🌿 Understanding Real Wealth

 

Dear Reader,

Today I found myself reflecting on the grandiosity of the planned ballroom at the White House. The thought stirred a question in me: What does it mean to have real wealth? In an age where billionaires flaunt their fortunes as symbols of importance, are the rest of us being inspired — or perhaps misled — by the pride of a few? Is that, in truth, what wealth is meant to be?

We live in a world that measures worth by accumulation — by what can be counted, displayed, or stored away. Yet the soul knows another truth. Real wealth is not what fills our pockets but what fills our hearts. It is measured in gratitude, generosity, and love, not in possessions, titles, or bank accounts.

Bill W. once observed that “material well-being always followed spiritual progress; it never preceded.” That wisdom still speaks today. When a person begins to grow spiritually, something remarkable happens: the need to possess begins to fade, and the joy of giving begins to rise. The more we open our hearts to God and to others, the more abundance we experience — not always in things, but in peace, purpose, and joy.

As Mother Teresa reminded us, “It’s not how much we give but how much love we put into giving.” True giving springs from the heart, not from the wallet. When our motives are pure, even the smallest act becomes immeasurable in worth.

Jesus warned, “Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; life does not consist in an abundance of possessions” (Luke 12:15). Instead, He taught us to “store up treasures in heaven… for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6:19–21). The treasures of heaven are not found in gold or silver, but in compassion, forgiveness, and faithfulness.

Missionary Jim Elliott once said, “He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose.” In that spirit, we discover that real wealth is found in what endures — faith, love, and the quiet assurance of a good conscience.

As Elder Jeffrey R. Holland taught, “Rich or poor, we are to ‘do what we can’ when others are in need.” Every act of kindness becomes a deposit in the eternal account of the soul.

And perhaps, as Henri Nouwen beautifully asked, we might end each day with questions like these: Did I offer peace today? Did I bring a smile to someone’s face? Did I forgive? Did I love? These are the real measures of wealth — the kind that moth and rust cannot destroy.

So at the close of each day, perhaps the truest question is not “What did I gain?” but “Whom did I bless?” For in that answer lies the secret of real wealth.

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💭 Reflection & Discussion

1. When you think of “wealth,” what images or emotions arise first? How do those compare with the spiritual definition explored here?

2. Can you recall a time when giving brought more joy than receiving?

3. What does it mean to you that “material well-being follows spiritual progress”?

4. How might focusing on “treasures in heaven” change your daily goals?

5. Who in your life embodies the idea of real wealth through love or service?

6. What one act of giving today could enrich your soul and bless another’s life?

An Action Toward Being Responsible

Dear Reader, 

Recently, I’ve been challenged both emotionally and physically by an event I had little control over. Someone I worked closely with—and considered a friend—has passed away. In the wake of his death, I’ve volunteered to help others transition many of his duties in our recovery office and bookstore. I chose to do this out of respect for him and because, as treasurer of the organization, I felt both the need and the call to step forward. 

You might ask, so what is the problem? 

The challenge lies in realizing the true weight of responsibility: keeping daily operations running, locating missing financial and business records, and rebuilding relationships with suppliers and partners. Responsibility, I’ve learned, is not just about getting things done—it’s about how we carry the trust that others have placed in us. 

In moments like this, I ask myself: What does it mean to be responsible? 

In my recovery program, I often return to the AA Responsibility Statement: 

“I am responsible. 
When anyone, anywhere, reaches out for help, 
I want the hand of AA always to be there. 
And for that: I am responsible.” 

These simple words remind me that responsibility begins in the heart before it ever becomes an action. 

Oprah Winfrey once said: 

“You are responsible for your life. You can't keep blaming somebody else for your dysfunction. Life is really about moving on.” 

For me, recovery and faith both offer light for the same path. 

• In recovery, I take inventory of my duties and acknowledge where I can act. 

• In faith, I turn to God and Christ for the strength and wisdom to carry them out. 

When I do this, I find peace in knowing that even amid sleepless nights, frustration, or fear of inadequacy, responsibility can become an act of love—an offering of service, gratitude, and faith in motion. 

Amen. 

