Let God Be Your Pilot

This morning I found myself lingering in Genesis 45, reading the reunion of Joseph and his brothers. Every time I return to this story, I see something new.

In Genesis 45:7–8, Joseph tells his brothers that God sent him ahead to preserve life. After everything they had done to him, Joseph doesn’t cling to bitterness. He sees the hand of the Lord in his life and forgives. That alone is a powerful lesson. We, too, must be diligent in recognizing God’s hand — especially when life doesn’t unfold according to our plans.

As Joseph urges his brothers to “come down unto me,” he speaks not only of them, but of their children and their children’s children. That caught my attention. Isn’t this what Christ calls us to do? Come unto Him — and bring our families with us. Not just ourselves, but our posterity. What a beautiful parallel.

Joseph promises to nourish them. And again, I see the Savior here. Christ nourishes us like no other. Spiritually, emotionally, eternally — He provides what we cannot provide for ourselves.

Then Joseph falls upon Benjamin’s neck and weeps. I can’t help but imagine the day we fall into the arms of our Savior. I suspect there will be plenty of tears then too. Perhaps our first thought will be something like: I made it.

Later, in verse 20, Joseph tells his brothers not to worry about their possessions: “The good of all the land of Egypt is yours.” Another symbol emerges. Joseph gives them all that he has. And isn’t that what God promises? That all He has may become ours, if we are faithful and follow His commandments.

As I continued into Genesis 47, I noticed something I had never fully digested before — how the Israelites eventually became servants to Pharaoh. It didn’t happen all at once. They gave money for food. When money ran out, they gave their herds. When that was gone, they gave their land. Finally, they gave themselves. Step by step, small decisions led to a future they may never have foreseen.

That led me to a personal takeaway: our decisions matter — not only for us, but for generations after us. It doesn’t take long to see how one choice affects another, and how patterns ripple down through families.

So my reminder to myself today is simple: be careful with life-changing decisions. Be prayerful. Let the Lord guide the truly important ones. He knows the end from the beginning. He knows who we are and what we can become. Let God be the pilot.

Because little decisions grow into bigger ones. Choose your influences and your company with care. Keep the Lord in your thoughts. Turning to Him truly makes all the difference.

And somehow, in the middle of Joseph’s story, I found my own.

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Pure Doctrine from 2 Nephi Chapters 1&2

Some chapters in the Book of Mormon feel especially dense with doctrine. For me, 2 Nephi 1 and 2 are among them — rich, layered, and deeply personal.

One of my favorite verses sits in 2 Nephi 1:15. Lehi speaks of being redeemed — of seeing the Lord’s hand in his deliverance. I love that image because I’ve experienced it. I have seen how perfectly the Lord planned my own rescue. It gives me hope for anyone who struggles with testimony or even with believing that Jesus is real. He is real. Turn to Him. He will not disappoint.

The price of that deliverance is simple and clear: keep His commandments (v.16). A small price for such a priceless gift.

Lehi continues with a promise repeated throughout the Book of Mormon:
“Inasmuch as ye shall keep my commandments ye shall prosper in the land.” (2 Nephi 1:20)

So what does it mean to prosper? To me, it means living in the Lord’s presence. His presence gives me strength to do the things that bring true joy. I cannot afford to wander on my own. I need His guidance every day. For that knowledge, I am deeply grateful. Keep the commandments — and keep the Lord close.

Lehi then describes what a faithful disciple looks like. I can’t help but see a portrait of a “real man” of God:

• United as one
• Clothed in the armor of righteousness
• Shaking off chains of iniquity
• Coming out of darkness and into engaged discipleship
• Becoming an instrument in God’s hands
• Seeking God’s glory and the welfare of His children
• Speaking with the power of God

What a blueprint.

I also have a tender place in my heart for Zoram. He left everything familiar and stepped into a world unknown. I’ve done that too. And just as Zoram was led and blessed, I have felt the Lord’s hand guiding my journey every step of the way.

Then comes one of my favorite doctrines:
“There must needs be an opposition in all things.” (2 Nephi 2:11)

Opposition strengthens us. It refines us. It teaches us joy by contrast.

As I read 2 Nephi 2:21, a new thought struck me. Lehi teaches that the days of mankind were prolonged so we could repent — that this life is a probationary state, a precious extension of time granted by God.

