Gospel Story Finder

In the spirit of sacrifice, I recall a conversation I had some years ago with my stake president in Idaho. We were discussing the forthcoming Aaronic Priesthood–Scout campout. I explained to him that it would be necessary for each person to bring his own sleeping bag, to which the president replied, “I have never slept in a sleeping bag.”
I quickly responded, “President, you can’t be serious. You have lived in beautiful Idaho all these years and you have never slept in a sleeping bag?”
“Nope!” he said, “I never have. But I have sure lain in a lot of ‘em.” And then he went on to say, “And I’ll lie in a whole bunch more of them if it will help to save boys.”

My wife, one of seven daughters of Eddy and Sarah Martin, inherited the frugality of her parents. Let me illustrate. A couple of years ago, our mainly brick house in Provo needed the trim to be painted. Since an estimate by a professional painter said it would cost us about $3,000, Claralyn asked me if perhaps I would like doing the job myself —"Think of the money we could save!" Now I don't mind painting, but the main difficulty I saw was with the height. Our home is three stories tall and, of course, most of the trim is on the upper story. I demanded a recount of the vote but the "dimpled chads" unfortunately swung the vote in her direction. So, I was elected. With the money saved, I bought a tall extension ladder, lots of paint, brushes, scrapers and other supplies. All went well on the lower levels. But then I eventually had to get to the very top of the house. My ladder would not reach. Not to worry. Anyone with a PhD and normal household items should be able to tackle any of life's problems. After considering available resources, I decided to drag a wooden picnic table to the appropriate spot and placed the extension ladder on top of it. But I encountered two additional problems: First, the picnic table plus the ladder, fully extended, still did not permit me to quite reach the peak. And second, the ground sloped putting everything at an angle. What to do? In the garage I found some leftover bricks and some long 2x4s. By stacking the bricks to the appropriate height, I could compensate for the sloping ground while giving me a foot or so of extra height.

By putting the long 2x4s over the bricks, the picnic table on the boards and the ladder on the picnic table, I figured I could finally reach those upper levels. It was time to ascend my engineering masterpiece — bucket of paint tied carefully around my neck, paintbrush and scraper in my hand, ladder tightly grasped by the other hand. As I looked down from the top, it appeared to me that I was several thousand feet above my yard below. Holding onto the ladder for dear life, I carefully reached up to scrape and paint those upper corners. I had the distinct sense that the slightest slip on my part would not only result in paint smearing over onto the bricks but in a very rapid descent that would likely land me in the hospital or, possibly, morgue. I then realized two things — first, how foolish I was not to let the experts do this work and, second, how thankful I was that my ladder, picnic table, 2x4s and bricks had integrity — I trusted them to perform their functions and they did. I was glad the unseen ladder manufacturer left no weak spot on that ladder that would cause it to buckle under pressure. The table did not give way. The bricks and the boards held under pressure. I quickly but very carefully finished my work at that high elevation and, I am happy to report, descended to ground level without incident. I am even more pleased to inform you that next time this kind of work is needed, Claralyn has given me permission to call in experts who have not only experience in this type of stunt work but also great insurance coverage. I also made the observation in painting some areas, that parts of the wood trim looked fine from the exterior but the interior was rotted away. I could push my finger right through the wood. It lacked integrity. It appeared all right from the outside but its purpose of providing insulation and moisture protection had been compromised. I had to replace several sections.

After coming home from work one evening, I saw two young men at my door. They announced themselves to be missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I shouted at them loudly, then took one of them by the back of the neck and ordered them off my property with the threat, “And don’t let me see you in this neighborhood again, or I’ll make you sorry you ever came here!” They left my property quickly.

The incident, typical of many of my days, was soon forgotten. The following week, as my wife and I were about to sit down for our evening meal, the doorbell rang. I answered it, and much to my surprise, there stood the same two young men I had ordered off the property a week ago! Before I had a chance to say a thing, one of them looked me straight in the eye and said very sincerely, “I know you don’t want to hear what we have to say, but we have a very important message for you from our Savior, Jesus Christ. He wants you to hear it.”

The confident, yet humble tone in his voice took me by surprise, and I listened. Then they listened as I expressed my anger and bitterness. They seemed to understand. They talked to me about “free agency.” My heart responded. And thus began my search for truth.

