Gospel Story Finder

Last Spring term, one student walked into my office with tears in her eyes and told me that she had come directly from the testing center because she had failed the exam. She said she had spent many hours studying for the class and did not believe she could have done so poorly on the test. I sat her down and helped her identify what the problems were. I offered her some suggestions and invited her to study harder. Still in tears, she told me that she may need someone to study with but did not know many people because she was new to this campus. I told her she could come and study using the table by my office and ask me questions if needed.

Throughout the term, she came and studied diligently at the table and did not really need any extra help from me. At the end, she passed the course with a grade good enough to major in accounting. When she took an upper level accounting class from me in the Fall, she learned to study in the accounting lab with her classmates and ask tutors for help. Before the end of winter semester, she received a job offer from one of the biggest international accounting firms.

At a critical moment in the battle of Waterloo, when everything depended on the steadiness of the soldiery, an anxious courier dashed into the presence of the Duke of Wellington, announcing that unless the troops were immediately relieved or withdrawn, they must yield before the impending assault of the French army. The Duke replied, “Stand firm!”
“But we shall perish!” remonstrated the officer.
“Stand firm!” again was the answer of the ironhearted Duke.
“You’ll find us there!” rejoined the courier, as he galloped away.
And, of course, the British were victorious that day as a result of such loyalty and determination (see Walter Baxendale, ed., Dictionary of Anecdote, Incident, Illustrative Fact, New York: Thomas Whittaker, 1889, p. 225).

Jordan hadn’t seen his sister Kirsi for over a year—it felt like forever! Soon she’d be coming home from her mission to have surgery. Jordan was sad that she was sick, but he was happy that they’d be together soon.
When he came home from school the next day, Kirsi was sitting on the couch. Jordan ran and hugged her.
“Hi, Jordan! I missed you!” Kirsi said.
Jordan smiled. “I missed you too! I’m sorry that you’re sick.”
“Thanks, buddy,” Kirsi said. She was holding the Book of Mormon in her lap.
“Can I read with you?” he asked.
“Why don’t you go get your Book of Mormon, and we can start at the beginning together.”
Jordan ran to his room and grabbed his copy. “Got it!” he yelled as he ran back. He scooted in next to Kirsi.
They opened to the title page. “The Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ,” Jordan read. They took turns reading.
“On my mission I studied the scriptures with my companion every day,” Kirsi said. “Would you be my study buddy until it’s time for me to go back to my mission?” Kirsi asked.
“Yeah!” he said.
A few days later, Kirsi had her surgery. She came home from the hospital to rest and heal for a few weeks. She and Jordan studied the Book of Mormon together every day.
Before she went back to her mission, Kirsi said, “Jordan, I want to challenge you to finish the Book of Mormon before you are baptized!”
Jordan thought about that. His eighth birthday was only a few months away. He would have a lot of reading to do. But he wanted to do it. “Yes,” Jordan said.
“As you read, will you pray and ask if it’s true?” Kirsi asked. “Moroni promised that if we do that, the Holy Ghost will tell us if it’s true.”
“OK,” Jordan said.
By the time Kirsi went back to her mission, they’d reached 2 Nephi together.
Jordan really missed Kirsi. He especially missed being her study buddy. But then he got a great idea!
At school the next day, he walked over to his best friend Jake’s desk.
“I’m going to read the whole Book of Mormon before I get baptized,” Jordan said. “Since we’re both getting baptized on the same day, do you want to do it too?”
“Yeah,” Jake said. “I’ve never read the whole Book of Mormon before.”
Every day at school, they asked each other the same question.
“How far along are you?”
“The end of Jacob. How far along are you?”
Soon they didn’t even have to ask the question anymore. They gave each other a look and they knew the question.
“I think we’ll finish just in time for our baptisms,” Jordan said.
Finally the day of their baptisms came.
“I finished last night,” Jordan whispered.
“Me too!” Jake said. “And I prayed to know if it was true, and I felt really warm and happy.”
Jordan smiled. “Same. I felt really happy when I prayed.” He was so thankful for Kirsi’s challenge. Now he was building his very own testimony.

