Gospel Story Finder

This missionary ticks all the usual boxes—he wears a white shirt and tie, has his scriptures at the ready, and possesses a natural faith in God. But something else makes Elder Gavin Chambers stand out from the crowd.
Chambers is a 206 centimetre (6-foot 9-inch) all-American volleyball player! From Corona, California, he’s traded in his volleyball togs for the threads of a full time missionary.
Elder Chambers has been serving in the Papatoetoe area of the New Zealand Auckland Mission, where he recently began training a junior missionary companion, Elder Bryce Jacobson “I really look up to Elder Chambers,” says Elder Jacobson, clearly referring to him as a senior companion. But at his height, being looked up to is something Chambers is used to.
He was always tall. “By the time I was 13, I was already 182 cm (six feet). But my real growth spurt didn’t begin until my sophomore year in high school.” He reached his full height by his senior year, and, as with most tall kids, it was assumed he would play basketball. That was not to be.
“I never really liked basketball,” he noted. “The other kids and the coaches always kind of made fun of me, telling me I couldn’t jump.”
His mother urged him, instead, to try a local recreation league volleyball team. “I had never had so much fun in any sport before,” Chambers says. “I was hooked! Even though I wasn’t very good, I went home and told Mom that volleyball was the sport for me!”
Great club coaching helped him find his footing in the game, and because of his prodigious height, they made him a middle blocker. Finally, the burden of being tall began to pay-off. After a season of club volleyball, he was anxious to join his high school team and test his new skills. But disaster struck in his very first scrimmage.
“I jumped and extended myself to try and block a ball, and when I came down, I landed on the foot of the guy on the other side of the net and broke my ankle,” Chambers recounted. “I had to wear a boot everywhere after that and I didn’t get to play at all my freshman season.”
“It was frustrating to have made progress in this new sport I really liked, then lose that whole season.”
But from the ashes of that setback rose the phoenix of an all-star career. Over the next three years, Chambers became a feared opponent on the court, drawing the attention of college volleyball teams throughout the US. He turned down scholarships offered by top schools—Stanford and UCLA among them—in favour of what he truly wanted: to play for the nationally-ranked Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah (USA).
Chambers’ youth career culminated in the summer of 2022, with the victory of his Orange Coast Volleyball Club at the under-18 national club volleyball championship. Chambers was named first-team all-American by the American Volleyball Coaches Association. The kid who couldn’t jump had proven all of those early naysayers wrong.
“After that tournament . . . I took a couple of weeks and kind of basked in the excitement of it all—I wore my gold medal . . . and enjoyed the recognition,” Chambers says. “But then I knew it was time to move on with my life.”
That meant accepting his call to serve as a missionary for the Church. With his newly found fame, one might think it was difficult to walk away from volleyball, but Chambers had already made that decision as a 12-year-old. He wanted to serve the Lord by inviting others to come unto Christ. Going on a mission was the right thing to do.
“Sure, it was hard to stop playing volleyball . . . but I had prayed about this decision, and I felt confident that the plan Heavenly Father had for me was to serve a mission right after high school.”
He says deciding early in his life made it much easier to manage all of the other things that could have acted as roadblocks to missionary service. “You want to make sure that you pray about that decision, too, because you may have ideas about what you want to do with your life, but your plan and the one Heavenly Father has for you may be different.”
Because of a visa issue for New Zealand, Chambers began his missionary service in the West Virginia Charleston Mission. There, he saw people in severe economic distress, but Chambers found them to be humble, just searching for spiritual guidance in their lives.
The gospel of Jesus Christ is the answer.
The situation in New Zealand is a lot different, but people here are also searching for answers to life’s questions. “We’re making friends everywhere we go, talking to people and sharing God’s plan of happiness with them,” he continues. “The work is hard, and we get rejected . . . , but we have tremendous faith that we’ll find people who are looking for a spiritual change in their lives,” he said. “When they’re ready to listen we’re going to be there, to answer their questions and help them learn what to do.”
“As I look back now, I can see how the Lord answered my prayers, and helped me find that perfect time to serve,” Elder Chambers says. “By doing things the Lord’s way, I was able to receive an offer to play at a college that would allow me to serve a mission and live my volleyball dream afterwards.”

