The Light, The Effort, and the Angels

Today, on Palm Sunday, I spent time in Moroni 7. It was a slow, intentional read as I followed footnotes and revisited past impressions.

 

Verses 16–17 took me back years ago when at Girls’ Camp I memorized them to the tune of “Choose the Right.” It was a stretch, but it worked—and this morning, the melody brought both the words and their impact rushing back. Music has a way of tucking truth into the heart.

 

Those verses teach that we are all born with the Spirit of Christ.

 

That can be hard to remember when we see others so far off course. But it is a beautiful doctrine. It softens how we see people and invites patience and kindness. When we remember that each person carries that divine light—even if dimmed—it becomes easier to respond as the Savior would.

 

We are told to judge by that light.

 

Perhaps that means learning to see others through His lens—and through the love of our Heavenly Father.

 

In our Old Testament study, Enoch’s vision in Moses 7 has stayed with me—especially the moment he sees God weep.

 

A weeping God.

 

It reminds me that Heaven is not distant. Heavenly Father feels deeply. He mourns when we wander.

 

For a moment, I wondered if the heavens respond to the sorrow of a wicked world, especially as we pray for relief from drought. Probably not the right way to see it—but it did remind me of something true:

 

Heaven is not indifferent. It rains on the just and the unjust alike.

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Moroni 7:33 also stood out:

 

“If ye will have faith in me ye shall have power to do whatsoever thing is expedient in me.”

 

That word—expedient—has stayed with me. I’ve been working to memorize temple ordinances so I can serve without distraction. I study and practice, yet sometimes it feels just out of reach.

 

But the Lord sees the effort.

 

With faith in Him, He will help me do what is required—sufficiently, and in His time.

 

A simple choir experience came to mind.

 

We were invited to pray for angels to join us as we sang—and even to invite loved ones. I did.

 

I didn’t feel what I expected at first. But during “Joy to the World,” the Spirit filled the room. It felt as if heaven and earth sang together.

 

In that moment, I knew:

 

Angels have not ceased to appear.

 

Sometimes they come quietly. Sometimes through feeling. And sometimes—through song.

 

Moroni 7 teaches this plainly:

 

Faith brings hope.

 

And when faith fades, hope is right behind it.

 

I’ve seen that. It’s heartbreaking. But the remedy is clear: choose faith, act in faith, hold to faith.

 

Because from faith comes hope—and from hope comes everything that leads us back to Him.

This Palm Sunday, I’m holding onto this:

 

We are not alone in our efforts.

Not in our striving.
Not in our learning.
Not even in our singing.

 

Heaven is closer than we think.