Gospel Story Finder

The teachers quorum of the Tempe Arizona Sixth Ward went the extra mile for one of their ward members recently when they designated a private parking space for him in the church parking lot.

Brother Conrad Roskelley of their ward is confined to a wheelchair and drives a specially equipped car. A parking space near the church entrance was often hard for him to find, and the observant members of the teachers quorum recognized this. The youths went to work, obtained permission to mark a space reserved, and built a concrete ramp so Brother Roskelley could maneuver his chair up onto the sidewalk more easily.

The next week they surprised him by asking, “How come you didn’t park in your parking space?”

Cindy looked at the clock above the door of the playground building. The hour had gone so fast she couldn’t believe it was nearly one o’clock.
She lifted her tennis racket and tossed the ball for her last serve. Donna was ready with a fast cross-court return that caught Cindy unprepared.
“I win!” Donna called. “I beat you for once!”
Cindy smiled as she wiped the back of her hand across her damp face. Then she began picking up the tennis balls.
“Let’s have another game,” Donna invited. “That last one was really an accident. You could easily win this time.”
“I can’t,” Cindy replied. “There’s just time for me to run home and shower before I go to the hospital to help Mrs. Holt with the story and craft activities.”
“Oh, nuts!” Donna scoffed, pulling a face. “That’s some way to spend the summer! Two afternoons a week with sick kids.”
“Those children have to spend a long time in the hospital. They do get awfully lonely, and I promised,” Cindy began.
“Well, just this once I’d think you could play another game,” Donna insisted. “It’s not like you were really that important. You said yourself that you don’t do very much.”
Cindy had thought this a number of times. All she ever did was pass out paper and crayons or scissors or whatever supplies were needed. And she also helped the children with their wheelchairs and crutches.
“Maybe I wouldn’t be missed,” she said to herself. “Maybe I’ve been building up the importance of what I’m doing because I want to feel I’m helping someone.”
“Come on, Cindy, and serve,” Donna said impatiently.
Cindy rolled the ball across her racket a few times, but then she shook her head. “Donna, I can’t. I really did promise, and it wouldn’t be fair!”
Cindy knew that Donna thought she was being foolish, but she couldn’t help that—even if Donna found someone else to play with the rest of the summer.
Cindy hurried to shower and get ready to go to the hospital. She was afraid she would be late, so she ran most of the eight blocks from her home to the hospital.
Her legs ached as she hurried up the hospital steps and down the long corridor toward the room where the children were waiting. As she opened the door, Cindy paused a moment to catch her breath.
“Mrs. Holt hasn’t started the stories yet,” she said to herself. “So maybe I’m not as late as it seemed.”
“Cindy’s here!” Dennis called as he caught sight of her. Dennis was in a cast from his hips down, but he wouldn’t think of missing the stories.
The others turned too. “Cindy! Cindy!” they called. It was almost like a chorus.
Mrs. Holt smiled, but Cindy saw that something was wrong with the gray-haired woman who was usually laughing with the children.
“Don’t you feel well?” Cindy asked quietly.
Mrs. Holt shook her head. “I’ve been a bit dizzy all day. I didn’t know if I could wait until you came. But now that you’re here, I know everything will be all right.”
Cindy felt her face grow warm, remembering how tempted she had been when Donna coaxed her to stay and play another game of tennis.
“I don’t like to leave you, Cindy,” Mrs. Holt sighed. “But all the children love you so much that I can go home and not worry. It’s good to know I can depend on you. Since you’ll be alone today, maybe you could read some stories.”
A shiver of doubt ran through Cindy, but she nodded. “I—I’ll do my best.”
Reluctantly Cindy watched Mrs. Holt walk away. At the door the older woman turned back. “I hope I’ll feel better by Friday, but if not I’ll depend on you again.”
Cindy had never read stories to the children before. At first her voice sounded shaky and small to her, but gradually her confidence grew.
“You read good,” Dennis announced. “Good as anybody!”
Cindy laughed and patted the little boy’s arm. “That’s because you’re all my friends.”
The afternoon went quickly—almost too quickly.
“You’ll come back, won’t you?” Dennis asked as Cindy was leaving. “You said we were friends,” he added wistfully.
Cindy went back and gave him a hug. “We are friends. And I’ll come back—I promise.”
As Cindy left the hospital, she knew she would keep her promise—just as often as she was needed.

