Gospel Story Finder

You may feel that upward pull. I did one afternoon when I came to understand, as I hadn’t before, how much I need the Atonement, what I could do to make it work in my life, and what evidence I could have that it was working.
It was the hour of a devotional at BYU–Idaho. I wasn’t the speaker; I was sitting there, just behind and to the right of the speaker. I’ve still got the book that I held that day. It still has the words in the margins that I wrote then.
In my memory, the room that afternoon was almost as light as the sunshine and as warm. The speaker was Elder A. Theodore Tuttle. I suppose there was a spotlight on his face. Stages always seem light when you’re on them. But the brightness was in more than what I saw. It was inside me that day. I think it happened because I walked into that room with the yearning President McKay says will come to everyone. And for me that day it was irresistible; I was in the right place with the right preparation.
I will give you the few scriptures that have made the most difference—all the difference for me—in knowing how to reach for that something better you and I sometimes feel drawing us up.
The first is not in the margin but is from the 19th section of the Doctrine and Covenants. On the bottom, in capital letters, is written: REPENTANCE. And then an arrow leads to a notation that reads: “Greek word. To have a new mind.” I heard it that day with new meaning.
“Therefore I command you to repent—repent, lest I smite you by the rod of my mouth, and by my wrath, and by my anger, and your sufferings be sore—how sore you know not, how exquisite you know not, yea, how hard to bear you know not.
“For behold, I, God, have suffered these things for all, that they might not suffer if they would repent;
“But if they would not repent they must suffer even as I” (vv. 15–17).
As he read those words that day, I felt the overwhelming suffering of the Savior. And then two things dawned on me. First, if I could not repent to qualify for His Atonement for my sins, I must suffer to the limit of my power to suffer. And, second, with all the requisite suffering of my own, with all I could bear, it would still not be enough. I would still be forever shut out of the only place where there will be the warmth of family, the family of my Heavenly Father whom I have loved and whom I miss, and that of my family here. Somehow I had gotten the idea that the choice was between repenting or not. And then I realized that whatever pain repentance might bring in this life, it was certainly no more than the pain I would face if I did not repent here, and yet that later pain could not lift me home. It could not bring the mercy I needed.
A determination flowed into me both to stay as far as I could from sin and to gain a confidence that my sins were being remitted. In that moment, the penalty for taking chances with sin or with forgiveness loomed larger than I had ever imagined it could. I wanted with all my heart to know both that the Atonement was curing the effects of sin in me and that I was being strengthened against future sin. I wanted confidence whereas before I had been content with hope.
First, I have never forgotten the voice of Elder Tuttle after he read this description of suffering for sin from section 19 of the Doctrine and Covenants:
“Which suffering caused myself, even God, the greatest of all, to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body and spirit—and would that I might not drink the bitter cup, and shrink” (v. 18).
It was about there where I wrote these words: “Teach the people repentance hurts.” I bear you my testimony that you must never believe the lie that there is no pain from sin. You can be forgiven. The Atonement is real. True faith in the Atonement of Jesus Christ, rather than leading you to try a little sin, will lead you to stay as far away from it as you can.

