Gospel Story Finder

“Brother Ng,” the man’s voice began. Being addressed as “brother” by a gwailouh (foreigner) caught Ng Kat Hing’s attention. A group of clean-cut Americans wearing dark suits had wandered into the furniture store where he was employed, and their unusual appearance fascinated the 25-year-old Hong Kong native. But he was even more intrigued by being called “brother.”
When Ng Kat Hing questioned them about the title, one of the Americans, who wore a name tag identifying him as President Heaton, asked, “Do you believe there is one Father in Heaven?”
When he nodded, the man continued, “Then we are brothers, and I will call you that.”
Forty-three years later, Brother Ng still recalls his response. “I was touched, and in that moment, a little bit of the restored gospel was manifest to me. I wondered about it all that day and through the night. Four days later when the man called back to confirm the furniture order, I knew I wanted to know more.”

My mother made me this journal, and this is my first time writing in it. My name is Patrick O’Hurley. I am 11 years old, and I live with my family on a potato farm in Ireland. A potato famine has been going for five years now. Many people have died from hunger and disease, like my friend Bartholomew and my grandmother Melvina.
Everyone is hungry, even my dog, Whiskers. He keeps chewing on my shoes, no matter where I hide them!
I don’t know if God really cares. Da and Ma say He does. They say we just have to have faith, but the famine is still going on. Why doesn’t God answer my family’s prayers? I think maybe He has forgotten about us. We’re only potato farmers—maybe we’re not important enough for Him to remember.
Two Mormon missionaries visited us yesterday. They spoke about God and His Son and a plan God has for everyone, even us. The missionaries said we are children of God and that each one of us is very important to Him. At first I wasn’t sure about it, but last night I prayed hard, and I felt something inside of me. A feeling as warm as the blanket Ma made me to use on cold winter nights.
The missionaries helped us understand the reason for trials. We learned that difficulties help us grow and test our faith so we can become more like Heavenly Father. I asked them why some trials go on and on, and the tall one said, “If all our trials were fixed in a single moment, how could we become stronger inside? Our legs couldn’t become stronger if we could climb any mountain in a single step.”
My faith is a lot stronger now, and I am happy. The famine has not ended yet, but we know that in the Lord’s good time it will. We prayed we could leave Ireland, and Heavenly Father has provided a way. We will be leaving for Canada in about two weeks. I know now that it is after the trials that the blessings come.
Whiskers still chews on my shoes. Da says it keeps me humble. Then he laughed. So did everybody else. Even me. We know blessings come after our trials, so I asked Ma if after Whiskers chews my shoes up, I will be able to get a brand new pair. I didn’t hear what she said because Da laughed even louder!

In this instance Elder Naylor and Elder Jensen greeted me warmly and immediately began sharing with me how the work was going. Early in our conversation Elder Naylor said, “President, the thing I really want to tell you about is this old man named Amos Singer. He has two very bright grandchildren who live with him. He asked us to teach them so they can join the Church and enjoy the blessings of Church membership.
“We were teaching them for the first time last Saturday, and the grandfather came in to listen to our lesson. We were talking about God, Jesus, the Holy Ghost, and prayer. After we were through he started telling us a few things that really amazed us. It was like all those stories I’ve heard about but never thought would happen to me. He told us he is 79 years old and had been trained to be a medicine man when he was very young (about 15). He was taught by his great-grandfather and has an incredible memory of very, very old Navajo beliefs. Most people don’t know the real old traditions.
“He talked to us about how he has studied the organization of many different religions. He says they are all different except the ‘Mormon Way.’ He told us the things we teach are the same things taught by the old Navajos, although the Navajo religion has changed lately. He talked about ‘eternal life’ and how the earth would be destroyed in the near future by fire and then be made new and would be a place of happiness and no troubles for the righteous. He said that when Christ comes again it will be in glory with angels singing all around him. His great-grandfather taught him the song the angels would be singing, and he even sang part of it for us. He said that as far as he knows there are only two people alive today that know that song. He told us of the legends of ‘ahix kee naa’aashii,’ the ‘two who walk together’ and how they would bring the gospel back to his people. He pointed at us and said, ‘You are what this is talking about! The two who walk together.’”
As Elder Naylor concluded telling me his story he was trying to blink back the tears.
“As you know,” I told them, “these things were all predicted in Book of Mormon prophecies. How does it feel to be out here fulfilling scripture?”
“Just think,” Elder Jensen responded, “what we would have missed if we hadn’t come on our missions.”