Closing Reflection 

Responsibility isn’t about perfection—it’s about presence. 
It means standing where you’re needed, doing what you can, and trusting that God will meet you in the effort. 
Each task, no matter how small, becomes sacred when done in the spirit of service. 

Supporting Wisdom 

• “For of him unto whom much is given much is required.” — Luke 12:48 

• “When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.” — Mosiah 2:17 

• “Act well your part; therein lies the honor.” — President David O. McKay 

• “Let every man learn his duty, and to act in the office in which he is appointed, in all diligence.” — Doctrine and Covenants 107:99 

• “It is not only what we do, but also what we do not do, for which we are accountable.” — Molière 

 

When a Curse Becomes a Blessing

Dear Reader,

Today I was pondering two Hebrew words from the Torah: berachah and qelalah.

In Hebrew, the word for blessing is berachah — from barak, meaning to bless, to kneel, to draw near in gratitude.
The word for curse is qelalah, from qalal, meaning to make something light, to treat it as small or unworthy.
The irony is striking: in the language of the Torah, a curse is not something heavy, but something we have made too light — a moment we have failed to honor, misunderstood, or dismissed as meaningless suffering.

How many times in our lives have we looked at hardship — a loss, a relapse, a rejection, a season of loneliness — and called it a curse? Yet later, with new eyes, we saw that it shaped our faith, deepened our recovery, or drew us closer to our Higher Power. What once seemed to diminish us became the very thing that grounded us.

In Alcoholics Anonymous we read:

“All of us felt at times that we were regaining control, but such intervals—usually brief—were inevitably followed by still less control, which led in time to pitiful and incomprehensible demoralization.”
(Chapter 3, “More About Alcoholism,” p. 30)

That rock bottom of demoralization became the cornerstone of our recovery. Upon that rock, we discovered we could build again — and today, we are blessed with a life second to none.

The Hebrew reminds us that perhaps nothing is truly a curse until we refuse to see its weight — its sacred purpose. Pain is a teacher, and failure is its messenger. What we once thought was the end often becomes the beginning — the moment when grace breaks through our resistance.

As 1 Peter 4:10 teaches, “As every man hath received the gift, even so minister the same one to another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God.”

Every gift — even those wrapped in suffering — becomes a berachah when we receive it with open hands and hearts.
Blessing and curse are often two sides of the same divine act. The difference lies not in what happens to us, but in how we see it. What was once qelalah — made light of — becomes berachah when we kneel in gratitude.

What hardship are you carrying today, and what possibility for blessing might be hidden within it?
Experience continues to show me that grace can turn even pain into purpose. I testify that it can happen for you as well.

Amen.

The Gift of Service: Leading Through Grace

Dear Reader, 

This morning I was reflecting on a simple verse that bridges both my worlds of recovery and faith: 

“As every man hath received the gift, even so minister the same one to another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God.” 

— 1 Peter 4:10 

In these few words, Peter gives us the secret to what it means to serve and to lead: we are stewards of grace. Everything we have — our sobriety, our faith, our strength to keep showing up — is a gift we were never meant to keep to ourselves. 

AA and the Grace of Service 

In Alcoholics Anonymous, we learn early that “our leaders are but trusted servants; they do not govern.” This truth keeps us humble and reminds us that real authority comes not from position, but from love and willingness. 

I saw that grace in action today. I spent the afternoon working with a fellow member of our AA Service Center Operating Committee. As we discussed the daily functions of the office, I realized again that no one person does it all. The Service Center runs on the steady, combined effort of many — each contributing in different ways toward one purpose: to support the fellowship and keep the doors open for the next suffering alcoholic. 

None of us are experts, yet together we form a whole — a network of willing hearts guided by grace. It is, quite literally, the gift of grace expressed through service. 

 

The Multiplying Miracle of Shared Gifts 

AA’s Twelfth Step calls it “carrying the message,” but it’s more than just words. It’s the living proof that shared hope still works — and that when we share it, it multiplies. 

Paul wrote, “Having then gifts differing according to the grace that is given to us…” (Romans 12:6). And in modern scripture we read, “There are many gifts, and to every man is given a gift by the Spirit of God, that all may be profited thereby.” (Doctrine & Covenants 46:11–12). 

