Gospel Story Finder

I had never failed a class until Popularity 101. I didn’t know such a class existed or that I was even enrolled until the grades started coming in: kind of nerdy, jokes aren’t funny, uncoordinated, goofy hair, and so on.
The problem with this class is that there’s no teacher, there’s no textbook or study material, and the grading is based entirely on the opinions of your peers. In the beginning I didn’t even know what popularity was. All I knew was others had it; I did not.
The grading got tougher at age 13, when I began junior high school. Apparently, there wasn’t anything cool about me. I was becoming desperate. I was ready to do anything to be accepted. In my math class, I saw popular kids cheating on homework. Everyone was doing it. It seemed a small price to pay to be part of the group.
“Are you cheating?” asked Curtis, the student next to me.
“No,” I lied, amazed at how easily one dishonesty followed another.
I realized two things at that moment. First, “everyone’s doing it” is a poor excuse. What I was doing was wrong no matter who was doing it. Second, not “everyone’s doing it.” Curtis wasn’t cheating, and he had lots of friends.
I started watching Curtis. I tried sitting next to him when we had classes together. He didn’t swear; he didn’t cheat; he didn’t lie; he didn’t make fun of other people. This guy was straight out of the For the Strength of Youth pamphlet. I wanted to be just like him.
Then one day something amazing happened.
It was lunchtime, the worst part of the day. “Cafeteria” was just another name for “Popularity Exam Room.” As I was once again faced with choosing to sit alone or to sit with people who challenged my standards, Curtis invited me to sit with him. His friends accepted me.
I’m convinced that single act saved me. While many of those I could have hung around with passed Popularity 101, many of them are in danger of failing life—having chosen paths that led them into serious problems such as addictions to tobacco, drugs, or pornography.
Through Curtis, I learned I could have fun and keep high standards. I learned that doing what’s right is cool. And I learned a secret about popularity—it’s Satan’s counterfeit for true friendship.
There’s nothing wrong with having friends; what’s important is how we go about gaining them. Popularity 101 (the world’s way) teaches to focus on yourself and what you have to do to be accepted by others—whether it’s swearing, drinking, smoking, or in my case cheating. True friendship (the Lord’s way) teaches to focus on others, to lift them so they feel accepted by you. This is accomplished through love, kindness, sincerity, and, like Curtis, having the Spirit so others feel comfortable around you.
Curtis and his friends weren’t enrolled in Popularity 101; they were enrolled in Living the Gospel. This class has all sorts of helpful textbooks—the scriptures, Church magazines, For the Strength of Youth. Classes are offered at general conference, in seminary, and every Sunday at church. There’s a tutor who will work with you anytime—the Holy Ghost. Best of all, this class is graded by a loving Savior.
I still flunked Popularity 101. But thanks to some guys who had learned to love others as themselves, I’m now studying with the Master Teacher so I can pass life.

The year was 1876. Warren N. Dunsenberry, first principal of Brigham Young Academy, had just resigned after the first preliminary term of the academy’s existence. Karl G. Maeser, an experienced educator who was also the first convert to the Church in Germany, had been called to take his place. He dropped by President Young’s office before leaving for Provo and asked if there were any instructions.
“Only this,” the president replied. “I want you to remember that you ought not to teach even the alphabet or the multiplication tables without the spirit of God. That is all. God bless you. Goodbye.”
Karl G. Maeser went to Provo and became an unforgettable force in the lives of the 29 students awaiting him there and in the lives of the many students who were to come under his influence during the 16 years of his administration. The faculty that first year consisted of Dr. Maeser and two assistants. Classes were held in a vacant store, and the students were mostly from Utah Valley.
Ninety-six years later a tall, well-built, rather handsome, youngish but balding man walked into a cafeteria on the BYU campus and sat down at a table where two freshmen boys were discussing the vicissitudes of college life over their roast beef dinner and green punch. He began asking them questions about their feelings, their likes, their dislikes, and their hang-ups regarding their university experience.
Finally one of the young men asked him, “Do you teach around here or something?”
“Yes, I work here,” the man replied.
“What do you do?”
“I’m president.”
“President of what?”
And so Dallin H. Oaks, president of Brigham Young University, introduced himself to these students. “I’m glad to meet you,” the young man with the questions responded. “I come to assemblies, but you’re so far away I can’t see your face.”

