Come Home Talk

 

I gave a talk in Sacrament meeting a couple of Sundays ago and wanted to go ahead and share it. It's kind of an extension of my previous blog post Home Can Be...

So without further ado:

May 17, 2026

Home Talk

 

I wasn’t given a topic, which is always super overwhelming for me. But as I looked through various talks, one aligned well with a blog post that I wrote a couple of months ago, so it felt meant to be. The talk that I want to discuss today is Come Home by Elder Gilbert.

 

I’m going to cheat a little and start off by reading that blog post.

 

"Please bless us to drive home safely to church tomorrow"

 

That was part of my almost 6 year old's bedtime prayer tonight. And it struck me that that is exactly how driving to church should feel; like driving home.

 

You know when you've had a rough day and you can't wait to get home and just breathe?

 

Or even when you've been having a blast on vacation or something, but still can't wait to get back home and sleep in your own bed and not live out of a suitcase?

 

There is something so special about the idea of "home".

 

A place where you can be fully yourself, where love is found, and where you can rest.

 

Unfortunately, not everyone's place of residence feels like home.

 

I've felt that way for much of my life.

 

Walking on eggshells, feeling down about who I am, what I have, and what I'm capable of.

It mostly started when we moved from Maryland to Pennsylvania when I was twelve. New state, VERY different culture for only being a couple of hours from where I used to live, increasing medical problems for myself, severe medical challenges for my mom, a house that seemed to be falling apart much of the time; all of these things contributed to me feeling like I had left home in Maryland and may never find one again.

 

It was during our first few years in PA that I ended up being the only Young Woman in our ward. There was still a full presidency, despite our ward always being short of people for callings.

 

There were things that were really hard about being the only one. But I also think that it ended up being a huge blessing for me.

 

During a time where my home felt like anything but a heaven on earth, church felt like my true home.

 

I got the full time and attention of three wonderful women every Sunday.

 

I joke that being the only YW during Christmas was great because I got a bunch of real presents at church, rather than a bunch of girls all getting a card with a hot cocoa packet or something. But I needed that. I needed to feel seen, and heard, and loved, and significant.

 

And this truly isn't to say that my home life was absolutely atrocious and nobody loved me or anything like that. But I was struggling a lot. I had really struggled to make friends. My health was getting worse and worse. Mom's mental health was getting worse and worse.

 

I would get so frustrated at her, but felt like I couldn't just be MAD at her because I knew that her brain was working against her and I didn't know what was her fault or not. I used to be able to talk to her about my life and struggles, but didn't feel like I could anymore because the conversations always left me feeling a million times worse.

 

And we didn't have a lot of money at the time and winters were ROUGH. I slept with 8-10 blankets on my bed during the winter, many of which were comforters that used to belong to my siblings that had moved out. Doing my homework was hard because my fingers would get so stiff from the cold.

 

All this to say, I always felt very uncomfortable when people talked about their homes being their safe havens, or when we sang "Home can be a heaven on earth".

 

Church was my safe haven. Church was where I felt closest to heaven.

 

After about a year and a half, another Young Woman came up from primary. And the next year, a BUNCH came up. And I was (for a teenager) SO much older than they were. And lot of them were related and would bicker. And church slowly stopped being a place of peace for me most of the time.

 

I lived for the Sundays that we would split classes. Because all of the "little girls" would be in one, and then it would be just me and a presidency member. And I felt like I was really learning the gospel and really learning how life within it works. And I felt that peace again. And I would feel at home.

 

I will be forever grateful to those women that took care of me during that time of my life.

 

Since then, there have been some wards and branches that have felt like home and some that haven't.

 

And I know too well that, for many, church is absolutely NOT a safe haven or home. And that breaks my heart.

 

Jesus said, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

 

I truly believe that church is meant to feel like home.

 

It's not there for us to show how pious and perfect we are.

 

It is supposed to be the place where we can breathe after a hard day. The place where we can be our flawed, broken, messy selves and feel unconditionally loved. The place where, even when things are going great, simply feels like the place that we want to be at the end of the week.

 

Because that's what Jesus means for us to find there.

 

Healing. Grace. Compassion. Renewal. Rest.

 

Rest from a world that becomes increasingly more stressful. Rest from all of ours doubts and insecurities. Rest from feeling scrutinized and judged.

 

We're meant to find Him there. So He can heal us, and answer our questions, and give us second and third and five hundred and seventy-sixth chances. And wrap us in His arms and provide the comfort that only Home can.

