At that moment I came closer to despair than I had ever come before. I felt worthless and despicable, filled with impure motives and desires. It seemed to me that my life had been a lie I did not want to exist.

In my heart, there on the stone arch of the bridge, I must have cried out to God for help in one of the most sincere prayers I'd ever offered: Why? Why couldn't I be satisfied with what I had? Why did I want so much to be a leader? What was wrong with me? Why had this desire gnawed at me my whole mission? What was I really after? What would make me really happy? Oh, Lord, what's wrong with me? What do I want? What must I do? Where can I find peace?

It was at that moment when everything seemed blackest, when I could no longer endure the taste of my own bitter self, that I suddenly filled with an illuminating insight that burst like a light in a dark place.

It was as if a voice had spoken to me—not the voice of my own mind, but of some other, greater mind. It was as if someone said to me, "What you really want is a sign that you are acceptable to Jesus Christ. A Church calling is not that sign; the true sign is the Holy Ghost."

For a few moments I could think only upon the name of the Savior of the world. His name filled my whole being as if nothing else existed or mattered. And for those very few seconds, I was filled with inexpressible joy and relief.

I began to understand the truth: what I wanted more than anything was to know that I was worthwhile, that I had somehow pleased my Savior, that I had somehow gained his love and trust. I had looked forward to a Church calling as a sign that I was worthwhile, a sign that I was acceptable to my mission president, to the Church, and most of all, to the Lord. But I had forgotten that a leadership position is not the sign that the Lord gives to those whom he accepts; the true sign of his approbation is the Holy Ghost—the power, the fruits and the gifts of the Spirit.

Without the insight I received then on the old bridge of Florence, I suppose I could have gone on seeking higher and higher church callings and becoming more and more disappointed and unsatisfied. It's odd, but the truth is that we can never get enough of what we don't really want, because what we don't want will never satisfy us. No substitute can satisfy like the real thing.

In my own case I had thought that a Church calling could substitute for the Spirit, love and approbation of Jesus Christ. But in the years since I received my last transfer, I have learned that no calling, no worldly possession, no academic honor, no amount of wealth or prestige, no athletic achievement, nothing earthly can substitute for Christ or for the knowledge that we are acceptable to him. This knowledge is the greatest comforter.

There on the old stone bridge I learned that the Lord may take from us our hopes and dreams, even our lives and our loved ones; he may take our time, talents, wealth, hearts, might, mind, and strength, not because he wants or needs them, but because he wants to be sure that none of these things becomes more important to us than he is; he wants to be sure that none of them become dumb idols or false gods that we might worship instead of the true God.

I am sure of one thing, though I may know nothing else; I know by the power of the Holy Ghost, a power more trustworthy than all our senses, that Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified, was raised from the dead, and that he lives. I know he will come again. And when he does, "the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible;" and all who have loved him and longed for his appearing shall see him in the clouds of his glory and shall be caught up to meet him triumphant in the air.

In that day we all shall know, in a way we cannot know now, that there is not and never can be a substitute for Jesus Christ, our Lord.

(New Era, June 1973)