In the hushed ambiance of Bishop Hahn's office, Greta and I took our seats across from him. The room, usually a place of routine meetings and spiritual guidance, felt different this time, charged with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. The walls, lined with books and religious texts, seemed to stand as silent witnesses to the solemnity of the moment.

Bishop Hahn's eyes, kind and discerning, met ours with a depth that spoke of the gravity of our meeting. "Brother Noah, Sister Greta," he began, his tone measured and infused with a sense of purpose, "I appreciate your dedication to the church and your unwavering faith." His words, though reassuring, carried an undercurrent of something significant about to unfold.

He paused momentarily, his gaze shifting to a letter on his desk. The action, simple yet deliberate, drew our attention immediately. Bishop Hahn retrieved the letter, handling it with a reverence that suggested its importance. The weight of its contents was palpable, even from across the desk.

As he unfolded the letter, Greta's hand found mine under the table. Our fingers intertwined, a silent expression of our shared curiosity and the unspoken bond we had forged over years of facing life's challenges together. The physical connection provided a comforting sense of solidarity, amplifying our anticipation of the message contained within the letter.

Bishop Hahn cleared his throat softly before continuing, "I have received a letter from the Area President that goes beyond the ordinary path of our worship." His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. The mention of the Area President indicated the significance of the correspondence, hinting at a message that could potentially alter the course of our service within the church.

I felt a surge of curiosity, mingled with a sense of responsibility as I awaited the Bishop's next words. The usual calmness of the Bishop's office was replaced by a heightened sense of awareness, every detail - from the soft ticking of the clock on the wall to the Bishop's measured breathing - seeming to underscore the importance of this moment. My heart beat with a quiet anticipation, ready to receive whatever charge or direction the letter might reveal.

As I accepted the letter from Bishop Hahn, a sense of solemnity enveloped me. The paper felt heavy in my hands, a tangible symbol of the weighty message it carried. I unfolded it carefully, aware that what I was about to read aloud might herald a significant change in our lives.

"To Bishop Greg Hahn," I began, my voice soft yet clear, each word spoken with the reverence it deserved. "I extend my warm greetings to you and the members of the Playford Ward.” The formal tone of the greeting set a serious backdrop for what was to come. I paused, glancing up at Bishop Hahn, seeking confirmation to proceed. His discernible nod was all I needed to continue.

"In light of recent revelations and promptings received by the First Presidency, we are compelled to initiate a significant and sacred gathering of devout members in our area." My heart started to beat a little faster, sensing the gravity of what was unfolding. "Through prayerful consideration and seeking the guidance of the Spirit, we have received guided revelation that there are members within the Playford Ward that demonstrate unwavering faith in their Saviour, Jesus Christ, and complete commitment to the church.”

As I read these words, a sense of awe washed over me. The notion of being part of something divinely orchestrated was both humbling and exhilarating.

"I am entrusting you with the responsibility of selecting the most dedicated and faithful members within your ward to convene at the Adelaide Temple for a special meeting, on Sunday 31st July 2018." Greta’s gasp, soft yet filled with surprise, punctuated the room. “That’s tonight,” she whispered, her voice a mixture of shock and curiosity.

Giving Greta a brief, reassuring look, I continued reading, the letter's words weaving a tapestry of mystery and anticipation. "The purpose of this gathering is not disclosed at this time, but rest assured, it carries great importance in the ongoing work of the Lord."

The message was clear yet enigmatic, cloaked in a veil of secrecy that added to the gravity of the situation. "We encourage you to approach this task with the same diligence and devotion that has marked your service as a bishop. The Lord knows His chosen servants, and we have faith that you will prayerfully discern those who should be part of this sacred assembly."

I could feel the suspense in the room thickening, the unspoken question hanging in the air. Who would be chosen for this sacred assembly? The responsibility laid upon Bishop Hahn was immense, and the impact of this decision would ripple through our community.

"I emphasise the confidentiality of this matter," I continued, the words resonating with the seriousness of the task at hand. "We request that you disclose only to those whom you select for this gathering, and even then, encourage them to share this information with no one else."

The letter concluded with words of gratitude and trust, leaving us with a sense of profound responsibility and anticipation. "May the Spirit be your guide in this sacred task, and may the chosen members be prepared both spiritually and temporally for the significant work that lies ahead. Your devoted service is appreciated, Bishop Hahn. We look forward to the blessings that will unfold as a result of this divine calling."

