Gospel Story Finder

I remember a family in Albuquerque, New Mexico, I met years ago: a father, a mother, and two teenage daughters who belonged to no church but read the Bible together every day. They pondered the Savior’s life and His words. When we found this family, they had already decided that Christ would have a church and that they should find it. They knew that it would have prophets and apostles at its foundation because that is what Christ had placed in His church when He lived on the earth. They knew that the resurrected Lord had appeared to His Apostles.
And so it seemed right to this family when we testified that God, the Father, and His Son, the Savior of the world, came to a boy prophet, Joseph Smith. And the Holy Spirit, which they also recognized, told them it was true. They recognized the truth, that this is the church of Jesus Christ, in large part because they had always remembered Him. Every day they had gathered to read about Him and His words, and so they remembered Him. And after they were baptized, they were ready to follow the living prophet because they knew that the Savior always speaks to His prophets to bless His people.

In a testimony meeting in Bari, Italy, you can imagine my surprise when a young man stood up and said, “If it hadn’t been for the missionaries, I wouldn’t be here today.” He then went on to tell how his mother and grandparents had been found in Paris, France, by Elders Ben Walton and James Paramore 30 years earlier. After many meetings, the family was baptized. Now this son was on a mission. I later learned that over the years more than 170 people had been baptized by that family. I had been privileged to serve a mission, and those two and a half years were crucial to my testimony. I cannot thank God enough.

The San Jose 18th Ward was in charge of the decorations for the dance. Jeanne Meeks, the Laurel adviser, said a month of planning was involved in the decorations. “The kids did it all. That’s one thing that made it so much fun for them,” she said, noting that several nonmembers helped in designing bow ties, eyes, and a hat that were attached to the Volkswagen.
A late-model Beetle had originally been chosen as the car to be brought into the gym. But when the dance committee tried to get it in the door, it was two inches too wide! Someone commented that older cars were smaller. The committee contacted Brother Bert Smith, a science teacher at one of the local schools, and they were able to squeeze his older car through the opening.
The dance committee also asked Brother Smith to use test tubes to set up a “mad scientist” booth at which he brewed root beer. With a wig on his head, surrounded by a cloud of dry ice “steam,” and dressed in a white lab coat, he served thirsty dancers throughout the evening.

The tribal bond is very strong. Abel discovered just how strong when, a year after joining the Church, he says, “My heart began to yearn for my parents and my tribe.” He took his family back to Lifou. With no branch of the Church there, he lost contact with his new religion for six years.
Brother Seiko remembers: “During those six years, I didn’t have a good job, and I had problems with my wife. Nothing was going as I wanted it to. Then, after a big argument, Louise left for Nouméa. She knew it wasn’t good to be away from the Church. I was alone on the island. After she left, I went to my house and prayed all night to have the Spirit again.”
A few days later, Brother Seiko had his answer. Before he could have the peace he wanted, he had to come back to the Church. “I knew the Church was true,” he says, “and I knew I needed to repent. From then on, my goal has been to work for the Lord all the time.”
And work he has. In the years since, he has served as a Primary teacher, president of the elders quorum, counselor in two branch presidencies, branch president, high councilor, counselor in the district presidency, and now district president.

The boy you are encouraging may seem too timid to be a powerful priesthood servant. Another one of my sons was so shy as a little boy that he wouldn’t walk into a store and talk to a clerk. He was too afraid. I worried as I prayed over his priesthood future. I thought of him in the mission field—that didn’t sound promising. I was led to a scripture in Proverbs: “The wicked flee when no man pursueth: but the righteous are bold as a lion.”
I carved “Bold as a Lion” on his board, beneath an image of a large lion’s head roaring. On his mission and in the years that followed, he fulfilled the hope in my carving. My once-shy son preached the gospel with great conviction and faced dangers with bravery. He was magnified in his responsibilities to represent the Lord.
That can happen for the young man you are leading. You need to build his faith that the Lord can transform him into a servant braver than the timid boy you now see.