In the United States, jail is often a place of waiting. Usually the men and women there are waiting to be sentenced by a court. There isn’t much to do to pass the time, and sometimes boredom spills out into outright anger.
I had the opportunity to serve as branch president at a jail. It was a privilege to help bring the gospel of Jesus Christ into that building. It was at one of our weekly services that I met Brad.
Brad had been incarcerated in various places for 30 years. His family had given up on him, and he didn’t have much to look forward to. One day he discovered that an old friend was also at the jail. They decided to catch up at one of our Sunday services. The Spirit was so strong, however, that they didn’t end up doing much talking. Brad was touched. He agreed to meet with me after the meeting.
I still remember Brad walking into that first interview, his head shaved except for a braided ponytail and menacing mustache. I remember thinking, “Here is my next Alma the Younger.” As we prayed together, something amazing happened. I saw in my mind a spiritually pure, peaceful man. I realized that Heavenly Father had shown me what Brad’s future could be if he responded to the Spirit.
Brad agreed to meet with me again and again. With each visit, the spiritual intensity of our conversations grew. The Holy Ghost helped me feel close to Brad and brought Brad closer to the Lord. Over time, Brad helped many other inmates study the gospel. They knelt together in prayer at night, ignoring the stares and ridicule of inmates who did not join them. The Light of Christ shone more obviously from them. I started lovingly referring to them as our “sons of Mosiah.”
Brad and his other incarcerated friends are still on their spiritual journey, as we all are. But their story reminds us that the Holy Ghost can help us wherever we are. God loves His children—every last one of us.

In my enthusiasm and excitement on my first day of service as a mission president, I asked the zone leaders I had invited to my home, “How much of a typical day in missionary service are you normally under the vibrating, powerful influence of the Spirit?”
They obviously did not know what to say. They acted like I had caught them by surprise. Having been converted to the Church as an adult and not having served as a young, full-time missionary, I assumed it was natural that a missionary would be always under the influence of the Spirit. How surprised I was when no missionary was saying anything.
Finally, one of them spoke up. “Last Thursday night, while we were teaching the Lehman family, we were feeling the Spirit.”
I remember my immediate response was, “That was it? How about the rest of the day?”
As soon as I asked my zone leaders what they experience when they are under the influence of the Spirit, they were all participating, describing the different effects the Spirit has in our lives. They agreed that being under the influence of the Spirit fills us with satisfying joy. It enhances our ability to make necessary adjustments, even in the most difficult circumstances. This Spirit helps us develop our intellectual capabilities and even delivers the motivation to use them. The zone leaders agreed that under the influence of the Spirit, some things that can seem uncomfortable, like hard work, getting up on time, going the extra mile, overcoming homesickness, overcoming flaws of character, and other personal sacrifices, become easier.
It became clear that, under the influence of the Spirit, we are empowered to act in wisdom. We see the complexity of a problem in its simple parts and see possible solutions unfolding in front of our eyes, to our own surprise. In other words, our creativity is developed and multiplied. That which is a burden without it becomes a privilege when we are under the influence of the Holy Spirit.
Many times in our lives it happens that the gifts of the Spirit rest dormant in us. We are not even aware of the full extent of their existence, as it was with my missionaries. Did they not have the Spirit? Of course they did. They had even passed the test of forsaking their own self-centered plans to become sacred witnesses for the Lord Jesus Christ. Still they had not fully understood the workings of the Spirit.
Why did the one elder feel the Spirit as he was teaching the Lehman family? Because at that time he and his companion were completely focused in their search for divine guidance. Too often we are not aware of the powerful gift which rests dormant in us. We cannot be grateful for that of which we are not aware, nor can we activate its power.

I have always loved animals. When I was a boy, my favorite pet was a dog I called Ruff. Today I would like to tell you about a test that Ruff flunked.

I suppose I named my dog Ruff because he looked and acted that way. He was a homely dog, an unlikely and unsuccessful cross between a bloodhound and an Airedale, and he was always getting into fights—and he loved to chase motorcycles. Unfortunately for Ruff, the motorcycle he loved to chase more than any other belonged to a policeman.

He never learned—that is, until one fateful day when he chased after the policeman one too many times and the officer shot Ruff in the foot. It scared my poor dog half to death, and he limped home whimpering and whining. I dressed his wound as best I could, and Ruff eventually recovered. But he never chased motorcycles after that.

Instead he followed me to work at my father’s business during the summer. Ruff wasn’t very welcome at work; he always seemed to be in the way. I tried to get him to go home, but he would not leave my side.

One day a young boy popped a balloon, and Ruff flew out the door at work and ran at full speed for the safety of our home. I guess he thought the policeman had come looking for him. From that day on, if I wanted Ruff to get out of our way, I would just pop a sack, and off he would flee in a beeline for home.

I am sure that before he got shot, chasing motorcycles seemed like a good idea to Ruff. Perhaps he was thinking, “This is exciting, and I am willing to risk the consequences in order to have a good time.”

