Gospel Story Finder

In my latest class a graduating honors student in business management wrote this—the assignment was to compare oneself with some character in the Pearl of Great Price, and he quite seriously chose Cain:
Many times I wonder if many of my desires are too self-centered. Cain was after personal gain. He knew the impact of his decision to kill Abel. Now, I do not ignore God and make murderous pacts with Satan; however, I desire to get gain. Unfortunately, my desire to succeed in business is not necessarily to help the Lord’s kingdom grow [a refreshing bit of honesty]. Maybe I am pessimistic, but I feel that few businessmen have actually dedicated themselves to the furthering of the church without first desiring personal gratification. As a business major, I wonder about the ethics of business—“charge as much as possible for a product which was made by someone else who was paid as little as possible. You live on the difference.” As a businessman will I be living on someone’s industry and not my own? Will I be contributing to society, or will I receive something for nothing, as did Cain? While being honest, these are difficult questions for me.

They have been made difficult by the rhetoric of our times.

When I was a young boy, as I read the Book of Mormon, I often wondered why Laman and Lemuel did not believe the truths that were given to them, even when an angel of the Lord appeared and spoke to them directly. Why couldn’t Laman and Lemuel be more humble and obedient to the teachings of their father, Lehi, and their younger brother Nephi?
I found one of the answers to this question in 1 Nephi, which states that Nephi was “grieved because of the hardness of their hearts.” Nephi asked his older brothers, “How is it that ye are so hard in your hearts, and so blind in your minds?”
What does it mean to have a hardness of heart?
The Korean translation of “hardness” in the Book of Mormon is ?? (Wan-Aak: ??). This phrase uses the Chinese character “Wan” (?), meaning “stubborn,” and “Aak” (?), meaning “wicked.” When we harden our hearts, we are blinded, and good things cannot come into our hearts or our minds. We become stubborn and begin to place more focus on worldly desires, closing our hearts to the things of God. We choose to focus solely on our own thoughts while not accepting the opinions and guidance of others. We choose to not open our hearts to the things of God but instead to the influence of the things of the world and the adversary. When our hearts are hardened, we resist the influence of the Holy Ghost. We are “slow to remember the Lord,” and over time we become “past feeling” His words.
Alma taught the people in Ammonihah that some “would reject the Spirit of God on account of the hardness of their hearts.” He also taught that “they that will harden their hearts, to them is given the lesser portion of the word until they know nothing concerning his mysteries.” Eventually, the Spirit withdraws, and the Lord “will take away [His] word” from those who have hardened their hearts just like Laman and Lemuel. Because Laman and Lemuel continually hardened their hearts, resisted the feelings of the Holy Ghost, and chose not to accept the words and teachings of their father and Nephi, they ultimately rejected eternal truths from God.
In contrast to Laman and Lemuel, Nephi continually humbled himself, seeking guidance from the Spirit of the Lord. In return, the Lord softened Nephi’s heart. Nephi shares that he “did cry unto the Lord; and behold he did visit me, and did soften my heart that I did believe all the words which had been spoken by my father.” The Lord helped Nephi to accept, understand, and believe all the mysteries of God and His words. Nephi was able to have the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost.
What can we do to not harden our hearts?
First, we can practice daily repentance.
Our Savior taught, “Whoso repenteth and cometh unto me as a little child, him will I receive.” Our beloved prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, taught:
“Repenting is the key to progress. Pure faith keeps us moving forward on the covenant path.
“Please do not fear or delay repenting. Satan delights in your misery. … Start today to experience the joy of putting off the natural man. The Savior loves us always but especially when we repent.”
As we experience the joy of softening our hearts and coming to the Lord, we become “as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father.”
Second, we can practice humility.
Daily repentance will bring humility to our hearts. We want to become humble before the Lord, like a little child who obeys their father. We will then always have the Holy Spirit with us, and our hearts will soften.
My wife, Sue, and I have known a wonderful couple for the last four years. When we initially met them, the husband was a new member of the Church, and his wife was meeting with the missionaries to study the gospel. Many missionaries met with her to help her come unto Christ. We felt that she had a vibrant testimony of the gospel and knew that the Church was true. She felt the Spirit often during our visits and actively participated in all the meetings. She loved to interact with the wonderful members of the ward. However, she found it difficult to commit herself to enter the waters of baptism. One day she was reading Moroni 7:43–44, which reads:
“And again, behold I say unto you that he cannot have faith and hope, save he shall be meek, and lowly of heart.
“If so, [your] faith and hope is vain, for none is acceptable before God, save the meek and lowly in heart.”
After reading these verses, she realized what she needed to do. She thought that she had understood the meaning of being meek and humble. However, her understanding was not sufficient enough to have faith and hope to obey the commandments of God. She had to let go of her stubbornness and her own wisdom. She started to humble herself through sincere repentance. She began to understand humility in the perspective of God’s eyes. She relied on Heavenly Father and prayed to soften her own heart. Through these prayers, she felt the Spirit witness to her that Heavenly Father wanted her to be baptized.
Both husband and wife shared that the more they became humble, the more they could understand the words of God, and their hearts were softened to follow the teachings of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Third, we can trust and rely on our Savior.
Nephi was a great example of allowing his heart to be softened by trusting in the Lord. He taught, “I have trusted in thee, and I will trust in thee forever. I will not put my trust in the arm of flesh.” Similarly, in a revelation given to the Prophet Joseph Smith, the Lord said, “Put your trust in that Spirit which leadeth to do good—yea, to do justly, to walk humbly.” When we put our trust in the Lord and rely on Him, He will soften our hearts, and we will be supported in our trials, troubles, and afflictions.
If we sincerely repent, humble ourselves, and trust and rely on the Lord, our hearts will be softened. He will then pour out His Spirit and show us the mysteries of heaven. We will believe all the words that He has taught, and our understanding will deepen.
Our Savior, Jesus Christ, was the ultimate example of meekness. In 2 Nephi 31:7, we read, “But notwithstanding he being holy, he showeth unto the children of men that, according to the flesh he humbleth himself before the Father, and witnesseth unto the Father that he would be obedient unto him in keeping his commandments.” Even though He was holy and perfect, He humbled Himself before the Father and was obedient to Him by being baptized.
At the end of His mortal life, Jesus Christ submitted His own will to His Father by partaking of the bitter cup. This suffering caused Him “to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body and spirit.” The Savior asked that He “might not drink the bitter cup, and shrink.” “Nevertheless,” He said, “glory be to the Father, and [He] partook and finished [His] preparations unto the children of men.”
Brothers and sisters, we’ve been given moral agency. We can choose to harden our hearts, or we can choose to soften our hearts. In our daily lives, we can choose to do the things that invite the Lord’s Spirit to come into and dwell in our hearts. I know that in these choices, there is peace and joy.
Let us follow the example of our Savior, Jesus Christ, who followed the will of the Father. As we do so, the Lord has promised us, “For, behold, I will gather them as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, if they will not harden their hearts.” In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Let me tell you of a young man I knew when I was a mission president. He was a missionary full of faith. He was Uruguayan. He had been in the mission about three or four months when I arrived, and I noticed that wherever he served, people were being baptized. In the beginning I thought it was because of his senior companion, because he seemed too young, too new, to be the cause—that was my mistake. He knew how to make things happen.