In February of this year I had the privilege of attending the Suva Fiji Temple dedication and again witnessed the Lord’s hand. We landed in Suva on Wednesday before the dedication. The island was sunny, warm and beautiful. Yet at that time, Category 4 Cyclone Winston was causing widespread devastation as it thrashed some of the islands of the South Pacific. On Thursday, we were notified that Cyclone Winston had changed directions and was headed directly toward the islands of Fiji. I remember thinking to myself, “This could be devastating.” While serving my mission in Papeete, Tahiti in 1983, Cyclone Vaena hit the French Polynesian islands causing power outages, flooding, widespread destruction, and displacing thousands of people. I was a young missionary living in an abandoned school building by the temple construction site. For a few weeks, our purpose as missionaries was to assist with the cleanup and recovery efforts. On Friday, Cyclone Winston became a Category 5 storm with wind speeds up to 175 mph. It was projected that the cyclone was headed directly to Suva and Nadi. The last large storm to hit the islands was 30 years ago. When President Henry B. Eyring of the First Presidency and the other General Authorities arrived in Suva to dedicate the temple, I felt much calmer. I trusted that the Lord would protect his faithful and humble servants. On Saturday, we prepared for the storm. The winds were increasing and warnings were sent to all the island inhabitants. We purchased food and water before attending the Cultural Celebration. The celebration was wonderful. The youth were extraordinary. They performed magnificently while the storm raged outside the auditorium. When it became apparent conditions were getting much worse outside, Church leadership ended the program early to ensure that the youth and their families could find safe shelter. Those of us in the Special Projects Department who had flown to Suva, Fiji for the dedication made our way back to the hotel, where we ate dinner and settled in for the night.

I watched the wind and rain increase dramatically while the storm surge wreaked havoc with the coast line. I felt a little concerned when the attending General Authorities left the hotel to take refuge at the temple. Our hotel briefly lost power, but generators supplied enough power to allow me to watch NetFlix before going to bed. I don’t remember what I watched, but I clearly remember the peace I felt as the storm raged and at the dedication the following day. On Sunday, February 21, 2016, the day of the dedication, we passed downed power lines, trees and debris everywhere on our way to the temple. To our surprise, the temple grounds looked neat and unscathed. President Eyring presided over the temple dedication as planned, although many people were unable to attend due to the widespread devastation and suspension of transportation. Miraculously, the cyclone had abruptly changed its path and veered away. Suva was spared a direct hit. The Lord had intervened and allowed His holy house to be dedicated as scheduled, again allowing the temple to bless the lives of the members in that region.

