Gospel Story Finder

Sister Rita was baptized in August 2018 by her son, Brother Debdeep. She came to know about the Church from his son who became a member while staying in Texas. After investigating the Church for few weeks and learning about the gospel, Sister Rita was inspired to take the decision to be baptized. It is a joy to watch her grow strong in her testimony and her hunger to learn more about our Savior every day, something which President Nelson invited us to do in his counsel “Our focus must be riveted on the Savior and His gospel. It is mentally rigorous to strive to look unto Him in every thought. But when we do, our doubts and fears flee.” (Russell M. Nelson, “Drawing the Power of Jesus Christ into Our Lives,” Apr. 2017 General Conference; Liahona, May 2017).

When my father-in-law passed away, our family gathered together to greet others who came to pay their respects. Throughout the evening, as I visited with family and friends, I often noticed our 10-year-old grandson, Porter, standing near my mother-in-law—his “granny.” Sometimes he was standing behind her, watching over her. Once I noticed his arm linked with hers. I watched him pat her hands, give her little hugs, and stand by her side.
For several days after that experience, I couldn’t get this image out of my mind. I was prompted to send Porter a note, telling him what I had observed. I emailed him and told him what I had seen and felt. I reminded Porter of the covenants he had made when he was baptized, quoting Alma’s words in Mosiah chapter 18:
“And now, as ye are desirous to come into the fold of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light;
“Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in, even until death, … that ye may have eternal life—
“… If this be the desire of your hearts, what have you against being baptized in the name of the Lord, as a witness before him that ye have entered into a covenant with him, that ye will serve him and keep his commandments, that he may pour out his Spirit more abundantly upon you?”
I explained to Porter that Alma taught that those who want to be baptized need to be willing to serve the Lord by serving others—for your whole life! I said: “I don’t know if you realized it, but the way you showed love and concern for Granny was keeping your covenants. We keep our covenants every day as we are kind, show love, and take care of each other. I just wanted you to know I’m proud of you for being a covenant keeper! As you keep the covenant you made when you were baptized, you will be prepared to be ordained to the priesthood. This additional covenant will give you more opportunities to bless and serve others and help you to prepare for the covenants you will make in the temple. Thank you for being such a good example to me! Thank you for showing me what it looks like to be a covenant keeper!”
Porter replied back: “Grandma, thanks for the message. When I was always hugging Granny, I didn’t know that I was keeping my covenants, but I felt warm in my heart and felt really good. I know that it was the Holy Ghost in my heart.”
I also felt warm in my heart when I realized that Porter had connected keeping his covenants with the promise to “always have his Spirit to be with [us]”—a promise made possible by receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost.

As a boy, I had a lot of chores to do. With 13 brothers and sisters, there was plenty of work to go around. One of my jobs was to ride our horse, Old Smoky, and herd the cows to pasture. The only problem was that there wasn’t much green grass for the cows to graze on. It hadn’t rained for some time, and the land was dry and dusty.
One day, I noticed a patch of green grass growing beside the train tracks, underneath the railroad water tower. “I bet the cows will like that,” I thought. I clucked to Old Smoky. “C’mon, boy.”
Old Smoky was smart, and as long as I was riding him, he did what I wanted him to with very few instructions. But if he ever escaped, it was tricky to catch him. He liked running free and avoided being put to work.
When the cows were all busy nibbling next to the tracks, I slid off Old Smoky and sat on his reins so he couldn’t get away. Soon I was busy making necklaces out of snakeweeds, and I didn’t notice the reins slip out from under me as Old Smoky wandered away.
Suddenly, I heard a heart-stopping sound—the whistle of a big, black locomotive. I looked up to see the cows scattered all over the tracks. My family was very poor, and I knew that if any of our cows were killed it would mean disaster.
I leaped toward Old Smoky, but he danced away from me. I couldn’t herd the cows to safety without a horse!
The sound of the approaching train got louder. Panicking, I remembered what I had learned from my mother and my Primary teacher. I dropped to my knees right where I was and prayed. “Heavenly Father,” I cried, “please help me clear the cows off the tracks!”
Just then, the strangest thought came to my mind: “Look at how the cows wander past Old Smoky and he doesn’t run away. Pretend you’re a cow and crawl to him.” I was already on my knees, so I put my hands on the ground, too. On all fours, I crept toward Old Smoky. He didn’t budge. I grabbed his reins, stood up, and leaped on his back. Racing like the wind, Old Smoky herded the cows away from the tracks. He seemed even faster and smarter than usual. By the time the train blasted by, the cows were safely in the pasture.
I knew that Heavenly Father had answered my prayer and spared my family from tragedy. Only He knew that I could save my herd by pretending to be a cow.