He was called as a senior companion and a district leader. I sent him into a city that had gained a reputation of being a tough, “no results” city. Missionaries had not baptized anyone there for nearly a year—not one person! The members were discouraged. Only ten to twelve members were attending the branch. I didn’t tell him anything—I just notified him of the transfer. Three weeks later, he and his companion began baptizing. He served there about ten weeks. All of his district started baptizing.

It is great to have a missionary who can baptize, but if he can teach others how to do it, his leadership can bless the lives of many.

This missionary never wrote me much in his weekly reports. He would only write, “Dear President, I sure love you. Things are going great. Sincerely,” or “President, the Lord is blessing us greatly. I love the work. Your brother.”

He was called later to serve as a zone leader and sent to supervise the whole upper area of the mission where there were some very challenging cities. His new challenge was to teach the missionaries to do what he was doing. He served there two or three months and was responsible for scores of baptisms, and he literally changed the spirit of the whole zone, member leaders as well as missionaries. Together they wrought a spiritual miracle.

Then came a spiritual struggle for me, a restless feeling about him. I felt impressed that he should be sent to Paraguay. At that time the work was very slow in Paraguay. We averaged only 20 to 25 baptisms a month in the whole country. I wrestled with that and thought to myself, He has really proved himself here, but to put him in that situation might drag him down in discouragement as it has so many others. He may have a hard time sustaining his faith there. I had to struggle with my faith to convince myself that he really ought to go, but I obeyed the promptings.

I sent him a telegram transferring him to Asunción, Paraguay, as a zone leader and told him that he should leave the very next day. When he came into Montevideo, he didn’t even come to see me. He was modest and always a little embarrassed to see “the president.”

He departed from the mission home, but he left a letter, which was the first one that I had ever received from him. It said, in effect, “Dear President Cook, I received a telegram today telling me to go to Paraguay, and I thought you ought to know a few things: (1) You can’t baptize in Paraguay. I have had at least ten to fifteen elders tell me of their experiences there. (2) The members are not helping at all. (3) There are some real morality problems among the nonmembers there. (4) Many people live together unmarried. (5) ,(6), (7), (8) …” And he went through and listed ten to twelve of some of the most negative things that I have ever heard in my life.

I thought to myself, Oh no, unbelieving people have gotten to him.

But as he finished the list, he said, “I just wanted you to know, President, that I don’t believe any of those things.” Talk about faith! Then he committed himself, after expressing his faith, saying, “I want you to know, President Cook, that on Christmas Day (and the date of the letter was December 1), we are going to baptize 25 people.”

When I read that, I prayed for him and thought, The Lord bless you, elder. You have a tremendous amount of faith, and the Lord will sustain you. You don’t know the country. You haven’t ever been there. You don’t know where you are going to live. You don’t know your companion, the leaders, the members. You don’t know anything, and yet you, in faith, believe that you are going to baptize 25 people in 25 days.

Well, this young man was full of faith and was a real example of a great Latin leader. On December 25, he and his companion baptized 18 people. They hadn’t reached the 25, but 18 was just about all that the whole country baptized in a normal month. It was a great privilege two weeks later to participate in a baptismal service where he and his companion baptized 11 more. His district baptized about 30 that day. Can you see how one righteous man can turn around a whole set of circumstances? He believed, he committed, and he and the Lord did it.

“I guess I’m just a one-girl Primary now,” Bella said to Mum. The only other family with kids had moved away from their small branch in Australia. Now she was the only Primary-age kid left.
Mum gave Bella a hug. “That does sound a bit lonely.” Then she smiled. “At least I’m the Primary president, so you won’t get too lonely! Maybe you can talk with the branch president about the sacrament program.”
Bella laughed. “Dad is the branch president!”
“And he’s just coming in the door,” Mum said.
“What’s wrong, possum?” Dad asked Bella as he walked in.
“It’s time to get ready for the Primary program,” Bella said. “But now I’m the only one in our Primary.”
“We will do what we always do in our little branch,” Dad said in his most official-sounding voice. “We’ll all pitch in.”
And that was exactly what happened. First, Mum emailed some Primary leaders she knew in other countries. They sent videos of their Primary kids singing songs. “Now you can practice by singing along,” Mum said. Bella watched the videos and sang the songs every day. Seeing other kids enjoying the same songs she did helped Bella to feel less lonely.
Then a missionary couple serving in the branch found out Bella was getting ready for the program. “We’ll visit Primary each week to practice songs and talks with you and your mum,” they said. “And our grandchildren will send a video, so you can practice by singing with them too.”
The videos wouldn’t be used in sacrament meeting, so Bella would have to sing alone or have others sing with her. That was a bit scary, but all of the practicing helped Bella feel brave.
Soon a returned missionary who had served in the branch called Bella’s family. “I hear you’re planning a Primary program,” he said. “May I come?” A family who used to live in the branch and now lived in the outback also called. “We’ll come too!” they said.
On the day of the Primary program, the branch meetinghouse was nearly full. After the sacrament, Dad, as the branch president, introduced the program. Mum said a bit about Primary being a worldwide Church organization with more than a million children, of which Bella was one. “And a very special one,” Mum added.
Then Mum and Dad stood on one side of Bella, and the senior missionaries stood on the other. Bella gave a short talk about Jesus. Then Mum, Dad, and the missionaries joined her to sing a Primary song. Bella gave another short talk about Heavenly Father. Then the whole congregation sang a song together. Bella remembered the words because she had practiced so much. And when she sang with her parents, the missionaries, and the whole congregation, it felt like everyone was part of the Primary.
Soon the meeting was over. When they got home, Mum said, “Well, Bella, what did you think of our one-girl Primary program?”
“It was perfect!” Bella said. And she meant it.

Upon graduating from high school, I had the opportunity to serve a full-time mission in my homeland of Tonga. The first area that I was assigned to was the island of Ha’afeva in Ha’apai, where I traveled by boat with my mother as my companion. My mother was given permission from the Mission President to accompany me in order to ask her mother, my grandmother, to allow the missionaries to live with her. You see, my grandmother was not a member of our faith however, she agreed to allow the missionaries to live with her under one condition: that the gospel not be preached in her home. She did tell my mother that the missionaries were required to join with her in morning and evening prayers. My companion, Sister Masiu, joined me on the island two days later. We happily agreed to my grandmother’s arrangement, and already saw opportunities to share the gospel with her “under her conditions.” We also resolved to leave some of our church pamphlets around the house, hoping that she would read them.

At the time that I was serving, there was maybe about 300 people living on the island and the only members were the Branch President and his family along with my companion and me, so you can imagine the amount of work we had ahead of us. Most of the people on the island were my family members and even though they provided us with meals, they refused to hear the message that we had to share of the restored gospel. We continued to pray and plead with the Lord for an opportunity to find a family that would not only be willing to let us in their home, but also be accepting of His message. Through acts of service, we were only able to answer the inquiries of those who received us. Because we were young and recently graduated from high school, many people associated our age with naiveté, which is why many rejected our invitations. After four months of serving with no one accepting our invitations to hear the message, we felt discouraged. Even though we prayed, fasted, obeyed missionary rules and worked diligently, we felt that we had yielded no fruit.

