Farewell Talk

My talk was inspired by a few lines from the message from the First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve Apostles in my Missionary Handbook, which reads: “When you serve a mission with all your heart, you help fulfill the two great commandments: ‘Love the Lord thy God… [and] love thy neighbor as thyself.’” (D&C 59:5–6)

Often, we say we are sacrificing time, consecrating it to the Lord’s sacred work of bringing souls unto God, but time is not the only gift we give. One far more precious in His eyes is asked of us: all your heart. In that same chapter of Doctrine and Covenants, it is said: “Thou shalt offer a sacrifice unto the Lord thy God in righteousness, even that of a broken heart and a contrite spirit.” Even more than all of our hearts, we are asked specifically for a broken heart. All He asks is that I enter this mission willingly, offering my broken heart.

No person I may teach will be touched by a heart that is closed off from emotion, pain, or compassion. My heart must be open, humble, and broken. Being broken does not—and should not—align with the negative connotations the world has surrounded with such a word. Broken is beautiful. Broken is submissive, meek. Broken is raw and real.

To me, being broken means the cracks and imperfections are open to the healing, merciful hand of the Savior. It means you let yourself love a little deeper and see a little clearer, recognizing and feeling the hurt, sorrow, and pain in your neighbors, allowing empathy and love to enter your heart. Brokenness leads to becoming—potential and refinement that we scarcely see in ourselves but God sees fully and completely in us.

I recently talked to a friend I deeply admire and continually look up to as an example of an extraordinary missionary. I told her I was worried about saying something meaningful, that I wouldn’t know how to touch the people I was sent to serve. She said something I will never forget: “There is someone out there that needs a Corinne.”

There is someone out there who needs me—in all my imperfections. The Lord has, in His own way, prepared me and the people I will be blessed to teach and serve. He will take me as I am, for that is all He cares about—not where I was or what I’ve done, but who I am now and what I desire to do now. He will take weak things and make them strong. He will take my broken heart to heal the brokenhearted, preach the gospel to the poor, and set at liberty those that are bruised.

How great is the work of the Lord! How beautiful is His mission! How glorious are the fruits of this labor: to see the Spirit fill the hearts of His children, to see their burdens lifted, their light restored, and to witness them accept Jesus Christ as their Savior, their Redeemer, the Shepherd who would leave the ninety and nine to seek after the one. He would tenderly hold each little lamb in His arms and bring them home to the fold.

I feel truly humbled to know that God trusts me with His children. He trusts me, and as Nephi said, I say now: “O Lord, I have trusted in thee, and I will trust in thee forever.” I trust Him with my heart—broken and all. I trust that He sees what I cannot, that He will meet me where I am in all my inadequacy and unpreparedness, and somehow touch the broken heart of someone else.

Christ will heal their hearts, as He has healed mine and will again. But He will not close them. I love the paintings of Paige Payne, in which she depicts people, including the Savior, with cracks in their bodies filled with beautiful gold lacquer. This technique, called Kintsugi, means “gold joinery.” The gold heals but does not erase the cracks; instead, it highlights them.

I often think of the nail prints in the Savior’s hands. Even after His resurrection, He kept them. He allowed His body to remain a little broken so that all would recognize Him and know of His love for them. In 3 Nephi, Jesus appeared in the Americas and invited the multitude to come forth, “thrust their hands into His side,” and “feel the prints of the nails in His hands and in His feet.” They went forth, one by one, until all had done so.

He sees you. He knows you. Imagine standing among the people of Nephi as Christ kneels beside you, touching your palm to His, wrapping His arms around you, and calling you by name, saying, “I love you.” By His stripes, you are healed. His broken heart heals yours.

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland said: “However dim our days may seem, they have been darker for the Savior of the world. In fact, in a resurrected, otherwise perfected body, our Lord has chosen to retain...the wounds in His hands, His feet, and His side—signs...that pain in this world is not evidence that God doesn’t love you. It is the wounded Christ who is the captain of our soul.”

I want my heart to remain a little broken so that all I serve will recognize my love and know I have endured and struggled. I offer myself, broken heart and all, to submit to His will and fulfill my purpose: to invite, serve, and love with an open, broken heart.

Choosing to serve this mission was inspired partly by my time in Alaska, working at the Williams Reindeer Farm. I went to learn independence and work with animals, but God had more in store for me. He wanted me to grow, to love His children with a broken heart open to understanding. I met people from all walks of life, and God helped me listen.

One woman I met was joyful despite years of abuse and suffering. Her resilience reminded me that God’s children are constantly fighting invisible battles. It is our mission to show them love and hope.

The Lord said, “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” This is the truth I will share: the Savior will carry you when life is too much.

I testify that God can and will work through me. Through Christ’s Atonement, His children will be touched and healed, and my weaknesses will be made strong.