Sabbath Devotional: Anchored in Christ and Strengthened in Community

Hope is a word we often hear, but it becomes real when we live it and when others share it with us. Hope is more than optimism or wishing things would turn out well. True hope is a gift from heaven, anchored in the Savior Jesus Christ. It steadies us in the storm, connects us to one another, and gives us the courage to move forward when everything around us feels uncertain. Psychologists have found that hope is one of the strongest predictors of resilience, helping people recover faster from illness and hardship.

From the beginning of time, God’s children have clung to hope in their darkest hours. Harriet Tubman, born into slavery in the 1820s, risked her life to lead others to freedom. She explained the source of her courage in simple but powerful words: “I always told God, ‘I’m going to hold steady on You, and You’ve got to see me through.’” Her hope wasn’t passive; it was rooted in trust that God would make a way when there seemed to be no way. Because of that hope, she pressed forward, blessing the lives of hundreds who found freedom through her courage.

The pioneers of our own faith carried that same kind of hope as they left everything familiar and crossed the plains. They buried loved ones along the way, faced hunger and bitter cold, yet they sang hymns of reassurance: “Gird up your loins; fresh courage take. Our God will never us forsake.” Holocaust survivors likewise testify that hope, bound up with faith and family, gave them strength to survive when despair threatened to overwhelm. The Book of Mormon teaches us that “whoso believeth in God might with surety hope for a better world” and that such hope can be “an anchor to the souls of men” (Ether 12:4). Anchors do not remove the storm, but they keep us from drifting in it. That is what hope does.

I experienced the power of that anchor after the birth of my first child. Not long after becoming a new mother I was struggling with debilitating pain.` I was diagnosed with a large tumor on my ovary. Because I was young, my doctors performed the surgery differently than usual, trying to preserve my ovary. The tumor turned out to be benign thankfully, but I was left in severe pain with no clear answers.

It was a difficult time. My husband was away for the summer training with football, and I was home with a newborn, trying to endure days of physical suffering and emotional exhaustion. Eventually, I decided to visit him in California. For a short while I felt some relief, but then the pain returned with greater force than before.

After being rushed to a local emergency room, the doctor reviewed my scan and told me I most likely had cancer. The doctor urged me to get back to Utah quickly for further testing. My husband and I were devastated. We cried together that night, and he gave me a priesthood blessing. We clung to our faith, hoping the ER doctor might be wrong and that my doctors at home would have a clearer explanation. The next morning, I boarded a plane with my five-month-old baby. I was terrified, in pain, and emotionally drained. Then something remarkable happened.

I sat next to an older Polynesian woman who immediately began smiling and talking with me, playing with my baby and easing my mind. She noticed my tear-stained face, and when I explained what was happening, she listened with deep compassion. Then she reached over, held my hand firmly, and said, “It’s going to work out. I have faith and hope that you will be healthy and raise your baby.” Her words washed over me like peace itself. In that moment, her hope became my hope. By the time the plane landed, my heart was calmer, my fears quieter. I knew she had been sent as an angel in my time of need.

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland once said, “When we speak of those who are instruments in the hand of God, we are reminded that not all angels are from the other side of the veil. Some of them we walk with and talk with here, now, every day.” That woman was one of those angels. She gave me reassurance when my own hope felt too small.

In the weeks that followed, my doctors discovered that my pain was caused by inflammation and irritation from my surgery. The contents of the tumor had spilled into my abdomen and weren’t fully cleared out, which caused severe peritonitis. With steroid treatment, the condition eventually resolved. Looking back, I know the Lord carried me during that time when I felt so alone and discouraged. 

Sometimes our own reservoir of hope runs low. In those moments, we can lean on the hope of others. The Savior promised, “I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my angels round about you, to bear you up” (Doctrine and Covenants 84:88). Sometimes those angels are heavenly, and sometimes they are people sitting right next to us. Elder W. Craig Zwick taught that, “The willingness to see through each other’s eyes will transform ‘corrupt communication’ into ‘minister[ing] grace.’ . . . We can ‘minister grace’ through compassionate language when the cultivated gift of the Holy Ghost pierces our hearts with empathy.”

I believe that hope flourishes in community. When we share it with one another, it multiplies. That is why we gather in families, wards, and neighborhoods. That is why the Lord calls us to build Zion, to be covenant keepers, and to serve. Human connection heals, strengthens, and transforms. It is not just something we long for, it is something we are created for.

Today we live in a world where discouragement can feel constant. News headlines highlight conflict and disaster. Social media often amplifies fear and division. It can be easy to feel despair and hopelessness. But as disciples of Jesus Christ, we are not called to shrink back. We are called to be His hands. We are called to show up, to serve, and to carry hope into our families, our communities, and beyond. When one person’s hope falters, another can share theirs. Jesus Christ Himself showed us the power of presence, compassion, and love. He sat with the lonely, lifted the brokenhearted, and ministered to the one. When we reach for each other, we walk in His way.

Looking back on my own trial, I am grateful for the ways the Lord carried me through. I felt comfort through a priesthood blessing, my family’s prayers, the skill of my doctors, and the hope of a stranger who became an angel to me. Christ is our ultimate source of hope. He is the One who promises peace when the world cannot give it. He is the One who sends angels, both seen and unseen, to bear us up.

As we anchor our lives in Him, we find that hope is not fragile. It is steady. It is eternal. And when we choose to share it with others, it becomes even stronger. My hope is that we will anchor our lives in the hope of Jesus Christ. May we hold onto hope in every storm. And may we be willing to be the angels God sends into someone else’s storm.

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image credit: Sisters In Christ Print: Kintsugi Jesus, Womanhood ArtPaigePayneCreations

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Alexis Bradley is the director of Women Building Peace, a project sponsored by Mormon Women for Ethical Government.