Return unto Me… That I May Heal You

Based on “Return unto Me… that I may heal you” — Elder S. Mark Palmer of the Seventy

Today I want to speak to you about something that all of us will find relevant in our lives. It is not something that should be considered only in an abstract or theoretical way. Rather, it is a real, lived, doctrinal principle that touches almost every family, every ward, and every generation that has received the gospel.

The topic addressed in Elder Palmer’s talk is simple, yet deeply important:

People who leave the gospel. People who stay in the gospel. And people who return to the gospel of Jesus Christ.

To lay a foundation, I would like to share the story that Elder Palmer taught about a willow tree in his yard.

The Willow Tree

Elder S. Mark Palmer shared the story of a willow tree that was blown over in a storm and looked beyond saving, with its roots torn from the ground. He was ready to cut it down, assuming it was finished. But a neighbor noticed that one root was still intact and urged him to give the tree another chance. By propping it up, cutting back its damaged branches, and nourishing it, they allowed it to recover. Over time, the tree took root again and eventually became strong, healthy, and even more beautiful than before—showing that what appears lost can still be healed and restored with patience and care.

This story is an allegory—but not just of those who leave the gospel, and not only of those who return. It is also a story about those who stay. In reality, it is an allegory of all of us.

We Are All the Tree

At different times in our lives, we are each tested by storms, shaken to our very roots, humbled by weakness, and forced to choose whether we will keep growing. Whether we have wandered, returned, or remained, every one of us is learning how to be sustained by Christ and nourished by His grace throughout our lifelong journey of faith. None of us can stand alone, and none of us should try to do so.

Because of this, I believe we must resist the temptation to categorize people by their current “status” in or out of the gospel. Instead, we should see one another as fellow sons and daughters of God—brothers and sisters walking different stretches of the same road, each doing the best we can with the light, knowledge, and understanding we have been given.

In Elder Palmer’s story, the tree did not heal itself. It needed help. It needed someone willing to stop, notice the remaining root, and believe that there was still life there. It needed support, pruning, nourishment, time, and patience.

In the same way, none of us grow in isolation. None of us become strong in faith on our own. We are meant to sustain one another, strengthen one another, and walk with one another—especially in moments of weakness, moments that all of us experience from time to time.

Elder Palmer also reminded us that the journey back is often uncomfortable. The willow had its branches cut away. It looked exposed. It looked vulnerable. It was not impressive in the early stages of its recovery.

Likewise, returning to faith—or continuing in faith after a difficult season—can feel humbling. It requires letting go of pride. It requires admitting need. It requires trusting Christ and His Church again. That process is rarely quick, and it is rarely tidy.

He taught that the tree survived because it was continually nourished. It needed water, sunlight, and care over many years. In the same way, our faith is nourished through simple, consistent devotion—partaking of the sacrament, worshipping in the temple, praying, studying the scriptures, and staying sensitive to the Spirit. These quiet practices strengthen our roots and prepare us to withstand future storms.

Perhaps most importantly, Elder Palmer testified that the Lord never gives up on His children. Just as the neighbor saw potential in the fallen tree, the Savior sees divine potential in each of us. He knows what we can become—even when we cannot yet see it ourselves. Through His Atonement, what is broken can be healed, what is weakened can be strengthened, and what seems lost can be restored.

How We Respond to Those Who Struggle

So when we see someone struggling, questioning, stepping away, or quietly trying to come back, our role is not to judge their past—or even to judge the decisions they are making right now. Our role is to believe in their future. It is to offer patience instead of pressure, compassion instead of comparison, and love instead of labels. It is to patiently seek to understand their perspective—their experiences, emotions, and struggles—and then, from that place of understanding, to reach out and truly help them.

People do not make choices that they believe are irrational, foolish, or baseless. Every person acts according to what seems reasonable and justified to them at the time—shaped by emotion, experience, pain, love, anger, compassion, and hope. To assume that someone leaves the gospel without what feels to them like real and valid reasons is to misunderstand them so deeply that we lose the ability to truly help them.