On April 2, 1978 which was a fast Sunday, Sister Masiu and I decided to set a specific goal that we would fast and pray about. We asked the Lord to direct us to one person on the island who would be ready to hear the message of the gospel and accept the invitation to be baptized. That night as we evaluated our day and made plans for the week, Sister Masiu suggested that we each prepare scriptures to help us focus on our goal for the week. I turned to Alma 29:1-4:-
“O that I were an angel, and could have the wish of mine heart, that I might go forth and speak with the trump of God with a voice to shake the earth and cry repentance unto every people!
Yea, I would declare unto every soul, as with the voice of thunder, repentance and the plan of redemption that they should repent and come unto our God, that there might not be more sorrow upon all the face of the earth.
But behold, I am a man, and do sin in my wish; for I ought to be content with the things which the Lord hath allotted unto me.
... I know that he granteth unto men according to their desire…”3
Sister Masiu then shared her scripture from Alma 37:36-37:-
“Yea, and cry unto God for all thy support; yea, let all thy doings be unto the Lord, and withersoever thou goest let it be in the Lord; yea, let all thy thoughts be directed unto the Lord; yea, let the affections of thy heart be placed upon the Lord forever.
Counsel with the Lord in all thy doings, and he will direct thee for good; yea, when thou liest down at night lie down unto the Lord, that he may watch over you in your sleep; and when thou risest in the morning let thy heart be full of thanks unto God; and if you do these things, ye shall be lifted up at the last day.”4
After sharing our scriptures and thoughts with each other, we had both felt the impression to act. We decided we would pray unto the Lord all night in a sincere petition for His help to achieve our goal of finding one adult to teach and commit to baptism. Throughout the night, we would pray together as a companionship and then individually. The most meaningful and sincere prayers we offered contained many expressions of thanks, asking forgiveness for our shortcomings and imperfections and petitions for assistance to improve the work in that area.

Monday morning came and although we had been up all night praying, we felt rejuvenated and ready to tackle our goals for the week. I felt armed, not only with the understanding that our answers, or assistance, may not arrive immediately, but also with the comfort and confirmation from the Holy Ghost that the Lord had heard our pleas and was aware of each of His children on that little island. As we were leaving the house that morning, my grandmother called us back to ask if we could help with the cooking and house chores because she was not feeling good. We gladly told her not to worry and made slight changes to our schedule for the day. Grandmother was sick that whole week, so we adjusted our schedule to accommodate the chores at home. Our week was successful in rendering service and finding joy while building the Kingdom, but we still hadn’t found someone who fully accepted the gospel and the invitation for baptism.

The following Monday, April 10th, as we were leaving the house for the day, grandmother called us back to the house. She wanted to speak to me in private, and had asked Sister Masiu to wait outside.

Grandmother looked at me seriously and my first thought was, “This is it! She will tell me her last wishes and I will have to relay them to her children.” But to my surprise, she whispered to me very quietly, as if there were someone in the room over hearing our conversation. She made me promise that I would not tell a soul of what she was about to share with me. I didn’t know what to expect at this point, so I made the promise as she proceeded to tell me of a dream she had.

She told me that she had this dream the previous Sunday and didn’t understand what it meant. It caused her to worry, which resulted in her being sick the whole week. In her dream, she said she was laying in her bed and a man came to her window calling her by name, “Sioana.” She said she looked at the man and didn’t recognize him, so she got out of bed and went to the window to find that the man calling her was her father, Sulivenusi Hafoka. He told her, “Come join the true church.” Grandmother couldn’t make sense of this and asked him, “What is the true church?” He answered, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints”. Then he walked away. My grandmother followed him because she didn’t understand his response of “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints”, but wanted to know what this “true church” was. In her dream, she recalled that they arrived at a place that was not familiar to her. Her father stood on one side and her on the opposite side of the room. My grandmother said she saw a white cemented space, surrounded by pipes, with stairs leading into water. Her father told her once more, “Come, join the true church.” Grandmother said she asked him again, “What is the true church?” Her father answered, “The Mormon Church”, which is when she awoke from the dream.

While laying sick in bed, she wondered how her father knew that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the “true church”. He had been a minister in the Methodist Church and was very devoted to his faith. It didn’t make sense to her and she couldn’t understand the dream, in addition to that, she did not speak to others about it for fear that she would be mocked.

Tears of happiness rolled down my face while my grandmother recounted her dream. In my heart, I shouted for joy. I couldn’t help but think of the many prayers offered that night by our own families and many church members asking the Lord’s assistance for missionaries to find the honest in heart. I called my companion into the house and we knelt in prayer, giving thanks to the Lord for hearing and answering our pleas of assistance to further his work on the island.

My companion and I told grandmother of our goal, the plans we committed to carryout to achieve that goal, and the struggles that we had in the work. I told her that the place her father took her to in her dream was a baptismal font. We helped to answer questions she had about the church as well as questions she had about how her father had joined the Church even though he had already passed on. We shared the Plan of Salvation with her and our conversation turned from minutes to hours.

That day, brothers and sisters, my testimony was strengthened and I knew that we were not alone in the isles of the sea. Heavenly Father had heard and answered our prayers reminding me of the promise given by the Savior in the books of Matthew and Mark:
“Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you:
“For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened”.5
“What things soever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have them.”6
My grandmother was 77 years old when she was baptized on June 11, 1978. I was able to serve on her island for ten months. After being baptized and confirmed a member of the church, she remained faithful in attending her church meetings and received her endowments in the Tonga Temple in 1982. Some of her children were sealed to her and their father on April 6, 1982 in the Oakland Temple.

“Blessings require some WORK or EFFORT on our part before we can obtain them.” This experience required work and effort not only on our part as missionaries, but also my grandmother, our families at home who prayed for us and the members of the church who prayed on our behalf. We did not see blessings as an immediate result our efforts alone, but as the continuous and combined work or efforts of everyone involved in the work.

