There is a quiet assumption many of us carry when we hear the phrase “gathering Israel.” We imagine bold declarations, convincing explanations, or perfectly-timed testimonies. We imagine movements that are visible, measurable, and immediate.
But lived discipleship teaches something different.
The Lord’s work rarely advances through pressure. More often, it unfolds through proximity. Through trust built slowly. Through relationships nurtured patiently. Through love that feels safe enough to stay.
The Gathering Happens in the Space Between Us
President Russell M. Nelson taught:
“The gathering is the most important thing taking place on earth today.”
Yet the how of that gathering is frequently misunderstood. The Savior Himself modeled a ministry rooted not in urgency, but in presence. He walked with people. He ate with them. He wept with them. He healed them where they were, not where others thought they should be.
The gathering of Israel is not a sales pitch. It is an invitation—extended gently, repeatedly, and without coercion.
What Public Affairs Taught Me About the Kingdom of God
During my time serving in public affairs for the Church in Texas, I witnessed this principle in action. I worked alongside leaders from many faith traditions: Catholic, Baptist, Jewish, Muslim—each deeply devoted to their communities.
We did not begin with theology. We began with shared concern.
When hurricanes devastated neighborhoods, those relationships became lifelines. Because trust already existed, collaboration followed naturally. Faith communities showed up together—clearing debris, distributing food, organizing shelter—not because we agreed on doctrine, but because we agreed on compassion.
The gathering was happening, not into pews but into purpose.
Service Creates Sacred Pathways
I saw the same truth in underprivileged neighborhoods, where consistent service spoke louder than any explanation of belief. And I saw it again through a nonprofit called Ground Angels, which provides free transportation for cancer patients traveling to treatment.
Our stake Relief Society sisters sewed quilts for those patients—simple, tangible reminders that someone cared enough to prepare warmth in advance. Those quilts accompanied riders on long, exhausting journeys toward healing.
No one asked for religious affiliation. No one required belief. Love led first.
And love gathered.
“What Do You Call Your Higher Power?”
One of the most tender reminders of this truth came through a conversation with a woman of the Baptist faith. I mentioned attending a Christmas Eve candlelight service in Salt Lake City. She warmly invited me to attend her local Baptist church’s candlelight service as well.
When she learned I was a Latter-day Saint, she paused and asked, “What do you call your higher power?”
I replied simply, “God, but I call Him Father.”
She pulled me into a bone-crushing hug and said, “Good for you.”
In that moment, there was no debate, only recognition. No correction, only connection. We met each other on holy ground we already shared.
Breaking Bread Across Faiths
One of the most sacred invitations I ever received did not come in the form of a theological discussion, but an open seat at a table.
Through a business organization, I became close friends with a Muslim couple. They knew I was a Latter-day Saint and our faith identities were never hidden, but neither were they barriers. During the holy month of Ramadan, they invited me to join them for iftar, the evening meal that breaks the daily fast at sunset.
It was an honor to be invited into that space.
As we broke bread together, I observed the depth of their devotion, their reverence, their gratitude, their intentionality in worship. The meal was not rushed. It was sacred. I felt the quiet holiness of a people who had oriented their entire day around God.
That shared meal deepened our friendship in ways words never could.
Later, that same trust extended into another holy space when they invited me to their daughter’s wedding. Once again, I was welcomed, not as an outsider, but as a friend. I witnessed profound love for family, deep faith, and a community bound together by covenant and commitment.
No one was gathering anyone away from their faith. We were gathering toward understanding.
Love Is the Common Language of the Faithful
Experiences like these have taught me that the gathering of Israel often happens through shared humanity long before shared belief. When we honor one another’s sacred practices, we create space where hearts soften and relationships grow.
Breaking bread together—whether at an iftar meal, a hurricane relief site, or a Relief Society quilting table—has always been one of God’s most effective tools. Because love in every faithful tradition is still the holiest invitation.
The Savior Gathers Without Force
Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf reminded us:
“Love is the defining characteristic of a disciple of Jesus Christ.”
Love does not rush. Love listens. Love stays when outcomes are uncertain.
The Lord gathers Israel the same way He healed the woman at the well, through conversation. The same way He called fishermen, through relationship. The same way He restored Peter, through patience.
Scriptures That Teach a Gentle Gathering
- Doctrine & Covenants 18:10 – “The worth of souls is great in the sight of God.”
- Matthew 11:28–29 – “Come unto me…for I am meek and lowly in heart.”
- John 13:34–35 – “By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.”
- Mosiah 18:8–9 – “Mourn with those that mourn…comfort those that stand in need of comfort.”
- Alma 7:11–12 – Christ descends below all things so He can succor His people according to their infirmities.
These are not scriptures of persuasion. They are scriptures of presence.
The Work Moves at the Speed of Love
If gathering Israel feels slow, it may be because we are measuring it incorrectly.
The Lord is not counting conversions the way we count metrics. He is counting moments of trust. Moments of safety. Moments when someone feels seen rather than managed.
The kingdom of God expands every time love creates room for someone to stay.
And that work—holy, relational, redemptive work—will always move at the speed of love.
Beth Young is a convert of 48 years; served a mission in North Carolina; has been married for 38 years to her sweetheart, Bob; has five adult children and two grandchildren. She raised her family in Texas for 25 years where she served in various capacities in church and in her community. She moved to Utah eight years ago and loves writing, teaching, and inspiring others to make changes to their physical, mental, and spiritual health. Beth is the owner of 5 Pillars of Health, serves as the written content manager at Leading Saints, and is a master gardener.