And now another example. [Some of the actual names and places have been changed.] In March of 1978, a letter was received by the Wilson family, who live in Idaho. It began, “Dear Brother and Sister Wilson, Just a short note to see how things are going with you and let you know how things are with me.”
This letter was written by the Wilsons’ Lamanite foster daughter, Celia Red Horse, whom they had not heard from for several years.
The seeds of their relationship had been planted in 1965 in a talk delivered by Elder Spencer W. Kimball, then a member of the Quorum of the Twelve. Brother Wilson, who was a bishop at the time of Elder Kimball’s address, was impressed with the words of a scripture from the Book of Mormon: “I will soften the hearts of the Gentiles that they shall be like unto a father to them” (2 Ne. 10:18). As the meeting continued, Bishop Wilson was further touched in his heart and determined within himself to help with the Indian student placement program. In the fall of 1967, a wonderful new experience came into the lives of the Wilson family when sixteen-year-old Celia Red Horse came to live with them for the school year.
To quote the Wilsons: “We enjoyed Celia and had some special times with her. She was a good student and very obedient. When she went home to the reservation, we communicated with her for some time, but gradually, as the years passed, there was less communication.”
After Celia left, the Wilsons had several other young Lamanites in their home over the years, all of whom they came to love, appreciate, and have a special relationship with. By 1978, when Celia’s letter arrived, eleven years had passed. The Wilson family had grown to include ten children of their own, and they had not participated in the placement program for two years. May I continue to read from Celia’s letter:
“Right now, I am working as a secretary. I am saving a lot of my pay so that I can buy clothes for my daughter before she can go on placement.
“I guess I haven’t seen you or your family for about ten years. I know everyone has changed quite a bit. I imagine the kids are all grown up and gone. …
“I have one little girl. Her name is Margaret. She is seven and will be going on placement this fall. She wants to go. I have told her all about the program. She has never been away from home in all her seven years.
“Do you remember my brother David? Well, he has already been on his mission, and now he is at BYU. He is coming back this summer to baptize Margaret. He came home in December for the Christmas vacation. Then, while he was back for Christmas, he blessed my brother’s little girl. Before that, he baptized two others in our family.
“How old are Joy, Curt, Rhonda, Gary, and Jenny? I remember them all—Joy and her allergy, Curt and his accordion, Rhonda and her ballet lessons, and how Gary used to swim like a little frog in the swimming pool. I can still remember Jenny and her red hair. All of these kids are probably teenagers or older. How are they all doing?”
Celia goes on to mention that the problems of modern youth having to do with alcohol and drugs have infiltrated the reservation as seriously as they have the inner city. She indicates deep gratitude for the Church and its teachings, which have such a profound effect in keeping young people from some of the mistakes of their peers. She also indicates that through the teachings of the Church her family is closer and more secure. She tells us that most of her little brothers and sisters are going to be involved in the placement program this year, and then she goes on to ask:
“Are you still participating in the placement program?
“Please write and tell me all the news. …
“I think I better close here. Take care, and may the Lord bless you in all your righteous endeavors. Love. …”
As Brother and Sister Wilson read this lovely letter from Celia, Brother Wilson vaguely remembered a portion of the address he had heard Elder Kimball deliver twelve years earlier. “Elder Kimball had said that success would not be felt in the first generation, but real success would come in the second, third, or fourth,” Brother Wilson recalled. “When this statement came back to me, I felt that we should invite Celia’s daughter to come into our home, for this would be the second generation of the same family in the same home.”
An inquiry was made through the Indian placement program as to whether it would be possible for Margaret to live with the Wilsons. When Celia found out this was possible, “she immediately called us and with tears said how pleased she would be to have Margaret come to the home where she had once lived,” Brother Wilson said.
Margaret spent the 1978–79 school year with the Wilson family and, like her mother before her, brought as much to the Wilson family as she received from them.
“She is very generous with others,” Sister Wilson said. “If someone comments on something that she has and says, ‘I like that,’ then Margaret will give it to him. Each of our children receives an allowance, and since Margaret is considered one of the children she also gets an allowance.
“Last Christmas we talked about doing something as a family to help somebody else. Margaret had saved up quite a bit of her allowance, which she gave to the family project.
“She helps out with household chores just like any other member of the family. She and Angela, who is also eight, share kitchen duties one night a week. They also have other responsibilities in the home.”
Brother Wilson recalled that when Margaret first came into their home, she was very quiet and did not express herself very well. Her mother, Celia, had asked the Wilsons to help Margaret learn how to pray and express her feelings.
Now “she asks if she can ask the blessing on the food or if she can offer prayers,” Brother Wilson reports. “And when she prays, the rest of us really listen because she has some very good thoughts.”
As the end of the school year approached, the Wilsons made arrangements for Celia to visit with them in Idaho, and a special reunion time was held with her at that time as she came back to her foster home and stayed with her daughter and her foster family. She took Margaret home with her and, in discussion with the Wilson family, decided that Margaret should remain home with her family this year and attend school on the reservation.

“Missionary work?” Sue Ann Yazzie, a 17-year-old Navaho from Shiprock, New Mexico, brushed long, black hair from her shoulders and smiled. Her warm, brown eyes sparkling, she said, “The best way to get someone interested in the Church is to be friends with him.”

A member of the Church for two years, Sue Ann talked about her conversion: “Even before I joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I believed that when we die, we will be able to see friends and relatives who have died before us. I lost faith in the church I was attending when the minister said, ‘If you think you will be able to see your dead ancestors when you die, you’re mistaken.’ It was then that I asked the Lord which church was true. I promised I would keep the commandments if He would help me.”