When I was 16, I moved into a Taiwanese ward. Ken, a 13-year-old, had recently been baptized. But shortly after his baptism, Ken almost never attended church. I had a great desire to help Ken come back to church. I invited him to come to several Church activities. Ken played basketball at Mutual and joined the youth choir. He and his sister, Linda, also began to attend the free English classes taught by my family and the missionaries. Soon Linda began to attend youth activities as well. I could see God’s hand helping us.
Ken’s family wondered why my family tried to help Ken and Linda. We told them that the gospel had brought us great joy, and we really wanted others to find the same joy and peace from the Savior. Later, Linda and Ken accepted our invitation to go to church. Linda came and had an awesome experience. However, Ken was ill, and when I prayed about what I could do to help him, I felt impressed that we should bring him the sacrament. With the bishop’s permission, our family went over to his house, and my brother and I helped administer the sacrament to him. We also visited with his family. I felt peaceful.
Our family has prayed for Ken, and all of us feel love for Ken and his family. The youth and adults in the ward and stake continue to fellowship Ken and Linda. The members’ combined efforts to minister are helping Ken and Linda feel the love of the Savior. This experience of trying to minister like the Savior has brought great joy to my life. Ministering is the Lord’s work, and because it is His work, His hand will guide our ministering efforts.

Brothers and sisters, I have learned a painful lesson since I last occupied this pulpit in October of 2022. That lesson is: if you don’t give an acceptable talk, you can be banned for the next several conferences. You can see I am assigned early in the first session of this one. What you can’t see is that I am positioned on a trapdoor with a very delicate latch. If this talk doesn’t go well, I won’t see you for another few conferences.
In the spirit of that beautiful hymn with this beautiful choir, I have learned some lessons recently that, with the Lord’s help, I wish to share with you today. That will make this a very personal talk.
The most personal and painful of all these recent experiences has been the passing of my beloved wife, Pat. She was the greatest woman I have ever known—a perfect wife and mother, to say nothing of her purity, her gift of expression, her spirituality. She gave a talk once titled “Fulfilling the Measure of Your Creation.” It seems to me that she fulfilled the measure of her creation more successfully than anyone could have dreamed possible. She was a complete daughter of God, an exemplary woman of Christ. I was the most fortunate of men to spend 60 years of my life with her. Should I prove worthy, our sealing means I can spend eternity with her.
Another experience began 48 hours after my wife’s burial. At that time, I was rushed to the hospital in an acute medical crisis. I then spent the first four weeks of a six-week stay in and out of intensive care and in and out of consciousness.
Virtually all my experience in the hospital during that first period is lost to my memory. What is not lost is my memory of a journey outside the hospital, out to what seemed the edge of eternity. I cannot speak fully of that experience here, but I can say that part of what I received was an admonition to return to my ministry with more urgency, more consecration, more focus on the Savior, more faith in His word.
I couldn’t help but feel I was receiving my own personal version of a revelation given to the Twelve nearly 200 years ago:
“Thou shalt bear record of my name … [and] send forth my word unto the ends of the earth. …
“… Morning by morning; and day after day let thy warning voice go forth; and when the night cometh let not the inhabitants of the earth slumber, because of thy speech. …
“Arise[,] … take up your cross, [and] follow me.”
My beloved sisters and brothers, since that experience, I have tried to take up my cross more earnestly, with more resolve to find where I can raise an apostolic voice of both warmth and warning in the morning, during the day, and into the night.
That leads me to a third truth that came in those months of loss, illness, and distress. It was a renewed witness of and endless gratitude for the resolute prayers of this Church—your prayers—of which I have been the beneficiary. I will be eternally grateful for the supplication of thousands of people who, like the importuning widow, repeatedly sought heaven’s intervention in my behalf. I received priesthood blessings, and I saw my high school class fast for me, as did several random wards across the Church. And my name must have been on the prayer roll of virtually every temple in the Church.
In my profound gratitude for all this, I join G. K. Chesterton, who said once “that thanks are the highest form of thought; and … gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.” With my own “happiness doubled by wonder,” I thank all of you and thank my Father in Heaven, who heard your prayers and blessed my life.
Brothers and sisters, I testify that God hears every prayer we offer and responds to each of them according to the path He has outlined for our perfection. I recognize that at roughly the same time so many were praying for the restoration of my health, an equal number—including me—were praying for the restoration of my wife’s health. I testify that both of those prayers were heard and answered by a divinely compassionate Heavenly Father, even if the prayers for Pat were not answered the way I asked. It is for reasons known only to God why prayers are answered differently than we hope—but I promise you they are heard and they are answered according to His unfailing love and cosmic timetable.