When we recognize and use our individual gifts together, we accomplish more than any one person could alone. Grace, when shared, becomes strength. 

So I ask myself daily: 

• Am I being a good steward of what God has given me? 
• Do I use my recovery to lift those around me? 
• Do I use my time to help, or to hide? 

The Lord gives us gifts not to hold, but to pass along — just as He gives grace not to possess, but to pour out. 

 Whether in a church meeting or an AA gathering, the principle is the same: to serve is to lead, and to lead is to love. 

The best leaders I’ve known — both in recovery and in the gospel — are those who quietly show up when it matters most. They listen, they pray, and they give their hearts freely. They live as good stewards of the manifold grace of God. 

And that, I believe, is what Christ meant when He said, “Follow me.” 

Amen. 

The Road That Hope Builds

 

Dear Reader,

Today while working at our AA Service Center, I met a young man who arrived lost and nearly in tears. As one of our members spoke with him, gently encouraging him to attend a meeting that evening, I watched something remarkable unfold — the first glimmer of hope appeared in his eyes. Within moments, it began to shine through his face and radiate through his whole being.

It reminded me of a time when I, too, came through those same doors — uncertain, broken, and searching. I also thought of the early members of AA, who had no text, no Twelve Steps, and no roadmap. They had to forge their own way, creating the path we now walk so freely. Their courage and persistence built the very road of recovery on which so many now find their footing.

Lin Yutang once wrote, “Hope is like a road in the country; there was never a road, but when many people walk on it, the road comes into existence.”
Hope is not a place we find—it’s a path we create. It becomes real only when many walk it together. The road of recovery, faith, or service does not preexist; it is formed by footsteps—by those who dare to believe, to serve, and to keep going even when the way isn’t visible.

A reflection from Hazelden expresses the same truth: “Try to do your day’s work the way you believe God wants you to do it, never shirking any responsibility and often going out of your way to be of service.”
Faith is not merely belief; it is action. Each act of service, each small willingness to go out of our way, paves another stretch of that unseen road. Through consistent work done “the way we believe God wants,” we become co-builders in the divine process of hope.

Each path we follow, even when we stumble, is not a detour—it is the very terrain upon which steadfastness is born. The apostle James expressed this beautifully:
“Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” (James 1:2–4)

So what do we gain by walking the path of hope?
We discover that divine strength is always available, even when unseen. As Moroni testified:
“Faith is things which are hoped for and not seen; wherefore, dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith.” (Ether 12:6)

Reflective Thought:
Faith is the daily act of walking where no path exists, trusting that each small step—every kindness, every trial met with courage—lays another stone on the road of hope for those who will come after us.

What example can you find in your daily experience, as I found this morning?
Amen.

From Children of Men to Children of God: The Journey of Divine Identity

 

Dear Reader,

Scripture calls us “the children of men.” The phrase humbles us — reminding us of our mortal nature, shared fragility, and dependence on divine mercy. Yet, woven through that same sacred record is another invitation — to awaken as “the children of God.” Between these two truths lies the story of our spiritual ascent: from earth to heaven, from ignorance to light, from mere existence to divine awareness.

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Children of Men — The Mortal Condition

The phrase “children of men” echoes through ancient and modern scripture alike.
In Psalm 14:2, “The Lord looked down from heaven upon the children of men.”
In 1 Nephi 6:5, Nephi writes, “The things which are of worth unto the children of men.”

These passages anchor our humanity — we are born of the dust, bound by weakness, and shaped by experience. The “children of men” phrase reveals our shared identity as part of a vast family of mortality. It calls us to humility and compassion, recognizing that all walk the same road of learning, failure, and grace.

The Gospel of Mary deepens this image. Mary speaks of the soul’s descent into form and its eventual return to its spiritual root:

“All nature, every modeled form, all creature exist in and with each other, and they will be resolved again into their own roots.” (Mary 8:10–18)

Her words remind us that to be “children of men” is not shameful — it is the necessary starting point of every soul’s journey. Matter is not the enemy of spirit; it is its temporary home.