Sue Ann wanted to attend high school off the reservation. When she was asked to participate in the Indian education program in Richfield, Utah, she accepted. In Richfield, the Indian students live in a dormitory and attend local schools.

When one of the employees in the dormitory invited Sue Ann and several of her friends to a family home evening, she wasn’t really interested. “At the time, I wasn’t sure if I liked the Mormon Church. I didn’t know very much about it. But I went just to keep my friends company. That was when I first became interested in the Church. I liked what I heard.

“Later, when I read the Book of Mormon, many of the parts seemed familiar. When I was younger, my grandmother told me many of the Navaho legends. I first heard the story of the great white god, who will one day return, from her,” she said.

The sun was low in the sky, and the air was cooling when Cal Fredricks came over to our camp. My father was sitting next to our tent. They shook hands, and then Cal took his wallet from his back pocket and began peeling off greenbacks.
“Never seen anything like what you and the Scot did,” he exhaled the words of emphasis. “Nothing like it. It was worth the hundred. There’s a dance and a party a little later. You’re sort of the guest of honor. Your wife and daughter are welcome to come up to the house to clean up.” He turned and walked away. “What a contest. Never seen anything like it.”
My father put the money into a small box with the rest of our earnings and then put the box under the seat of our truck and locked the door.
The dance was a wild foot-stompin’, hootin’, Montana-sheep-man dance with plenty of fiddle players, fried chicken and, in our honor, homemade root beer. It was held on a wood platform on the edge of the grass and sagebrush prairie. The moon was monstrous and bright yellow that night; hanging low against the rolling hill it threw almost more light than the lanterns hung from poles around the platforms. I remember seeing the silhouette of a flock of birds fly across the moon. The air was cool, still edged with winter and smelling of the rain, cool enough to make you want to keep dancing for most of the night.
To watch my father you would never have guessed he’d sheared 330 sheep that day. At about midnight, with the help of Cal’s son, I threw an entire carton of firecrackers onto the floor, just to quicken the pace of things a little. My father didn’t even ask any questions. He took one look at me and told me to go to bed and added that we’d be having a pretty serious discussion in the morning. I fell asleep with the music of the violins and the shouts of the dancers.
“Bobby.” My father was shaking me. “Wake up.” I opened my eyes. It was still dark. My father was holding a lantern in his hand.
“Someone broke into the truck. Did you hear anything?”
I shook my head. “Did they get the money?”
My father nodded as he turned and walked out of the tent.
“Did you notice the truck when you came back?” he asked when I came out of the tent. I shook my head again. All of our money had been in the truck, all of it.
I looked down at my bare feet. “Went straight to bed,” I whispered.
My father hung his head for a few seconds and took a deep breath.
“I’ll go up to the house and call the sheriff.”
The money was never found. The next morning my mother came out of the tent carrying another small bag. She handed it to my father. He opened it and pulled a handful of money from it.
“This is our tithing money,” he whispered.
She nodded. “It’ll get us home, maybe buy seed for the farm. We can pay it back.” She had her head down. “It’s all we have.”
My father looked down for a few seconds and then he looked up grinning. “Bedbugs with green paint on their backs. Come on, there’s something we need to do.” He started toward the truck. “Won’t take long.”
We drove down into Helena where my father stopped the truck in front of a bank. He leaned on the steering wheel.
“I’m going to get a check for this money,” he said. “And then I’m going to send it to Bishop Anderson. It’s not our money to decide what to do with.”
I thought my father had lost his main drive bearing. He had to be crazy, sending the only money we had back to the bishop.
What I remembered most about the rest of the summer was the terrible feeling of being stranded 700 miles from home. Work was hard to get. The shearing season was over. All the big sheep operations had finished their shearing. We took anything. We made a few dollars helping Cal bag his wool and load it for market. My mother took a job in Jack’s Dirt Cheap World Famous Truckstop and Post Office as a cook. Kathey and I washed dishes.
My father found plenty of work, but where he had been making over twenty dollars a day shearing, he was only able to make one or two dollars for work that was just as hard.
It was late fall before we were able to make our way back home, and it was several years before I would begin to understand what my father had done.

