare, as well as Mesoamerican cultivation and harvest cycles. In “The Nephite Calendar in Mosiah, Alma, and Helaman,”4 he concluded that the ”beginning and ending of the Nephite year frequently falls around the time of major battles.” Thus wars were primarily fought in the eleventh through second months of the year, the dry months (November-February), with no fighting in months six through ten (the wet months). He posits the New Year occurring near the December solstice.

We do know that the Nephites kept the Law of Moses (2 Nephi 5:10, Alma 30:3), and elements such as firstfruits (mentioned by Lehi in 2 Nephi 2:9) give us clues that the biblical feasts were important. Since the Jews used different calendars for religious and political new years that were adapted in unknown ways by the Nephites, who also used various calendars, it is hard to know if and when Alma was keeping Jewish holidays correlated with the dates and times mentioned in the Book of Mormon account. However, as the High Priest, he took his responsibilities seriously, and these included calling his people to repentance in preparation for the Day of Atonement prefiguring Christ’s coming.

The connection at the beginning of the year with Alma’s journeys is given: “And thus in the commencement of the ninth year of the reign of the judges over the people of Nephi, Alma…confined himself wholly to the high priesthood of the holy order of God” (Alma 4:20, my emphasis). And the following year’s journey: “And it came to pass in the commencement of the tenth year of the reign of the judges over the people of Nephi that Alma departed from thence and took his journey over into the land of Melek… and he began to teach the people in the land of Melek according to the holy order of God, by which he had been called” (Alma 8:3-4, my emphasis). 

The mention of the commencement of the year often indicates a religious renewal in the Book of Mormon. Alma either started the trend or was following one that others would as well:

• Alma 45:20-22: “And now it came to pass in the commencement of the nineteenth year of the reign of the judges over the people of Nephi, that Helaman went forth among the people to declare the word unto them…to establish the church again in all the land” 

• Alma 63:1: “And it came to pass in the commencement of the thirty and sixth year of the reign of the judges… that Shiblon took possession of those sacred things which had been delivered unto Helaman by Alma.”

• 3 Nephi 6:17-20: “And thus, in the commencement of the thirtieth year… there began to be men inspired from heaven sent forth, standing among the people in all the land, preaching and testifying boldly of the sins and iniquities of the people, and testifying unto them concerning the redemption which the Lord would make for his people”

• 3 Nephi 7:23: “And Nephi did cry unto the people in the commencement of the thirty and third year, and did preach unto them repentance and remission of sins.”

Assuming that this commencement of the year coincided with religious holidays, Alma’s journeys and speeches are viewed powerfully through that lens.

Feast of Trumpets and Alma 5

The Feast of Trumpets, more commonly known now as Rosh Hashanah (that name is recent since 200 AD, not one that Jesus or the Nephites would have used), was a day of covenantal remembrance, a time when barrenness yielded to fruitfulness, a day looking forward to the future. It marks the beginning of the fall holiday sequence. The biblical command says: “In the seventh month, in the first day of the month, shall ye have a sabbath, a memorial of blowing of trumpets, an holy convocation. Ye shall do no servile work therein, but ye shall offer an offering made by fire unto the Lord” (Leviticus 23:24-25). Psalm 81 gives further directions: “Blow up the trumpet in the new moon, in the time appointed, on our solemn feast day” (v. 3). 

This conceptual “birthday of the world” celebration began the civil and political year, a potent connection with Alma’s commencement of the annual journeys. It is a day of divine remembrance, a reminder of divine mercy (especially celebrating the sabbatical year, when slaves were set free and the land allowed to rest). It was also a day for the ingathering of exiles, a promise of future redemption and millennial joy: “And it shall come to pass in that day, that the great trumpet shall be blown, and they shall come which were ready to perish in the land of Assyria, and the outcasts in the land of Egypt, and shall worship the Lord in the holy mount at Jerusalem” (Isaiah 27:13). New Testament imagery of the great and final trumpet being sounded for the resurrection and judgment day abounds (Matthew 24:30-31, 1 Corinthians 15:52, 1 Thessalonians 4:16-17, and the book of Revelation). 

