True North

I walk out of the air-conditioned terminal onto the tarmac. I watch the ocean breeze lift palm leaves. The sun soaks into my jeans that I wear for the first time in a week. It’s January and I’m on my way home, back to winter. 

I walk up the stairs and find my husband, a few rows ahead of me. I scoot past two other passengers to the window, set down my backpack and lean back into the seat. 

I think about the uninterrupted time with my husband. I know we’ll both recall the days our schedule matched the rhythm of the ocean. I picture this morning’s sunrise and feeling weightless in the calm water. 

My reverie is interrupted by the plane rocking back and forth like a boat in high waves. I’m disoriented. Someone asks if it’s the wind. The flight attendant said it’s not the wind. She thinks someone is working on the plane. 

The rocking continues. I think: I’ll be sick if this continues much longer.

Everything gets still. The captain speaks. “Ladies and gentlemen, Ground Control tells us we’ve experienced an earthquake.”

I remember the magnitude 7.7 earthquake when I read Elder Stevenson’s General Conference talk this week. He describes the restoration (or renewal) of the Salt Lake Temple, one of which is a seismic upgrade.

Base isolation technology “…begins at the very foundation of the temple, providing a robust defense against damage from an earthquake. In essence, it structurally strengthens the temple to stand steadfast, even as the earth and environment around it undergo an earthshaking seismic event.” Gary E. Stevenson

I recall immediate disruption and confusion during the earthquake, my normal orientation gone. 

It was the opposite of steadfast and immovable. I’ve thought a lot about those words. What do they mean? What does it look like to be steadfast and immovable? 

Therefore, I would that ye should be steadfast and immovable, always abounding in good works, that Christ, the Lord God Omnipotent, may seal you his…

Mosiah 5:15

The goal of base isolation technology? When the earth moves, the temple moves less. 

Maybe that’s what it looks like to be steadfast and immovable. When everything around you is in commotion, you don’t move. You stand. In holy places. Or sometimes you stumble, then kneel. But you orient yourself to Him. True north is always Him.

Being steadfast and immovable may be most visible when a person’s world is swaying.

It looks like someone who reaches out for Jesus, no matter what. Someone who keeps her face turned toward the Son. Even when the rug is pulled out from under her or when the world around her shakes. Even when she has questions or when she hurts. When darkness encroaches or storms rage.

Because He restores her. He renews her. His gifts are offered every minute she chooses Him.

Her heart open to the Savior, her face toward Him, her feet on the path He walked. She hears Him, her rock and foundation.

Do you ever hear Him in music? “How Firm A Foundation” has given me comfort and hope over and over. I love all the verses, especially the ones we rarely sing. (verses 4-7)

The soul that on Jesus hath leaned for repose

I will not, I cannot, desert to his foes;

That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake,

I’ll never, no never, no never forsake.

Robert Keen

Steadfast and immovable, even when everything is in commotion. Face toward Him, especially in the rain. Feet on His foundation. It’s what I hope.