I was eager for each weekly visit. My soul hungered for the answers to the questions Who am I? Where did I come from? Why am I here? And after death, what? The missionaries helped open the eyes of my understanding through the scriptures. My longing, aching heart began to heal.

They explained my unanswered questions. I came to understand that although my little boys had died so early in life, they had had the privilege of earth life and had chosen to come here. They were not victims of a revengeful God who mercilessly let them drown, but were party to a great plan long before they became my David and my Boyd. This life was merely a step forward in their eternal progression. The magnitude of this idea made a great impact upon me.

Today tears still fill in my eyes when I think of my boys. But they are not tears of anger or hate. They are tears of love and understanding. This new knowledge of the plan of salvation has transformed my life, and I have joined the ranks of the believers.

Coach Ken Jenks has some good news and some bad news for the boys on his soccer team. As members of a recreation-league soccer team, they’ve had incredible success. The LDS boys, who have teamed up with nonmember friends, are some of the best soccer players in the area.
The coach starts with the good news. “Well, boys, we’ve got a great team, and the Southern California Soccer League championship is in the bag,” he says. Then his face clouds a bit, and he delivers the bad news. “But we’ll be playing three games, and one of them is on a Sunday. How do you feel about that?”
Five hands reluctantly but firmly go up. Eric Miller, 14, Jeff Jenks, 14, Justin Bonsey, 14, and twins Trent and Travis Weaver, 15, stand up and tell the group, “We can’t play on Sunday.” The boys, who are members of the Cypress First Ward, Cypress California Stake, aren’t happy about the idea of missing out on the biggest game of the season, but they are sure about their decision.
Although the controversy of the games on Sunday still continues in Orange County sports leagues, the boys’ stand is beginning to make a difference. Many local sports organizations are holding Sunday games less often.
So, as expected, the soccer team plays well on Saturday and wins easily. Then the Mormon boys wish their team the best and go to church on Sunday. The non-LDS members of the team play the championship game and lose. The team takes third place.
Eric shrugs his shoulders, “This game is a temporary thing. I really would have liked to play that championship game if it hadn’t been on Sunday, but I know that keeping the Sabbath will help me return to my Father in Heaven.”
Justin echoes Eric, “It was an individual decision for me, too. I know that it is right and so it didn’t bother me either. The next day some of the kids at school were a little upset, but I think they respected me for staying with my standards.”
And respect from peers, parents, coaches, and other players is a valuable by-product of the sacrifice these boys have made. But perhaps even more important than that is the fact that their example does not go unnoticed by the younger boys waiting for their turn to play the game—but not on Sunday.
Editor’s note: Because of the stand these and other LDS boys have made, regular-season soccer games are no longer held on Sunday in Orange County, California.

I know how you feel. In my school, the children think that I am strange and that I am “too” good because I never swear or do inappropriate things. I felt very much alone, but I made friends with some girls who have good hearts, although they are not members of the Church. Today, whenever students need help with something, they come to me because they know that I am a member of the Church, that I would never lie, and that they can trust me.Ester K., 11, Itatiba, Brazil

The bombs were going off all around me, and gunfire zinged overhead. But I had to keep crawling, dragging the 40-pound ammunition can with me through the dirt and mud. My basic training in South Carolina was nearly finished. We were in the final ordeal to test our skills, endurance, and obedience. Each day had been challenging, and it seemed that I’d been able to meet each task and accomplish it. But I was really being pushed this time.
When I first arrived, I realized that in order to succeed, I needed to learn from those around me. Watching the people who were excelling, I followed their lead. With each new skill, I looked to see how the best men of our group worked at it, and then followed their example to develop my full potential. It was the same lesson my mother and father had taught me since childhood. They read the scriptures, and they taught me to, so I read them daily. I was shown by them to kneel and pray, morning and night. They taught me to follow the example of my Savior and live my life as He lived His.
When the going would get tough, my mother always said, “Sing a Primary song; it will carry you through.”
So there I was, with my face in the dirt, struggling through the gunfire and explosions, in the final big test of my training, and my mother’s words came to mind. I began singing, softly at first, “I am a child of God, and He has sent me here, has given me …” (Hymns, no. 301).
Suddenly, a drill instructor on the course shouted, “Recruit Letteer! What are you singing?”
I thought I had been singing to myself, but in the pressure of the moment I must have started singing out loud. Now, over the din on the field, one of my drill instructors had heard me. I lifted my face from the mud and called out, “Sir! I’m singing ‘I Am a Child of God,’ sir!”
He looked at me, paused for a moment, then shouted, “Carry on, recruit!”
And I will, I’ll carry on as a United States Marine in the Reserve Corps, and in a few months, as Elder Letteer somewhere in the world as a missionary. And when the going gets tough, I’ll just look to my example, Jesus Christ, and know how to “carry on” again.

