Are You Willing to Carry the Armor?
D&C 27
Several thoughts on D&C 27 and the priesthood spurred by thoughts of some of the brethren on this section
The Priesthood: Not a Badge, But a Burden
In the quiet echo of the words found in Doctrine and Covenants 27, we are reminded of a radical, even scandalous truth: the priesthood is not a title, not an accolade, not a comforting label bestowed upon a select few to wear as armor against the world’s struggles. It is, rather, a divine force that burns with the fire of creation itself, one that has been given to us—not as a gift, but as a terrifying responsibility. We often speak of priesthood as something “holy,” as something “sacred,” as if those words somehow ease us into a comfortable, tidy understanding of what it entails. But let us not fool ourselves—this is not the priesthood of convenience, of ego, or of the “in-group.” No, it is the priesthood of wrath and mercy combined, of creation and destruction in the name of God’s ultimate plan.
Priesthood: A Trust, Not a Right
We must confront the paradox head-on: the priesthood, this sacred power that has been entrusted to us, is not our possession. The moment we start thinking of it as something to be “held,” we lose sight of its true purpose. It is not ours to control, to claim as a right, or to flaunt as a mantle of honor. It is, rather, an incomprehensible trust from God—one that demands absolute humility. The words of the Savior when He conferred the priesthood upon Joseph and Oliver must haunt us: “Bring forth the power to bring to pass the eternal life of man.” When we say these words, do we even begin to grasp the weight of them? The eternal life of man—it is not a passing comfort, not a mere “helping hand” to ease burdens. It is the fire of creation itself, burning with the weight of eternity. It is the raw, unrelenting power to build and destroy, to save and condemn, all in the name of an unfathomable love.
The Priesthood of Contradictions
We live in a time where comfort is our highest pursuit. The world seeks peace through pacification, ease through convenience, and grace through cheap absolution. Yet the priesthood—this great and terrible power—is none of these things. It does not offer comfort to the weak, but challenge to the strong. To hold the priesthood is to embrace contradiction. It is to live on the razor’s edge, always standing between the eternal and the temporal, between the wrath of God and His mercy, between the absurdity of the world’s demands and the incomprehensible will of the Divine.
A Sacred Trust: Humbling Ourselves Before God
But we are uncomfortable with this—uncomfortable with the idea that the priesthood should terrify us. For in truth, it is not the man who holds it, but the man who becomes the instrument of God’s wrath and mercy—always and constantly on the edge of destruction or creation. We are taught that it is sacred, but sacredness is not comfort. It is the divine discomfort of being a part of something so vast that we can hardly understand it. And yet, we attempt to reduce it to something we can control, something we can compartmentalize and neatly categorize. We approach it as though it is a thing to be displayed in public, a badge to announce our worth. But the priesthood is not about our worth—it is about His.
Forging the Shield of Faith in the Fire of Home
Let us now look at our homes, our families, and the question looms: Do we really believe the priesthood can be forged there, in the fire of our most mundane, human interactions? If we do, then why do we so often neglect it in our quiet, private moments? We love to speak of the “shield of faith,” as though it is something we can simply pick up when we feel the need for protection. Yet, faith is not forged in the heat of battle. It is crafted in the silence of our own hearts, in the unseen moments when no one is watching. Faith is born in the kitchen, not in the pulpit. It is fashioned in the whispered prayers of a mother, the quiet acts of service when no one else sees. The shield of faith is made not in grand declarations, but in the minute, often forgotten choices that shape the heart.
Faith: A Shield Built, Not Borrowed
We must ask ourselves: how many of us truly build this shield? Or do we simply borrow it when convenient, only to cast it aside when the battles seem too distant or too small to warrant its use? This shield is not passive—it is the very act of living with purpose. It requires work, conscious and deliberate work, to carry it day after day, moment by moment.
Testimony: The Battle of Daily Choices
And then we come to the testimony—our “true north.” How flippant we have become with this concept. We speak of it as though it is a feeling, a momentary rush of emotion. Yet, how little we realize that a testimony is not something that just happens. It is the consequence of unrelenting obedience, of sacrifice, of choices made when no one else sees. It is the result of saying no to everything the world offers and yes to the eternal promises of God. It is the quiet battle, fought in the heart, every day.
The Last Dispensation: Are We Ready?
What of our dispensation? Do we truly realize the gravity of what we have been given? Or are we too distracted, too comfortable, to notice that this is the last dispensation? We live in the time when Christ is to return. We are not living merely in a moment of history; we are living in history’s final moment. Everything we do—every choice, every action, every breath—resonates in eternity. This is not a time for complacency, for living as if tomorrow will never come. This is the time to stand—now, with faith, with conviction, and with unyielding commitment to the work of God.
The Final Question: Will We Stand?
In the words of the Lord: “Take upon you my whole armor, that ye may be able to withstand the evil day, having done all, that ye may be able to stand” (Doctrine and Covenants 27:15). And He continues: “Ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked” (Doctrine and Covenants 27:17). These words should not comfort us—they should challenge us. They should drive us to action, to a life lived on the edge of greatness and calamity, with the full understanding of the weight of the priesthood and the responsibility it entails.
The Weight of the Priesthood: A Call to Action
In every moment, we are confronted with a simple question: Do we accept this weight, this calling, this terrifying responsibility of the priesthood? Will we stand firm with our armor of faith, even as it cuts into our very soul? Will we choose to carry the shield of faith, even when it seems too heavy to bear? Or will we, once again, seek comfort, avoiding the discomfort that is the essence of discipleship? The decision is ours—and ours alone.