I am excited to be here with you today. I am grateful for your participation in this devotional, whether you are here in the I-Center or joining online from across the globe. And thank you, choir, for that beautiful musical number and the spirit it brings to our gathering. It is good to be here.
As a child in the ‘70s, I learned many things: how to ride a bike, jump rope, and write perfect cursive, and that Donny was my favorite Osmond. I also learned to be afraid.
Afternoons spent watching The Brady Bunch flowed into evenings when the nightly news flickered images of far-away wars in Vietnam. A highly publicized kidnapping case caused me great distress, certain I would be the next innocent girl snatched from her home. In school, I learned that teachers like children who are quiet, obedient, and who color in the lines. It was also clear that my worn, little desk with its spindly legs, pencils, carefully colored pictures, and Elmer’s paste would never provide enough protection to keep me safe from a looming nuclear threat.
Summer evenings were filled with neighborhood children gathering under the streetlamp at the end of our cul-de-sac to play night games. While these were often thrillingly scary, they occasionally took a mischievous turn. One evening under the cover of dark, my childhood best friend and I followed our older siblings to the doorstep of a woman who lived nearby. Imagine our surprise when the older kids rang her doorbell and then dashed down the street. Stumbling along behind, not quite sure what had just happened, I remember feeling dread that I was certainly going to get in trouble for this one. And I did. The policeman from my sleepy little town who was dispatched to answer the call found me hiding and crying in my friend’s basement. The officer kept me from a certain life of crime as he described the horrors that befall little girls who are thrown into the slammer. I was effectively scared straight that night, and I have never been tempted to doorbell ditch since.
Another time, I was riding behind my father on his snowmachine as he and several friends and family members adventured in the snow-covered mountains near our home. The group congregated in the bowl of a large, natural basin and my dad thought it would be great fun to climb his sled up the steep slope. Much to my parents’ disappointment, I definitely did not want to go on that ride as the hill looked much too steep and scary. After a bit of fussing on my part, my father conceded, lifted me off the back of the machine, and gunned the sled for the top of the hill. To my relief, all went well with his climb. However, as he crested the rise and turned the machine to head back down, he quickly lost control. From my childhood perspective, my father looked exactly like the characters on Saturday morning cartoons who tumble down a mountain gaining speed, momentum, and snow—all while losing bits and pieces along the way. It was difficult to spot my dad amongst the white powder and flying machine parts as the snowmachine rolled, flipped, and tumbled down the hill. Luckily, he escaped that adventure with only minor injuries, but his machine was not so fortunate. As the snow settled, I looked about the chaotic scene and knew with certainty that my course was best. Danger, accidents, trial, hardship, and trouble must be avoided at all costs.
I became an expert at risk analysis many years before it was introduced in my college business courses. I took the careful, cautious road in all things. However, as I grew, it became obvious my plan was not working; despite my best efforts, trials and hardship managed to come my way either directly or to those I loved. For years, I prayed to have more faith and less fear, and those prayers were answered but not how I expected.
Elder Neal A Maxwell taught, “Because God loves us, there are some particularized challenges that He will deliver to each of us. He will customize the curriculum for each of us in order to teach us the things we most need to know.”[2] Through the trials that were uniquely designed for me, I learned to trust in the Lord. I stand with Nephi as he declared, “O Lord, I have trusted in thee, and I will trust in thee forever.”[3]
One refuge for me through my early journey was my great-grandmother Ivie. I spent many afternoons leaping off her porch, climbing the ancient pine tree next to her home, or burying my face in her springtime lilacs. A favorite activity was hiding away under her lace-draped table, content in my own little world, tinkering with well-worn toys, coloring with broken bits of crayons, and stringing carefully saved buttons to make colorful bracelets and necklaces.
Grandma was the epitome of charity to me and to everyone she met. She loved gently, gracefully, and completely. At that time, my family did not attend church, so I did not know Jesus. But I knew Grandma Ivie, and she knew Jesus. She introduced Him to me by her words and her actions every single day. She was a constant, steady calm—a soothing, comforting, and gentle reminder of goodness in a sometimes scary world. Grandma Ivie’s life was a testament to the Savior. Her example of grace, perseverance, and faith continues to give me courage. I echo the sentiment of the 2,000 stripling warriors:
They had been taught by their mothers, that if they did not doubt, God would deliver them. . . . And they rehearsed . . . the words of their mothers, saying: We do not doubt our mothers knew it.[4]
If you also struggle with fear, please know it is going to be alright. You can do this. You are not helpless, and it is not hopeless. Not even a little bit. You can do hard things because the Lord is at your side and He will bear you up. By Him and through Him, all will be made right and you will overcome.
I have found three practices especially helpful during hard times.