One Sunday morning Ho-jik Kim was teaching a Sunday School class when the president of Korea, Syngman Rhee, sent his secretary to get him. Dr. Kim was the vice minister of education at the time, and President Rhee wanted to discuss an important matter with him.

Arriving at the LDS meetinghouse, the secretary found Dr. Kim in Sunday School and urged him to go at once to see the president. Brother Kim said he could not leave until he had taught his Sunday School lesson.

Afterward, when Brother Kim met with the president, he was criticized for being late. Dr. Kim explained to the president the importance of his calling as a Sunday School teacher. President Rhee, realizing how much the Church meant to Dr. Kim, patted him on the shoulder and said, “Chalhaeso!” (You have done well!)

Before sharing this final story, it's important to mention that this took place in Ecuador, in the 1990s. I want to emphasize that everything turned out okay.

My mission companion and I found ourselves in the countryside, about 5 or 10 miles outside of town, as the sun began to sink toward the horizon. Facing a long walk back, we decided to hitchhike from a busy road. Within minutes, a bus pulled over, and the driver called for us to hop on.

I was unsure about the offer, seeing the bus was full of passengers. So full that some were clinging to the outside of the bus. Instead of squeezing inside, we made a quick decision to climb onto the roof, where bundles of produce and luggage were secured to a metal rack. Within moments, I found myself on top of a bus speeding down a winding Ecuadorian highway. Leaning back against a bunch of plantains, I gripped the metal bars, questioning my life choices at that moment.

However, my initial regret dissipated as the once hot and humid air became a cool, refreshing wind. I began to marvel at the lush, rolling hills from the elevated vantage point and unobstructed view. The bus made a turn near the crest of a hill, revealing an even more breathtaking scene. The sun's golden glow bathed the landscape, casting light over the town and the distant ocean coast. The sun and clouds near the horizon painted an unforgettable sunset. At that moment, my heart swelled with gratitude, offering a brief but powerful glimpse of Heavenly Father's love for me and all His children.

I've reflected on this moment many times and feel it lines up with my message today.
When these three things came together, I felt the Spirit in a powerful way that has stuck with me and sustained me for many years since.

If you’re involved in sports, you’ve probably heard this: You can’t afford to take two years off for a mission. You’ll lose your scholarship, you’ll lose your skills, and you’ll lose your edge. You won’t have the fire for the sport anymore.
Nate Soelberg can tell you that those warnings are not true.
Nate was a standout in track and football while he was in high school. In college he not only ran, he also worked hard to eventually earn a spot on the football team—and then he left it behind so he could serve as a missionary in Norway for two years.
Some people wondered if he would be able to get back into form again when he came home. Nate wondered a bit too. But, he says, “I knew if I followed the Lord, He would bless me, that it wasn’t going to be a major setback.”
After his mission, he was able to earn a starting spot as cornerback on the Brigham Young University football team and a scholarship. On the track, the spring after he returned from his mission, he kept cutting his times in the 100 meters until he ended the season winning the conference championship. “Every single race I got better,” he says.
So was there some connection between the spiritual strength he gained while serving a mission and recapturing his physical ability? Nate thinks so: “I believe it was one of the blessings I had from going on a mission and serving the Lord.”
The successes came at a price, of course: hard work. Staying in shape for competitive sports “takes a toll on your body,” Nate says. After workouts, “it’s really hard to come home and do anything. You just want to rest.” He has developed the habit of doing his homework between classes during the day to keep up. “I’ve learned to manage my time wisely.”
Nate started in sports at age five when he played on a T-ball team. Later, he enjoyed playing basketball. He started track competition in junior high school and joined the football team his first year in high school.
He started preparing for his mission at a young age, too. “Sometimes in my life, I felt nervous about going, but I always knew I wanted to go.”
Norway was cold, in more than one way. He remembers looking at his reflection in a window and seeing frost in his eyebrows and ice on his eyelashes. He remembers serving for two years and having just one baptism, near the end. And he remembers how much he enjoyed it all.
“Most people think it’s just hard work, which it is.” But Nate was surprised at how good it made him feel to serve others. It made him happy to work with members. They “just embrace the missionaries,” he said. Their friendship was warm when it was cold everywhere else.
Did he ever get discouraged? “It’s hard not to,” Nate says. “I just kind of stuck it through. I don’t really hold on to things that discourage me. I put them in the past and move on.” And if a week was hard, he knew things would be better on Sunday when the missionaries could meet with members. “It was never a bad day at church.”
Nate’s dad, Steve Soelberg, says his son learned a lot about hard work from winning and losing when he was younger. “He knows that to get the wins you have to work for them.”
Nate also knows that you don’t win, no matter what the scoreboard says, if you’re not living the way the Lord wants you to. “If your mind isn’t in tune with the Lord, it is hard for the Lord to help you, and I know athletes need the help.”
Everyone needs help, he says. Nate prays often, for help in life, for help in doing his best on the field, for protection from injuries. He prays not just for himself, but for those around him too.
“I feel like I have help from the Lord. I just try to live so I’ll be worthy of it.”
Now Nate prays also for the family he is just beginning. He married Jessica Ashcroft in April this year.
Just because he prays, he doesn’t always win—at least not on the scoreboard. “There are things sometimes that don’t go my way, and I know I need to learn from those.” When that happens, he does what he did in the mission field: he learns, he puts the hard times behind him, and he moves on.