As the final harvest is gathered for judgment, it is a time to awake and prepare. There is wedding symbolism with Israel joining her bridegroom, and for the royal coronation. Psalm 47 was read together (although discontinued when the Jerusalem temple was destroyed): “God is gone up with a shout, the Lord with the sound of a trumpet… God sitteth upon the throne of his holiness” (verses 5, 8). No bitterness is allowed, so sweet foods are traditionally eaten, such as apples dipped in honey. It is an opportunity for believers to repent in preparation for the Day of Atonement ten days later. In fact, they are guided to self-introspection through purity questions. Will they be sufficiently ready for the Day of Atonement? The Lord is reaping the harvest–are we wheat or tares? On this judgment day, one’s name is written in the book of life. It is a time of preparation to meet God, as one imagines God sitting on this throne reviewing the book of life. Moses said in conversation to God: “If thou wilt forgive their sin–and if not, blot me, I pray thee, out of thy book which thou hast written. And the Lord said unto Moses, Whosoever hath sinned against me, him will I blot out of my book” Exodus 32:32-33. Centuries later John saw that same concept in vision, a book in heaven detailed in Revelation 5.

What prophet (besides Angel Moroni) is connected to the book of life, and to trumpets? Alma! Alma perhaps had his own powerful conversion experience at this time of year, when his father the High Priest, and the Nephite community, fasted for his recovery. An angel spoke with a voice of thunder, which he himself hoped to echo lifelong, likening it to a trumpet: “O that I were an angel…that I might go forth and speak with the trump of God, with a voice to shake the earth… as with the voice of thunder” (Alma 29:1-2).

Assuming a Mesoamerican setting for Alma’s life, he did not have brass trumpets as we imagine in an orchestra or band today. The people of that time and place used conch shells as war implements to announce battle, so that is one possibility. The ancient Israelites used shofars made from rams’ horns. The symbolism of a ram’s horn connects this holiday with the test of Abraham, where Isaac was saved by the appearance of a ram and a heavenly voice. A father’s pleas, a voice from heaven, a son about to be sacrificed–these same elements put Alma’s story right in this symbolic Abrahamic context.5 Genesis 22, the story of Isaac’s binding, is read in Jewish synagogues at Rosh Hashanah, recalling the redemption and the covenant. Perhaps Alma’s retelling of his own deliverance in Alma 36 was at a similar holiday.6

With the Feast of Trumpets holiday symbolism in mind, take a fresh look at what Alma said to the people of Zarahemla in Alma 5. He introduced himself as the High Priest, indicating that this was a religious speech. He spoke to all: to “every one that dwelleth in the land; yea, to preach unto all, both old and young, both bond and free… the aged, and also the middle aged, and the rising generation” (v. 49). He spoke of garments being washed white, and purified, as the High Priest is dressed in white. He recalled the captivity and bondage of their people, and the Lord’s deliverance. He asked fifty introspective questions (a scriptural novelty). This personal spiritual inventory was to prepare the people “to stand before God to be judged according to the deeds which have been done in the mortal body” (5:15). He spoke of the bar of God (v.22) and imminent death (“if ye were called to die at this time” v. 27), speaking of the great division based on righteousness. Notably, for this holiday connection, he discussed the book of life and whose “names shall be blotted out… for the names of the righteous shall be written in the book of life” (5:57-58). Alma also spent many verses of this chapter talking about sheep, and good shepherds. The people would have gathered with their flocks ready for the burnt offering the feast required.7

Alma invited his Zarahemla audience to repent, and prepare for what was to come. The group established order and literally blotted some names out of the church “that their names were not numbered among those of the righteous (Alma 6:3).  The group then joined “in fasting and mighty prayer” (6:6) on behalf of others–as the Feast of Trumpets is followed by fasting for Yom Kippur. Afterwards, Alma departed to continue his journey to the land of Gideon. Scholars debate these city locations, but put them in the range of ten to thirty miles apart, a journey which could easily be done within the following week.

