Gospel Story Finder

On my office wall is a quote from Anne Morrow Lindbergh: “My life cannot implement in action the demands of all the people to whom my heart responds” (Gift from the Sea [1955], 124). For me, it is a needed reminder. A few years ago, already weary, I foolishly went late one afternoon to two different hospitals to give blessings to three individuals who were dying of cancer. Not only was I worn out, but worse, the last person really didn’t get much from me. Things had not been “done in wisdom and order.” I was running faster than my supply of strength and energy on that occasion. Those blessings would have been better given over two or three days, and I would have had more empathy and energy.

The first one we will call Jim. Jim comes from a distant state. He is a fine-looking, clean-cut young man not quite thirty years old. He was one of those who opposed the establishment and society in general. He came from a broken home. He had experienced no love in his life. He left home at age seventeen and joined the army. After release from the military, he wandered about the country without goal or purpose in life, finally finding himself in Salt Lake City. He was involved in a theft, arrested, convicted, and sent to prison. He escaped one day, was recaptured, and was placed in maximum security. In his words, “I came out of maximum security and returned to medium, and still did not know what to do with my life.”
One of the prisoners, knowing of some of the turmoil Jim was going through, sent him to see the LDS chaplain. This was the beginning of a completely new experience in Jim’s life. Even though he found himself in prison, he had taken the first step to a freedom he had not known existed.
After a few weeks of exposure to the program of the Church specially designed for prison life, he said he was able to give up smoking. He became involved in the various religious programs sponsored by the Church social service agency. He said, “I haven’t smoked a cigarette since that day. I haven’t had a cup of coffee since December of last year.” He goes on to tell of the good feeling of accomplishment in overcoming bad personal habits.
He also tells about the family home evening program conducted by his home teachers. He explained that he would have given up in discouragement many times had it not been for this wonderful couple who had been assigned as his home teachers. He said they actually loved him as a son, something he had never experienced in his life, even as a little boy. In his own words: “I have been in this program since June 16, 1970. For these sixteen months, I probably made more changes in my life—inside these walls away from the rat race of society—that I know are going to determine my whole future more than the first twenty-three years of my life before prison. I had no idea at all what the LDS people were or what the Church was until I went to prison.
“I am not proud of being in prison, but I am proud of my experience while being there. I am proud of being a graduate of the program that the LDS people have offered to the inmates at the prison.”
This is the young man who conducted the graduation exercises and did it in a most impressive manner. His goal now is to finish paying his debt to society in order to be released from prison so that he might prepare for baptism and membership in the Church.

During the summer of 2012, Vili and Josh attended an Aaronic Priesthood camp sponsored by their stake. The twins’ cousin, a young deacon, started teasing one of the older young men, which led to a scuffle. Vili quickly ran over and pulled them apart.
“I didn’t know the whole story,” Vili says. “I had a hardness in my heart. I was so mad.”
He nearly lost his temper and hit the other young man, but one of the adult leaders intervened. Vili recalls, “He said to me, ‘You hold the priesthood. You are an example. What happens if you hit him? You won’t feel the same and the others won’t look at you the same.’”
Vili had been asked to be a leader at the camp, where the theme was missionary preparation. Vili had prayed that the young men in his ward would feel the Spirit and want to serve missions. To help them commit, Vili had encouraged them to sign their names on a banner testifying that they would serve missions. All of them, including Vili, had signed it. Because of his commitment, he knew he had a responsibility to uphold.
“That night I prayed about [how I had reacted to the older young man] for a long time,” he says. “I realized that if I had gotten in a fight, I would have been kicked out of camp, and my life would have gone down from there. I didn’t want that. I repented. The next day, I was side-by-side with that boy—as friends.”

Some are overcome by major problems; others let small matters become big. Symonds Ryder was a Campbellite leader who heard about the Church and had a meeting with Joseph Smith. Moved by this experience, he joined the Church in June 1831. Immediately thereafter, he was ordained an elder and called to serve a mission. However, in his call letter from the First Presidency and on his official commission to preach, his name was misspelled—by one letter. His last name showed as R-i-d-e-r, not the correct R-y-d-e-r. This caused him to question his call and those from whom it came. He chose not to go on the mission and fell away, which soon led to hatred and intense opposition toward Joseph and the Church. In March 1832, when Joseph Smith and Sidney Rigdon were ripped from home during the night by an angry mob and tarred and feathered, a voice was heard to shout, “Simonds, Simonds [sic], where’s the tar bucket?” (History of the Church, 1:262–63). In less than 10 months, Symonds Ryder went from an eager convert to a mob leader, his spiritual decline starting with the offense taken over the misspelling of his name—by one letter. No matter the size of the issue, how we respond can reset the course of our life.

