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One day, in the middle of my nighttime prayer, I was thinking about a tricky sort of doctrinal issue I thought I had a good insight on. And, as I sometimes do, I started thinking, “If I ever gave a talk in General Conference, I would say…” and started working out what was, I was pretty sure, the most genius and insightful talk of this dispensation.

I was quite pleased with myself.

But after a good fifteen minutes of perfecting my little mental masterpiece, I pulled up short. It was silly of me, I knew, to imagine myself on the podium. I would never get a calling like that – I’m devoted to the Lord with all my heart, but I have such a checkered past I’d do as much harm as good to the Church if I tried to represent it!

Not to mention, across decades of adult church activity, I’ve never had a leadership calling. Not ever. I’ve never been president of anything. I was only ever even in a presidency once, and it was in a tiny ward where I was the Primary music leader and after a while they put me in the presidency too, so I’m not sure it counts. Obviously, the Lord does not need me in charge of things in His church.

Frankly, I’ve never done anything important or influential outside of the church either.

I’ve tried to become a public speaker – and I failed.

I have written a book – nobody bought it.

I joined a “Come, Follow Me” podcast – nobody watched.

I have a YouTube channel and an X account – nobody follows.

I’m certainly not the only person to fantasize about the great conference talk I would give if I could. But in this moment, I suddenly felt very silly. Running through my thoughts and my arguments like I was crafting a speech is ridiculous for a nobody like me. I fantasize about being broadly influential, but I’m not. Sometimes people read my articles here on Meridian Magazine, but nobody knows my name or follows me. I’m not important to the world.

So in that moment, distracted mid-prayer, I told the Lord, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be distracted and wasting your time and mine imagining things that are never going to happen. I shouldn’t spend my time pretending I’m ever going to be able to talk to millions of people. I know I’m not important.”

And then the Spirit spoke to me.

Not with a feeling of comfort or peace, or joy or reassurance. No feeling at all. Just simple words, as clear in my mind as if they had been spoken directly in front of my face.

“You,”

He said,

“are important to me.”

I was stunned.

I felt for a moment like the prophet Enos, saying to myself, well it must be true because God can’t lie. But how could it be true?

I knew God loved me; I had long been clear on that. But I always thought of myself as caught up in His generic love. Like, the way I love all puppies just for being puppies.

But important? I had always assumed that the people who are important to him were his leaders. Prophets, apostles, bishops, Relief Society presidents, general authorities, famous artists, bestselling authors, and people like that. People with influence and reach.

He must spend more of his energy on those who would have a bigger impact on the world, right? And my impact on the world is tiny. It’s limited to my personal friends and family, and frankly, my impact on them isn’t always positive.

So how could I be important?

Well, it turns out the word ‘important’ can mean influential or high-ranking, which I am definitely not. But it can also mean “worthy of priority or attention.” I had always assumed I wasn’t worthy of God’s priority or attention since I wasn’t influential or important.

But if God told me I was important, and He cannot lie, but I am objectively not influential or high-ranking, then it must be true that I am worthy of His priority and/or attention in spite of being, in the worldly sense, a nobody. Not because of anything I have accomplished, but just for being His.

I, with my growing list of failed endeavors and complete lack of influence, am worthy of God’s priority. I matter to Him. My little life is significant to the God of all creation, even if it’s not significant to anyone else.

And if He has time for me, and I’m a nobody, then He has time for you.

If I matter to Him, and I’m a failure, then you matter to Him.

If I am a priority to Him, and I’m still struggling to overcome my sins, forget to read the scriptures, and still can’t get my family to do Come, Follow Me on any kind of regular schedule, then you are a priority to Him.

I am not famous, or influential, or suited for church leadership, and my life has had no impact on the larger world. If I am important to God –

then EVERYONE is important to God.

And that means you.

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