Imagine in your mind May 1, 1890. A young man and a young lady in a little country town about 250 miles from the Logan Temple decided to be married. Highways—none. Fancy roads—none. Trails through the sagebrush and wagon trails—yes.
It probably would have taken six or seven days at least to make the journey. In May it rains in southern Idaho and in Utah. Imagine riding in a buggy with all of your clothes—taking something along, I guess for the horses, taking some food in little sacks of some kind. Fancy clothes, warm clothes—they had none. Sleeping bags—none. Coleman lanterns or cooking stoves—none. They would have had matches and had to find dry sagebrush to make a fire to cook their food.
Just imagine, just run it through your mind for a moment and think of the gratitude that I have and the blessings they brought into my life by traveling to a place to be married a long ways away. Inconvenience? That wouldn’t be a problem; they would do it. And think of what’s happened in the last few years with President Hinckley—the inspiration and direction he has had in the building of temples all over the world. And think of what people went through a few years ago.
Those blessings have come into my life from my parents and their parents and others who have affected my life—teachers and good people that I have been associated with.
When I was about 11 years old, a man came to our little town to teach at the Church academy. He played the violin a little, and we hadn’t had anyone there for a long time who had played the violin. My mother was impressed and picked up a little violin, I guess at some little rummage sale somewhere, and decided that I should learn to play the violin.
Even though I had never seen anyone play the violin in public, he came to our house and started giving me some little simple lessons on playing the violin. I was coming along fairly well by the time we graduated from the eighth grade in grammar school, and for the graduation exercises held in the high school I was asked to play a violin solo.
I’d carefully practiced the little number “Träumerei,” as I remember the name. My sister who was four years older than I and was then one of the popular girls in high school was my pianist. At the graduation exercises, Connie McMurray was the valedictorian. Girls are always smarter in school than boys. As she was giving the valedictory address, there was a little pedestal with a pitcher of water and a glass on it for the school board. The school board was on the stand, plus a little handful of us who were graduating from the eighth grade.
As Connie McMurray was giving her famous valedictory address, near the end of it we noticed the little doily under the pitcher of water on the pedestal was moving over a little bit towards the edge, and over it fell with the pitcher and glass of water! Connie McMurray fell in a dead faint.
In the scurrying around of cleaning the water off the stage and rearranging the chairs, they announced that we would now have the violin solo from David Haight. I walked over to the little old piano, and my sister came up from the audience. I took that little simple violin out of that wooden case as my sister sat down at the piano and sounded an A. I said, “Go ahead and play.”
She said, “David, you’d better tune it.”
I said, “No, no, I tuned it at our piano at home.” We had an old Kimball piano at home. You know, homes in those days—if you had a piano and books, that’s all you needed for the family. I had carefully tuned the strings by twisting those ebony pegs of that violin, but I didn’t know that all pianos weren’t the same. So as my sister said, “You’d better tune it,” I said, “No, no, it’s all tuned. I tuned it at home.”
So she went ahead and played the introduction, and then I came down on the first note. We were off about two notes.
As she slowed down, I said, “Keep playing,” because I couldn’t imagine anyone would take the time of a famous audience like I was playing to—you know, 100 people in that little high school auditorium. You wouldn’t hold up Carnegie Hall while you tuned your violin! That would be shop work. You would do that in the back room so that when you would start to play, why, you’d be all ready to play.
She slowed down. I said, “Keep playing.” We finished it, and she didn’t speak to me for days following that show.
I want to honor the little country town that I grew up in with my parents, where I was raised and where they were kind and good to me. I am thankful for the knowledge that I acquired from my loving parents.
I am grateful for my wife, Ruby, coming into my life, for our children, and then their children, and then their children, and the people who are part of my life today who influence my life. And I hope that I have some influence for good in their lives.
You remember the account of John the Baptist speaking to John the Beloved and to Andrew on the occasion when the Savior met them. And John the Baptist commented, “Behold the Lamb of God!” (John 1:36). And as the Savior met those young men—John the Baptist, John the Beloved, and Andrew—He said, “What seek ye?”
And in that conversation that’s reported, they said, “Where dwellest thou?” (John 1:38).
And the Savior said, “Come and see” (John 1:39).
They followed the Savior, and according to that brief account that we have, they stayed with Him until the 10th hour. They may have spent the evening together, but it is not known where He was staying or what accommodations He might have had.
John and Andrew were with the Savior for several hours. Just imagine being in His presence or being able to sit and look into His eyes or to hear Him explain who He was and why He had come to earth and to hear that inflection in His voice in describing what He would have told those young men. They would have shaken His hand. They would have felt of that precious, wonderful personality as they listened to Him.
And following that encounter, the account says that Andrew went to find his brother Simon because he had to share it with someone. As we meet in a great conference like this and talk about the gospel and talk about our responsibility and the opportunity we have, just imagine if that had happened to any of us, to have been in that divine, precious personality’s presence and to have listened to Him and to have shaken His hand and to have looked into His eyes and to have heard what He would say.
When Andrew found his brother Simon, he said to him, “We have found the [Messiah]” (John 1:41). He probably said: “We’ve been in His presence. We’ve felt of His personality. We know that what He is telling us is true.” Yes, Andrew had to share it with someone.
That is what we do in sharing what we know and what we understand. And I’m grateful for that knowledge I have that God lives, that He is our Father, and for the understanding that I have of our Heavenly Father and of His Son, Jesus the Christ, our Savior and the Redeemer of all of mankind.
I had a letter only a few days ago from a man in Edinburgh, Scotland. His name is George Stewart. He’ll be surprised at my mentioning this, but he wanted to thank me because when he was 15 years old (some 40 years ago), I was presiding over the mission in Scotland. He wanted to thank me for the missionaries’ coming to their home in Thornliebank, one of the areas of Glasgow. He had joined the Church along with his mother.
He said that as he developed a testimony of the Book of Mormon, as he started reading it and as he kept reading it, he couldn’t put it down because he knew it was true. He kept reading and reading and developing a testimony of the gospel as a young man. He told how he used to come over to the mission home and how we were kind to him and we would spend time with the young people because they were getting into Mutual, which we were starting in the branches.
Then he told of the blessings that had come into his life as a young man, that he had met his sweetheart in that little branch—his wife—and that they were married and that they had four children: a son who had finished a mission in the Washington D.C. Mission, a son who served in the England Leeds Mission, a daughter who was married in the temple, and one who is waiting for the return of a missionary. He voiced gratitude for all of the blessings that had come into his life and the lives of his sons who have been on missions and his daughters.
During the past 40 years, he has served as a bishop four times in four different units, and his wife has served as a Relief Society president on three occasions. He is currently serving as a counselor in the Edinburgh stake presidency. He said, “And I’m going to be retiring very shortly from the company I’m with. I’ve done very well, and we plan to go out on a mission together.”
Then he said these words to me: “This amazing Church has woven a pattern of miracles in our lives.” Let me say that again: “This amazing Church has woven a pattern of miracles in our lives.”
And he says the gospel came into his life, to his wife, to all of his children, and to their children. The grandchildren are active in the Church, and he and his wife now have a great desire to go out into the world when they retire from their profession.
When you think of the majesty and the impact and the spiritual direction of this work out in the world and that this work is meant to reach the people of the world, it is thrilling just to contemplate what lies before us.
There was a Brother and Sister Andrus from Walnut Creek, California, who had served four missions, and then they were called to go to Zimbabwe and assigned to the district in Bulawayo in Zimbabwe. This was their fifth mission.
As they told of the marvelous things that they were able to do in reactivating people, she told a story of how there was a little portable electronic organ in the chapel and how she started showing some of the boys and girls in Bulawayo how to play the organ. There was also a little piano keyboard in another room, and she would have a class where the organ was and another one where this little keyboard was. She would teach these children to play the organ after school. They said they started a temple preparation class in the reactivation process, and before they left they were able to put 28 people on the bus to go from Bulawayo all the way to Johannesburg to the temple, 650 miles away—two days and one night. They said, “We’ve talked about how we are in our late 70s now—these two old people wandering around in Africa having the greatest period of our lives, the greatest excitement we could have.”
Think of Dr. Alan Barker, who had retired from the Salt Lake Clinic, a wonderful cardiologist here in Salt Lake, who, together with his wife, accepted a mission call to the Philippines. While there, they accomplished a marvelous work in helping correct a serious disease problem. He was there long enough to help find a solution to the problem and obtain the needed medical equipment and medication.
These are examples of the marvelous service being given by senior missionary couples in various parts of the world.
I leave you my love, my witness, my testimony that God lives, that this work is true. You can’t find the word retirement in the Bible. I don’t think you can find the word in the Bible Dictionary. Isn’t it interesting to think what can happen in our lives today and what possibilities lie ahead for us if we believe and understand and have a commitment and a dedication to live the principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ and to bless the lives of people?
May you be so blessed. May you have a burning feeling in your heart. May you feel as I do on this day that this work is true and that it is meant for us to help bring about the eternal plan of salvation and exaltation. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Over spring break, I got to talk with my sister who is serving her mission in the Idaho Idaho Falls Mission. I told her that track was about to start and how excited I was. I told her how badly I wanted to beat the school record for the 1600-meter and 800-meter races.
“I probably won’t be able to. The record time is pretty fast,” I told my sister. The school record did seem impossible. I started thinking about the one girl I had never been able to beat. Maybe trying to keep up with her or even beating her would be a better goal.
My sister did not answer right away, but she seemed to be smiling through the phone. “I know I’m a missionary,” she said. “So you might expect me to give you some kind of a challenge, but I really want you to try something. I want you to try to read your scriptures and pray every day. And if you do, God will bless you to do your best.”
“I’ll try,” I said. I had not really been reading my scriptures every night, and I wasn’t quite sure if, or how, reading would help me run.
The next few nights I read, prayed, and went to bed without really thinking about it. One night as I was brushing my teeth, I thought, “I’m not really getting anything out of reading the scriptures.” Then I remembered President Russell M. Nelson’s invitation to read the whole Book of Mormon and mark all references to Jesus Christ (see “Sisters’ Participation in the Gathering of Israel,” Oct. 2018 general conference [Ensign or Liahona, Nov. 2018, 69–70]). So I started to mark the references to Christ as I read. I began to get more out of reading and to truly ponder the scriptures.
After 15 consecutive days of reading and praying every night, I had my first track meet. And I was super nervous. My first race was the 4x800-meter run. I was the anchor runner. When I started running the last leg, my team was in 7th place out of 10 teams. We finished in 3rd place. Had I gotten faster?
While I was waiting for the mile, I watched all the other races and prayed that I would do well. When we walked to the starting line, my heart was beating so fast I thought it would jump out of my chest. I prayed again and felt peace. We were all lined up, and I had a flashback from all the mile races I had run in the year before. I would be in first place the whole race, unsure if my pace was fast enough to beat the record. Then on the final stretch, I would get discouraged when a certain girl from another school would sprint ahead of me and take first place. So I decided to try to do that myself this time.
As the gun went off, I went straight behind the girl from the year before. We were in first and second place. My coach was at the 200-meter mark, and she told me my time and encouraged me. I wanted to run up ahead, but I knew that she would pass me on the last stretch if I did. She kept looking back at me like she was afraid of me.
On the last lap, I could hear the girl who was in third place trying to pass both of us. So I bolted. I ran as fast as I could. There were so many people cheering—my parents, teammates, and friends’ parents.
When I passed the finish line, the first thing that came to my mind was, “Did I do it?” Then I turned and saw everyone else finish. Then I looked toward the girl I hadn’t been able to beat before. Her eyes were big when she said, “Man, you got so much faster.” I had won!
I was so happy. I couldn’t believe I had actually done it! Then I realized that I hadn’t done it alone. I said a quick prayer to thank Heavenly Father. Taking my sister’s challenge helped me to be better at studying the scriptures. And I had a better relationship with Heavenly Father. I had also been able to get faster and smarter about my running. Heavenly Father listens to our prayers. And if we do our part and have faith, He will answer them.
The author lives in Missouri, USA.