If it’s Saturday, you’ll find Elvira Guagliarello busily working in the kitchen of her home in Puerto Madryn, located on the shores of Argentina’s Nuevo Gulf in the southern province of Chubut.
She measures out flour and water and then reaches for other ingredients. She says little as she works, her actions speaking louder than her words. After all, she’s on the Lord’s errand.
“I feel good because I know I am doing something good,” says Sister Guagliarello as she mixes the ingredients. She thinks of the Savior as she works, happy with the thought that the product of her service will help other members of the Church remember Him.
Sister Guagliarello, age 82, enjoys serving as a visiting teacher, helps direct the music in her ward, and makes bread for use in the ordinance of the sacrament—a calling she has magnified for nearly 10 years. She prepares a loaf of bread for herself earlier in the week, but on Saturdays she sets aside time to make bread “especially for the Church,” she says. “I say to myself, ‘I have to make bread, and I have to go to church.’ I don’t want to fail.”
“Sister Guagliarello is always happy to serve in every way she can,” says her bishop, Jesús Santos Gumiel. “Ward members know they can count on her. Despite her age, she is faithful in preparing the bread every Saturday and in coming to church every Sunday. She’s a good example.”

Not long ago I interviewed a young man who desired to fill a mission, but he had been guilty of some very serious transgressions during his teen years. He was a member of an active Latter-day Saint family, and he himself had been an actively participating member of the Church, even during the time of his transgressions. Ultimately he had gone to his bishop and confessed his wrongdoings. Now, for more than a year, his life had been free of the earlier difficulties, and he was anxious to serve a mission.

As we talked about his situation and the decisions he had made earlier in his life that led to his questionable standing in the Church, he said, “Oh, I knew that what I was doing was wrong, and I was sure that one day I would put things back in order and go on a mission.”

While I was pleased with this young man’s desire to reorder his life and serve the Lord as a missionary, I was troubled by the apparent premeditated, calculated way in which he had allowed himself to move off the proper course to engage in some destructive, immoral behavior, and then, almost as if he were following a timetable set by himself, he had begun to reconstruct his resolve to be obedient.

If my experience with this young man had been an isolated one, it would not be worthy of note here; unfortunately, however, it is not unique. There appears to be an increasing tendency and temptation for young people to sample the forbidden things of the world, not with the intent to embrace them permanently, but with the knowing decision to indulge in them momentarily as though they held a value of some kind too important or exciting to pass by. It is one of the great tests of our time.

My Grandmother, Vallene Dunkley Bell
Vallene Dunkley was born in Whitney, Idaho in 1922. Grandma Bell was always a bit of a mystery to me. She was fun, she was sharp, she was frugal, she was hardworking, she was steadfast in the gospel, and she was loving (if in a distant way). She was also blunt; she was not very personable. For example, she rarely called to wish me a happy birthday or even sent me a birthday card. I never felt like I had a personal or loving relationship with Grandma Bell; she did have 8 children, 26 grandchildren, and 16 great-grandchildren at the time of her passing, so I get it. I guess I just never really knew nor fully appreciated her. The more I learn about Grandma Bell the more I understand and appreciate the sacrifices she made to support her husband and to raise her family. She made difficult compromises and I’m eternally grateful.
Vallene was one of the most popular, creative, musical, and outgoing children in her hometown of Whitney, Idaho. She was elected president of her class in 8th grade. At age fourteen, she was the assistant ward organist. She took advanced organ classes. She represented her school at the Idaho state-wide music contest. She was a high school cheerleader. She was president of the Builders Club (a social/fellowship organization). She continued her musical prowess serving as the high school choir and opera accompanist and as the Franklin Stake organist. She even presented musical programs over radio station KVNU in Logan.
After graduating from high school, she attended Ricks College and began to date Phil Keller Bell, my grandfather. While at Ricks College, she was the private secretary for Hyrum Manwaring, the president of Ricks College.
A brief note in her personal history reads, “School was interrupted that winter to enter the Logan Temple on January 14, 1942 to be married to Phil Keller Bell of Mink Creek, Idaho.”
After 3 years of marriage, Grandpa and Grandma Bell sold their home in Mink Creek and bought some land in Terreton, Idaho to “find our fortune.” Terreton was the last new frontier in that section of the west. It offered the only opportunity to gain a foothold on farming with nothing down and nothing to go on. In her words:
"The hardest adjustment we had to make in Terreton was getting used to the wind. It seemed that practically every morning at 11:00, a gentle breeze commenced, which soon became a roaring blast which lasted until sunset. As the sun set, the wind died down and was quiet until the [next] morning at 11:00. This necessitated our getting up at 3:00am to do the farming, which gave us an 8-hour day before the wind commenced.
In July, the wind brought with it a hailstorm, which took care of all our harvest worries. Within 19 minutes, the hailstones had pulverized all our crops in that area. It broke windows in houses, gouged holes in the siding and roof of the houses. It killed rabbits in the desert and even chickens in the barnyards. In the fall of 1951, we decided to move to Boise. We still loved Terreton, but of the 7 years we planted crops, we had harvested 4. Two years’ crops were taken by hailstorms and one year’s was ruined by early frost."
Grandma Bell was a woman of culture and intellect and musical abilities. Rather than seeking her own fame and fortune, she made enormous sacrifices so that she and Grandpa Bell could raise their 8 children doing what my grandfather knew best: farming. Her enormous talents were put to use serving in the Church, teaching her children music and the gospel, sewing clothes for her children, cooking meals, and offering willing support to her husband. I have no doubt that the sacrifices she made helped my mother become the perfect example of hard work, obedience, and determination that she is today. I love my Grandma Bell and the sacrifices she made for her family.

