Sacrament Meeting Program

Presiding: Bishop Todd Christensen
Conducting: Bishop Todd Christensen
Opening Hymn: #1060 - Build and Ark
Invocation: By Invitation

Ward Business

Sacrament Hymn: # #169 - As Now We Take the Sacrament
Administration of the Sacrament

Testimony Meeting

Closing Hymn: #124 - Be Still, My Soul
Benediction: By Invitation

Lost Luggage, Redeemed Souls

By Elder Gary E. Stevenson
Of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles

Lost Luggage, Redeemed Souls

By Elder Gary E. Stevenson

Of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles

As disciples of Jesus Christ, we rise with renewed determination to succor and care for those with whom we come in contact.

Forgotten, Neglected, or Lost

Have you ever stood at an empty airport luggage return carousel, as it circles endlessly, wondering if your bag somehow was diverted to Kathmandu? Have you ever been told the last known location of your checked bag was somewhere between “It is sure to turn up somewhere” and “You should consider buying everything new”? Have you ever been ghosted by a suitcase that contained essential materials? If so, this message might interest you.

Today I will talk about lost luggage.

An estimated 33 million bags were mishandled at airports in 2024. Although this happens to only a small percentage of travelers, no matter how infrequent, the thought of losing important belongings is a universal worry.

Recently, while traveling for a weekend assignment, I realized my carry-on bag wouldn’t fit in the overhead space. I needed that bag. It contained important, essential material. Almost before I had a chance to react, an attendant took my bag, wrapped a tag around its handle, handed me a luggage claim ticket, and whisked my precious possession away.

Throughout that flight, I had an anxious feeling. I hoped someone was taking care of the bag and its contents. I hoped it would not be forgotten, neglected, or lost. I clutched my claim ticket, hoping for a successful reunion.

My story had a happy ending; my bag and I were reunited. But the experience got me thinking.

You may have heard a report from Osaka, Japan, about the Kansai International Airport’s world record—something almost unbelievable. After 30 years of operation and processing hundreds of millions of pieces of cargo, carry-ons, and cases, this airport has not lost one item of luggage.

Not one single piece!

How is such a thing possible?

Tsuyoshi Habuta, the airport chief of baggage operations, believes losing luggage should never happen “because luggage is precious to passengers.” That attitude permeates through his entire staff. The airport’s success, he says, is all part of a commitment to “thoroughness and an attention to detail.”

The Japanese people have developed a reputation for such attention to detail. They have a principle, kaizen, that encapsulates a mindset of constantly searching for and implementing minor improvements. This practice requires a quiet discipline of always looking for small ways to make processes better. They take pride in the fact that these improvements almost always come from those doing the everyday work.

Over the years, the staff at Kansai Airport has developed a process that makes the goal of not losing passengers’ bags a reality. They train employees rigorously and constantly ensure that every bag is counted, tracked, and cared for. They make meticulous and multiple manual checks that complement a sophisticated automated system.

Fragile items such as musical instruments are often hand-delivered to passengers. Staff members do small things such as placing bags on conveyor belts with handles facing outward for easier retrieval by passengers.

When you hand off your luggage at Kansai Airport, you get a sense that they are saying to you, “We have your precious belongings. We are responsible for them now. We will return them to you.”

Our Heavenly Father’s Love

As I reflect on these experiences, I find myself contemplating a moment of trust far more sacred than checking a bag.

In a reverent way, I wonder what it is like for a loving Heavenly Father to send His most precious belongings, His children, away from their heavenly home, knowing they must pass through the challenges of mortality. I suppose His great comfort is knowing that they do not travel alone. Parents, family, leaders, friends, ministering brothers and sisters, you and I serve as stewards of His most precious possessions.

How beloved and precious His children are to Him.

And how beloved and blessed are those who care for and nurture others.

And yet, the feeling is recognizable: entrusting what is precious into the care of others—and longing for its safe return. This evokes memories of familiar scenes: a mother—father—at a curb or platform, bidding farewell to their student, soldier, or missionary. Years of teaching, preparation, and prayer culminate in a moment of placing their cherished possession into the care of others—trusting conscientious stewards to care for their son or daughter through the duration of their journey until they are reunited.

In a much holier way, our Heavenly Father also places a claim upon us, not as a label on a handle but as a divine truth written on the heart: “You are mine. I know you. You are not alone. I have not forgotten you. I intend to bring you home.”

This is more than logistics.

This is redemption.