Gospel Story Finder

President Daniel Allotey, stake president of the Ghana Kasoa Stake, knows that it is indeed his religious responsibility to consider how to strengthen and support the young single adults in his stake. President Allotey and his counselors prayerfully began to study President Nelson’s direction and counsel. The stake presidency received answers to their prayers and knew that their focus needed to be on YSA gathering places. This meant asking members to make sacrifices to serve with the YSA.
President Allotey shared, “Having the desire to be perfectly aligned with the prophet brings light and revelations to the mind and heart and rekindles the energy and ability to do what may seem impossible. Upon the authorization of gathering places by the Brethren, and prayerfully seeking to understand the vision, I felt the calm assurance within my heart, and I knew for certain this is the Lord’s answer and perfect solution to the YSA dilemma my stake has been trying to solve for many years. To organize the gathering place with no supporting budget became the real test of our faith. We knew that if we would take that faithful step, the Lord would make a way for us” (see 1 Nephi 3:7).
A YSA council was created. Brother and Sister Dwamena-Frimpong and Brother William and Sister Karen Aryee were called to serve as YSA supporting couples and gathering place specialists, respectively. “When this calling was extended to us, we had no idea of what to do and how to get things done,” said Sister Aryee. “As it is our human nature to come up with plans, thoughts, and goals for the future, we needed to realize God is the only one who truly knows what’s best for us. That was how we sought direction from the Lord for us to come up with activities that will unite, educate, and bring souls unto Christ. The Lord, indeed, answers prayers as we received guidance steadily on what to do and how to get all our YSA’s involved.”
The Aryees met with the stake presidency and began to petition the Lord to lead them and give them direction. President Ghunney, second counselor in the stake presidency, said, “Under the direction of the stake president, we met to discuss and plan on how to implement the gathering place. Through these council meetings, I have seen the heavens open, and revelations poured out to our understanding, and the more we met in council, the more the Lord made clear to us what we needed to do.”
The newly called leaders knew that within their stake there would be experts in various fields that could teach the needed classes. Visits were made to wards and branches seeking teachers for bead making classes, fashion, IT proficiency, eCommerce and web design, wood engineering, computer animation, web design, cosmetology, driving, detergents making and culinary arts. President Allotey said, “When I called each teacher, I told them to be prepared to make some sacrifices to help the YSA in our stake.” In West Africa, transportation costs and the premium placed on long work hours are high.
A gathering place devotional was held. Members of the Church, neighbors and friends were invited to register for skills training and BYU-Pathway classes.
There was a lot to learn. At times, leaders were not feeling the success and seeing the number of YSA for which they had hoped and prayed. They prayed continually. They felt certain that sacrifice was the key to success. When there were not enough computers for the web design class, students shared computers. When internet was not available, instructors spent time during the week creating tutorial videos that students could watch when internet was available.
Sister Mercy Dady, beads instructor, declared, “When our class started, getting beads was not easy for YSAs due to financial challenges.” Sister Dady purchased all the beads required for the first two weeks and provided the class with all essential tools and materials. This initial sacrifice gave the class a successful start. Some of the YSA were able to contribute small amounts of money to purchase the beads required for subsequent classes.
Sister Atistosgbui shared her thoughts on being an instructor. “Volunteering as an instructor over the past few weeks has been challenging, yet an eye-opening, learning opportunity for my students and me. My desire to see the YSA succeed motivated me to sacrifice my resources to transporting mannequins, pressing iron, and sewing machines among other things from my workshop to the gathering place and back twice every week. Although the cost of transporting the equipment to class was high, I knew the Lord always blesses the cheerful giver”, she said.
Brother Collins Sarkodie Aning said, “I thank my Heavenly Father for the opportunity to volunteer as the e-commerce and web design instructor. Personally, I will say that what has kept my class going since the gathering place launch is the love that I have for the YSA and my quest to help them acquire a skill to support themselves and their families.” Twice each week Brother Sarkodie dedicated an entire day to his classes and transported himself from his home or workplace to meet and teach the YSA.
At the completion of twelve weeks of classes and at the end of a BYU-Pathway semester, a graduation ceremony was held at the stake center. Students displayed projects and shared newly acquired skills and talents. Traditional dancing, music, and the awarding of certificates to 106 students ended the semester on a high note.
President Allotey testified, “The gathering place has transformed every participant’s life. Nonmembers also have been blessed, several being willing to meet with full-time missionaries to be taught the gospel of Jesus Christ.
“The happenings in the YSA gathering place are amazing! It has been many years since we last saw YSA trooping into our stake center and gathering together almost every day of the week. As I keep meeting and interacting with returning inactive YSA and even nonmember YSA who have come from the neighborhood to the gathering place, my heart swells with joy as I see the real fulfillment of the prophecy of the gathering of Israel on this side of the veil and the eventual salvation of the rising generation. I know that the YSA gathering place principle is revealed by God through our prophet to save this rising generation.”

I remember loading up our children in a station wagon and driving to Los Angeles. There were at least nine of us in the car, and we would invariably get lost. Instead of getting angry, we laughed. Every time we made a wrong turn, we laughed harder.
Getting lost was not an unusual occurrence for us. Once while heading south to Cedar City, Utah, we took a wrong turn and didn’t realize it until two hours later when we saw the “Welcome to Nevada” signs. We didn’t get angry. We laughed, and as a result, anger and resentment rarely resulted. Our laughter created cherished memories for us.

