By Joelle Wight, Council of Presidents of 70

We know that we have passed from death to life because we love one another. Whoever does not love abides in death. We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us—and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?

We gathered in a small cabin in Norway from across Europe. We came from different countries, spoke different languages, and lived different life experiences. On the surface, we did not look like a community that should have fit easily together. And yet we came with a shared longing: to encounter God again through the wildness of creation.

For several days we hiked, reflected, prayed, and listened, both to one another and to the land around us. Mountains held our silence. Moss muffled our footsteps. The early darkness invited us inward. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, strangers became companions.

Throughout the retreat, we quietly hoped for one unlikely gift: the chance to see the Northern Lights. We knew it was possible, but only barely. Norway had offered us beauty already; we tried not to ask for more.

On our final night, we sat together sharing reflections on what the week had meant. Gratitude filled the room. Then my phone buzzed with a weather alert: aurora activity visible in our area. Instantly the cabin erupted. We grabbed coats, boots, scarves, whatever we could find, and ran out into the bitter cold. There above us, green ribbons of light moved across the black sky, shifting and dancing in ways that felt almost unreal.

Our noisy excitement soon quieted as we stood speechless. The cold drove us inside every few minutes, but wonder pulled us back out again. Over and over, we returned to the night sky together, unable to leave what was unfolding above us. For twenty minutes or so, we stood as one body under those lights, people who had arrived as individuals from scattered places now held in a shared moment of awe.

What struck me most was that the community being born there was larger than the human circle gathered at that cabin. We were connected not only to one another, but to something beyond us and among us. The sky itself felt like participant, witness, and host. The frozen air, the darkness, the mountain silence, the shimmering lights, all of creation seemed to draw us into relationship.

In that moment I sensed God giving us a glimpse of Community of Christ’s peaceable kin-dom: a community not confined to human belonging alone, but one expansive enough to include the sacred more-than-human world. Under the Northern Lights, I felt the boundaries of community widen, and creation itself became our companion in praise

Prayer Phrase

“a new community…is being born” (Doctrine and Covenants 164:5).

Spiritual Community

Meditate on a time when you experienced true belonging—a moment when someone welcomed you, listened to you, encouraged you, or reminded you that you were not walking the journey of faith alone. Prayerfully consider the qualities that help build a Christ-centered community: hospitality, compassion, forgiveness, patience, courage, joy, and a willingness to walk alongside one another. Offer a prayer of gratitude for the communities that have shaped you and a prayer of commitment to help create spaces where all people can experience the love, peace, and presence of Christ.

Today’s Prayer for Peace

Engage in a daily practice of praying for peace in our world. Click here to read today’s prayer and be part of this practice of peace.