I was wiping off the last of the flour from my counter top, hoping my kind-of-clean clorox wipe wouldn’t leave streak marks.
I’ve been thoughtful today. Thoughtful about all the things going on in my life right now, including an upcoming talk in sacrament meeting this Sunday.
The topic: Easter.
Now, perhaps it is the writer in me, but I rarely every am at a loss for what to say. Words have always come easy. Until today.
I’ve thought and thought about which angle to take, which story to tell in sharing my testimony of my Savior, Jesus Christ.
My mind has been settled in the book of John for the last three days, but I’ve been missing that spark of inspiration.
I surmised today that I needed to get into gear and pick a topic. Apparently I have content anxiety. #alsothewriterinme
I thought. And thought. And thought.
And it hit me in a sudden rush of emotion complete with a lump in my throat and watery eyes.
What more could I say?
What meager and simple testimony could I offer that could indicate a portion of my gratitude to my Redeemer.
Could I reiterate of the time I was converted to the gospel on a dark, lonely night so many years ago?
Could I tell of the unspeakable joy that comes though his redemptive and forgiving grace?
Could I speak of the pure, unfiltered joy that surges through my heart when I think of his majesty?
Could I retell the miracles, the parables, the healing the sacrifice that transpired in the meridian of time?
Could I explain the feeling of wholeness that even now, penetrates my entire body, leaving me a blithering mess of grateful tears?
I cannot physically express the love I have for my Savior, and for His infinite atonement.
Unexpectedly, my thoughts turned to missionary work.
I thought of the faces of the people I came to love on my mission.
I thought of the faces of people name and unnamed who have changed my life.
There are no words to express the power of the transformation that occurred in my life when Emmilie Buchanan became Sister Buchanan. Suddenly, my capacity to love was magnified a hundred fold. Suddenly, I saw strangers for who they really were: My brothers and sisters; fellow children of God. Maybe it’s cliche, but I have never loved like I loved in Montana.
That, the love of God, and the transforming power of the Savior’s grace and love is what the Atonement of Jesus Christ is all about. That’s what the Gospel of Jesus Christ is all about. That’s what missionary work is all about.
Nothing in this great and glorious work can be done with out it.
Pray for it. Live for it. Cultivate it. Be grateful for it. Seek for it.
And so through a moment of tender nostalgia, I found my topic for this Sunday. Love.
“There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love. We love him, because he first loved us.” (1 John 4:18-19)