An acquaintance of mine became seriously ill not long ago. I hurried up to the Veterans Hospital in Salt Lake City to see if I could attend to some of his needs. He’s got some problems. He’s not the most active member in the world. I’m sure you are familiar with such a member who may live near you.
He was surprised when I walked into the room. “Well, how did you know I was here?”
“Oh, the Lord has ways of sharing this kind of information.”
He had a blood condition that had caused his body great distress. It was very serious because of his age. He had tremendous pain in his ankles. He was eating dinner at the time I entered the hospital, so I sat on the edge of his bed and said, “Would it help if I massaged your legs for a minute?” So I massaged him. And I said, “Can I ask you a personal question? Did this sudden illness scare you a little? Does the bishop know you’re up here? Would you be offended if I told him? Would you like a special blessing?” He nodded yes. “Do you have faith?”
“No,” he responded.
“Do you have faith in me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what faith is?”
“No.”
So I sat on the bed and taught him. You know, I find that most people don’t know these things because they haven’t been taught; they don’t understand. I gave him a little 2-1/2-minute talk on faith. The first principles of the gospel are what? Faith, repentance, baptism, and the gift of the Holy Ghost. Now, if you back up and look at faith, it says what? In the Lord Jesus Christ. Sometimes we leave that out. So I taught him the principles. He hadn’t ever heard that before, and he was 62 and had been born and raised in the Church.
I had noticed, of course, when I first went in that there were four other men in the room. It was a ward shared by several men without any privacy. I noticed while I was teaching (although I didn’t make it a pronounced sermon as such; it was just between the two of us) that others were straining to hear. So as I stood up in preparation for going around to place my hands upon my friend’s head. I turned, as the Spirit prompted me to do so, and I said to the other men lying in their beds, “Gentlemen, may I have your attention please?” They all sat up in bed. I said, “Perhaps you have noticed I am here to visit my friend, who is ill like you. I’m his home teacher. We’re members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—Mormons. I haven’t had a chance to get acquainted with you; I don’t know what your particular faith is, but we believe in assisting each other spiritually. I am here to attempt to do that tonight. I’m going to give this man a special blessing.” Then I taught briefly just what that was. I said, “I wouldn’t expect you to endorse it or reject it particularly, but would you mind being reverent for a moment as I perform this ordinance for my friend?” And they all just sat there. So I placed my hands upon his head, and blessed him. The Spirit touched both of us, and the tears came without shame from a man who, I guess, hadn’t been in church in 22 years. When I got all through, we embraced each other, and I said, “Now, can I ask you a personal question? Did I offend you?”
“Oh no, Brother Dunn,” he said, “this is one of the most sacred moments in my life. Thank you.” Then I turned to go out, and four other men wanted blessings, two of whom weren’t even members of the Church. Now, Latter-day Saints, you don’t have to be embarrassed at who you are or what you are. There’s a teaching moment awaiting every one of us as we share this most priceless gift which is ours. I pray God that we might catch something of that great vision and the importance of it.

I believe our Heavenly Father has provided a simply beautiful plan for finding both joy and peace and He has always shared this with His children who seek Him. One of my favorite examples of this is the hall-of-fame pro football player Gale Sayers.

Gale played for the University of Kansas, where he earned the nickname the “Kansas Comet.” He gained over 4,000 yards and was a two-time All-American. He was drafted by the Chicago Bears in 1965, and in his rookie year, he scored an NFL record 22 touchdowns and gained 2,272 all-purpose yards. Sadly, in 1968 he suffered a serious knee injury that cost him the final five games of the season. Helping him through this challenge was his fellow running back, Brian Piccolo.

Brian’s path to the NFL was much different than Gale’s. Brian played at Wake Forest, and at that time there was only one African-American player in the ACC—Darryl Hill, who played for Maryland. In 1963 when Maryland visited Wake Forest, the home-team student section began to taunt Darryl Hill. Noticing this, Brian Piccolo went over to the Maryland bench and approached Darryl and said, “I want to apologize for the behavior of my fans. . . . Then, draping his arm over Hill’s shoulder, he began walking him toward the Wake Forest side of the field, where the jeering was at its worst. By the time the two of them reached the middle of the field, the . . . screaming dropped to near silence.” [4] Two years later, Brian signed with the Chicago Bears as an undrafted free agent and made the practice squad.

Gale and Brian were the first interracial roommates in the NFL. While Gale was injured, Brian saw more playing time. Once Sayers returned, they played together as the starting tailback and fullback. After scoring a touchdown against the Atlanta Falcons, Brian pulled himself out of the game, complaining of shortness of breath. A medical examination revealed that he had an aggressive form of cancer that, in spite of surgery and treatment, would spread throughout his body. It was now Gale’s turn to help and serve his friend.

The month before Piccolo's death at the age of 26, Gale Sayers was accepting the George S. Halas Courage Award and told the crowd that they had selected the wrong person. He said, "I love Brian Piccolo and I'd like all of you to love him too. When you hit your knees to pray tonight please ask God to love him too." [5] Brian left behind a wife and three daughters.

Inspired by his friend, Gale wrote his autobiography titled I Am Third, which stands for “God is first, others are second, and I am third.”

This book was the inspiration for the 1971 movie Brian’s Song.

As a Montana rancher for most of my 70 years, I treasure the parable of the good shepherd, found in John 10:1–18, for I have lived it. The following experiences were particularly powerful in bringing this parable to life.
In biblical times each shepherd vocally summoned his personal flock from the many herds pooled together into a nighttime sheepfold (see vv. 3–4). Likewise, whenever I move my sheep, I simply call, and they follow.
Years ago my spry 96-year-old neighbor, Alice, who also raised sheep, became ill during lambing season, so I offered to do her night lambing. When I entered her lambing shed my first night “on duty,” Alice’s nearly 100 ewes were peacefully bedded down for the night. Yet when I appeared, they immediately sensed a stranger in their midst. Terrified, they instantly sought safety by huddling together in a far corner (see v. 5).
This continued for several nights. No matter how quietly I entered, the sheep panicked and fled. I spoke soothingly to the newborn lambs and ewes as I tended them. By the fifth night they no longer stirred as I worked among them. They had come to recognize my voice and trust me.
Sometime later I told Alice I would feed her dozen or so bum lambs their bottles. (A bum lamb is one whose mother has died or cannot produce enough milk.) Imitating Alice, I called to her lambs, “Come, BaBa! Come, BaBa!” I expected the lambs to hungrily stampede me as they did her. But not a single lamb even glanced up. Alice then stepped out her kitchen door and called. Hearing her voice, they eagerly rushed toward her, clamoring for their milk.
Intrigued, Alice and I conducted an experiment. Standing in my corral, Alice mimicked my call: “Here, lamby, lamby! Here, lamby, lamby!” and received no response whatsoever. But when I called with the exact same words, my sheep quickly surrounded me. Even though the words we used to summon the sheep were identical, our unfamiliar voices went unheeded. The sheep loyally heard only their true shepherd (see v. 4).

