Agency - A Gift!

 Lehi’s counsel in 2 Nephi 2 is filled with profound truths about agency, repentance, and the purpose of our time on earth.

One phrase that stood out to me was when Lehi told Jacob that his afflictions would be “for thy gain.” That is comforting. The wilderness was hard, but Jacob had eyes to see God’s hand even in suffering. What a gift.

Another truth quietly tucked into this chapter is that “the Spirit is the same, yesterday, today, and forever.” God’s purposes do not change with the times. The world changes constantly. Truth does not.

Then comes one of the great doctrinal pillars of the gospel: there must be “opposition in all things.” Why? Because agency matters that much.

Our Father in Heaven wanted us to choose. That gift of choice was so essential that He gave His Only Begotten Son to redeem us when we choose wrongly. Agency, repentance, and forgiveness and the opportunity to keep trying until we get it right, are all tied together. Without agency, there would be no purpose in mortality.

That thought led me to verse 21. After Adam and Eve were cast out of the Garden, their days were “prolonged” so they could repent while in the flesh. Time itself became a gift.

I found myself thinking about Matthew 24:22: “For the elect’s sake those days shall be shortened.” Ancient people often lived for centuries. Their days were prolonged in mercy. Today, life feels very different. The years move quickly. Maybe part of that shortening is mercy too — protection from the increasing wickedness of the world around us.

Either way, the purpose of time remains the same: repentance, growth, and choosing God.

Then comes one of the most quoted verses in scripture: “Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy.”

Not just survival. Not merely endurance. Joy.

That doesn’t mean life is easy. Some people enter mortality carrying tremendous burdens from the very first breath. But joy is still possible because of Jesus Christ. Sometimes joy is not found in the abundance. Sometimes it is simply waking up to another day of opportunity and grace.

I’ve come to believe that joy in life is deeply connected to our focus in life. When Jesus Christ becomes the focus of our lives, the world feels different. Brighter. More hopeful. More purposeful.

And once again, agency is at the center of it all.

Lehi shared these truths as he approached the end of his life. That alone teaches me something. Near the end of his days, he spoke about choices, redemption, repentance, and joy. Those are the things that mattered most. Maybe they should matter most to me too.

Faithful, Consecrated and Manly

Reading 2 Nephi 1 feels sacred. These are Lehi’s final words before his death, and you can feel the urgency in them.

Verse 7 stopped me cold. Do we fully understand how blessed we are to live in a land consecrated by the Lord? Consecrated means set apart for holy purposes. I believe one of those purposes is to gather God’s children back to Him.

Lehi teaches that this land was consecrated for those who serve the Lord and keep His commandments. A land of liberty. A land protected by covenant.

One phrase especially stood out to me: the Lord had “given them to do all things by faith.”

The history of the restored gospel is proof of that. The translation of the plates, the organization of the Church, the persecution, the trek west, and the building of Zion in the desert — all accomplished by faith.

Lehi repeatedly tells his family to remember. Remember the trials. Remember the rescues. Remember the hand of the Lord.

Then comes the warning: “Awake from a deep sleep.”

That feels painfully relevant today. Spiritual sleep can come from comfort, distraction, and forgetting God’s blessings. But spiritual awakening is real. I can testify of that.

At the end of the chapter, Lehi describes what a righteous man looks like:

• United in righteousness
• Wearing the armor of God
• Shaking off chains of sin
• Following the prophet
• Becoming an instrument in God’s hands
• Seeking God’s glory instead of his own
• Caring about the eternal welfare of others

Lehi’s final message is simple: Keep the commandments of the Lord.

When we do, we will see His hand in our lives. And when you begin to recognize His hand, life becomes beautiful, empowering, and full of purpose.

Am I Making Room? Even when. Even then.

NOTE: Thoughts from 1 Nephi 21 - For some reason, my new computer and Blogger were not compatible. I don't know what changed, but I'm thankful to have a place to save my thoughts from reading.