This great caring about how we behave toward everyone around us was one of the great lessons President McKay taught. On the trip to Europe to dedicate the temple sites in Switzerland and England, President McKay was surrounded by eager English youth seeking autographs from him. The first in line was a young girl about nine years old. She asked the President’s son, who was accompanying him, “May I have President McKay’s autograph?” The son, who thought his father was too tired, began to dissuade her. But President McKay, overhearing the conversation, turned to her and asked jokingly, “Do you think I can write plainly enough so you can read it?” The girl wasn’t sure whether he was in earnest, and she became flustered. At that moment, an aide interrupted with a pressing question, and several minutes of conversation ensued. When the President turned back to speak again to the girl, she had disappeared.
“I have never seen father more upset,” said his son. “Please find that girl in the blue dress,” President McKay directed. “I’m sure she has the impression that I didn’t want to sign her book. She misinterpreted my remarks. You must find her.” Before long, branch presidents and mission presidents were looking for a little girl in blue. But the search was in vain. Finally, a missionary thought he knew who the girl was. He telephoned the President later that night and then received these instructions: “Tell the girl that I am sorry I missed her, and that I have asked the branch president to send her book to me by mail to Salt Lake City; I will sign my autograph and mail it directly back to her.” And he did!

As years passed and my life experiences piled up, I began to see evidence of God’s love for everyone around me, but I did not always expect or recognize His love for myself. I questioned my worth as an individual.
In July of 2008, I felt strongly impressed to leave a job that was no longer good for me. I didn’t have another job, but it was early in my career and options seemed limitless. Also, because of my prompting, I was confident that Heavenly Father would help me find the right opportunity.
Weeks later, the world entered a financial crisis and unemployment rates soared. As weeks and then months passed, I began to panic. I heard heartbreaking stories of fathers and mothers losing their jobs. I was single and had no one depending on me, so I wondered if others needed and deserved employment more than me.
One night, I took my concerns to the Lord. I told Him I needed a job to take care of myself but that I could see there were families in greater need. It was as if I were imagining everyone getting in line to receive the blessings of the Lord, and because I was single, I was expected to allow families to cut in front of me.
As I prayed, the Spirit taught me that this was not what was expected of me. There is no line to get to our Heavenly Father. He invites all of His children to come to Him because “all are alike unto [Him]” (2 Nephi 26:33). The thought came very clearly to my mind that Heavenly Father is not limited by any circumstance of our world and that He will help every individual who comes to Him and Jesus Christ.
In that moment, I was reminded that there is no class system among Heavenly Father’s children. He blesses us as we choose to make and keep covenants with Him and Jesus Christ. We are all loved and important to Him, regardless of where we are on the covenant path.
Shortly after that, I was offered a job that put my career on the path it is on now.

The Savior’s words were written for us. It’s OK if we’re weak, as long as we don’t stay weak, as long as we do something about it. Katie is a young woman who did just that. Let me share her story with you.
“All my life I have wanted to be good, but I got to the point where I wondered, ‘How can anyone really know if the Church is true?’ I took Moroni’s challenge and for five months prayed and read my scriptures every day. One night I sat on my bed almost in tears, giving up. I decided to pray. I said, ‘Heavenly Father, help me to please just know you are there. I’ve done what Thou hast asked according to the Church and I just really need to know.’ Immediately I felt like someone had wrapped their arms around me. I didn’t hear a loud voice or see an angel, but I felt Heavenly Father telling me, ‘Sweet Katie, you’ve known all along.’ It was like a kind and loving father comforting his little girl” (letter).
One of the main functions of the Holy Ghost is to testify of truth. The Spirit testified to Katie that the gospel is true. Katie had paid the price. As the Savior said, she went to her home, studied His words, and prayed—for five whole months. Katie is developing her talent for spirituality. She can use this gift to govern her life.

My understanding grew rapidly, but soon my father intervened. He didn’t like the idea of me investigating a “new” church. My parents were separated, and no one knew where my mother was, but I felt obligated to honor my father’s wishes, at least until I was no longer a minor. My contact with the Saints as a group dropped off somewhat, but I knew in my heart that someday I would be baptized.
My oldest cousin went into the army, and then he left on a mission. During the two years he was gone, I kept thinking about the feelings I had felt. I always had a testimony of Joseph Smith, right from the start. His story seemed so logical, and the confirmation of the Spirit came so quickly that I couldn’t ignore it. When my cousin returned from his mission, I met him in Montélimar, and we rode together back to Antibes (near Nice), which is my hometown. All the way there we talked about the Church, and I accepted many new ideas.
The Lord also had something else in mind to help me. I was in agricultural school in Lyons at the time, and when I returned to my studies, I arranged to do some field study for three months in Aix-en-Provence. There, with my cousin, I heard all of the missionary discussions thoroughly, and the small testimony inside me became a big one. I was baptized on July 26, 1975, and I still feel as strongly today as I did then that Joseph Smith was and is a prophet of God.
I am thankful that I was able to see the gospel in action in my aunt’s home. Their example combined with the witness of the Spirit to let me know that the Lord has built a program for families that I want to follow.