Illustrations from Getty Images
Ever since I was a child, I have struggled with my weight and accepting myself. In the beginning, the nicknames I received because of my weight seemed harmless, but with time, I started to believe that the negative things that were said about my appearance also meant negative things about my personality.
As a teenager, I started to realize that, although I liked my physical characteristics, my body type didn’t fit with worldly expectations. And I liked my quiet personality, but it wasn’t what people expected from me either—teachers wanted me to speak up in class, boys liked the more talkative girls, and I was told frequently that I needed to be more outgoing than I actually was. Little by little, my self-worth started to languish.
My young adult years found me depressed, uncomfortable in my body, and questioning why the Lord couldn’t have made me at least a little pretty and more interesting. I tried more diets than I should have, and ironically, the more I tried to lose weight, the more weight I gained. Being a single, introverted, and overweight young adult didn’t seem very promising.
I felt defeated and decided that I was the way I was, even if I never lost the weight I wanted to or became more extroverted. Although I stopped hating myself so much, I was still far from seeing myself as a beautiful, worthwhile daughter of God. I simply gave up on trying to find my worth.
One day a miracle happened while I was reading a talk by Sister Mary G. Cook, wife of Elder Quentin L. Cook of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, from the September 2016 worldwide devotional for young adults titled “Find Joy in Everyday Life.” I read: “When we came to this earth, we brought with us our divine nature as children of God. Our individual worth came from heaven.” I felt as if my mind was finally opened to a light that I so deeply needed but thought I would never get. I realized that, before, I had felt as if it were wrong to like myself because I didn’t fit the worldly stereotype of what a beautiful, worthwhile woman should be. Now I was ready to admit that I love my introverted and geeky personality, messy curly hair, brown eyes, potato-like nose, big smile, and even my overweight body that still does just what I need it to do. I became grateful for being God’s creation. I finally understood that He doesn’t create mistakes.
After so many years of emotional and physical struggles and suffering, I finally learned a truth that for many may be obvious: my individual worth has nothing to do with this world! It came from heaven. It has always been with me, even if I was blind to it. It’s not decided by media, by my peers, or by anybody but Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, and They see me as valuable enough that the Savior died for me.
Learning from the Spirit about my value in God’s eyes has changed me in so many ways. I fell in love with life again. I feel more gratitude for my countless blessings. I feel a huge desire to try harder to do what’s right and believe more in myself and in my dreams. It made me want to be more kind and patient with people around me and brought me closer to the Savior.
The voices of the world keep calling and judging, but now I have a strong knowledge of my worth that I never want to forget. That knowledge brought me peace and joy that I want to share with everyone I meet. Through that devotional talk, I learned that even my self-worth and self-confidence need to have a firm foundation in Christ so “that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon [me], it shall have no power over [me] to drag [me] down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which [I am] built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall” (Helaman 5:12).
I’m grateful for the Lord and the eternal worth He sees in all of us. I’m grateful for inspired women like Sister Cook who strive to live the gospel and share its wisdom. I’m grateful for this life, for the miracle of our bodies and minds, and for the divinity within each of us.

At the end of his mission, Edward Angeles’s mission president encouraged him to pursue higher education when he returned to the Dominican Republic.
“I started BYU–Pathway right after I got home, and it was without a doubt one of the best decisions of my life,” he said. “I am on my first certificate in web and computer programming. I already had a job as a web developer. I got a salary increase, and I have been offered jobs at many other companies.”

In 1991 we moved into a small branch. Several months before our youngest son’s eighth birthday, my wife, the Primary president, asked him who he wanted to perform his baptism. Of course he wanted his father to perform the ordinance. My wife told him that probably was not going to happen. He did not accept that answer and set about the task of activating his father. He was quite relentless, and in short order I found myself serving as the Scoutmaster, and I later baptized and confirmed my son.

Many of these pioneers not only had walked away from comfortable homes and farms in Nauvoo and had buried babies in shallow graves on the plains, but they had also made other painful sacrifices because of the fire of faith and the commitment to their covenants that burned within their souls. One such was Catherine Spencer. When she joined the Church, her parents became embittered and angry, disowning her and refusing to allow her to ever return to their home or even to correspond with them. During the Saints’ final days in Nauvoo, Catherine became extremely ill. Fearing that she would not be able to survive the difficult journey west, her husband Orson Spencer wrote to her parents asking if they would not take her back into their home and nurse her back to health and care for her until Orson could establish a home in the west with the Church. No answer came to this heartfelt plea.

At last the time arrived for the Spencers to leave Nauvoo. A bed was made for Catherine in Orson’s wagon. As they traveled in the miserable conditions of March 1846, Catherine became sicker and increasingly weak. About five days out from Sugar Camp, they encountered a torrential freezing rainstorm that poured down through the canvas that covered their wagon. It was apparent that Catherine was failing fast. At this discouraging moment a messenger with the latest mail that had earlier arrived at Nauvoo found the couple. In his hand was a letter from Catherine’s parents. In the letter they expressed no interest in allowing her to come home or in caring for her unless, as they declared, she “renounce her degrading faith, and she can come back, but never until she does.” Without a murmur or complaint, the letter was folded up and put away, and Catherine asked Orson to get his Bible and read to her Ruth 1:16:

And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.

