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?

Arise and Shine - 2 Nephi 14

Reading 2 Nephi 14 left me pondering the daughters of Zion. Isaiah’s words can feel both sobering and hopeful at the same time. Verse 4 especially caught my attention. What does it mean that the daughters of Zion will be purged and cleansed “by the spirit of burning”? Is Isaiah speaking of destruction, or repentance? 

I believe the answer lies in choice.

Sometimes the fire we experience is the burning realization that the Lord is our only true defense. Pride, self-reliance, and worldly distractions eventually fail us. In those moments, guilt can either harden the heart or soften it. The miracle of the Savior is that at any point a daughter of Zion can cry out to Him, and He will answer. He heals. He cleanses. He helps us turn around and come back to the fold.

But Isaiah’s warning still matters. We cannot endlessly drift without consequence. After enough compromise, a daughter of Zion slowly becomes something other than Zion. The invitation is to return before the light within us grows dim.

Then Isaiah shifts from warning to promise.

“Arise, shine; for thy light is come.” I love this! It is the Relief Society theme for Women’s Conference this spring. Those words from Isaiah 60 echo beautifully beside 2 Nephi 14. Who is Isaiah speaking to? All of Israel. Me. You.

And what is the light? 

It is the Light of Christ and the power of His restored gospel. As we come unto Him, His glory begins to show in our countenance. His light changes the way we see, speak, serve, and endure.

Isaiah says even the Gentiles—the world—will be drawn to that light. Kings will come to its brightness.

I think we are seeing that happen now.

I see faithful young women traveling the earth sharing messages of hope and joy. I see Relief Society, Primary, and Young Women leaders doing the same — lifting hearts and turning people toward Christ. There is something recognizable about genuine light. People are hungry for it.

The hymn “The Lord Is My Light” crosses my  mind.

And then comes Isaiah’s beautiful promise: this light will become a protection. A refuge. A covering from the storms of life.

Not freedom from storms—but shelter in the middle of them.

The daughters of Zion were never meant to glow with borrowed light. We were meant to arise and shine with His.

The Show of Their Countenance

Today’s reading was 2 Nephi 13. Ah yes — the daughters of Zion. I suppose that includes me. Am I listening? I try.

The very first verse gave me something to ponder. The Lord removes the “stay and the staff” — bread and water. Is Isaiah describing famine? Possibly. But then my mind went another direction. Christ is the bread of life and the living water. What if the greater famine is the loss of His Spirit? That would certainly remove the stay and staff of my world.

I’ve learned to keep reading when Isaiah confuses me. Clarity usually comes later.

Verse 4 speaks of children ruling. At first that sounds alarming, but my thoughts immediately went to Joseph Smith — a 14-year-old boy whose life and testimony changed the world. Then I thought of the thousands of young missionaries carrying the gospel across nations today. The Lord has always worked through the young and seemingly weak.

Verse 5 struck even closer to home: “the child shall behave himself proudly against the ancient.” We live in a world where many parents are afraid to parent. Afraid to correct. Afraid to require discipline, responsibility, or even healthy habits. Isaiah saw our day more clearly than we sometimes realize.

But it was verse 9 that settled deepest into my heart: “The show of their countenance doth witness against them.”

People tell us not to judge by appearances, and certainly we should be careful. But there is something unmistakable about countenance. I saw it in my own conversion. I saw it in my daughter when she fully embraced the Gospel, and I saw the change again when she cooled spiritually for a time. Light leaves traces. So does darkness.

This chapter feels like a checklist — warnings, consequences, invitations, and reminders. Isaiah does not leave us comfortless. It is a blessing to be warned.

For today, that is enough to chew on.

My Soul Delighteth

Today my thoughts were scattered. 2 Nephi 12 as well as in 2 Corinthians, but one message kept rising to the surface: My soul delighteth in Christ.

My soul delighteth in:

• Truth,
• Christ’s coming,
• Covenants with God,
• His grace,
• His justice,
• His power,
• His mercy, and
• His deliverance from death.