During Christmastime on my mission, I was undergoing some health problems, and my companion was a new missionary. She was not happy and wanted to go home. We were walking 8 to 10 miles (13–16 km) every day, and both of us had painful blisters.
I soon became depressed and discouraged, believing that I was a bad missionary and that all of my companion’s problems were my fault. We were a miserable pair. I had been so excited about the upcoming holiday, but now I dreaded it. It loomed before me dark, cold, and lonely.
My district leader saw my struggles and offered this advice: “Keep your mind off the pain. Do whatever it takes to give your companion the Christmas spirit.” I trusted my district leader and knew he was right, so I determined that I would try to get the right spirit in both of our hearts.
I remember one dark, cold evening. We were walking down the road, and my companion began to cry. Immediately, I felt as if I had been swallowed by darkness, and I wanted to give up. But I remembered my promise and asked the Lord what I could do to help this sister. The answer that came was unexpected, but I acted promptly. I began to sing Christmas carols as loudly as I could. People kept staring at me, but I felt a strange lightness in my heart that couldn’t be subdued. My companion begged me to stop. But I told her I would not until she joined me. So she did, and we sang several songs. My companion smiled at me and seemed to enjoy the rest of the evening.
That experience was the start of an amazing holiday. It was still hard at times, but whenever the mood began to turn dismal, I threatened to start singing. That always seemed to lighten the mood.
I do not have a great singing voice, and I hate singing in front of people. But that night I was singing at the top of my lungs for all of the Bronx to hear. That Christmas I learned that we celebrate the birth of a Savior who lives today and still works for our salvation. He knows what each of us needs and how to give it to us. I will never forget the Christmas that He let me sing in His personal choir. It changed Christmas for me!
Christie Mobley served in the New York New York North Mission; she is a member of the Snowflake Seventh (YSA) Branch, Snowflake Arizona Stake.

As a young man having just finished my first year of college and needing to earn money for a desired mission, I spent the summer working at the new Jackson Lake Lodge in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Many college-age youths came to work in that pristine, beautiful area.
One such person was Jill, a young woman from San Francisco, California. Feeling that a young woman from a big city might be a little bit naive about her new environment, I and a few friends felt it our obligation to teach her about the ways of the real West. We decided to take her on a “snipe hunt.” For those of you who may not be familiar with a snipe hunt, it is a practical joke, as there is no such thing as a snipe, at least not in the western United States. The tools necessary for a snipe hunt are a stick and a cloth bag. The “hunter” is told to go through the brush, beating the bushes with a stick while calling the snipe in a high-pitched, ridiculous voice. The nonexistent snipes are thus to be driven into the cloth bag.
We gave Jill her cloth bag and a stick and an area to hunt across the hill. The plan was to return to our starting point in about 15 minutes, at which time we would supposedly count our snipes.
When she did not return at the appointed time, we gloated and took delight in the seriousness with which she took her hunt. After about 30 minutes, we felt it was time to rescue her, explain the joke, have a good laugh, and all go to dinner. However, it became apparent that she had taken her snipe hunt more seriously than we had expected—she was not to be found in her assigned area. After searching rather extensively and still finding no evidence of her, we began moving into the woods, calling for her at the top of our voices, but to no avail.
Hoping she might have gone back to her dormitory, we returned and asked some young women to search for her there, but this also was to no avail. It was now turning dark, and our concern heightened. We enlisted all the young men we could from the boys’ dormitory and with flashlights continued the search deep into the woods. Well into the darkness of night—frightened, concerned, and hoarse from calling—we decided it was now time to report our ridiculous deed to the park rangers. While we were standing in front of the dorms, trying to determine which brave soul would have the privilege of reporting her disappearance, Jill suddenly appeared—not from her dormitory, but rather from that of a friend with whom she had enjoyed dinner (which we incidentally missed) and a comfortable evening with her friends. Her first words to us as she approached said it all: “How do you fellows like hunting snipe hunters?” Well, so much for big city naïveté, and so much for the ways of the real West. The joke was on us, and I have never had a desire for any more snipe hunting.

