Scripture reading is about more than getting spiritual information. It trains attention, patience, memory, imagination, and the ability to sit with sacred things long enough for them to change us.

A recent Deseret News article raised a question I have not been able to shake: if deep reading is declining, what happens to our ability to engage deeply with God? The article points to a broader “reading recession,” including lower reading levels, less reading for pleasure, and a culture trained by short-form content to skim instead of ponder.

That matters for discipleship. Scripture does not usually work like a notification. It works more like a seed. You have to give it time, attention, and room to grow.

That is why the decline of deep reading should concern us. When our attention atrophies, it becomes harder to sit with a verse long enough for the Spirit to teach us. When our vocabulary shrinks, we may lose some of the language we need to name sacred experiences, wrestle with doctrine, or express what God is doing in us.

Reading also strengthens reflection. It teaches us to pause, compare, remember, and connect ideas across time. Without that practice, spirituality can become reactive instead of rooted.

The scriptures do not usually work like quick content. They invite us to ponder, remember, imagine, and commune with the divine. If we lose the habit of deep reading, we may not lose God’s voice, but we may become less practiced at hearing it.

A new BYU Studies report points to something President Hinckley taught for years: people need connection with the divine, a community, and a sense of belonging. Or as he said it: Nourishment from the good word of God, A Friend, and A Calling. The data matters, but the lesson is old. People stay when they experience God and feel they have a real place among His people.

The Church announced Gospel Foundations, an optional Sunday School class for new adult members, friends learning about the Church, and returning members. I like the intentional welcome. The caution is that it cannot become a way to keep people separate too long. The goal should be foundation, not isolation.

Ten new hymns were added to the growing hymnbook, and I’m sharing my personal Gospel Library playlist so you can listen and get acquainted with them. New hymns take time to become part of us, but they can open new language for worship if we give them a chance.

One common frustration I hear from presidencies is how long it can take to extend assignments, fill quorum needs, or coordinate simple acts of service. Texting can help. It is fast, clear, and often easier for busy people to respond to than another meeting or phone call.

But there are tradeoffs. A text can feel transactional. It can also make sacred service feel like filling a slot instead of receiving an invitation.

Maybe the question is not whether texting is good or bad, but what kind of assignment it is. Some things can be handled quickly. Others deserve a face-to-face conversation, a phone call, or at least a message that feels personal and prayerful.

Reply with your thoughts: When has texting helped your ward move faster, and when has it made service feel too casual?

I’m going to be honest: I sometimes have a hard time getting more out of General Conference than reading a talk and underlining a few quotes I like. And when I’m assigned to teach one, that can be even harder.

Conference talks are not lesson manuals. There is no built-in outline, no discussion guide, and no list of ready-made questions. Most of us fall into what I call the “Read-and-Comment Trap”: read a paragraph, ask what stood out, then repeat until time runs out.

That is why I created a new General Conference Prompt Library. You copy one of the prompts into your favorite AI tool, drop in the talk, and use it as a study companion.

It does not write your lesson for you. It helps you notice patterns, ask better questions, find the “so what,” and prepare in a way that leaves room for the Spirit to teach.

I keep thinking about the HipHop Homies story I shared. What stood out to me was not just the creativity. It was the reminder that service does not always have to look like a clipboard, a committee, or a program.

Sometimes service looks like showing up in someone else’s language, culture, rhythm, and world. Sometimes it means using the gifts you already have in a way nobody assigned you.

The Church needs traditional service. It also needs Saints willing to serve in new, natural, and out-of-the-box ways. Zion will probably require both.