—The dishes were so clean they sparkled, throwing glints of light around a room that was once shabby and rundown. The Young Women of Iowa City were working in connection with a transitional housing program to prepare a home for occupants who were previously homeless. They scrubbed and cleaned on a morning most others would have spent inside with a good book or movie.
“I don’t like to clean my own house,” said April Biggs. “But then I realized that some people don’t even have one to clean. Many people are going through life with a vacancy, and we can fill it through service and the gospel.”

One day Lincoln’s friends told him that they had pretended to put money into the school’s pencil machine. They told the secretary that they didn’t get a pencil, and she gave them one. Lincoln decided to give it a try.
At recess Lincoln sat on a bench and looked at his free pencil. He felt very sad inside. He wanted to do what was right. He told the secretary what he had done and gave her the pencil. Lincoln felt better.

In the colder months, I enjoy wearing sweaters. When my wife, Bonnie, and I married, I owned a maroon sweater one of my brothers-in-law had given me some years earlier. I had worn the sweater a great deal, and the fabric had noticeably thinned at the elbows.

My wife is talented with a crochet hook and makes beautiful things with that tool. Bonnie had crocheted herself several sweaters beginning when she was in 4-H as a girl. She decided, either because she couldn’t find a ready-made one or because she couldn’t find one that was within our Christmas gift budget, that she would crochet one to replace my beloved but worn sweater.

Her intent was both to please and to surprise. On Christmas morning, however, it became apparent—as it had not been while she crocheted it—that the sweater was too bulky. It was not only apparent to Bonnie; I knew it as well, and it showed on my face. While Bonnie would no doubt tell you that she was sorry about the sweater’s bulkiness, I know that her sorrow was compounded by my selfish first thought about how I would look wearing it rather than by thinking first about the love that had gone into it. I had not truly received her gift. Gratefully, I have since received her forgiveness.

Mervyl Meyer, from South Africa, received this great gift when her mother died at the age of 93. As an only child, Mervyl felt her mother’s loss deeply. She realized that her mother’s death was a blessed release from the pain and frustration of advanced age, but she longed for her mother’s companionship.
One Saturday morning as Mervyl prepared her garden for spring planting, she reviewed in her mind the Relief Society lesson she would be teaching on Sunday. The lesson was about the paradisiacal glory the earth would enjoy during the Millennium. Although she had prayed about the lesson—and the promise it held for her mother’s resurrection—her heart was heavy with the thought of her mother’s body buried deep in the dark ground. She feared she would never see her mother again.
But as she worked, she was touched by the Spirit. “I pondered the lesson. It came to me that the earth in which I worked was the same earth that sheltered my mother’s mortal remains. As I put my hands into the rich brown soil, I received an intimate assurance of the renewal of all life, of the Resurrection. I felt at peace.”

While he was recovering from his illness, Elder Kikuchi stayed at his uncle’s home in Muroran City, west of Hokkaido. In the spring of 1958, two American missionaries knocked at the door. Because he knew nothing about the real causes of World War II, Elder Kikuchi’s first response was, “No thank you. You Americans killed my father.” The missionaries, out tracting on their preparation day, told the young man that they had an important message for him and that they wanted to tell him a story about a boy his age—Joseph Smith. He said that he would listen for ten minutes.
“They taught me the most beautiful story of Joseph Smith who saw Heavenly Father and the Son,” Elder Kikuchi said. “I felt a sweet spirit. It changed my life immediately, and I requested to study more. After fourteen days I was baptized.” Elder Kikuchi was baptized on April 13, 1958. “Since then,” Elder Kikuchi noted, “I’ve ‘felt to sing the song of redeeming love’” (Alma 5:26).
After his conversion to the gospel, Elder Kikuchi found that his attitude about his father’s death changed. He followed the Savior’s teachings to “love one another” (John 13:34) and to “love your enemies” (Matt. 5:44).

The first time Aries and Lowenna saw each other was at a young single adult dance. It was just a glance; neither spoke. Six months later, Aries and a couple of his friends traveled 120 miles (190 km) to a young single adult housewarming activity at Lowenna’s student house. He says, “I guess it was the normal thing to do where the young single adults are so far spread.”