HI!
My name is Cory Kennedy, and I live in Sandy, Utah. My good friends, Stuart Weichers and Mark Jensen, and I had a really neat experience last year. We’re members of Cub Scout Pack 953, and the three of us won first place in the National Cub Scout Physical Fitness Contest.
Each Cub Scout pack participating in the competition had an eight-year-old Cub Scout, a nine-year-old Cub Scout, and a ten-year-old Cub Scout on its team. Teams compete against teams from other packs in five different events: sit-ups, pushups, the broad jump, the softball throw, and the fifty-yard dash. My dad was our Cubmaster, and in our own pack competition Mark was the eight-year-old winner, Stuart was the nine-year-old winner, and I was the ten-year-old winner. We have a lot of really good athletes in our neighborhood, so our pack competition was tough.
The three of us decided to work out together before and after school. We took turns going to each other’s houses for workouts. Sometimes our parents or older brothers coached us, and sometimes we just worked out by ourselves. My dad let me borrow his stopwatch so we could tell how we were doing. Our families really pulled for us to do well.
We knew we had to score as high as we could in every event, but each of us also had a specialty that we kept trying to improve on. Mark has awfully strong legs, and he could broad jump a long way. Stuart could do more push-ups than the rest of us. And sit-ups were my best event.
When we first started working out as a team, we were doing about forty push-ups and forty sit-ups a minute. Then each day we would add one or two more. We pushed each other pretty hard, and we even made a game out of it. Mark and I are University of Utah fans, and Stuart is a Brigham Young University booster, and we pretended that it was the Utes against the Cougars.
After winning in our district competition, we competed against all the district winners from the Great Salt Lake Council. Boy, were we nervous! But our hard training paid off. Each of us gave it everything he had, and we scored well in all of the events. Just as we had hoped, Mark won in the broad jump (sixty-nine inches), Stuart won in the push-ups (eighty-nine in one minute), and I won in the sit-ups (ninety-six in one minute).
We won the council competition, and our scores were sent to Boy Scout headquarters in Irving, Texas. After a few weeks we were notified that we had won the national championship. We were really excited. You should see the huge trophies we received! Our families are really proud of us, and each of us had a super feeling. I think we all learned a very important lesson in the competition: Nothing is impossible, and you can do anything you want to if you are willing to work hard enough.

I started attending my new senior school last September. In a school of over a thousand students, I was the only Latter-day Saint. In my religion class of 30 people, only I and one other girl attend church of any kind. On my first day of class, my religion teacher, Mrs. Johnson*, asked us to name the holy books that are used in different religions. I said the Book of Mormon, and at first she wasn’t sure which church used it. I explained that I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She asked me to choose my favorite scripture for the following week and also tell the class about my church.
The following week I read Moroni 10:4, which was the first scripture the missionaries shared with me and my mom. I told the class about the First Vision and how Joseph Smith received and later translated the gold plates. I was really nervous because my friends think that you are a geek if you go to church. I was afraid that they would make fun of me. But when I started speaking, the Spirit was with me, and everybody listened with interest. Afterward, they asked questions.
Since then, Mrs. Johnson has started reading the Book of Mormon and the Ensign, although she hasn’t yet come to church. Also, in every religion lesson we talk about my beliefs. And some of my friends are planning to come to church activities.
My prayer is that one day I will be just one of many Latter-day Saints at my school. Everyone deserves an opportunity to learn about Jesus Christ and His Church and return to live with Heavenly Father. If we keep the gospel to ourselves, we are being selfish. We should share it with everyone, no matter who they are. That is what Jesus Christ wants us to do, and I am trying to be like Him.