Then recently, half a world away, I sat with another good man. He had brought light and warmth and good humor into the room with him, and I was listening with deep interest as he told his “before and after” story. The “before” involved his life as a nominal but nonpracticing Christian employed in a stressful occupation with rough associates and with a tendency to follow the crowd in all their bad habits. He was not attentive to his wife and children, was worried about his family, suffered from an unhappy conscience, and had developed a serious physical ailment.
Then two young men came to his door. They represented the Lord, they said, with a message of eternal truth for him and his family: the gospel of Jesus Christ is restored to the earth, the church of Jesus Christ reestablished; every individual and every family are important to God and through his plan can find purpose and meaning; families are meant to be together forever; and there is a way to know for oneself the truth of these things, they said, for the Holy Spirit will confirm the knowledge for those who sincerely seek.
He listened and believed. Immediately he put aside bad habits. His wife and children responded also. Their lives changed. They studied and prayed and worshiped, joined the Church, and lived in the light of the Spirit. His work improved, and soon new opportunities and trust and renewed reputation for dependability resulted.
At the conclusion of his story came a ringing declaration of faith, without self-consciousness, without bluster, without guile. “I am like the Lord in one thing,” he said; “my specialty is mercy.”
My specialty is mercy!

I had a sense of this truth a few months ago when I was walking one day and suddenly my sight became blurry, dark, and wavy. I was scared. Then the doctors told me, “If you don’t begin treatment immediately, you may lose your sight even in a matter of weeks.” I was even more scared.
And then they said, “You need intravitreal injections—injections right in the eye, wide-open eye—every four weeks for the rest of your life.”
That was an uncomfortable wake-up call.
Then a reflection came in the form of a question. I asked myself, “OK! My physical sight is not good, but what about my spiritual vision? Do I need any treatment there? And what does it mean to have a clear spiritual vision?”
So is my spiritual sight clear as I get my eye injections? Well, who am I to say? But I am grateful for what I see.
I clearly see the hand of the Lord in this sacred work and in my life.
I see the faith of many wherever I go who strengthen my own faith.
I see angels all around me.
I see the faith of many who don’t see the Lord physically but recognize Him spiritually, because they know Him intimately.
I testify that this gospel is the answer for everything, because Jesus Christ is the answer for everyone. I am grateful for what I can see as I follow my Savior.

We often hear the phrase “Trust in the Lord,” but what does that really mean when life gets complicated? For me, it was tested during my first year of nursing school at St. Paul University Dumaguete.
I was invited to serve as part of the health team for FSY 2022 in Bacolod. Though I was still a student, I felt honored and excited to help. But two weeks before the event, I discovered that FSY’s opening day fell on the same day as my final exams. I was torn. I wanted to serve, but I also needed to fulfill my academic responsibilities.
So I prayed, asking the Lord to help me find a way. The answer came quietly but clearly: Go.
I asked the FSY coordinators if I could travel solo to Bacolod after my exams. To my surprise, they said yes. That was the first miracle.
On exam day, my dad drove me to school. As we passed the FSY buses, I jokingly said, “Sana all!” He replied, “Just do your part, and God will do the rest.” Normally, I’m the last to finish tests, but that day I was done by 10 a.m.—miracle two.
Then came a twist: an announcement about additional face-to-face exams in the afternoon. I felt crushed. But after another prayer, a second announcement followed—the exams were moved online. Miracle three.
I rushed to the gate, praying for a ride. Just then, an empty bus heading toward Bacolod pulled up. Miracle four.
While traveling through the mountains of Mabinay, I received a message: the online exam would start in 30 minutes. That area had no signal. I prayed again. Suddenly, my phone showed full 5G. I joined the call, completed the exam, and submitted it. As soon as I logged off, the signal vanished. Miracle five.
I arrived in Bacolod safely and on time. Miracle six.
During FSY, seven youth developed high fevers. The health team and I stayed up all night caring for them— checking vitals, doing bed baths, and praying. By morning, all had recovered. Miracle seven.
On the way home, I checked for signal in the same mountain spot. Nothing. Brother Romil confirmed, “That place never has signal.” That moment reaffirmed everything. The Lord had truly intervened.