They both recognized each other from the dance, and Aries wasted no time inviting Lowenna and her sister to go wakeboarding with him. Lowenna and her sister didn’t make it because the distance to pick them up and return would have been too difficult for Aries, but they continued to see each other a couple of times a month at dances and activities. They grew to be good friends. As their feelings became stronger, they would regularly call and talk on the phone.

As Lowenna says, “Our feelings were stronger than we had ever experienced with past boyfriends or girlfriends. We both wanted to be the best that we possibly could for each other.”

Aries planned to propose and secretly bought a ring and overcame the daunting task of asking her dad’s permission. The couple planned to walk to a beautiful waterfall in a place where Aries spent a lot of his childhood. As Aries knelt to rummage in his backpack for the ring, Lowenna, thinking he wanted to take everything slower, said, “Is there anything you would like to change in our relationship?”

Aries replied, “Yes, there is actually. I would like to change quite a lot.” He pulled out a box with a ring inside.

The couple immediately started making plans. They were married 10 weeks later in the Preston England Temple, with Lowenna’s grandfather performing the temple sealing.

Lowenna says, “The Spirit was really strong through the day and served as an excellent introduction to the gospel to all our nonmember family and friends. We felt that there was nothing more important in this life than our eternal marriage. We are so grateful for the strength that we were to each other during our courtship, which enabled us to enter worthily into our Father’s house to make the sacred covenants that guide us in our married life today.”

I have a best friend. Her name is Barbara. We love watching and singing along to movies. We go on walks together and look at the flowers on the temple grounds. We read princess stories together every night. When I’m around Barbara, I can be myself. Not only is she my dearest friend, but she is also my sister.
Barbara has cerebral palsy, a condition that affects her physically and mentally. She can’t walk, and she needs to be fed through a tube. She loves singing but struggles to verbally communicate her feelings, wants, and needs. And although Barbara is 29, mentally she acts like a toddler.
Even though Barbara is four years older than me, I’ve always felt like the “big sister.” My family’s whole world revolves around her. She is the sun, and we are the circling planets. While the situation sometimes has amazing benefits—like being able to skip lines at amusement parks—other times it means making sacrifices, like not going to certain activities or needing to host events in our home. Each day we review our schedule to make sure someone is always taking care of Barbara and her needs.
To help my parents take care of her, my older brother and I matured very quickly. We had to learn how to identify when Barbara was having a seizure and what to do, how to feed her through a tube, how to change her diapers, and how to prepare her medications when we were very young. While this early maturity helped me have confidence in myself, it did make socializing a huge struggle.
I felt so different from everyone my age. Even if I was invited to hang out with friends and my parents encouraged me to go, I struggled to have fun because I felt guilty that my parents had so much to do at home. Other times I would have a hard time enjoying myself when Barbara was struggling with her health. Most of the time, I just wanted a friend to sit down with me and listen.
Sometimes I felt like no one understood what I was going through. But a few things helped remedy that loneliness. I decided I’d try to reach out to people who might be feeling similarly. When I did go to activities or church, I tried to include those who were sitting alone or who looked like they were having a bad day. As Elder Gerrit W. Gong of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught, “Miracles occur when we care for each other as He would.”1 And I saw miracles come into my life. I felt much more comfortable going to activities and was happier when I offered love to others.
Another thing that helped was realizing how much the Savior truly understood me. I realized that He knew exactly what I was going through and would always be with me. I focused more on getting to know Him through the scriptures and prayer. Sometimes when I prayed, I would imagine that He and Heavenly Father were sitting with me and listening. When I have difficult feelings and feel overwhelmed at how unfair Barbara’s situation seems at times, I remember that Christ will help me find peace and reassurance. Elder Dale G. Renlund of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles explained this perfectly when he said, “In unfair situations, one of our tasks is to trust that ‘all that is unfair about life can be made right through the Atonement of Jesus Christ.’”2
Having a loved one with a disability can require near-superhuman strength. It affects your life physically, mentally, emotionally, financially, and spiritually. For the past 29 years, my parents have awakened nearly every day at 2:00 in the morning to care for Barbara. We all go to the gym regularly so we can be strong enough to lift and carry Barbara when necessary. And so many other responsibilities can take a toll on us all.
How do we possibly do everything?
This can be described in one word: grace.
“Grace [is the] enabling power and spiritual healing offered through the mercy and love of Jesus Christ. …
“The grace of God helps us every day. It strengthens us to do good works we could not do on our own.”3
What do I love most about Barbara? With her I’ve learned more about the Savior’s love for us. You can’t help but feel of His love when you’re around Barbara. Despite all her difficulties, she is always smiling, singing, and making us laugh. However, there are also days where I feel helpless, when nothing seems to make her feel better. But because of my experiences, I know with certainty that the Savior understands what both Barbara and I are going through. No matter our earthly trials, a beautiful aspect of the Savior’s enabling power is that we can not only be given strength to experience and overcome hard things but also do it all with joy.
Editors’ note: Since the time that this article was written, the author’s sister has passed away.
You can submit your own article, ideas, or feedback at liahona.ChurchofJesusChrist.org. We can’t wait to hear from you!