After high school Gary was offered scholarships in all three sports. He was probably best in basketball, but baseball was his first love, and he intended to make it his career. So friends and teachers were surprised when Gary went off to Diablo Junior College to play football. He did it partly out of friendship. A former high school coach had called three days before DJC’s first game and said, “Hey, Gary, how about coming over to play for Diablo? All three of my quarterbacks are injured, and I’ve got nobody to start.”
Gary had gone, but he had time for only three practices before the game. “We had some good breaks,” he recalls, “and we ‘creamed’ the other team.”
In spite of this brilliant beginning, Gary was repeatedly ambushed by injuries and was able to play in less than half the games during his two years at Diablo.

Dustin heard the phone ring. Then he heard his father talking. He glanced at the clock. It was two o’clock in the morning!
He knocked on his parents’ bedroom door.
“Is something wrong?” Dustin asked.
“A man and his wife were in a car accident and are stranded a few hours away,” Dad said, buttoning his shirt. “I’m going to pick them up and bring them here.”
Dustin’s dad was a bishop in the small desert town where they lived. Over the years, he had brought home many stranded travelers.
“Are they all right?” Mom asked.
“Shaken up, but otherwise OK,” Dad said.
“I’ll make sandwiches,” Mom said. “They’re probably hungry.”
Dustin helped Mom make sandwiches and fill a thermos with hot chocolate.
“Can I go with you, Dad?” Dustin asked.
“Sure—I’d enjoy your company, it’s Saturday, and you’re old enough to come,” Dad said.
Dustin smiled and headed for the car. His dad’s words made him feel important.
Hours later, they found the couple on the side of the freeway.
“We’re the Whitneys,” the young man said as he and his wife climbed into the back seat of the station wagon. Dustin smiled and handed them the bag of food.
“Thank you. We haven’t eaten since noon,” Brother Whitney said.
Dustin fell asleep on the way home. When Dad gently shook him awake, the sky was just turning pink.
Mom fixed breakfast for everyone, then sent the couple to Dustin’s brother’s bedroom for a nap. “I’ve put clean sheets on the bed. There are fresh towels in the bathroom.”
Sister Whitney hugged Dustin’s mother. “Thank you so much. All of you.”
A few hours later, Brother Whitney wandered out of the bedroom. “My wife is still sleeping. I guess I need to call a tow truck.”
“It’s already taken care of,” Dustin’s father said. “I have a friend who works in a garage. He towed your car to his shop and is working on it now.”
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Brother Whitney said.
Dustin’s father smiled. “You just did.”
That afternoon, Dustin went with Dad to take the Whitneys to pick up their car.
“We’ll never forget what you did,” Brother Whitney said. He pulled some money out of his pocket.
Dad shook his head. “We don’t take money for helping someone in need.”
“At least let us pay you for the gas,” Brother Whitney said.
Again, Dustin’s father shook his head. “You may need it for the rest of your trip.”
Brother Whitney looked uncomfortable. “I don’t feel right not giving you anything in return for all you’ve done for us.”
“Help someone else when you can,” Dad said. “That’s the only thing I want in return.”
On the way home, Dustin looked at his father. He knew Dad hadn’t had any sleep. “You must be tired.”
His father smiled around a yawn. “A little.”
Dustin knew that was as much as his father would say about helping the couple. He never said much about helping others. He just did it.

I am so grateful for the gospel of Jesus Christ. I have received a thousand witnesses in the course of my life with my missionaries and my family. I saw a daughter one night beside herself with the pain of an earache. My wife came and said, “Jim, I think you should give your daughter a blessing.” I went and gave my lovely girl a blessing; and, brethren, before I could finish the words, she was asleep. I want you to know that my life has been and will be dedicated to the things of God, for I know He lives, and I love His work, and I love and know the principles of the gospel are true. I pledge my support to the prophet and to the Council of the Twelve Apostles, and to Brother Richards and the other presidents. I pray that it might be said of me as the apostle Paul said at the end of his days: “This one thing I do.” (Philip. 3:13.) In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Eventually, Eric was taken to the hospital again. In Ghana, patients have to provide their own water, food, bedding, medicine, and bandages. If they have no money, they are not treated. Eric’s mother and sisters did what they could. Eric received food and medical attention infrequently, so he grew weaker.

Then Eric received some unexpected visitors. Missionaries, Sister Peprah and Sister Nafuna, had seen his photograph at the church and came to see him in the hospital and brought him food. It had been a year since he had been to church, but he told them he still wanted to be baptized.