As Orson finished reading this passage, a calm, peaceful smile spread over Catherine’s face as she closed her eyes and lapsed into the quiet sleep of death.

Another example: A missionary in Pennsylvania came to me and said, “President, there is something I have not confessed—when I was a young man, I often stole.” “How much did you steal, elder?” “Oh, five or six hundred dollars worth of merchandise and sometimes money.” “Can you remember when you stole and from whom you stole?” “Yes, I can.”

I said, “Then pay it back.” The Spirit whispered to both of us that that is what he needed to do. “That means, elder, that you can’t serve as a leader since you can’t have an automobile, because every time you have another three or four or five dollars, you’re to send it home.”

He replied, “I understand, president.” Because of his family and other personal considerations, he said, “I can’t go to the people I stole from until I return. Would you mail the money back to them?” I said yes; and so I sent envelopes to my friends living in Chicago, New York, Pittsburgh, Saint Louis, and other cities, who would then forward the money in plain envelopes postmarked in cities far distant from where this elder was laboring.

About a year ago, I had the opportunity of sealing that young man in the temple; and one of the things he said was that the day his life really changed was when he had made full restitution. The Lord blessed him; he needed him to serve as a leader, but not for many months, because he needed to pay back that which he had taken.

Two of my closest friends hated each other, and they would put the other one down. One day I finally told each of them, “Well, she’s my friend, and I’d really feel a lot better if you’d just keep your comments to yourself because if you are going to make me choose between you, then you aren’t really my friends.” Now they are talking to each other and are friends.
Heather Sorensen, 17Roosevelt, Minnesota

Some years ago I had a most unusual experience while flying in a four-seat, single-engine airplane.
We were flying toward Salt Lake City, and it was one of those days when the smog and fog had settled over the valley very quickly.
We were still flying above the fog at 3,000 feet when our pilot radioed to air traffic control at the Salt Lake tower for instructions for our approach and landing.
He was an expert flier, but the plane didn’t have radar or the other sophisticated equipment that larger planes have.
The controller told our pilot that although the runway was closing down because of poor ground visibility, he would talk us down through the fast-accumulating dense fog if we wanted him to.
Our pilot turned to us and said, “What do you want to do? We can either be talked down by the traffic controller, or we can go back to Nevada and land and wait for the weather to clear in a day or two.” We all agreed that we should land in Salt Lake if at all possible.
It was a very interesting experience to sit in our small plane and listen to the instructions from the control tower to the pilot. The controller, through radar, could see where we were. He told our pilot when to lower our altitude and when to turn either right or left. We were now in such dense fog that we could not see anything at all and were totally under directions from the tower.
I remember thinking how completely dependent the four of us were on the expertise and knowledge of the controller, who could see us on the radar scope.
It was a remarkable experience, for even though we kept lowering our altitude, we could not see the ground at all.
At about 500 feet our pilot said to my friend who was sitting in the right front seat, “Now you watch for the runway, and when you see it, tell me.” The pilot concentrated on watching the instruments and following exactly the instructions he received from the air traffic controller. I was watching the altimeter.
Soon we were down to 400 feet, 350 feet, 300 feet—still we could see nothing. Then all of a sudden my friend in the front seat shouted, “I see the runway!”
We were all relieved as we looked out the windshield of the airplane. There, directly in front of us, was the runway, and the nose of our airplane was right on the white line in the center of it as we approached for landing. How grateful I was that someone in the tower had the experience and knowledge to give us careful instructions so we could safely land the plane!