“You hide your horses in this grove of trees by the tracks. The train will be coming up the grade out of the canyon. Mike, you flag it down. The rest of you board the train. I’ll be up in front here and shoot anything that moves. All right, let’s go!”
That wasn’t Butch Cassidy talking. That was me, and that day I shot horses, people, trains, a guy carrying a canoe, and a bird watchers club by mistake. I shot them with a super-8 movie camera as part of one of the greatest, most colossal spectacles ever to hit the silver screen—at least we thought so: “The Great Train Robbery” (we titled it) produced by the Edgemont Fourth Ward Aaronic Priesthood MIA and featuring a cast of dozens (including some we hadn’t planned on).
If you’re looking for a different activity for your Aaronic Priesthood MIA, maybe a movie spectacular is the answer. A movie is a large undertaking, but it’s fun, and you may excite some previously unexcited kids. We did. Don’t worry too much about the technical aspects of movie making. Enthusiasm covers a multitude of blunders, and humility covers the rest. There is almost always a willing expert in the ward or neighborhood or down at the camera shop.
We started out like this:
“Let’s make a movie,” said the members of the bishops youth committee.
“Great idea,” said the ever-enthusiastic drama specialist. “Uh … which end of the camera do you point?”
Fortunately today’s automatic camera equipment is designed with a medium I.Q. in mind. You don’t have to be Stanley Kramer to come out with something on the film. Speaking of equipment, snoop around the ward a little. Especially after Christmas. You can probably unearth both a camera and cameraman. If worse comes to absolute worst, you can usually rent equipment from a camera store.
You will probably want your colossal extravaganza to run more than three minutes (that’s the length of a roll of film), so you’ll need a film editing machine and some adhesive splicing tabs to stick the films together—also available at the camera store. Anybody who finds film editing exciting has lived a very uneventful life. Also, the handy-dandy splicing tapes require the finger dexterity of a professional pickpocket. But it has to be done, so stick with it (pun intended). It is satisfying when you’ve finished. Film and development are the biggest costs, of course. We spent $105.00 for a 25-minute epic. Writing the script isn’t hard; just remember to put in plenty of action, plenty of people, plenty of outdoors. Look around for any unusual settings for action scenes. Is there a park with an old airplane, or an outdoor museum? Are there stores, houses, or barns with unusual exteriors? If nothing else, is there an open space where you can stage an indian raid or a medieval jousting tournament?
We decided on a train robbery because we had the elements close at hand. The Heber Creeper is an old-time steam engine that carries sightseers between Heber, Utah, and lower Provo Canyon. The owners were happy to participate in the robbery and even showed us the best spot to pull off the job.
Our ward had enough riding enthusiasts to get the outlaw band more or less mounted. We had purebred stallions, ancient hay burners, a Shetland pony, and one reluctant donkey. He was the only member of the cast who didn’t think it was a good idea. We first noticed this lack of enthusiasm when we had to drag him stiff-legged down the road behind my Volkswagen to load him on a truck. If you’ve got 53 horsepower on one end of the rope and one donkey power on the other, you’ve got a toss-up contest that could go either way. But we finally won.
We loaded him and the rest of the horses and outlaws and headed for the hills.
The train route winds through Provo Canyon, then hugs the hillside around Deer Creek reservoir, and cuts through the fields and pastures of Heber Valley. We set up near a grove of trees and waited.
“Here she comes!” shouted the lookout.
I hollered, “Lights! Action! Roll ’em!” (Whatever that means.)
Lights and roll ’em we didn’t get, but action we did. One blast of the engine whistle and every horse sponsored his own Kentucky Derby in his own direction. Only the donkey was left. He was too ornery to be scared. He just stood stiff-legged by the tracks and sang two-part harmony with the train as it thundered by.
The Creeper was a white puff of smoke in the distance by the time we rounded up the last of the horses, so we dubbed in the train scene later. Speaking of dubbing in, try as much as possible to shoot the scenes in order. Rehearse them while looking through the camera; then try to get it right the first take. It will save film costs and editing time later.
Our script called for a brawl scene climaxed by a pie in the face. For this scene we got the bishop’s permission, because he got the pie in the face. Blueberry cream. It was a beautiful scene and performed with excellent taste, the bishop said.
Close-ups and reaction-to-the-action shots help pace the action. And also try to frame your characters as large as practical in the shot unless it’s a deliberate long shot or scenery shot. Mount your camera on a tripod whenever possible. Even though your cameraman lives the Word of Wisdom, he’s got shaky hands.
You can get synchronized sound with some super-8 movie cameras, but this was more trouble and expense than we wanted. We used a silent screen format with printed titles to show the dialogue and credits. You can type these and photograph them with a close-up attachment on the movie camera. Here, especially, use the tripod, We recorded a rinky-tink piano background (put thumbtacks in the piano hammers to get the “tink”). We play the tape whenever we show the movie.
Showing the movie is, of course, the climax, particularly the premiere showing. We staged a variety show titled “Salute to the Silver Screen.” The whole ward was invited (and came), and the kids did songs, dances, and skits based on great movies of the past. (Unfortunately most of the great movies are in the past.) Then we honored the cast and showed the movie. “The Great Train Robbery” will never get an Oscar, but it was a “ward winning” movie.