One verse grabbed me: If there be no Christ, there be no God. I’m grateful for the certainty I feel about Him. It reminded me of a line from my recent efforts at songwriting: Without Easter, there’d be no Christmas. Everything comes back to Him.

Then I read 2 Nephi 12:2 about “the mountain of the Lord’s house.” Immediately my mind went to the Salt Lake Temple. Its open house is scheduled from April through October 2027, and people are already talking about planning vacations around it. “All nations shall flow unto it.” Of this, I feel certain.

I also found myself thinking about the Millennium. Imagine living in a world where people “shall learn war no more.” Not just fewer wars — no training for war at all. What a breathtaking promise.

But scripture never lets us stay only in the beautiful promises without also asking us to look inward.

Another verse reminded me that all have gone astray. All. Pride heads the list. Excusing our own behavior follows close behind. Vanity. False teachings. Human nature hasn’t changed much.

One thought especially lingered with me today: you can’t really hide from who you are. We can ignore promptings. We can push away the Spirit. But somewhere deep inside, the soul remembers its divine origin. At least mine does. I’ve learned that living beneath our privileges creates a restlessness that is difficult to silence.

Then my reading took me to Solomon.

I was confused at first because 2 Chronicles 9 records Solomon’s death but says little about his spiritual downfall. That sent me searching into 1 Kings 10–11, where the fuller story is told.

There it was — the part I remembered.

Solomon, who had been blessed with wisdom and who had even seen God twice, slowly drifted. His many wives “turned away his heart after other gods.” The man who built the temple allowed compromise to creep into his life.

That truth feels both tragic and cautionary.

If Solomon could drift, any of us can, and it’s not a small club.

And yet, despite all of humanity’s wandering, the message of scripture remains hopeful. Christ still calls. Temples still rise. Nations will yet flow unto the house of the Lord. Someday war itself will end. Aren’t you so grateful for the restored scriptures that clarify so many questions?

My soul delighteth.

The Lord Never Forgets

There was a comforting thought waiting for me in 2 Nephi 10 this morning.

Jacob teaches that the Lord remembers His covenant people, even when they are scattered. As I read verse 2, I thought about my own parents. They must have been thrilled when I finally turned around and realized how blessed I had been all along. Whether in this life or the next, I believe our posterity eventually finds their way back to truth and light. That thought brings me enormous peace.

Verse 22 caught my attention too. Jacob speaks of people from the house of Israel being led to the isles of the sea. In February 2025,we toured New Zealand and spent time among the Maori people. I loved hearing their language, watching their traditions, and seeing how deeply they honor their heritage. Reading this verse brought those sweet memories rushing back.

I also love the reminder in verse 23 that we are “free to act for ourselves” — free to choose everlasting death or eternal life. Agency is both a gift and a responsibility.

Then I moved into 2 Chronicles 6 and immediately thought, This sounds like a temple dedicatory prayer. I checked the section heading and smiled when I realized I was right. I love moments like that.

As I read Solomon’s prayer, the similarities to our temples today stood out to me:

• The temple was built with exquisite care and detail.
• The name of the Lord was upon it.
• The description of the font reminded me of our baptismal fonts.
• Solomon spread forth his hands in prayer, something we still see in sacred temple worship today.

I once sat in the Celestial Room during a temple dedication. I wish I could remember more of the details, but I do remember the feeling that every door, wall, fixture, and corner had been dedicated to the work of the Lord.

One part of Solomon’s prayer especially stayed with me. He prayed that when the people sinned and were brought low, they would remember the Lord and turn back to Him. I found myself wondering if that is part of what we are experiencing today. The drought around us certainly has a way of humbling people. Those with eyes to see recognize how dependent we are upon heaven. The recent moisture we’ve received feels merciful, and I pray it continues through the growing and harvest seasons.

But the verses that touched me most were verses 36–39. Solomon pleads that when people finally remember God and return to Him, the Lord will have compassion on them.

That feels personal to me.