In September 2020, with the declining health of our parents and the instability of the COVID-19 pandemic, we relocated my sweet 83-year-old parents from their home of 45 years in Las Vegas, Nevada, to Cedar Hills, Utah, to be closer to family, making it easier for us to help care for them.
As you can imagine, this move was difficult for them on many levels. Residing in Las Vegas for most of their married years, they enjoyed their independence and the relationships they built there. They owned a lovely home and prided themselves on having an open door when family passed through. Giving up home ownership after 66 years and downsizing into a small rental home in a new state was challenging. Now they had to say goodbye to everything familiar to them, including friends they’d shared years of memories and experiences with and people they’d grown close to while serving in various callings.
At the time of the move, Church meetings were held remotely. Our parents worried how they would be able to get to know the people of their new ward when there was no opportunity to go to church and build new friendships. How could they possibly feel at home in these circumstances?
We found them a small rental home in a neighborhood in the Cedar Hills Sixth Ward, unaware of what a special place it would turn out to be.
Because we had simplified their belongings for the move and didn’t need assistance with moving bulky items, we hadn’t contacted the ward leadership to announce their arrival. That didn’t matter. Within five minutes of our pulling in with the moving van, neighbors arrived at the door, gloves on, asking how they could help. Homemade muffins were delivered and cold drinks offered to our family members helping with the move.
On Thursday of that week, members of the Relief Society presidency visited to introduce themselves and welcome our parents to the ward. On Sunday the bishop came to meet them and inquire whether they needed anything. He spent almost an hour with them, genuinely getting to know them and asking if they’d be willing to take ministering assignments.
Within two weeks of their arrival, they had ministering brothers and sisters assigned to them and were contacted by both. They also received ministering assignments and were introduced to their assigned families. Even with Mom’s late-stage dementia, her ministering companion made the effort to invite her and bring her along as they visited the sisters they were assigned to. The ministering brothers were consistent, loving, and genuine. They immediately found a commonality with roots from Wyoming, and my parents felt loved from the first visit.
Later that month the youth of the ward secretly covered their front door with notes of welcome and love. The first week of November, some deacons asked if they could come by and meet Mom and Dad. About seven young men and their leaders spent time with them, introducing themselves through get-to-know-you topics such as favorite foods, where they went to school, and what they did for after-school activities. The deacons followed up by asking our parents questions about how things were when they grew up and how they met.
These youth continued to come by at least monthly, sometimes just to drop off a treat or to check in. They caroled at Christmastime and brought a lovely holiday basket of food and treats. Because of these simple kindnesses, Dad could call the boys by name when he saw them and had a sense of familiarity with the ward, even though they weren’t able to meet in person for Sunday meetings.
A girl in the ward was invited in her home evening to say hello to someone new, and she chose Mom and Dad. She proceeded to build a relationship with them, coming over almost every day with a treat or to drop off a flower she had picked from her yard.
Our parents were asked to create a short video introducing themselves that was shown at the ward Christmas party. Every time there was a ward activity or gathering, our parents were reminded and offered a ride by someone. Special treats and hand-colored cards were delivered on their birthdays and holidays, and kind neighbors shoveled their driveway, sprayed the lawn for dandelions, and pulled their trash cans in every week. The ward members made a special effort to call them by name, recognized them at the grocery store, and helped them feel like they belonged.
Just four months after moving into this new ward, Dad fell and broke his hip while visiting a family member in St. George in southern Utah. This accident required surgery and an extended stay in a care facility 250 miles (400 km) from his new home. When we told his ministering brother about the incident, he immediately contacted the Primary president, who started a letter-writing and picture-coloring campaign with the Primary children and other ward members. They sent him mail and coloring pages almost every day. The abundance of attention led the workers at the St. George nursing home to ask if he was some sort of celebrity, as they had never had a patient receive so much mail. Since this was during the height of COVID, he couldn’t have visitors, so this daily written interaction was a gift of service beyond description.
With Mom’s dementia, one activity she was drawn to was sweeping. A kind neighbor recognized this and allowed her to come and sweep around them as they pulled bushes from their front yard, all the while making Mom feel like she was the one providing the service.
Dad was invited to participate in the ward choir and made to feel he was a valued addition. At age 84, he was called to work in the Young Men organization as a specialist with the deacons, gaining a feeling of relevance and contribution.
After only a year, they felt at home, that they mattered, that they could still make a difference. They were never made to feel like they were a burden or just “another renter” in the neighborhood. My heart is full as I contemplate the Lord’s words in Matthew 25:40: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” Well done, Cedar Hills Sixth Ward!

Some years ago my wife, Harriet, and I had a memorable experience in which we saw this promise fulfilled. We were in West Africa, a beautiful part of the world where the Church is growing and the Latter-day Saints are delightful. However, West Africa also has many challenges. In particular, I was sorrowed by the poverty that I saw. In the cities there is high unemployment, and families often struggle to provide for their daily needs and for their safety. It broke my heart to know that many of our precious members of the Church live in such deprivation. But I also learned that these fine members help each other to lighten their heavy burdens.

We eventually arrived at one of our meetinghouses near a large city. But instead of finding a people burdened and absorbed by darkness, we discovered a joyful people who were radiating with light! The happiness they felt for the gospel was contagious and lifted our spirits. The love they expressed for us was humbling. Their smiles were genuine and infectious.

I remember wondering at the time if there could possibly be a happier people on the face of the planet. Even though these dear Saints were surrounded by difficulties and trials, they were filled with light!

The meeting began, and I started to speak. But soon the power went out in the building, and we were left in complete darkness.

For a while I could hardly see anyone in the congregation, but I could see and feel the brilliant and beautiful smiles of our Saints. Oh, how I loved being with these wonderful people!

The darkness in the chapel continued, and so I sat next to my wife and waited for the power to be restored. As we waited, something remarkable happened.

A few voices began singing one of the hymns of the Restoration. And then others joined in. And then more. Soon, a sweet and overwhelming chorus of voices filled the chapel.

These members of the Church did not need hymnbooks; they knew every word of every hymn they sang. And they sang one song after another with an energy and spirit that touched my soul.

Eventually, the lights sparked back on and bathed the room with light. Harriet and I looked at each other, our cheeks wet with tears.

In the midst of great darkness, these beautiful, wonderful Saints had filled this Church building and our souls with light.

It was a profoundly moving moment for us—one Harriet and I will never forget.

While I was growing up, I felt like my life needed to be mapped out too. But it wasn’t so easy for me to decide what I wanted to do. I felt like I wasn’t smart enough, dedicated enough, or brave enough to set a course for my life and stick with it. To be honest, I still struggle with this sometimes.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned that many young people feel the same way. Few people know exactly what path to take early on. Most of us figure it out as we go. And that’s all right! Thankfully, we don’t have to go it alone. There is help along the way.
Being unsure of what direction I wanted to take caused me to often feel uneasy. I felt that I should be doing something else or be somewhere else. I felt like there was just one thing that Heavenly Father wanted me to do, and if I missed it, I would derail my opportunities for eternity. As you can imagine, this created a lot of unnecessary anxiety in my life!
I’ve since learned that Heavenly Father has blessed each of us with spiritual gifts and that there are many good things we can do that will please Him. We don’t need to worry about finding the one and only path for our life. As long as we’re living the gospel and making and keeping sacred covenants, He will help us make the most of where we are now and know how to move forward.
When I received my patriarchal blessing, one part stood out to me—something that applies to all of us. I was reminded that getting to the celestial kingdom isn’t done by one decisive act or one great deed. It’s done in the choices—big and small—that we make each day, particularly as we choose to come unto Jesus Christ and live His gospel.
As we take action in all areas of our lives with faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, we put ourselves in a position to be guided. We’ll also find that wherever They lead us will be exactly where we want to be too.
Even with the best-laid plans, things don’t always turn out the way we think they will. My dad’s life didn’t. He never became an astronaut, but he’d be the first to tell you that the Lord guided him to what was best for him and our family.
The scriptures teach us to “search diligently, pray always, and be believing, and all things shall work together for your good” (Doctrine and Covenants 90:24). Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ know how all things work together. They also know what is good for us because They know and love us perfectly.
Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ don’t expect us to figure out our lives all on our own. If we trust Them and allow Them to walk this life with us, we will be encouraged to keep going and make decisions that will help us make the most of our lives.