“Mom, are you sure these seeds are going to grow?” Jason asked his mother, who was kneading a big lump of bread dough. She nodded her head.
He was still looking into a little pot where he had planted some green bean seeds, but all he could see was dirt. He wanted to put his finger in the dirt so he could feel or see if the seeds were sprouting, but he knew he shouldn’t do that. His mother had told him that seeds were damaged easily and needed tender care to grow.
“But are you really sure they’ll grow?” he asked again.
Mom stopped kneading and thought for a minute. “Jason, do you remember when we talked about faith during family home evening? We decided that one kind of faith is knowing something is there even though we can’t see it. Well, knowing that those seeds are sprouting is something like that. We can’t see them growing but we know that they are slowly getting bigger and bigger. And if we wait long enough, then we’ll see long, skinny green plants. And eventually we’ll be able to have green beans for dinner.”
“Do you think I’ll ever have any faith?”
“Of course. When you’re in the house and you decide to go outside, you know the sun will be up in the sky when you get there, don’t you?”
“Sure. Even if it’s raining, the sun is just hidden behind some clouds.”
“And you know your daddy loves you, even when he’s gone to work?”
“That’s right!”
“And when he comes home, you know he’ll be so happy to see you, that if you run up to him, he’ll give you a big hug?”
“He always does that,” said Jason, who was still trying to figure out what his mother meant.
“Well, all those things show that you have faith.”
Jason wanted to talk some more about faith, but the telephone rang and his friend, Dustin, invited him to come over to play.
Dustin had a new set of big yellow trucks. Since one of them could hold a whole bucket of sand, Jason and Dustin decided to build a big castle in Dustin’s sandbox. They wanted their castle to have lots of towers and windows and high walls.
The boys moved a big mound of sand to the middle of the sandbox. Then they poured a little water from the hose on it and dug their hands in. They wiggled their fingers. The warm sand mixed with the cool water felt good. Then they began packing sand into Dustin’s bucket, and turning it upside down to make six tall towers. They built a long drawbridge and put towers at each end.
When they were finished, they sat on the edge of the sandbox and smiled at each other.
“Pretty good, don’t you think?” asked Dustin.
“It’s the biggest one we’ve ever made,” answered Jason. “I want to see what it looks like from the top.”
He stepped up and stood on the edge of the sandbox. It wasn’t a high edge, but it was narrow. He started to sway, and reached for something to steady himself. He grabbed and grabbed again and then fell. His chin hit the sharp edge of one of the truck beds, and he felt something sting.
“Your chin’s bleeding!” Dustin cried, and he ran into his house.
Jason sat very still. It really hurt! After a minute, he saw Dustin and his mother come running from the house.
“Oh, Jason!” cried Dustin’s mother. “Let me help you.” She reached down and took him by the hand to help him stand up. “Let’s go in and wash that off. Does it hurt very much?”
Jason nodded his head. He didn’t want to talk, because he thought he might cry. He walked into the house with Dustin and his mother. Dustin’s mother wet a washcloth with cold water, and pressed it gently against Jason’s chin to help reduce the sting.
After she held the cloth there for about a minute, she took it away and looked at the chin again. “That looks a little better. Shall I call your more and have her come and get you?”
Jason nodded again. He still didn’t know if he could talk without crying. He heard Dustin’s mother tell his mother on the phone to come over. He felt good when he thought about her coming to get him. He knew she would come as fast as she could.
Then Jason remembered what she had said to him that morning—“Faith is knowing something is there, even though you can’t see it.” He knew his mother would come and get him, even though he couldn’t see her leave the house. Jason knew she would take care of his chin so it would get better. Thinking about those things, Jason realized that he did have faith and that he felt loved and safe—so safe that he fell fast asleep on Dustin’s bed.