It may have happened several months ago, but being part of the Masskara opening number for the cultural show we staged during the welcome dinner for the Tabernacle Choir in February and during the area broadcast with Elder and Sister Stevenson in May still inspires me.
Looking back, I had to sacrifice my weekends to attend the practices. There were times when I felt so tired, especially since I had to juggle family, a ton of school work, and practices while also waking up early, traveling, dealing with sore muscles, and more.
Despite this, I knew that I was doing it for the Lord and that all of my efforts would be worth it. I felt the Lord’s hand every step of the way. On top of that, I got to know so many people, built unexpected friendships, and had so much fun!
We were only given less than two months to practice compared to previous cultural presentations which had several months of preparation, so I was amazed that we were able to learn the steps quickly. I was also inspired by the hard work of those around me, especially the trainers and those who arranged the show.
They were sacrificing so much of their time and effort (to the point that some even sacrificed their sleep), and they were so patient with us. They cared for each one of us. I felt this the most when our trainers gave each of us awards that were well thought out and personalized, which deeply touched my heart. Our trainers also pushed for us to bond with one another, and I think this bond we have with our fellow dancers would not exist without them.
On the day of the performance, we all gave our best. When I saw how the Tabernacle Choir members enjoyed our performances so much, and how they were moved to tears, it made me feel that all of the efforts and sacrifices we made were worth it. I was also surprised and moved to tears when they sang a song for us. It was such a memorable experience for me. That moment felt like we were Zion—of one heart and of one mind, all worshipping the Lord, all united by music. Nothing can replace the sacredness and joy that I felt that night.
Three months later, we performed our Masskara dance again, this time with Elder and Sister Stevenson, the Area Presidency and their wives, and the entire country as the show and the devotional were broadcast live! We experienced the same high, this time brought about by the inspiring words of Elder and Sister Stevenson. They counseled us to P.R.O. every day: Pray over and over, Read time after time, and Obey again and again.
My Masskara co-dancers and I have been trying to apply the things we learned during our rehearsal period and our recent performances, and today I am happy to note that among the Masskara dancers, three are already serving their missions, and two have received their call.
Those who are serving include Sister Alcantara, a service missionary serving in the Quezon City North Mission, and Sister Russel Bañaga and Sister Krizzia Arpellida, both serving in the Philippines, Urdaneta Mission (they entered the MTC on July 19, 2024). Meanwhile, Brother James Ejercito’s mission in Seoul, South Korea started on September 27, 2024, and Sister Maren Rivera will serve in the Philippines Baguio Mission on November 1, 2024.
Sister Alcantara and Sister Bañaga were part of the previous generation of Masskara dancers who volunteered to train and teach the current batch of Masskara dancers. They showed patience and charity as they developed close relationships with the youth and taught those who had difficulty with the steps. Their example not just as dancers but as servants of the Lord is such a blessing to all of us.
Sister Arpellida, Brother James, and Sister Maren were all part of the current generation of Masskara dancers. The three of them developed a close friendship during the practices, and shared their progress along the covenant path, encouraging and inspiring each other. They showed resilience and perseverance despite having sore bodies as they continued to practice every Saturday from 8:00 am to 5:00 pm.
I can’t remember how many generations of Masskara dancers there have been since it started 14 years ago when they performed it during the Church Jubilee celebration at the Araneta Coliseum. As a primary child back then, I was amazed by the colorful and energetic number. I was also inspired by the many dancers and trainers who have served missions through the years. The legacy continues, and I hope more of the dancers from my generation will go and serve.
These missionaries and soon-to-be missionaries inspire all of us fellow dancers. They sacrificed their time and talents to the Lord to serve him through performing for the Tabernacle Choir and Elder and Sister Stevenson, now they are sacrificing their time and talents to invite others to come unto Christ and help them receive the gospel of Jesus Christ.

I work closely with athletes as they prepare to be coaches and teachers. I find that some of them associate their worth with their behavior in the athletic arena. I remember a young track star who blew out her knee in a pickup basketball game during the off-season. Her world was shattered, and her identity was that of a good-for-nothing—useless. She was depressed and unproductive for several months because she felt her worth was dependent on her accomplishments, and she felt she would not be able to accomplish much now that she was injured. She worked very hard at her rehabilitation to get back to her earlier running form, and this story does have a happy ending. She did return to athletic glory. At that point in time, for her, her worth was determined by her athletic abilities. When I saw her with her young child several years later and asked her about her running, she remarked that wasn’t the focus of her life anymore. Perhaps love for her baby had helped her to understand that worth is not determined by accomplishments or talents or possessions or power or appearance. It’s a given from God and is always there.

