What I didn’t realize was how steep those blocks really were. Not a gentle incline. Not a slow rise. This was the kind of uphill where I found myself zigzagging across the streets just to catch my breath. As I got closer, I had to slow down and even walk at times, just to keep moving upward. Still, I kept going, excited to reach the temple and eventually, I did.
Even sweaty and out of breath, I felt the peace there almost immediately.
A quiet thought came to me:
"Maybe the view would be even better if I went a little higher."
So I kept climbing.
The pavement turned to dirt. Sagebrush surrounded me, and the trail became uneven. At one point, I startled a group of quail, though honestly, they startled me more. The higher I climbed, the smaller the temple began to look and the farther away I got, the more uneasy I started to feel.
Somewhere along that dusty trail, my favorite scripture came to mind:
“Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not.” (Doctrine & Covenants 6:36)
I stopped and looked back. The temple hadn’t moved, but it looked smaller because I had moved farther away from it.
That’s when it really sank in.
It’s so easy for Christ to slip out of our main view, not because He moves, but because we do. We get busy. Distracted. Pulled in different directions and little by little, without even noticing, He becomes less central in our thoughts.
When Christ isn’t at the center, everything else starts to feel different. Fear quietly slips in. Doubt grows louder. The path feels less clear, and the peace we once felt becomes harder to hold on to. To be honest life begins to feel like my climb uneasy and a little overwhelming at times.
Life is already an uphill climb. But when we keep our focus on Him, when we intentionally look unto Christ there’s a steadiness that comes, even in the effort. The direction is clearer. The purpose feels stronger.
The temple helps remind us where to look. It points us back to Him, but it isn’t just about a place, it’s about keeping Christ in the center of our lives, no matter where we are.
Because when He stays in our view, even the hard stretches feel different. We may still be climbing. Still breathing hard. Still stretching beyond what’s comfortable, but we’re no longer wondering where we’re going.
We know.
As I carefully made my way back down, the temple slowly came back into full view. The dirt turned to pavement. My footing steadied and with every step, that feeling of peace began to return, not all at once, but quietly, little by little.
It felt less like arriving somewhere new and more like returning home.
The temple didn’t move. Christ didn’t move.
I did.
As I finished my run, that thought stayed with me not as something discouraging, but as something hopeful.
Because if I moved away, I can also turn back.
It doesn’t take anything big or dramatic. Just a small shift. A quiet refocusing. A simple decision to look to Him again.
Little by little, I learn to bring Him back into my view
and remember He’s been there all along.
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