The First is to Gain Perspective
You are a beloved child of Heavenly Parents who know you and are cheering for you. They want you to become like Them. They ache for you when you struggle, but God trusts you and wants you to grow, and you simply cannot grow if you remain in a safe and comfortable place because we do not get stronger by doing easy things. Because God loves you, He allows you to experience all types of trial and tribulations so you can become like Him.
In the midst of our trials, we might be forgiven for thinking that something has gone horribly wrong. Surely, if God loves us, He wants us to feel peace and joy. I experienced many of these thoughts during a particularly difficult time. I was confused and disoriented and desperately afraid. One day as I was studying the scriptures, I stumbled upon a verse I had never before noticed:
Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you:
But rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ’s sufferings; that, when his glory shall be revealed, ye may be glad also with exceeding joy.[5]
This was exactly the reminder I needed. It spoke directly to my heart from the very first word, “beloved.” I was feeling alone and forgotten, yet here I knew the Lord was reaching out to me directly and clearly. He had not forgotten me; He knew my heartache acutely and personally. I felt surrounded by His love. Why was I surprised that a trial, even a fiery trial, was placed before me? I knew this life was a time to be tested, and I also knew the Lord would succor me in my trials.
As I pondered this scripture over time, my perspective began to change from “Why me?” to “Why not me?” Wasn’t I strong enough, brave enough, and faithful enough to navigate my trials with grace and courage and trust in the Savior’s ability and willingness to offer healing and hope?
Sister Michelle D. Craig provides the answer:
When hard times come, I try to remember that I chose to follow Christ before I came to earth and that challenges to my faith, my health, and my endurance are all part of the reason I’m here. And I certainly should never think that today’s trial calls into question God’s love for me or let it turn my faith in Him into doubt. Trials do not mean that the plan is failing; they are part of the plan meant to help me seek God. I become more like Him when I endure patiently, and hopefully, like Him, when in agony, I pray more earnestly.[6]
The Second Practice is to Look for Examples
The scriptures are filled with accounts of God’s children who persevered and overcame their challenges. We are inspired by the patience of Job, the courage of Esther, and the determination of Nephi. Truly, what seems impossible becomes possible when we witness others succeed. You will find examples all around you, and I invite you to look for them—in your classes, your homes, your neighborhoods, and your own family tree.
My great-grandmother Ivie did not become the woman she was by living an easy life. She developed grace, endurance, grit, faith, and never-ending, constant charity by the experiences that shaped and forged her. In 1924, Ivie married Raymond Forrest Nulph. They soon welcomed their first child—my grandmother, Marcella—who was followed quickly by a son. The little family settled in Shelley, Idaho, but their happiness was short lived as Ray developed complications from being gassed in World War I. Grandma Ivie told me of the night Ray passed away. He was in the hospital and knew it was close to the end. He didn’t want Ivie to see him die, so he asked her to leave, saying, “Don’t cry and don’t look back.” She did just that and Ray passed away that night. Ivie suddenly found herself alone—a widow with two small children and a third on the way.
Ivie was devastated, but stoic, as she made the funeral arrangements and buried her husband. However, three months after Ray’s funeral, her little three-year-old Marcella woke in the night whimpering and crying from pain. In her mother’s heart, Ivie knew the cause. Marcella had polio. This was more than Ivie could bear, and she finally broke down in tears from the sorrow and fear. The polio settled in Marcella’s hip and she lost the ability to walk as her muscles deteriorated. Ivie spent many hours massaging and working Marcella’s leg to strengthen the muscles. It was a long and grueling process, but Marcella finally regained the ability to walk several months later. It was the Great Depression and times were hard, but Ivie was able to support her children through her job at the telephone company where she wore roller skates as she connected calls on the massive switchboards.
As a teenager, I sat at my great-grandmother’s feet as she told me her story and I was amazed at her resilience. When I asked her, “Grandma, how did you go on?” she responded with some surprise, “What choice did I have?” I have spent years pondering her answer and wondering if I would have the same faith and determination. Through her trials, Ivie was refined “in the furnace of affliction.”[7] And I want to be just like her.
The Third, and Most Important Practice, is to Turn to the Savior
The scriptures are filled with the Lord’s assurances:
Be of good cheer, and do not fear.[8] Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not.[9] Be strong, fear not; behold your God will come . . . he will come and save you.[10]
With these promises and more, we “trust in the Lord with all [our] heart,”[11] and He keeps His promises. He is anxious to heal, restore, strengthen, forgive, and comfort. He reassures, “I have seen your tears, and I will heal you.”[12] Because He experienced our pains—every one of them—He can and will extend His arm of mercy and healing.
I do not know how the Savior lifts our burdens, only that He does. As we stay on the covenant path and do all in our power to remain close to Him, we can approach the Lord with confidence as we access the healing and strengthening power of His Atonement. A wise friend taught me how she does this during challenging times and I have found this pattern works for me as well.