In a recent message of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir’s Music and the Spoken Word, a story was told about an elderly man and woman who had been married for many decades. Because the wife was slowly losing her sight, she could no longer take care of herself the way she had done for so many years. Without being asked, the husband began to paint her fingernails for her.
“He knew that she could see her fingernails when she held them close to her eyes, at just the right angle, and they made her smile. He liked to see her happy, so he kept painting her nails for more than five years before she passed away.”14

For example, students from Copper Hills High School, a school located in a Salt Lake suburb, organized a Christmas talent show for South Valley Care Center. After performing, they decorated the care center for the elderly with handmade ornaments and handed out candy canes. Tiffany Tolbert helped coordinate Copper Hills High School’s SOS projects. She says SOS has helped her make new friends and learn to lead. Most of all, it has given her a chance to help people. “I really enjoy doing service because I want to make a difference,” she says.

I bought the first one several years ago in a drugstore in Alexandria, Virginia. At 77¢, it was the least pretentious bound notebook I could find. At the time, I didn’t know I was starting a journal. I only knew I needed a place to organize my thoughts.
Before then, I had written ideas on any convenient scrap of paper—on the backs of tithing slips, on church programs, in small spaces on calendars. As I lost those bits of paper, I lost my only record of my best insights. The time had come to make them more lasting.
From grade school through high school I had kept diaries, but the small, hand-size pages didn’t allow for long entries. And the word diary on the front seemed too lofty, like the record an explorer would keep of an Antarctic exploration. I wrote only the activities of my life in them, never my thoughts. (A typical entry: “Today I did horrible on my history test, but tonight Mike in my French class called me.”)
There was little emotional substance to those entries, but at least they were entries. Regrettably, as l attended college, I became “too busy” to keep a diary.
Therefore, when I bought the 77¢ notebook, I wasn’t thinking “diary” or “journal.” I was just tired of losing those insights that would make good Sunday School talks. As I wrote in that first notebook, I was fascinated by how easily words came. I began looking forward to writing in my notebook at night. Sometimes during the day I would write myself a note about ideas to record that night. Some mornings I awoke before dawn and wrote fervently for five minutes or even an hour, undisturbed by the need to get up and get dressed. Some nights I wrote several entries; some nights I wrote none.
I liked the inexpensive notebooks because I wasn’t afraid to make mistakes in them, or to write about the mistakes I made in living. I began setting aside time to write. I wrote in the same place—curled up on the sofa, by the lamp. I recorded in the margins events that were significant, such as a new car or the date of my cat’s vaccinations. The actual writing space was used to record my reactions to the day, my observations and conclusions.
It was only when I went back to the drugstore several months later to buy another notebook that I realized I was keeping a journal. I decided to give the series of notebooks a name: Janet. The first volume, Janet 1, hadn’t exactly assumed journal form, since I had dated few entries, and none mentioned daily activities and impressions. As I realized I was keeping a journal, I modified the format so that I would at least know what day each entry was written.
It became interesting, too, to note where I was each day I wrote. No matter where I went—on trips or to stay with nearby friends—I found that I was the same person, with the same personality.
When I was visiting a friend once, I realized the journal’s potential for encouraging spiritual and emotional growth. After hours of bantering with a philosophy student who wanted to argue about the gospel, I wrote a long entry about my beliefs. Putting it on paper was like testifying. That night, as I wrote with a purple felt-tipped pen, I realized how open and honest I was with my journal—probably more candid than I was with any friend. Because of my frustration with my ability to think and express myself I wrote: “My brain has been like a vacuum cleaner, sucking in all sorts of garbage and dirt. And gold dust. So I must empty the bag and sort out the particles one by one until only the gold dust is left.”
Writing out my ideas gave me a chance to analyze them. Sometimes, in writing, I realized that my attitudes were based on selfishness or faulty judgment. Other times I was glad to realize that my ideas were sound.
Sometimes I found myself laughing out loud at my reactions to the traumas of each day. Once on a bad day I wrote “PHOOEY” in letters 15 spaces high. It helped.
I started titling each entry. One of my favorite titles—and favorite entries—came when I was trying to develop greater faith. That title was “Doubt Creeps in and Janet Strikes Back.” Some titles reflect a calmer attitude. One in Janet 3, “On Days and Nights and Things I Love,” leads into a paragraph I love to reread:
“I love nights that are chilly and clear, when I can see the stars and talk aloud under them. And I love early mornings, being up, being alive, and being outside on a day that is only starting. I love new beginnings that are just getting organized. And clean sheets, clean nightgown, clean body, clean hair, and a reason to be happy. I love the world when my soul brims with hope.”
My soul doesn’t always brim with hope. Sometimes it brims with frustration. When that’s the case, I can look back to the rejuvenating entry I wrote that September night. I can find encouragement from another entry, written soon after that one: “When I can understand what I’m going through, I find that endurance becomes easier.”
Not every entry is profound or even interesting. But each, in its own way, traces my daily conversion to the gospel, my struggles with myself, and my delight with each line-upon-line discovery of living. Each helps the others assume clearer perspective. Not only does each entry reflect my life, but it affects and becomes part of my life.
It was during Janet 4, when my best friend moved, that I wrote: “I hurt too much to write.” And it was during Janet 5, after I had written a thoughtless letter that hurt a friend, that I wrote in my journal: “Through the many confusing voices that ring through my mind, one calming voice pervades and tells me the whole matter will be of no consequence.” After writing about that “calming voice,” I listened to it more carefully. The “voice” was right; when I later asked the friend to forgive me, he said he already had.
One day, when I felt that life was picking on me, I started what has become a tradition. I wrote an entry titled “Things I Am Thankful For.” It amazed me that day, as it still does, how varied and plentiful are my blessings, and how obscure and sometimes even humorous are my trials.
Through moves from one side of the United States to the other, through vacations, through each peak and plateau, the volumes of my journal have been a constant, a friend, tucked on a bookshelf or into a suitcase along with my copies of the scriptures. They have become a vehicle for working out personal answers for the curious challenges of each day.
I thought, at the beginning of the journal keeping, that I would neatly record my most profound thoughts, making them more accessible when I had to give sacrament meeting talks. Once or twice I have used a journal for that, but it’s far from the full benefit. The journal isn’t a reference book about my life, nor does it map my life. It isn’t a status chart; it’s a dynamic, if rough, artwork.
The Janet series is steaming ahead in its 15th volume. Some volumes span a year, and others a few months. I am the only person who has read all of them, and I may keep it that way—for a few decades, at least. The volumes have graduated from inexpensive notebooks to actual hardback books with blank pages. I have to confess—I bought a leather-bound journal last time (but it was on sale). And I did make quite a concession on the journal before that; it actually says “Journal” on the cover!

