The view — especially given the dark hues cast by low-hanging thunderstorm clouds — certainly seemed worth braving a few rain drops.

But the storm clouds should have been a presage to the danger. The vista, of course, was best when viewed from the edge of the deep southern Utah canyon. But the wide-open edge is the last place a life-loving human should be during a lightning storm.

The presage, if even noticed, went unheeded. And the couple scampered from their van to the edge for a quick look. Just as they set foot on the lookout point, even before they had a chance to see the sight, a near-blinding light flashed and a thunderous crash boomed in their faces. While realizing — somewhat astonishingly — that they were, in fact, still alive, their minds raced to catch up with what had actually happened. The blast, while not life-threatening, was nonetheless quite literal. It was a force to be reckoned with.

And it had gotten their attention.

Taking time only for an instinctive glance at each other, they turned and ran to the safety of their van. For the rest of that day, they took in the scenic views from inside the van.

Their experience was not unlike, but not as scary as, that of a father and son, hiking the high — and alluring — peaks of the Rockies.

Once atop the peak, the climber not only has bragging rights, but is rewarded by a view that seems to extend forever. The allure of that far-reaching vista, however, can paradoxically sometimes cause short-sightedness. In the rush to see the view, this duo failed to take note of the approaching storm.

When it finally became apparent that the storm's furor deserved more attention than the view, the father looked around and, standing on a rocky plateau, realized that, even if they were to lie down, he and his son would still be the tallest things there. Tallest is not good when lightning threatens.

The lightning had gotten their attention.

Unlike the couple who could quickly run to safety, this duo felt in peril. The father thought. Then he prayed.

"Then the thought came into my mind. 'Use your priesthood authority.' I prayed and the prayer was answered."

The father and son safely hiked down the mountain.

Sometimes it takes an external force to get our attention — to turn us from what we're doing to what we ought to be doing. Had these people been paying more attention to their physical surroundings, they would likely have not been so close to danger.

But certainly, they are not the only mortals to have been shortsighted.

Consider the wicked Nephites.

Some 25 years before the birth of Christ, the Nephites had succumbed to the wicked enticings of the world. Because they had all but forgotten God, "contentions did increase, insomuch that there were wars throughout all the land among the people of Nephi." (Helaman 11:1.)

Knowing that their preoccupation with war would lead to the Nephites' destruction, Nephi, son of Helaman, petitioned the Lord to "let there be a famine in the land, to stir them up in remembrance of the Lord their God. . . . " (Helaman 11:4.)

The Lord did; and the Nephites repented.

For the Nephites, the famine was brought about specifically to get their attention. It worked, turning their hearts to God and their fellowman. And they sought spiritual safety.

For the father and his son and the couple, the lightning was simply a natural occurrence. But it, too, got their attention — and they sought physical safety.

The Lord, in His infinite mercy, has a well-established record of patience and long suffering in helping His children follow His ways. Unfortunately, that long suffering too often requires an attention-getting wake-up call that shows us — with humbling clarity — just how far we've strayed.

While we can be eternally thankful for the Lord's patience and be confident that the Lord will bless us as we correct our paths, a loftier goal is to strive to no longer need course-correcting thunder, lightning or famine.