There’s a question in Isaiah that feels almost too honest:

Can someone really be rescued once they’re already taken?
What about those who seem lost for good?

I’ve felt that question.

When something slips—
when people drift,
when faith feels thinner than it used to—
it’s easy to believe there isn’t a way back.

Isaiah doesn’t brush that aside.
He asks it out loud.

But he doesn’t leave it unanswered.

Yes. Even then.

Even when the hold seems strong.
Even when the loss feels real.
Even when it looks final.

God doesn’t step back.
He steps in.

He gathers.
He restores.
He takes back what felt gone.

And then—this part catches me—

Not only are people brought back…
there are so many that it feels crowded.

“Make room,” they say.
“There isn’t enough space.”

What once felt empty becomes full.
What once felt finished wasn’t.

Even what seemed powerful—
what held tight—
doesn’t last.

It gives way.

And in the end, what remains is simple and unmistakable:

He is the Savior.
He is the Redeemer.

Not in theory—
but right in the places that felt the most beyond reach.

So maybe the question isn’t:

“Is this too far gone?”

Maybe it’s:

“Am I making room for what God is still bringing back?”

Second Coming and Fire

1 Nephi 22 — Notes & Reflections

Nephi teaches that prophets know and teach by the Spirit. If that is true, then living prophets are not simply wise leaders — they are watchmen who see farther than we do. That thought struck me in 2022 regarding President Nelson and feels equally true now with President Oaks.

President Nelson repeatedly called us to:

• Hear Him
• Let God prevail
• Gather Israel
• Do better
• Follow the prophet
• Join the battalion
• Move forward with faith

President Oaks’ counsel continues that same pattern of preparation and spiritual steadiness. His teachings so far emphasize:

• Drawing closer to Christ
• Seeking the Holy Ghost daily
• Staying anchored in covenants
• Being peacemakers rather than combatants
• Strengthening family and home
• Defending truth with both conviction and love
• Remaining calm and faithful in a noisy and divided world

His message feels less about programs and more about personal discipleship, spiritual stability, and enduring faith.

Verse 10 points to the Restoration and the coming forth of the Book of Mormon — truly a “marvelous work and a wonder.” What could be of greater worth to the children of men?

The gathering of Israel is happening in remarkable ways:

• missionary work throughout the world,
• humanitarian efforts in struggling nations,
• Helping Hands service,
• disaster relief,
• and temple and family history work reaching descendants of Lehi and all nations.

Verse 13 warns that nations who fight against God and righteousness eventually destroy themselves. That feels increasingly relevant in today’s world turmoil and conflict.

Verse 17 has always caught my attention:

“They shall be saved, even if it so be as by fire.”

Perhaps the fire represents purification rather than destruction. The righteous are not always spared from trial, but they are preserved through it. God refines covenant people the way fire refines gold.

So what?
Carry on. Lift where I stand. Help build the Kingdom of God and participate in the gathering of Israel. Be a little more proactive in family history work. Stay rooted in Christ and move forward with faith.

Don't Leave Babylon Quietly

 1 Nephi 20 (Isaiah 48) isn’t written to outsiders.

It’s written to people who belong.

“They call themselves of the holy city… but not in truth, nor in righteousness.”

They carried the name.
They knew who they were.

But they weren’t anchored.

And that question lingers:

Do I belong… but drift?

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God’s answer is simple:

“Look back.”

Look at what I said.
Look at what I did.

God proves Himself by what He said—and then did.

If I would notice the former things,
I might trust Him with what’s in front of me now.

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Then comes the ache:

“O that thou hadst hearkened… then had thy peace been as a river.”

A river—steady, moving, strong.

Not chaotic.
Not stagnant.

Peace isn’t found in controlling life.
It comes from listening to Him in the middle of it.

---

And then the call:

“Go ye forth of Babylon… declare… say, The Lord hath redeemed…”

Don’t leave quietly.

Say it.
Sing it.