Did you like that Friend magazine I gave you?
Yeah. My dad liked it too, but he just lost his job, so we don’t have money for things like magazines …
Dad, I know we don’t have a lot of money this year because we had to move, but can we get Audrey a Friend subscription for Christmas? You could take it out of whatever you were going to get me.
In fact, I really don’t need much. Could we just give Audrey’s family most of what you would have spent on me? Without letting them know who it was?
I guess so, if you’re sure that’s what you want.
I was really hoping for that cool new scooter. She’s Mandy’s friend, not mine. In fact, she acts like I don’t exist.
But Mandy looked really happy when she told Dad what she wanted to do.
Dad, I heard what Mandy was saying. Would you do the same thing with my Christmas presents? But don’t tell Mandy. I mean, I don’t want her to think I like her friends.
You know what I mean.
You’re never going to guess what those two kids of ours just did.
Uh oh! Do I want to hear this?
Oh, trust me. You do.

I want to share my testimony about prayer. When I was around thirteen years old back in Brazil, on a Sunday morning I went to church and went to my Sunday School class. My Sunday School teacher invited us to pray for 30 minutes that day. When he made that invitation, at first I thought, "Oh, we don't need to be timing, counting the minutes of our prayers. The prayers, it doesn't matter if it's five or twenty minutes; it needs to be made with our heart." But at the same moment, I had a big, a huge desire to accept his invitation.
So I went back home, and later in the afternoon that Sunday, I decided to go to my room, close the door, look at the clock, and then get on my knees and start to pray. Since I had a long time to pray, I started first by saying to Heavenly Father all the things that I was grateful for. Then I started to talk to Heavenly Father about my feelings, my desires, my fears, and who I want to become.
I felt during that prayer that my prayer made it to heaven. It was the first time in my life that I felt that. While the Spirit was so strong, after I finished my prayer, I looked at the clock and saw that I went over thirty minutes. After that day, I never again counted the minutes of my prayers, but I knew after that day, and I know, that our prayers can make it to heaven.

I was with President Kimball when I saw the mantle of presidency fall upon him the day after Christmas 1973. I had taken President Harold B. Lee to the hospital in Salt Lake the afternoon of December 26 because he was tired and the doctor thought he ought to get a rest and have a checkup. His family had gone home for a brief period, and I was alone with him in the room when he began to have difficulties. Within seconds I called a nurse and then a doctor, and immediately the alarm was sounded—“cardiac arrest.”
A team of doctors and nurses with sophisticated equipment began an heroic hour-long struggle in an effort to save his life. As I watched, I became convinced that unless the Lord did indeed work a miracle, President Lee could not live. I at once called President Romney and then reached President Tanner in Phoenix and got in touch with President Lee’s wife and family. Again convinced that unless the Lord took a hand there would be a change in the leadership of the Church, I felt that the next President of the Church should be present.
I immediately went to the phone and called President Kimball, and when he heard my voice, he responded in his usual cheerful manner, “Well, Arthur, how are you tonight?” I said, “Not very well. I am at the hospital with President Lee, and he is very ill. I think you should come at once.” He said, “I’ll be right there,” and I hung up. As I did so, I was conscious of the fact that I had not even told President Kimball which hospital we were at. Nevertheless, he was the first to arrive. Then President Romney came, and then President Lee’s wife and family.
It was on this sad occasion that I learned a great and fundamental lesson in priesthood and Church government. As you know, President Romney was a member of the First Presidency, while President Kimball was the President of the Quorum of the Twelve. As soon as President Romney arrived, President Kimball turned to him and said, “President Romney, what would you like me to do?” At the moment there seemed little that any of us could do, except pray and wait. A short time later, the doctor came and gave us the awful news that President Lee was dead. Quietly, President Romney, knowing that the First Presidency was now dissolved at that precise moment and that the mantle had fallen upon President Kimball, turned to him and said, “President Kimball, what would you like me to do?”
In a recent conference President Kimball said: “We believe that we have in this Church the answers to all questions, for the Lord is the head of the Church, and He has given us the program. Our message is what it has always been, and our hope is that our people will live the commandments of the Lord. They have been revealed in the holy scriptures and by living prophets throughout many years.”
No, President Kimball is not an ordinary man. He is a Prophet of the Lord.