Joseph Smith continued to visit the Knights in Colesville, to preach in their homes, and to share the Book of Mormon with them as it was translated. One day after a gospel discussion in Colesville with Joseph Smith, Newel Knight retired to the woods to pray. Newel found himself overtaken by an evil spirit that seemed to almost take control of his body. Distorted and distraught, Newel returned to his home and sent for Joseph. The Prophet came immediately and cast out the evil spirit, using the power of the priesthood. As a holy spirit filled Newel, he was literally lifted from the floor in a great spiritual experience. Many family members and neighbors witnessed this event that Joseph Smith referred to as the first miracle in the Church.

When Mom and Dad said we’d be living in a one-room cabin in Nauvoo this summer, I wasn’t excited about being so close with my family. But we’d be performing in the City of Joseph pageant, which sounded fun, so I thought I’d give it a try.
On opening night, as I looked at the performers in their 1840s costumes, I felt a oneness with my Nauvoo ancestors. How real they seem to me now. Lots of people have told us how the pageant has touched them, too.
Tonight our family won an award from the director for working so well together. I guess it’s not so bad to be close as a family!

As a missionary, Elder Eves spent mornings tutoring trainees who were working on their high school certificates or an equivalent diploma. “I could not have passed my math section without him,” says Brandy, a single mother working to improve her employment skills.
But David’s tutoring wasn’t just about teaching educational skills. He also taught the missionary discussions to Rita Roberts, another trainee. “He helped me understand the gospel step by step,” Rita says. “And I knew I could count on him for anything. He and his family helped me move twice. You couldn’t find a better person—not just in the classroom, but anywhere. He’s unique.”