Let me share a personal story to illustrate why it is important to clearly see what we are becoming while we are busy with what we are doing. I was a conscientious student in high school. I was determined to earn good grades in hopes of earning a scholarship so I could attend university. In an honors English class, we were given an assignment to write about what it would be like to have a physical disability. We were to simulate the impairment first and then write a reflection paper. My assignment was to be blindfolded for four hours, to go about my normal activities without my eyesight, and then to write about the experience. My English teacher told us that he expected us to be honest in spending the time completing this experience. In a playful but firm way, he said he would see us at judgment day if we were to cheat by not completing the experience as assigned. The assignment was given on a Friday and was due on a Monday. In the activities of the weekend, I forgot about the assignment entirely until Sunday night at 8 PM. I realized I didn’t have enough time left in the day to be blindfolded for four hours and write the reflection paper. I made a choice to write the paper without first completing the experience. I turned it in on Monday as though I had completed the experience as per my teacher’s instructions. I rationalized that I had spent good mental energy imagining the assignment in my mind as I wrote the paper.

Later in the week my English teacher had our graded papers ready to return to us. He paused and expressed his disappointment with those in our class who had written the paper without first completing the experience. He said he could clearly tell those who had attempted to shortcut the learning objectives by only writing the reflection paper. To those students he gave a failing grade. My heart sank as I waited in embarrassment for my paper to be returned to me. As he handed my paper back to me he patted me on the shoulder and quietly said, “Well done.” To my utter surprise I looked down to see an “A” on the top of my paper. My creative writing had worked! I had the grade I was after. I wish I could tell you that I went back to him after class, after school, or at the end of the year to confess my deficiency, but I never did. Why do the details of this insignificant assignment still stand out so clearly in my mind? Perhaps it is the anxiety that one day I will indeed meet my English teacher at judgment day. I know it stands out in my mind because I chose an A over my integrity for an otherwise ordinary assignment. It is similar in spirit to trading away a birthright for a mess of pottage. I was blind in my thinking and I didn’t realize how my small choice diminished my character.

I share with you a pattern that my wife used as we were called to serve in Brazil. She had no experience with Portuguese, other than the use of a few words or phrases. She thought she had accomplished something when she could go to McDonalds and order numero 1/number 1 by holding up one finger. She developed a few patterns of investment. She would read the Book of Mormon in Portuguese. From daily contact and conversation, she would write down new words or vocabulary. When she was going to give a talk in a meeting, rather than use an interpreter, she would write the talk in English, have someone translate the words into Portuguese, and then she would put the phonetics or the sounds above the words. She would then read the talk through her sounds and phonetics. She now understands the language very well and does a good job of speaking. The pattern and work blessed her.

Star tugged at her clothes. It still felt strange to wear a dress to church. In her old church the girls wore pants or shorts on Sunday. But not in her new church. She and her mom had just been baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Star sighed as she looked in the mirror. She was excited to go to church for the first time as an official member, but she was also nervous. Before, she stayed with Mom the whole time at church. But this time she was going to Primary.
Star blinked at her reflection. What if she didn’t fit in? What if the other kids didn’t like her?
“Star? Are you ready?” Mom called.
Star walked downstairs. “Do I look OK?” she asked.
Mom smiled. “You look beautiful.”
Star made a face. “You have to say that. You’re my mom.”
“You’re right. I do have to say that. Because it’s true.”
Star gave a small smile. Mom always had a way of making her feel better. But there were still butterflies in her stomach. What if none of the other kids wanted to talk to her? She had friends at school, but they weren’t members of her new church. She wished she had even one friend going to church with her.
“I just remembered something I have to do,” she told Mom.
She ran back upstairs and knelt by her bed. “Dear Heavenly Father, please help me make friends. I believe what the missionaries taught is true, but I’m scared.”
Star stayed on her knees and listened. After a moment she felt a sweet, peaceful feeling, and she wasn’t so nervous anymore.
At church Star and Mom sat by a family with three little girls. The parents introduced themselves and started talking with Mom before the meeting started. Star helped the girls color a picture of Jesus.
Bishop Andrews made his way toward them. “Sister Cunningham! Star! It’s good to see you today.” He gave them each a warm smile and a handshake. Star had forgotten how nice everyone at church was. Maybe she would make a friend after all.
After sacrament meeting Star went to Primary. She glanced at the other kids nervously as she sat down. They were talking to each other and didn’t seem to notice her. Star’s heart sank. She’d be on her own after all.
Just then a girl Star’s age walked into the room. “She looks nervous too,” Star thought. “I could go talk to her.”
Star took a deep breath, then walked over to the girl. “Hi, my name is Star. I’m new. Would you like to sit by me?” Star held her breath. Would the girl want to be her friend?
The girl’s mouth turned up in a half-smile. “I’m Sarah. I’m new too. My family just moved here from Ontario.”
“My mom and I were baptized two weeks ago,” Star said. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.”
Sarah’s smile grew wider. “We’ll figure it out together.”
Star and Sarah sat with their class. Sometimes Star caught Sarah’s eye and smiled. Sarah smiled back. Star felt calm and happy. She knew that Heavenly Father had answered her prayer and helped her find a friend.
In class the teacher asked Star and Sarah to introduce themselves.
Star stood up. “My name is Star Cunningham. My mom and I were baptized two weeks ago.” She paused, and a smile grew on her face as she looked at her new friend. “And this is my friend Sarah.”

