Looking on the Heart

As I studied this week's Come, Follow Me lesson, I found myself relating to Saul more than I expected.

Growing up, I often felt self-conscious about my place in the world. I remember entering our valley's Wheat and Beet Days Queen competition and making it all the way to the final interview. Then I conveniently became "sick." The truth was that I couldn't bear the thought of standing before a crowd and being judged.

Thankfully, I've changed.

Just yesterday, I stood up to lead a new hymn in sacrament meeting and discovered my iPad wasn't where I thought it was. I led the first line of the song, left my post, found a hymnbook, and came back. Years ago I would have been mortified. Yesterday I simply laughed.

Perhaps that's one reason Saul's story caught my attention. Samuel warned the people about kings, yet they wanted one anyway. Later, Saul became more concerned with circumstances and appearances than with trusting the Lord. Instead of waiting for Samuel as instructed, he acted on his own.

His story reminds me that the Lord is less concerned with appearances than with the condition of our hearts.

That brings me to the part of this week's lesson that hit closest to home: judging others.

Elder Christophe G. Giraud-Carrier taught that we should not judge people by their station in life, where they come from, their titles, or their Church callings. Every person is first and foremost a child of God.

I need that reminder often.

When Samuel was sent to anoint a new king, the Lord taught him a lesson we still need today: "Man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart."

The older I get, the more I realize that every person I meet has divine worth and eternal potential. Through the grace of Jesus Christ, that potential is limitless.

I may not always see people as the Lord sees them, but I pray continually for that gift.

Who Do You Think They're Talking To?

As I read 2 Nephi 27 today, my thoughts wandered through history and eventually brought me back to a very personal moment.

Verse 25 speaks of people whose fear of God is "taught by the precepts of men." That phrase made me think about centuries when religious leaders kept the scriptures out of the hands of ordinary people. I thought about men like George Whitefield, who spent his life teaching people about Jesus Christ and His love for all of God's children. Not some of His children. All of them.

The more I pondered, the more I saw the hand of the Lord moving through history. The Reformation, the spread of literacy, the freedoms that emerged in the New World—these things didn't happen by accident. The Lord was preparing the way for truth to spread throughout the earth.

And what truth was He preparing the world to receive?

The Book of Mormon.

It contains the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ, and because of it, countless lives have been changed—including mine.

I have read the Book of Mormon many times, more than I can count since switching to electronic scriptures. Yet each time I read it, I learn something new. A verse that seemed ordinary before suddenly shines with meaning. A familiar story teaches a lesson I needed that very day. The book is inexhaustible because the Spirit teaches us according to our needs.

Now that I'm serving as an ordinance worker in the temple, I've discovered yet another layer. As I read, I find myself connecting dots to temple passages and temple teachings. When those connections appear, I feel that familiar excitement all over again. The truth was there all along—I simply wasn't ready to see it before. The Book of Mormon continues to unfold as my understanding grows, and I marvel at how the Lord teaches us line upon line, according to our capacity to receive.

For many years, I heard Church leaders encourage us to read the Book of Mormon. Then one day, while making my bed after conference, a simple thought stopped me in my tracks.

"Who do you think they're talking to, Connie?"

The answer was obvious.

Me.

Not the people around me. Not someone who needed it more. Me.

So I started again, this time with greater purpose. I wasn't reading simply to finish chapters. I wanted to learn from its pages and hear what the Lord was trying to teach me.

That small moment became a tender mercy that changed my life.

Since then, Heavenly Father has placed people in my path who have helped me grow. One of them was my dear friend Floy Harley. We became temple buddies, and I treasured her spiritual insights. She had a gift for seeing truth and sharing it in a way that strengthened my faith.

As I look back, I realize that the Lord prepared the world to receive the Book of Mormon, but He also prepared me to receive it. Through prophets, teachers, friends, and quiet promptings, He patiently led me to a deeper love of His word.

I still have much to learn. That's one reason I keep returning to the Book of Mormon. Every reading teaches me something new about the Savior and His gospel.

And every so often, I still hear that question:

"Who do you think they're talking to?"

The answer is always the same.

Me.