Day of Atonement and Alma 7

Ten days after the Feast of Trumpets comes the most holy of holy days, the Day of Atonement (Hebrew Yom Kippur). (The time between, known as the Days of Awe, is for repentance and personal transformation.) On this special occasion in biblical Israel, the High Priest dressed all in white entered the temple (before it was destroyed), and it was the only day of the year in which he entered the Holy of Holies inner sanctum. This holiday is mandated in Leviticus 16:34: “And this shall be an everlasting statute unto you, to make an atonement for the children of Israel for all their sins once a year” and further clarified in Leviticus 23:27: “On the tenth day of this seventh month there shall be a day of atonement: it shall be a holy convocation unto you; and ye shall afflict your souls, and offer an offering made by fire unto the Lord.” The term “Kippur” comes from the Hebrew caphar, to cover.8 At this time, a symbolic final divine verdict has been arrived at, as the groups of penitent righteous have their names written in the book of life, or the unrepentant wicked are cast out. Sacrifices were made on behalf of the group, and a scapegoat was sent into the wilderness for the sins of the people.

When Jesus fulfilled the Law of Moses, he played dual roles. Christ as the great High Priest was also the scapegoat: “he was numbered with the transgressors, and he bare the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors” (Isaiah 53:12). He entered the true Holy of Holies, heaven, as Hebrews explains: “But Christ being come an high priest of good things to come…neither by the blood of goats and calves, but by his own blood he entered in once into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption for us” (9:11-12).

The metaphor of bloodied garments symbolizing responsibility for the sins of the people is prevalent throughout the Book of Mormon. Beyond Alma’s usage in chapter 5 (verses 21, 22, 27), we see this imagery from the beginning to end of the book. Its visceral reality offends modern sensibilities: imagining the priests presiding over the butchering of the animal sacrifice, getting actual red blood stains on their white garments that are difficult to wash out, reminds us of Isaiah’s promise that is every laundress’ dream: “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool” (1:18).

Early Nephite priest Jacob said that he and his brother Joseph took “upon us the responsibility, answering the sins of the people upon our own heads… wherefore, by laboring with our might their blood might not come upon our garments; otherwise their blood would come upon our garments, and we would not be found spotless at the last day” (Jacob 1:19). Hundreds of years later, King Benjamin “caused that ye should assemble yourselves together that I might rid my garments of your blood, at this period of time when I am about to go down to my grave, that I might go down in peace” (Mosiah 2:27-28). And final author Moroni wrote, “And these things are written that we may rid our garments of the blood of our brethren, who have dwindled in unbelief” (Mormon 9:35, also Ether 12:38). Christ himself promises to arrive in red garments, showing that he has taken upon him the sins of the world (D&C 133:48).

Assuming that Alma had finished his Feast of Trumpets call to repentance in Zarahemla and arrived in Gideon to celebrate the Day of Atonement the following week, what does the High Priest preach on that holiest of days? Alma 7 is the answer. His prophecies about Christ here are a treasure. His blessings on the people profound. It is a gift of holiness to those who have repented, purified their lives, and chosen the Good Shepherd. This audience was beyond “the awful dilemma” of their brethren in Zarahemla. Alma did suggest that the people in Gideon were not in such a state of unbelief and pride as the others he just left (7:5-6), but that could also be in part due to their timely preparation for the holy day at hand. 

Alma offered a holy of holies of a speech, sharing insights about the mortal Messiah, giving us Christ’s mother’s name Mary, and his birthplace in verse 10. Fittingly for the Day of Atonement, Alma told of Christ’s sacrifice, and how he will be the scapegoat “that he might take upon him the sins of the people, that he might blot out their transgressions according to the power of his deliverance” (7:13). The Lamb will “cleanse from all unrighteousness” (v. 14). The covenant with this audience was renewed, they were baptized, and there was no “unholy temple” but instead a “holy order of God, after which ye have been received” (v, 21, 22). He concluded with a special apostolic benediction, suitable for an appropriately robed High Priest entering a holy temple–asking the Lord to bless this people “and keep your garments spotless, that ye may at last be brought to sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and the holy prophets who have been ever since the world began, having your garments spotless even as their garments are spotless, in the kingdom of heaven to go no more out” (7:22).