Then my mind jumped to Matthew 24:22, where Jesus teaches that in the last days, time will be shortened for the elect’s sake.

Two scriptures. Both about time.

Matthew quotes Jesus as he speaks of time being mercifully extended to allow repentance. Lehi prophecies of time being compressed as the end draws near.

Today, we feel that compression. Days race by. Life feels urgent. The world accelerates. It makes me wonder if this too is a sign that we are nearing our Savior’s return.

We see wars and rumors of wars. Unstable weather. Unstable leaders. The gathering of Israel happening right before our eyes. Even population shifts feel like gathering patterns. Whether large or small, the world is being prepared for Him.

And in the middle of all of it comes this beloved verse — an explanation for all of it:

“Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy.” (2 Nephi 2:25)

Joy. The whole purpose. The whole promise.

Lehi reminds us that we are free to choose (v.27). Free to walk toward Christ or away from Him. And Lehi tells us exactly why he recorded these words:

“…for the everlasting welfare of your souls.” (2 Nephi 2:30)

I love Lehi. I love his testimony. And I’m grateful he shared these truths — not just with his children, but with me.

A Potpourri of Thoughts

 

“The Lord Did Suffer It”

While reading 1 Nephi 18, one small phrase stopped me cold:
“The Lord did suffer it.” (v. 11)

God did not intervene when Nephi—a faithful, obedient, remarkable son—was bound, abused, and nearly killed by his brothers. That raises the obvious question: Where is God in this story?

The answer is: everywhere.

God had already given them the Liahona to guide them to the promised land. But once Nephi was bound, it no longer worked. The winds drove the ship backward, not forward. Chaos replaced progress. And on the fourth day, the storm became so violent that destruction seemed certain.

Only then did Laman and Lemuel loosen Nephi’s bands.

What happens next is astonishing. Nephi does not rebuke them. He does not demand authority. He praises the Lord all day long. When freed, he takes hold of the Liahona, the winds cease, and they are carried—without further incident—to the promised land.

What an example.

It makes me ask myself: when I finally come out on the other side of a trial, do I thank God—not only for the rescue, but for the experience itself? For the chance to see His hand more clearly?

I know I could do better. Still, I cannot deny that I have seen the Lord’s hand in my story—especially in delivering me from the evil that once held me captive.

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The Storm Was Shared

One detail in this story has always troubled me. The storm belonged to everyone on the ship—Lehi and Sariah, Ishmael’s family, wives and children—many of whom were innocent. Nephi’s parents were old and sickened nearly to death. His wife and children suffered too.

Why couldn’t the goodness of so many outweigh the rebellion of two and a few of their followers?

The sobering answer is this: evil can be astonishingly stubborn—and astonishingly dumb. It wasn’t persuasion, compassion, or suffering that softened Laman and Lemuel’s hearts. It was the fear of utter destruction.

Brad Wilcox once compared this moment to the fourth watch—that final, desperate stretch when all seems lost. Only then were the bands loosed. Only then was Nephi allowed to lead.

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Nephi and the Prophets

As I moved into 1 Nephi 19, another thought emerged.

Nephi knew the prophets. Not casually—deeply. The scriptures were not just stories to him; they were his personal library. He quoted them because he lived with them.

I’ve watched presenters on podcasts who speak of Old and New Testament prophets as though they know them personally. That doesn’t happen by accident. It takes time. Immersion. Love.

Nephi had access to the books of Moses (v. 23). He had Isaiah. He had invested the time.

Am I willing to do the same?

I want to understand as I read—but life feels crowded. Still, Nephi reminds me that familiarity with holy words doesn’t come quickly. It comes deliberately.

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“Go Forth”

Then came 1 Nephi 20:20, and suddenly the verse felt personal:

Go forth… flee from the evil… with a voice of singing declare ye… say ye: The Lord hath redeemed me.

If I rewrote it, it would say:
Go forth, Connie.

That is my story. I was saved from evil. I have been singing ever since. And I do tell anyone who will listen about the miracle of redemption in my life.

There is not a day that passes without gratitude.

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So… What?

Some phrases in the next chapter settled deep into me:

• Peace as a river

• Righteousness as the waves of the sea

• Leadeth thee by the way

• Come ye near unto me

• God does not speak in secret

• The furnace of affliction

• His anger is deferred—for His name’s sake

These phrases may not mean the same thing to everyone. But they mean something to me.