Until I joined the Church, I had never seriously disappointed my family. When I joined, I knew they felt betrayed, and I felt horrible for hurting them so much. I continued in the Church because I knew in my heart that it was what the Lord wanted for me—and for them.
I was not living close to home at the time. Whenever I visited, I was met with accusations and insults. The situation worsened when I decided to serve a mission. My grandmother had tears in her eyes when she said, “Annie girl, if you serve this mission, you will break my heart.” I told her that a mission was something I had been prompted to do, and if I didn’t serve, I would be disobeying Heavenly Father.
While I prepared for my mission I found comfort and strength within my ward family. They did an amazing job of helping me adjust to the lifestyle changes that come with being a Church member, and they gave me support in coping with the opposition of my family. I found it easier to persevere despite the frustrations by immersing myself in the Church through callings, activities, and going on exchanges with the missionaries. Also, I lived close to Palmyra, New York, so I often found myself sitting in the Sacred Grove, pondering my situation and seeking peace.
Although I had support from my ward, I still felt frustrated and misunderstood by my family. Everything they knew about the Church they had learned from outside sources, and they would not accept anything I told them. I tried to discuss the gospel with them and correct their misconceptions, but I never seemed to succeed in reaching common ground. The gap separating me from my loved ones was widening, and I did not know how to narrow it. By the time I left on my mission to Virginia, I had almost lost hope that my family would ever show interest in the Church.
Through my letters home, I continued my efforts to share the gospel. I remember inviting my father to meet with the missionaries. He said frankly that he was not interested. Reading his response was one of the hardest experiences of my mission, but it gave me a greater drive to work hard and share the gospel with anyone willing to listen. I came to realize that everyone is someone’s family member and that by helping one person I might be answering someone else’s prayers. I strive to continue in my efforts in sharing the gospel, even though I am no longer a full-time missionary.
When Elder Henry B. Eyring of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles got up to speak at the April 2005 general conference, I felt a strong impression that I needed to pay close attention to what he was about to say. He started his talk with these words: “My message is to those who are converts to the Church. … You are not the exception in the Church. To you I wish to say how much the Lord loves you and trusts you. And even more, I wish to tell you how much He depends on you.”1
He spoke of how converts should never stop trying to share the gospel with their families. He then explained that another important aspect of missionary work within the family is temple work.
Elder Eyring’s words inspired me to make goals about temple attendance and family history work. I have found much fulfillment in taking family names to the temple and have received some amazing, unexpected blessings in the process. It has greatly increased my connection with those on the other side of the veil. I have seen miracles as I’ve tried to find their names, and I have felt their presence while performing their ordinances.
Another blessing came when I saw my grandmother for the first time after my mission. She gave me a list of names to take to the temple. She also talked about how she wanted to read the “Mormon book” because she remembered her father reading it. She now calls me every week to talk about what she has learned from the Book of Mormon.
Prior to leaving on my mission, I had felt an impression that my grandmother’s husband—who died in 1996, before I joined the Church—was striving to help soften her heart. While I was in the Missionary Training Center, the elders in my district did his temple work. Sitting in the celestial room, I was overwhelmed with the idea of my entire family being there together. I like to think that my grandfather is doing all he can to help our family accept the gospel.
My mom came to pick me up from my mission, and it happened to be October general conference weekend. She watched three of the conference sessions with me and enjoyed them so much that she asked for them on DVD for Christmas. To me, this was a miracle to let me know that I need not lose hope.
At the present time, no one in my family has shown much interest in joining the Church, but I feel it will happen one day—whether in this life or the next. Our relationship has improved so greatly that I know it was not through my own efforts but through the workings of the Spirit. Heavenly Father blesses us with miracles and the righteous desires of our hearts when we are striving to do His will. I have felt His strength and support to move forward, and I know that I will never be alone in His true Church.
Find comfort and strength in your ward or branch family.
Seek peace and direction through prayer.
Share the gospel with others. Remember that everyone has a family, and you may be the answer to someone else’s prayer.
Participate in family history and temple work.
Never give up hope that your family may some day accept the gospel.