As I finished reading, the room was enveloped in a reflective silence. The magnitude of the message was not lost on any of us. The air was charged with a mix of excitement and solemnity, a feeling of standing on the threshold of something momentous, a divine calling that would shape our journey in ways we couldn't yet fathom.

"Brother Noah, Sister Greta,” Bishop Hahn started, his voice breaking the prolonged silence that had enveloped the room, "you are both among the most devout members of our ward. Your commitment to the principles of our faith has not gone unnoticed." His words, spoken with a solemn gravity, echoed in the stillness of his office. The Bishop's discerning gaze met ours, conveying a deep respect and trust in our devotion.

Greta's grip on my hand tightened, a silent affirmation of our shared sense of duty and devotion. Her touch was a reassuring presence, a tangible reminder of the strength we drew from each other. I felt a surge of humility and pride, a swirling mix of emotions at being recognised for our dedication to our faith.

"This is not a responsibility to be taken lightly," Bishop Hahn continued, his voice steady and earnest. "The Lord's work is vast, and He calls upon His chosen servants to fulfil His purposes. I trust that you will approach this with the same dedication that has marked your journey thus far.” His words were an affirmation of the path we had walked together in faith, a path marked by devotion and service.

“Thank you, Bishop,” I managed to say, my voice betraying a quiver of emotion. The weight of the invitation, the gravity of being chosen for such a sacred gathering, was not lost on me. It was a profound honour, yet with it came a deep sense of responsibility.

“I know I have left you little time, but pray on it, seek the guidance of the Holy Spirit, and tonight, we will gather at the Temple as a chosen group," Bishop Hahn concluded. His words were both an instruction and a blessing, a charge to prepare ourselves spiritually for the significant event ahead. He reached out to take the letter from my trembling hands, his touch gentle yet firm, a symbol of the transfer of this sacred duty.

As the meeting drew to a close, Bishop Hahn extended his hand in a gesture of support and solidarity. "May the Lord bless and guide you, Brother Noah, Sister Greta, as you embark on this journey of faith.” His handshake was warm and affirming, a physical manifestation of the spiritual bond we shared.

Exiting the Bishop's office, the weight of our conversation settled upon me like a cloak. The reality of the sacred request began to deeply resonate—the Adelaide Temple, a sanctuary of countless prayers and sacred moments, now beckoned us as a site of mystery and divine calling. Its spires, which I had seen so many times reaching towards the heavens, now seemed to hold a new significance, a beacon guiding us towards an unknown yet spiritually significant experience.

Our ordinary Sunday, typically marked by familiar rituals and comfortable routines, had indeed transformed into something extraordinary. It felt as if we were stepping into a journey, not just in the physical sense of traveling to the Temple, but also a spiritual journey into the unknown. This journey was guided by a faith that transcended the usual confines of the familiar, pushing us into a realm of greater purpose and deeper commitment.

As Greta and I walked together, a sense of awe and contemplation enveloped us. The air around us, once filled with the typical Sunday chatter and laughter of our congregation, now seemed to carry a hushed reverence. Our steps, synchronised and purposeful, took us through the church grounds, each one echoing with the gravity of our new calling.

Looking at the faces of our fellow church members, I felt a bittersweet pang. These were the people with whom we had shared so many Sundays, joys, and sorrows. Yet, in this moment, we were carrying a secret, a sacred duty that set us apart. It was a responsibility we were honoured to bear, yet it also felt lonely, knowing we couldn't share it with those who had been our spiritual companions for so long.

The Adelaide Temple, a place I had always associated with peace and spiritual solace, now seemed to hold a different allure. It was as if the Temple itself was calling us to step into a larger plan, one that was orchestrated by divine hands. The familiar path to the Temple, once tread for routine visits, now awaited our steps for a purpose that was shrouded in mystery.

Greta squeezed my hand, a silent expression of her shared feelings. There was excitement in this call to higher service, but also a solemnity, a recognition of the gravity of what lay ahead. We were stepping into the unknown, but we were doing it together, and with a faith that had always been our guiding light. This was a journey not just of physical distance, but of spiritual depth, and as we left the church grounds, I felt a profound readiness to embrace whatever lay ahead.