A historic example of commitment to be strong and immovable for all ages was portrayed by a British Olympian who competed in the 1924 Olympics in Paris, France.

Eric Liddell was the son of a Scottish missionary to China and a devoutly religious man. He infuriated the British leadership of the Olympics by refusing, even under enormous pressure, to run in a preliminary 100-meter race held on Sunday. Ultimately he was victorious in the 400-meter race. Liddell’s example of refusing to run on Sunday was particularly inspiring.

Depictions and memorials in his honor have referred to the inspirational words from Isaiah, “But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”24

Liddell’s admirable conduct was very influential in our youngest son’s decision to not participate in Sunday sports and, more importantly, to separate himself from unrighteous and worldly conduct. He used the quote from Isaiah for his yearbook contribution. Eric Liddell left a powerful example of determination and commitment to principle.

My great-grandfather was John Pack, one of the early members of the Church. One day he and his wife were surrounded by a mob of Mormon haters, and he was told to make a terrible choice: either he could say that he did not believe in the restored gospel and the Prophet Joseph Smith, or he would be shot on the spot. John Pack stood up straight, looked the men in the eye, and bore a strong testimony of the gospel and of the Prophet. One by one the members of the mob sneaked away, and the leader of the mob could get no one to carry out the evil deed.
John Pack, even at the threat of his life, chose the right and bore testimony of the truth. Ever since I first learned of that story, I have hoped that I would be willing, no matter what the temptation, to stand for what I know to be true and to always choose the right. John Pack’s example has been a source of strength for me.

During a period when I was preparing to be shipped to Northern Ireland, a new recruit joined my platoon, as my replacement. The thing I remember most about him was that he was always very calm and I used to wonder how he could be like that, in the midst of what our work entailed. Every morning he would put a book called The Book of Mormon on his pillow. I did not know what it was about, and my departure prevented me from learning; I never saw him again. Fast forward to the year 2000. I was trying to recover from the loss of my mother, when, following a prayer to God for peace and comfort, a few days later, missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints knocked on my door. That was when I became aware of the content of The Book of Mormon. Following in-depth discussions, I made the decision to be baptised and so began my new life in the gospel of Jesus Christ.

During my early years as a seminary teacher, I occasionally witnessed coworkers strive earnestly to cope with professional fatigue or with frustration in a particular assignment. For some, a natural response to such conditions was to request an environmental change, new surroundings, or a fresh assignment. Sometimes such requests were granted but sometimes not. In the case of the latter, I recall a wise supervisor often saying to a fatigued or frustrated employee, "Take a journey of the heart." To such counsel, a person could say "But this won't take me anywhere. Nothing will change; I'll still be in the same surroundings facing the same conditions." Over the years, as I have reflected on this simple but profound advice, I have come to realize that a journey of the heart is perhaps one of the most important journeys we can take. It is true that such a journey may not change the world around us, but it most definitely affects how we experience the world and how the world affects us.