For Our Good

"He doeth not anything save it be for the benefit of the world." (2 Nephi 26:24)

There are verses that comfort me, and then there are verses that settle deep into my soul. This is one of them.

The Lord does nothing except for our good. Nothing.

That includes the disappointments we never saw coming, the prayers that seem unanswered, the unexpected detours, and yes, perhaps even the freeway gridlock that tests our patience on an extraordinary challenging Friday afternoon rush hour.

At first glance, that can be hard to believe. If God loves us, why doesn't He remove every obstacle from our path? Why doesn't He swoop in and fix every difficult situation?

Because growth rarely comes through ease. A quote on my daughter’s family board is perfect: "Little growth occurs in a comfort zone, and there is little comfort in a growth zone." 

The Lord does not create every hardship we face, but He allows us to walk through a world where choices have consequences and mortality is real. In those moments, we are given opportunities to choose. Will we surrender to anger, frustration, and fear? Or will we place the situation in the Lord's hands and trust Him?

That trust is the source of true confidence.

Not confidence in ourselves, but confidence in God. Confidence that whatever is happening in our lives, He can use it for our good.

Joseph Smith learned that lesson in the depths of Liberty Jail. The Lord told him:

"And if thou shouldst be cast into the pit, or into the hands of murderers ... know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good." (D&C 122:7)

Those words don't erase our trials, but they change how we view them. They remind us that God is not absent from our struggles. He is shaping us through them.

Nephi closes this chapter with another truth that I love. After teaching of the Lord's goodness, he teaches of charity. Without it, we are nothing. Charity is the pure love of Christ—a love that reaches beyond differences, prejudices, and labels.

Then comes one of the most beautiful invitations in scripture:

"He inviteth them all to come unto him and partake of his goodness; and he denieth none that come unto him, black and white, bond and free, male and female ... and all are alike unto God." (2 Nephi 26:33)

All are alike unto God.

What a blessing it is to know that. And what a responsibility.

If we truly believe that the Lord is working for the benefit of all His children, perhaps it should change the way we respond in the heat of the moment. Perhaps it should make us a little more patient, a little more charitable, and a little more willing to trust that God knows what He is doing.

I am still learning that lesson.

But I find peace in knowing that whatever the Lord allows into my life, His purpose is never to harm me. His purpose is to help me become something more than I am today.

One Question Leads to Another

Some days my scripture study leads me down a rabbit hole of questions. One thought sparks another, and before long I'm trying to fit together pieces of a plan that is far bigger than I can fully comprehend.

That happened this morning in 2 Nephi 25.

As I read Nephi's words, I stopped at verse 3 and asked myself, Why did Nephi write?

For the same reason I do.

He wanted his posterity to know truth. He wanted them to understand God, His plan, and the importance of developing a testimony of their own. He wrote so future generations would know where to turn.

Verse 8 tells us that these words would be of great worth in the last days. Those days are now. We see nations rising against nations and a growing urgency to gather the Lord's people.

That phrase always gives me pause. Aren't we all God's children?

Then Nephi warns, "Wo unto them that fight against God and the people of his church" (v. 14). As I pondered that verse, I thought of people I have known who once seemed firmly rooted in faith but have since walked away. It makes me cling more tightly to the simple things that strengthen testimony—prayer, scripture study, temple worship, and obedience. We cannot afford to become spiritually lazy.

Then my thoughts wandered to another question. What about those who never hear the gospel? How can the gathering be fair if so many live and die without knowledge of Jesus Christ and His restored Church?

Almost immediately, my mind went back to the temple. Just yesterday we were sealing families together through priesthood power restored to the earth. The gathering is not happening only on this side of the veil. It is happening there as well. I thought of my parents, both gone now, and imagined them continuing the work of teaching and sharing truth. The gathering of Israel is moving forward on both sides of the veil, just as the Lord promised.

Then Nephi brought me back to the answer I needed:

"We labor diligently to write... to persuade our children... to believe in Christ" (v. 23).

A few verses later he explains what that means:

"We talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ... and we write... that our children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins" (v. 26).

There it is!

My opportunities to teach my children are not what they once were. But I can still write.

I can write of Christ. I can write of faith. I can write of the experiences that have taught me to trust Him.

