Hope

The following is the transcription of a talk I gave at church on June 11, 2017. For those unfamiliar, in LDS congregations, the speakers are usually lay members of the congregation, and are invited to speak in advance and assigned a particular topic. The topic assigned to me: Hope. While I did expand my comments in a few places in the spoken delivery of this message, the following is the bulk of the thoughts and impressions I felt God's Spirit prompted me to share:

Elder Vern P Stanfill (70) told of a time he, as an experienced biker, embarked on a trail that included an oppressively dark tunnel, over a mile and a half long. He and his companions had been warned by others who’d ridden the trail before that they would need very strong lights to make it safely through. Brother Stanfill recounts:

"…[W]e pushed forward into the tunnel. After we had ridden only a few minutes, the predicted darkness engulfed us. The lights I brought proved inadequate, and the darkness soon overwhelmed them. Suddenly, I began to feel anxious, confused, and disoriented.

"I was embarrassed to admit my anxieties to my friends and family. Although an experienced cyclist, I now felt as though I had never ridden a bicycle. I struggled to stay upright as my confusion increased. Finally, after I did express my discomfort to those around me, I was able to draw closer to the more powerful light of a friend. …[W]e pushed deeper into the darkness of the tunnel.

"After what seemed like hours, I saw a pinpoint of light. Almost immediately, I began to feel reassured that all would be well. I continued to press forward, relying on both the light of my friends and the growing pinpoint of light. My confidence gradually returned as the light grew in size and intensity. Long before reaching the end of the tunnel, I no longer needed the assistance of my friends. All anxiety disappeared as we pedaled quickly toward the light. I felt calm and reassured even before we rode into the morning full of warmth and splendor."

The topic assigned me today is hope. When I think of hope, I think of clinging to light while pushing through darkness, like Bro. Stanfill’s story demonstrates. I think of light lifting me out of engulfing despair. I think of light overcoming overwhelming anguish. Bro. Stanfill pushed on, with a hope anchored on a pinpoint of light. The scriptures are very clear about what the motivation for our hope should be: “What is it that ye shall hope for? Behold I say unto you that ye shall have hope through the atonement of Christ and the power of his resurrection, to be raised unto life eternal, and this because of your faith in him according to the promise” (Moroni 7:41). Christ and a glorious resurrection are our goal. With vision fixed on that light, we can traverse every dark tunnel of trial.

Zacharias, the father of John the Baptist, exuberantly testified of Jesus Christ, the embodiment of the Lord’s “tender mercy toward us,” declaring: “The dayspring from on high hath visited us, to give light to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet in the path of peace” (Luke 1:79).

The shadow of death has been my ever-present companion now for about 7.5 months. That shadow was cast with my husband’s wholly unexpected death, as most of you know. Since then, every principle of the gospel has become much more salient to me. I confess that before that point in my life, I had thought I had a “Get out of mortality free” card with which I would be spared the major trials of mortality, which I had heard were a necessary part of the plan. I heard that, but I imagined—or rather, hoped—to myself that learning vicariously through others’ experiences would be sufficient in my case. That kind of hope, brothers and sisters, is a false, short-sighted version of the eternal principle of hope the gospel teaches. In fact, ghjk. In Bro. Stanfill’s story, friends told him about the darkness of the tunnel and provided a theoretical understanding of the challenges in front of him, it was not until he experienced the trail for himself that he truly understood—and was able to navigate—the difficult journey. Similarly, before you and I were born, wise, loving companions cautioned us too about the enveloping darkness we would face at times. I’m sure we were told more than once to cultivate adequate light to make it through the tunnels of trials in our lives. It has been said that if we are to have an authentic experience in mortality, we must understand through living and experiencing, not just vicarious observation.

I have never experienced or imagined the magnitude of the pain—the utter heart-rending anguish--I felt when messengers from a rescue team sat me down on my couch and said the words, “We found your husband,” without the comfort of life-affirming words attached. Suddenly, for me, theory turned to reality. Suddenly, I was no longer in my pretended garden of Eden, ignorantly assuming immunity to the very defining features of mortal life—sorrow, pain, trial, and adversity. Suddenly death entered my world—as it had Eve’s. Except when she left the garden, she had her husband. Whose hand would I hold in my lone and dreary wilderness?

Death is not the only situation that brings a need for hope. Some of you have felt the desperate need for comfort, peace, guidance, or just feeling anything at all, due to other losses or challenges. Medical issues, family conflict, relationship challenges, career and financial concerns, mental health issues, spiritual crises—and so many other forms of adversity feel like enveloping darkness at times. Perhaps you, like I, have questioned, “whose hand will I hold?” I testify from my personal experience that it is in these moments of darkest despair that Heavenly Father encourages us to reach out and up to the “light and the life of the world,” even the Lord Jesus Christ. And even if all we can see is a pinpoint of light in the distance, believe in that light and move toward it, because, she or “he that receiveth light, and continueth in God, receiveth more light—and that light groweth brighter and brighter until the perfect day.” That is God’s promise to us.

With faith in that promise, relying on all other witnesses of the Lord’s goodness, “we obtain a hope, and our faith becometh unshaken, insomuch that we truly can command in the name of Jesus and the very trees obey us, or the mountains, or the waves of the sea.” Trees, and mountains, and waves are not the only obstacles we can overcome as we look to the light of the world in faith and allow hope to enter our hearts and grow to be part of us.

I further testify that the Light of the World is not just at the end of the tunnel. Like Bro. Stanfill’s reliance on his friends’ light as he pedaled through darkness, the Lord has provided

lights for us along our personal trails. Elder Mark Bragg (70) identified three primary sources of light which are specially designed to guide you and me individually and collectively through the rigorous journey of mortality: the light of the gospel, the light of the church, and the light of Christ. I think each of these is so effective because they each grant access to “the Holy Ghost, which Comforter filleth with hope and perfect love, which love endureth by diligence unto prayer, until the end shall come when all the saints shall dwell with God” (Moroni 8:26).

I do know that the day will come when “the Sun of righteousness [shall] arise with healing in his wings” (Malachi 4:2) and every loss shall be restored, every tear dried—except those shed in moments of joyful reunion and gratitude. Christ was resurrected. We will be too.

Meanwhile, we have this glorious gospel, this marvelous ward family—and worldwide church family—to accompany us. Sometimes we give light, sometimes we receive light, but always, there is light. Darkness is confusing and anxiety-provoking, but it is only blinding if we close our eyes to the light. Pres. Packer taught, “The Light of Christ is as universal as sunlight itself. Wherever there is human life, there is the Spirit of Christ.”

If we orbit our lives around “the sun of righteousness,” the way the earth orbits around the sun of the sky, I know that we will feel warmth, life, and hope. "The Lord is my light; tho clouds may arise, Faith, stronger than sight, looks up thru the skies, Where Jesus forever in glory doth reign.

Then how can I ever in darkness remain?"

May the hope and light of the Savior illuminate each of the hearts of the members of this ward and all others who seek it is my earnest prayer, which I know will be granted through the exercise of faith.

In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.