Further connections to explore

There are undoubtedly additional insights to be gained from studying more of Alma’s words in connection with biblical symbols, particularly when he spoke along with Amulek a few chapters later. Alma explained in Ammonihah about the “space granted unto man in which he might repent” (Alma 12:24), which probationary time sounds like the Days of Awe liminality between the Feast of Trumpets and the Day of Atonement, and then in Alma 13 he preached as the High Priest, about the high priesthood, at length. 

A blogger named “Rameumpton” posited that the anti-Christs, Sherem, Nehor, and Korihor, were scapegoats for the people, symbolically carrying all their sins, and sent to the wilderness to die.9

As for calendar connections, there are intriguing variations to consider. If we return to the biblical seventh month timing for the High Holy Days, in Alma 10:4 when Alma met Amulek, it was the fourth day of the seventh month when he had been fasting for several days. This is a similar timeframe to fasting for the Day of Atonement on the Levitical schedule. John Fowles and John Welch have also theorized that the battle in which the two thousand stripling warriors were saved with their leader, Helaman the High Priest, had a Feast of Trumpets connection, occurring on the seventh day of the fourth month (Alma 56:42). 10

We await further understanding about how the Nephite and Jewish holiday calendar synchronicities worked, but I rejoice in glimpses of Book of Mormon worship practices common to both groups of people. Alma’s heartfelt, poignant pleas to his people are more profound to me in their context as High Holy Day speeches. Perhaps the people of Zarahemla had more cause to repent, and the people of Gideon had more cause to be given holy instruction and blessings, which gives us such contrasting chapters in Alma 5 and 7. Yet if both Nephite audiences were preparing for and celebrating the Jewish High Holy Days with Alma, their High Priest, and looking forward to the arrival of the great High Priest, Christ, to come and fulfill that law, their understanding, words, and behavior are all the more significant.

Although Jesus chose good basic symbols from the world around to connect us with him, not all of those symbols resonate universally. Perhaps you are gluten free, and reading in the Word of Wisdom that grain is ordained as the staff of life, and being vigilant about the weekly Sacrament bread offering, is hard personally. Perhaps you are allergic to animal fur, so a painting of Jesus holding a sweet fluffy lamb makes you want to sneeze instead of smile. Perhaps you have a health condition that makes fasting impossible, or garment-wearing problematic. When I was doing the temple work for one of my ancestors who lived through the destructive Johnston Flood as a child, her name card kept getting misplaced and lost. I felt her literal hesitation to have me step into the baptismal font on her behalf: for her, water was not just life-sustaining, but life-threatening. It was a reassurance to both of us to open up the scriptures in the temple and read about the Lord calming the tempestuous seas.

How can we respond when gospel symbols leave us feeling disconnected, alone, or frustrated? We can remember that, while symbols bring us closer to Christ and help us remember him, but they are not themselves divine. We worship him—not bread, not the sun, not water, and not lambs. We don’t want to look beyond the mark. Even temples, his homes and our highest mortal destinations, are constructions of this world. As John records in his vision of heaven, “I saw no temple therein: for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it” (Revelation 21:22). 

I encourage you to ask what symbols point you, personally, to Christ.The Law of Moses allowed for substitutions when symbols didn’t work: a different sacrifice was possible. “And if he be not able to bring a lamb, then he shall bring for his trespass …two turtledoves, or two young pigeons, unto the Lord; one for a sin offering, and the other for a burnt offering….But if he be not able to bring two turtledoves, or two young pigeons, then he that sinned shall bring for his offering the tenth part of an ephah of fine flour for a sin offering” (Leviticus 5:7, 11). This is what Mary and Joseph did for baby Jesus at the temple in Luke 2:24, bringing the birds instead of the specified lamb of Leviticus 12:8 for the firstborn son. (They may have brought that offering intentionally, as Jesus was already the sacrificial Lamb, but they may also have been too poor to afford the requisite sacrifice.)