Jesse A. Udall tells this story of President Kimball’s childhood:
“For years he had a record of perfect attendance at Sunday School and Primary. One Monday he was in the field tramping hay for his older brothers when the meetinghouse bell rang for Primary.
“‘I’ve got to go to Primary,’ he timidly suggested.
“‘You can’t go today; we need you,’ they said.
“‘Well, Father would let me go, if he were here,’ the boy countered.
“‘Father isn’t here,’ they said, ‘and you are not going.’
“The piles of hay came pouring up, literally covering Spencer, but finally he had caught up; sliding noiselessly from the back of the wagon, he was halfway to the meetinghouse before his absence was noticed, and his perfect record remained unbroken.” (“The Apostle from Arizona,” Improvement Era, October 1943, p. 591.)

When I was a child, my dad worked far away and always came home when it was pitch dark. I would stay awake until he came home. But one day he was very late, and I couldn’t reach him on the phone. I was very scared. I remembered that my parents had taught me to pray always and to ask for help whenever I was scared, so I knelt down and prayed that my father would return home safely. To my surprise, as I ended my prayer, I heard my dad’s bike outside. I was so grateful to my Heavenly Father for watching over my father.

One of the first buildings that the Saints built in Independence was a schoolhouse for their children. Education is still very important. Even when she isn’t in school, Julianne loves getting old textbooks from a neighbor across the street and playing school with her sister Jaime (10). Although Julianne loves school and does very well in most subjects, sometimes spelling words can be a trial to her. If she gets frustrated, her sister Jennie (16) helps her learn the words.

I came to understand more fully the relationship between the “priesthood” rocket and the “opportunity to benefit from Christ’s atoning power” payload several years ago. During a weekend, I had two assignments. One was to create the first stake in a country, and the other was to interview a young man and, if all was in order, restore his priesthood and temple blessings. This 30-year-old man had joined the Church in his late teens. He served an honorable mission. But when he returned home, he lost his way, and he lost his membership in the Church. After some years, “he came to himself,”22 and with the help of loving priesthood leaders and kind members, he repented and was readmitted by baptism into the Church.

Later, he applied to have his priesthood and temple blessings restored. We set an appointment for Saturday at 10:00 a.m. at the meetinghouse. When I arrived for the earlier interviews, he was already there. He was so anxious to have the priesthood once again, he just could not wait.

During our interview, I showed him the letter explaining that President Thomas S. Monson had personally reviewed his application and authorized the interview. This otherwise stoic young man wept. I then told him that the date of our interview would have no official meaning in his life. He looked puzzled. I informed him that after I restored his blessings, his membership record would show only his original baptism, confirmation, priesthood ordination, and endowment dates. He choked up again.

I asked him to read from the Doctrine and Covenants:
“Behold, he who has repented of his sins, the same is forgiven, and I, the Lord, remember them no more.
“By this ye may know if a man repenteth of his sins—behold, he will confess them and forsake them.”23

Tears filled his eyes a third time. Then I placed my hands on his head, and in the name of Jesus Christ and by the authority of the Melchizedek Priesthood, and with the authorization of the President of the Church, I restored his priesthood and temple blessings.