Upon embarking on graduate studies, I grappled with feelings of guilt, as if I were prioritizing personal growth over dedicating myself to nurturing my family. To me, this felt like an either-or situation. Pursuing education felt indulgent. During our graduate studies, a dilemma surfaced regarding how both my husband and I could simultaneously pursue our educations. At this juncture I had developed a profound love for statistical human genetics intertwined with biomedical informatics, yet I struggled to envision a path forward to complete my degree.

I turned to God in prayer even as I wrestled with the idea of seeking His guidance on what seemed a selfish pursuit. I expected God to kindly encourage me to let go of this pursuit and focus on my family and my husband’s education. There are only a few times in my life when I have experienced clear, unequivocal divine revelation, and this was one of those times. But it was not the response that I expected.

The response from my Heavenly Father was simply and boldly “Don’t quit.” While this directive was unmistakable, it left me bewildered, lacking direction in how to move forward. I pondered the adage “When one door closes, another opens,” but I didn’t see any doors that could open. Despite receiving clear divine guidance, I found myself in a dark period of my life, grappling with how to proceed without apparent avenues for progress. With fervent prayers, the prompting persisted: “Don’t quit.” This came with no additional knowledge of how to not quit.

Ryan and I sought advice from our parents, friends, other relatives, and bishop. We prayed. We went to the temple. We searched the scriptures. Over the course of a month, a couple of things took shape. Besides the prompting “Don’t quit,” Ryan and I felt drawn to the story of the brother of Jared that I mentioned earlier.

After our pondering, my husband and I presented our offering to God and asked Him to direct our path. Instead of clear stones, our offering was a calendar filled with dates of me commuting between Texas and Tennessee while Ryan was in school, then both of us traveling to Tennessee on Ryan’s school breaks. We presented this offering and asked God to bless this plan so that we both would be able to continue our education and receive our degrees and, more important, so that our relationship would not suffer from all the time apart. We asked God that we, who were poor graduate students, would have the resources and fortitude to do this plan. We felt comfort that God accepted our offering and would bless it. After receiving the necessary academic approvals, we set out to follow this path.

Fast forward three years: after many, many flights and miles on our car, plus one baby, I graduated with my PhD. After three more years and one more baby, Ryan also received his PhD. God did bless our plan. Academically, we were able to excel. Our families were incredibly supportive. We had many friends in both states who helped us, whether by letting me stay with them when traveling on my own or by being willing to develop deep friendships with someone who was out of state half of the time. Our traveling and education did not harm Ryan’s and my relationship; instead, by having to communicate and sacrifice for each other’s goals, our relationship became much, much stronger than if we had followed another path. God truly took our meager offering and imbued it with heavenly power.

He was 16 when he first caught the vision of the gospel of Jesus Christ. From that time on, Daniel Choc’s main goal was to be engaged in the service of his fellowmen. This desire was fulfilled only months later when he was called to serve as a part-time missionary. He was later called as the first full-time Cachiquel missionary in Guatemala. And finally, on March 29, 1976, his earthly mission came to an end.
At the time the gospel opened his mind, Daniel had received only three years of schooling. He was needed at home to take care of the family cow. His father, Pablo, now branch president at Patzicia, didn’t have a pasture, so the cow had to be grazed along the sides of the roads. Until he was 16, it appeared that Daniel would join the countless other Indians of Central America who had little or no employable skills. Fortunately, he and his sister Carmela, then 14, were invited to spend two years in Paradise Valley at the Foundation for Indian Development, a laboratory farm school directed by Brother Cordell Andersen.
Although a member of the Church, Daniel had never had an opportunity to give a speech, bear his testimony, be advanced in the priesthood, or have a calling or position.
At Paradise Valley, Daniel responded to Church opportunities and to educational experiences. He was almost immediately advanced in the priesthood and was called to be Sunday School president. He also took the lead in directing family home evenings for one of the family groups of the school. He then confided to Brother Andersen that in spite of the Cachiquel reputation as a family-oriented people, they weren’t happy in their homes and families. He determined he would be the stimulus to change this upon his return to Patzicia.
Daniel quickly learned the various agricultural and health care skills taught at the laboratory school and soon became a tractor instructor. In September 1971, he was called to be a local missionary to the Pokomchi Indians. During his 16-month mission he and a companion taught and baptized 26 Pokomchis.
Brother Andersen wrote, “Our family thrilled as we witnessed his first speech in church and his first spoken testimony. Progress was rapid for this humble Indian boy who responded eagerly to the previously undreamed of opportunities to improve himself and learn to help his people. He worked hard, played hard, and in his quiet way influenced a whole community of Pokomchi Indians for good.”
After completing two years of training at the school, he returned to his hometown. The branch members there were amazed at his growth. In a later discussion with Brother Andersen, he outlined a plan, which has since been used for creating the first all-Indian cooperative in Guatemala, the Center for Indian Development. Daniel was keeping a personal promise to do what he could to benefit his people and help them break the cycle of poverty.
Shortly after returning home he was called as the first full-time, LDS, Cachiquel Indian missionary. On February 4, 1976, an earthquake devastated the country. He lost his mother and two brothers in the disaster.
Elder Choc did not abandon his mission, but like other missionaries, he spent his preparation days helping to rebuild the damaged areas. He and several other missionaries were on such a project on March 29, 1976, at Patzun when a wall toppled, crushing him. Elder Choc was rushed to a nearby field hospital, but he was already dead.
He was taken home where a makeshift roof was constructed on the site where his home had once stood. Curtains from the destroyed chapel were used for shade as members, neighbors, and missionaries gathered to pay tribute to Elder Choc.
Two former companions spoke at the funeral. “He was my junior companion, but he taught me so much that I always knew that he was the leader,” one of them commented.
Many will remember Daniel Choc because he was the first of his people to serve on a full-time mission. Others will remember him because he gave his life while in the service of his fellowmen.