“We had a great desire and sense of urgency to go to the temple and there to have our family sealed for all time and eternity. As soon as we were able to go to the Salt Lake Temple following our first year in the Church, we eagerly went. The support of so many people who accompanied us was tremendous. The sealing for all time and eternity was one of the most glorious occasions of our lives.
“The reason for the urgency of going to the temple and being sealed as a family was realized when just two weeks later a tragic automobile accident claimed the life of our eleven-year-old daughter Kristin. As we stagger under the heavy loss and grieve her mortal absence in our lives, and as we examine and study the process of the accident, we know in our hearts that it was the will of Heavenly Father to call her spirit unto Himself. We are strengthened and comforted in the knowledge that her joy is full. We have gratitude in our hearts that the timing of our Heavenly Father was so kind and merciful.
“At a time such as this we can only ask questions and stand amazed as we ponder the answers: What if we had not joined the true church of Jesus Christ and given this gift to Kristin? What if we had delayed the conversion to a more convenient time? What if we had not gone to the temple with a sense of urgency when we did? What if we had not given Kristin the great joy of Primary, Sunday School, sacrament meetings and family home evenings?
“During the week before the accident Kristin had asked her mother if it would be possible for her to go back into the temple. She had loved it so.
“On a lonely Kansas cemetery there stands a gray monument. On it are the four names of our family. At the bottom are engraved these words: ‘This family is sealed for all time and eternity.’ Behind the tears of temporary loss our eyes show the clear and joyous knowledge that our decision was truly the correct decision.”

I have found that when I get on my knees and pray, I am comforted and I feel Heavenly Father’s overwhelming love for me. An experience I had recently with prayer helped me know with a surety that He answers our prayers.
I had been having a very difficult day, and when I got home from school I immediately went to my knees and asked Heavenly Father to help me know that I was loved. Right after I said, “Amen,” my older sister came into my room and told me she loved me. I was overcome with the Spirit, and this experience definitely added to my testimony of prayer. I pray every day—and try to keep a prayer in my heart.
Shannon Watson, age 17,Highland 20th Ward, Highland Utah East Stake

I still remember how anxious I was as I prepared to see my bishop about serving a mission. I wondered if I was good enough. Like the Prophet Joseph Smith, I wasn’t “guilty of any great or malignant sins” (Joseph Smith—History 1:28), but I was nervous just the same.
As I went to see my bishop for my first mission interview, I was grateful I had made good choices. A few months later I was serving the Lord in Guatemala—teaching others the plan of salvation and the vital role moral agency plays in that plan.

Janice was a weak little girl with a bad heart. If she cried hard or got too excited, she couldn’t get her breath and went into a fainting spell.

One time Papa and Mama took Janice to the doctor in Harmony to see if anything could be done for her. The three boys and I were trying to think of a game to play while they were gone.

“Want to play hopscotch?” I asked as I scratched the pattern in the dirt with a stick.

“Naw, that’s a sissy game,” Ed scoffed.

“Besides, it makes you too hot,” Frank said.

“Let’s go over to Grandma’s then,” I suggested, “and see if she still likes her mattress.” Even after all this time I could get excited just thinking about how much I’d enjoyed making it and how pleased she was when we took it over to her.

In our effort to understand how the Spirit leads us to do good, we need to recognize that it sometimes works in mysterious ways. The account of Brenner Hall, an army marksman in World War II, known by his friends as “Dead-eye Dick,” illustrates this point.

Fearing that a German patrol of two soldiers would discover their position, Brenner and his comrades decided to confront and capture them. One German soldier attempted to fire on the Americans and was immediately gunned down. The second turned and ran. The leader of the American unit turned to Brenner, a company sharpshooter, and asked him to shoot the fleeing German. Brenner took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. Much to the surprise of his friends, Brenner repeatedly missed his target.

Another American patrol captured the fleeing German and returned him for questioning. As the GIs approached the house, they shouted out that they had caught Brenner’s friend. Still smarting from the embarrassment of having failed to hit his target, Brenner demanded to know what they meant.

“Well,” they reported, “he must be your friend, because we found him praying on his knees, and you are the only one that we have seen do that.” “He must be your friend,” they teased.

Speaking through an interpreter, the German soldier explained that he had a friend in Arizona. No one was more surprised than Brenner when the German told of his friend, a Mormon elder from Mesa, Arizona, who had baptized his family before the war. Brenner recognized the name of his high school friend and knew that he had served his mission to Germany.

“I know that guy,” Brenner exclaimed.

“Hey,” one of the GIs laughed, “Brenner’s a Mormon, too.”

“Brudder Hall!” the German said with a big smile. Brenner embraced the German solider as a brother in the gospel, thankful that for once he had missed every shot.