The joy that came over us was profound. He knew he was once again authorized to hold and exercise the priesthood of God. He knew that his temple blessings were again fully operative. He had a bounce in his step and a radiant light about him. I was so proud of him, and I sensed how proud Heavenly Father was of him too.

Thereafter, the stake was organized. The meetings were well attended by enthusiastic, faithful Saints, and a wonderful stake presidency was sustained. However, for me, the historic occasion of organizing this first stake in a country was overshadowed by the joy I felt in restoring the blessings to this young man.

Klarie dribbled hard and fast down the court. This is it, she thought. The tallest, fastest girl on the team had been guarding Klarie the whole game. But now she was guarding someone else. This was Klarie’s chance!
She quickly spun away from another player and set her feet. Then she jumped and took her shot. The ball sailed through the air as Klarie held her breath. Please go in.
The ball swished through the net.
Klarie’s team members gave her high fives. Then Coach Garcia looked down at the timer and blew her whistle. “And that’s the end of practice! Good job, everyone! I’ll see you all tomorrow. Make sure to rest up because we’ll be doing a lot of sprints.”
Klarie groaned and walked over to gather her stuff. Then she saw Coach Garcia waving her over.
“Hey, Klarie,” she said. “Good job today. I know you work really hard in practice, and I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you,” Klarie said with a big smile.
She was still smiling as she walked out to her mom’s car. As they drove home, she replayed her last shot in her head. Especially the swish of the ball through the net. She hardly even noticed the conference talk Mom was listening to.
But then something caught her attention. The speaker said, “We must take time to actively exercise our faith.”* The words “actively exercise” sounded like something she would hear at basketball practice. How do you exercise faith? she thought. Do you run with faith? Or dribble faith like a ball?
Klarie turned to Mom. “How do you exercise faith?” she asked.
Mom smiled. “How do you get better at basketball?”
“I practice,” Klarie said. “My coach tells me how to get better. And when we do drills, I try really hard to do them right.”
“Is it easy?”
“No!” Klarie said, remembering how tired her legs felt after sprints. “I have to practice a lot.”
Mom nodded. “Heavenly Father wants us to have faith in Him, but we have to work on it. He gave us ways to practice and get better.”
“Like what?”
“He asks us to talk to Him in prayer. He’s kind of like our coach. He gives us scriptures. They’re like His playbook. And He gives us families to help us. Our family is like—”
“Like our team!” Klarie interrupted.
“Exactly! Our family team works and practices together,” Mom said. “And what happens when you go to practice, Klarie?”
“I get better,” she said. She thought of how good it felt to make her final shot after working hard in practice for weeks.
“That’s right. When we practice spiritual habits, like prayer, we’re exercising our faith. That helps our testimonies get stronger. And it makes us happier.”
Klarie had never thought of faith like that. She had heard faith was like a seed. But she’d never known it could be like playing basketball! She thought about how her coach made practice plans for their team. Maybe I can make a practice plan too, she thought, but for faith! As soon as she got home, she found a big notepad and started writing:
Prayer—morning and night
Scripture study—every day
Church—every Sunday
Maybe exercising faith wasn’t exactly like practicing basketball. But practice was practice. She felt warm and happy inside as she looked at her plan. She trusted Heavenly Father and knew He would help her!
See Primary manual, pages 121–122, 126–127; family manual, page 123.

Besides working on fellowshipping, the youth spend a lot of time doing missionary work. The full-time missionaries in Dauphin started teaching Sherry Sinclair the discussions. “She didn’t really want to come to church, but she came one time,” says Kirsten. “Kayleen and I said, ‘Hey! Another person! This is great!’ So we got to know her, and she’s a really cool person. She and I just connected, and we’re awesome friends now.”
Kayleen says, “We tried to welcome her. It’s not very often that we get new people, so it was exciting for us. We tried the best we could to make her feel comfortable and encourage her.” Sherry joined the Church last year.

In 1975 Russell M. Nelson, at that time the general president of the Sunday School, visited Prague, commissioned by President Spencer W. Kimball to bless the Czechoslovak members. “I remember speaking with Brother and Sister Nelson about our desires to go to the temple—and our fears that we would never have that possibility in our lifetimes,” says Sister Snederfler. “Brother Nelson said, ‘Sister, one day you will come to Salt Lake City to the temple.’ As impossible as that sounded, I clung to that promise.” Four years later it came true.