I learned the importance of this early in my career. After finishing my education at Stanford Law School, I sought employment at a particular law firm. No members of the Church were associated with the firm, but the firm was made up of lawyers of character and ability. After a morning of interviews, the senior partner and two other partners invited me to lunch. The senior partner inquired if I would like a prelunch alcoholic drink and later if I would like wine. In both cases, I declined. The second time, I informed him that I was an active Latter-day Saint and did not drink alcoholic beverages.
I received an offer of employment from the firm. A few months later, the senior partner told me the offer of the alcoholic beverages was a test. He noted that my résumé made it clear that I had served an LDS mission. He had determined that he would hire me only if I was true to the teachings of my own church. He considered it a significant matter of character and integrity.

Take the month’s Young Women–Young Men combined activity, for example. The activity is a special-needs night. They are going to learn what it’s like to be restricted to a wheelchair or find out how handicapped accessible their building is. They are also going to have someone give demonstrations on how it feels to be blind or deaf. But this isn’t just a nice activity. The youth are learning what some of their own ward members are going through. The mother of two of the young men is confined to a wheelchair. It would help if some of their friends knew what they could do to help her on occasion. The other youth of the ward need to learn in what ways she struggles.
One young woman’s grandfather is blind. She will demonstrate how to be an effective guide. Another ward member is hearing impaired. A young woman is planning to demonstrate some of the things that restrict this sister because of her deafness. The activity is a good one, but it is even better because it meets the needs of several of the youth and ward members.
In youth council, the group in charge has divided the work for the activity night into six assignments. One group quickly volunteers to round up some wheelchairs. Another offers to bring refreshments. Another offers to do the publicity. Soon the last assignment, cleanup, needs to be made. Again, it goes to the deacons. Everyone starts to laugh. The deacons haven’t learned how to speak up quickly enough on assignments and usually wait too long and get stuck with cleanup. But they are good-natured about it. It’s a job they know how to do well.

“Sunday dinner was a highlight of the week. After our church meetings, we children took turns making homemade ice cream, setting the table, and helping Mother. It was not, however, the delicious food that we liked most but the opportunity we had at an early age to feast upon Father’s, as well as Mother’s, spirituality. He told stories of his childhood, such as how he herded sheep as a boy of seven and how he became an expert horseman. And he told stories about his mission to Germany and how he learned to love the German people. Then, because of World War I, he was reassigned and finished his mission in Missouri, where he worked with Elder Spencer W. Kimball to build a meetinghouse.
“Dinnertime at home was what you would call an ideal family home evening. Personal stories shared there helped build beautiful relationships. The gospel was taught to us and so was a love for our Church leaders. When Father prayed, you knew he was talking to God.”

It happened in the aftermath of a disaster. A dam in Idaho broke on a June day. A wall of water struck the communities below it. Thousands of people, mostly Latter-day Saints, fled their homes to go to safety.
I was there as the people faced the terrible task of recovery. I saw the stake president gather his bishops to lead the people. We were cut off in those first days from any supervision from outside. I was in the meeting of local leaders when a director from the federal disaster agency arrived.
He tried to take over the meeting. With great force he began to list the things that he said needed to be done. As he read aloud each item, the stake president, who was sitting near him, said quietly, “We’ve already done that.” After that went on for five or ten minutes, the federal official grew silent and sat down. He listened quietly as the stake president took reports from the bishops and gave directions.
For the meeting the next day, the federal disaster official arrived early. He sat toward the back. The stake president began the meeting. He took more reports, and he gave instructions. After a few minutes, the federal official, who had come with all the authority and resources of his great agency, said, “President Ricks, what would you like us to do?”
He recognized power. I saw more. I recognized the evidence of keys and the faith that unlocks their power.

These intrepid pioneers were waiting for apostolic direction on how and when they would be heading further west. Everyone’s plans were altered when Brigham Young, the President of the Quorum of the Twelve, issued a call for men to volunteer to serve in the United States Army in what came to be known as the Mormon Battalion.

Robert Harris Jr. was one of over 500 Mormon pioneer men who responded to that call from Brigham Young. He enlisted, even though it meant he would leave behind his pregnant wife and six little children.

Why would he and the other men do such a thing?

The answer can be given in my great-great-grandfather’s own words. In a letter that he wrote to his wife when the battalion was on its way to Santa Fe, he wrote, “My faith is so strong as ever [and when I think of the things that Brigham Young told us], I believe it about the same as if the Great God had told me.”

In short, he knew he was listening to a prophet of God, as did the other men. That is why they did it! They knew they were led by a prophet of God.

In that same letter, he expressed his tender feelings for his wife and children and told of his constant prayers that she and the children would be blessed.

Later in the letter, he made this powerful statement: “We must not forget the things which you and I heard and [experienced] in the Temple of the Lord.”

Combined with his earlier testimony that “we are led by a Prophet of God,” these two sacred admonitions have become like scripture to me.

Eighteen months after departing with the battalion, Robert Harris was safely reunited with his beloved Maria. They stayed true and faithful to the restored gospel throughout their lives. They had 15 children, 13 of whom lived to maturity. My grandmother Fannye Walker, of Raymond, Alberta, Canada, was one of their 136 grandchildren.

One day, while looking for a place to run, I decided to try the parking lot of a church in my neighborhood. I liked it because it was lighted and paved. I found that running 10 to 15 times around the building would complete my three-mile (4.8 km) workout.
My runs in the parking lot continued, off and on, for three years. From time to time, I would see people in the parking lot because I would sometimes run during Church services and other activities.
Several times, I had the impression that I needed to talk with someone about the Church, but I had no idea how to do it. On my way home from work one evening, I decided to stop by and see if I could find someone there. When I walked into the church building, I found the missionaries as they were finishing interviews with their mission president. I introduced myself and we sat down in the foyer. That was where they taught me my first gospel lesson.
Over the next couple of weeks, I continued meeting with the missionaries. When I attended sacrament meeting, the members of the ward showed me love, acceptance, fellowship, and encouragement. As I thought about what I was learning, I realized that my curiosity about the Church had developed into the need for me to decide to be baptized. I felt I was being prompted by the Spirit to do what my Heavenly Father wanted me to do, but I continued to wrestle with the decision. Finally, I was baptized in November 2001, at the age of 36.
My decision to run in the church parking lot seemed unremarkable at the time. But it led to my greatest blessings: my membership in the Church; meeting my wonderful wife, Jennefer; and being sealed to her for time and eternity in the San Diego California Temple.
So, if you happen to see someone exercising in the parking lot of your meetinghouse, introduce yourself! You never know—he or she may soon become the newest member of your ward!

