Temple reverence is one of those things that reminds me some stories just don’t fit into the neat little boxes we wish they would. They aren’t the classic “before and after” conversions, and you can’t sum them up with a catchy moral. They’re more like real life: a bit messy, a bit tender, and still, somehow, God finds a way in.
My stepfather’s story is like that
He was once an endowed member of the Church. But over time, he started to drift. At first it was just a little, then a little more, and then a lot. He stopped living up to the standards he’d once promised to keep. Eventually, his Church membership was withdrawn.
If that was the whole story, it would just be sad. But it’s not.
Because even with all the struggle, there was one thing that never changed: he would not talk about what happened in the temple. Not for gossip, not for laughs, not to prove a point. He just wouldn’t do it.
That stuck with me.
The quiet kind of testimony I didn’t expect
In Latter-day Saint culture, it’s easy to think that if someone drifts away from Church activity, everything they once felt must have been fake or didn’t matter. But real hearts don’t work that way. People can be inconsistent and still mean it. They can be hurting and still feel reverence. They can be far from where they want to be, and still remember where the “holy ground” is.
The Church teaches that we don’t discuss sacred temple details outside the temple, while still being able to share testimony of the temple’s purpose and the feelings we have there:
“Temple covenants and ordinances are sacred. The symbols associated with temple covenants should not be discussed outside the temple… However, we may discuss the basic purposes and doctrine… and the spiritual feelings we have in the temple.” (General Handbook 27.0)
https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/manual/general-handbook/27-temple-ordinances-for-the-living#sec1
When I read that, I think of him. No matter what else was going on in his life, he seemed to get that sacred things aren’t meant to be handled lightly.
That doesn’t erase the pain of choices or clean up the consequences. But it does mean something: the temple left a mark on him that he wouldn’t make light of. And for someone like me, who wants to be faith-forward without being naïve, that matters.
Goodness that wasn’t in “our home,” but still mattered to me
That reverence isn’t the only reason I remember him kindly. Another part of his story is that he was a good man in ways that mattered to me.
I wasn’t living at home anymore. I’d joined the Army and left before my mom’s relationship with him started. But I still saw the difference he made in her life. He treated my mom with steadiness and respect, and over time I learned to appreciate the quiet goodness in that. He wasn’t perfect, but he brought real care and decency into her home, and that’s something I’ll always honor.
I share that because I think a lot of us carry the same kind of complexity: we can admit real wrongs and still honor real goodness. The gospel doesn’t ask us to turn people into heroes or villains. It asks us to tell the truth with charity, and to leave the final judgment to the One who sees it all.
Where my struggle really lives: sealings, agency, and the desire to gather everyone in
And this is where the story stops being just about him and starts being about me, too.
Even though my mom didn’t share my beliefs, she didn’t want to be sealed to my dad. I went ahead anyway because I wanted to be sealed to both of them. I wanted heaven to hold my family together. Everyone together- that’s where I wanted the story to end.
If you’ve ever tried to hold on to eternal hope for people who don’t share your faith, or who have hurts you can’t fix, you know that ache. It’s not just a theological question. It’s a heart question.
Agency In Temple Reverence
Here’s what I’m learning, slowly: sealings don’t take away agency. God isn’t building eternity by force. He is healing, persuading, sanctifying, and honoring righteous desires. He can make room for truth, mercy, and choice in ways we can’t see yet.
When my thoughts get tangled, I come back to the Savior’s picture of the Father in the parable of the prodigal son—watching, waiting, then running:
“…when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran…” (Luke 15:20)
That is the God I’m trying to trust with my family: a Father who doesn’t give up on His children.
The next step I’ve avoided: temple work, approval, and the fear of making it “too real”
All of this—his temple reverence, my mom’s choices, my hopes about sealing—eventually runs into a very practical question I can’t dodge forever: What do I do with my stepfather’s temple work?