A few days later, Eric’s sister visited him and found him very ill. She ran home and told their mother. Though their mother had suffered permanent leg damage in the accident with Eric, she walked to the hospital, wincing with every step. “You must come home,” she told Eric. “If you’re going to die, I at least want you near.”

The next morning, the sister missionaries came to the house. “You weren’t at the hospital,” Sister Peprah said. “So we came here.” With them were Elder and Sister Wood, senior missionaries from New Zealand. They took inventory of needs and promised to return.

A few days later, Eric’s father took the family back to the farm—except Eric, who found himself alone again and without food or water. When Elder and Sister Wood returned and discovered Eric alone and hungry, they brought him food and water. They returned the next day and noticed fluid running down his leg and found a huge open ulcer on his thigh. They immediately took Eric back to the hospital.

The Woods learned of a medical humanitarian team from the United States that would be coming to Ghana. The team would perform surgery for Eric without cost. The surgeon treated the ulcer on Eric’s leg. But when he saw the severity of Eric’s wounds, as well as the osteomyelitis, he determined he could not do all the necessary procedures in Ghana. Based on his recommendation, the humanitarian organization initiated a process that would eventually bring Eric to the United States to receive additional treatment and permanently close his wounds. In addition, a shelter in Winneba, Ghana, run by members of the Church, agreed to have Eric live there when he returned so that he could attend school and complete his education.

While in Utah for surgery, Eric visits the reflecting pool near the Salt Lake Temple. Eric says he loves the feeling of peace he finds at the Salt Lake Temple.
Elder Wood, an engineer by profession, rebuilt Eric’s hand-pedal tricycle. He performed a similar overhaul on his wheelchair. He also counseled with President Cosgrave of the Ghana Kumasi Mission, a medical doctor. They felt Eric could be baptized if proper precautions were taken.
Eric shows his tricycle to his mother and siblings after senior missionaries repaired it.
“Elder Wood wrapped my body in plastic, with tape around the plastic,” Eric explains. “Then he carried me into a font filled with water treated with disinfectant. I was baptized on June 26, 2016.” Eric had relied on the Lord, and the Lord had provided a way.
Today, Eric is studying to become a computer technician. But also feels he can influence others through music—he likes to rap in Twi. His upbeat message talks about how God rescued him. One of his favorite scriptures says, “Look to God and live” (Alma 37:47). And he still says, “I see God in everything.”
He adds, “I don’t want anyone to think the way Heavenly Father has blessed me is identical to how He will bless them. But He will bless those who trust Him. When you have to deal with hard things, pray and trust God.”
Eric looks forward to a bright future. He’s studying to be a computer technician and also feels he can inspire others with music.