Their work is sometimes closer to home—literally. Elder Bednar was repairing the roof on his home one day and went to a local store to purchase some supplies. He was wearing work clothes: casual pants and shoes, a T-shirt, and a baseball hat.
“A man approached me as I was selecting my supplies and said, ‘Elder Bednar, the disguise is not working.’ We laughed, and then he inquired, ‘Do you mind if I ask you a question?’
“I responded, ‘Well, that is why I am here.’
“He replied quizzically, ‘What do you mean?’
“I said, ‘… I am here because God knew we were going to meet each other in this store and that you had something about which you wanted to ask. Please go ahead and share with me your question.’
“We talked in the aisle for about 15 minutes, and I tried to help him find the answer to his question. Was it merely a coincidence that I encountered this good man at the local store? Or was this episode divinely orchestrated by a loving Savior who … responded to the concerns of a faithful man—a one?
“I believe that in the work of the Lord there is no such thing as a coincidence. The worth of souls is great in the sight of God.”

With sweat pouring down his face, Australian rugby star William Hopoate keeps his eye on the ball. His team, the Blues, representing New South Wales, is facing their rival, the Maroons from Queensland, in the biggest match of the year. After the first 20 minutes, Will’s team is behind and has to catch up quickly. Will has a lot to prove because this is his first match with the team. He is also the youngest player on his team and the second-youngest player ever to play in the State of Origin series.
Will watches as the ball is passed to his teammate and then thrown toward him. He jumps up to catch it. Caught! With the ball in hand, Will sprints toward the goal line. With the defense right beside him, he hurtles down the field. Just a few more yards. At the very edge of the field, between landing the goal and going out of bounds, Will is nearly out of time. He pushes himself forward, leaps toward the goal with faith, and slams the ball on the ground. Everyone pauses for a moment. Did he make it? Then he hears the audience erupt into cheers!
When Will was 4 years old, his parents enrolled him in the local rugby club. That may seem young, but even then Will loved “footy” (slang for “rugby”). By the time Will was 12, rugby had become more than a game for him and he was chosen to play on a junior league team. By age 16 he was playing for a junior professional league team.
In Australia, when players turn 20, they are old enough to play professionally in an adult league. Even when Will was 18, offers came in left and right. He was a prime recruit. One team offered him a contract worth 1.5 million Australian dollars—an offer not made often to players his age. But that wasn’t what Will saw in his immediate future. Will had decided to serve a mission.
When Will had to announce whether he was going to serve a mission or accept a rugby league contract, the decision was easy for him. “I set a mission in my mind and heart while I was in my youth, and I promised myself that I wouldn’t let the worldly desires take over me,” he said.
The world may ask, What about the money? the contracts? getting to play rugby professionally—his lifelong dream? How would his life have been different had he accepted a professional contract? “It would have helped out my family financially. It would have set my future as well for the next few years,” he admitted.
So why didn’t he accept the offer? “A mission is something the Lord requires of me, of young males in the Church,” he said. “It’s a way to say thanks to the Lord for everything He has done for me in my 19 years here on earth. And at the end of the day, I don’t think I would have been as happy if I had stayed. I made the choice to serve a mission because footy will always be there.”
Will’s announcement confused and shocked many. In speaking of his nonmember friends, he said, “They don’t understand the real reason I’m going; they just see me walking away from the game for two years.” Will told them, “I’m teaching people about Jesus Christ and serving others. It’s something that I want to do.” After hearing Will’s explanation, his friends became more supportive.
Will recognized that just wanting to serve a mission wasn’t enough. He knew it was important to prepare. One thing he did was go to teaching appointments with the full-time missionaries. “When the missionaries asked me to respond to questions, words seemed to come that I didn’t know could help the investigator understand a bit more,” he said. “And a few of the investigators they were teaching—whom I helped teach—have recently been baptized. It’s been a blessing for me to see that.”
Will is now serving in the Australia Brisbane Mission, but he didn’t leave rugby behind entirely. Even though he is not able to play, he serves as a missionary with the same fervor he has for rugby. Before his mission he said, “The same passion and motivation is there in playing rugby and serving the Lord. In sports you’ve got to work hard to find success. You can relate that to missionary work because I am working hard trying to find people who want to hear the gospel.”
Whenever a sports star leaves the scene for any amount of time, and especially for two years, people wonder, what will happen when he comes back? Will knows that by serving a mission, he could be giving up a lot, but he also knows he’s giving it up for something better. “I think it’s a great sacrifice, but it’s one that I’m willing to make,” he says. “Anything can happen, and two years is a fair break from the sport. Personally, I would like to come back and play footy.”
Even though playing rugby professionally has been his lifelong dream, Will recognizes the eternal blessings that come from serving a mission. “In rugby league, there’s always joy in winning and scoring, but that joy only lasts a few weeks or a few days. You can only cherish it for so long,” he explained. “Whereas a friend or investigators coming into the Church and seeing that the gospel can bless their lives forever can put a smile on your face forever.”