So I make it personal:

Go forth, Connie.
Leave what pulled you away.
Don’t tiptoe out—sing your way out.

I wasn’t just rescued.

I was led out—and redeemed.

---

We don’t just belong to Him.
We’re meant to be anchored in Him.

And when we are—

life begins to move like a river:
steady… strong… at peace.

---

Parting line:

Don’t leave Babylon quietly—sing your redemption all the way out.

Known by Name

Known by Name

I love reading conference talks. This morning, Elder Clement M. Matswagothata reminded me of something deeply personal: I am known—by name—by my Savior and by my Heavenly Father.

That thought alone should change how I take the sacrament.

He will guide me through every season of life—including this one. Not a season of doubt in Him, but a season of learning how to love and support the next generation without overstepping. Where is the line between helping and hovering? Between lifting and meddling?

Because He knows me.

He knows my joy and my sorrow. My burdens. My silent tears. My anxieties, my prayers, my loneliness, my grief. He knows how to heal a broken heart—my broken heart.

And if I am His disciple, then I have work to do.

Notice. Reach out. Lift.

I try. I really do. But I can do better—especially in learning how to do that with care. Sometimes love steps in. Sometimes love steps back. That takes discernment, and I need His help with that.

There was a line that stayed with me: “There is someone praying for you.”

My mind wandered.

I know Clyde prays for me—I hear him, and it is a great comfort to me. I pray for others, too. But beyond that… I’m not sure. I would hope my children.

And maybe that’s where my responsibility becomes clear—not to manage their lives, but to quietly cover them in prayer. To trust that the Savior, who knows them by name just as He knows me, is far better at guiding them than I am.

Maybe the question isn’t, “Who is taking care of them?”

Maybe it’s, “Do I trust the One who loves them most?”

And maybe this is where I learn to truly walk with Him.

Not wondering if He walks with me—He does.

But choosing, daily, to walk with Him.

To trust Him more. To minister with sensitivity. To love without control.

Because I am bound to Him through covenant.

Because He is the Prince of Peace.

And that should mean something.

Sometimes the holiest love is the kind that lets go—and keeps praying.

When the Liahona Stops Working — 1 Nephi 18

Lehi and his family have finished the ship — and it was good. They had done something remarkable, something they could never have done without the Lord. They loaded their provisions and set sail, guided by the Liahona.

And for a time, it worked beautifully.

But it didn’t take long. Idle hearts drifted. Focus shifted. What began as a sacred journey turned noisy, careless—even rebellious. And then the unthinkable: Nephi was bound, and the Liahona stopped working.

How do we forget so quickly?

How do we go from seeing the Lord’s hand so clearly… to living as if it was never there?

The pattern is almost painfully simple: when we turn from the Lord, the guidance stops. Not because He abandons us—but because we stop listening.

I’ve watched this happen so many times, it’s hard not to see. First, we’re  anchored—steady, faithful, seeing the Lord’s hand. And then, we let that anchor slip. Life hit harder than expected. Loss, pressure, competing voices. And slowly, almost imperceptibly, the direction fades.

It’s easy to ask, What changed?

But maybe the better question is, What stopped?

The Liahona didn’t fail. It never does.

Our lives aren’t so different from that ship. We’ve seen miracles. We’ve felt direction. We’ve known truth. But staying on course requires more than a moment of faith—it requires constancy; it requires resilience.

Our “Liahona” is still here: the Spirit, the words of prophets (old and new), the quiet reminders we feel when we choose to listen. When we heed them, we are led. When we don’t, things go still.

And sometimes… painfully still. Actually, “still” wouldn’t be the worst thing, but our world starts to unravel, the noise gets in the way of the stillness. We can’t hear the Spirit. We can’t feel.

So what do we do when we see this happening to someone we love?

We wait.

We pray.

We trust the same God who guided the ship can guide them back.

Because He can. 

The Liahona never stopped working—only the listening did.