Young Latter-day Saints on the outer islands of French Polynesia wanted to hold a youth conference. But they faced some problems.
Challenge 1: Location. The islands are far apart, with no regular lines of communication or transportation between them.
Challenge 2: Law. The government requires any youth gathering to comply with approved standards, including supervision by a state-certified director.
Challenge 3: Food. Little edible food grows in the crushed coral soil of the atolls. The diet is based on fish, coconuts, and whatever is shipped from Tahiti.
Challenge 4: Water. There are no rivers or lakes. Rain provides the only source of drinking water.
Challenge 5: Lodging. There are no dormitories, barracks, or even hotels on the outer islands. Where would people stay?
Faced with so many obstacles, it might be tempting to give up. But the Saints here know that if they have faith, God helps them find answers. They continued planning their conference. And soon, solutions were found.
Solution 1: Stay close to home. Conference planners decided to hold several small conferences on a local level. This would allow youth groups to gather without lengthy travel or a lot of expense. The first conference was held on Takaroa, one of 77 islands in the Tuamotu Archipelago. Takaroa is a stronghold for the Church in the area—270 of its 396 inhabitants are Latter-day Saints.
Solution 2: Find a willing brother. Brother Stanley Brodien, Executive Secretary in the Paea Tahiti Stake, was the answer. A school psychologist, he spends summer vacations organizing youth gatherings, summer camps, and outings. He already had the proper government certification.
Solutions 3, 4, and 5: Use local resources. Takaroa had been blessed with an abundance of rain. Storage tanks were full and could supply needed water. Some food had to be brought along in coolers, but a baker from the nearby island of Manihi, Branch President Pitori Faura, would provide bread, and local members would help the youth catch fish and gather coconuts as needed. As for lodging, most of the youth could stay in homes with members. Some of the young men would bring tents and camp on the beach.
And now, the conference! Most of the 70 LDS youth from the three islands attending the Tuamotu North Youth Conference are involved either directly or indirectly in the pearl industry. The youth are highly skilled in tasks like skin diving and scuba diving, which are required for pearl cultivation.
But besides the pearl farms, the focal point of the island of Takaroa is the century-old LDS chapel, built from coral, with its hand-painted moldings, red tin roof, and bell tower stretching 90 feet above bedrock. It is larger and taller than any other building on the island, symbolic of the Church’s importance in the small community, and a perfect place for the youth to gather.
After their arrival, some aboard a fishing vessel, some by speed boat, the youth were divided into four groups, mixing age levels and participants from the islands of Takaroa, Manihi, and Takapoto. The youth chose Book of Mormon names for their groups: Ether, Nephi, Mormon, and a popular hero in these islands, Hagoth.
Cynthia Tufariua of Takaroa said, “At first I wasn’t excited about not being with my friends, but after the first day, I thought it was great to get to know kids from the other islands.”
Eric Hio of Manihi said, “I’ve never seen this many Mormons together in one spot.”
A shining example. But the shining moment of the conference came in the form of service. Except for one very rainy morning, several hours each day were spent cleaning different areas of the island—picking up trash, cutting weeds and bushes, removing rocks, hauling away garbage. During the conference, the youth cleaned beaches along the dock area and tidied up the village cemetery, the church grounds and building, and the local soccer field, which had become a garbage dump and an eyesore.
Mani Terooatea, a Laurel from Takaroa home on vacation from Japan, where she has been studying the technique of pearl grafting (placing tiny pieces of mussel shells inside oysters in order to cultivate pearls), said, “It was super to clean up the field, to see everyone working side by side. It didn’t take long, and I’m glad we could leave the place cleaner than we found it.” Mani brought along a nonmember friend, Hina Dexter, who developed a new appreciation for Mormons, as did several other non-LDS participants.
Start with scriptures. Each morning started with individual scripture study, followed by breakfast and a devotional, then the service projects, then sports and group activities, including island games such as “The Crab and the Coconut Trees,” “The Dog and the Thongs,” and “The Thief and the Pearl.” And to cool off after a hard day of work and play, a dip in the pristine lagoon waters among some of the most beautiful coral gardens in the world, myriads of brightly colored tropical fish, and curious but harmless reef sharks, provided a refreshing change of pace.
Besides morning scripture study and devotionals, two firesides and a home evening emphasized spiritual topics such as faith, standards, scripture study, goal setting, enduring to the end, striving for excellence, mission preparation, and seminary attendance. One speaker gave a brief history of the Church in French Polynesia, speaking of sacrifices made by early missionaries and members and challenging the youth to be willing to make similar sacrifices to share the gospel.
End with a testimony. As the conference closed, young people expressed gratitude for new bonds of friendship, strengthened testimonies, and their renewed desire to know and serve the Savior. One young man who had been only semi-active before expressed his newly gained desire to serve a mission: “I want to get my life in order so I can share with other people the testimony I felt growing during this conference. I want to spread the joy the gospel brings.”
Like a pearl. The youth conference taught islanders another thing as well. They saw that with patience, challenges can be turned into blessings. It reminded them of the black pearls they grow in their lagoons. A little bit of mussel shell is an irritant. But with time and care, the oyster transforms it into a thing of beauty.

Adriana was bored. She wanted to play with her twin sister, Diana. But Diana had gone to buy food at the mercado with Mamá. Adriana sighed. The house felt very empty. She wished she’d gone with them.
Adriana decided to visit her neighbor Margarita. Margarita’s kids were all grown up, and she was like an abuela to Adriana. They always had lots of fun together.
Adriana went outside. The hot sun shone down on her as she walked to Margarita’s house. She poked her head inside the door. “Margarita, are you home?”
“Sí, I am in the cocina,” Margarita called. Adriana walked in. Margarita was sitting at the kitchen table with her head down.
“Buenas tardes, Adriana,” said Margarita. She looked up and gave a small smile. But she seemed sad.
“Is something wrong?” asked Adriana.
Margarita sighed. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
How can I help her feel better? Adriana thought. Margarita always seemed happy when they cooked together. “May I help you make tortillas?”
“I just finished making some,” said Margarita. She lifted a cloth napkin to show a stack of tortillas.
“Then may I help you eat tortillas?” Adriana asked with a grin.
Margarita laughed. “Of course. Let me just heat up some frijoles to go with them.”
Adriana stood by Margarita at the stove and stirred black refried beans in a pot. When the beans were done, she carried them to the mesa. Margarita brought the tortillas and the queso to the table too.
Adriana took a warm tortilla and spread beans over it. Then she sprinkled the cheese on top. It looked delicioso! Adriana couldn’t wait to take a bite. But there was something she wanted to do first.
“May I please say an oración?” Adriana asked Margarita.
“Sure.”
Adriana closed her eyes and folded her arms. “Padre Celestial, we thank Thee for this food. Please bless it to make us healthy and strong. And please help Margarita with whatever she needs. I’m glad she’s my friend. In the name of Jesucristo, amen.”
Adriana opened her eyes. Margarita had a big smile—a real one this time. While they ate, they talked about school and fútbol and books. Adriana loved talking with Margarita.
When they finished eating, Adriana gave Margarita a big abrazo. “Thank you for the snack. I had a great time!”
Margarita hugged Adriana back. “Thank you, Adriana. I needed a friend today.”
Adriana beamed. “I’m glad we’re amigas.”
“I’m glad we’re friends too,” Margarita said. “Why don’t you take the rest of these tortillas home? I’m so full.”
Adriana skipped all the way back to her casa. She felt full too—and not just from the tortillas! She was full of friendship from head to toe.

May I share with you the experience of Brother Clayton M. Christensen as he sought to know for himself. Brother Christensen has served in many positions of leadership in the Church, including as an Area Seventy. He has received far too many academic awards for me to mention here. He is currently the Robert and Jane Cizik Professor of Business Administration at the Harvard Business School. He is also an alumnus of Brigham Young University, and I believe his son Spencer and daughter Catherine are currently students here.