It was 1967, and I was serving as a missionary in Hildesheim, Germany. Christmas was fast approaching, and I was excited because Christmas Eve was a Sunday, and a wonderful meeting and other appropriate and special celebrations were planned.
Two weeks before Christmas, however, I received a transfer to Rendsburg. My companion, Elder Fadel, and I would be new there, and I wondered what the members would be like and how we would celebrate Christmas.
We soon came to know that the Rendsburg Branch had few members and little was being planned for Christmas Eve other than a special sacrament meeting. Our landlady, a Church member, invited us to join her for dinner on Christmas Day. I thought that would be the extent of my Christmas. But things soon changed.
The preceding missionaries had left us a tracting book including the names of several people who said they would like the missionaries to call back. Because people were so busy, finding new contacts at Christmastime was not very successful, so we thought these names might be a good place to start. We began visiting people on the list. When we visited the home of Frau Lübbert, we were greeted by a wonderful, cheery lady. She invited us in, and we learned that she was the widow of a Lutheran minister, who had passed away earlier that year. Her son was also a minister. He would be home for Christmas, and it would be just the two of them sharing their first Christmas without their husband and father. Then, with a sparkle in her eyes, she asked if we would join them for Christmas Eve. Having no other plans, we consented.
Christmas Eve arrived, and we had a lovely sacrament meeting in which we talked about the Savior and listened to the Christmas story. As my companion and I helped administer the sacrament, we pondered on the life the Savior had given for us.
After the meeting we were to meet the Lübberts at the Lutheran church. As we walked through the park, the snow was just beginning to fall, and we stopped to watch children and parents skating on a frozen pond. We saw Christmas lights here and there and heard church bells announcing the Christmas Eve service.
The Lübberts were waiting for us at their church. We enjoyed a wonderful spirit as we listened to the minister and as we sang Christmas carols in a church older than some of the carols. Singing “Silent Night” in its original language made the occasion even more special.
After the service, we got into Reverend Lübbert’s car and drove to their home. Frau Lübbert had prepared a goose for dinner, and as she put the finishing touches on the meal, my companion and I sat with Reverend Lübbert and asked him about his ministry. He talked of how he was active in a movement trying to bring Christian churches together. Many shared that dream, but others were antagonistic and fought the movement.
We then talked about our ministry. We told him of the Book of Mormon and how the Church had been restored. We told him of living prophets, and we talked about Jesus Christ and bore witness of Him as our Savior. No animosity existed among us. There was no belittling of one another’s beliefs. As I think upon it now, the words of 2 Nephi 25:26 come to mind. We literally “talk[ed] of Christ, we rejoice[d] in Christ” on that Christmas Eve. He was the center of our attention. He was the purpose of our being together.
As we bowed our heads for a prayer on the food, Reverend Lübbert asked a blessing on his fellow servants in Christ, that we would be led to those who sought Jesus. The meal was wonderful—roasted goose with all the trimmings and special German desserts.
German tradition is for parents to retire to a separate room where the tree has been newly decorated and to light the candles on the tree. The children are then allowed to enter and see the tree and their presents. So Frau Lübbert retired to the living room and closed the large sliding doors. In a moment she opened the doors and invited her “sons” to come in.
As we entered the room, where the only light was the soft light coming from the candles on the Christmas tree, Frau Lübbert handed my companion and me our gifts: some candies and a souvenir book about Rendsburg. She then gave her son his presents, and they paused a moment to remember their husband and father. We then opened the Bible to Luke and read the Christmas story. The Spirit touched each of us and witnessed again of the divine message in those verses. As we sang Christmas carols, the words bore testimony to each of us of the love we shared for Jesus Christ, His life, His teachings, and the most precious of gifts—His atoning sacrifice.
I don’t believe my feet touched the ground that night as we made our way to the bus stop. Santa Claus hadn’t come. I hadn’t been rushing around buying presents. I hadn’t attended any concerts or seen the traditional Christmas movies. My family was far away, and my packages from home were delayed because of the transfer. But I was the happiest I had ever been on Christmas Eve. For the first time in my life, Christmas had been totally focused on Christ. And the only gift I had given was my witness of Him.

7. Strive for Moderation
Part of the spirit of the Word of Wisdom is moderation in all things, except those things specifically forbidden by the Lord. It is well to avoid extremes in dress, hairstyles, makeup, conduct, speech, and music. Extremes may attract the attention of some, but they are more likely to turn off those you really want to impress.
When I was a young man, my friends and I went to an amusement park, where we rode the flying saucer. It was shaped something like an upside-down plate that went round and round. Most of us tried to get to the middle so we wouldn’t be thrown off by the centrifugal force as the saucer picked up speed. Sometimes those on the edge would grab a friend who was closer to the middle, but that would pull them both completely off the saucer. I soon recognized that the centrifugal force was far less powerful in the middle. I was quite safe in the center even though the saucer was still spinning. But it was risky when someone on the fringe latched on to me. I learned that safety comes from staying close to the center.