I am indebted to a good friend of mine, Aldin Porter, for a story and I would like to share it with you. He shared it with me about two years ago. “No one in our Utah town knew where the Countess had come from; her carefully precise English indicated that she was not a native American. From the size of her house and staff we knew that she must be wealthy, but she never entertained and she made it clear that when she was at home she was completely inaccessible. Only when she stepped outdoors did she become at all a public figure—and then chiefly to the small fry of the town, who lived in awe of her. “The countess always carried a cane, not only for support, but as a means of chastising any youngster she thought needed disciplining. And at one time or another most of the kids in our neighborhood seemed to display that need. By running fast and staying alert, I had managed to keep out of her reach. But one day when I was about thirteen, as I was short-cutting through her hedge, she got close enough to rap my head with her stick. “‘Ouch!’ I yelled, jumping a couple of feet. “‘Young man, I want to talk to you,’ she said. I was expecting a lecture on the evils of trespassing, but as she looked at me, half smiling, she seemed to change her mind. “‘Don’t you live in that green house with the willow trees in the next block?’ “‘Yes, ma’am.’ … “‘Good. I’ve lost my gardener. Be at my house Thursday morning at seven, and don’t tell me you have something else to do; I’ve seen you slouching around on Thursdays.’ “When the Countess gave an order, it was carried out. I didn’t dare not come on that next Thursday. I went over the whole lawn three times with a mower before she was satisfied, and then she had me down on all fours looking for weeds until my knees were as green as the grass. She finally called me up to the porch. “‘Well, young man, how much do you want for your day’s work?’ “‘I don’t know. Fifty cents, maybe.’ “‘Is that what you figure you’re worth?” “‘Yes’m. About that.’ “‘Very well. Here’s the fifty cents you say you’re worth, and here’s the dollar and a half more that I’ve earned for you by pushing you. Now I’m going to tell you something about how you and I are going to work together. There are as many ways of mowing a lawn as there are people, and they may be worth anywhere from a penny to five dollars. Let’s say that a three-dollar job would be just what you have done today, except that you’d have to be something of a fool to spend that much time on a lawn. A five-dollar lawn is—well, it’s impossible, so we’ll forget about that. Now then, each week I’m going to pay you according to your own evaluation of your work.’ “I left with my two dollars, richer than I remembered being in my whole life, and determined that I would get four dollars out of her the next week. But I failed to reach even the three dollar mark. My will began to falter the second time around her yard. “‘Two dollars again, eh? That kind of job puts you right on the edge of being dismissed, young man.’ “‘Yes’m. But I’ll do better next week.’ “And somehow I did. The last time around the lawn I was exhausted, but I found I could spur myself on. In the exhilaration of that new feeling, I had no hesitation in asking the Countess for three dollars. “Each Thursday for the next four or five weeks, I varied between a three- and a three-and-a-half dollar job. The more I became more acquainted with her lawn, places where the ground was a little high or a little low, places where it needed to be clipped short or left long on the edges to make a more satisfying curve along the garden, the more I became aware of just what a four-dollar lawn would consist of. And each week I would resolve to do just that kind of a job. But by the time I had made my three dollar or three and-a-half dollar mark I was too tired to remember even having had the ambition to go beyond that. “‘You look like a good consistent $3.50 man,’ she would say as she handed me the money. “‘I guess so’ I would say, too happy at the sight of the money to remember that I had shot for something higher. “‘Well, don’t feel too bad,’ she would comfort me. ‘After all, there are only a handful of people in the world who could do a four-dollar job.’ “And her words were a comfort at first, but then, without my noticing what was happening, her comfort became an irritant that made me resolve to do that four-dollar job, even if it killed me. In the fever of my resolve, I could see myself expiring on her lawn, with the Countess leaning over me, handing me the four dollars with a tear in her eye, begging my forgiveness for having thought I couldn’t do it. “It was in the middle of such a fever, one Thursday night when I was trying to forget the day’s defeat and get some sleep, that the truth hit me so hard that I sat upright, half choking in my excitement. It was the five-dollar job I had to do, not the four-dollar one! I had to do the job that no one could do because it was impossible. “I was well acquainted with the difficulties ahead. I had the problem, for example, of doing something about the worm mounds in the lawn. The Countess might not even have noticed them yet, they were so small; but in my bare feet I knew about them and I had to do something about them. And I could go on trimming the garden edges with shears, but I knew that a five-dollar lawn demanded that I line up each edge exactly with a yard stick and then trim it precisely with the edger. And there were other problems that only I and my bare feet knew about. “I started the next Thursday by ironing out the worm mounds with a heavy roller. After two hours of that I was ready to give up for the day. Nine o’clock in the morning, and my will was already gone! It was only by accident that I discovered how to regain it. Sitting under a walnut tree for a few minutes after finishing the rolling, I fell asleep. When I woke up minutes later, the lawn looked so good and felt so good under my feet, I was anxious to get on with the job. “I followed this secret for the rest of the day, dozing for a few minutes every hour to regain my perspective and replenish my strength. Between naps, I mowed four times, two times lengthwise, two times across, until the lawn looked like a green velvet checkerboard. Then I dug around every tree, crumbling the big clods and smoothing the soil with my hands, then finished with the edger, meticulously lining up each stroke so that the effect would be perfectly symmetrical. And I carefully trimmed the grass between the flagstones of the front walk. The shears wore my fingers raw, but the walk never looked better. “Finally about eight o’clock that evening … it was all completed. I was so proud I didn’t even feel tired when I went up to her door. “‘Well, what is it today?’ she asked. “‘Five dollars,’ I said, trying for a little calm and sophistication. “‘Five dollars? You mean four dollars, don’t you? I told you that a five-dollar lawn job isn’t possible.’ “‘Yes it is. I just did it.’ “‘Well, young man, the first five-dollar lawn in history certainly deserves some looking around.’ “We walked about the lawn together in the light of evening, and even I was quite overcome by the impossibility of what I had done. “‘Young man,’ she said, putting her hand on my shoulder, ‘what on earth made you do such a crazy, wonderful thing?’ “I didn’t know why, but even if I had, I could not have explained it in the excitement of hearing that I had done it. “‘I think I know,’ she continued, ‘how you felt when this idea first came to you of caring for a lawn that I told you was impossible. It made you very happy when it first came, then a little frightened. Am I right?’ “She could see she was right by the startled look on my face. “‘I know how you felt, because the same thing happens to almost everyone. They feel this sudden burst in them of wanting to do some great thing. They feel a wonderful happiness, but then it passes because they have said, “No, I can’t do that. It’s impossible.” Whenever something in you says, “It’s impossible,” remember to take a careful look and see if it isn’t really God asking you to grow an inch, or a foot, or a mile, that you may come to a fuller life.’ … “Since that time, some 25 years ago, when I have felt myself at an end with nothing before me, suddenly, with the appearance of that word, ‘impossible,’ I have experienced the unexpected lift, the leap inside me, and known that the only possible way lay through the very middle of impossible.” (Richard Thurman, “The Countess and the Impossible,” Reader’s Digest, June 1958.)