When Brother Christensen finished his schooling at Brigham Young University, he received a scholarship to go to Oxford University in England as a Rhodes Scholar. When he arrived at Oxford, he realized that it would be somewhat challenging to be an active member of the Church in Oxford. The Rhodes Scholarship Trust that had given him his scholarship had a lot of activities for the recipients of the scholarship, and if he were going to be active in the Church, it would be difficult for him to participate in those activities. He intended to obtain in just two years a degree in applied econometrics—a program which took most students three years to complete. This, of course, added to his lack of extra time. He realized, as he thought through how involved in the Church he could be, that he didn’t even know for certain if the Book of Mormon was true. He realized that he had read the Book of Mormon seven times up to that point, and that after each of those seven times he had knelt in prayer and had asked God to tell him if it was true. He had received no answer. As he thought through why he hadn’t received an answer, he realized that each time he had read the Book of Mormon it was because of an assignment—either from his parents or a BYU instructor or his mission president or a seminary teacher—and his chief objective had been to finish the book. But now, as he was about to commence his studies at Oxford, he realized that he desperately needed to know if the Book of Mormon was true. He recognized as well that he had sustained himself on a belief in many of the doctrines of the Church and in his parents because he knew they knew it was true, and he trusted his parents. Here he was, however, desperately needing to know for himself if it was true.

Oxford University is one of the world’s oldest universities. The building Brother Christensen lived in was built in 1410 and was beautiful to look at but horrible to live in. The only heat which was provided was from a small heater inserted into a hole which had been dug in the wall. He decided that he would commit every evening from 11 p.m. to 12 midnight to reading the Book of Mormon—this time with the purpose of determining if it was true. He wondered if he dared spend an entire hour each night, because he was in a very demanding academic program and he just didn’t know if he could afford allocating such an amount of time to this effort. Nevertheless, he did allocate the time, and he began at 11 p.m. by kneeling in prayer by the chair by his little heater, and he prayed out loud. He told God how desperate he was to find out if this was a true book, and he told Him that if He would reveal to him that it was true, then he intended to dedicate his life to building this kingdom. And he told God that if it wasn’t true, he needed to know that for certain, too, because then he would dedicate his life to finding out what was true. Then Brother Christensen would sit in the chair and read. He began by reading the first page of the Book of Mormon, and when he got down to the bottom of the page, he stopped, and he thought about what he had read on that page, and he asked himself, “Could this have been written by a charlatan who was trying to deceive people, or was this really written by a prophet of God?” And he asked himself what did it mean for Clayton Christensen in his life? And then he put the book down and knelt in prayer and verbally asked God again, “Please tell me if this is a true book.” Then he would sit in the chair and pick up the book and turn the page and read another page, pause at the bottom, and do the same thing. He did this for an hour every night—night after night—in that cold, damp room at the Queen’s College in Oxford.

By the time Brother Christensen got to the chapters at the end of 2 Nephi, one evening when he said his prayer and sat in his chair and opened the book, all of a sudden there came into that room a beautiful, warm, loving spirit that just surrounded him and permeated his soul and enveloped him in a feeling of love that he had not imagined he could feel. He began to cry, and he didn’t want to stop crying because as he looked through his tears at the words in the Book of Mormon, he could see truth in those words that he never imagined he could comprehend before. He could see the glories of eternity and what God had in store for him as one of His sons. That spirit stayed with him for the whole hour, and then every evening as he prayed and sat with the Book of Mormon by the little heater in his room, that same spirit returned, and it changed his heart and his life forever.

Brother Christensen has indicated that he loves to return to Oxford. Most of the people there are either students or tourists who have come to look at a beautiful university. But he loves to return there because it’s a sacred place to him, and he can look at the windows of that room where he lived, and he recognizes it as the place where he learned that Jesus is the Christ and that Joseph Smith was the prophet of the restoration for the true church.

Brother Christensen has stated that he looks back at the conflict he experienced when he wondered if he could afford to spend an hour every day apart from the study of applied econometrics to find out if the Book of Mormon was true. He said, “I use applied econometrics maybe once a year, but I use my knowledge that the Book of Mormon is the word of God many times every day of my life. In all of the education that I have pursued, that is the single most useful piece of knowledge that I ever gained.”7

The river is slow moving, so the girls had to paddle all the way. There’s no riding the current here. After a break for lunch and a few swampy portages, camp was in sight. The race was on to see who could be first on the beach. Those who had learned to paddle together had the advantage. Dawn Queen said, “Before we stopped for lunch, we were the last canoe, because we kept arguing with each other. But when we learned to work together, we passed everyone and finished first. It worked better when we encouraged each other.” A lesson about canoes and a lesson for life.

This story happened in the USA.
The smell of spaghetti sauce made David’s stomach rumble. “When will dinner be ready?”
“Just a few more minutes,” Papá said, stirring the sauce. He glanced over at David. “What are you working on?”
David held up his Children’s Guidebook. “I’m trying to pick a new goal. But I’m not sure which one to do. They’re all good.”
“What are some of the options?”
David flipped through the guidebook. “Sing a Primary song, serve your neighbors, welcome others . . . .” Then he saw another one. “Oh! Papá, will you help me learn how to cook?”
“Of course,” Papá said. “I’m going to make my special Sunday breakfast tomorrow. Will you wake up early and help me?”
“OK!” David said.
The next morning, David woke up early and met Papá in the kitchen. While Papá got out the ingredients, David washed his hands.
Papá showed David how to hold a knife and cut fruit safely. He had David mix all the pancake ingredients. Then it was time for the best part. Bacon!
David used tongs to carefully turn the bacon over in the pan. The bacon sizzled, and some grease splattered onto his fingers. “Ouch!” David said.
“Careful,” Papá said. He turned on the faucet and had David hold his hand under the cold water for a minute. Then he gave David an oven mitt to wear to protect his hands from the hot grease.
“Cooking is tricky,” David said.
“Yep,” Papá said. “Learning new things is hard work. That’s why you have to learn the right methods.”
“And practice a lot,” David said. “I learned in Primary that not even Jesus knew everything at first.”
Dad nodded. “Even He had to learn things a little at a time.”
They finished cooking the bacon and put all the food on the table. The whole family loved it.
Their cat, Nacho, meowed under the table.
“I think Nacho wants some too!” David’s sister Sarah said.
David helped Papá in the kitchen a lot after that. Papá showed him lots of recipes in their recipe book. David learned how to measure ingredients for cookies, how to scramble eggs, and how to make his favorite drink, horchata. The more he practiced cooking, the more confident he felt.
Then one Sunday morning, David finally felt ready. “Papá, can I make breakfast on my own today?” David asked as he joined Papá in the kitchen.
“All right,” Papá said. “I’ll be right here if you need any help.”
David got out the things he needed and started working. He sliced the strawberries and bananas the way Papá had shown him. He flipped the pancakes carefully without burning any.
And when he cooked the bacon, he knew just what to do. He wore an oven mitt and an apron to keep the grease from splattering on him.
When he was done, David put all the food on the table. The rest of the family sat down. His younger sister Emily said a prayer, and they started eating.
“This is really good,” said his brother, Jeremie. “Thanks, Papá.”
“Actually,” Papá said, “David made it all on his own.”
“Really?” Jeremie said. He looked at David. “You’ve gotten really good!”
David beamed. It had taken a lot of practice, but it felt good to make breakfast for his family. He couldn’t wait to try more recipes.

