A Divine Signature

Note: I wrote this one a while ago and forgot to post it. Oops. But I’m still reading the book, I’m just farther along now.

I’m reading a book right now called Divine Signatures by Gerald N. Lund, talking about ways the Lord shows his hand in our lives. It seems appropriate to be reading this now because my very own “divine signature” event is what brought me to it.

This past Sunday, I was sitting by myself in sacrament meeting at church. Sitting by myself is a rarity, of course, but the kids were home sick and Brice was taking care of them so I could teach in Primary. Generally when I’m at church alone, I try to pay extra attention—since most Sundays I’m a tad bit distracted by two small wild creatures sitting on my bench. (Actually, to be honest, they both are usually pretty tame and quiet during sacrament meeting, but I do tend to use them as my excuse for not listening.)

But this week, I just couldn’t seem to focus. I say “couldn’t,” but that’s not true. I just didn’t really want to. We had just sung an intermediate hymn, and I noticed the next one was super short.* And suddenly I found myself wondering which was the shortest song in the hymnbook and which the longest.**

In mere seconds, I was barely listening to the next speaker at all. There was some sort of story about a film the Church produced for the World’s Fair, something something something. I was too busy flipping pages and counting lines and verses. Then the speaker said this: “Why am I here? Not on earth, but here today?”

You know that part in a book where the character suddenly straightens up, like a hound on point, all attention riveted?

That was me.

Okay, yes, my finger was still in the hymnbook marking my place, but those words jumped out from the background mumble that the words had become in my mind. They really did, like suddenly Charlie Brown’s mom was using words instead of “wah wah wah”s. “Why am I here today?” The speaker went on to discuss reasons like socializing and chatting with friends, obligation, habit. Internally I nodded, especially at those last two. But I also knew it was not enough. The reason we should be here, the speaker went on to say, is faith.

I closed the hymnbook and began to think and to listen again. It was what I needed, at exactly the moment that I needed it. It was a direct reminder, personal and loving, that I was known. And that God knew I needed a little gentle nudge of recommitment to nurturing my tiny little plant of faith. There is something so sweet about these moments. They are enduring and life-changing in ways that I don’t think angels or grand symphonies of heavenly manifestations ever could be.

Of course I know I will eventually falter and waver again. I’ll forget again. But I will have my scripture journal and this story to remind me, and I will have another moment, and the clarity will return as I recognize God’s hand and His love for me.

*“Praise God, from Whom All Blessings Flow,” two lines, one verse.

**In case you’re wondering, I think the longest is probably “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief,” but I didn’t finish checking. “The Wintry Day, Descending to Its Close” is also surprisingly long.