And so, brothers and sisters, the first tool of the capacity to create is integrity, and the second is the patience borne of faith that allows things to happen in the Lord’s own time. I have learned much from you. I will tell you of a student; I will call her Ann. That is not her name.

Ann was a young woman with many friends; and, as it turned out, one of her friends was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In the process of this rather large group of young women being friends, the member of the Church invited the others to hear the missionaries teach their discussions. Ann was one of those who went. She later told her mother that she had gone and heard the Mormon missionaries, which startled her mother a great deal because she was staunch (as was Ann’s dad) in her own faith. The young woman assured her mother that it was really only a lark, that it was just kind of fun to hear what they had to say. She said, “Mother, if it will make you feel better, every time I hear the missionaries I will go to our church leader and have him explain what was wrong about what I heard.” The mother reluctantly agreed. But as the daughter continued to listen, the power of the Spirit touched her life and she came not to believe but to know that what she was hearing was true. Her mother had earlier said, “If you ever join the Mormon Church, don’t tell me and don’t tell your dad because it would kill us to know that.” She agreed that she would not.

As the time came of decision about joining the Church, she decided two things. She decided to join the Church, and she also decided that she would not tell her mother and dad because they had asked her not to.

Over time she came to believe in her own heart that somehow they knew and had accepted it, and life would be fine. That was not the case. Ann decided to apply and come to Ricks College. She did so, and upon arriving the first night, she called back home to tell her parents that she was safe and so happy and so excited. In the meantime, her parents had learned from a neighbor that Ann had joined the Church. When her parents picked up the phone and she bubbled over about her happiness, there was no response until finally her mother said, “Ann, we have learned that you joined the Mormon Church, and your father and I are trying to forget that you ever existed.” And there was a click.

Ann immediately sought the comfort and help of the Lord in prayer and then of her bishop. She was counseled that the only thing she could control in this matter was what she did. She was encouraged to write to her parents every week and to reaffirm her love for them and her joy in doing good things. She began to do that, and she did that through all the fall semester and all of the winter semester until the very end. She came in again to her bishop, as she had done on a number of occasions, discouraged and feeling that she had been forgotten both by her parents, whom she loved, and by the Lord who had not answered her prayers. She was once again reassured and went home. Later that evening, the phone rang.

Now remember the scripture, the Lord said, “. . . my words are sure and shall not fail . . . But all things must come to pass in their time.”

The phone rang; Ann answered and heard this: “Ann, your father and I could not forget that you existed. We love you, and we need you; and we wondered if there was any way you could come home this weekend because there are some things we wish to say to you.” Ann responded: “Mother, there are some things I wish to hear. I’ll be home this weekend.”

In April of 1950, my wife, Frances, and I were in attendance at the Sunday afternoon session of general conference, held in this building. President George Albert Smith was the President of the Church, and in closing the conference, he delivered an inspiring and powerful message concerning the Resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Before he concluded his remarks, however, he sounded a prophetic warning. Said he: “It will not be long until calamities will overtake the human family unless there is speedy repentance. It will not be long before those who are scattered over the face of the earth by millions will die … because of what will come” (in Conference Report, Apr. 1950, 169). These were alarming words, for they came from a prophet of God.
Two and a half months after that general conference, on June 25, 1950, war broke out in Korea—a war which would eventually claim an estimated 2.5 million lives. This event prompted me to reflect on the statement President Smith made as we sat in this building that spring day.
I attended many general conference sessions in the Tabernacle, always being edified and inspired by the words of the Brethren. Then, in October of 1963, President David O. McKay invited me to his office and extended to me a call to serve as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. He asked that I keep this sacred call confidential, revealing it to no one except my wife, and that I be present for general conference in the Tabernacle the next day, when my name would be read aloud.
The following morning I came into the Tabernacle not knowing exactly where to sit. Being a member of the Priesthood Home Teaching Committee, I determined that I would be seated among the members of that committee. I noticed a friend of mine by the name of Hugh Smith, who was also a member of the Priesthood Home Teaching Committee. He motioned for me to sit by him. I couldn’t say a thing to him about my call, but I sat down.
During the session, the members of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles were sustained and, of course, my name was read. I believe the walk from the audience to the stand was the longest walk of my life.
It has been nearly 44 years since that conference. Until the year 2000, when the Conference Center was dedicated, it was my privilege to deliver 101 general conference messages from the pulpit in this building, not including those given at general auxiliary conferences and other meetings held here. My remarks today bring the total to 102. I have had many spiritual experiences over the years as I have stood here.
During the message I delivered at general conference in October 1975, I felt prompted to direct my remarks to a little girl with long blonde hair who was seated in the balcony of this building. I called the attention of the audience to her and felt a freedom of expression which testified to me that this small girl needed the message I had in mind concerning the faith of another young lady.
At the conclusion of the session, I returned to my office and found waiting for me a young child by the name of Misti White, together with her grandparents and an aunt. As I greeted them, I recognized Misti as the one in the balcony to whom I had directed my remarks. I learned that as her eighth birthday approached, she was in a quandary concerning whether or not to be baptized. She felt she would like to be baptized, and her grandparents, with whom she lived, wanted her to be baptized, but her less-active mother suggested she wait until she was 18 years of age to make the decision. Misti had told her grandparents, “If we go to conference in Salt Lake City, maybe Heavenly Father will let me know what I should do.”
Misti and her grandparents and her aunt had traveled from California to Salt Lake City for conference and were able to obtain seats in the Tabernacle for the Saturday afternoon session. This was where they were seated when my attention was drawn to Misti and my decision made to speak to her.
As we continued our visit after the session, Misti’s grandmother said to me, “I think Misti has something she would like to tell you.” This sweet young girl said, “Brother Monson, while you were speaking in conference, you answered my question. I want to be baptized!”
The family returned to California, and Misti was baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Through all the years since, Misti has remained true and faithful to the gospel of Jesus Christ. Fourteen years ago, it was my privilege to perform her temple marriage to a fine young man, and together they are rearing five beautiful children, with another one on the way.