LeAnn, 16, is considering a profession in law. During her sophomore year in high school she took typing and secretarial classes. That summer she found a law firm that was willing to hire her as a receptionist. She was paid better than she would have been in traditional summer work. In addition, she was able to observe the workings of a law firm. She was also improving her secretarial skills and developing a legal background. (A good legal secretary can make 50–75 percent more than a general secretary.)

On Saturday 27th April 2024, Elder Ioan Berry, a currently serving service missionary in the England Birmingham Mission, alongside his mum, Imogen, and his older brother, Jotham, were invited by internationally acclaimed speech and language therapist and chair of NAPLIC, Stephen Parsons, to give a 40-minute presentation on “Living with Developmental Language Disorder (DLD) – A Family Perspective.” Over 200 delegates who were university academics, professionals working with people with DLD and families living with DLD were in attendance.
“‘Developmental Language Disorder’ (DLD) is identified when children, young people or adults have difficulties with understanding the language they hear or speaking in sentences to express meaning. It is a lifelong condition.
DLD can be used to describe the condition if there is no other cause for the language difficulties, such as autism.” (NAPLIC)
Elder Berry spoke first and described his experience of growing up with DLD and what support has helped and hindered in this. He spoke about his service mission and how this has helped him grow in confidence. He also shared a link to a video he made during COVID lockdown describing DLD (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bXHCjk_FCI4).
Imogen spoke about the journey to access support, language therapy and specialist education for Ioan and the 42 professionals who have been involved with Ioan’s success.
Jotham then gave a sibling perspective, and how he has supported Elder Berry as protector and advocate. Jotham was also able to speak about serving his mission in the Scotland Ireland Mission, and how his experience of growing up with a neurodiverse brother had helped him be more understanding of companions who had ADHD and Autism. Jotham also gave a report on his dissertation for his MSc degree in Occupational Psychology, in which he spoke to adults with DLD and assessed reasonable adjustments that could be made in the workplace to enable adults with DLD to succeed and thrive. Professor Courtenay Norbury from UCL, who attended the conference, is supporting Jotham in having his research paper published.
At the end of the conference, delegates were asked to complete an evaluation, and many replied that their highlight of the day was the Berry family presentation. Below is a summary of the conference compiled by Stephen Parsons:
https://www.naplic.org.uk/category/conferences/#:~:text=Recently%20the%20NAPLIC%20annual%20conference,secondary%20education%20into%20young%20adulthood.
The family were approached by various delegates over the course of the day. Elder Berry has been invited to speak to other professionals in Devon next summer and to provide an article for the nationally circulated Speechlink magazine. Many attendees wanted to talk to the family about DLD, but a number approached to talk specifically about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and a lot of information about service missions was shared.