But then he learned for himself through that terrifying experience that his thinking was shortsighted. There is a moral to this story, although I would rather think of it as advice from me to you, graduate to graduate.

Kaemin and Ikani (“Kolby”) already knew a lot about prophets. But visiting the North Visitors’ Center on Temple Square helped them see in a new way how prophets testify of Jesus Christ.
That day Kolby and Kaemin got to see life-size replicas of prophets from the scriptures. They learned that even though prophets live at different times, all prophets testify that Jesus Christ is our Savior and the Son of God.
After learning what prophets taught of Christ, Kolby and Kaemin walked up a spiral ramp to the top of the visitors’ center. There they saw a large statue of Jesus called the Christus. They listened to a recording of Jesus’s teachings. The things that the prophets taught about Jesus are the same things Jesus taught about Himself.

I hope I don't embarrass myself too much by telling you how I tried to apply this counsel. My approach was to organize what I called my "date a million program." I would try to meet and get to know as many young women as I could. I asked people to line me up with their friends and relatives somewhat like the member referral approach I took as a missionary in Peru and Ecuador. I then created a progressing friends list containing at least six promising "friends" whom I would see more frequently but whom I couldn't see twice in a row so that I didn't prematurely focus on one person and become too romantically involved before I had formed a good friendship. I had around two to four dates a week during this time but most of the dates were to things I already was doing: going to a devotional and then stopping by the Cougareat for a treat, going to a church fireside, attending a lecture or film on campus, etc. I met some wonderful young women and tried to be their friend rather than to court them. I also developed a good list of six progressing friends that I began to spend more time with.

However, my program almost kept me from following my feelings about Margaret Allred. She was so easy to talk to and such a good friend that I found myself wanting to spend more time with her. But I would then lecture myself that I was supposed to let friendship develop and consider many possibilities rather than narrow my search prematurely. Fortunately, as I got up to recapture my testimony one morning and prayed about my progressing friends list, the Lord helped me to see that Margaret was a wonderful person with whom I could build an eternal relationship. He helped me overlook some of the little flaws I saw when I was comparing my progressing friends. I think I was doing what I see some young men and women I know doing now. They approach selecting a companion as though they were a consumer looking for the best product. The Lord helped me see that Margaret would also have to overlook or work with my flaws, perhaps chief among them that I was a perfectionistic romantic. His love for her and for me and his reassurance that this relationship was worth pursuing was a revelation to me at the time.

By the way, at this same time Margaret was following a process very similar to grandfather's counsel. She had been going on dates with a number of different young men but she was clear sooner than I was about feeling that our relationship could be eternal. However, then as now it was harder for young women to initiate dating. Somehow she found out my schedule and I began to be surprised that we just happened to "bump into each other" at many class breaks. She learned that I was majoring in Spanish and decided to take beginning Spanish. She also joined a student government committee that I was also working on. No wonder I came to feel Margaret was such a good friend with whom I could talk so easily!

It was unlike any other commencement or baccalaureate exercise I had ever attended or in which I had ever participated. There were 44 graduates, all male. They did not have traditional academic robes or caps or gowns. Each man wore a light blue denim shirt and dark blue denim trousers.
The ceremony was not held in a field house or a stadium or even a lovely auditorium. It was held in a modest interdenominational chapel at the Utah State Prison. The graduating class had successfully completed a year’s course of Bible study, which was sponsored by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints but open to all who cared to participate.
The opening prayer was given by a young man who looked more like a mere boy. He was frightened to death, but he gave a prayer from his heart. He was in prison for 10 years to life on an armed robbery charge. The closing prayer was given by a man who was 45 or 50 years old and who looked as if he could have been somebody’s uncle. He was in for a life term on second-degree murder.
A young man who had been released from prison had come back to get his certificate and to encourage his colleagues. He said, “Guys, the perspective in prison is really bad. It really looks better on the outside. Try to remember that.” Then he turned to the outsiders, to the friends and families who had come, and said, “You people are a light in a dark place. If it were not for love like yours, we would not be able to get from where we are to where we need to be.”
When the service was over, the inmate who conducted said, with some emotion in his voice and a little mist in his eyes, “This is the most auspicious occasion of our year. It’s better than Christmas. It’s better than Thanksgiving. It’s even better than Mother’s Day. It’s better because we’re enlightened, and that’s as close as we come to being free.”
Then the gates clanged shut behind my wife and me. That night we went home, and I confess I couldn’t sleep. That experience haunted me. In the early hours of that morning, I had feelings and thoughts and a response to imprisonment and freedom (and their relationship to enlightenment and love) that I never had before.