In the country of Angola, opposition threatened to thwart the desire of faithful and obedient Saints to see the gospel take root in their land. The Lord had sent His servants to open the door to missionary work, but on the eve of their scheduled travel, visas still had not been granted. When Church representatives visited immigration officials about the delay, they were turned away.
With approval from the First Presidency to dedicate Angola for missionary work, Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and others awaited word in Johannesburg, South Africa. At the same time, faithful member Paulina Lassalete da Cunha Gonçalves tried to open what seemed to be a closing door. She hoped to obtain letters of invitation that would grant permission for the Church party to enter Angola. Once there, they could then obtain necessary visas.
Within minutes of government offices closing in Angola, Elder Christofferson assembled with those waiting in the Africa Southeast Area offices. Then, kneeling in prayer, he asked Heavenly Father to intervene. In that same hour, immediately following his prayer of faith, the letters of invitation were signed. A loving Father in Heaven had prepared the way for the day of dedication. At the request of Elder Christofferson, a humble prayer of thanks was offered for the granted miracle.4

Ten years ago my wife and I, along with two of our sons had an experience that burned into my soul the reality that there is precious little in this life that matters very much, but there are a few things that are monumentally important.

On February 12, 2003 we are in a raft careening down a canyon river in Chile. The dark river roars in our ears as we straddle either side of the raft and paddle with our might at the command of our guide. The wet suits are essential to protect us from the mean splash of the numbing cold water which was snow only three days before. There are four other people and the river guide. His name is Joe. He has thirty years of experience running the Colorado in the Grand Canyon and many other rivers around the world. He has run this particular stretch of the Maipo River hundreds of times without a mishap. We think it safe enough and so here we are, the worst of the rapids are behind and we are loving life as we approach the take-out point. And then it happens. Suddenly, the right side of the raft rises straight up into the sky. Our two sons who were straddling and paddling the right side are launched over our heads into the water, and the large raft flips over dumping us all into the raging river.

It is dark and incredibly cold. Underwater the roar of the river is muffled. There are only the muted sounds mostly of the river mixed with the chaos of people on top of people kicking and thrashing about trying to reach the surface. I expect to surface but I don't. The river holds me down. I think I am not going to surface, but I think of Jacque, Chase and Zach more than my need for air. I know that we are in death's firm grasp and feel it squeezing life from me. I feel profound regret for putting my family at such risk.

Then I hear the full roar of the river. I am finally above water. I gasp for air, desperately looking for my wife and sons, but I don't see them. I am in another dimension. Everything is happening so fast and yet it seems to be happening in slow motion as though in a dream.

In seconds I am pulled under the water again but not before I see that I am headed toward a large rock where the force of the current turns the river back onto itself in a hydraulic roller. I try to get my legs in front of me to take the brunt of the impact but before I hit the rock the roller turns me back, over and under and then spits me out to the side into an eddy. I see Chase and Zach in the same eddy along with Jessica one of the other members of our group. She is from Germany. But where is Jacque? Where is she? I am frantic to find her. Everyone else, everything else is gone, out of sight down river.

I will stop the story here because there is not time to tell it all. The rest of the story includes the miraculous rescue of my wife Jacque who was saved by the powers of heaven and a kayaker named Simón. Repeatedly Jacque grabs the handle on the stern of Simón's kayak while he attempts to paddle her to shore, but each time her strength fails as the river rips her grip away and pulls her down and under again and again. When her strength is exhausted and she can try no more a force lifts her up and over the back of the kayak and Simón paddles her to shore.

I am not here to advocate high adventure or risk and certainly not recklessness, rather I want you to understand what the river taught me that day. Problems come and go. Difficulties, inconveniences, disappointments come and go. Even life comes and goes. There isn't much that matters greatly in this life, but there are a few things that are monumentally important, even more important than life.

“I’ll never understand why Dad had to accept a teaching position in this town,” muttered eight-year-old Ann angrily to herself. “They certainly must need teachers in places that have grass and trees and paved roads instead of dirt ones that turn into muddy rivers whenever it rains. If we hadn’t moved, I could have been baptized in a pretty place with carpeting on the floor and a white tile font.” Memories of her old stake center and meetinghouse crowded her mind. Angrily she pushed them back. Today of all days she didn’t want to cry.
“Honey, you’ll have to get your own breakfast this morning,” her mother called from behind the old sewing machine. Mother was busy transforming snowy linen into the dress Ann would wear for her baptism later that day.
Mom’s working hard to have something nice for me to wear, Ann thought, but who besides the sagebrush is going to see it? Her cousins had told her all about their baptisms, and Ann knew hers wasn’t going to be anything like theirs.
Ann walked dejectedly across the gravel-filled yard to water the four struggling fruit trees behind the house, then started to pull out some of the tumbleweeds so that the prettier golden orange poppies would have a better chance to grow. A welcome breeze carried the sound of the rustling cottonwoods by the irrigation ditch, reminding her of the rushing streams in the canyons.
“So that’s where you are, Pumpkin,” Ann’s father said when he found her. “We’ve been looking all over for you. It’s time to get ready. If you don’t hurry, we’ll leave without you,” he teased. He looked at her more closely. “You do want to go, don’t you?”
“Of course I do, only …” Ann’s voice faded. That was just it—inside she just wasn’t sure anymore. Ever since she could remember, she had looked forward to being baptized—but not in a pond in the middle of the desert! Her mother had tried to make her feel better by telling her about the people in the Book of Mormon who had been baptized in the wilderness. But it had only helped for a little while. Now the day was here, and she still didn’t have that warm, excited feeling she longed for.
Ann threw her arms around her father’s neck. “Oh, Dad! I wanted it to be so beautiful, and it isn’t going to be. And oh … you just don’t understand.”
Her father held her tight and brushed the hair back from her hot forehead. “Maybe it’s you who doesn’t understand, sweetie.” He swept his arm in a half circle toward the desert. “All this doesn’t matter. Today is a very important day in your life. By getting baptized, you show that you truly want to become a member of the Lord’s church and that you want to keep His commandments. That’s an important step to take, and we are very proud of you. It will be all right, you’ll see. You’d better go inside now and put your baptismal dress on. Your mother must be wondering what’s keeping you.”
From the backseat of the moving car, Ann watched the sagebrush turn into silver gray clumps. It was not long before Dad pulled off the two-lane highway onto a dirt road leading to the pond. The slow-moving waters were fed by a natural spring. Old poplars clustered around the pond as if to protect it from the harsh sun.
Ann’s bare toes sought the cool shadows of the trees as she waited. Finally her name was called.
Dad smiled at her, this time without the usual mischievous twinkle in his eyes. A sob that wouldn’t go away caught in Ann’s throat. She looked around at her family and realized that she’d been so selfishly concerned about her surroundings that her family’s love for her had gone by almost completely unnoticed. She had almost forgotten the real significance of this day. How grateful she was now for a chance to change.
Slowly she stepped toward the edge of the pond. Her father was there, waiting. As he tenderly lowered her into the water, the rays of the sun seemed to turn the water into liquid gold.