The leaders at the Sandy Utah Hidden Valley Stake youth conference can’t hear themselves think, and as you might expect, it’s the youth making all the noise. So are the advisers doing anything to stop this racket? Hardly. Actually, they’re encouraging it.
Why? Because this is a construction site, and the young men and women are busier than a swarm of honeybees. They’re building a dairy and hay barn next to Brigham Young’s farmhouse at This Is the Place State Park in Salt Lake City, Utah, and they’re doing just about all of it themselves. They’re throwing up walls, laying down shingles, and much more, all while dressed in long pioneer clothing. It’s hot and the work is hard, but you won’t find anyone complaining here. They’re having too much fun.
The Hidden Valley youth decided to build the barn as both a service to the park and a way to kindle their own pioneer spirit.
“Everyone pulled together,” said Lance Banks, 18, a member of the stake youth council who helped plan the event. The whole stake got into the act. Materials and labor were donated by members who had the means or the right skills. “A lot of prayers were answered right there,” Lance says.
Today’s the big day for most of the physical work, but the youth have done a lot just to prepare for this event. First they dug the footings by hand, and then they helped assemble the structural frame. Now they’re hauling and cutting the lumber—which came from a 1904 railroad trestle that once spanned the Great Salt Lake—and using it to build the walls and a loft on each side. Just a little hammering, right?
Not exactly. Each of the nails being used is three inches long and thicker at the bottom than some nails are at the top. Not only that, but several are required to secure each board. They’ve been fashioned by a blacksmith to resemble nails used by the pioneers, and they’re making for some pretty sore muscles.
“It took a lot of strength,” admits Rob Hunt, 16. “I had to switch arms.”
After pounding for several minutes on the same nail, many of the young men and women are beginning to wonder how the pioneers ever got anything built. That’s where cooperation comes in.
“Teamwork is the most important thing here,” says Allison Berrett, 14, and she’s not joking. To finish driving some of the nails, quite a few of the young people are taking turns with the hammer, giving each other a break. Not only does the work go fast, but spirits are lifted as well, and several of them say that the hammering will be their most memorable part of the day.
With fatigue, heat, and constant noise all around, one might expect to see a slower pace as the day wears on. Not here. You’d be hard pressed to find someone willing to give up their post, even when it’s time to give someone else a turn.
“[The leaders] were telling us to get out of there because other people needed a chance to work,” says Kelly Peterson, 17, when her time was up. “I wanted to do more, but there were just too many people.”
It’s obvious that everyone wants to contribute, maybe because they’re beginning to realize the great pioneer legacy they’re becoming a part of. They’re grateful for what the pioneers gave them, and they’re learning to appreciate things the early Salt Lake settlers had to do without, like modern tools.
“It’s hard because you don’t get to use all the electric stuff you can, like a nail gun,” says Amanda Robinson, 16. “It teaches us how hard it was for the pioneers.”
“It makes you appreciate what you have,” says Robert Burton, 15.
Nate Smith, 16, sees another important lesson in these trials. “The sacrifices [the pioneers] made are things we can really turn to when we feel like we have it hard,” he says. “If they can do it, with the Lord’s help, why shouldn’t we?”
While they’re here, the youth are learning more about the pioneer lifestyle by touring Brigham Young’s home and visiting an authentic pioneer village. They’re also doing other small service projects, like weeding around the village, mowing Brigham Young’s lawn (tell that to your grandchildren), and tying quilts for a homeless shelter. Not many of the youth have ever tied a quilt before.
“It makes you feel like a real pioneer,” says 14-year-old Laura Campbell. “We’ve known about [quilting], but we just haven’t experienced it.” That seems to be the key: To fully appreciate what the pioneers went through, sometimes you have to be there.
“We’re pioneers ourselves,” says J. D. Price, 14, and he’s right. Never before has a group of nonprofessionals been allowed to do anything like this in the park, the place marking the spot where the first pioneers entered the Salt Lake Valley. Whether or not others are invited in the future will depend on how everyone behaves today. No pressure, right?
Some of these youth are lucky enough to have pioneer heritage in their ancestry as well, and while it’s not necessary to gain an appreciation of pioneer history, it never hurts. Take Alicia Bruening, 18. She tells the story of how her great-great-great grandfather crossed the plains and helped build the great doors for the Salt Lake Temple. How does that make her feel?
“It’s really great, because one day when I get married, I’ll be so excited to go stand in front of those doors,” Alicia says. “It’s neat to see that my ancestry actually contributed to the temple. Part of me is in the temple.”
Back at the barn, the walls and the loft are nearly done, as young men and women continue to swarm around every corner of the building. The events of the day have given them a newfound appreciation for those who came before, and now they feel as if they’ve given something back.”
“It’s almost as if we’re rebuilding part of the past,” says Kelly Peterson. “Brigham Young walked around these grounds. He probably walked right where I was walking. He probably had a barn here at one time. We’re bringing it back to life.”
For these youth, this barn is a piece of their own history, a new legacy. “It’ll be cool to come back when you’re older and take your grandkids,” says Rosie Simmons. She and many others, including all of the stake Primary children, each signed their names to the back of one of the shingles adorning the roof. “It will be neat to go and say, ‘My name’s up on that,’” Rosie adds.
As the day winds to a close, many of the youth are taking the opportunity to step back and look at what they’ve added to the landscape here. Some are even drawing a comparison between barn and testimony construction.
“We’re starting out with the framework, and that’s the gospel,” says Abbey Daw, 15.
Her friend Rianna Berger, 14, continues the analogy. “The nails help strengthen your testimony,” she says. “A nail could be a talk that you heard, and a board could be something that someone said that really helped you.”
Put them all together and you’ve got a shelter to protect you from spiritual storms, just as a barn protects from physical elements. Building such a shelter is never easy, but that’s often what makes it worthwhile.
“You can’t do it unless it’s hard work,” Abbey says. “Hard work is the only way to gain a testimony.”
Now there’s something you can build on.

From the moment of his conversion, John Taylor was committed to giving his all to the Lord’s work. Through his decades of service, he placed his trust in the Lord, knowing that if he served faithfully, the Lord would sustain him and enable him to accomplish His will. On one occasion when Elder Taylor was preaching the gospel on the Isle of Man near England, he had arranged for the printing of some tracts he had written in response to the false accusations against the Church and the Prophet Joseph Smith. However, the printer refused to deliver the tracts until he was paid in full. Anxious to distribute the tracts as soon as possible, Elder Taylor prayed to the Lord for help, which was soon given.

A few minutes after his prayer was offered, a young man came to the door, and upon being invited to enter handed Elder Taylor an envelope and walked out. The young man was unknown to him. The envelope contained some money and a little note which read: ‘The laborer is worthy of his hire,’ and no signature was placed thereon. A few minutes later a poor woman engaged as a fish vendor came to the house and offered a little money to assist him in his ministerial labors. He told her there was plenty of money in the world and he did not wish to take her money. She insisted that the Lord would bless her the more and she would be happier if he would accept, whereupon he received the offering, and to his surprise the poor woman’s mite, added to what the young man had given him, made exactly the amount sufficient to pay the printer the balance due him (Andrew Jenson, Latter-day Saint Biographical Encyclopedia, 4 vols. (1901-36), 1:16).

