Suffering, a Moment, a Breakdown

I want to share a story that just happened to me.

I don’t know why it happened. I don’t know what happened. That’s why I’m writing it. Maybe writing it down will help me to understand.

It’s 1/2/25 at 9:00 in the morning. It’s my first day back at work in something like 2 weeks. I’m driving to a client’s office. I’m listening to a podcast called Y Religion. They’re discussing 50 relics of the restoration; 50 items from the time the gospel of Jesus Christ was being restored.

They mention a microphone used by Spencer W. Kimball. I love Spencer W. Kimball. He is one of my favorite prophets.

As I’m writing this, I’m remembering what they talked about before this microphone. What they talked about before this microphone was the original manuscript of Jesus the Christ written by James E. Talmage. They emphasized that the writing of Jesus the Christ, one of the most impactful books of my life, was inspired by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints attempting to re-emphasize its focus on what is most important: Jesus Christ.

The podcasters said sometimes the culture needs to be reminded of what our most important focus is.

I wondered if the Church needs that reminder again today.

I remember thinking that President Russell M. Nelson, a prophet today, is trying.

They talked about the microphone. Brad Wilcox, the provider of one of my all-time favorite talks/speeches/dissertations (His Grace is Sufficient) started talking about Spencer W. Kimball. He shared a story from when he was on his mission and for the first time would hear a radio broadcast of General Conference. Back in those days, certain countries only got Conference in written word months after Conference completed. Brad Wilcox as a young missionary was disappointed when the radio turned on and he realized it was just a translator. Of course it was a translator. The message needed to be broadcast to this particular area in Spanish.

Then, he said, Spencer W. Kimball came on the radio with his telltale, well-known scratchy voice. The small group of saints asked Brad, “Who is that????”

He replied, and as he told the story he choked up, “That is the prophet of God.”

On the podcast, they then started to discuss the sacrifice that Spencer Kimball went through – losing his vocal cords and continuing to preach, speak regularly, and guide God’s church.

I thought about that sacrifice.

What have we gone through?

Have we lost our vocal cords and then been asked to continue to preach?

I thought about that sacrifice. I thought about that prophet of God. I thought about that voice.

And while I was driving in the car, I was crying. I didn’t even know I was crying. I didn’t know why I was crying. I still don’t know why I was crying.

I started thinking about why I was crying.

They talked about the kindness of Spencer W. Kimball and how losing his vocal cords made him so gentle, so empathetic to the suffering of others.

I thought about my current calling as Elders Quorum President.

I thought about how much I fall short in that calling.

I thought about telling my quorum that I’m a bad ministering brother. But I try. And asking them, who are also bad ministering brothers, to also try.

I thought about all the suffering I’ve learned about in our ward since becoming president. I thought about all the loneliness and sickness and illness and suffering and heartache.

I thought about my daughters.

I thought about the client I was about to see and some of the personal things he had told me about his family when he invited me to a Suns game once.

I thought about the suffering of his family.

I thought about all the suffering my daughters would have to endure in this life.

And I asked why.

And I cried harder.

And I reminded myself of why.

We know the why. Luckily, I know the why. I’ve written about it here a hundred times.

And then I pulled up to a light. And I looked directly at a homeless man. And I thought about giving him a dollar. And I wondered if the light was going to change. And I thought about how I didn’t want him to have to limp over to me for a dollar. Then he started to limp over to me. And I let him pass. And I let him walk back by me. And I wondered if he had a drug addiction.

And I thought about all the suffering in the world.

And I cried.

I wrote this. And I still don’t know quite what it means.

I know the world is going to get a lot harder and there’s going to be a lot of suffering.

And I’m going to ask why, despite knowing the answer.

And I realize that sometimes knowing why will make it easier, maybe even help, and sometimes, maybe it won’t.

And I worry about my daughters.

And I worry about this world.

And I worry about all the lost and lonely people.

And I wonder why.

And I want Jesus Christ to come back so it can stop. I want to help. But my efforts seem so small and fruitless. I’m a bad ministering brother and a bad Elders Quorum President and I wonder, I can’t possibly be who God needs in this position now.

And I feel so small.

And I just want Christ to come back and fix it all.

But I know before that happens this all has to get a lot harder. It has to get so much harder.

And I worry.

And I have faith.

And I wonder if my faith is enough.

And I cry.

So I wipe my eyes and blow my nose, hoping the client can’t tell that I’ve been crying. And I go about my day, always with why in the back of my mind.