World leaders are recognizing the need to learn more about the Church as they become aware of the presence of a growing religion in their area or notice the good works the Church is doing through its humanitarian arm. Two leaders recently made separate visits to Salt Lake City to tour Temple Square and learn more about the Church.
Chile’s First Lady
Chile’s first lady, Luisa Durán de Lagos, visited Salt Lake City on September 21, 2004, to personally thank the Church for the many humanitarian efforts taking place in her country.
Mrs. Durán de Lagos met and talked with the First Presidency before touring the Humanitarian Center. Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles gave the tour, ending it with the presentation of a gift: 600 computers donated by Brigham Young University to be used by schoolchildren in Chile.
“I came here because I wanted to personally thank the Church for what it has given us,” she said. “We have received from the [Church] assistance with ‘Chile Solidario,’ a program designed to help Chile’s poorest families arise from poverty.”

Recently, while enjoying a family vacation, Sister Eyring, several of our children, and I attended Church meetings away from Rexburg. We were among many visitors. I was impressed by the inspiring sacrament meeting addresses and an engaging Sunday School lesson.

During that lesson, there was mention made of a family who were among the founders of what had been a small branch of the Church there. This family had deep roots in the area, dating back to the 1880s. After the Sunday School lesson, I wanted to know more.

From longtime members of what is now a ward, I learned that this family made a decent living thanks to a lumber and sawmill business. By the turn of the twentieth century, the family had the good fortune to be granted a homestead by then-president Woodrow Wilson. Their 150-acre operation had a log cabin that served as their headquarters. They also grazed cattle on the property.

The father was blessed with two hard-working sons, and their operations expanded. With the profits of the businesses, as well as property acquisition in the growing town, the brothers could have cashed out. In fact, they were tempted, but they wisely let their holdings grow in value.

Then, many years later, when the family sold the business, the surviving brother walked into his bishop’s office. Without explanation, he presented a tithing check to a member of the bishopric. This bishopric member looked at the check and said, “You have too many zeroes.” The assumption was that the last two zeroes on the check should have had a decimal point ahead of them.

But the donor clarified that his donation stood. There were not too many zeroes—only several lifetimes of hard work, thrift, and good financial investment. The beneficiaries would be countless needy Saints.

Growing up in Thailand, I sometimes felt like the odd one out as a Christian. But even though I believed differently than most of the people around me, I never felt ashamed or wanted to give up the gospel of Jesus Christ. I always loved the truths it taught me, and I did my best to follow them.

But then tragedy struck my family. And for the first time in my life, I really had to choose, develop, and hold on to faith in one of the cornerstones of the gospel—God’s plan of salvation.

In 2014, my family and I were sealed in the Hong Kong Temple. I had waited for this day for so long and was so excited. But shortly after we were able to experience this beautiful ordinance, my father passed away unexpectedly.

I was struck with terrible, overwhelming grief. I didn’t know how my family and I would be able to cope with the loss of my dad. It felt like a whole piece of us was gone. How could we endure life without him?

In this dark time, as I turned to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ for comfort, I learned how to deepen my testimony of the plan of salvation and eternal families.

I had always been taught and believed that families could be together forever. But facing a difficult loss really shook this part of my testimony. I wanted and needed to know that I would see my dad again one day. I began to want to learn more about the doctrine of eternal families.

President Henry B. Eyring, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, recently taught:
“It is through the sealing covenants in the temple that we can receive the assurance of loving family connections that will continue after death and last for eternity. …
“Trials, challenges, and heartaches will surely come to all of us. … Yet, as we attend the temple and remember our covenants, we can prepare to receive personal direction from the Lord.”

And it’s true! When I was struggling so much to feel the love of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ in my life after my dad died, studying this comforting covenant and blessing helped me see small inklings of Their love and light again.

Our temple sealing became even more meaningful to me after my dad passed away. And I realized that all covenants Heavenly Father invites us to make and keep are beautiful privileges for us.

Covenants aren’t just simple promises—they are the key to helping us invite the power of the Savior into our lives. They allow us to keep moving and hoping, despite the heartbreak and challenges of life. Because of the greater access I have to Jesus Christ’s healing power, I can endure to the end with joy, knowing that I’ll see my dad again.

As President Eyring promised, “‘No matter the outcome, all will be well because of temple covenants.’”

I’m so grateful for the gospel of Jesus Christ and the continuous hope and peace it brings, especially when I need peace in times of uncertainty and loss. I still feel grief, but my covenants warm my heart and help me keep going with hope.