Someday, perhaps when I'm no longer here, one of my children or grandchildren may read these words and remember where to look.

That is why Nephi wrote.

And that is why I write.

Why I Write

As I read 2 Nephi 25 this morning, I was struck by how much Nephi valued remembering.

By this point, it had been at least sixty-five years since Lehi's family left Jerusalem. Several generations may have been born since then. How could they remember a city they had never seen or experiences they had never lived? The only way was if parents and grandparents told the stories again and again.

Perhaps that's one reason the scriptures repeatedly urge us to remember. If one generation stops teaching, the next generation loses more than facts—they lose their connection to God.

Nephi also explains that he did not write extensively about the wickedness of his day. Why would he? His purpose was not to preserve evil but to preserve truth. Instead, he focused on the scriptures, on the covenants of God, and most importantly, on Jesus Christ.

I love Nephi's words in verse 3 because they remind me of the power of writing. I cannot preach to future generations, but I can write. I can leave behind a witness that God is real, that His judgments are just, and that His doctrine is plain and precious. I am grateful Nephi took the time to write, because his words still teach me today.

Last night we watched The Great Awakening, the story of George Whitefield. What impressed me most was his unwavering devotion to preaching Christ. Thousands came to hear him. Lives changed because he testified of the Savior's healing power. His friend Benjamin Franklin remained skeptical for years, yet Whitefield never stopped sharing what he knew. His life reminded me of Nephi's determination to point people to Christ.

Nephi's warning in verse 14 also caught my attention: "Wo unto them that fight against God and the people of his church." We live in a day when many who once seemed firmly rooted in faith are choosing different paths. I do not pretend to understand every circumstance, but it reminds me how desperately I need the iron rod. Testimonies require nourishment. We cannot afford spiritual laziness.

In verse 21, Nephi explains why he writes: for his seed and for generations to come. That is my purpose too. I do not write prophecy, but I write application. I write about how gospel truths have changed my life. Like Nephi, I find it to be a labor of love for my children, grandchildren, and those who come after me.

Verses 23 through 27 contain one of the clearest declarations in scripture: everything points to Christ. We talk of Christ, rejoice in Christ, preach of Christ, and write of Christ so our children will know where to look for salvation.

That verse feels especially personal to me. Why do I write of Christ? Why do I write music about Christ? Because He has changed my life. Many of the songs I have written began as quiet gifts from Heavenly Father. I was never formally trained to write music, lyrics, or even prose, yet He has magnified my efforts.

This chapter is filled with beautiful doctrine, but verse 29 may be my favorite. Nephi teaches that if we believe in Christ and worship Him with all our might, mind, strength, and soul, we will not be cast out.

What a promise.

And what a reason to keep writing.

The Blessing of Journaling

2 Nephi 24:7 — "The whole earth is at rest, and is quiet; they break forth into singing."

I had a "moment" with this verse about three years ago. Thankfully, I recorded it in my scripture notes because today I would have remembered very little of it otherwise.

As I read the verse this morning, one phrase jumped out at me: they break forth into singing. Rest, quiet, and singing all in the same sentence. To me, that paints a picture of peace so deep that joy naturally follows.

That thought took me back to a Stake Choir experience I had years ago.

The choir had just begun practicing for Stake Conference. Michelle Sundwall introduced a beautiful piece of music, but the copies were difficult to read—copies of copies, handwritten notes, cut-and-pasted lyrics. As I left rehearsal, I casually mentioned to Clyde, "I could rewrite that and make it much easier to sing."

That simple thought became the beginning of something unexpected.

The next morning, I opened my Finale program and began entering the music. By evening I was deep into the project, fitting it in between my regular responsibilities. The work itself wasn't remarkable, but what happened while I was doing it was.

A feeling of love and gratitude washed over me—one of those sacred moments that is difficult to describe but impossible to deny. I remember sitting at my piano, covering my face with my hands, simply absorbing the feeling. The Spirit was present in a powerful way. I felt the Lord's approval and knew that this small act of service mattered to Him.

Today, as I reread my notes, I realized something surprising. I remembered that I had worked on the music, but I had forgotten almost everything else. The warmth. The gratitude. The overwhelming feeling of being useful in the Lord's hands. Those precious details would have been lost had I not written them down.

