Come and See

There are so many times in my life, when the questions seem louder than the answers.

Maybe you've been there.

You keep praying about the same situation, hoping this will be the time heaven finally says something different.

You replay conversations in your mind.

You search the scriptures.

You listen to conference talks.

You wonder if you're missing something, or worse, if God is speaking to everyone else but you.

I've been there.

This week I've been serving at the temple more than usual, filling in for others who needed someone to substitute and you would think spending more time in the temple would mean leaving with every question answered.

Instead, I found myself bringing my questions with me.

Not because my testimony is weak.

Not because I doubt God.

But because life has a way of handing us questions that don't have quick answers.

Questions about people we love.

Questions about timing.

Questions about the future.

Questions that quietly sit in your heart while you're doing all the "right" things.

Yesterday was one of those days.

I was waiting outside the initiatory rooms, sitting quietly with my scriptures open, still turning those questions over in my mind and a sister sitting near me gently closed her scriptures and softly whispered out loud,

"Trust in the Lord."

She wasn't talking to me.

Or...maybe she was.

(maybe a God wink.)

I smiled because it felt like one of those little moments that only God could orchestrate.

A few minutes later I walked past the chapel on my way to my next assignment. The organ was playing Come, Follow Me.

I actually had to stop for a second.

Because earlier that morning I had been reading Elder Jeffrey R. Holland's words:

"Whatever we reply, His response is always the same: 'Come... Come, follow me.'"

Those words settled into my heart differently yesterday.

I realized I had been asking Jesus to explain everything.

He was simply asking me to stay close.

I wanted clarity.

He offered companionship.

I wanted the roadmap.

He offered His hand.

I wanted answers.

He invited me to follow.

And maybe that's the lesson I've needed all along.

Sometimes we think if God really loved us, He would answer every question immediately.

But perhaps the greater miracle is that He never leaves us alone while we're waiting.

Elder Holland writes that the Savior says:

"Learn of me, walk with me, talk with me, believe. Listen to me, pray. In turn you will find answers to your own prayers. God will bring rest to your souls."

Did you notice what He promises?

Not that every question disappears.

Rest.

There have been moments in my life when I thought if I could just understand why, then I could finally have peace.

During my illness. In relationships that didn't make sense. While praying for people I desperately wanted God to help.

I kept chasing answers.

Jesus kept inviting me closer.

Looking back, I can see He was never withholding Himself from me. He was teaching me that His presence was always more valuable than the explanation I thought I needed.

Maybe that's where you are today.

Maybe you're carrying questions about your marriage.

Maybe it's a child who has stepped away from faith.

Maybe you're wondering if you'll ever heal after the loss you never expected.

Maybe you're trying so hard to follow Jesus, yet secretly wonder why life still feels heavy.

Or perhaps you've convinced yourself you've wandered too far, made too many mistakes, or somehow lost your place at His table.

If that's you, I hope you'll remember the ending of Elder Holland's message. He reminds us that God has "a forgiving disposition." That Christ is "merciful and gracious, slow to anger... and full of goodness."

There is still a place for you.

There always has been.

Yesterday, none of my questions were fully answered.

But something better happened.

My heart became quieter.

Not because I understood everything.

Because I remembered Who I was walking with.

Sometimes the answer isn't another explanation.

Sometimes it's a whispered, "Trust in the Lord."

Sometimes it's a hymn drifting through the temple at exactly the moment you need it.

Sometimes it's the Savior gently asking the same question He asked over two thousand years ago:

"What seek ye?"

And then, with the same love He has always offered, extending the same invitation:

"Come and see."

"Come, follow Me."

I've discovered that peace doesn't always come after the answers.

Sometimes it comes simply because you've decided to keep walking beside the One who already knows the way.