Escaping Bondage

In the Book of Mormon, King Limhi’s people were in bondage to the Lamanites: “And now the afflictions of the Nephites were great, and there was no way that they could deliver themselves out of their hands, for the Lamanites had surrounded them on every side” (Mosiah 21:5). Three times the Nephites went to battle against their enemies, and “the Lamanites did beat them, and drove them back, and slew many of them” (Mosiah 21:8).

It was only as the people of Limhi finally sought the Lord’s grace that they were successful: “They did humble themselves even in the depths of humility; and they did cry mightily to God . . . that he would deliver them out of their afflictions” (Mosiah 21:14).

Sometimes our progress is blocked by bad habits and addictions, and we feel like we are in bondage. When we or those we love are caught in negative cycles of compulsive behavior, we can turn to God, and with His help—His grace—we can escape. But one of the reasons I love the story of Limhi is because the happy ending doesn’t come immediately after the people call upon God. Many who struggle with addictions relate to King Limhi’s people, who spent “many days in the wilderness” before “they arrived in the land of Zarahemla” (Mosiah 22:13). But God and His grace were not waiting for them in Zarahemla. They were with them in the wilderness. Christ said, “I am the way” (John 14:6), not “I am waiting at the end of the way.”

God cannot force us to choose the path of exaltation any more than He could force Limhi’s people to leave their captivity. As hard as it is to comprehend, many are content with slavery. They either can’t remember a past without it or can’t imagine a future free from it. The miracle of grace is not just that God can take us out of slavery, but that He can take slavery out of us. It took weeks and months to bring the children of Israel out of Egypt. However, it took forty years and more to take Egypt out of them. It was one thing to change their surroundings and another to change them. As we strive to escape whatever bondage we find ourselves in, God will soften hearts, ease burdens (see Mosiah 21:15), and help us “grow in grace” (Hymns, no. 296; D&C 50:40). As we endure, we will learn to take the Lord’s name more sincerely and reach out to others for help. We will learn to see our progress—however slow it may be—with a long-term perspective. When we choose to accept grace, our days in the wilderness—like those of Limhi—become journeys of freedom and healing.

Endure

My daughter Wendee and son-in-law Gian are trying to teach their son to write the alphabet. He tries, but he becomes easily discouraged because his letters are squiggly and uneven. They don’t look like the ones his parents make, so he quickly gives up. He doesn’t realize that his mom and dad don’t care what the letters look like at this point, only that he keeps trying. They just want him to show a willing attitude.

One young man told me, “There is no chance for me. I have gone too far too often. I have let God down too many times. I am not worthy of His love or help.” This young man was discouraged because he would make progress for a while, feel better, and then slip and decide all his efforts meant nothing.

Sometimes our growth and progress are like a game my friends and I would play on long bus rides home from debate trips in high school. It was called Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Without breaking the rhythm of slapping our knees and clapping our hands, we had to call out someone else’s name or number. Anyone who made a mistake had to go to the back of the bus and slowly start moving toward the front again, one seat at a time. Inevitably, when I had almost made it to the front, I would mess up and get sent to the back. I felt like I was getting nowhere. What I realize now is that no matter where I was sitting, the bus was still continually taking me toward home.

Enduring to the end doesn’t mean living without errors. It means enduring in the covenant despite errors—remaining in the bus and continuing to play the game no matter where we currently sit or how many times we end up at the back.

When we feel discouraged, we can think of the text of the hymn “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet”: “Thus on to eternal perfection the honest and faithful will go” (Hymns, no. 19). Notice it says honest and faithful, not flawless and faultless. Worthiness is not flawlessness. It is honesty with self, God, and priesthood leaders. It is faithfully continuing to try. Scriptures promise our confidence will “wax strong in the presence of God” when we “let virtue garnish [our] thoughts unceasingly” (D&C 121:45). Such perfection is a great goal to strive for, but in the meantime, those who are honest with priesthood leaders and who keep trying can also feel their confidence wax strong.

A young woman in my mission prep class at BYU wrote me this e-mail: “I kept having feelings that I was not worthy enough to go on a mission. You said to get ‘everything out on the table’ in our interviews. That gave me the courage to finally talk to my bishop about some things from my past—weight that I have been carrying for a long time. [Since] I spoke to him I have never felt so free and so worthy. It took a lot of faith and humility to admit my own imperfections and admit I needed a Savior. But now I can go on my mission with complete confidence. I feel ready and worthy to enter the temple and most important, I know that if I slip up again, I am not going to hide it. I am going straight to my bishop or mission president.”