Instead, we must approach them with compassion and love, seeking first to understand before we seek to correct.

This means maintaining relationships of trust. It means refusing to belittle, berate, or dismiss sincere concerns. It means never suggesting that honest questions are stupid, baseless, or lacking intelligence or sincerity. Faith crises are not signs of weakness. They are often signs of deep thought and serious wrestling with truth.

With real empathy, we should try to understand another’s point of view. We should also be willing to learn from those who regularly help people through crises of faith, because there are thoughtful, faithful responses to nearly every sincere concern—if we know where to look. Our role is not to force answers, but to walk beside others as they discover truth for themselves.

We must never shame or judge, but always teach and invite. We can help others see that in the scriptures are the words of God, and that through study, prayer, and the Holy Ghost, answers come—often gradually and often in unexpected ways. Patience is part of the process.

The Danger of Misplaced Compassion

At the same time, while compassion and empathy are essential, we must also recognize that not all forms of empathy are healthy. There is such a thing as misplaced or unhealthy compassion—what some have called “toxic empathy.” This happens when our desire to be loving becomes so strong that we begin to excuse, affirm, or even participate in choices that we know are harmful.

Sometimes, especially within families, this can happen when a loved one leaves the gospel through transgression or deliberate rebellion. Out of fear of losing the relationship, or out of deep emotional pain, a parent or family member may feel pressured to fully affirm choices that are contrary to God’s commandments. In doing so, they may believe they are being loving—when in reality, they are slowly distancing themselves from truth.

True Christlike love is never conditional, but neither is it dishonest. The Savior never withdrew His love from sinners, yet He also never told them that sin was acceptable. He said, “Neither do I condemn thee,” and then He added, “Go, and sin no more.” He offered mercy and truth together. He embraced people without embracing their rebellion.

There is an important difference between loving someone and endorsing everything they do. We can remain close, kind, supportive, and loyal without surrendering our convictions. We can listen without compromising. We can show patience without abandoning principle. We can keep relationships strong without weakening our testimony.

Thus we can also teach an important principle: that faith is rarely a simple either-or choice. There are times when two ideas seem to conflict, and people feel they must choose only one. Many assume that if both cannot be immediately reconciled, one must be false. But often, both are true—and what is missing is deeper understanding. The problem is not contradiction; it is incomplete information. Our opportunity is to help provide that understanding, or to help ourselves and others patiently seek it, rather than walking away when answers are not immediate.

Becoming Instruments of Restoration

When we choose understanding over judgment, we become part of the Lord’s work of restoration. We become instruments in His hands to help wounded—but still living—willows rise again.

And in the end, this story invites each of us to ask not only, “Will I remain faithful?” but also, “What kind of disciple will I be to others?” Will I be quick to cut down, or quick to lift up? Will I focus on appearances, or on roots? Will I make room for healing?

If we follow the Savior’s example, the answer will always be the same: we will choose to love, to wait, to nurture, and to hope—trusting that, in His time, every willing soul can grow strong again. We will remember that no one’s journey is the same as ours, that no one’s experiences are identical to ours, and that there is a Good Shepherd watching over all.

We can trust that in the end, it will be well for all of us. Jesus Christ is the Redeemer of Israel. He is mighty to save. He is patient. He is merciful. And He desires the salvation of every soul.

This life is the time to prepare to meet Him, it is true. But none of us prepare in the same way, through the same experiences, or with the same strengths and weaknesses. Part of our journey is learning to trust Him, to rely on His power, and to know that He desires to save us—no matter where we have been, and no matter how many times we have stumbled. We also need to trust in His power and mercy with respect to others as well. He desires to save them as much as us, and their journey although different may in the end be exactly what they needed in this life to progress. We should indeed exercise great faith in Him who is mighty to save—for He is, and His promises are indeed sure, and His power is indeed sufficient for us all.

I testify that Jesus Christ lives. I testify that His Atonement is sufficient for every weakness, every doubt, and every wound. I testify that His Church is meant to be a place of healing and belonging. And I testify that through Him, every willing soul can grow strong again.

In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.