That is one of the great blessings of journaling and scripture notes. We often assume we'll remember our spiritual experiences, but memories fade. Feelings that once seemed unforgettable gradually slip away. A written record allows us to revisit those sacred moments and feel them again.

I'm grateful that years ago I took a few minutes to record what happened. Today, those notes reminded me not only of a choir arrangement, but of a loving Heavenly Father who occasionally lets us know that what we're doing matters.

Sometimes the greatest blessing of writing something down is that years later, the Lord can use our own words to remind us of what we once knew. And what a sweet reminder that in this one thing, the Lord used what I can do to further His work, because honestly, this was a joyous song to sing in Stake Conference as we praised the Lord in song!

Isaiah's Weapons of Destruction

As I read 2 Nephi 23 this morning, I began to make a list of the Lord's weapons of destruction. The chapter certainly contains plenty of them. The land becomes desolate. The stars, moon, and sun are darkened. Earthquakes shake the earth. Men become scarce.

That last thought caught my attention. Isaiah says that a man will become "more precious than fine gold." In a world where righteousness is increasingly uncommon, real men and women of faith can seem rare indeed—people who are determined in mind, united in heart, and committed to God.

Some of Isaiah's descriptions are troubling. Families suffer. Children suffer. Society becomes cruel. Human dignity disappears. Wickedness always leaves casualties behind.

As I read, I kept asking myself: What are the Lord's weapons of destruction?

By the end of the chapter, I had changed the question.

Perhaps the real weapons destroying the world like earthquakes or darkened skies designed by the Lord but maybe they're weapons of self destruction. Perhaps they are the evil designs of men. Satan inspires pride, selfishness, lust, greed, and rebellion, and those influences tear apart individuals, families, and nations. Much of the destruction Isaiah describes may be the natural result of people turning away from God.

At times it almost seems as though Satan reigns upon the earth. The news can feel overwhelming. The decline of morality can be discouraging. Watching loved ones make choices that distance them from the gospel can break a parent's heart.

But Isaiah does not end with despair.

The chapter closes with a reminder that the Lord knows His people. Judgment will come, but so will mercy. The wicked may perish, but God has not abandoned those who seek Him.

That is the message I want to remember.

Satan's influence may be widespread, but it is temporary. God will prevail. He always has, and He always will.

The Excitement of the Last Days

Years ago, I wrote a note in the margin beside 2 Nephi 21: "This chapter leaves me excited about the last days." Reading it again, I discovered I still feel the same way.

I also discovered something else: excitement has a short shelf life. It is so sad to see the excitement wane  for so many who for a time seemed rock solid in their faith and realization that the Lord has a Plan — a plan for them.

The concerns of daily life crowd in. Responsibilities pile up. The news cycle changes. Even spiritual impressions can fade if they aren't revisited. Yet every time I return to this chapter, the excitement returns.

The opening verses describe the Savior's Second Coming. Isaiah lists the qualities that accompany Him: 

• wisdom, 
• understanding, 
• counsel, 
• might, 
• knowledge, and 
• the fear of the Lord. 

What a contrast to the confusion of our day. Christ will not judge by appearances or popular opinion. He will judge the poor in righteousness and the meek with equity. Truth will finally prevail.

Then Isaiah turns our attention to the Millennium. We often picture the lion lying down with the lamb, but the chapter paints an even larger picture. 

• Children will no longer fear harmful creatures. 
• There will be no shedding of blood. 
• Satan will be bound. 
• Darkness and deception will be gone. 
• The whole earth will become a place where the knowledge of God is everywhere.

One phrase especially catches my attention:

"The earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea."

I've stood on a ship as I viewed the ocean before me. Its size stretches beyond what my eyes can take in. The horizon seems endless. Isaiah's image is perfect. God's knowledge won't exist in scattered pockets. It will cover the earth completely.

Perhaps that is why there will finally be peace. Nations will no longer prepare for war because the world will know the Lord. That's a big leap and the imagination goes wild with the "how".

