This is a talk I gave in the Manhattan Beach Ward sacrament meeting in August 2024.
Today my talk is on acting in faith.
Like I say every time I come up here to give a talk, I have struggled with my faith throughout my adult life. I've struggled with pretty much every church-related topic you can think of. At times, I have wondered if God loves me or notices me. Before I go any farther, I should tell you, I don't have any major revelations to share with you today, but I will say that writing this talk has helped me feel a little closer to God, so I'm grateful for that.
Earlier this year, I was having a hard time with the sacrament. We have been taught by our loving leaders the importance of thoughtfully and prayerfully partaking of the sacrament each week. President Nelson said of the sacrament,
"We personally ponder the Atonement of Jesus Christ," said President Nelson. "We reflect upon the significance of His suffering at Gethsemane and His Crucifixion on Calvary. At this time, each of us is to 'examine themselves' and reflect upon personal covenants made with the Lord. At this time, we meditate upon the sacred things of God."
It won't surprise you to learn that my primary focus during sacrament in the Manhattan Beach ward is keeping my kids quiet. Despite the numerous activities and snacks we haul up to our bench every Sunday, and the reverent vibes we try to cultivate on Sunday mornings, it's rarely a meditative or reflective experience for me. I have found myself feeling a bit frustrated and even hurt at times when I think about how important it is to take the time during the sacrament to connect with God. That never happens for me, and it has often felt like I was getting this important thing wrong.
So one day I was listening to a wise woman talking about baking a cake for her child. She asked her little boy what kind of birthday cake he wanted and he said "orange." So she got to work finding a recipe and found one for this beautiful cake with orange zest and candied orange peel and everything and she was so engulfed in love for her child and the creativity and time and attention that this cake required of her, that it became so much more than just a birthday cake, it was this offering that had almost become sacred in a way, because of how she put her SELF into it. I had never thought about a birthday cake like that.
An offering.
Then just a few days later, Heidi Snyder asked our Sunday school class to think about our reasons for coming to church, participating in this religion and our ordinances and covenants, and thinking about what we have to offer here.
Again that word offering.
Then, while I was practicing the organ, I read the words in one of my favorite sacrament hymns, O God the Eternal Father, "that sacred holy offering, by man least understood."
Offering. The third time.
So I felt like I was kind of supposed to pick up on something here. An offering. What could I offer? Do I have anything to offer? Can I offer God something better? What could that even look like? How do I give God anything?
So then I kind of got an idea.
I decided to try something I'd never done before.
I decided to bake some bread.
I am not really much of a baker. But, at this point I was kind of grumpy and feeling like, Hello, God, it's me Alex, ever heard of me? Can I get your attention somehow? I'm a little desperate? So I said, what the heck, maybe baking our ward's sacrament bread will somehow help me feel more connected to God during the sacrament.
And it did.
I can't explain exactly why. It's not because I'm doing something marvelous or valiant or important. My theory is that it's because I'm doing something. I'm not just sitting there thinking and overthinking. I'm doing. My wise friend Sue Paullin has taught me the importance of keeping one's hands busy, especially in hard times. And many of you have probably heard the famous Linda O'Brien quote about how God gave us ten commandments and a brain.
So in a ramshackle attempt to put these wise women's advice to work and follow three tiny promptings, I have found myself in my kitchen each week, following simple steps to a simple recipe. It's so simple I've almost memorized it. Yeast, water. A few minutes then a bit of salt, sugar, and butter. Last of all, flour. When my first timer goes off, I move the dough to a bowl for a rest, I watch for it to double in size beneath a cotton towel, then divide it into my cast iron pans and let it rise again. Before long, magically, three little loaves come out of the oven, two destined for school lunches and one for worship.
Last night, as I was mixing the dough, my mind was unusually quiet. I pictured Jesus offering bread to His friends, teaching them to remember Him, to take himself upon them, for soon He would die.
"And as they were eating, Jesus took bread and brake it, and blessed it, and gave to his disciples, and said, Take, eat; this is in remembrance of my body which I give a ransom for you."
I thought of the nameless woman who baked that bread and brought it to the Lord that night. I thought about walking into this room and handing my imperfect loaf of bread over to the smiling young men who kneel at this table and bless the bread and water and sanctify it. I thought of so many ways I wish I had been a more sanctified person this week, and I had a tiny moment of resolve to be better this week.
After four months of baking sacrament bread, I realized: I just had that moment of reflection and meditation President Nelson talked about. I was barefoot in my kitchen on a Saturday night, but the moment still came. I was filled with peace and relief. It will be a memory I come back to each Sunday while I bargain and plead with my chatty kids to be reverent during the sacrament.
I want to be clear — I am not suggesting that everyone here start baking bread. I mean, you can if you want to. But the point is, do something. Try something you don't usually do. Try something that makes you feel calm and confident. Offer it to God, with faith that He will make something happen for you.
I'd like to read this quote found in a talk shared by President Carter, given to a group of BYU students:
"I plead with you to know who you are, and what your real purpose is. I pray that you will fervently seek the help of God to change. Stop trying to do it by yourself! Don't wait to feel motivated. Get moving! There is hope. There is no need to inject yourselves with shame or discouragement. Go at a reasonable pace, seeking to be steady and determined. And above all, never give up. I challenge you to consult with our Father in Heaven tonight, and to begin work on something that has held you back for too long. You can do this. I testify that there is a loving Father in Heaven who will help us. Change may not happen overnight, but I testify that it can happen."This week I had this topic of acting in faith in my mind when we read the story of the 2,000 young men who went to war to save their homeland. This one line stood out to me. Alma 56:47 says, "Now never had they fought." The Ammonites were faced with a dire situation — either break their peace covenant, or die. They didn't know what to do. But they did SOMETHING. They sent their boys. They believed that if they acted in faith, something would work. "Yea, they had been taught by their mothers, that if they did not doubt, God would deliver them."
"When Helaman and his young warriors faced daunting challenges, Helaman was resolute. 'Behold, it mattereth not—we trust God will deliver us.' In one instance, when they were on the verge of starving to death, their response was to 'pour out [their] souls in prayer to God, that he would strengthen [them] and deliver [them]; … [and] the Lord … did visit [them] with assurances that he would deliver [them]' 'because of their exceeding faith in that which they had been taught to believe.'"Their parents came with food and provisions and support and encouragement. Each member of their community was doing something. When they could have just kept hoping, talking about it, crossing their fingers, and maybe even praying, the real miracle came when they acted. They went forward.
Most likely, the answer to your personal faith crisis won't be to go to war or bake bread. But it might be equally unexpected, and I would encourage you to go exploring and discover what new thing you can do, believing it will deepen your faith and bring you closer to God. Even if you only get a couple of inches closer, like me, it's worth it. I believe God cares about us. I believe we can find that connection if we seek it, especially if we seek God by loving His children. There are so many things I don't know, but one thing I do know is that change and growth and new life and beauty and second chances and fresh starts are real. They're real because of Jesus Christ and His promises.
I pray that my children, despite my millions of shortcomings, will one day be able to say with faith of their own, "We did not doubt our mothers knew it."