Fifty years ago, Kathy and I met an impressive couple who had also been recently married in the house of the Lord. Life was promising. They had children. She was talented and full of faith. His work prospered. They kept their covenants.
Unexpectedly, the young woman developed serious health issues.
Their son recently shared these reflections with me:
“In my younger years, my sweet mom went through crushing periods of severe depression, bringing extended periods of difficulty in taking care of even her own needs. It was a new reality for both of my parents. Life would be different than they had anticipated.
“My dad had never experienced mental illness and sought the help of his Heavenly Father. I can’t count the number of times I walked in on him while on his knees, or the number of Sundays he was quietly fasting again. He served my mother—and served us—with incredible love, patience, and humility. He sought the influence of the Holy Ghost, hoping to love, act, and react as the Savior would.
“My mother was the love of his life. These seasons would be but a small moment. They were bound to one another forever. As they remained faithful, they would spend eternity together in health and happiness. That promise gave him a perfect brightness of hope.
“While many times my mother felt that her challenges created a burden for my dad, he saw it differently. He loved serving this incredible, precious daughter of God.
“As my mom bravely—and miraculously—overcame many of her health struggles, they experienced light and joy together: as a couple and as parents and grandparents.
“Later, in her 60s, she faced an entirely different set of trials, including breast cancer and neurological issues that impacted her ability to walk. Once again, she and my dad doubled down on their commitment to each other and their covenants with the Lord.
“They did it together through the final day of her mortal journey.”
Eternal marriage is an eternal journey.

Some years ago I was called, with my wife, Jacqui, to preside over the Washington Spokane Mission. We arrived in the mission field with a mix of fear and excitement at the responsibility of working with so many remarkable young missionaries. They came from many different backgrounds and quickly became like our own sons and daughters.
Although most were doing wonderfully well, a few were struggling with the high expectations of their calling. I remember one missionary telling me, “President, I just don’t like people.” Several told me they lacked the desire to follow the rather strict missionary rules. I worried and wondered what we could do to change the hearts of those few missionaries who had not yet learned the joy of being obedient.
One day while driving through the beautiful rolling wheat fields on the Washington-Idaho border, I was listening to a recording of the New Testament. As I listened to the familiar account of the rich young man coming to the Savior to ask what he might do to have eternal life, I received an unexpected but profound personal revelation that is now a sacred memory.
After hearing Jesus recite the commandments and the young man reply that he had observed all these since his youth, I listened for the Savior’s gentle correction: “One thing thou lackest: … sell whatsoever thou hast, and … come, … follow me.”1 But to my astonishment, I instead heard six words before that part of the verse that I seemed never to have heard or read before. It was as if they had been added to the scriptures. I marveled at the inspired understanding which then unfolded.
What were these six words that had such a profound effect? Listen to see if you can recognize these seemingly ordinary words, not found in the other Gospel accounts but found only in the Gospel of Mark:
“There came one running … and asked him, Good Master, what shall I do that I may inherit eternal life?
“And Jesus said unto him, …
“Thou knowest the commandments, Do not commit adultery, Do not kill, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Defraud not, Honour thy father and mother.
“And he answered … , Master, all these have I observed from my youth.
“Then Jesus beholding him loved him, and said unto him, One thing thou lackest: go thy way, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come, take up the cross, and follow me.”2
“Then Jesus beholding him loved him.”
As I heard these words, a vivid image filled my mind of our Lord pausing and beholding this young man. Beholding—as in looking deeply and penetratingly into his soul, recognizing his goodness and also his potential, as well as discerning his greatest need.
Then the simple words—Jesus loved him. He felt an overwhelming love and compassion for this good young man, and because of this love and with this love, Jesus asked even more of him. I pictured what it must have felt like for this young man to be enveloped by such love even while being asked to do something so supremely hard as selling all he owned and giving it to the poor.
In that moment, I knew it was not just the hearts of some of our missionaries that needed changing. It was my heart as well. The question no longer was “How does a frustrated mission president get a struggling missionary to behave better?” Instead, the question was “How can I be filled with Christlike love so a missionary can feel the love of God through me and desire to change?” How can I behold him or her in the same way the Lord beheld the rich young man, seeing them for who they really are and who they can become, rather than just for what they are doing or not doing? How can I be more like the Savior?
“Then Jesus beholding him loved him.”
From that time forward, as I sat knee to knee with a young missionary struggling with some aspect of obedience, within my heart I now saw a faithful young man or young woman who had acted on the desire to come on a mission. Then I was able to say with all the feeling like that of a tender parent:3 “Elder or Sister, if I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t care what happens on your mission. But I do love you, and because I love you, I care about who you become. So I invite you to change those things that are hard for you and become who the Lord wants you to be.”
Each time I went to interview missionaries, I first prayed for the gift of charity and that I could see each elder and sister as the Lord sees him or her.
Before zone conferences, as Sister Palmer and I greeted each missionary one by one, I would pause and look deeply into their eyes, beholding them—an interview without words—and then without fail, I was filled with great love for these precious sons and daughters of God.

