A coworker came to my desk a few months after my wedding. "How's it going?" he asked, leaning against the shelf. "How's your marriage?"
I beamed. I did a lot of beaming back in those days. "It's really good. I love being married."
He smiled. "Good. You guys seem real happy together. I think you guys will be married for at least fifty years. Till death do you part." He scratched the gray stubble on his chin. "Isn't that what they say?"
I squirmed in my seat. I sensed an opportunity to share some of my beliefs, and I am always nervous about doing so. "Actually, we were married in the temple. We didn't say 'till death do we part.' In the temple we're married for eternity." It came out in a rush, my heart pounding.
My coworked shrugged. I can never understand how a person can hear such glorious doctrine and respond with indifference. "Yeah, that's a nice concept. But how can you be sure it's true?"
How can I be sure it's true? I had never doubted it. "It's not a concept for me," I replied. "It's a certainty."
He raised his thick eyebrows. "Really? You're that sure?"
"Yeah, I am." I can't imagine not being sure. What a terror death would be if I had no reason to believe it would not be the permanent end of my marriage. What a sad and hopeless future I would have to look forward to. Of course a loving God would not subject us to such a fate. Of course He gives us the chance to make all that is most precious to us here on earth last into the eternities. I have never doubted that. It is doctrine that "tastes good."
"You could know for yourself," I told him.
I wish my conviction was enough to convince him. Maybe someday in the future I will have the chance to tell him about Priesthood authority, about the sealing keys passed down in an unbroken line from the Savior Himself, given to Joseph Smith in this dispensation by the ancient prophet Elijah. About the Holy Ghost and its power to testify truth to us, truth that may appear as foolishness to anyone else. Maybe then he would understand a little better.
His blue eyes twinkled the way they do when he is enjoying a good joke. "How about I come back after I die and tell you whether it's true or not?"
I laughed. "Sure, you can. But it's not necessary because I already know what you'll say."
He shook his head, smiling. It seemed unreal to him that someone could be so sure of anything. But it is a comfort to me, in this ever-changing and uncertain world, that some things--the most important things--are certain.
Click here to learn about more things that are certain.
The Brown-Eyed Girl