In the spring of 1979, Jirí and Olga received an invitation from the First Presidency to attend general conference in Salt Lake City that fall and to receive their temple ordinances. After years of being denied visas to travel to Switzerland to the nearest temple, they despaired of ever receiving permission to travel to Utah.

One day, Jirí told some friends at work about the situation. One of his colleagues told him that the next morning she would bring him the necessary forms to fill out—and that she would take care of the rest. Within a few days Jirí and Olga had received permission to travel to the United States and had obtained American entry visas and airplane tickets! They attended the October 1979 general conference in Salt Lake City; afterward they were endowed and sealed in the temple.

“Did a miracle happen? Yes!” Jirí says. “The Lord sent us a friend who knew the way to get the permission—and he influenced the hearts of those who were deciding regarding the visa. When the First Presidency extends an invitation, no power on earth can thwart that plan!”

“It was a wonder, a miracle,” says Sister Snederfler.

The temple changed the Snederflers forever. “Suddenly our spiritual eyes and ears were fully opened,” he says. “We heard and saw ‘the mysteries of God’ and felt we must serve Heavenly Father better. And we knew we would have more opportunities for temple service.”

As a young missionary in the Language Training Mission (the predecessor to the Missionary Training Center) preparing to go to Hamburg, Germany, Carl Bert Cook struggled to learn German. While he tried to grasp basic vocabulary, members of his district quickly moved on to more complex concepts.
Frustrated by his lack of progress, young Elder Cook sought divine help through a priesthood blessing and prayer. After one particularly heartfelt prayer, Elder Cook remembers receiving a specific answer: the Lord hadn’t called him to master the German language but to serve with all of his heart, mind, and strength.
“I immediately thought, ‘I can do that,’” says Elder Cook, recently called as a member of the First Quorum of the Seventy. “‘I can serve with all of my heart, mind, and strength.’ I stood up and felt a sense of relief. All of a sudden, my measuring stick changed from how my companion and district members were doing to how the Lord felt that I was doing.”
Although Elder Cook says that he didn’t necessarily learn the language more quickly after that experience, he no longer felt his previous concerns because he knew that he was doing what the Lord wanted him to do. That lesson, he says, has been important in all of the callings he’s held since, including bishop, counselor in a stake presidency, stake president, president of the New Zealand Auckland Mission, Area Seventy, and now in his current assignment.

Early in our married life, when Sister Nelson and I lived in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in the United States, we decided to enjoy a free afternoon with our two-year-old daughter. We went to one of Minnesota’s many beautiful lakes and rented a small boat. After rowing far from shore, we stopped to relax and enjoy the tranquil scene. Suddenly our little toddler lifted one leg out of the boat and started to go overboard, exclaiming, “Time to get out, Daddy!”
Quickly we caught her and explained, “No, dear, it isn’t time to get out; we must stay in the boat until it brings us safely back to land.” We had a hard time convincing her that leaving the boat early would lead to disaster.

Brigham Young was also identified for leadership early in life. As a young convert to the Church, thirty-one years of age, he came to visit the Prophet Joseph Smith in Kirtland, Ohio. Brigham met Joseph initially in the woods near Kirtland, when Joseph was chopping and hauling wood. That evening a special meeting of these famous men of history took place. Brigham Young later recounted:
“In the evening a few of the brethren came in, and we conversed together upon the things of the kingdom. He (the Prophet) called upon me to pray; in my prayer I spoke in tongues. As soon as we arose from our knees the brethren flocked around him, and asked his opinion concerning the gift of tongues that was upon me. He told them it was the pure Adamic language. Some said to him they expected he would condemn the gift Brother Brigham had, but he said, ‘No, it is of God, and the time will come when brother Brigham Young will preside over this Church.’ The latter part of this conversation was in my absence.”
Thus the Lord had shown his hand twelve years before the event, and his eyes were already upon Brigham, watching and guiding him in his life. But Brigham Young had many lessons to learn, and the following twelve years were filled with trials and difficult decisions, all of which led to a purposeful end.