In April 2010, Evelyn Vigil was concerned that her husband, Amado, was losing his faith. He had not attended any church for 11 years, having arrived at the conclusion that the true Church did not exist. Meanwhile, Evelyn had never stopped believing in God, and she went from one church to another, yearning to hear His word but never satisfied with what she heard. Some mornings she awoke in tears. On such days, she pled for guidance from her Heavenly Father. She asked Him why she never felt right in any of the churches she attended, even though she wanted so desperately to learn of Him. She also prayed that her family would someday find unity in one church.
“Our story began,” Amado recalls, “when we found a pair of elders—rather, when they found us. We were leaving the home of Evelyn’s parents, and we were carrying shopping bags. We noticed that the elders had seen us and were crossing the street toward us. One of them kindly asked if they could help us.
“They also asked if we would allow them to visit us. I said yes, mostly out of curiosity. Up to that point, I didn’t know much about the Church—only comments I had heard from other people.
“After I agreed to let the elders visit our home, I told my wife, ‘Don’t get too excited about this. Don’t get any illusions about me deciding to join a church. I’m just curious to see what they have to say.’
“The elders started visiting us. I was ready to politely tell them to go away if they said anything that didn’t seem right to me. But they were so kind, and I was impressed that they never said anything bad about other churches. They taught with such love and diligence, and they were patient when I asked many questions. They quickly endeared themselves to us.”
Bit by bit, Amado and Evelyn prepared themselves to be baptized and confirmed members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Evelyn’s biggest challenge was the Word of Wisdom. She was saddened by the realization that she would need to let go of her desire for coffee. Amado didn’t need to let go of any bad habits; he just needed to learn to grab hold of the truth. He believed what the missionaries were teaching, and he even recognized many doctrines and practices that he and his wife had felt were missing from other churches, such as eternal families, baptisms for the dead, and fellowship and organization in the Church. But he hesitated to commit to be baptized. He worried that he would join the Church only to find that he had made the wrong decision.
These concerns soon faded. Evelyn prayed for help and overcame her coffee habit, saying, “I’m not going to let this keep me from receiving blessings.” After about two months of indecision, Amado committed to be baptized. Now, according to Evelyn, he frequently says, “We need to embrace the doctrine.”
Amado, Evelyn, and Michelle were baptized and confirmed in early July 2010. “From the time that we were baptized,” Evelyn says, “I could feel that everything started to change. My family was united in the Church. We had found the restored gospel. We have had trials and sickness since then, but our Heavenly Father has poured many blessings on us.”
Amado observes: “The first change I noticed was unity in our family. It’s not that we were dysfunctional before, but we started to unite more. The doctrines of the gospel helped us. As Church leaders taught us about the sacredness of the family, we thought more about the value we should place on our family.”

One day my sister Zaylee and I played hide-and-seek and we got stuck in the closet under the stairs. It was summer and the closet was really hot. Then the light in the closet broke, and it got really dark. Zaylee and I cried and cried for help. My mom was outside and didn’t know we were stuck in the closet. I told my sister we should kneel down and pray to Heavenly Father. We asked that someone could come find us and let us out.
After we prayed, my mom came and found us. My mom told me that she had a feeling that something wasn’t right and that she needed to come check on us. I felt happy inside. I am glad God answered my prayer.

My name is Somaro Manning, and I am a professional building contractor in Jamaica. In October 2023, my business partner, Loren McDonald, a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and I had the opportunity to bid on and complete a Church humanitarian project in our area. Little did I know this opportunity would lead to my baptism into the Church.
My business partner, whom I consider to be my brother, would often nudge me, encouraging me to be baptized. After working on the humanitarian project and having in-depth conversations with strong men in the gospel, I met with the missionaries and saw how truthful and sincere they were in spreading the gospel of Christ. On November 6, 2023, I was baptized a member of the Church. My wife is not yet a member, but my hope is that she will accept the gospel soon so that she, too, can experience the joy and blessings that the gospel brings.

Sister Jodi King wrote of her own experience of past years:
“I never felt like I didn’t belong at church until my husband, Cameron, and I began struggling with infertility. The children and families who had typically brought me joy to see at church now started causing me grief and pain.
“I felt barren without a child in my arms or a diaper bag in hand. …
“The hardest Sunday was our first one in a new ward. Because we didn’t have kids, we were asked if we were newlyweds and when we planned on starting a family. I had gotten pretty good at answering these questions without letting them affect me—I knew they weren’t meant to be hurtful.
“However, on this particular Sunday, answering those questions was especially hard. We had just found out, after being hopeful, that we were—yet again—not pregnant.
“I walked into sacrament meeting feeling downtrodden, and answering those typical ‘get to know you’ questions was hard for me. …
“But it was Sunday School that truly broke my heart. The lesson—intended to be about the divine role of mothers—quickly shifted gears and became a vent[ing] session. My heart sank and tears silently flowed down my cheeks as I heard women complain about a blessing I would give anything for.
“I bolted out of church. At first, I didn’t want to go back. I didn’t want to experience that feeling of isolation again. But that night, after talking with my husband, we knew we would keep attending church not only because the Lord has asked us to but also because we both knew that the joy that comes from renewing covenants and feeling the Spirit at church surpasses the sadness I felt that day. …
“In the Church, there are widowed, divorced, and single members; those with family members who have fallen away from the gospel; people with chronic illnesses or financial struggles; members who experience same-sex attraction; members working to overcome addictions or doubts; recent converts; new move-ins; empty-nesters; and the list goes on and on. …
“The Savior invites us to come unto Him—no matter our circumstances. We come to church to renew our covenants, to increase our faith, to find peace, and to do as He did perfectly in His life—minister to others who feel like they don’t belong.”