I returned home early from the Philippines Cebu East Mission. The “what ifs” and not fitting the “returned-missionary mold” made adjusting hard. Since I served in my home country, I struggled with thinking that I had let my branch down and knowing that I did not meet their expectations. Comparing myself to “legit” returned missionaries made me see myself as less worthy or as an outcast.
Eventually, the Lord taught me that a mission is just one of the many ways to serve Him. It is not where or how long but how you serve that counts. He taught me to be humble and to stay on the gospel path even if things get rough and do not go my way.
Jasper Gapuz, Philippines

I remember some years ago getting a letter from a young woman who was awaiting the return of her missionary fiancé in order that they could be married. She outlined in her letter all the things she was doing to prepare herself worthily for that glorious experience. She went to the temple for her endowments before he returned from his mission, and she had the privilege of witnessing some sealings of children to their parents. What a beautiful thing she said it was. She had a great desire that her marriage would be in one of the sacred temples of our God.

An inspired decision is when individuals and families let God Prevail in their lives. I was a 10-year-old boy when we made the inspired decision to accept the Lord’s invitation to join His true Church. With my siblings Tomas, Nodel, and Victor, we followed our parents Francisco and Agripina into the waters of baptism on the morning of March 8, 1981.
My uncle Jacinto, my mother’s brother, was the first in our family to meet the missionaries and accept their message. After his baptism, he introduced us to the missionaries. My parents were members of a prominent faith, and going to church was a family matter and a priority to them. Growing up, I saw how they exemplified their faith by teaching us to pray daily as a family and attend church regularly. Though he had vices, my father taught us to believe in God.
Because I was very young, I did not fully understand the things the missionaries were teaching us. My siblings and I were so eager to join our parents every time the missionaries visited. My father was a chain smoker and it was hard for him to give up his habit but that changed when Elder Richard Irving and Elder Kurt Trotter taught them the Word of Wisdom.
“Your parents were seriously listening to the message, and when we extended the invitation to obey the Word of Wisdom, your father agreed and committed to obey the Lord’s Law of Health and refrain from smoking,” related Brother Irving when we met 43 years later. “As an expression of his faith in the Savior Jesus Christ and his desire to follow Him, your father handed and surrendered to us the pack of cigarettes he had in his possession,” added Brother Irving.
This was truly a faith-promoting experience for me to know that my Father was willing to follow the commandments and change from being a natural man to a man of God. I recalled how Nephi appreciated Lehi for his great example to his family, and how with his example Nephi was able to follow in his footsteps and became a man of God.
Three years after our baptism, I was the only member of our family who still went to Church. My parents and siblings stopped going. Every Sunday my responsibility was to extend the invitation for them to come with me to Church, but I always received the same response: “Just pray for us.”
I set a goal to bring everyone back to Church, so I did my best to be a good example to them and to never be weary of reminding them and extending the invitation to come back. My prayers as a 13-year-old were answered by the Lord and everyone eventually went back to Church activity. Our family was sealed in the Manila Temple in 1992, but sadly my father passed away before he could be sealed with us.
I was in my last year in college when my father died in March 1992. Upon graduation, I had the desire to serve the Lord on a full-time mission. I labored in the Philippines Quezon City Mission from 1993–1995. I took the board exam before I served, and while in the mission field, I received word that I passed!
While in my first area, my mother and other siblings qualified to receive their temple ordinances. I was fortunate enough to have been allowed to participate. I was sealed to my parents in the Manila Philippines Temple. My third missionary companion was given the opportunity to proxy for my father during the sealing. It was a great spiritual experience for our family to receive unparalleled blessing from the Lord.
I believe we received those blessings in part because of my faithful service as a young missionary. Truly, the Lord kept his promise: “But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you” (Matthew 6:33). The Lord is always true to His promises as long as we put Him first in all that we do. No amount of temporal blessings can equal the spiritual blessings of families being sealed for time and all eternity.
The blessings that come as a result of inspired decisions benefit the succeeding generations. After my siblings and I served missions, many other members of our family also went forth to serve, including my children. They experienced the real joy that comes from serving God and our fellow beings. This would not have happened if it weren’t for the righteous example of Elder Irving and Elder Trotter, the two young American missionaries whose inspired decision led to our family’s conversion.
As a token of gratitude to the missionaries who brought the Gospel of Jesus Christ to our family, I did my best to reconnect with them. It was a challenge because the photos and letters they left with us did not have their contact information.
In 2019, while serving as stake president, I was prompted to search the Church Directory of Leaders (CDOL) for their names. I found 10 Richard Irvings in Utah serving as bishops. I decided to contact their clerks. The very first clerk that I emailed responded when I asked if his bishop served as a young missionary in the Philippines in the 1980s.
As I recall, the day that he received the information from his clerk, Bishop Irving was in a mutual activity with the youth of his ward, telling them stories about his mission and about the families he and his companion taught in 1981.
In short, Bishop Irving went back to the Philippines in November 2022 after almost 41 years since his mission. When he came, he brought a letter my father sent to him when he transferred from Tuguegarao to another area. In the letter, my father expressed his joy and his spiritual experiences as a new member, including the joy of receiving the priesthood in a district conference he attended. He expressed his great joy in joining the Church with his family with which no amount of earthly possession can compare.
As an Area Seventy, I have countless opportunities to minister and bless the lives of the people I meet. I am also blessed with experiences I never thought I would have, like attending General Conference and working with prophets, apostles, and other chosen servants of God. While in Utah, I was also blessed to reconnect with my companions in the mission and the family of Bishop Irving. We went to the Jordan River and Provo City Temples with our wives, and the first time we did he whispered “I never thought that this could happen, I was with you in your baptism in 1981, and 42 years after, now we are here together worshiping in the Temple.”
I testify that God lives. He will bless us beyond our expectations if we choose to put Him first in all that we do. As President Thomas S. Monson taught in the April 2002 Conference, “Each of us has the responsibility to choose. You may ask, ‘Are decisions really that important?’ I say to you, decisions determine destiny. You can’t make eternal decisions without eternal consequences.”
I am eternally grateful for the inspired decision that my father and mother made when the missionaries extended the invitation to follow the Savior Jesus Christ. It has truly blessed me, my family, and my posterity. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

