I believe Alma 5 may be my favorite chapter—or at least one of them. It reads like a personal interview, with questions meant not for the crowd, but for the soul. Each one asks: How would you answer this?
Verse 7 stops me every time. A change of heart brings a change in countenance. I lived that. In 1977, people at work began asking if I’d cut my hair or lost weight. Something was different, and they wanted to know what it was. I knew. I was being changed—from the inside out. It was real, and it was visible. Never do I want to drift anywhere near the darkness that once defined my daily life. However busy discipleship may feel, I will take this light over that former hell without hesitation.
Was I destroyed? No. Instead, in His kindness, the Lord sent angels into my life to teach me of His plan—of Him—in ways I don’t remember learning in my youth. They taught me repentance and forgiveness. They showed me, by example, what life could look like with a course correction. I hungered for it. I was a dry sponge soaking up everything about Jesus, and I loved what I was learning.
Verse 9 asks whether the bands of death were broken. For me, they were—almost immediately, as quickly as I was willing to let them go. Those bands were habits and patterns that weighed me down and kept me from enjoying the sanctifying power of the Savior’s Atonement. Letting go created space to move toward Him.
And yes—every day of my life. I wake up with music in my head. I have sung the songs of redeeming love for more than 48 years. That line from Alma isn’t poetic exaggeration; it’s lived experience.
Alma closes chapter 5 with this invitation: “Come and be baptized unto repentance, that ye also may be partakers of the fruit of the tree of life.” I echo his call. Wouldn’t you love to have been in the congregation when Alma spoke these words?
Chapter 7 is just as rich. Verse 3 uses a phrase that stopped me: “supplicating of his grace.” To me, that means asking daily for His grace—His love, His forgiveness. We are imperfect beings living in a fallen world. Of course we need these things, and of course we should include them in our prayers.
Alma calls the people of Gideon to repent and be born again. I experienced that. Looking back now, it doesn’t feel dramatic—but it was a very big deal to me. Confessing sins, releasing old habits, and replacing them with new ones was hard work. What makes it feel smaller in hindsight is this: every new habit brought peace and happiness that outweighed the difficulty. I am profoundly grateful for the Savior’s Atonement and how it rescued me from a world of darkness. I will never forget.
Verse 20 reminds us that Christ’s path is one eternal round. He does not dwell in unholy temples—and that includes us. Each week we promise to live so that we may always have His Spirit to be with us. Do I live worthy of that blessing? Do I walk blameless before Him? I try. It is a constant effort, a daily choosing not to cross lines—many of which I’ve drawn deliberately in my own heart.
And then there’s verse 23—an entire checklist of Christlike attributes: humble, submissive, gentle, patient, temperate, diligent, grateful, full of faith, hope, and charity. If we do these things, Alma promises, we will always abound in good works. Our works will be good.
Finally, verse 27 offers a beautiful apostolic blessing—peace, prosperity, family, and protection—given according to faith and good works. I’ve been present when apostles have given such blessings, and there is power in them. This is a blessing worth living for.
Maybe this is the gift of Alma’s words: they don’t leave us judged, but invited—again and again—to choose the light.
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