Susan Wells remembered Christmas two years later in Salt Lake in December 1849, when there was a more formal party:
I well remember Brother Brigham’s [Christmas] party [of 1849]. Like the girls of today, on receiving my invitation the first thought was “nothing to wear.” This was literally true, as all our clothing was shabby and patched. Necessity is the mother of invention, so, after careful consideration, the wagon cover, that had done such faithful service in our journey across the plains, was brought out. We couldn’t afford canvas [for our wagon cover, so] our cover consisted of several thicknesses of unbleached factory [cloth]. This was carefully dyed and as good luck would have it, it turned out a very pretty brown. We made this into dresses for myself and sister, trimmed with silk from an old cape of mother’s. This cape, black, lined with light brown, not only furnished trimming for our dresses, but I made poke bonnets from the black with quilled lining of the light brown. I had embroidered buckskin moccasins . . . , but I believe for this occasion father, who was a shoemaker, made me a pair of slippers from his old boot legs. I tell you my first ball dress was stunning.

I am indeed grateful that I was given the unique and distinctive opportunity to attend this institution many years ago and for the positive effect it has had on my life. I came to BYU–Hawaii when I was 17, an inexperienced freshman from Apia, Samoa, very timid and shy. I lived in Hale 3 when the apartment spaces consisted of 8 small rooms with a separating curtain in what was then referred to as a “unit.” In our unit were three Samoans, one Japanese, two Canadians, one Mainlander, and one Hawaiian. While school was in session, the school and dorms were packed with students. During the summer and winter holidays, the locals and mainland students went home. Those of us from Samoa, Tonga, New Zealand, Australia, Philippines, Asia and basically from the entire Pacific Rim, remained on campus. Even though there were no classes, we worked full-time to earn money to pay for our student loans. Each payday, we went to the business office to endorse our paychecks and receive money for tithing and personal spending. On one occasion as we stood in line, the lady at the window handed a student his paycheck to sign and return. We were all shocked when he ran off with it. She tried calling him back, but he had disappeared very quickly. It was humorous at the time, but I have since felt empathy for that student. There would have been numerous reasons why he desperately needed that money.

Eating in the cafeteria was a luxury during the summer so in order to reduce spending, we opted to provide our own meals. There was no grocery store in Laie so this developed our talents to become very creative. I remember sharing a pack of hot dogs someone gave us and a roommate showing us how to grill each dog on a hot iron. Sometimes we went into the mountains looking for mangoes, papaya and bananas. One of our roommates found an old electric frying pan to cook with. It was the first time I learned to cut up and fry green papaya to make stir fry with a can of fish. Another roommate worked at the PCC diner. When tourists left uneaten food on their plates, she would bring it home for all of us to enjoy. Our dorm parent was Bella Stokoe. On occasion she would make a large pot of Koko rice and feed us when we arrived home from work. On the weekends, there was no food to eat. We became more creative. We walked down the streets of Laie and began knocking on doors. One of us would stand at the opened doors and say, "We are hungry. Do you have any food to spare?" Sometimes the answer was "sorry we don't."

We were fortunate when people like Sister Valu Ta’ilele, Sister Ta’aloga Stone, Sister Eka Aumua, Sister Ann Rivers and Sister Malia Leiataua would recognize us and hand us food or invite us in. I am grateful and will never forget these mothers who loved us, who had hearts of gold to give and fed us “at such a time as this.” Their acts of kindness have had a great effect on my life forever. It has taught me to do things for people NOT because of who they are or what they do for you in return, but because of who I am. It has taught me to simply reach out and LOVE without expectation.

It might be said that the idea of BYU began with a boom.
On April 5, 1876, the day before general conference, three gunpowder reserves in Salt Lake City ignited. The ensuing explosion sent rocks and rubble across the city. The blast was felt as far north as Farmington, Utah, and numerous homes and buildings sustained damage—including the Twentieth Ward schoolhouse. A newspaper report at the time read:
The walls [of the schoolhouse] are cracked and the roof broken. The building will have to be greatly repaired before it can be considered safe.1
The Twentieth Ward schoolhouse’s principal happened to be none other than Karl G. Maeser. After assessing the damage to the school, Brother Maeser went looking for his bishop, John Sharp. He found Bishop Sharp in counsel with President Brigham Young. Brother Maeser reported to both men on the schoolhouse’s damage, but it became clear the prophet’s thoughts were elsewhere.
“Brother Maeser,” President Young interjected, “I have another mission for you.” He was “considering the establishment of a Church school” and was searching for the right person to lead it. The prophet then declared: “You are the man, Brother Maeser. We want you to go to Provo to organize and conduct an Academy to be established in the name of the Church—a Church school.”2
By month’s end, Brother Maeser was headed to Provo. It was then that President Young offered up his famous charge “not to teach even the alphabet or the multiplication tables without the Spirit of God.”3
...
Let me return to Brother Maeser and President Young. One night, not too long after taking the helm of Brigham Young Academy and shortly after the passing of President Young, Maeser had a vision within a dream.
He found himself “entering a spacious hallway with open doors leading into many rooms, and [he] saw President Brigham Young . . . beckoning [him] to follow.” Among other rooms, he saw an “upper story . . . and a large assembly hall.” He awoke “deeply impressed” and immediately “drew up the plan” for a building based on what he saw. He then “stowed it away without any apparent purpose” or understanding of how to interpret the dream.40
Six years later, in January 1884, the original academy building burned to the ground. This “calamity,” Maeser said, brought back to “remembrance” his dream. He found the paper with the plans he had stowed away six years earlier. With the aid of Brigham Young’s son, an architect, Maeser’s dream provided the first concepts of what would become the iconic Brigham Young Academy building, which today serves as the Provo City Library.41

