A Relief Society president in my ward once made a comment while teaching a lesson that I have been thinking about ever since. She said that about a year prior to that day, she had told her bishop that she did not have a testimony; that she did not know whether the Church was true or not. She was rather distraught at the prospect. Here she was, actively attending her meetings each week, reading the Book of Mormon, and she wasn’t sure if it meant something or not. However, she went on to say that after expressing her concerns over this to her bishop, she began to look at things differently. She began to ask herself why she enjoyed church related activities, and in particular, General Conference.

General Conference is an eight-hour ordeal, presented much like educational forums. Unless you are lucky enough to attend in person, you sit and stare at a screen while one person after another stands at the pulpit and discusses all things relating to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

As a child, this is arduous. Conference Bingo was the only means of survival for me…as long as the M&Ms were in generous supply. After that, all heck broke loose. Even now, post-graduation, I can barely sit still for an hour before my legs begin to contemplate the Hokey Pokey against my will.

And yet, there is something special about General Conference. At least once during Conference, I find myself utterly amazed when the benediction is announced. I sometimes feel like I lose track of my surroundings completely. Yes, there is something to it—something that no educational forum can synthesize. It’s the something that keeps my Hokey-Pokey-ing legs in a trance. It is the presence of a prophet of God. That’s really something.

And that is how this Relief Society president realized she believed the Church was true—when she realized that there is more to those eight hours than merely stimulating thoughts regarding religion. There really is.