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.