For you to feel that urgency, I first share the story of Noelle Pikus-Pace, one of those Latter-day Saint athletes. In Noelle’s event, the skeleton, athletes build momentum as they sprint and then plunge headfirst on a small sled. With their faces inches above the ground, they race down a winding, icy track at speeds that top 90 miles (145 km) an hour.
Remarkably, years of preparation would be considered either a success or a disappointment based on what happened in the space of four intense 60-second runs.
Noelle’s previous 2006 Olympic dreams were dashed when a terrible accident left her with a broken leg. In the 2010 Olympics her dreams fell short again when just over one-tenth of a second kept her from the medal stand.
Can you imagine the anxiety she felt as she waited to begin her first run in the 2014 Olympics? Years of preparation would culminate in only a sliver of time. Four minutes total. She spent years preparing for those four minutes and would spend a lifetime afterward reflecting on them.
Noelle’s final runs were virtually flawless! We will never forget her leap into the stands to embrace her family after crossing the finish line, exclaiming, “We did it!” Years of preparation had paid off. We saw her Young Women medallion around her neck as the silver medal was placed there beside it.
It may seem unfair that Noelle’s entire Olympic dreams hinged on what she did during just four brief minutes. But she knew it, and that is why she prepared so diligently. She sensed the magnitude, the urgency of her four minutes, and what they would mean for the rest of her life.

I mentioned the young man in another setting. Later I received an unsigned letter that began, “Elder Gong, my wife and I have raised nine kids … and served two missions.” But “I always felt I would not be allowed in the celestial kingdom … because my sins as a youth were so bad!”

The letter continued, “Elder Gong, when you told about the young man gaining hope of forgiveness, I was filled with joy, beginning to realize that maybe I [could be forgiven].” The letter concludes, “I even like myself now!”

In May, prior to her entering the Miss Utah Pageant contest, Sally found time to enjoy a two-week foreign language tour in Mexico.
There an older Mexican friend, charmed by the stunning blonde with an Acapulco tan, exclaimed, “You seem so happy all of the time. How can I be as happy as you?” Sally answered him without hesitation, “I am happy because I know that I am a daughter of God. And you are my brother. You can be happy too if you will become a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”