 

So yeah, I hope that we all drive home safely to church tomorrow.

 

And if it doesn't feel that way, I hope that we can all do our part to help it to feel more that way the next week. And the week after that. And always. So that when the weary arrive, they feel like they are coming home. And so that when we are the weary ones, we also get to feel that way.”

 

Towards the beginning of his talk, Elder Gilbert says “Today I will specifically witness to the names of Redeemer and Repairer, as I focus on Christ’s invitation for all of us to come home.”

 

I love how he repeatedly says that Christ wants us, and invites us, to all come home. All. Every single person. No matter who they are, where they’re from, or what they have done. He wants us all. He offers every single one of us rest and recovery.

 

            To quote Elder Gilbert quoting President Nelson:

“Because of our covenant with God, He will never tire in His efforts to help us, and we will never exhaust His merciful patience with us.”

And “should [we] stray, He will help [us] find [our] way back.”

 

            Think of the prodigal son. There’s a member of the church that I follow on Instagram named David Butler. I absolutely love the way that he talks about God and the scriptures. I want to share a post that he wrote about the Prodigal Son.

 

“It surprises me every time -- the way the father acts. I have read the prodigal son story more than any other story ever written -- but I never get used to it. The grace still shocks me. I suppose that’s evidence that God wrote it. Especially the part when the boy comes back up over the hill, after pushing the father away, and wishing he were dead, and wasting all of his money. He had the audacity to come back. And when the father saw him… He didn’t fold his arms, or puff and pace in anger, or wait for the boy to take the full, long walk home. An embarrassment he certainly deserved. The father didn’t do any of that. Instead he ran, because his heart’s instinct was love, and welcome home. And he collided into his boy and squeezed him close and kissed him all over. And shocked by grace, the boy stutters out his apology, which I’m sure the father appreciated, for it would mend what was broken. The boy. But in the order of things, the kisses came first. The father ran and met and hugged before he ever had a chance to say “I’m sorry”. Loved and embraced while the kid still stunk like pig. And so it is with God, who runs before we are fully ready, and squeezes before the sorry, and doesn’t wait for us to be cleaned up before He welcomes us home. And from the comfort and confidence of His embrace we change and mend and try again. But the kisses always come first.”

 

Unfortunately, church doesn’t always feel like a loving home where people will have their arms wide open for you. Whether you have never missed a day of church, but feel the weight of perfectionism, personal trials, or quiet doubts, or you have been away from the church at various points in your life, often for the same reasons, walking through the church doors often DOESN’T feel like walking into your home. The church is full of imperfect people who can sometimes be judgmental, inconsiderate, and unapproachable.

 

If that is the case for you, remember that Christ said, “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” HE is the one that you can collapse into in your hardest moments. He actually IS perfect. And He can help you to feel at peace.

 

With that being said, I think that we all need to take a look at ourselves and examine how we treat our brothers and sisters that we interact with at church. Are we creating an environment that feels like home? Are we willing to put an arm around someone that still “stinks like pig” so to speak? Do we offer Christlike love to those with lifestyles, political views, and personalities that clash with our ow? Do we seek to recognize those who are weak, or mourning, or sick, or overwhelmed, or doubting, so that we can offer them succor and rest?

 

And do we help those who are often carrying others to feel seen and valued? Do we make sure that they know that we are eager to help carry them as well?

 

It can be incredibly difficult to truly feel the rest that the Savior offers us when the people within His home don’t seem to offer the same.

 

I love the story that Elder Gilbert shared at the end of his talk:

 

“ In President Dallin H. Oaks’s recent historic address at BYU, the Marriott Center initially looked completely full. But if you looked closely, there were still hundreds of unfilled seats, and the ushers struggled to find space for those who still wanted to join the devotional. Then something remarkable happened. Students who had already found their seats began to turn their phone flashlights on to signal to the late-arriving students that there was still space. It was as if they were holding up a light to say, ‘Please come sit with me; we saved a seat just for you.’”

 

May we all be willing to hold up our lights to let others know that they are wanted. That they belong. That this is their home too. And that we are quick to offer up a seat next to us.

 

I truly do believe in a Savior that is ever ready to take us in His loving arms. A Savior that we can hug tightly, or collapse onto, or even be carried by. That is the one who calls us home.

 

I’d like to close with Elder Gilbert’s closing statement:

“The Savior loves all of us and is tenderly calling for you and for me to come home. Come home. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”