Somehow I knew that Melissa’s surprise would be chocolate chip cookies. We took them down to Mrs. Palmer’s because she invited us for dinner. She’s our landlady and lives on the main floor, under our apartment. She’s not a member of the Church, even though missionaries have lived in her apartment for many years. She invited Will to come to dinner, too, and we waited and waited, but he never showed up. It was very disappointing, and we felt sorry for Mrs. Palmer because we waited so long that the dinner was cold before we started eating. But Mrs. Palmer felt sorry for us, too, so she let us show her the video that we were going to show to Will. Then the three of us ate all Melissa’s cookies. They were delicious! Please give Melissa a big thank-you hug for me.

I was asleep in my bedroom one May morning when my older brother shook me awake and said, “Get up! They think Dad is dead.”
Those words and that situation are branded vividly into the far corners of my mind even though I was only eight when Dad died. The clear memory of that morning never leaves, and I’m glad it doesn’t. That’s part of the link between life and death.
When I sat on the front porch that spring day, I thought, If I live to be an old man, it’s going to seem like an eternity before I see Dad again. I was feeling sorry for myself, and I believe it was a normal reaction for anyone who loses a family member. As well as feeling very, very sad, I also felt cheated.
The week of Dad’s death and burial was hectic, traumatic, and totally different from anything else I had ever done. Life was a blurred and chaotic state. Existing schedules were thrown to the wind as life suddenly took a direction that seemed almost a reversal from previous paths and routes. Confusion entered my mind like it never had before.
For my family, the memories were far too painful after Dad died, so Mother sold our house and we moved to another city. She felt strongly that our lives would be happier in a different location where we could all look ahead instead of looking back. I think she felt that way because her immediate plan was to remain a widow the rest of her life. For me, the rest of my life was a long, long time to go.
As I thought and prayed about the move away from lifelong friends—a deeply traumatic experience for any young person—the Holy Ghost whispered to me, “Trust her. She is your mother. She will not lie to you or deceive you. Everything that she is doing is for your own good.”
As time passed, I longed for Dad on many occasions. Nevertheless, my life went on with joy, happiness, and pleasure. My grandfather—Dad’s father—spent much time with us, striving to be a father figure. The bishop often took us on father-and-son outings. Home teachers took us fishing and saw to other needs. School teachers showed great interest. Many adults gave of their time and talents so that we could experience those things that normally happen to young people.
Still, I longed for both parents to be in attendance when I was elected student-body vice president, when I scored three touchdowns in the first football game of my senior year, and when I graduated from high school.
None of this is ever meant to imply that Mother did not do a great job. But growing up with only one parent is a tough assignment. One parent can only do so much, and one is never as good as a team of two.
What I learned, though, is that when a parent dies, the world does not stop. There were days when I wished it would slow down so I could sort out the feelings of my heart. However, God will not ask more of us than what we are capable of giving. He will watch over us and protect us as we strive to do what’s right.
The hurt of burying one parent never goes away. The deep longing to be near them will never totally disappear. Dad’s comments to me during my childhood are so vivid that my memory signals that we will never be completely separated. As time goes by now, the storm clouds mostly pass like speeded-up, time-lapse photography. I quickly see that the sky is blue again.
That is the promise we each have, for God said, “Blessed is he that … is faithful in tribulation. … Ye cannot behold with your natural eyes, for the present time, the design of your God concerning those things which shall come hereafter, and the glory which shall follow. … For after much tribulation come the blessings. Wherefore the day cometh that ye shall be crowned with much glory; … Remember this, … that you may lay it to heart, and receive that which is to follow” (D&C 58:2–5).