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland reminded us to keep trying even when our successes can only be measured in “small victories.”1 He said, “The Lord blesses those who want to improve, who accept the need for commandments, and try to keep them. . . . If you stumble in that pursuit, so does everyone; the Savior is there to help you keep going.”2

The Lord’s Name

King Limhi and his people tried to escape on their own without success. As they humbly turned to God, the result was different. In scriptures we are commanded, “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain” (Exodus 20:7). Obviously this means we should not swear using the name of the Lord. However, refusing to take the Lord’s name in vain has other meanings as well.

Taylor Halverson, who works in BYU’s Center for Teaching and Learning, told me that the Hebrew word that was translated in our scriptures as vain means “meaningless and empty.” He said, “Perhaps the commandment in Exodus 20:7 should read, ‘Thou shalt not take upon thyself the name of God with empty and meaningless intent.’”3 As we partake of the sacrament, we renew a covenant to take Christ’s name upon us, just as Christ took our names upon Himself when He atoned for us. When we renew this covenant out of habit rather than as a sincere choice, we are taking His name in vain. The good news is we are familiar with the sacrament hymns and prayers. The bad news is we are familiar with the sacrament hymns and prayers.

Another way we take the Lord’s name in vain is when we give up the hope Christ offers through His Atonement. In that moment, we render His grace useless, empty, and meaningless in our lives. In sacred sacrament moments, we cannot really promise to never again make a mistake. Instead we demonstrate that we are willing to receive His grace (see Moroni 4:3; D&C 46:9; emphasis added). If we abstain from taking the sacrament when we have not been specifically instructed to do so, we are choosing to look backward rather than forward. We are letting our yesterdays eat up too much of our todays and tomorrows.

Elder John H. Groberg taught, “What does it mean to partake of the sacrament worthily? Or how do we know if we are unworthy? If we desire to improve (which is to repent) and are not under priesthood restriction, then . . . we are worthy.”4 But what if we are under priesthood restriction? Is that taking away the very thing we need most? No. The restriction of sacrament privileges is not a punishment as much as it is an opportunity for us to stop and think seriously about what we’re doing and our true desires. It is a chance to make sure we’re not taking Christ’s name and renewing covenants in an empty and meaningless way (see 3 Nephi 18:29–32).

One Easter I was invited to speak to women who lived in a halfway house in Salt Lake City. Many were members of the Church or former members who were desirous to participate in meetings. Since their travel was restricted, the local stake organized a small branch for them that met in a nearby seminary building.

As I drove into the small parking lot, I saw a group of about ten women outside the seminary building smoking before they entered sacrament meeting. They were embarrassed that I had seen them, so when I stood to speak I tried to ease the awkwardness of the moment by saying: “Thank you for choosing to be here. Too many people let those stupid cigarettes keep them from attending services like this, but Easter is not just about Christ breaking the bands of death. It is about His willingness to help us break bad habits.” That meeting will always be a treasured memory—not in spite of the smell of smoke, but because of it.

Those women did not have to be there. Attendance was not required. They could have found many excuses for not going. Yet there they were. At the end of the meeting I greeted the sisters as they left. One woman whispered, “I had convinced myself that the Atonement could never apply to me, but now I know it does.” As that sister shook my hand, I could tell she had not taken the sacrament meaninglessly that day. She had renewed her covenant to take upon herself the name of Christ, and she did not take His name in vain. She felt His grace.

Reach Out

We do not need to try to escape bondage on our own. I’m sure it was easier for Limhi and his people to escape because they were working together. We can reach out to family members, friends, priesthood leaders, and professionals for help. The simple act of sharing with other people a desire—even a spark of a desire—to break bad habits dramatically increases the likelihood of success.

Being stuck in bad habits is like being stuck in quicksand.
I’ve seen quicksand only in the movies, but my son-in-law Landon tells me the movies portray it pretty inaccurately. Apparently people don’t typically drown in quicksand. When they die, it is from exposure or thirst because they are alone. It turns out the real danger of quicksand is encountering it when no one is around. People simply cannot get out without assistance. The more they try on their own, the more stuck they become. Survivors are those who call out for and accept help from others.

Hiding and attempting to cover our problems can be as damaging as the problems themselves. One man who was heavily involved in pornography didn’t want anyone to find out. He said, “I stopped praying because I felt hypocritical. I didn’t tell my bishop or anyone in my family. I determined that all I needed was willpower and promised myself that once I conquered my weakness on my own, I would again pray and speak openly with my bishop and wife.” Such thinking seems like someone stuck in quicksand saying, “Once I take care of this on my own, I will let others know what happened.”