Minjun and Dad hurried into the Church building, the cold wind blowing behind them. It was chilly inside the building too. Minjun hoped it would get warmer as more people gathered.
Minjun’s friend Jungmin was getting baptized today. Jungmin had met with the sister missionaries and thought about getting baptized for a long time. The whole ward had fasted and prayed for him. Finally he decided to be baptized. And today was the day!
The font was still filling up with water when Minjun and Dad walked into the room. They sat down next to Minjun’s friend James. Soon Jungmin walked in, dressed in white baptismal clothing.
“He looks a little nervous,” James said.
Minjun nodded. He was glad he could be here for his friend.
Soon the font was filled. It was time for the baptism to begin! But instead of starting, the missionaries were talking with some of the other members, and they looked worried. Dad went to see what was wrong.
“What’s the matter?” Minjun asked Dad.
“The water heater in the building is broken, so the water in the font is very cold,” Dad said.
Minjun looked at the font. At his baptism, there had been warm weather, warm water, and even his dad’s warm hug when he came out of the water. He couldn’t imagine being baptized in cold water on such a cold winter day.
Minjun watched as Jungmin courageously stepped into the water with Elder Keck, who was going to baptize him.
“It’s too cold!” Jungmin said. “I can’t stay in here any longer.” He climbed back out of the font, shivering. Minjun felt sad for him.
A few minutes later, Jungmin tried to get in the water again. This time he only made a few steps before hurrying out. He tried two more times. The water was freezing! Jungmin looked like he was about to cry.
Minjun said a silent prayer asking how he could help.
“What should we do?” someone said.
“Should we postpone the baptism?” someone else asked. Everyone wanted to help Jungmin, but they didn’t know how.
Then Minjun had an idea. He gave James a nudge. “Let’s go, James!”
Minjun and James went to the kitchen. They found a large cup and bowl and filled them with hot water from the water dispenser. They carefully carried them back to the chapel and dumped the hot water in the font. “Maybe this will help warm the water up!” Minjun said.
Everyone was surprised. “Why didn’t we think of that?” someone asked.
Together, everyone started adding warm water from the kitchen. Some people boiled water on the stove. Others carefully carried the pots across the hall and poured the hot water into the font. Even the other Primary children helped, one cup at a time.
Finally the water was warm enough. Jungmin and Elder Keck stepped all the way into the font. Minjun felt warm in his heart as he listened to Elder Keck say the words of the baptism prayer. When Jungmin came out of the water, he was smiling. Everyone was happy.
After Jungmin changed into his dry clothes, Minjun gave him a big hug. Minjun knew that whenever he prayed with courage, Heavenly Father would help him know what to do. This baptism was one Minjun would never forget!
Jungmin with the missionaries and with some of the people who helped carry water.
See Come, Follow Me for 3 Nephi 8–11.

Each September a large international corporation, at its own expense, flew me and some other people to its headquarters in Chicago for a meeting that lasted several days. One year when I was there, a top executive of this corporation asked, “Thomas, would you like to go to dinner with me tonight? I’m inviting some others, and I’d love to have you join us.”
Liquor was available at the dinner, and a waiter asked for our drink order. I said, “I wouldn’t care for anything.”
My host, who was seated next to me, said, “Come on, Tom, have a drink. Relax.”
“No, I really wouldn’t care for anything.”
“Well, you have to have something.”
So I ordered ginger ale. It surprised me just a little that he would insist as he had, because he’d known me over the years, and whenever I went to his organization’s “social hours,” I was automatically given a glass of orange juice. But that night he really put the pressure on me. Then the waiter asked the others for their orders, and everyone ordered an alcoholic drink except the host—he ordered ginger ale!
A couple of weeks later, after I had returned to Salt Lake City, I received a long-distance telephone call from this man. He said, “I’d like to come out and visit with you. Will you be in town on such-and-such dates?”
I said that I would, and he came out with his wife and spent two or three days with us. At the end of their visit, he said, “Now I’m going to tell you why I’m really here. I’m here to ask you to be my assistant. I’d very much appreciate it if you would consider moving to Chicago. You could live in Evanston, Illinois; there are no alcoholic beverages served there, so you’d live in that kind of atmosphere. We want you to be part of our corporation. Take a week or ten days to think about it, then call me.”
“Something interests me,” I said. “When we were back in Chicago and you invited me to dinner that night, you really put the pressure on me to take a drink. Why?”
He smiled and said, “That’s right; I did. You see, we want to have men with very high ideals to head this corporation. We’d like to have men who think that the most enjoyable way to spend a Saturday night is to be home reading a family magazine and drinking ginger ale.”
It was a great honor to be offered such a key position in such a prestigious company, but after much deliberation, I called to tell him that I was going to stay with ZCMI. He said, “That’s fine. We still appreciate you, and if you ever change your mind, let me know.”
In life we find challenges of various kinds. Some of them are obvious, and some of them are not quite so obvious. In this case the challenge was not quite so obvious. But because I had met the challenge and had not had an alcoholic drink that night at the restaurant, I was thrice-blessed for sticking by my principles. First, I was offered a key position in an international organization. Second, even after I had turned them down, they let me know that their doors would always be open to me. Third, I was called by the Lord to spend my life in the best possible way—working full-time for Him.