Not long afterward, John told me he was coming to the San Francisco Bay Area with a singing group from Brigham Young University.
“I’d love to see you,” he said, suggesting we meet at the California Oakland Temple.
Driving around the Bay Area at night, I would often see the temple. It appealed to me spiritually, so I read about it and wanted to go inside. John and I met early one morning on the temple grounds. After our visit, he said it was time for his group to enter the temple.
“Randy, you won’t be able to enter the temple,” John told me.
“I know, I’m a hippie,” I replied, “but I’ve studied Eastern religions, I’m a vegetarian, I live in a commune where we share everything, and I have $20. How much could admission be?”
“Far more than that,” John answered. “You’re not good enough.”
At the time, I considered myself intellectually, philosophically, and spiritually advanced. How could I not be good enough?
For several years, my parents didn’t know where I was. They were good people who tried to give me the best education possible and were understandably disappointed by my choices. When my father became ill, my mother persuaded me to return home to Washington, D.C. When I arrived, John found me a job on a crew building the Washington D.C. Temple.
I didn’t know it, but he had arranged for me to work with a crew of returned missionaries. I was stunned that John Howell, the lead foreman, would ask a crew member to pray at the start of each day’s work—something I had never seen with crews I had worked with previously.
One day at work, several of us were mounting one of the temple’s heavy front doors when it fell and smashed my finger as thin as a dime. John hurried over, looked at my finger, called for some consecrated oil, and gave me a blessing. My finger healed so quickly that I didn’t need to see a doctor.
On another occasion, I was given a razor blade and told to scrape bits of debris off the concrete floors.
“Why?” I asked one of our crew members. “Aren’t they putting carpet down?”
“Randy, you don’t know whose house this is, do you?” he responded. “We’re perfecting it for the Perfect One.”
The world was drowning in cynicism, bitterness, hatred, and fear, but the example and teachings of the young men I worked with filled me with hope. As crew members shared their beliefs with me, I knew they were being honest and authentic. They had given two years of their lives to serve others, and they were intelligently optimistic. I wanted their teachings to be true. I felt I was gaining the enlightenment I had been seeking and that the Lord was preparing me spiritually.
John Howell suggested I meet with the full-time missionaries. Instead, I opted to have my brother and one of his friends, another returned missionary, teach me. As they taught me, I wanted external, incontrovertible evidence that what I was learning was true. Without that proof, I didn’t want any further discussions.
When I asked how they knew the truth, they replied, “We have read and prayed and felt a witness from the Holy Ghost.” They told me I needed that same witness.
That night I went into a grove of trees near my neighborhood. I don’t know how long I prayed, but I did so with absolute intent. I repeatedly asked God the same four questions: “Is the Book of Mormon the word of God? Did You and Your Son appear to Joseph Smith? Is this the true Church of Jesus Christ? Am I good enough to be a member?”
The answer to each question came in a whisper to my soul—“Yes”—four times. Those whispers were accompanied by serene and sublime feelings.
With my head bowed, kneeling in prayer and drenched with tears, I exclaimed: “If this is the answer You will give to me, then I accept it and will commit my life fully to You and this gospel as You reveal it to me.” Words cannot express the thoughts, feelings, and truths that enveloped me.
The witness I received that night was incontrovertible, and it’s as strong now as it was then. Since that prayer, God has proved those answers to me in thousands of miraculous and practical ways.
“The Church is a miracle,” says Randy, pictured here a month after his baptism. “And my life in the Church has been miraculous.”
Soon after I was baptized in 1974, I attended my first general conference in Salt Lake City with my brother, John. I was surprised when Elder Boyd K. Packer (1924–2015) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, who had met my aunt in New York City three weeks before that conference, referred to John and me during his Sunday morning talk.
Quoting my aunt, Elder Packer said: “Two of my nephews have joined your Church. I can hardly believe the change that it’s made in their lives.”
Because of that profound change (see Alma 5:14), a fire burned inside me that I wanted to share. Soon, I found myself in Idaho as a full-time missionary. Halfway through my mission, my father, who was my greatest hero and best friend, passed away. My mother called my mission president and asked that I come home to give a eulogy. When my mission president left the decision up to me whether to leave, I told him I wanted to pray and fast for 24 hours before deciding.
That night I had a dream. My father appeared to me. In the midst of sublime and meaningful discussions with him, he told me, “Son, stay on your mission.”
I followed Dad’s counsel and stayed.
Because of the profound change that followed his conversion, “a fire burned inside” Randy that he wanted to share as a full-time missionary.
Six months after my mission, I held my mother’s hand as she took her last breath. Decades later, my wife, Lisa, found a letter from my parents in an old box. Dad had written it to me during my mission but died before sending it.
“Our hearts were and are and always will be full of love for you. I realize that things have not always been perfect, but that is life. … Christ did not say, ‘Follow me and it will be easy.’ He said, ‘Take up [your] cross, and follow me’ [Matthew 16:24]. He carried the cross, but we all have our splinters. Perhaps our place in heaven will depend upon how we handle ours. Son, we love you very much.”
Growing up, I was rough on my parents, but I never doubted their love. Since finding the Church, I have worked hard to thank them and honor them.
On February 17, 2018, two weeks before the Washington D.C. Temple closed for renovation, I was sealed to my father and mother, 42 years after they had passed through the veil into eternity. My oldest son, Randall, acted as proxy for my father, and Lisa acted as proxy for my mother. I felt that my parents, who had been sealed to each other earlier, were both there in spirit.
In the temple we find cords that bind us forever to our loved ones. I am certain of that.
When I was young, I didn’t want to get married or have children. But today my wife, children, and grandchildren are my greatest treasures. The Church is a miracle, and my life in the Church has been miraculous. With Joseph Smith, I say, “If I had not experienced what I have, I would not have believed it myself.”
Fifty years ago, I was a construction worker on the Washington D.C. Temple. I was convinced that my life had no happy future. Today I am an ordinance worker in that same temple, having accepted the Lord’s invitation to follow Him, receive His healing, embrace His ordinances, and strive to become like Him.
Randy and his wife, Lisa, serve in the Washington D.C. Temple, which he helped build 50 years ago.
Photograph by Leslie Nilsson
The restored Church is not a theory, a philosophy, or merely a community or culture. It is the true Church of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
I thought I would find what I was looking for in San Francisco. I didn’t. I found it in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and in the house of the Lord, “the crowning jewel of the Restoration.”