This allowance continues in modern times, where the Sacrament has consisted of wine or water, Wonder bread or Chex, and more. D&C 27 explains: “For, behold, I say unto you, that it mattereth not what ye shall eat or what ye shall drink when ye partake of the sacrament, if it so be that ye do it with an eye single to my glory” (verse 2). In 1946, Ezra Taft Benson poignantly observed the French Saints recovering from the brutalities of World War 2 use potato peelings in place of the sacramental bread.

That which seems perpetual and unchanging may not last forever. Christ is in the Chex, the potato peels, and the bread; the water and the wine; the sheep and the Benadryl; the sun and the shade. When we remember that the purpose of symbols is to point us towards Christ, we can let go of stories and images that no longer (or never did) serve us. Our spiritual development, as individuals and communities, may require changing tools, but God is eternal. Our mortal calendars have a weekly Sunday, but we can celebrate an eternal Sonday. 

I love the scripture where Isaiah promises: “For thou hast been a strength to the poor, a strength to the needy in his distress, a refuge from the storm, a shadow from the heat” (25:4). For me, Jesus is not just the sun, but also the shade. “In the shadow of thy wings will I make my refuge” (Psalm 57:1). I love thinking of him as the protection of the best umbrella, a glorious heavenly palapas, keeping the damaging rays away from me. The word Atonement comes from the Hebrew kaphar, to cover. Christ is my covering, in all ways.  I look forward to a heaven where I love being in the light, because that heavenly city has “no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it: for the glory of God [does] lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof” (Revelation 21:23). 

What symbols of Christ speak to your soul?

With global eyes on the Olympics this week, and the announcement that the Church has been officially welcomed into Azerbaijan, I have been thinking about Jesus’ great commission to send the gospel into all the world, and our own efforts to run the race of life.

Throughout history, humans have arbitrarily created geopolitical borders and divided our DNA into ethnicities, races, and tribes. We also make up rules about games and physical achievements. These distinctions often divide us. Yet seeing world athletes float down the Seine and cheer each other on through competition makes it feel like we’re a small world after all. The gospel message is likewise for everyone, and brings us together in unity with Christ. As Nephi prophesied: “the Lord God shall commence his work among all nations, kindreds, tongues, and people” (2 Nephi 30:8). And we look forward to Zion with no manner of “-ites,” being “in one, the children of Christ, and heirs to the kingdom of God (4 Nephi 1:17).

Several years ago, I was teaching early-morning seminary when President Nelson challenged the youth to help gather Israel by “praying daily that all of God’s children might receive the blessings of the gospel of Jesus Christ.” Our seminary class took this charge seriously and made a list of all the countries in the world where the church was not yet recognized/allowed. Each day of class we learned about one of these countries, where they were located, and prayed for them (and added stickers to our globe pictured). During that year, both Kuwait and Mali opened their doors to official church recognition, and our class rejoiced that their prayers had been heard. As we cheer our various teams, above all, we want to be Team Jesus.

I see gospel resonances in individual activities as well as the global Games. In my much more limited athletic endeavors, I enjoy a deep water aerobics class each summer at my local swimming pool. Several times a week, more than forty participants of various ages, fitness levels, and health conditions endeavor to follow our leader’s instructions. Class is an hour long, including a five minute warm up and cool down time. We strive for agility, balance, coordination, flexibility, endurance, and strength–and succeed to varying degrees. Sometimes we spend class time doing intervals, where we aim for stamina and anaerobic conditioning. Other times, we do choreographed fitness routines where intensity levels vary. 

The other day, our teacher announced, “You’re halfway through! Push it, you’re at your peak intensity right now!” I reflected that I, too, am (at least) halfway through life, as I turn fifty next month. I had a warm up childhood, time spent adjusting and learning skills. I will hopefully have a cool down period at the end, but life may end early due to circumstances beyond my control—as class sometimes does for  thunderstorms or health emergencies. But by midpoint, I have learned the routines to do in a set amount of time, and I can improve their execution at sometimes breathless, peak intensity. Our most challenging routines may involve relationship interactions, spiritual seeking, emotional stamina, or logistical difficulties, but in mid-life sometimes we barely keep our head above water as we strive to follow our Leader. Even when you know the choreography, as time goes on the challenge is more intense just because you’ve been treading water that much longer. The Lord promises, however: “And inasmuch as ye are humble and faithful and call upon my name, behold, I will give you the victory” (D&C 104:82).