Joseph was ten when his parents decided that they had had enough of stingy New England—their crops were frozen out the third summer in a row. Late that season the family followed their father to new farmland in western New York. Young Joseph hobbled over snowy roads with a severe limp from a crippling bone operation three years before. Yet he outgrew this as he worked in the forests with his brothers, clearing 40 acres of heavy timber and underbrush, fencing and erecting buildings for themselves, and hiring out on neighboring farms. By such hard work Joseph built a body that served him well in the travels and trials required of the first leader of the restored church.

In the early 1830s, Independence, Missouri, was a rough and lively frontier town. It had just been established as the seat of Jackson County. It was the start of the Santa Fe Trail. Wagons carrying goods and people crowded the town square to make final preparations for the trip to the southwest. They filled their water barrels at a nearby well. Gambling, drinking, and horse racing were more common than Sabbath day observance.
Yet on July 20, 1831, the Lord revealed that this frontier town was where a holy city, the City of Zion, would be built. The place of the New Jerusalem. The place where a temple of the Lord would be built. (See D&C 57.)
By the summer of 1831, Latter-day Saint missionaries had arrived at Independence. Members began to build homes and settle there. But only a little over two years later, disobedience by some Saints and persecution by some of the other settlers forced the members to flee Jackson County to save their lives.
On the way to church each week, Julianne Burkhardt (8) walks past the site where Joseph Smith stood when he dedicated ground in Independence for the building of a temple. The site where he stood is now owned by the Church of Christ (Temple Lot), but just a short distance away is the LDS chapel Julianne attends with her family. It also sits on part of the original sixty-three acres that Joseph Smith designated as the temple lot. Julianne feels special to know that she can worship at this sacred place. “I like the city of Independence. I like to see the temple lot. I like to see everything here.”
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.
Most of her neighbors belong to other churches, but that doesn’t stop Julianne from being their friend. She does all she can to make certain that she doesn’t have conflicts with her neighbors, like some of the early Saints did. One of her best friends is a sixty-year-old widow named Mrs. Troyer. Julianne loves to work in the garden or go for walks with her. They’ve been great friends for two or three years. “We talk about all kinds of stuff on our walks. She’s one of the nicest people I know,” said Julianne.
Always jubilant and full of energy, she loves doing things with and for her family. She’s wherever the action is. Her mother, Debbie, has tended children in their home for the past two years. Julianne loves to help take care of the children. She even wants a baby stroller for her next birthday so that she can take the younger children on walks.
One of her favorite things to do with her family is read books. Her favorite thing to read together is the scriptures. She loves the story where Nephi and his brothers return to Jerusalem to get the brass plates.
Julianne is grateful to be a member of the Church living in Independence today. “When I was baptized and was coming out of the water, I felt the Holy Spirit. It felt good.” She is doing her best to build up Zion today.

Education is helping Christina Augerea from Hula, Papua New Guinea, accomplish her goals. Ever since she was little, she has had a love of reading and the goal of attending university. Her love of reading is what led her to the Church.