I have been blessed with peace. I have been surrounded—like waves—by good people who stretch and strengthen me. I have known the furnace of affliction. And I know, without question, that God deferred His anger and called me back.

Is this what the chapter was “intended” to teach?

Maybe. Maybe not.

But when scripture strikes a nerve—when it speaks directly into lived experience—that has to mean something.

At least, I believe it does.

Asking, Complaining, and Cutting Corners

Book of Mormon Reading: 1 Nephi 15–17

Today’s reading took me through 1 Nephi 15–17, where Nephi is speaking with his brothers. They don’t understand the things their father, Lehi, has taught them. Nephi’s response is simple—almost startlingly so: “Have ye inquired of the Lord?” (1 Nephi 15:8).

What a simple thing. And yet, why is it so hard to remember?

When we don’t understand, we are invited to ask God. That same invitation was what led Joseph Smith to his prayer after reading James 1:5: “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God…” That prayer led him to the Restoration of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The Lord is the same yesterday, today, and forever. This counsel wasn’t just for Nephi’s brothers or for Joseph Smith—it is for us.

And yet, so often we get stuck in our lack of understanding instead of moving forward by asking.

Another thing that stood out to me was the complaining. Ugh. Nephi’s brothers complained, and even Lehi complained when Nephi’s bow broke. Why is this one so hard? I pray daily to be rid of this sin, because complaining does absolutely no good. It adds nothing. It has no value.

Verse 28 makes it clear that complaining interferes with revelation. The Liahona worked only “according to the faith and diligence and heed which we did give unto them.” The pointers; the direction they should go to get to where they were headed. Revelation works the same way. If we stop paying attention to the promptings we receive through the Spirit, eventually we stop receiving them. The "pointer" is inactive.

I was also stopped short by the phrase that the pointers on the Liahona would change “from time to time.” Isn’t that exactly how scripture study works? Every time I read the Book of Mormon, I see it from a different lens. I’m older now—hopefully wiser, though not always—and sometimes I need correcting in ways I didn’t recognize before. This isn’t unique to me; we hear it spoken of in General Conference regularly. The scriptures don’t change, but we do.

And then there was another lesson this morning—one that may be the most uncomfortable for me, because I am so guilty today.

Yesterday was a long day. We left the house at 10:15 a.m. and didn’t return until 7:00 p.m. I was determined to make the day “count,” as I was driving around. So, I listened to the scriptures while driving, thinking I could cover all my reading for the day. Big mistake!

This morning, I paid for that shortcut.

As I sat down to read, I had a complete stupor of thought—both in the Book of Mormon and the Old Testament. I couldn’t remember where I had left off or even what I had been reading. Really? That was the lesson. There is no shortcut to scripture study. People who get something out of reading the Book of Mormon are actually reading, pondering, and learning.

[sigh]

I went back to the table, opened my scriptures, and started again where I had left off. Maybe I’m different, but I can’t cut corners. I was reprimanded. Lessons were taught. And I know better now.

I will do it the right way.

Reading with Questions and Hope

In Moses 1, God the Father speaks with Moses face to face, declares His Only Begotten, and shows Moses the earth—and all its people. Moses also encounters Satan, who has no glory. I find myself wondering whether this sweeping vision hints at what the earth may someday become after it is changed into a Urim and Thummim. I don’t know the answer, but the question stays with me. The main point of this encounter was to let Moses know he was part of the Lord's plan and that he is a son of God. This came in handy when Satan tried to tempt Moses to worship him. He had NO glory.

As I read Moses 2, I slowed down, unsure at times whether the “God” speaking is the Father or the Son. We’re told the Only Begotten was with Him, and that man was created in the image of both. All things were created spiritually before they were created physically. Adam names the animals before Eve is given to him—whom he also names. Familiar temple language appears here, and reading it carefully, at my own pace, felt like a quiet blessing.

After Fast and Testimony meeting yesterday, I felt impressed to read the Book of Mormon more quickly than I ever have. I’ve set a goal to read it in three months or less. I started in 1 Nephi 4 and am already enjoying the continuity of the record.