My brothers, sister, and I were taught to believe in God, and we said prayers at dinnertime. But that was the extent of our religious education. My mother was raised in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but my father was not. I guess over the years they found it easier to avoid discussing religion than to quarrel over it.
I am the youngest in the family. My brothers and sister are much older and very protective. I believed everything would always be easy.
In my early years at school, my grades were pretty good. But as the years went by, my grades began to drop. My parents often discussed “what to do about Dane.”
They tried to get me to do my assignments, but nothing worked. Teachers, counselors, school administrators, and my parents threatened punishments, but my grades got worse each year. By the time I was in seventh grade, everything was falling apart.
That was also the year our family fell apart. Two weeks after Christmas my parents separated, and later they divorced. My two oldest brothers and my sister had graduated and moved away. That left my brother Lee and me at home with our mother, and Lee was a senior in high school. To make matters worse, we had big financial problems. My mother believed we had hit rock bottom. But that’s when things began to look up.
One day my mom and I had a serious talk. We talked about her upbringing in the Church, and she said she knew she could turn to God for help. She also said she believed if I went to church, it might turn me around in school. I had attended church a few times with a Latter-day Saint friend and had also attended Bible classes at other churches, but my family had not been to church since before I was born. Since my mom was suffering because of the divorce and the loss of income, I didn’t want to add to her problems. I decided to listen to the missionary lessons.
My mother invited Lee to sit in on the lessons too, but he was caught up in his school activities. He sat in on the first discussion, but then he always seemed to have something else to do when the elders visited. My mom and I began attending church together, and things started to feel right. I was baptized that spring. I started studying harder at school, too. And that also helped me feel good inside.
Before joining the Church, I had experimented with cigarettes and alcohol and hung around with kids who made me feel comfortable—kids who were doing poorly in school and who were often with me in the detention class. But when the bishop interviewed me and I made the commitment to get baptized, I promised to obey the Word of Wisdom. I found I liked holding the priesthood, passing the sacrament, and getting praise for doing good things instead of always being in trouble. These positive feelings started to influence my life outside of church. And as I shared my testimony with my friends, I started to see who my true friends really were.
Now, a couple of years after my baptism, I have served as deacons quorum president and as teachers quorum president. I’m on the school’s academic team and have high enough grades to be allowed to play sports. I’ve tried to remain friends with the guys I used to hang around with, but I don’t go out with them much anymore. We’re still on good terms, but we have different interests now. I’m involved in Mutual and have been concentrating on my schoolwork.

Several years ago I spoke at a meeting for members and investigators in the Peru Lima South Mission. I don’t know why I started talking about revelation and the importance of having a prophet. But as I did, I noticed two young men on the first row listening attentively and taking notes. After the meeting, those two young men came to me and said, “You talk about prophets and about revelation. We thought that there weren’t any prophets after John the Baptist.” The young men had been sent by the local priest to find out what I said. I had to leave on an airplane soon and didn’t have time to explain more about prophets and revelation. However, I did tell them that if they wanted to have personal revelation, they should read the Book of Mormon and follow the counsel in Moroni 10. I gave them each a Book of Mormon and marked Moroni 10:4–5 [Moro. 10:4–5]. Three months later, I received a letter from those young men telling me that they had been baptized. One year later, I received another letter saying that they were both preparing to go on missions. The Book of Mormon was what converted them.