There is wisdom in building a support system—a circle of examples, mentors, and friends intent on encouraging instead of shaming, educating instead of embarrassing. As I travel I meet hundreds of facilitators and missionaries who serve in the Church’s Addiction Recovery Program. How I love and admire these faithful brothers and sisters.

They help people identify and remove stumbling blocks. We’re familiar with the advice given in Matthew 5:30—“If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off”—yet we are unclear what that statement really means. The original Greek word that was translated as offend could also have been translated as “cause to stumble.” In other words, if our hand is tempted to touch something that would cause us to stumble spiritually, the Savior’s advice is to get rid of the temptation, cut it out of our lives completely. A support system can help us do that.

Priesthood leaders can be part of that circle of support. Latter-day Saints are not the only ones who see value in confessing sins, but many Christians confess anonymously. We speak with priesthood leaders face to face. That way, along with hearing our confessions, they can help us set realistic goals and hold us accountable as we strive to reach them.

A series of small, specific goals is often better than one big, nebulous goal. “Never again” may be where we want to end up, but it is not where we start. Start with a day, and then a week, then two. President Henry B. Eyring suggested, “We can have rising expectations. You can set the bar for yourself a little higher and then a little higher, again and again.”5

Leaders and others who support us can help us celebrate private victories. When kids mow the lawn or set the table without being asked, we say, “Wonderful!” This reinforcement gives them enthusiasm to keep making the same positive choices again. But what happens when we resist temptation? Usually no one knows but us. That changes when we share our victories with others who can join with us in celebrating important milestones.

When we don’t succeed, mentors and friends can help us learn from mistakes. Although we don’t seek, plan, or condone mistakes, they are part of life and part of any effort toward self-betterment. Mentors can help us reflect on our choices, figure out what caused us to backslide, and find renewed motivation. A lapse does not have to become a relapse. Satan would have us dwell on our mistakes and wallow around in self-pity. Leaders can help us to examine our failures, determine what led to the poor choice, and figure out what we can do in the future when confronted with the same situation.

Long-term Perspective

God saw the journey of Limhi and his people differently than they did. Remember when your aunt or uncle would see you at a family reunion and say, “You are growing like a weed. I can’t believe how much you have changed”? You never noticed the growth as you looked in the mirror each day, but your loving family members had a long-term perspective. God has an eternal perspective. Where we see death, He sees a homecoming. Where we see suffering, He sees growth. Where we see failures, He sees the road to success.

Once I was in a public school doing a demonstration lesson for BYU student teachers. I was scheduled to teach the second-graders as the future teachers observed. No sooner had I begun than one of the children screamed, “He’s coming!” and the class jumped out of their seats and ran to a table at the side of the room. I looked at the regular classroom teacher, who felt embarrassed and quickly explained that they were hatching chicks in an incubator. One of the children had noticed that a chick had begun to break through its shell, and the children could not contain their excitement.

The adults gathered behind the second-graders to watch the miracle of life unfold. The children watched as the little chick pushed and pecked against the shell, which stubbornly refused to give way. After a while, one second-grader looked up at me and said, “Mr. Wilcox, help him! Can’t you see he’s having a hard time?”

I have to admit it was tempting. For two seconds I considered reaching into the incubator and cracking open the egg so the children would be willing to return to their seats and we could get on with the lesson. However, I knew that cracking open that egg would not have helped the chick. It probably would have killed it, for only as the chick pushes against the shell does it gain the strength to survive outside the shell.

Breaking bad habits takes time, but each small goal reached along the way is how God strengthens us so we can maintain the needed changes in the long run. If the process were easier we would surely be disappointed in the outcome. The second-graders and I had to be patient and adopt a long-term perspective. We all do. When our vision is expanded by Him whose vision is perfect, it is evidence of God’s grace.

One missionary needed to leave his mission a month early in order to accept a job awaiting him at home. His mission president understood the situation and told him he would make the arrangements. Still the elder was tormented by guilt. He wrote me an e-mail seeking advice: “Am I doing the right thing? I love the Savior and don’t want to disappoint Him, but this is an incredible work opportunity. I am just so torn.”

I wrote back, “Keep a long-term perspective! God is guiding you through a perfecting process that is longer than your mission. He is in it for the long haul. You are not shortchanging Him by a month. You are just twenty-three months into a mission that is going to continue throughout your life and beyond.”