The chapter also speaks of the gathering of Israel. One note in my scriptures says that the miracle of the gathering will make the parting of the Red Sea pale in comparison. At first, that sounds impossible. Few miracles are more dramatic than Moses leading Israel through the sea on dry ground.

Yet the gathering is happening across the entire earth. Hearts are changing. Covenants are being made. People are finding their way back to Christ, and becoming covenant children. He is creating a highway home, just as surely as He once opened a path through the sea.

The gathering of Israel is not something happening somewhere else. It is happening now.

And that leaves me excited about the last days all over again.

What is My Glory?

What is My Glory?

I wasn’t all that excited about trudging through another Isaiah chapter this morning, but I started anyway. 2 Nephi 20 was my chapter.

Honestly, much of Isaiah still feels like code to me. Sometimes I can follow the imagery, and other times I feel like I’m reading through smoke. So I just started writing notes in the margins and asking questions as I went.

One question stopped me almost immediately:

“Where will ye leave your glory?” (2 Nephi 20:3)

I had written “riches” in the margin. But the more I sat with it, the more I wondered if glory means more than wealth or possessions. What do we glory in? What do we spend our lives building?

The Lord declares His glory very plainly:
“To bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.” (Moses 1:39)

Should that become my glory too?

Isaiah ties this question directly to the poor, the widows, and the needy. The chapter makes it sound as though people will eventually be judged not just by what they believed, but by how they treated vulnerable people along the way.

And woven through all of it is that repeated reminder that the Lord’s hand is “stretched out still.” Judgment is there in Isaiah, certainly. But somehow mercy is still there too.

Some of the imagery in this chapter is unsettling.

The axe boasting against the one holding it.
The forests consumed by fire.
The lofty trees cut down.
The proud brought low.

Isaiah seems to describe people who become so confident in their own power that they forget they were never the source of it to begin with. The axe has no power without the hand that swings it.

The references and footnotes led me again and again to one recurring problem: pride.

• Pride that comes through riches.
• Pride that ignores the needy.
• Pride that mocks sacred things.
• Pride that rejects revelation.
• Pride that slowly deserts truths once held.

And then comes the strange contrast that gave me hope:
the remnant.

Isaiah says a remnant will return. In my margins I wrote:
“The remnant of Israel is those who repent.”

Repent means to return. Return to what?
Perhaps to covenant keeping. To humility. To God Himself.

It’s comforting that Isaiah makes it sound like returning is still possible. Even after rebellion. Even after pride. Even after destruction has already begun.

Maybe that is why the Lord’s hand remains stretched out still.

By the end of the chapter, I found myself wondering whether Isaiah was only speaking about ancient nations at all. We are in the latter days, aren’t we?

Do we see pride today?
Do we see wealth replacing compassion?
Do we see sacred things mocked?
Do we trust in human strength more than God?

I still don’t pretend to fully understand Isaiah. I know I miss a lot. But this chapter left me asking a question I probably need to ask more often:

What is my glory?

When fear rises, run to God first.

There are chapters in Isaiah where I feel completely lost, and then there are chapters where the message quietly settles in over several years. For me, 2 Nephi 18 / Isaiah 8 has become one of those chapters. I turned to the margin notes in my scriptures for help today. 

One of my old margin notes simply says:

“Don’t team with the adversary.”

At the time, I probably thought I was writing something profound. Now I think I was only beginning to see the chapter clearly.

Isaiah warns the people not to trust in confederacies, alliances, fear, or the panic of the world around them. Everyone else is running somewhere for safety. Isaiah keeps pointing them back to God.

Three times the phrase “broken in pieces” is repeated. That caught my attention later. In scripture, repetition matters. Isaiah seems to be saying:

• You can gather together.
• You can make alliances.
• You can arm yourselves.
• Without God, you will still be broken in pieces.

The alternative?

“Sanctify the Lord… and let him be your fear.”

I do not think “fear” here means terror. I think it means reverence, awe, loyalty, and remembering who truly holds power. 

• Don’t fear men. 
• Don’t fear nations. 
• Don’t fear collapse. 
• Fear losing connection with God.