I can say, as Nephi said, that I was “born of goodly parents” (1 Ne. 1:1). During World War II my father was captured by the Germans when they invaded Belgium. He escaped and disappeared into the underground (an opposition group). As a young child, I remember seeing my father only once or twice. He made very short visits, then disappeared again into the underground, where he was a radio operator.
Even when the war was over, he didn’t come home right away but went to Germany with the Belgian army. Then he was assigned to another city in Belgium. Fortunately, my mother was a very strong and faithful person. When my father was away, she was the head and the strength of the family.
We were not Latter-day Saints, but I have always had faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. That has never been in doubt for me. I don’t know where my faith came from. I grew up in a typical European home. We did not go to church, and we never prayed in our home. Yet as a child, I knew. I had faith. It was a spiritual gift I could never deny.
As a teenager, I lived with my family on a hill in Namur, Belgium. We often noticed missionaries pushing their bicycles slowly uphill or riding swiftly back down. One day they came to our house. Knowing they were Americans, we were curious and invited them in. It was 1951, and I was about 16 years old.
When the missionaries started talking about religion, we four children were not too interested, but my mother listened and kept inviting them back. As they taught her, she gained a testimony of the Church. Then came the question of baptism. My mother’s parents didn’t want her to be baptized, and my father was in Germany in the army. He came back only once a month for a two- or three-day visit. My mother got his permission, however, and was baptized. But he insisted that we children wait and make our own decisions when we were older.
In the meantime, we attended church with our mother. I went mostly because I wanted to perfect my English. I participated in the youth activities. It was a very good experience because I learned how to sing, dance, and act in the theater. I became acquainted not only with the Church but with the missionaries. I was getting closer to them in age, and we became good friends. They were in our home at least two or three times a week.
When I turned 21, I attended college in Liège, a city about 65 kilometers from home. The missionaries challenged me to be baptized, and I had to make a choice. It was a matter of testimony. I had questions about the Book of Mormon. I was 95 percent converted, but I needed a spiritual confirmation. The missionaries helped me find it by teaching me to pray, praying with me, and helping me recognize the answers I received. I was soon baptized. Since that time in that small branch, I have continued to grow in the gospel.
My faith helped me when I experienced peer pressure. I was the only member of the Church in college and later in Belgium’s air force. To resist temptations, I had to turn somewhere. I could not just turn to a magazine or a book. I had to have the internal strength that comes from a testimony of Jesus Christ. Once you have faith and rely on it, you will be strengthened even more. Faith becomes your determining factor in making decisions and moving forward.
My father never did join the Church, but he was a fervent supporter of it because he could see its blessings in the lives of his wife and four children. (My sister and two brothers were also baptized.) Prior to his death, he asked me to give him a priesthood blessing, and I did. We had a very special conversation, and he confided in me for the first time that he had faith. Coming from him, this was a major step.
With age, physical challenges are starting. At the end of last year I suddenly had a serious back problem. I was unable to move or to function normally. Through a priesthood blessing and my faith in the Lord, my back got better.
I think faith is our “homework” as Latter-day Saints. When you go to school, you have a textbook, but unless you do the homework each night, you don’t progress. The scriptures are our gospel “textbook,” but we have to do our homework. Our faith needs to be practiced. Faith without works is dead (see James 2:17).
My message to you children is to listen to your parents and follow their teachings. I had a foundation in my life from the teachings of my mother and my father, who were great examples. They were not perfect and your parents may not be perfect either. But if you can separate their problems from the true principles they teach and follow by faith, you will be blessed for it. If you will turn to your parents and to the Lord, it will make a big difference.

For Noah, it was an ark. King Benjamin went with a tower. The Brother of Jared settled on barges. And as for Sarah Christensen from Montana, USA? Well, she decided that she wanted to build houses.
Hermana Christensen, now a full-time missionary serving in the Minnesota Minneapolis Mission, once got a little irritated that a mission was getting in the way of her construction goals—and it wasn’t even her own mission!
Let’s start at the beginning.
“I’ve been helping my dad build things my whole life,” she says. “I got used to power tools and construction, and I just really grew to love it. So, when I was 16 years old, I decided that I wanted to start my own construction business.”
“My dad has taught me to put things together, from two boards to a whole house,” Sarah says.
Sarah first remodeled a house one year over the summer. She loved it so much that she took on another remodeling project the next year. Eventually, she decided to tackle an even bigger project—a “spec” house, or a house that she and her team of subcontractors would build from foundation to finish, hopefully to sell at a profit.
Demolition day! Sarah takes a hammer to a bathroom in one of her projects.
Starting a business was no easy project, especially because Sarah was still busy with high school and cross country running.
Sarah started her own construction company when she was 16 years old.
“I learned so much,” she says. “I had to use a checkbook to pay people, which I’d never done before. I had to become comfortable talking to strangers who were my subcontractors. I’ve also learned how to deal with the stress of running a company, which was not always fun. There’s always the worry that you won’t make the money needed to break even when selling a house.”
But despite the worries and stresses that come with running a business, Sarah never had to face her big dreams alone.
“It always worked out, and I know that’s because of the Lord,” she says. “This business thing wasn’t possible without Him. He helped me through the bad days, the hard work, everything.”
The close relationship Sarah has with her family comes from working together.
Sarah’s family also supported her at every turn—which leads us back to that mission that was interfering with her plans.
Her older brother Tyler planned to help Sarah build a house when he got home from his mission. But one day, he called her with the news that he had been asked to extend his missionary service.
“I was so mad at him,” she admits. “I was like, ‘Tyler, you can’t accept that. I have this planned out.’ And he said, ‘The Lord’s work is more important than your work.’ That hit me. I knew he was right and that I needed to trust God’s plan.”
Sarah’s family welcomed her brother Tyler home after he extended his mission.
Photograph courtesy of Sarah Christensen
Whether she’s getting help from her dad or help from Heavenly Father, Sarah knows she’s not alone.
Tyler’s example inspired Sarah to start thinking about serving her own mission. “I realized how many people my brother helped come unto Christ, and I also saw how much he had come unto Christ himself. I wanted to have similar experiences,” Hermana Christensen says. “I started to seriously study the gospel and found that the more my testimony and my relationship with my Savior grew, the more I wanted to share what I had.”
Sarah made the choice to put her construction business on hold and serve the Lord. This decision has given her powerful new insights.
“The number one thing my mission has taught me is that the gospel completely changes lives,” Hermana Christensen says. “Growing up in the Church made it hard for me to see how significant the gospel was in my life.
“Here on my mission, I am surrounded by people who do not know about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. When they learn that they are children of God and He has a plan for them, it changes their lives. It is the coolest thing to witness and be a part of. I had an understanding of that before my mission, but now I know that the gospel of Jesus Christ is crucial for joy in this world and in the world to come.”
Hermana Christensen (right) and her companion Hermana Taylor (left) love to serve any way they can.
Photograph courtesy of Sarah Christensen
To other youth who are thinking of serving a mission, Hermana Christensen says, “Have faith and do not fear. Missions are not easy, but they are worth it. God will bless you in unimaginable ways as you make a decision to be one of His servants.”
Though she misses being able to build houses while she serves, Hermana Christensen doesn’t regret her choice. “Of course, there is potential growth that my business could have made while I’m a full-time missionary,” she says. “But I know the Lord will bless my sacrifice of leaving it behind for a bit. My business can wait, but the Lord’s work cannot!”
Hear more from Sarah on the Gospel Living app this month!

