They Also Serve
A Memorial Day Sacrament Meeting Address
Highland Utah West Stake — May 31, 2026
Brothers and Sisters,
I am grateful for the opportunity to speak today. I do so with humility. I am not here to glorify war, nor myself, nor even the uniform I once wore.
I am here to honor service, to bear testimony of peace through Jesus Christ, and to remember those who—by choice or by call—stood in harm’s way so others could live in safety.
I am a retired United States Army Major. That is only one part of my life’s stewardship, but it helped shape who I became. Like many veterans in this congregation and across the Church, military service shaped me—sometimes in ways I anticipated, and sometimes in ways I did not.
Members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints have always served in the armed forces. From the early Saints who formed the Nauvoo Legion, to members who served in the Civil War, World Wars, Korea, Vietnam, the Cold War, the Middle East, and ongoing operations today, Latter-day Saints have worn their nation’s uniform while striving to keep their covenants.Why is that?
Because the gospel teaches agency, responsibility, and defending the innocent.
The Book of Mormon prophet Alma taught:
“And again, the Lord has said that: Ye shall defend your families, even unto bloodshed. Therefore, for this cause were the Nephites contending with the Lamanites, to defend themselves, and their families, and their lands, their country, and their rights, and their religion.”
— Alma 43:47
Captain Moroni—often cited by LDS veterans—did not love war, but he loved liberty, faith, family, and peace. He fought so others would not have to.
Many veterans have expressed some version of this truth:
“I didn’t serve because I loved war. I served because I loved peace—and I knew peace sometimes must be protected.”
Military service, in many ways, aligns closely with gospel principles:
Obedience under lawful authority
Sacrifice without guarantee of recognition
Integrity when no one is watching
Brotherhood and sisterhood across race, class, and background
Accountability for decisions that matter
Veterans understand something deeply gospel-centered: actions have consequences, and choices matter.
In uniform, you learn quickly that your decisions affect others—sometimes immediately, sometimes permanently. That reality drives many veterans to Christ, because only He can carry the full weight of human consequence.
Any honest veteran will tell you: we never served alone.
Military spouses, children, parents, and loved ones serve quietly, faithfully, and often invisibly. They endure missed birthdays, empty chairs at the dinner table, sudden relocations, uncertainty, and fear.
One military spouse once said:
“I didn’t wear the uniform—but I lived the war.”
Today, if you are the spouse, child, or parent of a veteran, please know this:
Your sacrifice is seen by God.
You sustained someone else’s calling to serve.
And for that, we thank you.
There was an experience during the Vietnam War that taught me something I have never forgotten.
I was stationed at Loc Ninh, serving as a Pathfinder and helping direct helicopter air traffic operations along the airstrip.
By day, duty was demanding.
By night, there was often tension in the darkness.
Our compound frequently came under enemy mortar and artillery fire during the night. When the alarms sounded, there was no hesitation. We immediately left our cots, moved into defensive positions, and prepared for the possibility of a ground attack.
Those were long nights.
You learn quickly in war that sleep is uncertain, tomorrow is uncertain, and life itself is uncertain.
But prayer becomes certain.
Faith becomes certain.
God becomes certain.
One night, enemy soldiers quietly penetrated layers of protection that we believed were secure. They moved through protective concertina wire, bypassed armed South Vietnamese guards, reached the end of the airstrip, and destroyed the helicopter fuel storage tanks before disappearing back into the darkness.
I remember thinking: if they could reach there… they could reach anywhere.
For a young soldier, that realization was sobering—and frightening.
Above our underground bunker at Loc Ninh there was a sign that read:
“Life—for those who fought for it—has a flavor those protected will never know.”
At the time, I understood those words in one way. Today, I understand them differently.
The greatest flavor of life is not merely survival. It is gratitude. It is faith. It is family. It is peace. And above all, it is the quiet assurance that God watches over His children.
Only weeks later, Loc Ninh became the site of a major battle, reminding me how fragile life truly is and how dependent we all are upon the Lord.
There was yet another moment in my military service that deepened that lesson even further.
I was aboard a Boeing CH-47 Chinook helicopter—a large twin-rotor aircraft designed to move troops and equipment. It is powerful, loud, and reliable. You trust it with your life without thinking much about it—until something goes wrong.
That day, we were shot down.
I will not describe details that belong outside this sacred setting. What I will say is this: in that moment, everything you assume about control, planning, and preparation disappears.
There is no rank.
No checklist.
No speech.
There is only dependence.
In those moments, I knew—without question—that my life was no longer in my own hands. I did not bargain with God. I did not make promises. I simply turned to Him with the clearest five-word prayer I have ever offered:
“Father, thy will be done.”
Some of us in that aircraft survived. None of us walked away unchanged.
Today, with reverence, I remember comrades who gave much—and some who gave all—in the cause of preserving liberty and protecting others.
I returned home, but not unchanged.
What I learned most in uniform was not how to fight—but how deeply I needed the Savior.
I learned that courage is not the absence of fear, but acting righteously despite it.
I learned that leadership means accountability. I learned that freedom is fragile, and I learned that peace at home is a sacred blessing.
Latter-day Saint veterans often speak candidly about something the world does not easily understand: moral injury.
Some wounds are not from shrapnel or bullets, but from carrying responsibility—sometimes lifelong responsibility—for decisions made in impossible circumstances.
Many veterans wrestle with questions such as:
Did I do enough?
Did I do the right thing?
Why did I come home when others did not?
The restored gospel offers something unique here: repentance, healing, and grace that are real and complete.
Jesus Christ does not only forgive sin—He heals sorrow, grief, regret, and trauma. He descended below all things, including the moral weight that veterans sometimes carry in silence.
Let me say clearly what I believe:
Latter-day Saints do not worship war. We worship the Prince of Peace.
Veterans understand peace differently than those who have never had it threatened.
Peace is not merely the absence of conflict—it is the presence of order, justice, and safety.
Isaiah prophesied of Christ:
“And he shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke many people: and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruninghooks: nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.”
— Isaiah 2:4
That is the ultimate destination of the Savior’s work.
Until that day, some are called to stand watch so others can worship freely, raise families, and gather on a Sabbath day without fear.
To the youth and young adults here today:
Some of you may feel called to military service. Some will not. Both paths are honorable.
But wherever you serve—missions, families, professions, or communities—the Lord asks the same thing He asked of faithful men and women in every dispensation:
Be faithful.
Be clean.
Be accountable.
To my fellow veterans: thank you.
To your families: thank you.
To this ward: thank you for remembering.
I testify that Jesus Christ lives.
I testify that He heals both nations and individuals.
I testify that no sacrifice made in righteousness is forgotten by Him.
May we live worthy of the peace we enjoy.
May we care for those who bore its cost.
And may we hasten the day when Christ reigns and war is no more.
As we honor Memorial Day, we remember with gratitude and reverence those who gave their lives in service to their country and never returned home.
Many families still carry that sacrifice quietly.
Many graves still bear witness to courage, duty, and love of country.
And many veterans still remember the names and faces of those with whom they served.
May we live worthy of their sacrifice.
May we cherish the peace they helped preserve.
And may we always remember that the greatest healing, the greatest hope, and the greatest peace come only through Jesus Christ.
I say these things in the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.
This address was given during Sacrament Meeting on Memorial Day weekend in honor of veterans, military families, and those who gave their lives in service to their country.