While recently touring the beautiful Brigham City Utah Temple, I was reminded of an experience that I had while serving as the coordinator of the open house, rededication, and cultural celebration of the historic Laie Hawaii Temple.
A few months prior to the completion of the extensive renovation work, I was invited to tour the temple with the Executive Director of the Temple Department, Elder William R. Walker, and his Temple Department associates. In addition, various members of the general contracting firm were in attendance. The purpose of the tour, in part, was to review the progress and quality of the work performed. At the time of this tour, the work was about 85 percent completed.
As we moved through the temple, I watched and listened to Elder Walker and his associates as they inspected the work and conversed with the general contractor. On occasion I observed one man running his hand along the walls as we moved from room to room. A few times after doing this, he would rub his fingers together and then approach the general contractor and say, “I feel grit on this wall. Grit is not temple standard. You will need to re-sand and buff this wall.” The contractor dutifully took notes of each observation.
As we approached an area in the temple that few eyes would ever see, the same man stopped us and directed our attention to a newly installed, beautiful leaded-glass window. This window measured about two feet (0.6 m) wide by six feet (1.8 m) tall and contained an embedded, small stained-glass geometric pattern. He pointed to a small two-inch (5 cm) colored-glass square that was part of the simple pattern and said, “That square is crooked.” I looked at the square, and to my eyes it looked evenly placed. However, upon closer inspection with a measuring device in hand, I could see there was a flaw and that this little square was indeed one-eighth of an inch (3 mm) crooked. Direction was then given to the contractor that this window would need to be replaced because it was not temple standard.
I admit that I was surprised that an entire window would need to be replaced because of such a small, barely noticeable defect. Surely, it was unlikely that anyone would ever know or even notice this window given its remote location in the temple.
As I drove home from the temple that day, I reflected on what I learned from this experience—or, rather, what I thought I learned. It wasn’t until several weeks later when I was invited to tour the now completed temple that my understanding of the prior tour experience became clearer.
As I entered the completely renovated Laie Hawaii Temple, I was overwhelmed by its beauty and quality of finish. You can appreciate my anticipation as I approached the “gritty” walls and the “flawed” window. Did the contractor re-sand and buff the walls? Was the window really replaced? As I approached the gritty walls, I was surprised to see that beautiful wallpaper now hung on all the walls. My first thought was, “So this is how the contractor addressed the grit—he covered it.” But, no, I learned that it had always been the plan to hang wallpaper on these walls. I wondered why a little hardly detectable grit mattered if wallpaper was to cover it. I then eagerly approached the area where the flawed window was located and was surprised to see a beautiful floor-to-ceiling potted plant sitting directly in front of the window. Again I thought, “So this is how the contractor addressed the crooked little square—he hid it.” As I moved closer, I pushed the plant’s leaves aside and smiled as I saw that the window had indeed been replaced. The formerly crooked little square now stood neatly and evenly in the pattern. I learned that it had always been part of the interior design to have a plant in front of this window.
Why would walls with a little grit and a window with a little asymmetry require additional work and even replacement when few human hands or eyes would ever know? Why was a contractor held to such high standards?
As I exited the temple deep in thought, I found my answer as I looked up at the refinished exterior and saw these words: “Holiness to the Lord, the House of the Lord.”