As the usual family festivities of Christmas Eve were drawing to an end, I felt that can’t-wait-until-morning feeling of excitement!
I was eight years of age and the oldest grandchild in my large extended family. Every few minutes, a parent, aunt, or uncle would open the door and exclaim about hearing the faint sound of bells. I could hardly wait for Santa to arrive! Yet Grandpa still insisted on going caroling first—a family tradition. “Santa will never come!” I thought.
As we hopped into our frost-covered cars, we realized it was a lot later than we normally left. The small town where we lived in Idaho was very quiet and cold. Some family members worried that we shouldn’t go caroling so late, but my grandpa insisted that we should visit a couple houses.
As we drove down the small, tree-covered lane, we could see no hint of light in the tiny log cabin belonging to “Old Jim.” Jim was a good friend, and he had a big heart. He had been a widower since I could remember.
“Surely Jim wouldn’t care if we didn’t stop!” I moaned. Santa Claus would miss us for sure!
But my good grandfather persisted: “Just quietly gather by the bedroom window and start with ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem.’”
Our voices were unsteady at first, but strength lies in numbers, and it wasn’t long until the music swelled into a beautiful, harmonious melody.
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting Light.
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight.
There was still no light on in Jim’s home, but we continued to sing.
O morning stars, together
Proclaim the holy birth,
And praises sing to God the King,
And peace to men on earth 1
The cabin door opened.
In the moonlight, we could see tears run down Jim’s face. As he embraced us all, he cried—really cried. After a time, he wiped the tears of joy from his face and said to us, “I have waited all year for you to come. You are my Christmas. And when the clock turned 9:30, I thought I had been forgotten. I was so disappointed. I had gone to bed, for there was no reason to stay up anymore.”
Our hearts were filled. As Jim motioned us into his home and turned on the light, we could see that he indeed had been expecting us. His kitchen table was beautifully set, and there was everything from Christmas cake and cookies to cold meats cut and laid out waiting for us to eat. The cups had been carefully counted and lovingly filled with sweet apple cider, so as “not to miss a one of you,” Jim added.
Jim said we had been his Christmas? Not so. Jim had been ours.
The gift of love we received that cold Christmas Eve was more wonderful than anything Santa could ever have left under our Christmas tree. And it was a reminder that the Lord wants us to minister to His children as He does—one by one, bringing His love with us (see 3 Nephi 11:15–17; 17:21).