Let me share with you a few personal examples of how this has occurred in my life which also answers why I am here at BYU-Idaho.I had a verbal employment agreement before I ever left for graduate school. However, between my first and second year of graduate school the organization in which I would have been hired was restructured and those who wished to hire me were no longer in a position to do so. I started praying more earnestly to know what I should do for employment. The thought kept coming to me that I should return to Provo.

Most of my graduate school cohort was preparing to travel to Chicago for a national conference and job placement fair for our profession. Through prayer I had the strong impression that I did not need to go to Chicago, as I was to return to Provo upon graduation. However, I chose to ignore that impression and went to Chicago with my cohort.

My failing to heed this impression proved nearly fatal to my confidence and pride. I submitted countless resumes and had a number of interviews, but not one single school contacted me back. Later in humble prayer I again felt the impression that I should return to Provo.This time I trusted in the Lord and returned to Provo with no job and very little money. After a few weeks I was able to secure a one year temporary job at BYU.

Eight months later, I still hadn't found anything permanent and was praying to know what I should do. This time I received a distinct impression that I would soon receive a phone call and be offered a job. It sounded crazy, yet I trusted in the Lord.

A few weeks later the promised phone call came and I was offered a position as the Assistant Director of the Freedom Festival at Provo. I had volunteered with this organization throughout my undergraduate years at BYU and continued to assist them while at graduate school. Little did I know how much this opportunity, which the Lord led me to, would impact my life.

It was through my job at the Freedom Festival that I met a young lady named Jennifer Blake. She was a volunteer with the Festival and we ended up dating for a month or so before it ended.

By November it was time to start staffing our volunteer positions once again and I faced a major predicament. Jennifer was the only one who had experience with this particular responsibility and I knew I would need to contact her and ask her to continue to volunteer. I was nervous but to my surprise, she agreed to meet with me.

She was working full-time for housing at BYU so I invited her to meet me in the lounge of the Wilkinson Center on the BYU campus for lunch. When she walked into the lounge, I felt like I was suddenly in a movie....it was as if time stood still, there was a bright light, and there may even been angels singing. In that moment I received a spiritual confirmation so strong and clear I could not deny. I knew I was going to marry her.

Within one month after getting married we started to receive impressions that we would be leaving Utah. For us it was crazy to think about, we both loved our jobs and couldn't imagine leaving or doing anything else. However, in a short period of time, things changed and we felt we needed to look elsewhere for work. I looked for jobs everywhere but couldn't find anything in my area of expertise until I looked at the employment web site for what was then Ricks College. Sure enough, there was listing for a New Student Orientation position. I submitted my resume by mail, and seven days later received a job offer.

In 1856, Julia and Emily Hill, sisters who had joined the Church as teenagers in England and been disowned by their family, had finally earned passage for their way to America and had almost reached their longed-for Zion. They were crossing the American plains with the Willie handcart company when they and many others were stranded on the trail by an early October storm. Sister Deborah Christensen, a great-granddaughter of Julia Hill, experienced this touching dream about them. She said:
“I could see Julia and Emily stranded in the snow on the windy summit of Rocky Ridge with the rest of the Willie handcart company. They had no heavy clothing to keep them warm. Julia was sitting in the snow, shaking. She could not carry on. Emily, who was freezing as well, knew that if she did not help Julia stand up, Julia would die. As Emily wrapped her arms around her sister to help her up, Julia began to cry—but no tears came, only soft whimpering sounds. Together they walked slowly to their handcart. Thirteen died that terrible night. Julia and Emily survived.”
Sisters, without each other, these women probably would not have lived. In addition, they helped others survive this devastating portion of the journey, including a young mother and her children. It was Emily Hill Woodmansee who later wrote the beautiful words to the song “As Sisters in Zion.” The verse “We’ll comfort the weary and strengthen the weak” takes on new meaning when you imagine her experience on the snow-packed plains.

When I turned twelve years old, I was nervous about passing the sacrament for the first time. I remember one of the veteran deacons, if there can be such a thing, drew me a map with numbers and arrows to show me where to go and what to do, which made me even more nervous. I was worried that I might trip and fall or that I might go to the wrong row and be the source of disruption during the most sacred moment of the Sabbath.