Throughout my life I have had ample need for pruning. For example, a few years ago I expected to receive a company promotion. I felt I had the experience, skills, and longevity required, and I hoped the choice was obvious.

At that time there was a new top manager in our company who had different priorities and goals than I did. Among other things, he expected all senior managers to work weekends in addition to weekdays. I was a stake president then and knew that to best serve the members of my stake, I needed to spend a certain amount of time fulfilling my Church responsibilities.

When the hoped-for promotion never occurred, I had to struggle to keep myself from feeling bitter. What a disappointment! I determined just to keep going, to try to do things as well as I could, and to maintain a positive demeanor. Yet my sense of self-worth had been challenged. My abilities had been called into question. Other Church leaders I knew seemed to capably manage both demanding Church callings and time-consuming employment.

In a weak moment, I even wondered whether I had made the right choice to devote so much time to the Church. Then I decided I needed to focus on what was truly important. I began to look not only at my capabilities but also at my limitations. I could see that the time I was spending in Church service was necessary and that I probably wouldn’t have been able to manage both the employment position I had sought and my Church calling.

I think the Lord was telling me I had to choose and would have to keep choosing. To have chosen to devote extra time to my employment so I could get the promotion would have disengaged me from the Lord’s work. As I look back, I can see what a blessing it was for me to devote so much of my time to the Church. The ensuing years were some of the most rewarding of my life. I felt closer to the Lord. My testimony was strengthened. My relationship with fellow Saints in the area was a great blessing, and I am sure I became more fruitful than I would have been otherwise.

It’s opening night.
Makeup has been applied, costumes put on, and props laid out. The final shout of “break a leg” has finished echoing through the hallway. After hours of utter chaos, it’s peaceful. Actors who moments ago joked and talked with one another now sit side-by-side in silence. Slowly they are making the transition from the everyday lives of modern-day teens to the daily struggles of adults who lived more than 100 years ago.
They are getting into character.
“When you’re in character, you’re acting just like that person, feeling the way they feel, and you have to let that show,” says deacon Jeff Timmons.
Building a character for a play means training yourself to think, feel, and behave the way your character would. In real life, building a character is not that much different. It requires the same hard work, discipline, and dedication as acting. But it also requires making decisions about the attributes that should be included in the part you wish to play—things like willingness to work, to share, and to love others.
In Los Lunas, New Mexico, Jeff and his fellow cast members are participants in a ward play that spreads the gospel message. While they are learning how to act on stage they are also helping each other learn the best ways to act in life.
Part of creating a strong character includes an appreciation of those who have gone before. As part of their stake’s Pioneer Day celebration, the youth in Los Lunas re-created the lives of 19th-century Armenian converts to the Church in their production of “And They Shall Be Gathered.”
“The early converts to the Church faced challenges, just like we do now. They were just different kinds of challenges,” says Geoff Pankretz, a priest who plays the male lead, Sarkis.
The Los Lunas First Ward put the production together with the help of director Norlan Jacobs, who was in the original production of the play at BYU more than 20 years ago. Brother Jacobs, cast members say, taught them many things about acting—concepts like blocking (learning where to stand and how to move on stage), characterization, and motivation. But more important than that, he stressed the significance of the story the play tells: a story of love, sacrifice, and of the great strength early converts to the Church were required to have.
“Brother Jacobs told us about the actual people the play was based on. They left their family behind in Armenia because they knew the Church was true. They decided to come to Utah. After they left, their family was killed. It makes you realize how important this play is. It gives you an appreciation for what people went through,” says 16-year-old Shae Dunkley.
Sometimes building character means knowing when to be a leader and when to be a follower. Putting together a play is no exception.
“This play has taught me a lot about working as a team,” says 17-year-old Libby Farnsworth. “I’m used to getting on the stage and being the center of attention, but this play is not a one-person show. You have to really allow the limelight to be on the person it’s supposed to be on.”
On stage, teamwork means remembering your own lines and helping others out when they forget theirs.
“Libby’s really great at feeding me lines. When I forget what to say next, she repeats the line before, to jog my memory. She’s saved me more than once,” says Geoff.
Backstage, the teamwork is just as important. Lights, sound, and props are all essential to the play. If a light is turned on too early, or too late, or not at all, for instance, the audience and the actors become confused.
“You’ve got to be right on cue on certain parts because people are really depending on you,” says 14-year-old Rex Hoel, sound manager for the play.
Another characteristic these young actors are working to cultivate is a willingness to share the gospel message.
“This play is really great because every single person that’s sitting here will be getting a missionary message,” says 15-year-old Sam Timmons.
“This play has really helped me be a better missionary,” says Alisha Hopper, 15. “I’m not so afraid to go out and talk to people anymore.”
Missionary opportunities are plentiful in the area since there are very few LDS families in the town. They are making their beliefs known, not only through the message of their play, but through their actions among their friends at school, helping to convert some of them along the way.
Eighteen-year-old Matt Dixon, a convert of only a few months, is a member of the cast, and 15-year-old Beau Taylor, who runs the lights backstage, will be baptized just six days after the play opens.
“I’ve been going to church for about a year now, and these guys have really helped me build my testimony by being examples,” says Beau.