Despite my aqua efforts, I, like most of us, will never be an Olympic athlete. Beyond the physical games, though, we have Olympians among us in every dimension. Do you know someone who is on a gold-medal ministering team? A champion listener? A surprise pommel horse hero? The idea of Olympians goes back to the Greek deities on Mount Olympus–and in reality we are all deities in training. As C.S. Lewis so profoundly stated in The Weight of Glory: “It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship….It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all of our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations - these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit - immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.”

The Olympics have millions of viewers, and a handful of champions. However, we can all be champions through Jesus. We, too, are watched and cheered on by those around us, and by generations to come. Our torch has arrived, and we are carrying the light of Christ. He is our eternal Judge who recognizes the high degrees of difficulty in the routines we attempt, as well as the handicaps and disabilities we bring to and are given in the competition of life. Fortunately, we have the best Coach to guide us, and an eternal glory to anticipate as the penalties for our mistakes are washed away. “Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God” (Hebrews 12:1-2). 

“Get Ye Up into the High Mountain, Oh Zion” oil painting by Minerva Teichert. | Private Collection

We heard the gospel from our neighbors, from our sons, from traveling missionaries. We embraced it, we feared it, we never believed it, we threw whitewash at the elders, we knew it was true the minute we heard it. We were baptized in the ice, we wanted to go first in the water (but our husbands insisted it was their right), we were healed of being a cripple for 13 years, we waited, we could miraculously speak English after coming out of the water. We were persecuted by the neighbors, our husband was killed, our wife and child died soon after we converted, we started packing to move to Nauvoo, our husband started abusing us, we were scared to join the Saints, we canvassed the countryside sharing the gospel, our parents kicked us out of the house. We later became members of the Reorganized Church or Seventh Day Adventists. We never joined the Mormons and couldn’t understand our children who did, but came to Utah anyway. We stayed faithful to our foundational religious conversions all our lives.1

We came to Kirtland and donated money to build the temple, we were part of the early gathering, we were mentioned in the D&C. We were killed by the mobs in Missouri. We heard about the gospel and met the Saints in Nauvoo. We died at Nauvoo, we were married and started our families there. We packed up with eight other families to come to Nauvoo, we took the children and escaped England, we worked as a missionary and waited, we had a dream and knew it was time, we were compelled to gather. We died at Winter Quarters. We gave up friends and families, livelihoods and lives.

We were Methodist ministers, we were state legislators, we had written treatises on religion, we knew nothing about religion. We were learned, we were illiterate. We were raised by a black nanny, we had never seen a black person. We were wealthy and brought gold coins sewed in our skirt. We said goodbye to family and lands we'd never see again. The scenery would not ever feel the same in our Zion. We came via the Perpetual Emigration Fund, and sucked on peach pits for sustenance. We found gold in California. We sailed to Australia and back. We rescued a child and were rewarded with our heart’s desire. We left riches, we found riches, we left poverty, and we found poverty.

We were friends with Joseph Smith, we never met him. We saw the mantle fall on Brigham Young, we guided and moved and built for Brigham, we disagreed with Brigham. We married at Brigham’s command, we defied his instructions. He spoke at our funerals. We walked across the plains and joined the Saints in Utah. We rode the train and arrived in Salt Lake City. We were bitten by a rattlesnake and miraculously healed. We brought the rocking chair our husband made before he died in Winter Quarters. We rode an ox cart, we sailed on a ship. We saw dolphins, we learned of the Civil War victory at sea. We met soldiers on trains. We got cholera, we nearly died, we were healed, we got seasick. We were ill the entire trip, we thrived on prairie adventures. We kept a pet kitten that was a skunk.