When my son David was teaching Japanese at the MTC, one of the missionaries in his district became pretty stressed out. The young man said, “I want to be able to look back and say I did all I could to accomplish my purpose and reach my potential. This is the only time I will ever have to do this, and I don’t want to spend forever wondering if there was more I could have done. I feel like what happens right now will determine the rest of my life and even stretches into where I will end up eternally. It really scares me to think that I might—and probably will—screw up. There is so much riding on this one single moment, it’s ridiculous.”

David told him, “Are missions important? Yes. Do the lessons learned on missions affect the future? Yes. Do missionaries screw up? Yes, but let’s keep things in perspective. Imagine a first-grader saying the same words: I want to be able to look back at first grade and say I did all I could do. This is the only time I will ever be in first grade. What happens right now will determine my future. It scares me that I might make a mistake.”

When David put it in those terms, the stressed-out elder just laughed. What would we say to that first-grader? We would probably say, “Hey, don’t freak out. There is a second-grade teacher waiting who knows exactly how to help you get to the next step. Your future is not determined by first grade alone. Don’t be afraid of mistakes. We all make them as we learn.”

Journey of Healing

As we read of the escape of Limhi and his people, we often think it was only a journey toward freedom, but it was also a journey of healing. Freedom in the future always requires healing from the past. The Lord’s grace offered Limhi’s people both, and He offers the same to us.

Stephen was introduced to pornography when he was twelve. He said, “The rush I felt was strong and powerful, but I knew it was wrong so I quickly tried to stop. I had no clue about the devastation and heartache that porn would bring into my life. I had no idea I would become an addict.”

Throughout his youth, Stephen appeared to be a good Mormon kid—saying his prayers, reading scriptures, and going to church. But he said, “I was doing Christlike things without becoming Christlike. Privately I was fighting a constant battle against temptation. Sometimes I had weeks and months of sobriety, but usually it lasted only a few days.”

Stephen convinced himself that his private actions didn’t hurt others and he could handle it alone. He kept telling himself it wasn’t a big problem. “Besides,” he reasoned, “it’s not holding me back in school or in other aspects of my life, so it can’t be all that bad.”

Soon enough, his private indulgences did start affecting other aspects of his life—especially his spirituality. He said, “I stopped praying because I felt unworthy to approach God. I avoided the bishop because I was afraid he would ask me about it. I stopped trying to repent since I always fell again. I had been taught that I wouldn’t get God’s approval and grace until I worked as hard as I could first, and in my mind that meant breaking my bad habits once and for all. Repenting and falling again felt like I was mocking the Atonement. It seemed better to put off repentance until I was finally done. That reasoning just kept me away from God when I needed Him most.”

As the time for Stephen’s mission drew closer, social pressure gave him enough motivation to clean up his act and serve. He was grateful for that reprieve in his life. However, it did not lead to lasting change. He said, “There is a big difference between not viewing because you are making a conscious choice and not viewing because you simply don’t have the opportunity. It’s like going on a diet instead of making permanent lifestyle changes.”

After his mission, Stephen met McKenna, and they were married in the temple. They were happy, and Stephen felt that now that he had a sexual outlet, he would no longer feel tempted to view pornography. He learned quickly that marriage is not a cure. Those who struggle to control themselves outside of marriage continue to struggle within marriage. Stephen underestimated the depth of his youthful addiction. Six months after his wedding, pornography crept back into his life. “At that point, I gave up trying. I went to church and partook of the sacrament, but it meant nothing to me,” he explained.

When people asked him how marriage was or how he was doing, he would answer, “Everything is great.” He said it so often he actually started to believe it. He said, “I was being pacified and lulled by Satan, just as we are warned in scriptures.” In 2 Nephi 28:21 we read, “And others will he pacify, and lull them away into carnal security, that they will say: All is well . . . and thus the devil cheateth their souls.”

The material for the Addiction Recovery Program states, “Individuals finally become willing to abstain when the pain of the problem becomes worse than the pain of the solution.”6

That was what finally happened in Stephen’s life. He explained, “My addiction became progressively worse until I was completely out of control. I was viewing and acting out daily—even multiple times a day. Our first child had just been born a few months earlier, and I should have been so happy. Instead, I was miserable. I no longer cared who found out. I knew I could lose my wife, my son, everything, but I could not go on the way I was. I finally reached out for help.” The material used in the Addiction Recovery Program calls it hitting bottom. After years of hiding and justifying, that’s what happened to Stephen.