Almost four years ago Marilyn and I attended a district conference in Kanazawa, Japan. The theme for the Saturday evening session was “The Atonement of Christ.” We spoke about the Savior’s sacrifice, his knowledge concerning each person, his invitation to have a “one by one” relationship, and his desire to help each individual overcome the trials and temptations in his or her life. At the end of the Sunday morning session, a young Japanese woman sought me out. She wanted to share a special experience she had had during the morning session. While listening to the sermons, she had reflected on the message of the previous evening. Suddenly she realized that the Savior knew the songs of her heart. He knew how she felt about the gospel. He could read the thoughts and feelings that were hers. With tears rolling down her cheeks, she told how wonderful it was to know that the Savior of the world knew her.

Several years ago I needed to get my car inspected for safety and emissions standards. I arrived at a garage one afternoon to find the line for inspections eight or nine cars long.
It was a beautiful spring day, so I decided to roll down the windows, turn off the car engine, and pull out a copy of “The Family: A Proclamation to the World,” which I kept in my car along with other Church materials. My stake president had recently counseled stake members to commit the proclamation to memory. This free time gave me the perfect opportunity to do so. Eventually, my turn came to have my car inspected.
One of the men who did the inspections indicated that he would drive my car into the garage. Then he asked me to wait in an adjacent room until the inspection was completed. Time passed as I watched other customers come and go. After a while I began to think that something serious must be wrong with my car.
Finally the mechanic came from the garage into the waiting room and indicated that my car had passed inspection. What a relief! I paid the cashier and walked out to where he had parked my car and found him waiting for me.
“Miss,” he said, looking at me intently, “can I please talk to you for a minute?”
“Of course,” I told him.
“I want to apologize for taking so long with your car inspection. You see, when I drove your car into the garage, I noticed a piece of paper on the passenger seat that talked about families. Instead of immediately returning your car to you, I sat in the garage and read that piece of paper over and over.”
He continued, “What is this church? What is this document on the family? Can I have a copy of it? It says it was written by Apostles. Do you mean to tell me that there are Apostles on the earth today just like in Jesus’s time? Please, I need to know.”
I was almost speechless but gathered my thoughts. I told him that there are indeed apostles and prophets on the earth, just as in the time of Jesus Christ. I told him about the Prophet Joseph Smith and the Restoration of the gospel. I then gave him all the Church materials I had in my car. He gave me his name and phone number so the missionaries could contact him. Our conversation ended with his sincere expression of gratitude.
As I drove away, tears filled my eyes. I was grateful I had left a copy of “The Family: A Proclamation to the World” on the car seat.
I have never forgotten the look of eagerness in that man’s eyes. This experience was an unforgettable lesson on the power of the proclamation on the family, the reality of modern-day revelation, and the importance of sharing the gospel in everyday—and sometimes unexpected—situations.

“I hope each young man who has been ordained to the Aaronic Priesthood is given a spiritual awareness of the sacredness of his ordained calling, as well as opportunities to magnify that calling. I received such an opportunity as a deacon when the bishopric asked that I take the sacrament to a shut-in who lived about a mile from our chapel. That special Sunday morning, as I knocked on Brother Wright’s door and heard his feeble voice call, ‘Come in,’ I entered not only his humble cottage but also a room filled with the Spirit of the Lord. I approached Brother Wright’s bedside and carefully placed a piece of the bread to his lips. I then held the cup of water, that he might drink. As I departed, I saw tears in his eyes as he said, ‘God bless you, my boy.’ And God did bless me—with an appreciation for the sacred emblems of the sacrament and for the priesthood which I held.