“Come on, Aaron,” Corey* said. “Just be cool and help me out.” Corey leaned over in a confidential way. “Just call the night manager to take the garbage out to the dock.”
Corey was my friend. He was a couple of years older than me and played on the football team, and I was kind of proud to hang around with a popular guy like him. My mind was racing as I tried to decide what to do. After all, I wasn’t really doing anything wrong. I was just doing my work, and the garbage did need to go out.
Before this, I had been having a good night. I had taken some cardboard back to the baler, and I was surprised to find Corey, who was sticking some plastic in a garbage can. He jumped back, fear in his eyes, and then relaxed.
“Oh, it’s just you,” he had said, laughing.
“Why are you here on your night off?” I asked.
“Hey, just helping a friend with his work,” he joked. But I had already seen the case of beer stashed in the garbage.
He knew that I knew he was stealing from the store.
“See, Aaron,” he said, “these kids pay me 25 bucks for a 12-pack. I’ll give you part of the money for helping me,” he had said. Finally, though, I decided that I couldn’t go along with this. It wasn’t worth the friendship.
“No,” I finally said, “you’re on your own. I don’t want to be involved. Call the night manager yourself.”
As I collected the carts from the front, I started feeling guilty, but I kept on telling myself it was no big deal, that it wasn’t really my problem. I went home that night, not feeling very peaceful or good about myself. I just tried to forget the whole thing.
I was still trying to bury my guilt in school, when a girl I barely knew came up to me.
“Hey, you and Corey have quite a system out there at the store,” she said. “Thanks for helping us party.”
“What?” I said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I responded.
“Sure,” she said, walking away smiling. At first I was angry that there were obviously people who thought I was stealing beer. I started thinking about it, though, and realized she was right. I was helping Corey steal because I knew about it and wasn’t doing anything to stop it.
As scared as I felt, I decided I would tell my manager what had been going on. The next day I found out that Corey had been fired after finally admitting to stealing. I also found out that he knew I had told on him. I thought for a while he would beat me up, but since we went to different high schools, I never saw him—until a few years later.
I was sitting in an ice cream store with some friends. A guy came through the door, and it was unmistakably Corey. I tried to sink in my chair, but he was looking right at me. He walked over with his friends.
“Hey, guys, this is Aaron,” he said, introducing me.
“Hi, what’s up?” I said.
“You notice anything different?” he asked. “I went through the temple today,” he said. “I’m going on a mission to England. Give me your address.”
I about fell off my chair. I never thought he would want to go on a mission. He got my address, shook my hand, and walked off. I went to his farewell. Later, he wrote me a letter, telling me how mad he had been at first about getting fired, but how it helped him see where he was headed, and that he was glad he repented.
As it turned out “telling” was the best thing I ever did for Corey. It was something a true friend would do.

When families join the Church, they receive great blessings. But when the Ning family was converted, the Church gained two future full-time native missionaries. Said Elder Ning Kong-lung, “If people first come to a knowledge of God, seek after his kingdom, develop faith in him, and obey his commandments, their lives will change. The Church gives us a method to obtain eternal life. When our family first joined the Church, it was tough. My brother and I were small. My mother had heart disease. I believe it was the most troubled period in my life. I know our family situation changed because my dad led us in obedience to the commandments.”
His mother has since passed away, and his father, who owns and manages a small noodle factory, is now a counselor in the district presidency.
“A change is taking place,” says Elder Ning. “Many of the young members have great enthusiasm to do missionary work. Before now most of the youth didn’t think about serving as missionaries—they thought it wasn’t their concern. As each branch has more missionaries called, the members within the branch are influenced.”

To illustrate the importance of making good choices in life, I will use a personal experience. When I was a younger man, not much older than you are now, I enjoyed hiking and backpacking into remote areas. I have always found the beauty and grandeur of nature inspiring and renewing. A number of years ago, two of my friends, Larry and Dave, and I decided to hike the Thunder River Trail off the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. This is not an easy hike and it requires very careful planning.

The trail starts at Monument Point, at an elevation of 7200 ft., while the elevation of the Colorado River at its confluence with Thunder River is only 2000 ft. That is a one mile vertical change in elevation over a horizontal distance of only four miles. The hike requires three significant vertical drops, each about 1200 ft., before reaching the Colorado River. Food and water must be carried and cached on the way down, so that you can safely make the hike back out (there is no water above Thunder River).

Our journey began at 4:00 in the morning so that we could reach Monument Point at dawn, just before making the first descent to a flat expanse of slickrock called The Esplanade. My pack was exceedingly heavy with necessary supplies, which made climbing down the steep canyon wall difficult and hazardous. But the panoramic views of the Grand Canyon were spectacular. The next major descent was from the edge of The Esplanade down into Surprise Valley. By the time we had crossed Surprise Valley and were nearing the last major descent, it was late afternoon. It was very hot and there was no shade or breeze to provide relief from the afternoon sun.

At this point in our journey, I noticed that my friend Dave was having problems. A quick evaluation revealed that he was dehydrated and overheated, becoming disoriented and irrational, and in serious trouble. Larry and I knew that we needed to get Dave cooled down and that we needed to do it soon. We knew that we were near the edge of the last steep descent to the Colorado River and that the source of Thunder River was not far away. So, putting Dave between us, Larry and I urged and assisted him along, over the edge of Surprise Valley and down to Thunder River.