He disclosed everything to McKenna, who was devastated. “Her response made me realize how far off track I had allowed myself to become,” Steven admitted. “I was sick. I let my life get so out of control. I was angry—not at my wife or because I told her. She deserved to know the truth. I was angry at myself for being such an idiot.” Stephen began the repentance process. He spoke to his bishop and began participating in Addiction Recovery.

President Thomas S. Monson said, “May we ever choose the harder right instead of the easier wrong.”7 Stephen had been taking the easy path by sweeping his problem under the rug and telling himself it was no big deal—that everybody did it and that lots of people say it is normal and even healthy.

“The problem with the easy road,” said Stephen, “is that it did not lead me where I wanted to be. It left me weaker rather than stronger for traveling it. If pornography is so normal and healthy, why was I so unhappy and why was my life falling apart?” Now Stephen chose a harder road. It was grace that helped him face the issue head-on, reach out for help, learn the facts, and honestly own up to his actions. It was a hard road, but he knew that now he was getting somewhere. That was the long-term perspective he had been missing.

McKenna faced a difficult journey of her own. She said, “April 15, 2011, was a day I will never forget because it was the day my whole world crumbled around me. I grew up in the Church and graduated from seminary. I went to BYU and got married in the temple. My life seemed perfect. Suddenly everything changed.”

Three months after their first baby, a son, was born, Stephen told her everything he had been hiding. She said, “My husband, my sweetheart, the man I loved with my whole heart, the man I had married in the temple for eternity, and with whom I just started a family, was a porn addict. I never thought something like that could happen to me.” She admitted she had seen warning signs and knew things weren’t quite right, but she had been afraid to confront her husband. She had enough on her plate dealing with the pregnancy, delivery, and new baby. She said, “Looking back, I can see that I was receiving strong promptings from the Holy Ghost, but I disregarded them and kept pretending everything was fine. I was in denial. My husband was in the bondage of pornography, but I was in bondage as well—the bondage of ignorance.”

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland wrote, “We learn little clichés early in our lives. Two of them are ‘Ignorance is bliss’ and ‘What I don’t know won’t hurt me.’ Let me say with all the intensity I have that nothing will hurt you more than what you don’t know.”8

McKenna learned the truth of those words. She said, “Stephen’s disclosure hit me like a tidal wave of despair, a tsunami of the soul. The first few days were full of grief, anger, frustration, and disbelief. I was recovering from the birth and caring for my newborn. On top of that I was dealing with my husband’s confession. I felt rejected and guilty for not being enough for him. I felt lost, alone, full of shame, and beyond the reach of anyone or anything.”

She asked for God’s help and was prompted to attend a spouse support meeting held in conjunction with Stephen’s Addiction Recovery Group. As others shared their experiences at the meeting, McKenna realized she was not alone. She said, “I couldn’t listen hard enough, write notes fast enough, or absorb quickly enough. I started attending to try to understand my husband, but then I stayed for me.”

McKenna realized that she needed the Savior’s grace just as Stephen did. They both needed strength and help. The Atonement is not just about her husband receiving forgiveness but also about helping her to forgive. The Atonement is about helping both of them heal. McKenna said, “I came to understand that no matter what Stephen’s choices were, the Savior would help me find the peace and joy that I so desperately needed.” Stephen’s choices had affected her, but it wasn’t her husband’s responsibility to change so she could feel better. She had to be responsible for her own feelings.

Both Stephen and McKenna found that help from heaven came to them like manna came to the Israelites—just enough to sustain them from one day to the next (see Exodus 16:23–30). McKenna said, “God would give me just enough peace, courage, and strength to get through one day at a time.”

McKenna had always prayed, but never before with such intensity. She said, “I knew God was the only one who could get us out of this mess. Once when my son was three months old I was rocking him because he was crying, and then suddenly I was crying too. In an attempt to calm both of us, I sang, ‘Heavenly Father, are you really there? And do you hear and answer every child’s prayer?’ (Children’s Songbook, 12). I wasn’t just singing a song. I was asking those questions in earnest. I needed to know if God was really there and if He cared. Peace came, and also the realization that if I truly knew those things, my testimony needed to be reflected in my behavior. I needed to make some changes.” She renewed her efforts to read the scriptures—even a few verses at a time—and draw closer to God. In time she started seeing herself, her husband, and their situation through spiritual eyes. She said, “Grace changed my perspective. That change had to come from outside of me. I was too close to the situation to do it myself. New understandings opened the door for forgiveness and love.”