“Thank you, President, I’ll be there tomorrow.”
What a great man, I thought to myself as I hung up the telephone. President Jerry E. Callister of the Mississippi Jackson Mission had just extended a two-week mission call to me to serve the Lord in the Bossier City, Louisiana, area. What a way to find out what true missionary work is like, I said to myself over and over.
I spent the next 24 hours packing, praying, and preparing myself for everything I could possibly come in contact with during the next two weeks. I prayed that I would be helpful to the missionaries, Elders Abbott and Watkins, with whom I would serve.
Saturday came quickly. My family drove me to Bossier, where we ate lunch before I called the elders from a pay phone across the street. After what seemed like an eternity but was only 10 or 15 minutes, the two young men, only a few years older than myself, pulled alongside us in their late-model mission car. I didn’t know what to do or how to act, but Mom quickly nudged me towards them. I timidly introduced myself to Elder Abbott. What a spiritual giant; I can’t possibly be of help to him, I thought to myself. And I questioned why I was out there.
After meeting Elder Watkins, I had nearly convinced myself that I couldn’t be of help to either of them.
I said good-bye to my family, and before I knew it the elders and I were out on the streets knocking on doors. I was amazed at how eloquently the elders approached the people. After an hour of tracting, Elder Abbott turned to me and said, “This house is yours.” I almost panicked. Out of nowhere I had this bone-chilling, nerve-deadening feeling.
“I can’t,” I said embarrassed.
“Yes you can,” he said. “You’ve got to think positively. There may be a potential convert in there.”
“Okay, okay,” I answered.
Knock, Knock.
As the door opened I could feel my heart sink down to my socks. The room was filled with drunken teenagers—I was only a teenager myself. As I began the door approach they began mocking and tempting us. Why me, Lord? I silently asked.
I didn’t knock on another door the rest of the evening. Later that night I began thinking about my day as a “full-time” missionary. Why did I have such feelings? Why was I scared to talk to people about the gospel? How would I be able to serve a two-year mission if I couldn’t even stand up to people and share the truths of the gospel for two weeks? I decided that there was only one way to get help with my concerns.
As I knelt down in humble prayer and poured out the desires of my heart to Heavenly Father, a peaceful feeling came over me. A still, small voice told me to search the scriptures. I began flipping through the pages of my Bible when I saw a verse outlined in red. It was a seminary scripture from the previous year. As I glanced down at it I knew my prayer had been answered. A warm feeling of insight and understanding came over me as I read the verse: “For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth” (Rom. 1:16).
Never before had this scripture come across to me with such astounding force. “The power of God unto salvation,” I said aloud. That was the key. I need not be ashamed of the gospel because it is the very key to salvation. Without it, not one soul will ever progress after this life.
The next morning I awoke with an inexpressible desire to spread the gospel.
Now five of the people I helped teach in those two weeks are members of the Church. What a strength we can receive through listening to the promptings of the Spirit!
I vividly remember the feeling I had as the Holy Ghost bore witness to me of that important scriptural message found in Romans. And to this day when I am confronted with an opportunity to share the gospel, that same still, small voice whispers in my ear, “the power of … salvation, the power of … salvation.”

A few years ago I attended a summer swim camp at Brigham Young University in Provo. Growing up in Tennessee, I didn’t have many LDS friends. I was so excited to fly west to meet other kids who shared my faith and passion for swimming. Little did I know that my decision to go to this camp would change my life.
Everyone attending the camp was given a dorm room and a roommate. My roommate, Sam, was on the water polo and swim teams at his high school in Southern California. He also just happened to be one of the coolest guys I’ve ever met. Within five minutes of talking, I felt like we were best friends.
Sam talked to everyone. He radiated confidence and people were drawn to him. He made more friends in a few hours than I had made in my entire life!
That night, Sam and I were in our dorm room getting ready for bed. I was about to turn the lights off when Sam quietly knelt down beside his bed and offered a silent prayer. I was blown away! How could someone so popular and so good at sports be humble enough to get on his knees and pray at night? I turned the lights off and lay in bed thinking about what I had just witnessed.
The next day, I saw my friend in a whole new light. I wondered why he continued to kneel and pray at night when his parents weren’t there to make him. I started to have my own personal prayers. At first, I just prayed while lying in bed. Then I built up the courage to pray kneeling. I would turn the lights off, kneel, pray, and jump into bed in one fluid motion.
As I started to gain confidence in myself, my prayers grew longer and more sincere. My spiritual strength increased with every prayer. I realized what Sam had was spiritual strength. He radiated that strength with love toward other people.
By his example, Sam inspired me to pursue water polo, and I later had the wonderful opportunity to play for the University of Tennessee. But more importantly, through his simple example of praying each night, he inspired me to continually strengthen myself spiritually through prayer. (See Alma 37:6–7.)
Serving as a missionary in the Idaho Pocatello Mission, I pray more than ever before. Every time I kneel in prayer I remember my friend Sam, who taught me by example to “set my face unto the Lord God, to seek by prayer” His strength and comfort (Daniel 9:3). This is one way that I can achieve the divine potential that God sees in me.

