When EMT Training Meets Everyday Grace

Before she ever loaded a stretcher or cleared a scene, BYU student and volunteer EMT Anna Lemke learned something that changed how she sees God. In EMT school you’re trained to run toward chaos with calm, skill, and a plan. As Anna served, those habits started echoing the gospel: we have a Savior who runs toward us. She calls Him the ultimate First Responder—the One who arrives on our worst days, applies heaven’s medicine, and remains steady until we can breathe again. On Unlocking Divinity, Anna tells host Emma Gwilliam how the Savior has “stopped the bleeding” in her own life through His Atonement, carried her when she stumbled, and surrounded her with a “crew” of helpers—family, friends, strangers, and the Holy Ghost—who show up right on time. These parallels aren’t just poetic; they’re practical. Seeing Christ through an EMT lens reshaped how she prays, how she listens for the Spirit, and how she serves. It’s the gospel in reflective gear, hands-on and heart-first.

Spiritual CPR: Church, Prayer, and Scripture that Keep Us Breathing

Ask any responder and they’ll tell you: circulation and breath are non-negotiables. Anna reframed her discipleship the same way. She uses the anaology that CPR with Jesus means Church, Prayer, and Reading scriptures—simple rhythms that keep spiritual life oxygenated. Not every prayer is fireworks; not every chapter read is a revelation. But like daily oxygen, those small, steady choices build a reservoir the Spirit can draw from at the exact moment we need it. For Anna, that reservoir quiets anxious spirals before midterms and steadies her hands when life gets messy. Over time, spiritual CPR strengthens the reflex to reach for God first, not last. It also transforms how she treats herself. She noticed her harsh inner monologue was choking out the Spirit’s calm. So she practiced kinder, truer thoughts and watched space open for guidance. The Savior isn’t only resuscitating us from big collapses; He sustains us breath by breath, teaching us to keep a regular heartbeat of worship.

Triage for the Soul: “If You Can Hear My Voice, Walk Toward Me”

EMT triage in a disaster starts with a clear call: “If you can hear my voice, walk toward me.” Get the walking wounded to safety so responders can reach the most critical. During a lonely stretch of college, those words surfaced in Anna’s mind—but this time from the Spirit. It sounded exactly like something God would say: If you can hear Me, even faintly, come. The moment reframed her doubts. Maybe God hadn’t moved; maybe she just needed to orient toward His voice again. That simple, merciful invitation feels like the Savior’s style—direct, compassionate, and doable. Anna began practicing micro-movements toward Him: a whispered prayer between classes, lunch on a patch of grass without her phone, a scripture verse on a sticky note. Step by step, the static thinned and the signal strengthened. If discipleship sometimes feels like a mass-casualty scene of deadlines, worries, and expectations, triage your soul with this: can you hear Him? Then take the next faithful step in His direction.

Remembering What We Already Chose

There’s a quiet strength in remembering that we already chose God in the premortal life. For Anna, that truth doesn’t minimize present pain, but it restores agency and hope: I’ve done this before. I can choose Him again. Her family kept a small sign in the kitchen—“We’re all just walking each other home”—and it became a compass. Home means safety, love, and belonging; our Heavenly Parents and the Savior are committed to getting us there. When Anna focuses on helping others take even one step closer to home, she discovers she’s moving too. Service becomes a shortcut to feeling God’s love because we catch it reflecting off of others. Remembering also looks like gratitude in motion—naming the gift and the Giver. Mosiah 4:11 taught her to retain a memory of God’s goodness, and that practice turns fear into courage. The path is still steep, but remembering makes it familiar: we know where we’re going, and Who is walking beside us.

When the Room Is Dark, He Is Near

Not all rescues look cinematic. Some happen in the quiet, in a dark room before finals week, when exhaustion and self-doubt press in. After rereading Sister Runia’s conference talk, Anna prayed and imagined what the Savior would pray for her. In that stillness, she felt Him—present, specific, and impossibly close. It wasn’t a quick fix, but it was the kind of saving that lasts: assurance, belonging, and courage to keep going. The Master Healer tends more than broken bones; He mends anxious minds and heavy hearts. Discipleship, Anna says, is choosing Him again and again because life without Him is simply harder. We remember, we breathe, we walk toward His voice—together. And as we do, He sends a crew, steadies our steps, and leads us home. If you’re ready for a practical way back: try spiritual CPR this week. Show up at church, whisper a simple prayer, and read a few verses. The breath will return. The pulse will steady. He’s already on scene.