One thing I noticed is how differently people experience the Savior in this chapter. Isaiah describes Him as both a sanctuary and a stumbling stone. The same God who shelters some becomes an offense to others. I struggle with this. Isn’t Jerusalem supposed to be the covenant people? Isaiah does not let them hide behind that identity. We all choose.

And then there is the warning against seeking wisdom from sorcerers, mediums, and spiritual substitutes. Apparently humanity has always looked for shortcuts to certainty and safety.

I even wrote in my notes:

“Is asking AI for clarity the same thing? I hope not.” [gulp]

I do not think the problem is asking questions. The problem is where we finally place our trust.

So my bottom line from this chapter has stayed surprisingly simple:

When fear rises, run to God first.

 

Faith and Trust in God - 2 Nephi 17

My notes to myself on this chapter are simple: don’t pretend you believe when you don’t. And honestly, I had to do some exploring before I arrived at even that much. Isaiah isn't the easiest reading.

Much of this chapter feels like a preview of the last days. Nations collapse. Civilizations become smaller. Prosperity fades, and survival is the name of the game.

I read Isaiah and partly understand him, but it is still hard to fully wrap my mind around it all. Today’s news often feels bleak. Civility in our communities seems to be disappearing. Why? Perhaps because belief in God is disappearing too.

We’ve been promised that faithful covenant-keeping people will survive. I cling desperately to that promise.

Do I understand all of this? Of course not. But I believe the scriptures are warnings, and I try very hard to heed them.

And that’s enough for today. Nothing profound — just faith, and trust in my Savior, Jesus Christ, that somehow all things will work out.

When Hearts Grow Fat - Thoughts on 2 Nephi 16

Thoughts on 2 Nephi 16

Isaiah’s writings always leave me with more questions than answers, and 2 Nephi 16 was no exception.

The chapter begins with the Lord asking, “Whom shall I send?” and someone answers, “Here am I; send me.” My first thought was of the premortal life and the Savior volunteering to come to earth. But in this chapter, it appears to be Isaiah accepting the call to warn the people.

Warn them of what?

That may be the uncomfortable part.

Isaiah describes people with “fat hearts,” “heavy ears,” and “shut eyes”. At first, those phrases sounded strange to me, but the more I sat with them, the more familiar they became.

A hard heart is easier to understand. Perhaps a “fat” heart is one so layered with worldliness that it can no longer feel. Not disease of the body, but constant exposure to the world — pride, selfishness, corruption, noise, sin, and endless distractions. Maybe the heart becomes insulated, wrapped so tightly that truth can no longer penetrate it.

Heavy ears may simply describe people unwilling to hear. I have seen that in my own life, and if I’m honest, probably in myself too.

And shut eyes? That one feels painfully obvious. Some things people simply do not want to see because seeing them might require change.

As I reread the chapter, a phrase from someone I knew well comes to mind:“I like who I am. I don’t want to change.”

That sentence suddenly seemed to explain all three conditions at once.

Perhaps conversion is frightening because it requires surrendering the version of ourselves we have grown comfortable protecting.

Isaiah then asks how long these conditions will continue, and the answer becomes bleak: cities wasted, homes abandoned, the land desolate.

It is difficult not to think about modern wars when reading those verses. Images from places like Ukraine and Iran show emptied cities, destruction, fear, and people fleeing for safety. Isaiah’s words no longer feel ancient and disconnected. They feel “NOW”.

One phrase especially stayed with me: “a great forsaking in the midst of the land.”

I still do not fully understand it.

Is it individuals forsaking righteousness? Entire societies collapsing morally? People abandoning responsibility? Or simply the natural result of turning away from God for so long that eventually everything begins to unravel?

I honestly do not know.

Isaiah often feels like standing in fog where shapes appear for a moment and then disappear again. Some verses feel clear while others remain far beyond me. But perhaps part of studying Isaiah is learning to sit with questions instead of forcing quick answers.

What I do know is this: the Lord’s desire is not to condemn, but to heal.

And maybe the real danger comes when we no longer want healing at all.

His Hand is Stretched Out Still

2 Nephi 15 may be one of my favorite Isaiah chapters because the symbolism becomes startlingly clear once you begin to see it.