“I feel the Footprints have had a real missionary impact on the people around them,” said Jane Gardner. “After one show a boy who’d only been away from home a few months came up to me and told me our program had made him so proud it had brought tears to his eyes. He then said he’d met a Mormon once but had lost contact with him, and he asked me if I could please tell him a little about the Church.”
Jane bore her testimony and set up an appointment for the boy to receive the missionary lessons. “Any effort we put into that tour was worth it,” she added, “because we touched one person.”

Elder Glenn L. Pace told a wonderful story that illustrates my point:

When I was in junior high school, I would get out of bed on cold winter mornings and head for the heat vent to get warm. The family cat would always beat me there, so I would gently shoo her away and sit down. Soon my mother would tell me it was time to leave for school. I would look out at the icicles on the house and dread going out into the cold, let alone beginning another day of school.

As I kissed my mother good-bye and went out the door, I would look longingly at my comfortable spot in front of the heat vent and find that the cat had repossessed it. How I envied that cat! If that weren’t enough, she would look up at me with heavy eyelids and an expression that seemed to laugh at me and say, “Have fun in school, Glenn. I’m sure glad I’m not a human.” I hated it when she did that.

However, an interesting thing would happen as the day went on. I would come home after experiencing the joys and sorrows of the school day and see that lazy cat still curled up in front of the vent, and I would smile and say to her, “I’m sure glad I’m not a cat.” [Glenn L. Pace, Spiritual Plateaus (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1991), pp. 84–85]

Years after Elder Bednar left Arkansas, a man walked into a priesthood interview in a rural stake in Idaho. He was carrying a well-worn set of scriptures. He noticed that the General Authority conducting the interview seemed curious about the scriptures he was holding so carefully. He smiled, held the scriptures up, and said, “When I was young, I was a soldier in the army in Arkansas. I was in President Bednar’s stake. I feel better when I have my scriptures with me.”

In 1997 David A. Bednar was appointed president of Ricks College in Rexburg, Idaho. At that time it was the largest private junior college in the United States, with 8,500 students. In his first meeting with the faculty and staff, he said: “I’ve never been a president of a college before. I don’t know how to do this. But I do know some things about teaching, and I hope that foundation will at least provide a beginning.”

He began teaching as he began to lead the college, and he never stopped. He taught a class in religion every term. He and Sister Bednar invited students to come to family home evenings where they were taught from the scriptures and through inspired questions. In the years they were in Rexburg, close to 35,000 students were blessed with such evenings with the Bednars.

In June 2000 President Bednar learned that the decision had been made to transform Ricks College into a four-year institution called Brigham Young University—Idaho. Ricks College officially became BYU–Idaho on August 10, 2001. In less than three years, by the summer of 2004, the university was able to announce that it had received academic accreditation. That significant institutional achievement was accomplished despite the lack of forewarning of the change in the school’s status.

Not only did President Bednar take the lead in making the changes necessary to give four-year baccalaureate degrees, but the college became a university designed to be a unique educational experiment. It is to be a place of innovative education while building at its very heart faith in the gospel of Jesus Christ.

The traditional academic year, in which students enter in the fall and leave in the spring, was replaced. A student would be admitted to start any semester during the year. The idea was to fill the campus to capacity throughout the year. More students could attend. The year-round schedule would make it possible for students to take internships away from campus at times other than the usual summer break.

There would be no academic rank for the faculty. That put the focus on teaching students rather than on traditional faculty status and prestige. There would be no intercollegiate athletics. They would be replaced with an activity program that allowed all the students who wished to participate and compete in social, leadership, artistic, and athletic events.

There had to be a plan created to develop new courses, to hire faculty, and to design and build the space for an expanded school. President Bednar chose to involve as many of the staff and faculty members as he could. They had to participate in making changes that would require great and sometimes difficult adjustments in their own lives.

President Bednar described the experience this way: “I can think of few things that have driven me to my knees more earnestly and frequently than the announcement by President Hinckley that Ricks College would become Brigham Young University—Idaho.

“On the evening before the announcement was to be made, one colleague asked, ‘President, are you scared?’ As best I can recall, I answered: ‘If I thought we had to execute this transition relying exclusively upon our own experience and our own judgment, then I would be terrified. But we will have help from heaven. Because we know who is in charge and that we are not alone, then no, I am not scared.’”