Almost all of us have seen a battlefield portrayed in a film or read the description in a story. Over the din of explosions and the shouts of soldiers, there comes a cry, “Man down!”

When that cry sounds, faithful fellow soldiers will move toward the sound. Another soldier or a medic will ignore danger and move to the injured comrade. And the man down will know that help will come. Whatever the risk, someone will run low or crawl to get there in time to protect and give aid. That is true in every band of men joined in a difficult and dangerous mission which they are determined to fulfill at any sacrifice. The histories of such groups are full of stories of those loyal men who were determined that no man would be left behind.
Here is one instance from an official account. During fighting in Somalia in October of 1993, two United States Army Rangers in a helicopter during the firefight learned that two other helicopters near them had fallen to the earth. The two rangers, in their relative safety aloft, learned by radio that no ground forces were available to rescue one of the downed aircrews. Growing numbers of the enemy were closing in on the crash site.
The two men watching from above volunteered to go down to the ground (the words they used on the radio were to “be inserted”) to protect their critically wounded comrades. Their request was denied because the situation was so dangerous. They asked a second time. Permission was again denied. Only after their third request were they put down on the ground.
Armed only with their personal weapons, they fought their way to the crashed helicopter and the injured fliers. They moved through intense small arms fire as enemies converged on the crash site. They pulled the wounded from the wreckage. They put themselves in a perimeter around the wounded, placing themselves in the most dangerous positions. They protected their comrades until their ammunition was depleted and they were fatally wounded. Their bravery and their sacrifice saved the life of a pilot who would have been lost.
They were each awarded posthumously the Medal of Honor, their nation’s highest recognition for bravery in the face of an armed enemy. The citation reads that what they did was “above and beyond the call of duty.”
But I wonder if they saw it that way as they moved to the downed airmen. Out of loyalty they felt a duty to stand by their fellow soldiers, whatever the cost. The courage to act and their selfless service came from feeling that they were responsible for the lives, the happiness, and the safety of comrades.
Such a feeling of responsibility for others is at the heart of faithful priesthood service. Our comrades are being wounded in the spiritual conflict around us. So are the people we are called to serve and protect from harm. Spiritual wounds are not easily visible, except with inspired eyes. But bishops, branch presidents, and mission presidents sitting before fellow disciples of the Savior can see the wounded and the wounds.
It has happened for years and across the earth. I remember as a bishop looking out at the face and the posture of a young man of the priesthood and having the thought come to my mind so clearly that it seemed audible: “I need to see him—and soon. Something is happening. He needs help.”
I would never put off such an impression because I had learned that the wounds of sin are often not felt at first by the one being hurt. Satan seems sometimes to inject something to deaden the spiritual pain while inflicting the wound. Unless something happens soon to begin repentance, the wound can worsen and widen.
Consequently, as a priesthood holder responsible for the spiritual survival of some of Heavenly Father’s children, you will then move to help without waiting for a cry, “Man down!” Even a best friend or other leaders or parents may not see what you have seen.
You may have been the only one to sense by inspiration the warning cry. The others may feel, as you will be tempted to think, “Maybe the trouble I thought I saw is just my imagination. What right do I have to judge another? It’s not my responsibility. I’ll leave it alone until he asks for help.”
Only an authorized judge in Israel is given the power and the responsibility to verify that there is a serious wound, to explore it, and then, under inspiration from God, to prescribe the necessary treatment for healing to begin. Yet you are under covenant to go to a spiritually wounded child of God. You are responsible to be brave enough and bold enough not to turn away.
I need to explain, as best I can, at least two things. First, why do you have a responsibility to move to help your wounded friend? And, second, how do you meet that responsibility?
First, you are under covenant, as has been made clear to you, that when you accepted the trust from God to receive the priesthood, you accepted a responsibility for whatever you might do or fail to do for the salvation of others, however difficult and dangerous that might appear to be for you.
There are countless examples of priesthood holders who shouldered that grave responsibility as you and I must. This is how Jacob in the Book of Mormon described his sacred trust when he moved in difficult circumstances to give aid: “Now, my beloved brethren, I, Jacob, according to the responsibility which I am under to God, to magnify mine office with soberness, and that I might rid my garments of your sins, I come up into the temple this day that I might declare unto you the word of God.”
Now, you might object that Jacob was a prophet and you are not. But your office, whatever it is in the priesthood, brings with it an obligation to “lift up the hands which hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees” of those around you. You are the Lord’s servant covenanted to do for others, as best you can, what He would do.
Your great opportunity and your responsibility are described in Ecclesiastes:
“Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour.
“For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up.”
From that, you will understand the true and sobering words from Joseph Smith: “None but fools will trifle with the souls of men.” As Jacob believed, the woe of any fallen man or woman he could have helped and did not would become his own sorrow. Your happiness and that of those you are called to serve as a priesthood holder are bound together.