The cold water of the river cooled the surrounding air significantly and the trees growing along its banks provided much needed shade. We decided to make our camp here, rather than continuing on to the main campground further down the canyon. We spent most of the next two days near the Thunder River and Dave was able to recuperate before we made the hike back out.

In talking to Dave, I learned that he had gotten into physical trouble because of some choices he had made, both in his preparation and during the hike. The basic problem was two-fold: he wasn't drinking enough fluids and the fluid he was drinking did not contain the necessary salts and electrolytes needed to replace those being lost through perspiration. Although we had all been instructed and warned on this issue ahead of time, he had not followed those instructions, thinking instead that he could get by doing it his own way; a decision that resulted in very serious consequences.

The missionaries taught me for over a year. I attended church and continued to interact with the members. We played games together and talked about many things. I was encouraged to follow the Savior and be baptized, but I was worried.
My parents were devoted Buddhists and did not approve of my learning about the Church. Wanting to meet my family’s expectations, I told the missionaries that I couldn’t be baptized. But the truths of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ had been prompting me to go down a different path from the one most people around me pursued. I had to decide for myself which path to take.
The more I thought about it, the more I felt that I should pray. I knelt by my bed and prayed out loud for the first time in my life. Before I even finished, the Holy Ghost had made it clear to me that I had found the truth. But what would my parents think?
When my parents realized my desire to be baptized, they surprised me by agreeing to have the missionaries come for a visit. When they arrived at our home, my parents had a good feeling. After talking for a while, the missionaries invited us to sing a hymn, “Love at Home” (Hymns, no. 294). As we sang together, my mother had tears in her eyes. Everyone was touched.
This experience softened my parents’ hearts, and a year and eight months after I first met the missionaries, I was baptized. I later served a mission in Utah and have had many wonderful opportunities in the Church.
Have you ever stopped and thought about how the gospel of Jesus Christ has blessed your life? In doing so, you will be filled with love for God and come to better understand that He loves you so much that He sent His Only Begotten and precious Son, Jesus Christ, to the world to strengthen and uplift you as you come unto Him.
When you feel this love, I hope that you will respond by opening your heart to your loved ones and others and sharing what you know to be true. My life has been blessed because of friends who reached out to me and shared their love of the Savior and His gospel with me. I’ve also been blessed as I’ve continued to strengthen my testimony through prayer, studying the life and teachings of Jesus Christ, and choosing to be His disciple. You can do the same!
As you strive to remember the promises you made when you were baptized and received the gift of the Holy Ghost, God has promised you that the Holy Ghost will “show unto you all things what ye should do” (2 Nephi 32:5). Please have faith in His promise. You can be guided in the right direction in all you do and say. You can reach out in friendship and invite others to hear your testimony. I know that this can make you happier than just about anything else ever could.

It is so easy to drift inadvertently into something less than this kind of attitude. I recall a manuscript on Reasons for Observing the Word of Wisdom, produced by one of our BYU professors. He wanted us to print it. So we took the manuscript to one of the Brethren, President Spencer Kimball, who pronounced it one of the finest treatments of the subject that he had ever read. Convincing economic, health, and other reasons for following the Word of Wisdom were clearly set forth. “But,” he said, “you left out the most important reason.”

“What is that?” the author asked.

“Because God asked us to,” he replied.

Now, I wondered why I hadn’t thought of this reason. I had to confess that, as a professor, I just wasn’t in the habit of using this approach. It seemed like a reason you talked about only in church. Was it because the approach was too sacred or was I afraid the learned would not understand? I began to feel like the salt that had lost its savor. I read the eighty-ninth section of the Doctrine and Covenants over again. Sure enough, it said, “the word of wisdom, showing forth the order and will of God.” And here and there God said, “I warn you,” or “it is pleasing unto me if you don’t do this,” or “I ordain this grain for you,” and finally, “I give unto you the promise that the destroying angel shall pass by you.” Then I began to see it as wise counsel from the heart of a loving God, the God of all health and happiness.

One sister was confused when her bishop unexpectedly asked her to consider serving a mission. At age 24, she had graduated from college and had been offered a graduate scholarship at another university. She was beyond the age when sisters usually serve a full-time mission and was hoping to continue her education.

But as she considered her options, a feeling grew within her that the Lord wanted her to serve. She decided to add to the counsel of her bishop that of her stake president. Her interview with him removed any lingering doubts. Others might have received a different answer, but this, she felt, was hers. She expressed a desire to serve a full-time mission.

“At that moment,” she recalls, “I was nearly overwhelmed with the impression that, if I died at that moment, I could face my Savior sure of his approval. I was doing what he wanted me to do. I’ve never forgotten the peace and assurance that came from him like a benediction.”