When the pain is acute and the burden too heavy to bear, pray to Him—with all your might—that He will take it from you, and He will. However, because you are frightened and angry and hurting, you might take it back. You will then realize immediately that it is too heavy. In that moment, pray to Him again to take it from you. And He will. Again, and again, and again, you will repeat this pattern. You will find yourself crying out to the Lord every minute, every hour, every day. Eventually, you will begin to trust Him and you will allow Him to carry your burden just a little longer—five minutes, then ten minutes, and then an hour.
As time goes by and as you let Him lift the burden, you will discover you are still breathing, still showing up, still moving forward. You will realize you have not crumpled or given up or given in to your fears; in fact, you will find moments of happiness. You will learn that “opposition in all things”[13] means ALL things, including painful, difficult, and scary things. In other words, within the depths of your trial, there will be tender mercies of joy, peace, and hope, and you will see it with fresh eyes in beautiful clarity. You will realize—with the Lord’s help—you are far more resilient than you ever imagined.
During a special broadcast devotional in 2018, Elder Jeffrey R. Holland encouraged BYU-Pathway Worldwide employees and students:
You’ve got help. You have divine help. You are able. You are far more able than you think. We are all more able than we think. We’re all capable of infinitely more than we do, and we must not let our fears get in the way of that. But, beyond your own help, beyond your own ability, you have help. We are children of God. We have divinity in us. We have potential and promise and covenants and privilege that we haven’t even begun to tap. There are the legions of heaven that are prepared to help you fulfill that destiny.[14]
At times, trials go on and the burden is heavy and unrelenting. Discouragement and weariness might lead us to believe our prayers are unanswered. We may pray to the Lord for release which does not come. In this week’s devotional discussion board, Seth Ricks shared this insight.
I've found that Christ succors us in three ways, which can be understood if our trials are compared to a mountain. . . . The first way, and the most miraculous from a worldly perspective, is that Christ completely removes the mountain. Sickness and trials are taken away in the very moment. The second way is that He flattens the mountain into a hill. Trials are lessened and made easier so that we may bear them more easily. This can be seen with the people of Alma, whose burdens were eased upon their shoulders in their captivity (Mosiah 24:14). The third way, which allows us to grow the most, is that Christ gives us the strength to climb over the mountain. This is where character is born, and we learn to become more like Christ.[15]
I agree with Seth; it is true that sometimes the Savior delivers, but other times He offers gifts of strength, healing, comfort, and restoration.
As you turn your trials over to the Lord, your heart will change—you will change. You will become more patient and charitable. You will be more likely to notice others who are experiencing trials themselves, and you will desire to encourage, lift, and serve. When you embrace the Savior’s grace, forgiveness will come for yourself and for those who may have hurt you. You will begin to see the abundance and goodness and mercy He has poured upon you, and you will be filled with gratitude. These blessings and so many more will come as a result of your challenges in mortality. As President Thomas S. Monson said:
Difficulties allow us to change for the better, to rebuild our lives in the way our Heavenly Father teaches us, and to become something different from what we were—better than we were, more understanding than we were, more empathetic than we were.[16] We are divine children of Heavenly Parents, and we have a Savior who knows and loves us. Last week, Elder Kazuhiko Yamashita reminded us, “Jesus knows us by our names. He knows our challenges, our suffering, our weaknesses, and our strengths.”[17]
Although I did not know Jesus when I was a child, I know Him now. I know as we give our trials to the Lord, He will take them again and again, as often as necessary, with complete patience and love. He keeps His promises. Strength and comfort and healing will come. He will run to the rescue to succor us—as many times as it takes—until we are safely home. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
Notes
[1] Isaiah 41:10.
[2] Neal A. Maxwell, “But for a Small Moment,” BYU Speeches, Sept. 1, 1974.
[3] 2 Nephi 4:34.
[4] Alma 56:47–48.
[5] 1 Peter 4:12–13.
[6] Michelle D. Craig, “Wholehearted,” Liahona, Nov. 2022.
[7] 1 Nephi 20:10.
[8] Doctrine and Covenants 68:5–6.
[9] Doctrine and Covenants 6:36.
[10] Isaiah 35:4.
[11] Proverbs 3:5–6.
[12] 2 Kings 20:5.
[13] 2 Nephi 2:11.
[14] Jeffrey R. Holland, “BYU-Pathway Worldwide Devotional Special Broadcast,” Nov. 1, 2018.
[15] Seth Ricks, BYU-Idaho Devotional Discussion Board, Nov. 8, 2022.
[16] Thomas S. Monson, “I Will Not Fail Thee, nor Forsake Thee,” Ensign, Nov. 2013.
[17] Kazuhiko Yamashita, “Wrestle Before God in Prayer,” BYU-Idaho Devotional, Nov. 8, 2022.