I have been told that my parents’ faithfulness in keeping their covenants is part of the reason my own prayers were eventually heard and why I was rescued. I believe that with all my heart.

Maybe that is one of the great blessings of covenant living: faithful people keep reaching for heaven on behalf of those they love, and God never forgets either of them.

Death Is Not the Monster

Thoughts from 2 Nephi 9

As I read 2 Nephi 9 this morning, my mind kept circling one persistent question. Scripture often speaks of entire nations turning to God or entire peoples falling away from Him. We are watching it happen in the world around us today.

But what about the one?

What about the individual swept away in sin? The person who never knew truth? The soul who never had the chance?

As I pondered that question, I realized I may already know the answer. Isn’t that why we labor so earnestly in temple work? To bring gospel ordinances to those who never had the opportunity to choose them in mortality? What mercy from a Father who does not forget even one soul.

This chapter makes my mind wander in the best possible way.

Jacob teaches that Jesus Christ will return and deliver His covenant people. I read those words personally — me, my family. I believe that promise. I even wonder if I may witness it in my lifetime, when scales of darkness fall and people finally see clearly.

Jesus Christ is my Savior and Redeemer. I love Him deeply and pray daily that I may serve Him to my dying breath.

One small footnote stopped me for several minutes today. Alma 34:10 speaks of “a great and last sacrifice; yea, not a sacrifice of man.”

At first I thought, Wait… wasn’t Jesus a man?

Then it settled into place. The sacrifices they understood were offerings of something else for sin. But Jesus willingly offered Himself. His own life. That is what made His sacrifice infinite and eternal.

And then Jacob’s words ring out:

“O how great the goodness of our God…”

Because of Christ, we escape the monsters of death and sin. Without Him, where would any of us be? We are imperfect people trying to find our way through a fallen world, and yet God, in His goodness, created a path home.

Today I feel especially grateful to know there is life after death.

Death is not the monster.

Clyde’s brother is facing serious heart problems right now, and many of the men in their family have died from heart disease. Mortality reminds us how fragile life is. But 2 Nephi 9 reminds me that death is not the end and not the enemy Christ could not conquer.

Verse 12 answers it beautifully:

“Through the power of the resurrection of the Holy One of Israel.”

Jesus alone could open that door.

I cannot explain exactly how resurrection works, though I have spent many hours studying and pondering it. But I believe it. There is too much witness in scripture and too much confirmation from the Spirit to deny it.

I love verse 14 as well — perfect knowledge, cleanliness, joy, freedom from guilt. Somehow it reminds me of the washing ordinances in the temple.

This chapter is filled with warnings and promises concerning the life to come. Warnings to the proud, the learned, the rich, and the sinful. But also answers — real answers — for those wondering what happens after death.

If someone asked me where to begin reading about resurrection and eternal life in the Book of Mormon, I would point them to 2 Nephi 9.

How blessed we are to have this knowledge. This life is more than survival. It is our opportunity to join the cause of Christ and help bring eternal life to all of God’s children who will receive Him.

And I love Jacob’s simple truth in verse 39:

“To be spiritually-minded is life eternal.”

Spiritual-minded. S.M.I.L.E.

I think I’ll remember that.

After the Manner of Happiness - 2 Nephi 5

Reading The Book of Mormon this morning left me thinking about what truly creates a happy people.

This chapter begins with heartbreak. Nephi and those who believed his words were forced to leave because of the anger and threats of Laman and Lemuel. Families divided. Loved ones left behind. Once again, they entered the wilderness.

And yet the scriptures say:

“We lived after the manner of happiness.”

What made them happy?

The Lord was with them.

They kept their covenants and prospered. They were industrious. Nephi made swords for protection. They built buildings and worked with wood, iron, copper, brass, steel, gold, silver, and precious ores. Even in the wilderness, the Lord provided what they needed.

They also carried reminders of where they had come from — the Liahona, the brass plates, and the sword of Laban. Sacred reminders matter.