Stephen felt grace sustaining him as he progressed as well. He explained, “Looking back, I can see the Lord’s miracles began immediately, but it was difficult to see them clearly in the moment. First, I experienced the miracle of forgiveness. I was in an addiction recovery meeting and one of the missionaries testified that we could be forgiven. In that moment it was like the Savior wrapped His arms around me and the weight was lifted. Tears filled my eyes and rolled down my cheeks.” Did that special feeling mean Stephen never messed up again? No. The miracle of forgiveness is not the once-and-for-all event Stephen had pictured when he was younger. Scriptures tell us to confess and forsake (see D&C 58:43), but forsaking is usually a process in which forgiveness is offered over and over again. When Stephen was younger, he thought he was mocking the Atonement by falling after feeling forgiven. “Now,” he says, “I believe those who mock the Atonement are those who refuse to try at all.”

Stephen also experienced the miracle of recovery. He said, “I used to define success as not acting out. Now I understand that true recovery is a change of heart. It’s not about external behavior alone, but what’s inside. For fifteen years I gritted my teeth and tried to fix my problem on my own. Finally, I gave it to the Lord and am allowing Him to change my heart. My capacity has been increased. I now count many more victories than defeats.”

Along with forgiveness and recovery, Stephen recognized the miracle of healing. “I was once so full of shame that I would rather have died than tell anyone about my problem. In less than a year the Lord worked such a miracle of healing in my heart that I am now able to share my experience with others as I try to help them. Whether it’s one-on-one or in large groups, I can speak openly and honestly about my past, and the toxic sting of guilt and shame is gone.”

When Stephen speaks of miracles, he uses the word accurately. A miracle is an event that mortals can’t cause to happen without God’s intervention. The forgiveness, recovery, and healing that Stephen experienced are gifts from God and evidence of His grace. McKenna’s peace and perspective are also gifts of grace. Grace has helped both of them.

Stephen and McKenna are making it through this. Trust began to grow where once it had been destroyed. Love began to appear where once it had been leveled to the ground. They committed to communicating their physical and emotional needs to each other and being more sensitive to meeting those needs. They now have three young sons. They are the first to acknowledge they still face their share of challenges, but they face them together and with great faith.

Stephen shared, “My marriage never ended on paper, but it did in every other way. It was my fault. Logic would have said to scrap it and start over. Fortunately, because of our temple marriage, McKenna and I were not willing to give up, and the Lord never gave up on us. We are stronger and happier for it.”

McKenna agreed, “I know I truly have a Redeemer, because He has redeemed my marriage. I am happier now than I was when we first got married. We love each other at a much deeper level. Only a living God could have breathed life back into my dead marriage. Our marriage today is proof that God lives and His grace is real.”

Bondage comes in many forms. For Limhi’s people it was the bondage of slavery. For many today, it is the bondage of addictions, selfishness, ignorance, and pride. Regardless of the type of bondage, the Savior’s grace isn’t a solution; it is the solution. It isn’t a reason for hope; it is the reason. As we endure and take our covenants seriously, God will send people to help and allow us to see ourselves and our struggles through a long-term perspective. He will journey with us and grant deliverance, freedom, and healing.

“And after being many days in the wilderness” King Limhi and his people “arrived in the land of Zarahemla” and “Mosiah received them with joy” (Mosiah 22:13–14). It is with joy that our King will also receive us—not just at the end of our journey, but all along the way.

Notes

1. Jeffrey R. Holland, To My Friends: Messages of Counsel and Comfort (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 2014), 191.

2. Jeffrey R. Holland, “Tomorrow the Lord Will Do Wonders among You,” Ensign, May 2016, 126; emphasis in original.

3. Taylor Halverson, “How Else Might the Lord’s Name Be Taken in Vain?” Deseret News, 20 June 2016, http://www.deseretnews.com
/article/865656440.

4. John H. Groberg, “The Beauty and Importance of the Sacrament,” Ensign, May 1989, 38; emphasis added.

5. Henry B. Eyring, Choose Higher Ground (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 2013), 243.

6. Addiction Recovery Program: A Guide to Addition Recovery and Healing (Salt Lake City: LDS Family Services, 2005), 1.

7. Thomas S. Monson, “Choices,” Ensign, May 2016, 86.

8. Jeffrey R. Holland, “The Justice and Mercy of God,” Ensign, September 2013, 20; emphasis in original.