Lehi’s vision of the Tree of Life gives me hope. Despite the wandering hearts of some of my children, I’m reminded that the Lord knows all things from beginning to end. My work is to love my family and keep the covenants I’ve made. The rest is in His hands (see 1 Nephi 11:17).

I reflected today on my role as a mother and grandmother. I did the best I knew how with what I had. Some of my children and grandchildren don’t yet understand who they are or why they are here. Still, I trust that the Lord knows them. When the time is right, they will ask the right question—and God will answer them in a language they understand.

1 Nephi 3:7 I Will Go and Do

Some days my Old Testament reading doesn’t give me much to sit with. Sometimes it’s because of traditions I don’t yet understand, and instead of forcing meaning, I move on. That’s what I did today. 

I picked up the Book of Mormon and started with 1 Nephi 3—and it felt steadier, familiar, grounding.

Nephi’s response to a hard command has always resonated with me. Even knowing the journey back to Jerusalem would be long and dangerous, he doesn’t hesitate. He simply trusts that if the Lord gives a commandment, a way will be prepared to accomplish it. That kind of faith matters when we’re asked to do difficult things.

The journey itself wasn’t small. It took days. So what was so important that the Lord would require it?

The plates preserved genealogy, language, and the words of prophets—records meant not just for Lehi’s family, but for generations that would follow. Even after failure and discouragement, the task remained essential.

This chapter also reminds me that families are complicated. Nephi and Sam are beaten by their own brothers. An angel intervenes—not to smooth things over, but to correct and redirect. Families have always been messy. Mine certainly is. Yet the Book of Mormon consistently shows how deeply families matter to the Lord.

In fact, the book ends with a father and son—Mormon passing the records to Moroni, offering counsel and care. That’s what families do. We pass things on. Stories. Faith. Sacrifice. Hope. Isn’t that the heart of genealogy—helping those who come after us know where they came from and why it mattered?

I feel grateful to live in a time when we have this record. Through it, we learn of Jesus Christ’s ministry beyond Jerusalem and of a gospel that has been restored in fullness. I’m especially grateful for moments when truth touches the rising generation in quiet ways—especially my granddaughter, who was deeply moved by the majesty of the mountain she took the time to see. There is something about ascent that stills us, lifts our eyes, and teaches without words.

If I have any simple counsel for my children and grandchildren, it would be this: read the Book of Mormon. Let it speak for itself. It teaches who we are, why we’re here, and where we’re going.

I love my family deeply. They are precious to me, and I know they are precious to Heavenly Father. He paid the ultimate price so they could return to Him. Shouldn’t we try to understand why?

That understanding begins in the Book of Mormon.

(see 1 Nephi 3:7) 

I will go and do the things the Lord commands, for I too know He gives no commandments that are not for our good. 

Jacob’s Ladder and Our Covenants

Genesis 28–31

As I read these chapters, I saw what I was looking for: I heard the voice of Jesus Christ. The promises given to Jacob feel deeply familiar. They are the Abrahamic covenant—posterity, priesthood, land, and the Lord’s presence—the same eternal promises we receive through temple and sealing covenants today.

Jacob’s dream of a ladder reaching heaven feels like a temple image. Heaven and earth connected. Angels ascending and descending. A gate back to our Heavenly Father. When Jacob awakens, he recognizes the land as sacred and vows to worship God and give a tenth of all he receives (Genesis 28:22). Worship, tithing, consecration—these are temple covenants.

What follows in Jacob’s life is complicated and, at times, uncomfortable to read. Love, deception, long years of service, rivalry, and customs very different from our own. Yet through all of it, the Lord is still at work. Out of imperfect people and imperfect choices came the twelve tribes of Israel. God moved His eternal purposes forward anyway.

Later, when Jacob and Laban make a covenant of peace, they mark it with a pillar of stones, a visible witness that God would watch over their promise (Genesis 31:44–49). That detail stands out to me. Covenants matter. They are remembered. And the Lord watches over them—“for the Lord God watcheth over all his people” (Alma 5:16).

So how do I see the Lord in this story?

I see a merciful Father, patient with His children, working with what He has—because that is all He has ever had. His children stumble. His covenants do not.

I testify that Jesus Christ is the God of the Old Testament and the Savior of our day. He keeps His promises. He honors covenants. And He is always preparing a way back home.