President Bednar went on to say: “I have come to know that President Hinckley’s vision concerning the future of BYU–Idaho is not really about two-year or four-year status. It is not really about academic rank or athletics. And it is not really about a name change. This announcement is about faith—faith in the future. Given all the changes that have taken place at this institution in a relatively short period of time, I testify that miracles have occurred, revelations have been received, and doors have been opened, and we have been greatly blessed as individuals and as an institution. These truly are days never to be forgotten.”

Robert Wilkes, who as student life vice president worked closely with President Bednar and who is now the interim president of BYU–Idaho, describes how President Bednar led the change: “It took courage. He faced very strong opposition from a few, but he changed some hearts and he exercised patience with those who struggled with letting go of the past.

“He instantly set out a vision of transition. He never wavered. The people knew that he was totally loyal to the prophet and to the board of trustees. But they knew he would take issues to the board with energy and commitment when it was appropriate. It was hard for others to stray when he was so clearly in line himself.

“He made it clear that he expected people to welcome change. He built support by teaching that great change comes ‘line upon line, precept upon precept.’ He recognized the power of the students. One part of the vision was that students would be teaching students. He involved the students enough that in many cases they converted faculty and employees to certain elements of the transition to BYU–Idaho.

“He was quick to give credit to others in public and private ways. He always tied the transition to the larger good of the Church by showing how BYU–Idaho would be a tool for service in the kingdom. He understood and taught that the changes would allow students to come to the school who could have never had the chance. He seemed to view every experience as an opportunity for spiritual insight.”

Elder Bednar is remarkable for his willingness to include everyone and to trust that everyone will have valuable insights. One who saw that firsthand was Betty Oldham, his secretary. She says of President Bednar: “He is never afraid to let others take charge. While he clearly provides oversight and focus, he lets those with direct responsibility shine.

“He sees the whole picture, but he doesn’t try to micromanage. He has taught us that we should act as agents rather than be acted upon. And he has provided opportunities for us to exercise that agency. With him, everyone has a voice and is free to express ideas and opinions, even if those opinions are 180 degrees opposite to where everyone else is headed. No one is ever made to feel uncomfortable about what he or she has said. The concept of counseling in councils has taken on a new dimension for the whole campus. He has always made me feel that my opinion is valued.”

By such leadership, a family has been united and the Church established more firmly in Arkansas. A college has become a great university, and the people who study and serve there have been raised to new heights.

Elder Bednar’s great capacity to lift others and his courage to do whatever the Lord asks of him come from his witness of Jesus Christ. He has paid the price of prayer, scripture study, and personal testing to qualify as a special witness of the Savior. He will not need to change habits or patterns as he answers the call to the apostleship. His life gives evidence that what he said at the end of his first general conference address will be true: “I will go where the Lord and the leaders of His Church want me to go, I will do what they want me to do, I will teach what they want me to teach, and I will strive to become what I should and must become. In the strength of the Lord and through His grace, I know that you and I can be blessed to accomplish all things.”

A true story from Ghana.
Anane grinned as he walked through the street. The smell of frying fish and the busy chatter of people filled the market. He was on his way to Uncle’s house. Mum had given Anane some money to give to Uncle.
He looked around at all the stands selling produce, foods, and other items. Then something caught his eye.
There was a food stand that had two of his very favorite treats, toffee and biscuits. He looked at the money Mum gave him. One hundred cedis is a lot, he thought. His favorite treats were only 10 cedis. Uncle probably wouldn’t even notice if some was missing.
Anane bought the treats. He popped a toffee into his mouth and kept walking to Uncle’s house.
Uncle was standing outside his house as Anane walked up.
“If it isn’t little Anane! Come on over,” said Uncle. “What can I do for you?”
“I brought you some money from Mum.” Anane handed him the money, then put his hands back in his pockets. Would Uncle notice that some of the money was missing? He watched as Uncle counted it.
“Thank you for bringing this over,” Uncle said.
Anane was glad Uncle didn’t notice the missing money. He said goodbye and started the long walk home. On the way, he finished eating his toffee and biscuits.
“How was the walk to Uncle’s?” Mum asked when Anane got home.
He shrugged. “It was good.”
“Thank you for taking that money to him for me,” said Mum.
Anane looked down at the floor. He started to feel guilty. What if his parents found out he had spent some of the money? He didn’t want to lose their trust.
The next morning, Mum asked Anane to buy some things at a nearby shop. “Come straight home after you are done at the shop, OK?”
“OK.” Anane walked through the market, but he didn’t stop to buy anything. He scrunched his eyebrows and thought, This time I’m going to do exactly what Mum asked.
As soon as he was done, he went right home. He gave Mum all the leftover money.
That Sunday, Anane went to his Primary class. “Good morning!” his teacher said. “Today we are talking about obedience. It is important for us to listen to our parents and make good choices.”
Anane thought about the money he spent on the toffee and biscuits. He felt his stomach drop. He knew he had made a wrong choice.
After church, Anane wanted to talk to his parents. His heart was racing.
“Mum, Dad? You know the money you gave me to take to Uncle?” Anane asked. “Well, I bought some treats with some of it.” He looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you for being honest,” Dad said. “I’m proud of you.”
Anane smiled. He was so happy that he told the truth. And he felt good inside after telling his parents. He was already making a better choice.