Things were going well until I stepped to the end of one of the rows and attempted to give the sacrament to an old, white haired man sitting alone. He didn’t reach out and partake of the bread. His head was bowed, and his eyes were closed. And then I thought, what do you do when you’re passing the sacrament and the person on the end of the row is asleep? Nobody in the deacon’s quorum trained me how to deal with that unexpected situation. So, I just stood there. And then I started to feel uncomfortable. At the moment of my greatest anxiety, that old, white haired man opened his eyes and looked right at me and I felt something spiritual. Then I knew he hadn’t been asleep. He’d experienced something powerful in response to the Savior’s prayer to the Father that the old, white haired man partake of the bread “in remembrance of the body of thy Son, and witness unto thee . . . that they are willing to take upon them the name of thy Son, and always remember him and keep his commandments which he has given them.”[30] Because that old, white haired man had accepted the Savior’s invitation as expressed in the blessing on the bread, he was rewarded to “always have his Spirit to be with” him, including in that very moment.

That’s when I knew that partaking of the sacrament could be a weekly, life changing experience. It’s not insignificant that the promised blessing of both the prayer on the bread and the prayer on the water are identical, to have “his spirit,” [meaning the Holy Ghost], to be with” us.[31] Hearing those words on a weekly basis is intended to help us understand how important it is for us to desire most the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost.

On one occasion I arrived early at a hotel and had some free time before my assignment that night. The hotel had a beautiful, tranquil pool in the patio. It was unoccupied, so I grabbed my scriptures and went out to study. It was a gorgeous afternoon, and soon I was feasting on the scriptures. You know how it feels when you are learning new principles, and your mind and soul are being charged with spiritual truth. It was one of those moments. While deep in the scriptures, I heard a door open and out of the corner of my eye, I sensed a young woman coming toward the pool in a bikini. It was a moment of decision. The common man would turn and take in the sight. On this occasion I simply rotated my chair, turning my back to the pool and continued with my studies.

What happened next is difficult for me to describe. I was already feasting on the scriptures, but it seemed my study and understanding ascended to an even higher intensity. I was taught and given confidence in myself and my spiritual capacities and abilities that I had never before contemplated. I felt, in the words of the Prophet Joseph, "pure intelligence flowing into me." That night as I performed my responsibilities, I was given a personal witness that confirmed in a very real way what I was taught after I turned my back on temptation. The next day, I reread the chapters I had studied out by the pool, to review again what I had learned. The new concepts and principles I had learned were not written in those chapters. In a sweet, miraculous manner I had been taught between the lines. Looking back, I recognize that the principles I was taught that day were of key importance in preparing me for the calling I have today.

It’s not often that a brother and sister compete in team roping, yet team roping is only the beginning of the Janice-Brent team. Just last fall, serving the governor of Utah, his wife, and other judges a meal consisting of garlic lamb steaks, baked potatoes, tossed green salad, carrots, a melon-ball appetizer, braided yeast bread, and a raspberry cream dessert was—yes, the Janice-Brent team.
Adorned with aprons and hats, and reminded by 3-by-5 cards printed with such phrases as “Put plates in oven to heat,” “Cut green peppers,” “Set fruit on table,” “Change aprons,” and “Call guests,” the efficient team won first place in the state 4-H contest and a trip to Denver, Colorado.

I recently heard Jenny’s story. She is a returned missionary whose parents divorced while she was serving her mission. She told how the thought of returning home “scared [her] to death.” But at the end of her mission to Italy, as she stopped in the mission home on her way home to the United States, a certain woman, the mission president’s wife, tenderly ministered to her simply by brushing her hair.

Years later, another certain woman, Terry—a stake Relief Society president and disciple of Jesus Christ—blessed Jenny’s life when Jenny was called as a ward Relief Society president. At that time, Jenny was working on her dissertation for her doctoral degree. Not only did Terry serve as a mentor to Jenny as a leader, but she also sat with her for 10 hours at the hospital when Jenny received the alarming diagnosis of leukemia. Terry visited the hospital and drove Jenny to appointments. Jenny confessed, “I think I may have thrown up several times in her car.”

Despite her illness, Jenny continued to serve valiantly as the ward Relief Society president. Even in her extremity, she made phone calls and sent texts and emails from her bed, and she invited sisters to come see her. She mailed cards and notes to people, loving her sisters from a distance. When her ward requested a photograph of her presidency for their ward history, this is what they got. Because Jenny is a certain woman herself, she invited all to share others’ burdens, including her own.

As a certain woman, Jenny testified: “Not only are we here to save others but to save ourselves. And that salvation comes from partnering with Jesus Christ, from understanding His grace and His Atonement and His feelings of love for the women of the Church. That happens through things as simple as brushing someone’s hair; sending a note with an inspired, clear, revelatory message of hope and grace; or allowing women to serve us.”9

One day in my P.E. class, a boy and a girl began saying the Lord’s name in vain. I told them I didn’t like them saying it, and that our church teaches us not to. For the rest of the day, they teased me about it and said it even more. When I got home, I prayed and asked Heavenly Father that they would not continue to say it and tease me. They haven’t teased me about it again! I’m thankful Heavenly Father answered my prayer. I’m thankful I can be a good example even though the other students were making fun of me.