Before he joined the Church, Ian used to drink tea with his friends. He also went to cheering practice on Sundays, preparing to lead cheers at his school’s sporting events. But he stopped doing those things. Instead, he started going to church, even though he is the only one in his family who does. His father supports Ian in his Church attendance, and his stepmother, who is not a member, takes him to church and then picks him up afterward.
When asked why he comes to church when it would be easier to stay home, he says simply, “I come because I want to keep my faith strong.”

Not all decisions are anticipated the way choosing what to study or whom to date might be. We aren’t necessarily given a road map of the hard choices that we will encounter. Margaret and I came upon just such a decision a few years ago—one that required great trust in the Lord and great faith in responding to the directions of His Spirit.

Before leaving to preside over the England London Mission in the summer of 2000, we prayerfully decided to sell our family home and retire from my career. However, three years later, near the end of our mission, we felt strong promptings to change our plans and return to Boston. Due to our earlier decision, we needed to find a place to live.

After an extensive search we purchased a small home that was just right for the two of us located about a mile from where we had lived for over 20 years. We moved in and immediately went to work renovating and improving it like we had done to prior homes several times before. For the next eight months we lived there comfortably.

Then, one Sunday afternoon, I received a strong impression from the Spirit that we needed to move. I was shocked by this prompting. Another move was not in our plans, and it made absolutely no sense. Yet I knew I had been told that we needed to move.

Later that day I drove down the street we had lived on for so many years before our mission. I hadn’t been on that street in nearly four years—not since we had sold our home there. But as I followed the gentle guidance of the Spirit, I noticed a nice home across the street from the home we had raised our family in. It had a “for sale” sign out in front. The thought quickly crossed my mind, “I wonder if that is the house the Lord wants us to buy.”

For two weeks I pondered the clear impression I’d had, wondering why we needed to move. Unable to make sense of it, but trusting in the Lord with humility, gratitude, and faith, I concluded I just needed to act upon the prompting, and so I finally told Margaret what had happened. She, too, was shocked, but we both felt we should do as the Spirit had prompted, so we put our home on the market and prepared to move.

After a few days of house hunting, we knew that the house across the street from our previous home was indeed the one we should buy. Now, if you knew the Boston housing market, especially at that time, you would have known as I did that this was not likely to be a wise financial decision! We had been in our other home for less than a year, and now we were selling it and buying a home larger than we needed, but we felt strongly prompted that it was what the Lord wanted us to do. We were grateful for the Lord’s guidance, even though we did not understand it.

The day after we moved, Margaret walked next door to visit Barbara, the elderly neighbor she had been acquainted with when we had lived on this street before. She knew Barbara had been raised in the Church but had become inactive when she went away to college. She hadn’t been back to church in over 60 years, and in all the years we had been neighbors previously, Barbara had seemed uninterested in the gospel. When Margaret entered Barbara’s kitchen that morning, Barbara threw her arms around Margaret and immediately began telling her about her 40-year-old daughter, Karen. Karen was dying of stomach cancer, and she and her husband were now living with Barbara so Barbara could help with Karen’s care. Before Margaret could even think, the words came out of her mouth: “Barbara, do you think that Karen would like a priesthood blessing?” Without hesitating Barbara said, “Yes, I know that she would.”

The next day a close friend from the ward joined me, and we gave Karen a priesthood blessing. It was then that Margaret and I began to understand why the Lord needed us to buy the house next door to Barbara and her daughter, Karen. Living a mile away would not have been sufficient for what the Lord needed us to do. Our trust in the Lord had created an amazing opportunity and blessing for us.

Within a week, we started sharing the gospel with Karen. We visited with her almost daily, teaching her and comforting her and her mother in any way we could. Karen started attending Church with us and loved the people in the ward and everything she was learning. She felt like she was coming home! Within a couple of months she was baptized.

Karen said that the day she was baptized was the happiest day of her life. Even though she only lived three months after her baptism, she felt such great joy and happiness and peace from the Lord. Even in her pain and misery, she felt the Lord’s arms around her as she neared the end of mortality. Those last few months of her life were truly a gift from the Lord.

We felt a little like Joseph of Egypt, trusting in the Lord though we didn’t completely understand His plan. We didn’t save an entire region from physical starvation, but, with His help, we did help feed a small family struggling with spiritual hunger at a critical time in their lives. That experience provided a capstone to all we had previously learned of trusting in the Lord.

Dominic tells of the unity that developed as he helped lead bonding experiences at the camp: “On the first night, we were supposed to have a testimony meeting in our small groups. I had to convince the young men in my group to come. We did some fun getting-acquainted activities first. None of us knew one another. But when we began bearing our testimonies, we started realizing that every one of us had things in common. Sharing testimonies made us stronger individually and as a group. The next day we walked together, laughing and talking, and we are still close to each other.”

One day after school, one of our daughters came into a teenage son’s room. It looked as if a big wind had blown through. He was sitting in the midst of it all. She felt the anger rising within, but remembered her resolution to look for the good. Searching desperately, her eye finally looked upward. “Your ceiling’s really clean, Adam!” she was able to say quite honestly. He laughed; he got the message, and he cleaned up the room.