Ninth President of the Church
David O. McKay’s witness of the truthfulness of the gospel came during his mission to Scotland. He attended a priesthood meeting where “everybody felt the rich outpouring of the spirit of the Lord.” He later recalled: “Never before had I experienced such an emotion. It was a manifestation for which as a doubting youth I had secretly prayed most earnestly on hillside and in meadow. It was an assurance to me that sincere prayer is answered ‘sometime, somewhere.’” It was during this same conference that Elder McKay’s mission president told him, “If you will keep the faith you will yet sit in the leading [councils] of the Church” (“Two Significant Statements,” Deseret News, 27 October 1934, 8).

I should like to give you another example. One of our most respected community-minded citizens began to act as though his feelings had been hurt and to stay away from socials where, in the past, he had gone and taken a most active part. People started accusing him of being a sorehead, a poor sport, antisocial, etc., and even evaded him whenever possible. Later, a medical diagnosis showed he was suffering from a brain tumor, which had been the cause of his lack of interest in activities that he had previously attended and even sponsored.

“Michael and Carson, I could use your help today,” Dad said, putting on his work shoes. Brian’s older brothers were watching TV, and they hardly moved.
“C’mon, guys,” Dad said. “Hard work is good for you.”
“OK. But what’re we doing anyway?” Michael muttered.
“We’re planting some bushes along the front of the house. I’ll need help digging and hauling dirt. It’ll be fun working together.”
“Doesn’t sound like fun to me,” said Carson.
Brian frowned. He didn’t really want to spend his whole Saturday working either. Plus, it was going to be hot today. But Dad said he needed help. “I’ll help,” Brian said.
“That’s really nice of you, Brian. But the ground is hard clay, so it’s going to be a tough job. And hauling off the dirt won’t be easy with that steep hill next to our house.”
“I can do it,” said Brian.
His older brothers looked at Brian doubtfully. After all, he was only eight years old.
“OK, boys,” said Dad, “let’s get to work.”
Dad was right. The ground was so hard they had to use a pickax to loosen it up. But while Michael and Carson were off tossing dirt at each other, Brian and Dad finished digging the first hole.
Once the wheelbarrow was full, Dad asked Michael to dump it in the woods near the house. To get there he would have to go partway down and across a steep hill.
“I don’t think I can do it,” Michael said, pushing the wheelbarrow only a few feet. “It’s too heavy. I’ll fall down the hill!”
Carson gave it a try next. “Too heavy!” he agreed. “Dad’s the only one strong enough for that.”
That’s when Brian stepped forward. “I can do it,” he said. He lifted with all his might. He started pushing the wheelbarrow forward slowly.
“That’s OK, Brian. I’ll get—” Dad began. But Brian was determined.
“There’s no way you can make it!” said Michael.
As the hill got steeper, Brian got faster and faster. Now he wasn’t pushing the wheelbarrow; it was pulling him! Dad started after him, but Brian held on tight and steered it to the right. He slowed it down just enough to stop it in front of the bushes at the edge of the yard. Then he heaved it over with a mighty shove and dumped the load.
“Whoa!” said Michael.
“No way!” said Carson.
“You definitely win the prize for hardest worker today,” said Dad as Brian climbed back up the hill.
“Phew!” said Brian, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “I’m just glad I made it back alive!” Everyone laughed.
When the wheelbarrow was filled again, Michael said, “I’ve got this load.” They all watched as he slowly followed Brian’s pathway down the hill and over to the trees, where he dumped another load of dirt. Michael was breathing hard when he got back.
“That was tough,” Michael said, wiping the sweat from his face. “I still can’t believe you did that all on your own, Brian.”
Sometimes hard work just sounds so hard. But when you finish you feel so good!
“Yeah! How did you do that?” Carson asked, stretching his arms after hauling the next load.
Before too long the new bushes were planted. Brian had never been so hot and sweaty and tired. But he was glad he could do a hard day’s work with his Dad and brothers. It really had been fun working together.