In May of 2020 after Keoni and I were asked to come to BYU–Hawaii, I was assigned to give my first devotional talk. At first, I was okay. But, as I started preparing my talk, fear of inadequacy overcame me. I didn't know how to move forward. I was scared that I wasn't going to be as good as the people who came before me and that I couldn’t be what everyone needed me to be. During this time of being fearful, a friend and mentor of mine sent me a message. In the message, they reminded me that the Lord has asked me to do this. Their simple encouragement gave me the confidence I needed. It reminded me that the Lord asked me to fulfill this role. It helped remind me that the Lord knows me, and He will help me. It is so very important in life to be surrounded by others who also want to stay on the covenant path so that we can help each other through hard times. What a difference good friendships and positive relationships have made in my efforts to live the gospel and to overcome my personal fears and challenges. Choose friends that can do that for you!

ELDER JAGGI: The temple is a sanctuary of healing and a haven of rejoicing. Our son Stewart was born on November 5, 2001, in Henderson, Nevada. He lived just a few minutes. As Sister Jaggi and I prepared our little one in white clothes, placed him in his casket, and prepared for his transportation to his resting place on a family plot in Salt Lake City, our souls were ailing.

Sister Jaggi and I yearned for spirit and light. While I waited, she went into the St. George Utah Temple, needing additional power that only the Savior can provide. She was able to participate in an initiatory session. President Boyd K. Packer taught, “The ordinances of washing and anointing are referred to often in the temple as initiatory ordinances [because they begin the endowment]. . . . Associated with the endowment are washings and anointings—mostly symbolic in nature, but promising definite, immediate blessings as well as future blessings.” [8] She experienced definite and immediate blessings that day. We rejoiced together as she came out of the temple renewed, edified, and strengthened.

I know a former mission president with several beautiful daughters. Several of these young women accompanied their parents into the mission field. As this mission president and his wife neared the end of their three-year period of service, I asked him how the mission experience had been for their daughters. His response was interesting. Said he, "My daughters have learned that not all returned missionaries are created equal!"

My point quite simply is just this– get well enough acquainted with someone to learn their heart and their character first hand, and not just from his or her “resume.”

Speaking of the power of prayer and the power of fasting and the redemption of souls, let me share this story. Recently I interviewed a prospective missionary with a very unusual history. At age seventeen she ran away from home and lived with a man without bothering with a formal marriage. Her partner was an evil, conniving, conspiring businessman. He used the young lady in various ways to gain business advantages. On many occasions he arranged for her to sleep with clients. After two years of such wallowing in sin, the young lady woke up with a start one morning, wondering, “What am I doing? What is this doing to my family? Where is this leading?” She had not entertained thoughts like this before—it came new. It bothered her to the point that she dressed, left the apartment, and wandered the streets. She was confused and wondered what she should do. Finally, she determined that she should return home, like the prodigal son, and seek help from loved ones. Upon her return home she learned that her parents, brothers and sisters, and others were fasting and praying at that moment that she would find her way home. A loving father and serviceable bishop accepted her confession and did what was necessary to help her clean up her life. In fact, they put her on a cleanup program that lasted three years.

As this young and beautiful lady completed her program and was accepted back into the Church in full fellowship, her one desire was to serve the Lord as a full-time missionary. She explained to me that she had received many proposals, but that she had turned them down because, as she stated, “I have a debt to pay. I was reclaimed through the grace of God and I want to do something in return.” There is power in fasting and prayer and it should be applied in our efforts to redeem souls. We should fast and pray that all of God’s children will find their way home.