Ever since my Primary teacher gave each of us a picture of the Good Shepherd, I’ve wanted to be a real shepherd with a lamb of my own.
I tacked my picture on the wall by my bed in the loft so that I could look at it by lamplight and think about how it would be and remember to mention it in my prayers.
With leftover chicken wire, I built a sheep pen that I could move from grass spot to grass spot by myself. And I found an old baby bottle that I could use to feed my future lamb until it learned to eat grass. But being all ready to be a shepherd made the waiting to get one that much harder.
The day I sighted the dust drifting across the flat brushland below our farm, I figured that my prayers were going to be answered. I threw a saddle on Old Blue and grabbed the two grain sacks that I’d been saving.
“Mama, Woody is moving his sheep!” I yelled.
Lambing time was over, and Woody Morehouse was moving his sheep herd to the mountains, as he did every spring. He always moved them across the flat and up a nearby canyon to feed during the summer. Sometimes a newborn lamb would be too weak to keep up with the ewes and would be left behind in the brush. Woody usually gave these orphan lambs to the first one there to speak for them. This year I was going to be the first.
Mama came to the door with flour on her hands. But even the thought of warm biscuits couldn’t hold me back any. I slapped the stirrups against Old Blue and leaned over his neck. We went flying through our open gate, with the grain sacks flapping in my face and happiness singing inside me. I hollered at my dog. “Come on, Blackie!”
Blackie could sniff out any lambs left behind. He yipped and barked alongside Old Blue.
Even before I saw Woody, I saw Tim. I felt as if a cow had kicked me in the chest. I just stared at Tim, dumbfounded. Finally I said, “I guess you’ve already spoken for any abandoned lambs.”
He just grinned at me.
Woody rode up, knowing why I had come. “Maybe next year, Amos,” he told me.
Swallowing against the tightness in my throat, I whirled Old Blue toward the farm before I started crying right in front of them. When I heard Tim pounding up behind me on his brown mare, I swiped quickly at my eyes.
“Hey, Amos! Can I use your grain sacks? I didn’t stop to get anything to carry the lambs home in.”
I glared at Tim. “How do you know you’ll find any?” I asked. And I secretly hoped that there wouldn’t be any.
“Oh, I followed Woody’s herd clear from the lambing sheds,” he bragged. “I’ve spotted two.”
I wanted to kick Old Blue and ride away from the sight of Tim’s grinning. But Tim was my friend, and he didn’t know how much I longed for a lamb. I held out my grain sacks.
“Be sure you cut a hole big enough so that their heads can poke out, or else they’ll smother,” I warned. “And tie the two openings together so that a sacked-up lamb can hang down each side of the saddle.”
“I know how to do it,” Tim said. Then he whooped and whirled his horse and galloped back toward the sheep trail.
I could smell the warm biscuits when I rode into our yard, but I hoped Mama hadn’t noticed me ride up. I just wanted to slip up the outside stairs to my loft bedroom.
The picture of the Good Shepherd looked down at me as I lay on my bed. The lamb in the Shepherd’s arms looked soft and woolly and contented. My lamb would have been like that, I thought. And it would have nuzzled my face and followed me, just like Blackie. I turned over and buried my face in the pillow, wondering how Tim could have prayed any harder than I had.
The next morning Woody came down off the mountain and stopped at our farm. The first thing he mentioned was the pen that I had made. Then he said, “Amos, a cougar killed one of my ewes last night. She must have slipped away from the herd yesterday as we hazed the sheep up the canyon. I found her carcass near the trail this morning.”
Before I could open my mouth to say how sorry I was, he went on. “She had a lamb with her.” He paused and looked at me closely. “The cougar may have gotten the lamb too. You may want to hunt around in the bush and rocks along the trail. If it’s still alive, the lamb’s yours.”
My eyes widened, and my heart leaped, and the singing inside me began all over again. “If it’s alive, my dog, Blackie, can find it!” I declared. I was almost to the corral before I remembered to tell Ma.
I had ridden Old Blue halfway up the canyon with Blackie at his heels when I saw the cougar tracks. Right where the trail crisscrossed the little canyon stream, the cougar had left tracks in the wet sand!
Old Blue sensed that a cougar was near. He didn’t much like going up the trail, especially when it narrowed and sheer cliff walls hemmed it in. After Old Blue settled down, I sent Blackie on ahead to sniff out any danger. Blackie found the ewe’s carcass, and when I rode up, I saw that that old cougar had torn off a whole hind quarter and packed it away. Little chills crept along my neck. I had to think about the picture back in my bedroom to keep from hightailing it back down the canyon. I didn’t want to meet up with any old cougar!
“Find the lamb, Blackie,” I said softly. And Blackie set off through the rocks and brush.
I rode Old Blue slowly along behind Blackie. And I prayed. I never wanted anything so much as I wanted that little lamb to still be alive.
Just as the trail left the cliff walls and opened out onto an old rockslide, I heard Blackie bark. I got a glimpse of something woolly and cream-colored breaking out of the brush and running toward the rocks.
I slid out of the saddle, yelling, “Catch it, Blackie!” And I started climbing the rocks and boulders after them. “Don’t hurt it, Blackie. Don’t hurt it!”
I could have hugged that old dog when I saw that he’d driven the lamb into a niche between two big rocks and was just standing there, blocking its escape and wagging his tail. Right then I loved that dog more than I ever had before.
The lamb struggled and began to bleat. Its little sides heaved in and out, and there was wild fear in its eyes. I reached into the niche and pulled it out. It struggled to get out of my arms, and I wondered, What did Jesus do when He found His lost lamb? How did He calm His lost lamb’s pounding heart?
I walked Old Blue to a big rock so that I could hang on to my lamb and still climb into the saddle. Blackie ran ahead on the trail, stopping to sniff at the carcass of the dead ewe. It choked me some when I passed it, thinking about how my lamb had stayed close by, fearing to move yet fearing to stay.
Old Blue seemed anxious to get down out of the canyon, so I let him lope past the sheer cliff walls, past the tracks in the wet sand. And all the time I had my arm tightly about the little woolly body, hoping that it could tell how I meant to care for it. And how I meant to be a real shepherd.

In a western city a young man had been preparing for 18 years to go on a mission. He was excited, his parents were excited, his girlfriend was also, and he was ready.

One evening at the city swimming pool, he and some friends were diving from the highboard. The second he hit the water, he knew his approach angle had not been good. He was in trouble. His head pierced the water and struck the bottom of the pool with a sickening thud. He was immediately knocked unconscious. He was brought carefully to the poolside and then rushed to the hospital. After weeks of medical attention, he was finally told that he would be paralyzed from his neck down for the rest of his life. He couldn’t move a finger or a toe, an arm or a leg. He would now lie in bed forever. His body would become a useless thing, and unless something unusual happened, so would his spirit.

A wise bishop recognized the problem. After talking with the boy’s parents and the doctor, the bishop gave him an assignment. It was unbelievable, unreal, impossible! The assignment: would he please write a letter each month to every missionary and serviceman from their ward? Was the bishop just not thinking or was he inspired? How could the boy write with no hands or fingers to assist? Some had learned to use their toes in such an emergency, but he couldn’t move his. Having faith in their bishop, the boy and his parents started to work on the assignment. It took days, weeks, and months of effort and discouragement. In time, it began to happen.

By putting a pencil between his teeth and moving his head, he learned to make a mark, then a word, next a sentence, and finally a page. He wrote and wrote.

For more than 20 years he has been writing beautiful letters. He has inspired thousands. The side benefit is that his own spirit, simply stated, is magnificent. Is it worth the effort to follow our leaders’ counsel no matter how hard or how difficult? He thinks so. So do I.