I had never failed a class until Popularity 101. I didn’t know such a class existed or that I was even enrolled until the grades started coming in: kind of nerdy, jokes aren’t funny, uncoordinated, goofy hair, and so on.
The problem with this class is that there’s no teacher, there’s no textbook or study material, and the grading is based entirely on the opinions of your peers. In the beginning I didn’t even know what popularity was. All I knew was others had it; I did not.
The grading got tougher at age 13, when I began junior high school. Apparently, there wasn’t anything cool about me. I was becoming desperate. I was ready to do anything to be accepted. In my math class, I saw popular kids cheating on homework. Everyone was doing it. It seemed a small price to pay to be part of the group.
“Are you cheating?” asked Curtis, the student next to me.
“No,” I lied, amazed at how easily one dishonesty followed another.
I realized two things at that moment. First, “everyone’s doing it” is a poor excuse. What I was doing was wrong no matter who was doing it. Second, not “everyone’s doing it.” Curtis wasn’t cheating, and he had lots of friends.
I started watching Curtis. I tried sitting next to him when we had classes together. He didn’t swear; he didn’t cheat; he didn’t lie; he didn’t make fun of other people. This guy was straight out of the For the Strength of Youth pamphlet. I wanted to be just like him.
Then one day something amazing happened.
It was lunchtime, the worst part of the day. “Cafeteria” was just another name for “Popularity Exam Room.” As I was once again faced with choosing to sit alone or to sit with people who challenged my standards, Curtis invited me to sit with him. His friends accepted me.
I’m convinced that single act saved me. While many of those I could have hung around with passed Popularity 101, many of them are in danger of failing life—having chosen paths that led them into serious problems such as addictions to tobacco, drugs, or pornography.
Through Curtis, I learned I could have fun and keep high standards. I learned that doing what’s right is cool. And I learned a secret about popularity—it’s Satan’s counterfeit for true friendship.
There’s nothing wrong with having friends; what’s important is how we go about gaining them. Popularity 101 (the world’s way) teaches to focus on yourself and what you have to do to be accepted by others—whether it’s swearing, drinking, smoking, or in my case cheating. True friendship (the Lord’s way) teaches to focus on others, to lift them so they feel accepted by you. This is accomplished through love, kindness, sincerity, and, like Curtis, having the Spirit so others feel comfortable around you.
Curtis and his friends weren’t enrolled in Popularity 101; they were enrolled in Living the Gospel. This class has all sorts of helpful textbooks—the scriptures, Church magazines, For the Strength of Youth. Classes are offered at general conference, in seminary, and every Sunday at church. There’s a tutor who will work with you anytime—the Holy Ghost. Best of all, this class is graded by a loving Savior.
I still flunked Popularity 101. But thanks to some guys who had learned to love others as themselves, I’m now studying with the Master Teacher so I can pass life.

I had been tidying my house, but I couldn’t even vacuum the floors and dust my furniture, because I had so much clutter laying around. God’s house is a house of order (D&C 132:8), and I needed to make mine that way too. A wonderful thing happened to me in the process of tidying my house – I found some “hidden” treasures. Most of us are familiar with the story in the New Testament about looking for a lost coin (Luke 15:8-10). Today, I was looking for my original birth certificate that I needed for applying for a free bus pass.
In the process of looking I found lots of other surprises, but unfortunately, I couldn’t find my birth certificate. I knew that I had originally put it into the top drawer of my filing cabinet in a light brown money belt; but I couldn’t find it anywhere. Then I looked through all the other file cabinet drawers, to no avail. The other drawers were filled with old bank statements, car repair bills, pay-cheques, house and car insurance documents, etc., but there was no birth certificate to be found anywhere.
Finally, after spending an hour searching, I prayed for help from Heavenly Father to find the lost document. I felt (through the Holy Ghost) that my birth certificate was indeed in the top drawer of my filing cabinet. So, I went back to the drawer and looked through all the piles of papers again. Imagine my surprise when I got down to the very bottom of the drawer and found my birth certificate in a blue pouch. That was when I remembered that I had changed where I stored my birth certificate about two years ago. I’m so glad that the Holy Ghost remembered where my birth certificate was.
But the story doesn’t end there. While delving into the bottom of my filing cabinet drawers, I also found 3 crisp, new, £20 notes, which were sitting among a pile of credit card receipts. Once I found the money, I remembered that I had put them there for safekeeping about a year ago. It was a lovely surprise to find them today. Yesterday I also found some money unexpectedly, as I was cleaning out my handbag. I found a small wallet that I hadn’t used for about two years and when I opened it, I found two £10 notes inside!
I also looked in my filing cabinet for my cheque book, because I wanted to attend tithing settlement on Sunday. I needed to write out a cheque for some extra tithing that I owed. I couldn’t remember the last time that I wrote a cheque for anything, so I had no idea where my cheque book was. When I eventually found it, I looked at the cheque stubs and saw that the last cheque that I had written was four years ago. It’s no wonder that the banks want to “phase” cheques out, because very few people use them anymore. The only thing that I used a cheque for in the past was to pay my tithing every month. Now that I pay my tithing using a standing order from my bank, I have no need to use cheques anymore. Once I had found my cheque book, I wrote out a cheque for the outstanding tithing that I owed this year and put it into my handbag.
On the way home from submitting my bus pass application, I thought to myself: “I should stop and say hello to Jan and Steve.” I hadn’t seen these friends for about two years because they had moved to a new house. Once I found the house, I knocked on the door and Jan opened it. She was in the middle of vacuuming and cleaning when I arrived unannounced and she was standing beside an ottoman in the kitchen. As we talked she said, “We have been in a big mess for a year, but we are finally getting things the way we want them now. I’m getting rid of this ottoman, would you like it?”
"Yes please," I replied.
What Jan didn’t know, was that I had been looking for an ottoman like this for about six months. I had even gone into three charity shops that day, looking for such an item, but I couldn’t find one. But the Holy Ghost knew exactly where a used ottoman was, and he prompted me to go to Jan’s new house, because that was the day that she was throwing one away.
Isn’t Heavenly Father kind to us? On the day that I wrote out a cheque for extra tithing, I found money and was given furniture equal to the exact amount that I had written out my tithing cheque for. I had read about these types of stories in the Ensign before, but it had never happened to me, until that day.