They taught.
They worked.
They created.
They built a temple.

That sounds like a people with purpose.

One of the hardest things to watch is someone leave the covenant path. Whether family or friend, there is pain in watching someone step away from light and truth.

Verse 21 has raised many questions over the years. Some scriptorians suggest the “skin of blackness” may refer less to physical appearance and more to spiritual darkness reflected in the countenance. I do not understand everything about these verses, but I do know this: righteousness brings light, and sin brings darkness.

What strikes me most in this chapter is the courage of Nephi’s people. Could I leave my home, neighbors, friends, and everything familiar because God said to go? I did once, but I was young. But wait!

In some ways, isn’t this what senior missionaries do? They willingly leave comfort and routine to serve wherever the Lord sends them. What makes people do that?

Love of God.
Trust in Him.
Faith that He knows the end from the beginning.

As I look back on my life, I cannot think of a single time I followed God’s direction and regretted it. Hard? Yes. Unexpected? Often. But never worse.

I will trust that He hasn't brought me this far to bring me this far.

AWAKE, My Soul!

There is something deeply comforting about Nephi’s Psalm in 2 Nephi 4.

Nephi had seen angels. He had crossed oceans. He had been guided by revelation and preserved by the hand of God again and again. And yet, after all of that, he still cried:

“O wretched man that I am!”

I love that the scriptures leave that in.

Sometimes we think strong faith should eliminate struggle. But Nephi shows us something different. A faithful soul can still feel weary. Even someone who delights in the things of God can feel pulled down by weakness, temptation, sorrow, or disappointment.

As I read this chapter, I realized Nephi’s Psalm is really a sacred song of remembrance.

He remembers:

• God led him through afflictions.
• God preserved him upon the waters.
• God heard his cries.
• Angels ministered unto him.
• God filled him with love.

And then comes the turning point:

“Awake, my soul!”

I can almost hear Nephi preaching to himself.

Stop giving place to despair. Stop lingering in anger and grief. Remember who God is. Remember what He has already done. STOP WHINING!

That cry feels so familiar to me.

As a mother, I believed that if I raised my children in truth, none would wander. Life has not unfolded quite as simply as I imagined. But like Nephi, I trust in the Lord. I believe those who stray can still be drawn home by truth, covenant, and love.

One phrase in this chapter melts my heart:

“O Lord, wilt thou encircle me around in the robe of thy righteousness!”

What a beautiful image!

I know how safe I feel when Clyde wraps his arms around me. How much greater will it be someday to feel encircled in the Savior’s love, completely sheltered in His mercy and righteousness?

Nephi ends where every true Psalm ends — not in despair, but in trust.

“I will trust in thee forever.”

So will I.

A Mother's Pondering

Having trouble focusing this morning. That’s what happens when I exercise before scriptures. I thought of the poem mom use to quote by memory to us when we were little. A little search says “Which Loved Best?” by Joy Allison. I couldn’t keep from trying to replicate it. 

“I love you, Mother,” one daughter says,
With gifts and praise on holidays.
Her words are warm, her arms embrace,
Yet distant grows her faith-filled space
Where once her childhood roots were sown;
She walks a path now all her own.

Another daughter seldom speaks
The tender phrases softness seeks.
“I love you” come with some distress;
Her actions simply speak them best.
Yet in her home faith still abides,
With prayer and scripture at her side.
She mothers well. She honors truth.
Her quiet life becomes her proof.

Another lives so far away,
Beyond the reach of everyday.
Yet pictures, calls, and moments shared
Reveal the love still living there.
Through hand-held screens and miles apart,
She opens her home and shares her heart.

All grown children, different ways,
Different lives and different days.
And mothers learn, as years go by,
Love speaks in more than lullabies.

For some speak warmth in easy streams,
Some sacrifice and serve unseen,
And some hold tight through time and space
With faithful effort, screen to face.

Which loved best? Who truly knows?
Love blooms in ways a mother grows
To recognize with grateful treasure;
All five have brought their mother pleasure.