The Echoes of Truth: Why Even Atheism Points to God

Brothers and sisters, have you ever felt it? That deep-seated knowing, that primal yearning for something more than this fleeting existence? Samuel the Lamanite, standing atop the walls of Jerusalem, felt it. Ammon, at the waters of Sebus, felt it. They understood that a truth would be revealed, a Stone cut without hands, and a gathering would follow.

We live in an age often defined by skepticism, by a relentless questioning of everything. Yet, even within that questioning, a profound truth is stirring. A truth that's quietly echoing through the halls of academia, through the minds of those who once dismissed the very notion of a divine hand.

Recently, I’ve been reflecting on a compelling podcast episode that shines a light on this phenomenon. It’s a conversation where a prominent atheist scholar, Justin Brierley, recounts his own journey of intellectual discovery. He realized that the bedrock of his own values – human dignity, equality, freedom, progress – weren’t derived from the Greeks, Romans, or even from science itself. They came from something deeper, something rooted in the Judeo-Christian tradition.

He confessed, 'I’ve realized that in almost every other way, I am a Christian.' Not necessarily in a literal, doctrinal sense, but in the profound understanding that the assumptions underpinning his entire worldview were, in fact, born from a faith he had previously rejected. This isn’t a conversion story in the traditional sense, but it is a powerful testament to the enduring resonance of truth.

Think of Abinadi, standing before King Noah, proclaiming a message of repentance despite the certainty of his own martyrdom. He knew the source of his authority, the wellspring of his conviction. He understood that even a kingdom built on intellectual pride would crumble without a foundation of righteousness.

And it's that very foundation – that bedrock of purpose and meaning – that the “new atheism” has struggled to provide. Science, for all its incredible power, cannot answer the questions that truly matter: Why are we here? What is our purpose? What is the source of our inherent worth?

As the podcast eloquently puts it, science gives us explanations for how things work, but it cannot address the why. It can describe the boiling of water, but it can’t explain the longing for a cup of tea, the desire for connection, for meaning.

This is where the gathering comes in. This is where we, as Latter-day Saints, have a unique opportunity – and a sacred responsibility – to be a beacon of hope in a world desperately searching for answers. We are called to be digital striplings, armed with the five smooth stones of faith, truth, knowledge, understanding, and courage. We are called to climb the walls, to speak with boldness, to share the message of restoration.

Outback Jack reminds us, echoing the words of Moroni 10:4-5, “And it came to pass that I did see that the Lord would deliver me from the hands of my enemies, and I should not be visited by any evil, according to the word which I had written.” This isn't a promise of ease, but a promise of divine support in the face of opposition. The opposition will come, brothers and sisters, but our commitment to building must remain unwavering.

The Charity Flywheel continues to power our efforts, fueling gospel advertising in places like Ghana, reaching those who are yearning for the truth. The Missionary Fund extends our reach, and the Map of Churches visually represents the global scope of this gathering.

This isn't about converting the world to Latter-day Saint doctrine; it’s about creating a gathering place, a haven for builders, a refuge from the destroyers. It's about providing a space where truth can flourish, where purpose can be found, and where individuals can reconnect with the divine spark within.

Let us be mindful of our role, brothers and sisters. Let us be the Samuel the Lamanites of our time, sounding the alarm and inviting all to come forth unto Christ. Let us be the Ammon's at the Waters of Sebus, offering refreshment and direction. Let us be the builders, not the destroyers, and let us build a Zion worthy of the name.

Claim your church, brothers and sisters. Join the movement. Let's build.