I will begin our consideration of these questions with a story from a few years ago that has significantly influenced me. It is a story that identifies the uniqueness of this campus and how we can be even more of a light on a hill. As I tell the story and review the counsel of prophets, I ask each of us to ponder what we can do to meet the challenge given to us by Church Board of Education to improve our learning.

This story has to do with the role of faith, spirit, and consecration in learning. It is a story about Chris Bresee (whom some of you may remember as a student here) and his experience learning Japanese. Chris said,

"After a month in the class, it was plain to me that I was the worst student in the class. Nothing seemed to stick to my mind and when it finally did I was so far behind the rest of the class I almost felt like withdrawing and taking the bad mark on my record."

The difficulty of learning Japanese surprised Chris because he had been so successful in learning Icelandic on his mission. He went on to explain:

"I was sitting in the library one day and I felt like I should pray. I spoke to the Lord and asked Him to help me learn this language. Then a thought came to me to pray that I could use it in His work one day. I prayed and said something to the effect. "Thou helped me learn Icelandic to bless others in Iceland, if thou would help me learn Japanese I will use it for whatever purposes thou would have me in thy service." After I prayed I felt I should begin my studies by studying the Book of Mormon in Japanese and study it in the same format I did in Icelandic. I don't think I have ever noticed a change as quick as what the Lord did for me preparing me for some future service. I remember words, characters, and pronunciation faster than I did relying on my ability...It seems all of my studies could be benefited by this course of intent. To prepare to be of use."

Some of Benjamin’s acquaintances felt the same way. “People wanted me to believe that we were too young, that my soon-to-be wife should complete an education first, and that if we got married, it would mean that we would have children, which we were also too young for,” he says.

Although Ane and Benjamin believed in the gospel’s emphasis on family and marriage, others not of their faith did not generally share this priority—at least not for young adults. “People in my town are strongly focused on education and work,” Ane explains. “This is good, but it does not leave much room for family—or religion.”

Benjamin says, “I had always thought that the right thing to do was to return from my mission, find someone I liked, then loved, and then, after having made a decision to marry and having received a witness from the Holy Ghost, get married. It seemed so simple to me, but suddenly everything had become confusing, dark, and difficult.”

Both Benjamin and Ane were concerned about the advice and opinions given by their friends. For a whole year they struggled to decide on the right time to get married. They knew that ultimately the most important guidance would come from the Lord, so they spent much time searching the scriptures and words of the prophets for talks about family, marriage, and education.

Benjamin never experienced a particular turning point in which he realized that marriage was the right decision at that time for him. Instead, he says, “I realized that I had to go back to the basics. Why was I here? What was my purpose on earth?”

As he searched the scriptures and the words of prophets and apostles, Benjamin turned to Heavenly Father in prayer. He also received priesthood blessings. “It became clear to me that I was sent to earth to return to God with my family,” he says. “There was no greater work or other task to supersede that. It’s in ‘The Family: A Proclamation to the World.’ If I knowingly disregarded this and did something else, I would be disobeying God’s commandments.

“Once it was revealed to me that what I had been taught all my life was so true that it had priority over others’ opinions, I felt enlightened. I decided to follow what I had been taught.”

Ane and Benjamin were married on July 16, 2009, in the Stockholm Sweden Temple. “When the day of our temple sealing arrived, I felt such peace,” Ane says. “It was all very simple. Beautiful. No worldly trappings. It felt so good to be with my parents and siblings in the temple—and with Benjamin. It was a time filled with true love.”

Benjamin agrees. “God has guided my life in such a way that I have been taught to put Him first,” he says. “For me, it wasn’t a choice between family or education; it was family first and education at the same time. Other decisions are the same. It isn’t God or nothing. It is God first; then everything else follows.”