The chapter opens with a warning about strong drink. I once lived with an alcoholic, and Isaiah’s words feel painfully literal. It is heartbreaking to watch someone begin the morning with liquor and believe they are perfectly fine. “Wo unto them” indeed. Addiction inflames the soul. Music, parties, and noise often become substitutes for anything spiritual, while those trapped in it lose the ability to see clearly.

One image especially stood out to me from Understanding Isaiah: the wicked drag their sins behind them like a beast pulling a loaded cart. Vanity and pride twist into cords that become difficult to break. What begins as emptiness eventually becomes bondage. Yet Christ’s invitation remains: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

Then comes another warning: those who call evil good and good evil; darkness light and light darkness. Isaiah could have been speaking directly to our day. We live in a world where moral lines are continually blurred, and compassion is often defined as acceptance without question. Loving someone while still trusting the Lord’s commandments can place us at odds with the world. That tension is real, painful, and deeply personal for many families.

Verse 24 struck me hard: “their root shall be rottenness, and their blossoms shall go up as dust.” Roots are our ancestors; blossoms are our posterity. When people abandon the faith and sacrifices of those who came before them, the next generation often drifts even farther away. I have watched that happen in my own extended family, and it is heartbreaking.

But Isaiah does not leave us there.

Repeatedly, He reminds us that “His hand is stretched out still.” The Lord does not give up on His children. Even in warning, there is mercy. Even in scattering, there is gathering.

That leads naturally to the question: How will He gather His people?

Isaiah answers with the image of an ensign—a banner lifted up for the nations. The Lord will call to His children and invite them home. I love the thought that His “hiss” or whistle is not anger, but a loving summons from a Shepherd who remembers His covenants.

An ensign is something visible. To me, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints stands as one of those visible witnesses in the earth. Missionaries are everywhere, quietly carrying His message across nations and languages. Isaiah described the movement in the imagery available to him, but it is fascinating to read those verses while thinking of the speed in traveling in today's work, and the reach of the modern world.

For all the warnings in this chapter, Isaiah leaves me hopeful. The Lord sees the confusion of our day perfectly clearly, and still His hand is stretched out.

Much of what I pondered in this chapter never made it onto the page. Isaiah has a way of leaving me thinking long after I close the scriptures.

When Isaiah Sounds Like Today

Isaiah 5:6 says the Lord will command the clouds not to rain. That sounds like drought to me. Aren’t we in a drought? The clouds have seemed stingy this year and water appears to be the topic of discussion on every newscast. I don’t know if this is exactly what Isaiah is talking about here, because today the Gospel of Jesus Christ is being taught and accepted all over the world. The light of the Gospel is shining. So maybe I need to be careful not to read only doom and gloom into Isaiah. Still, his words make me stop and think.

Verse 8 is a stark visual to me:
“. . .join house to house, till there can be no place. . . .”

Does this not describe our housing today? Row houses are everywhere and more are being built daily. I’m honestly not alarmed by that because I see gathering in it too. People are clearly being drawn to Utah, and covenant people are gathering all over the earth in preparation for the Savior’s return. And without doubt, we (think Utah here) are inviting the world to "come and see."

Then again. . . Isaiah always seems to dig deeper than appearances.

I remember that the bottom line behind much of this building is growth and money. Clyde is always saying, “Cash is king,” and it’s obvious some very rich people are buying up land and building multi-family dwellings. Maybe they look like the good guy, but there is still a lot of money changing hands. Isaiah’s warning seems less about the buildings themselves and more about greed driving the bus.

Then verse 9 hits:
“Many houses shall be desolate, and great and fair cities without inhabitant.”

That’s sobering.

History repeats itself. Cities rise and fall. Economies boom and collapse. People scatter. Jobs disappear. Families move where survival takes them. Isaiah could have been seeing all kinds of things from where he stood.

But I also don’t think these verses cancel out the latter-day gathering. If anything, they remind me that worldly systems are unstable while the Kingdom of God keeps moving forward. The Lord knew all of this would happen, and yet temples continue to dot the earth and the Gospel continues to spread.

Verse 10 feels like a warning that huge investments can still produce very little of lasting value.

Maybe that’s the real question Isaiah leaves with me:
What are we building our lives on?