This early morning boat launch is such a time. The stars have faded, but dawn has yet to tint the eastern horizon. On Tarawa, Kiribati’s most populous atoll (a low coral island encircling a lagoon), the few electric lights have long since blinked out. And with no wind to move the waters of Tarawa’s lagoon, the small, five-meter craft seems frozen in place, embraced on all sides by silent anticipation.
At the craft’s helm, Tune (pronounced toon-AY) gazes intently ahead. His 16-year-old friend and ward member, Moretekai Ataia, is at the bow, watching the water carefully. Though their destination, Abaiang Atoll, is several hours away, they are alert. Shoals extend right and left, and Tune must maneuver the boat safely between them until he passes the reef at the mouth of the lagoon. Once into the deep water of the ocean, he can increase his speed and steer directly toward Abaiang.
Moving into the lush landscape, they follow a familiar path to their destination—a maneaba (meeting place) in a clearing near the home of an elderly couple named Tamton and Taake Ruata. This maneaba serves as the meetinghouse for the Tabontibike-Abaiang Branch of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Tune has brought Moretekai with him today to visit Tamton and Taake and other members of the Church on Abaiang.
The Saints in Kiribati have great respect for the priesthood, and wherever Tune goes on Abaiang, he is received with gladness. It soon becomes apparent it wasn’t whim that brought him to Abaiang. He was drawn to the island by prayer—reeled in like one of his tuna. He thought he was just visiting, perhaps finding an excuse to go fishing. But the real reason he came was to give Aritaake Moutu a priesthood blessing.
“Ever since I joined the Church, I’ve depended on priesthood blessings,” Sister Moutu says. “I had a problem with one of my legs before I joined the Church. Now whenever it gives me trouble, I ask for a blessing, and I’m always healed. This morning I was praying for someone to come and give me a blessing because my husband is not on the island to give me one.” She smiles at Tune. “That’s why you came.”
“It’s always like that,” Tune says. “She lives on this isolated island in the middle of nowhere. She and her family have their challenges. There are few jobs; most people live off what they can grow and get from the sea. There are no doctors or nurses on Abaiang. The Saints here depend a lot on the Lord. And the Lord takes care of them.”
“Yes, we have our challenges,” Sister Moutu says, “even after joining the Church. But we don’t notice them as much now.”
It is time to return to Tarawa. Tune knows he needs to get back before the tide pulls too much water out of Tarawa’s lagoon, leaving parts of it too shallow for his outboard motor. But before he and Moretekai leave, Tune gives Aritaake the priesthood blessing she prayed for.

