A piece of eternal life every week already

For months we had lived towards it. The house was completely renovated, and while the walls were still bare and the floors had yet to be put in, we already knew: when we move in here soon, something must hang that says who we are. Something that makes those walls more than plasterwork and paint. Something that makes this house a home from day one.

And so we had been searching for weeks when it appeared on our screen:  Tree of Life from Gena, a Dutch painter with Russian roots who has lived in the north of the Netherlands for years. The canvas stood out. Bright colors, a cheerful energy, a tree that lived. I looked at it and immediately knew: that's it.

'I had no idea it could mean so much'

Last weekend I drove to Gena to pick it up. As I carefully loaded the painting into the car, I asked him how he had come up with it. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. It was pure inspiration, he said. A beautiful theme, beautiful colors, immediately put on canvas. Nothing more than that.

Then I told him what the tree of life means to us as Latter-day Saints.

In the Book of Mormon, the prophet Lehi describes a vision: a path, an iron rod to hold onto, and at the end a tree with fruits that give you eternal life. That tree stands for everything we live for. The fruit is the purpose of our existence — to return to our Heavenly Father, forever.

Gena looked at me and said that he had no idea his painting could mean so much more to someone. But that's the point: it does. Every day now when I look at that wall, I am reminded of what it's all about.

That empty wall is no longer an empty wall.

The bread in my hand

But the real story only begins today.

I was in church. The sacrament was being distributed. I took the bread, held it for a moment, and felt the peace of our Heavenly Father come over me. The Holy Spirit testified, silently but unmistakably: this is the way.

And then it dawned on me.

That bread in my hand — that water I was about to drink — those are not just symbols pointing back to Christ's sacrifice. They also point forward. They are foretastes. Small pieces of the fruit of that tree of life, already in my hands, here and now.

I had to let it sink in for a moment.

Every week we partake of the sacrament to ask for forgiveness, to remember the death and resurrection of Christ, His atonement. Without that atonement, there is no path, no tree, no eternal life. I knew that already. But what I felt today was something different. I felt that the goal is not just at the end. It is here. Every Sunday again. In bread and water.

The path is shorter than you think

That changes everything.

For when you walk on that path of Lehi's vision, with that iron rod in your hands, it can sometimes feel as if the goal is impossibly far away. The mist is thick. Your feet are heavy. You wonder if you will ever arrive.

But what if you already arrive every week? What if that fruit is not something you work towards your whole life to perhaps taste someday, but something you receive in your hands every Sunday?

Then the path becomes bearable. Then it even becomes beautiful.

I notice it myself: this insight makes me want to try harder. Not out of duty, but because I taste where it's going. The gospel is like Christ himself — the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end. And precisely because there is no real beginning or end, because we know we are eternally appointed, everything we do now plays a role greater than we realize.

Come and taste

And that's why I want to say something that I, as a bishop, hold dear to my heart.

I know that some of you think that the sacrament is for the good weeks. The weeks when you've said your prayers, been patient, felt like you deserved it. But I believe it's precisely the opposite.

The sacrament is especially for the difficult weeks. The weeks when you failed, when you were impatient, when you said things you didn't mean. It is for the moments when you need the love of Christ most. And His love is infinite. That is not an empty phrase — it is what the Atonement means.

Do you have to be worthy to partake of the sacrament? Yes. But that worthiness is not in perfection. It is in honesty. In the realization that you have made mistakes. In the desire to do better. If that desire is there, then worthiness is already largely fulfilled.

You don't have to be perfect first to partake of the sacrament. The sacrament is precisely there to bring you closer to that perfection. Let us not put the cart before the horse. Let us not exclude ourselves from the sacrament, when it is precisely that which gives us the opportunity to come closer to Christ. For not participating means creating distance. And that is not what our Heavenly Father wants. That is not what Christ wants.

I also know that there are people who cannot come to church due to illness or other circumstances. If that applies to you: let us know. All you have to do is express the desire. We'll take care of the rest. However difficult it may sometimes be — don't let it stop you.

Whether you are a member or not, whether you have had a good week or not: I cordially invite you. Every week again. Come and taste that fruit. It is not at the end of an infinite path.

It is here. Now. In bread and water.