Like Nephi, I was born of goodly parents. From a young age, I was taught to pray, to read the scriptures, to serve others, and to follow Jesus Christ. And like Nephi, I have also experienced many afflictions in the course of my days.
Yet through it all, I have come to know the goodness of God.
That is why, in preparation of Easter Sunday, I want to share what the mission, sacrifice, and resurrection of Jesus Christ mean in my life.
Why Easter Matters
On Easter, we remember one simple, world-changing truth:
Jesus Christ lives.
He suffered.
He died.
He rose again.
Because of Him, death is not permanent. Pain is not pointless. And no soul is beyond redemption.
Through Jesus Christ, every burden can be carried, every wound can be healed, and every broken heart can be made whole. If we come unto Him, He will restore us — not just someday, but now.
Easter is not merely a commemoration of history. It is a celebration of hope.
My Parents, My Family, and the Gift of Agency
I grew up in a military family, which meant we moved often. But no matter where we lived, one thing never changed: every morning before school, we gathered for family scripture study. I honestly believe that’s how some of my siblings learned how to read.
My parents taught us about Christ, prayer, service, obedience, and love.
One childhood experience always makes me smile.
When I was eight years old, I went on my first Cub Scout fishing trip near Denver. We were thirsty after fishing, and the adults said the only drink they had was beer (I think they were inactive members). Remembering the Word of Wisdom, I asked, “Does beer have caffeine?” They said no — so I took one sip of warm, bubbly beer.
That was all I needed. I decided right then: beer was not for me.
My parents taught us well. But even righteous parents, like Lehi and Sariah, faced challenges. They had Nephi and Sam… but they also had Laman and Lemuel.
In my family, my brother — who shall remain nameless — and I became the Laman and Lemuel.
Was it my parents’ fault? No.
Each of us must choose our own path.
People step away from the gospel for many reasons: doubt, sin, pain, confusion, heartbreak. For my parents, learning in one day they had two gay sons must have been devastating. But they never stopped loving us. They attended the temple weekly and placed my name on the prayer rolls for years.
Their faith never wavered, even when mine did.
The Lost Coin and God’s Relentless Love
Jesus once taught:
“What woman having ten pieces of silver, if she lose one piece, doth not light a candle, and sweep the house, and seek diligently till she find it?”
And when she finds it, she rejoices.
Likewise, there is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth.
God never stops searching.
When we feel forgotten, abandoned, or lost — He is still seeking us, still calling our name, still preparing a way home.
The Prodigal Son: My Story
The story of the Prodigal Son is my story.
I took my inheritance.
I journeyed into a far country.
I wasted years of my life.
And when I finally hit bottom, I remembered my Father’s house.
“I will arise and go to my father…”
When the son returned, the father ran to meet him. He embraced him. He clothed him. He celebrated.
That is how God receives us.
Not with condemnation.
Not with rejection.
But with mercy, compassion, and joy.
The Slow Softening of My Heart
What brought me back?
Time with family.
Sunday dinners.
Sporting events.
Simple love.
One day, my dad asked me to say the blessing on the food. I hadn’t prayed in years. Yet something tender stirred inside me.
Small moments like that slowly softened my heart. Eventually, I sent my parents a text telling them I wanted to return to church. I was terrified.
My father gave me a father’s blessing. And the Spirit flooded my soul.
Coming Unto Christ
Returning to church meant repentance. Daily prayer. Scripture study. Meetings with my bishop. Tithing. Slowly rebuilding habits of faith.
Through that process, the Atonement of Jesus Christ became deeply personal.
Every day, I try to remember what Christ did for me — not just in Gethsemane and on the cross, but in every quiet moment where He patiently waited for me to come back.
Easter begins in Gethsemane, where Christ suffered for every pain, sin, and sorrow.
In John 17, He prayed not only for His apostles, but for all who would believe in Him.
Then He suffered.
He died.
And on the third day — He rose.
He Is Risen
Mary Magdalene stood weeping at the tomb until she heard one word:
“Mary.”
She turned and cried:
“Rabboni!”
He lives.
Another Witness: The Book of Mormon
The Book of Mormon stands as another powerful witness of Jesus Christ.
After three days of darkness, Christ appeared to the Nephites and declared:
“Behold, I am the light and the life of the world.”
He healed their sick.
He blessed their children.
He taught peace.
His resurrection was not only witnessed in Jerusalem — it echoed across the world.
Comfort in Loss and Suffering
While on my mission, my grandfather passed away. I wrote in my journal:
“I am thankful for the gospel. It gives me understanding… Grandpa has passed his test.”
Death is painful. Separation is real. But Christ’s resurrection transforms grief into hope.
Because He lives, goodbyes are temporary.
Rising From the Ashes
In 2010, we watched the Provo Tabernacle burn. It stood in ruins. Yet it rose again — transformed into the Provo City Center Temple. A phoenix from the ashes.
That is the resurrection. And that is our future.
My Testimony
Because He lives:
We will rise.
Families can be eternal.
Broken hearts can heal.
Hope always returns.
I testify that Jesus Christ lives.
He is the Son of God.
He is our Savior.
He is our Redeemer.
And on this Easter Sunday, I declare with joy:
He is risen.