We were old grandparents who died on the way, we were young mothers who died in childbirth, we were teenagers who thought crossing the plains was a lark, we were pregnant and weary. We were Revolutionary War veterans, we lived to see airplanes fly overhead. We were handcart pioneers, we were handcart rescuers. We were a babe carried in arms. We were the leaders of Brigham’s vanguard company, we had never seen an ox before and put the yoke on the wrong end. We were an old grandma kidnapped by our son in Nebraska--we escaped. We joined the Mormon Battalion and crossed the plains more than once.

We spoke German, we spoke Danish, we spoke Swedish, we spoke Gaelic, we spoke Welsh, we spoke Norwegian, we spoke English with a British accent. We were proud Wikings, we were loyal American Patriots. We learned to write in the Deseret Alphabet, we never learned English. We returned on missions to our homelands, to England, to Denmark, to Vermont. We were brunette and blond, gray haired, white haired, blue eyed, and brown eyed and heterochromic; mustached and bearded, scarred, sunburned, and freckled. (I don't think anyone was bald.) We kept prolific journals and none at all. We lied about our ages, our illegitimate births, and our previous spouses; we had dreams about the ones we’d left behind.

We loved Salt Lake City, we hated it. We stayed and settled. We left and went back to Iowa, to Scotland. We died the day after arriving. We spread out and farmed in Brigham City, in Logan, in Idaho which we thought was still in Utah. We went down to Dixie when called, and named our son St. George. We settled in American Fork, in Provo, in Scipio. We were scared of the natives, we were friends with the natives, we spoke their language and delivered their babies. We returned east and then west and were on the move.

We built stills and opened bars (and were told to close the bar when called as bishop). We were called to work in the vineyard and the cotton fields down south. We planted asparagus and onions, and tomatoes. We quarried the stone to build the temple, grander than anything we'd seen. It was a miserable land, nothing like the big cities of Europe we knew. We were silver miners, lawyers, barbers, and bookkeepers, but mostly we all became farmers. We women worked as lacemaker, postmistress, midwife, milliner, cook, and teachers. We wore bags of caterpillars around our neck to help the silkworms hatch. We took lake water and dried it for salt. We saw the railroad come, we helped build the railroad, we came on the railroad. We died getting too close to the kitchen fire, in a buggy accident, in childbirth, of old age, being kicked by a horse. We went blind.

We stayed married for many years, we divorced our husband, we took more wives. We married feisty young plural wives who fought, and we regretted it. We took our younger wives on missions, we married wives on missions, we stayed married to our first spouse only. We had 2 children, we had 18 children, we had 25 children, most of our fifteen children died at birth. But we all did have children, because you came through our lineage. We died on the same day as our beloved spouse. We buried children and spouses and parents and dreams. We still believed in everlasting life.

We sang, we farmed, we cooked, we sewed, we learned, we dreamed, we built. We played checkers and mourned Queen Victoria’s death. We liked astronomy and noted comets in our journal. We wrote home to England, we had relatives visit from afar, we went to South Carolina to settle a brother’s estate, we never had contact with our past again. We had smart horses who knew tricks, and special china plates. We learned telegraphy as a teenager, we were wrongly imprisoned for murder, we were murdered, we lived through an earthquake, we drove cars. We made bricks and chairs and families and tabernacles, we did genealogical research, we played the zither and started a choir. 

We were mayors and housewives, patriarchs and apostates. We were immigrants and refugees, we had interfaith marriages and marriages with foreigners. We went to jail, we went to the temple, we went home, we went to heaven. We were ever faithful, we were never faithful. We saw miracles, and we pleaded for miracles that never came. And we are all part of you.

Thanks for celebrating all 902 of us (Cramer & Wells pioneer ancestors) today!

However, there is a gift in putting down the screen. I thought of the Hebrew word “selah” which is often found in various Psalms (71 times, in fact). It’s a musical term, indicating a pause (although its exact meaning is debated). This reverent biblical verse came to mind: “The Lord is in his holy temple, let all the earth keep silence before him” (Habakkuk 2:20).

So for this Sabbath devotional, I want to offer you that same gift. Silence, selah. Instead of spending 5 minutes reading this piece, set a timer and turn off the screen. Close your eyes and find silence for a few moments.

Selah

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