Today, I attended
the dedication of the Layton Utah Temple with my family. We chose the morning
session because I have a personal preference for mornings. That, and this
summer has been pretty brutal already, so I like to do certain things before
the weather gets too hot. I also thought I would have a mandatory meeting at
work today, which meant there would be less stress about the time if we went to
an earlier session. Even after the meeting was rescheduled for next week (with
today being Father’s Day and all) I still told my family I’d rather do the
10:00 session anyway.
I thought we
would be joining Christine and Joel at their ward. But instead, we went to our
own ward, just across the street from our house. That was okay because it meant
we could easily walk there and get there a little sooner. The doors would be
locked at 9:30, so the sooner, the better. We were lucky that our ward supplied
us with our own clean white handkerchiefs for the Hosanna shout, and of course,
we had to make sure our temple recommends were up to date.
Electronic
devices had to be shut off so we could sit still and maintain a reverent
atmosphere. That was fine with me. I did insist on sitting a little closer in
the chapel than we normally sit; I sat virtually in the middle of the chapel,
in the center of the bench, so the big screen was straight in front of me.
There were a
handful of nice talks and plenty of beautiful music. One of the songs the choir
sang was “Beautiful Savior,” a personal favorite that always gives me a few
goosebumps.
Among the talks, I
remember the importance of genealogy, something that was mentioned a few times
in my own patriarchal blessing. We received a beautiful virtual message from
President Russell M. Nelson, who emphasized how special and sacred the temple
is and has always been, all the way up to Adam and Eve when they built an altar
and made sacrifices to the Lord. Through the temple, we can escape the outside
world and be spiritually rejuvenated, and only through this place do we have
access to all of God’s blessings.
We learned how
easy it is for Satan to influence us; all it takes is the smallest crack. The
matron of the Layton Temple talked about how her own parents became inactive
because they’d postponed a temple trip with some friends, and it was many years
before they were reconverted. She herself was the only active member for a time
because a young friend invited her to Primary. When she was about to marry, her
husband asked if she wanted a civil marriage first so her parents could be
there. Luckily, she spotted that tiny crack right away and resolved not to make
the same mistake. Even when she was finally able to be sealed to her parents in
the temple several years later, she noted the “sadness and sorrow” in their
faces because her brother and sister were not with them.
We learned the
dual meaning of the word “Hosanna,” which serves as both a shout of joy and a
cry for help. “When a child is happy, a parent is happy, and nothing penetrates
a parent’s heart more than knowing their child is in danger.” We were told
there is a time and a place to rejoice out loud. Inside the temple, we must
maintain a quiet reverence, only speaking when necessary and never above a
whisper. I like to think of the Spirit as a butterfly or a bird—if you’re too
noisy, it’ll fly away, but if you stay calm, it will not only stay but come
closer and closer.
Finally, we heard
from Elder David A. Bednar, the one with the honor of dedicating the Layton
Temple today. He said he didn’t have a preplanned talk despite months of
pondering and prayer. Instead, he chose to speak from the heart, and I liked
that little bit of spontaneity.
He started out by
telling us about his childhood, being born in 1952 and growing up in the 60s.
He talked about all the turmoil of the 60s (racism, riots, assassinations,
threats of nuclear war) and how badly it scared him. He honestly believed this
was it, that the world was coming to an end.
Then, when he was
12 years old, he attended the dedication of the Oakland Temple with his mother.
David O. McKay was the President of the Church at that time; Elder Bednar mentioned
he’d always had a special fondness for him, partly because they had the same
name, and the man just seemed larger than life in every imaginable way. At that
time, President McKay was 91 years old and had recently suffered a stroke, so
he was brought to the Oakland Temple in a wheelchair and needed help to his
seat. To everyone’s amazement, he was able to speak at the pulpit (despite
bracing himself physically) and give the dedicatory prayer on his own. His son,
who was a doctor and in attendance that day, mentioned afterward, “We are
witnessing a miracle.”
Elder Bednar said
he never forgot that day, and even at that tender, vulnerable age, he
recognized the temple as a place where he could be completely safe. There’s
something rather poetic about him dedicating a temple in a similar fashion
sixty years later, and goodness knows how much of a mess our world is in today.
The parallels are uncanny.
Another thing
that stood out to me was Elder Bednar telling us that the Book of Mormon is not
a history book; it educates us more of the future than the past. And as
beautiful as our temples are with their amazing designs and everything, it’s
more about the Savior than the actual building. When all is said and done, it’s
all about Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father.
Sister Bednar got
to speak a few words herself. Aside from bearing her personal testimony, she
told us the importance of writing down what we learned today. (That’s what I’m
doing right now.) She regrets not doing a better job of recording past events
in her own life, like her baptism, even though she can still recall some bits
and pieces, such as where she was baptized and getting into a small fight with
her brother on the way home and realizing she’d have to repent already.
Then Elder Bednar
gave the dedicatory prayer. It was a beautiful, well-spoken prayer and the
feeling was so incredible, so calm and peaceful, like everything was right with
the world at that time. I felt the presence of my dad and grandparents, among
many others. Nothing can convince me that anything else would have kept them
away. I half-expected to see Dad sitting right there next to us on the bench
and I could almost feel his arms giving me a big hug.
After the Hosanna
shout and the wave of the handkerchiefs, we sang “The Spirit of God,” which was
the same hymn sung at the dedication of the Kirtland Temple, the very first
temple of them all. I never get tired of that hymn and it takes on an extra
special meaning at events like this.
It was almost a
disappointment to go home. You know you have to leave sooner or later, but
you’re still reluctant. Which is a good thing, because it means you have the
right mindset. And of course, the only thing to do is make arrangements to do
this again another time, and then another. I look forward to attending the
Layton Temple with my mom or sister or someone else on a more regular basis
from now on. It’s all a matter of when I go, not if.
