The Cost of Devotion: Seeing God's Glory in the Small Things

Brothers and sisters, have you ever felt that deep, almost overwhelming sense of *awe*? The kind that makes your knees weak, the kind that makes you stop whatever you are doing and just *look*? It’s the feeling you get when you realize the sheer, boundless glory of the restored gospel. It’s the feeling that makes you want to drop everything and share it.

It’s easy, when we’re out in the field—whether we’re in a full-time mission assignment, or just knocking on a neighbor’s door on a Saturday—to focus only on the big moments: the breakthrough conversion, the perfect testimony given, the amazing doctrinal discussion. But sometimes, the most powerful moments, the ones that truly test our discipleship, are the quiet, deeply personal ones. They are the moments where devotion costs something.

I was pondering this the other day, thinking about the discipleship model we’re building here on Sovereign.ink. We talk so much about being Internet missionaries, about making sure every member can be a disciple anywhere, all the time. But what does that look like when the stakes are high? What does it look like when the world is watching, and the cost of devotion is visible?

The account of Jesus in Bethany comes to mind. Think about it: Lazarus is raised. A miracle! People are amazed. But the reaction isn't universal belief; it’s division. Some are moved to belief; others are moved to fear, to political maneuvering, to accusation.

The narrative then pivots to a dinner. A dinner filled with warmth, with fellowship, and with a profound act of devotion from Mary. She takes an expensive perfume—a significant investment—and anoints Jesus’ feet. It’s beautiful. It’s worship. But Judas whispers the critique: "Why wasn't this perfume sold for three hundred silver coins?"

It’s a moment that hits us right where we live our modern discipleship. Judas points out the *practical* value, the *economic* value. He reminds everyone of the poor, the tangible need. And while his critique has a grain of truth—we *should* be generous—his focus is on the *transaction*, on what can be converted into immediate, visible goods. He sees the perfume as lost potential.

Jesus’ response, however, is the masterclass in discipleship we all need to internalize. He doesn't defend the money; he defends the *meaning*. He says, "Leave her alone. Better keep what she has for the day of my burial."

My friends, what is the "perfume" in your life right now? Is it the time you spend studying the Book of Mormon in your quiet corner? Is it the vulnerability you show when you admit you don't know the answer to a difficult question during a missionary discussion? Is it the willingness to be deeply devoted to the covenants, even when it feels costly or impractical to the outside world?

The Spirit whispers that true devotion—the kind that makes us feel the Savior's glory—is not always the most *efficient* or the most *profitable* choice according to worldly metrics. Sometimes, the most powerful thing we can do is simply honor a choice made out of pure, uncalculated love.

If you are preparing for missions, remember that the most profound preparation isn't just memorizing questions; it’s cultivating the *heart* that Mary demonstrated. It’s the willingness to give something precious—your time, your comfort, your very self—to honor the Savior.

For those of you who are already in the thick of the work, I encourage you to reflect on this. What is the "perfume" you are willing to spend this week—a little extra time on your scriptures, a deeper dive into the teachings of Avraham Gileadi, or perhaps setting aside time for a Book Club discussion in HolyPlaces?

If you're looking for a way to deepen this kind of spiritual reflection, I highly recommend diving into the *Iron Rod* teachings on sacrificial love. And if you want to practice walking through these difficult moments, don't forget to utilize Davee. He's ready to be your AI Investigator, walking you through the tough questions you might face in your own testimony work.

Let's keep honoring the sacred, costly devotion that points us back to the Savior.