It was early December of 1993. The memory is vivid. I have considered the circumstances of that morning often throughout my life. I stood in my room at the BYU Jerusalem Center, overlooking Gethsemane and the old city of Jerusalem as I wept and plead with my Father in Heaven to help me understand the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
Moments before this, I had been in the beautiful upper auditorium experiencing the final testimony meeting before my semester there would come to a close. My heart was heavy with confusion– even despair as peer after peer went up to the stand. Each seemed to express how deeply he or she believed Christ’s atonement and how their testimony of this had grown through their time in the Holy Land. As my frustration with myself grew, I instinctively got up and left. It was hard to hear everyone’s conviction of something that I was struggling to understand. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe the Atonement would work; It was that I didn’t understand why or how it worked. I wondered how the Son of God could suffer for all mankind to be saved and how that was enough.
I found myself alone in my room, praying and reading, and mostly looking out into this most wonderful city with tears streaming down my face. My prayer was that I wanted so badly to understand how His Son’s sacrifice had been enough and where the rule came from that if a perfect man suffered, everyone had the potential to be saved. Reason finally set in, and I decided that since I had faith enough to believe, that would be enough. I decided to be okay with not understanding. From that pivotal moment, I went back to the longest testimony meeting of my life, which was still underway. I was okay. I was accepting. I was faithful.
Throughout my life, when the subject of Christ’s atonement has come up, I have again thought about how I plead with my Father to help me understand. Simultaneously, I have recognized how I didn’t truly receive an answer, but that I still knew that it was okay.
In the summer of 2019, twenty-five years later, I went on a reunion trip to the Holy Land with two of my past professors and a busload of my peers, many of whom had studied at the center as I had. We had a great week full of learning and adventure. It was a meaningful tour. In many ways, I felt that life had come full-circle with our return. I was not looking for astounding spiritual experiences nor profound realizations. I was just enjoying myself. Sunday was our last full day in the Holy Land. That morning we visited Gethsemane. As Professor Brent Top led us into a private section of the garden, for just a moment, I briefly flashed back to that morning of despair and pleading that led to my resolve to be faithful despite my lack of understanding. The thought passed.
We sat in the shade on that hot August morning as Brother Top taught us again about the atonement, much like he had two and a half decades before. Toward the end of his remarks, I was only passively listening when he said, “The Atonement is both infinite and intimate.” He explained what that means to us each personally. And then as he said something like, “It was so much to atone for that a God had to suffer and die to atone for our sins…” Suddenly, it was like the Holy Ghost had sent a surge of energy through my body to make sure I was paying attention, just as those words were spoken. I have felt like talks were geared toward me, but this time I knew that my Father in Heaven had a message just for me and wanted to make sure I was paying attention. Believe me, He got my full attention.
I knew immediately the message: Jesus was not just the Son of God. Jesus was not just a man, but He, Himself, was a God. All of my lack of understanding was suddenly replaced by complete understanding. Christ is a God and had been a God before His ultimate sacrifice. He was perfect in every way, and His sacrifice was more than enough to save each and every one of us, no matter how flawed we are. The jolt was enough to keep me from rationalizing that away. Nothing was ever truer to me than this fact was in this moment.
The tears came again that morning in Gethsemane, but not in desperation. This time, the tears were tears of pure joy. I knew immediately that I had received an answer. Then, I realized that the answer had come during the 25 year reunion from when I had asked, in the place that I had literally looked to for an answer to my prayer, surrounded by many of the same peers who had shared their testimony in that very testimony meeting that had prompted me to search for an answer.
I kept this profoundly spiritual experience to myself as we left the Garden and headed to the Jerusalem Center for sacrament meeting. Once the meeting started, many of us on the tour had the same impression when we looked around at the Center students. It seemed as though we were looking at ourselves as we had been 25 years before. This made me very emotional, but when they announced that this was the closing testimony meeting for the students who were there that semester, I could not keep it together. It was far more than a coincidence, considering what I had on my mind and in my heart all morning.
Perhaps what brought on the most tears that day was the knowledge that my Heavenly Father loves me as an individual. He hears and answers my prayers. He heard my prayers when I was 20 years old, and he answered them in an unforgettable way two and a half decades later. He had not forgotten me nor my question.
This story was written by April Giddings Cobb who was a student in Fall 1993.