A couple of years ago, international broadcasts and world fame were the furthest things from her mind. She was an attractive young Denver Mormon girl who liked to sing and who wanted to try her luck where there were a lot of attractive young Mormon men and maybe some new job opportunities. So naturally she packed up her pots and pans and sheet music and headed for Salt Lake City, singing all the way. And when she got a job restoring books and documents for the Church Historical Department, she went right on singing and humming to herself as she worked.
It just so happened that a fellow employee who heard her spontaneous snatches of song was a member of the choir and suggested that she audition. She laughed it off at first and went on singing to herself. “I was frightened,” she recalls. “I really didn’t believe in myself that much.” But the suggestion kept creeping back into her mind each time she started to hum, and before long she decided, “Well, I’ll never know unless I try.”
Richard Condie, then director of the choir, was impressed with her audition, but as is usually the case in real life, it wasn’t to be a perfect Cinderella story. She still needed some work, so she arranged for private voice lessons. Seven months of hard work later, she was ready, and she took her place in what Eugene Ormandy of the Philadelphia Orchestra has called “the world’s greatest choir.”
Every voice in the Tabernacle Choir is a gem, including Janeece’s. But there is no artistic arrogance. Janeece says of her fellow choir members, “They’re very humble and spiritual people. It’s a warm and wonderful experience working with them, and we have a very rewarding friendship. They provide me with a constant challenge to improve and grow, not only in my voice, but also in my personal life.
“I’ve learned a lot,” she continues, “just by listening to the people next to me, but I think that 90 percent of my growth has come in self-confidence.” To the young people of the Church she counsels, “If you have a dream, it can become a reality. If something is unreal to you—if it’s just ‘way out there somewhere’—you have no way of grasping it, but if you can put it into perspective and realize that it’s real, then you’re on your way. If there’s something you really want in life, you should go after it and not limit yourself. It’s true that we each have limits, but we seldom reach them. We limit ourselves too much because of fear. Believe in yourself. Don’t let fear stand in your way. One moment of decision can sometimes make a lifetime of difference. It just took one moment for me to decide to call Brother Condie and go for an audition, and if I had let fear override that moment, I would never have had the experience that I have today.”

On a quiet morning last week I left my office in Sao Paulo, Brazil, and walked over to the Sao Paulo Temple site. There was a soft morning mist beginning to clear away. As I walked up the gentle rise in the street onto the site, I noted with great interest and pleasure brush being cleared away and the new pegs recently driven into the ground. These pegs in the ground mark the dimensions of a new temple soon to be erected for the glory of God and the endless blessing of his children in South America. This temple will be different from any other building now standing in South America.
As I stood where the entrance of the temple will be, I recalled how thirty-six years ago my companions and I landed by ship in Santos after twenty-one days at sea and went by train to Sao Paulo. There were other missionaries on the same vessel going to Argentina and Uruguay, which were the two other relatively new missions on the continent.
In all of South America there was but a mere handful of members of the Church, mostly emigrants from Europe, many of whom were converted in Europe. As I stood last week on this site where this new, special, multimillion-dollar building will stand, I recalled how difficult and unpromising the future of the Church appeared in South America thirty-six years ago. In all of our mission we had only three baptisms in one year, despite the conscientious labors of over seventy missionaries. We did not have the Doctrine and Covenants, the Pearl of Great Price, or the Book of Mormon translated into Portuguese. We held our meetings in rooms that were small and unfit for the lofty message we were trying to teach. We often had to sweep out these rooms before meeting to remove the empty bottles and trash from the revelry of the night before. It was always difficult and often discouraging.
In comparison, last year in South America there were over 8,000 convert baptisms. There are now twenty-two stakes and seventeen missions of the Church with over 152,000 members on that vast continent; and the work has only begun. Our great first generation of South American Regional Representatives and stake and mission presidents are men of affairs, including bankers, businessmen, factory owners, and professional men. They are men of great ability and faith.
I marveled at how through the Spirit of God this has all come about. Surely it is a fulfillment of what Jesus said to his early apostles: “And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven.” (Matt. 16:19.) Having seen it all from close range, I cannot doubt that this is the work of God.
Last week at the temple site, after much brooding and pondering, I stepped farther back to where the inner rooms of the temple will be. The morning mist had now cleared so that in the distance I could see part of the great city of Sao Paulo. I recalled how as a young missionary I presided over the work in that city, with thirteen missionaries and about 300 members. There are now four stakes of the Church and about 100 missionaries laboring in that city. There are also neighboring stakes in Campinas and Santos.
This great progress in South America has come about largely through the sacrifice and dedication of hundreds of missionaries and their families, as well as dedicated mission presidents from the United States and Canada. This is changing. In the Brazil Porto Alegre Mission there are now 136 missionaries of which fifty-eight, or 43 percent, are native-born Brazilians. All of the four mission presidents in Argentina are native South Americans. How can anyone who has seen what I have deny that this is the work of God.

For example, if you receive a spiritual impression to honor the Sabbath day, especially when it seems difficult, God will send His Spirit to help.

That help came to my father years ago when his work took him to Australia. He was alone on a Sunday, and he wanted to take the sacrament. He could find no information about Latter-day Saint meetings. So he started walking. He prayed at each intersection to know which way to turn. After walking and making turns for an hour, he stopped to pray again. He felt an impression to turn down a particular street. Soon he began to hear singing coming from the ground floor of an apartment building close by. He looked in at the window and saw a few people seated near a table covered with a white cloth and sacrament trays.

Now, that may not seem like much to you, but it was something wonderful to him. He knew the promise of the sacrament prayer had been fulfilled: “Always remember him and keep his commandments which he has given them; that they may always have his Spirit to be with them” (D&C 20:77).

But I felt so alone! I was in Zion, the place of peace and rest for the Saints. I was supposed to be happy. But I missed my family.
The blind lady allowed me to stay with her and keep house, and I tried my hardest to keep everything neat and clean for her. But she wasn’t my family. Mama was always in my thoughts. I knew that she would come. Somehow, some way, Mama would make it to Zion.
Whenever I heard of a wagon train coming into the Salt Lake Valley, I watched for the dusty sky—a sure sign that the wagons would arrive soon. Then I’d run to the fence and climb as high as I could to see the immigrants. At first they would be just a dust cloud on the horizon. But slowly, oh so slowly, I could make out the wagons and the animals and the people.
I studied the women passing by. Mama’s hair is that color—but no, it isn’t her. Over there is a woman with Mama’s posture—but no, it isn’t her, either. Could that one driving the team be her? No, no, no. With every incoming group, I thought, Surely Mama will be in this company with my younger brothers and sisters.
I searched and searched, and doubts would come. No one smiled at me. No one ran and wrapped me in her arms. As the wagons rolled past, another heartache began. With each disappointment, the tears coursed down my cheeks and I cried until there were no more tears left.
Two long, hard years passed before Mama finally came. When she did, I could hardly believe my eyes. She was worn and tired and covered with dust. I almost didn’t recognize her. But she knew me, even though I had grown quite a bit taller.
I ran to her as fast as I could. I wrapped my arms around her and wept—this time tears of happiness. She had made it to Zion. I wasn’t alone anymore. Together we were home. At last I felt Zion in my heart.

The Lord moved on wise men to bring his word to England in the 1500s. William Tyndale, a scholar and a Cambridge and Oxford-trained man said:

If God spare my life, ere many years I will cause a boy that driveth the plow shall know more of the scripture than thou dost. [James Frederic Mozley, William Tyndale (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1937), p. 34]

William Tyndale went to the European continent and, of necessity, in secret, began his translation of the Bible into English. When he had completed two-thirds of it, he was betrayed by a supposedly trusted friend, and before he could complete the translation he was burned at the stake. As his last words, uttered just before he expired, he prayed, “Lord, open the king of England’s eyes” (William Tyndale, p. 341).