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Children of God — The Divine Invitation

Through Christ, we are invited to rise.
Paul writes: “The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God.” (Romans 8:16)
And John declares: “Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God.” (1 John 3:1)

The Book of Mormon echoes this covenantal identity: “Because of the covenant which ye have made, ye shall be called the children of Christ.” (Mosiah 5:7)

The Gospel of Thomas captures this same spiritual awakening in language both mystical and luminous:

“The Kingdom is inside of you and it is outside of you. When you come to know yourselves, then you will be known, and you will realize that you are the sons of the living Father.” (Thomas 3)

This is the turning point — when awareness pierces the veil of mortality.
To know ourselves as divine creations is to remember that we came from light.
As Thomas continues:

“If they say to you, ‘Where do you come from?’ say, ‘We came from the light, the place where the light came into being by itself.’” (Thomas 50)

The invitation is clear: to live as children of God is not to escape the world, but to illuminate it.

“There is light within a person of light, and it shines on the whole world.” (Thomas 24)

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The Bridge — Awakening Through Grace

The bridge between children of men and children of God is not built of effort alone, but of revelation. It is the Spirit that whispers our true identity, just as it whispered to Mary that the soul, once freed from ignorance, proclaims:

“What binds me has been slain, what surrounds me has been overcome, desire has been ended, and ignorance is dead.” (Mary 9:15–20)

The child of man, awakened by grace, discovers that nothing mortal can define what is eternal. Each act of love, repentance, or service restores a piece of our original light.

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Closing Reflection

We are all born as children of men, but heaven calls us to remember our first home.
To live as children of God is to see the divine light within every person — and to live in such a way that others might see it too.

“We came from the light, and to the light we shall return.”

Recovery — A “Gift of God”

Dear Reader,

In preparation for this Sunday’s Elders Forum, we were invited to study a talk by Elder Patrick Kearon of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles (April 2025 General Conference). Elder Kearon reminds us that we are sons and daughters of a loving Heavenly Father—heirs to every good gift He offers.

He explains that every true gift has three sacred parts:

1. Giving – The giver prepares and offers the gift with love.

2. Accepting and Opening – The receiver willingly unwraps and explores what has been given.

3. Receiving – The most important part. Truly receiving means valuing the gift, using it, and remembering the giver with gratitude.

The Gift of Recovery

As I pondered Elder Kearon’s message, I thought of recovery itself as one of God’s greatest gifts.

Every newcomer or returning member is offered a place in a fellowship of sober, loving people—companions who extend a hand and say, “Keep coming back.” This invitation, like a divine gift, is given with genuine love and hope.

To accept and open this gift requires willingness—the humble readiness to trust a God of our understanding, a sponsor, and a fellowship where grace can have its perfect work. In the Twelve Steps we learn to surrender, to open our hearts and souls to healing, and to let the miracle unfold. Many of us find ourselves “amazed before we are halfway through.”

Finally, the truest part of receiving this gift is to live it and share it—to apply the principles of recovery in all our affairs and to pass it on to others still suffering. Gratitude becomes the natural expression of a soul that has received a divine gift and is determined to honor the Giver.

The Greatest Giver

Though Elder Kearon spoke of spiritual gifts, I have found that my recovery is one of the greatest spiritual gifts Heavenly Father has given me. I cherish it daily by practicing gratitude, service, and humility. Through this daily devotion, my relationship with Him grows stronger.

As Elder Kearon teaches:

“Heavenly Father is the greatest giver. Every good thing comes from Him—light, truth, and blessings of all kinds. But none of these gifts would be possible without His greatest gift: His Son, Jesus Christ. Through Christ’s Atonement and Resurrection, every other blessing becomes possible.”

When we stay connected to our Higher Power, we begin to see that we do not have to earn His love—it is already ours. We must only believe it and let it in. The past, no matter how heavy, cannot outweigh His mercy. None of us are perfect, but it is in the striving that grace and peace find us.

A Changed Life

As we receive this truth deep within our hearts, everything changes. We see ourselves and others differently. We recognize God’s love more clearly. Our relationship with the Savior deepens, and our lives fill with peace, beauty, and purpose.

Keep coming back. Amen.

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Key Scripture Connections:

• James 1:17 — “Every good gift… is from above.”

• Moses 1:39 — “This is my work and my glory—to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.”

• Moroni 10:8, 30 — “Deny not the gifts of God… come unto Christ.”