“Tara has chicken pox?” Barney and I gasped when Sister Cluff told us the bad news.
“That’s right. She broke out yesterday afternoon.”
“You mean she wasn’t at the circus last night?” Barney asked.
Tara’s mom shook her head.
I looked at Barney, and he looked at me. I felt sick just thinking of Tara missing the only circus that had ever come to Maryvale.
“You boys had better run along now,” Sister Cluff told us. “I’ll tell Tara you came by.”
We started home, but as soon as Sister Cluff closed the front door, we crept around to Tara’s room at the back of the house. We peeked in through the open window and saw Tara lying on her bed, looking at the wall.
“Hey, Tara,” I whispered, “how do you feel?”
Tara rolled over and looked at us. “Terrible,” she moaned. The way her voice quivered, I could tell that she’d either been crying or was about to start.
“Is it that bad to have the chicken pox?” I asked.
“The chicken pox aren’t bad at all,” she sobbed. “It’s missing the circus that’s so terrible.”
“Maybe another one will come to town,” Barney said, trying to cheer her.
“No it won’t. That’s the very first one that ever came to Maryvale. If another one ever comes, I’ll probably be an old lady and won’t care about going to it.”
“We could tell you about it,” I offered.
“No!” Tara cried, grabbing her pillow and covering her ears.
“We’ll have to think of some other way to cheer Tara up,” I told Barney as we left.
Barney kicked at a clump of grass and muttered, “I wish we had our very own circus. Then we could —”
“That’s it!” I practically screamed at him. “We’ll bring her our circus.”
Barney scratched his head. “But, Bryan, we don’t have a circus.”
“Maybe we don’t now, but by this afternoon we’re going to have the Bryan and Barney Circus.”
All morning Barney and I rushed around the neighborhood, putting our circus together. Everybody wanted to be in it, and it wasn’t long before we had more circus people and animals than we knew what to do with.
Tara’s mom was going visiting teaching with my mom at 2:00 P.M., so that’s when we told everyone to meet in Tara’s backyard.
Barney and I were the first ones to reach Tara’s house. Since I was the ringmaster, I wore black pants, a white shirt, and a stovepipe hat that Mom had helped me make out of an oatmeal box and newspaper. Barney was a clown. He wore his dad’s bib overalls with the pant legs rolled up; he’d stuffed old rags down the front to make a round belly, and he had on his uncle’s tennis shoes. They were so big that they wobbled and flopped when he walked. His face was painted white, and he had drawn huge red lips around his mouth and taped a red balloon to his nose.
I rushed around to Tara’s window. “Hey, Tara,” I called out excitedly, “guess what!”
Tara didn’t even look up from the book that she was reading.
“You’re going to see a circus!” Barney burst out beside me.
“The circus left this morning,” Tara whimpered.
“Yeah, but a better one showed up,” I told her.
“And,” Barney got out between giggles, “there’s going to be just one performance—in your backyard!”
“You’re fibbing,” Tara said, putting her book down. Looking at us for the first time, she gasped, “Barney, what happened to your face?”
He grinned. “I’m part of the circus.”
“And,” I said, “you’re going to have to pull a chair up next to the window if you want a front-row seat.”
Just then Kyle began to blow his trumpet—a paper towel tube—while Annie and Jackie marched across the backyard in their swimsuits, twirling batons and carrying a big sign that read, “The Bryan and Barney Circus.”
I grinned at Tara, who was hurriedly scooting a chair over to the window.
I marched back a few steps, bowed, and shouted in a deep voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the greatest show on earth, the one and only Bryan and Barney Circus! For our first incredible act, Jesse Jim, a daring young man, is going to swing on the high trapeze!” I pointed to Jim, who was standing on a stepladder by the Cluff’s maple tree. He had tied a rope to one of the branches and was getting ready to jump. “This tree,” I went on, “is five hundred feet tall. Jesse Jim’s going to be the first man to swing from it without a net.”
Just as I finished speaking, Jim came swinging over the lawn. Before I could move out of the way, he banged into me, knocking me down, then crashed into the patio furniture.
“Why didn’t you wait till I was out of the way?” I squawked, jumping up.
Jim was lying on his back. “I slipped,” was all that he had breath to say.
I shoved my stovepipe hat back on and continued, “Now, ladies and gentlemen, Terrific Tyson, the lion and tiger tamer, is going to go into a den of the most ferocious, deadly man-eating tigers and lions in the whole world!” I looked toward Tara’s window, and she was actually smiling!
Tyson marched out with a rope whip in one hand. He made a big bow, then shouted, “Send out the lions and tigers!”
Tony, Kyle’s big St. Bernard, came bounding out with a big black wig tied on his head. He was supposed to be a ferocious lion, but when he reached Tyson, he sat down and began tearing at the raggy old wig on his head. “Down!” Tyson shouted at him, waving the whip over his head. But Tony was already down, and the only thing that he cared about was getting rid of the wig.
Then Pop and Pete, Joe’s two bassett hounds, ran out. They had tiger stripes painted all over them. When Tyson saw them coming, he waved his whip and shouted, “Down!” But the dogs didn’t pay any attention to him. One went running between Tyson’s legs, almost knocking him over, and the other grabbed one end of the rope whip and began playing tug-of-war.
I shook my head disgustedly, then looked around desperately for Barney. “Are you ready?” I whispered loudly. When he nodded, I warned, “Don’t blow it like the others.” Then I announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, now we will show you the most terrible monster ever to be found in a circus. Baritone Barney has captured and trained a man-eating, two-horned unicorn. He will—”
Even before I could finish, Barney’s pet goat, Harriet, came galloping around the corner of the house, pulling a red wagon. Barney, flopping around in his clown suit, chased after her, waving his arms and shouting, “Harriet, slow down! I have to get into the wagon.” But Harriet didn’t slow down until she’d reached the other side of the lawn and started eating Sister Cluff’s petunias.
I shook my head. So far, this was the worst circus in the whole world. I swallowed and began to shout again. “Ladies and gentlemen, for our next act, we have the world’s strangest animal, a two-headed cat!”
As I spoke, Annie came out carrying her two cats wrapped together in an Ace bandage with both their heads sticking out. The cats squirmed and twisted until they broke free of the bandage. As they jumped out of Annie’s arms and dashed for the tree, Tony spotted them. He ran after the cats, with Pete and Pop following him, barking and howling.
When Barney’s goat, Harriet, heard the racket, she bleated and started charging around the yard, pulling the red wagon behind her. Barney lunged after the goat but tripped on his floppy shoes and fell flat on his face. His balloon nose popped, and half his belly stuffing came out.
When the dogs realized that they weren’t going to get the cats, they charged after Harriet. Harriet went crazy. She ran in circles, still dragging the wagon behind her. She knocked over the lawn chairs, then raced up and down Sister Cluff’s petunia bed.
I knew that we had to stop Harriet before she tore up every flower in the Cluff’s yard, so I lunged for her and grabbed her around the neck. She just shook her head, kicked her legs in the air, and sent me crashing into the flower bed!
As I started to get up, I heard a terrible scream. The Bryan and Barney Circus came to a sudden halt. All of us—the animals, too—turned around and saw Sister Cluff staring in shock at the terrible mess in her yard. “What’s going on here?” she yelled. “Look at my … Oh, my!”
None of us answered. I felt sick inside. I didn’t know how to explain to Sister Cluff what had happened. I stuffed my hands into my pockets and stared at the ground.
Then I heard someone laugh. At first it was just a little giggle, but soon it exploded into side-splitting laughter. I lifted my head a tiny bit and looked toward the house. There was Tara at the window, laughing so hard that big happy tears were rolling down her cheeks.
“It’s the Bryan and Barney Circus,” she explained to her mom between laughs. “And it’s the best circus that’s ever come to Maryvale.”
“A circus?”
Tara nodded, still giggling.
“But who’s going to clean up this mess?” Sister Cluff asked. She didn’t sound angry anymore, though.
“Oh, we’ll clean up the mess,” Barney spoke up, beaming and grinning. “The Bryan and Barney Circus is a lot more than a regular, ordinary circus. We clean up messes too.”
Sister Cluff looked at me. I nodded and smiled. Sister Cluff smiled back, and before she could say another word, the Bryan and Barney Circus started cleaning up the yard.
When we were finished, I turned to Tara, who was still at the window, and said, “I wish that you could have seen Annie’s snake act, Justin’s frog race, and—”
“Maybe I can see that another day,” she cut in merrily. “And as soon as I get over the chicken pox, I want to join the Bryan and Barney Circus.”

I could read you a letter here tonight that I read to the Regional Representatives, and I think I should read parts of it, at least. Maybe I can tell you what is in it.
The president of the Korea Mission, when I was over there, was telling me of the problems they have with young men in the service because the bishops were not sending the recommends for two or three months after they had arrived. He said that our servicemen do not enjoy—in fact, they resent—being there, and they become lonesome, and there are prostitutes there in great numbers. In fact, he told me that it was a common thing for these soldiers to have a prostitute companion. He told me an experience where one of our priests who was lonely, who had not been too active, became involved with one of these prostitutes. And then one of our young men who was living the gospel and who was interested in trying to save these young men contacted him, worked with him, and finally got him to acknowledge the value of the Church, to repent of his doings, and to strive to work as he should to be worthy of the blessings of the Lord. And then he said if he could have just got hold of that boy when he arrived, he could have helped him and probably prevented this tragedy. He goes on to tell of the experience with many of the young men there, and how many of them bear testimony that it was because somebody met them and worked with them, and gave them companionship and love, that they were able to withstand the temptations so prevalent there.