Now we come to the question of how best to help those you are called to serve and rescue. That will depend on your capacities and on the nature of your priesthood relationship to the person who is in spiritual peril. Let me give three cases which may be your opportunity at times in your priesthood service.
Let’s start when you are an inexperienced junior companion, a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood assigned with a seasoned companion to visit a young family. Before preparing for the visit, you will pray for strength and inspiration to see their needs and know what help you could give. If you can, you will have that prayer with your companion, naming those you will visit. As you pray, your heart will be drawn out to them personally and to God. You and your companion will agree on what you hope to accomplish. You will work out a plan for what you will do.
Whatever the plan, you will watch and listen with great intensity and humility during the visit. You are young and inexperienced. But the Lord knows their spiritual state and their needs perfectly. He loves them. And because you know He sends you to act for Him, you can have faith that you can sense their needs and what you can do to meet your charge to help. It will come as you visit face-to-face in their home. That is why you have this priesthood charge in the Doctrine and Covenants: “Visit the house of each member, and exhort them to pray vocally and in secret and attend to all family duties.”
And then you have an added charge which takes even greater discernment:
“The teacher’s duty is to watch over the church always, and be with and strengthen them;
“And see that there is no iniquity in the church, neither hardness with each other, neither lying, backbiting, nor evil speaking;
“And see that the church meet together often, and also see that all the members do their duty.”
You and your companion will rarely receive inspiration to know the details of the degree to which they are meeting that standard. But I can promise you from experience that you will be given the gift to know what is well with them. And from that you will be able to encourage them. There is another promise I can make: you and your companion will be inspired to know what changes they could make to begin the spiritual healing they need. The words of what you are charged to have happen in their lives will almost certainly contain some of the most important changes the Lord would have them make.
If your companion feels an impression to urge change, watch what he does. You will likely be surprised at the way the Spirit guides him to speak. There will be the sound of love in his voice. He will find a way to tie the needed change with a blessing that will follow. If it is the father or mother who needs to make a change, he may show how it would lead to happiness for the children. He will describe the change as a move away from unhappiness to a better and safer place.
Your contribution during the visit may seem to you small, but it can be more powerful than you may think possible. You will show by your face and manner that you care for the people. They will see that your love for them and the Lord makes you unafraid. And you will be bold enough to bear your testimony to truth. Your humble, simple, and perhaps brief testimony may touch the heart of a person more easily than that of your more experienced companion. I have seen it happen.
Whatever part you play in that priesthood visit, your desire to go to the people for the Lord to help them will bring at least two blessings. First, you will feel the love of God for the people you visit. And, second, you will feel the Savior’s gratitude for your desire to give the help the Savior knew they needed.
He sent you to them because He trusted that you would go feeling responsible to urge them toward Him and toward happiness.
As you grow a little older, there is another opportunity which will come to you in priesthood service. You will come to know your fellow quorum members well. You may have played basketball or football or shared some youth activities and service projects. With some you will have become close friends.
You will have come to recognize when they are happy and when they are sad. Neither of you may be in a position of authority in the quorum. But you will feel responsible for your fellow member in the priesthood. He may confide in you that he is beginning to break a commandment which you know will do him spiritual harm. He may ask for advice because he trusts you.
I can tell you from experience that if you succeed in influencing him away from a dangerous path, you will never forget the joy which came from being his true friend. If you do not succeed, I promise that when his grief and sadness come, as they will, you will feel his pain as if it were your own. Yet if you tried to help, you will still be his friend. And, in fact, for years he may talk with you about what good things there might have been and how grateful he is that you cared enough to try. You will comfort him then and invite him again, as you did in your youth, to come back to the happiness which the Atonement still makes possible for him.
Now, later in your life you will be a father—a priesthood father. What you have learned in your priesthood service as you helped others away from sadness and toward happiness will give you the power you will need and want. Years of being responsible for the souls of men will prepare you for helping and protecting your family, whom you will love more than you can imagine in your youth. You will know how to lead them with priesthood power to safety.
My prayer is that you will have joy in your priesthood service throughout your life and forever. I pray that you will develop the bravery and love for Heavenly Father’s children that led the sons of Mosiah to plead for the chance to face death and danger to take the gospel to a hardened people. Their desire and their bravery came from feeling responsible for the eternal happiness of strangers in danger of eternal misery.
May we have a part of the desire which Jehovah had, in the world before this one, when He asked to come down from the realms of glory to serve us and give His life for us. He asked His Father, “Send me.”
I testify that you were called of God and you are sent to serve His children. He wants that no one be left behind. President Monson holds the keys of the priesthood in all the earth. God will give you inspiration and strength to meet your charge to help His children find their way to the happiness made possible by the Atonement of Jesus Christ. I so testify to you in the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.