Because my stepfather’s membership was withdrawn before he died, doing his temple ordinances requires First Presidency approval. The handbook teaches:
“If persons either had their Church membership withdrawn or had resigned membership before they died, First Presidency approval is required before temple ordinances… can be performed for them… The bishop or stake president may assist with this request as needed.” (General Handbook 28.3.5)
I’ve struggled to move forward with that request—not because I don’t care, but because I do. Starting the process makes everything feel more real and more tender: his life, my mom’s story, my own faith, and all the messy places where mortality and eternity bump into each other.
A Pressing Thought
But here’s the thought that has been pressing on me lately, and it’s uncomfortable in a clarifying way: by not acting, I’m not just “taking my time.” I may also be limiting other people’s agency.
The Church is clear that proxy ordinances don’t force anyone. They offer an opportunity, and the person in the spirit world can choose:
“Individuals can then choose to accept or reject the ordinances that have been performed on their behalf.” (“Baptisms for the Dead,” Gospel Topics) So when I wait to do his temple work, I’m not really protecting anyone from being forced—I might just be holding back an option. In a strange way, my inaction can end up being a decision for them: for my stepfather, who deserves the chance to choose, and even for my mom, whose life and relationships are part of this story too. If I believe God honors agency, then part of honoring agency is not blocking the opportunity because of my own fear, grief, or exhaustion.
There Is No Shame In Temple Reverence
I’m not saying that to shame myself or anyone else. I say it because it changes how I see the step I’ve been avoiding: asking for approval isn’t me trying to control the outcome. It’s me trying to stop controlling the options.
And if you’re in a similar spot, maybe the gentlest faithful move is just this: ask for help. A bishop or stake president really can walk with you through the process. And the Lord can steady you as you take one small step at a time.
For those who are struggling to believe: you can start smaller than you think
If you’re reading this and struggling with your testimony, I hope you’ll hear something hopeful in my stepfather’s story—and in my own wrestling.
Faith isn’t always bright certainty. Sometimes it begins as a thin thread you refuse to drop. Alma describes that kind of beginning:
“…even if ye can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you…” (Alma 32:27)
Wanting to believe counts. Trying again counts. Deciding to stay close to the Church while you work things out counts.
And growth is often slower than we want:
“…by and by ye shall pluck the fruit… because of your diligence and your faith and your patience…” (Alma 32:42)
“By and by” is a merciful phrase for grown-ups.
A testimony—and a small pastoral blessing
Here’s what I can say with real conviction: the temple is holy. Covenants are real. The sealing power isn’t just sentimental; it’s part of the Lord’s work of redemption.
And I believe this too: Jesus Christ is more capable than we are. He’s more able to heal families. He’s better at honoring agency. He knows how to show mercy without ignoring justice. He can carry the parts of our stories we can’t fix.
My stepfather’s refusal to talk about the temple didn’t answer all my questions, but it did leave me with a witness I didn’t expect: even in weakness, a person can still sense what is sacred.
If your testimony is tired right now, I hope you’ll keep showing up anyway.
- Keep praying in plain language.
- Keep taking the sacrament
- Keep your relationship with the temple reverent, even if you feel imperfect.
- Keep making the next right move, “by and by.”
And I hope the Lord will comfort you in the tender places of your family story. I hope He will give you courage for the steps you’ve been avoiding, and peace about the outcomes you can’t control. And I hope you’ll feel, in quiet ways, that Heaven is not indifferent to your love.
This work was created with the help of AI as a tool for research, proofreading, and checking doctrinal accuracy—much like many writers rely on researchers and editors to strengthen clarity and correctness. However, the thoughts, interpretations, and overall message are mine, and the vast majority of the writing is my own.
About Gospel Discussion and Comparisons: The content on this website is for entertainment and faith-building discussion. Any comparisons made between movies, books, current events, or other media and the Gospel of Jesus Christ are personal commentary and illustrative only.[…]
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