“When I was in fifth grade, we didn’t have books at my school,” she says. “My teacher was a Church member. She didn’t have other books, so she gave us the Book of Mormon.”
Years later, Christina served a mission in the Philippines and then started attending Brigham Young University–Hawaii, where she is working toward law school with a double major in political science and business administration and a minor in Mandarin.
Christina’s story came full circle after the COVID-19 pandemic forced her to return home. One day while visiting her village, she learned that the library at her primary school was infested with termites. With the help of local organizations and the Church, Christina oversaw the construction of a new library, with systems in place that will keep it running for many years.
As happy as she is that she was able to help her community, Christina explains that it took a lot of faith and work to get where she is now. “I know how it feels when you don’t have anything but you want to study,” she says. And through all her experiences, she has learned a lot about the value and purpose of education.
Our Church leaders often teach that it’s important to seek whatever education we can. “The Lord and His Church have always encouraged education to increase our ability to serve Him and our Heavenly Father’s children,” taught President Henry B. Eyring, Second Counselor in the First Presidency.2
But, as Christina shares, education is more than just sitting in a classroom. “One of my professors told us that learning is not just about getting grades, a certificate, or eventually a job. It’s about understanding concepts.” And in order for education to really make a difference in your life, what you learn has to become a part of you. “You have to love learning,” Christina adds.
There are many ways we can become educated. “We don’t just learn in school,” Christina says. “We also learn in the Church. We learn at home. We can learn everywhere.” As we take advantage of opportunities to expand our knowledge, we become more educated, and the process of learning becomes more central to our lives.
Christina testifies that knowledge is key to helping each of us “prepare to meet God” (Alma 34:32). “We can grow and reach our potential by learning,” Christina says. As we humbly seek knowledge, we become more like our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and prepare to live with Them again.
By unlocking our personal potential, education also increases our ability to serve others. President Russell M. Nelson said, “Education is the difference between wishing you could help other people and being able to.”3
This is one of the biggest blessings that Christina has seen from education. “Education gives me the confidence to know that I can teach skills to others,” she says. “Even teaching in the Church is a lot of responsibility. So having confidence to be able to teach the young women or youth is amazing.”
Gaining an education takes persistence and strength—but it’s possible. At first, Christina didn’t know how she would accomplish her goals. “I didn’t know where I would get the money,” she says. But Christina found that when you trust in God and seek His help, He will help you accomplish what He needs you to do.
“With all my dreams and plans, two things that I always asked Heavenly Father for was to teach me what I could do and how I could do it. And He never left me. He knew that there was something better for me, and He guided me. I knew all those times that Heavenly Father was with me and that He still is.”
And as we seek Heavenly Father’s help, He will bless us with opportunities to gain more education and knowledge.
Christina knows that gaining an education is worth the effort. “I would tell people who think that they can’t do it to remember the huge potential God has given us. We can unlock that potential by believing that He has given it to us.”

Let me tell you of a letter which we received some years ago. A man wrote, saying, “I am in a federal prison. I recently came across a copy of the Book of Mormon in the prison library. I have read it, and when I read Mormon’s lamentation over his fallen people—‘O ye fair ones, how could ye have departed from the ways of the Lord! O ye fair ones, how could ye have rejected that Jesus, who stood with open arms to receive you! Behold, if ye had not done this, ye would not have fallen.’ (Morm. 6:17–18.) When I read this I felt that Mormon was talking to me. Can I get a copy of that book?”
We sent him a copy. Some time later, he walked into my office a changed man. He was touched by the spirit of the Book of Mormon and today is a successful man, rehabilitated, earning a living honestly for himself and his family.

Shortly after my wife and I were married, we were living and attending school in Logan, Utah. We had very busy schedules with work and school but tried to go to the temple often. One afternoon, we got ready to go and went and got in our car. The car would not start. We were surprised because we hadn’t had any problems with it before. After several attempts of trying to start the car, we had a choice to make: stay home because we were too busy anyways and could get some other things done, or we could walk to the temple. Today, we are grateful because we decided that we would walk several blocks to the temple and worry about the car later. Later that day, when we returned home, I went to the car and tried it again, and it started right up. We never had another problem with it. We both felt that the adversary did not want us standing in holy places that day in the temple. A spiritual strength was given to us that day that we carry with us today.

On a rainy day on our campus, President Holland—then BYU’s ninth president—saw a student caught in the downpour. The student’s name was Matt. President Holland rolled down his car window and beckoned Matt to come over. Sister Holland was in the car as well, and the Hollands offered Matt a ride home.

Unbeknownst to the Hollands, Matt was uncertain about his future and didn’t know if he could “make it.” But as they drove Matt to his apartment—in the very same complex where President and Sister Holland had themselves once lived—he opened up about his worries, and they assured Matt he could and he would make it.

“Matt, part of your problem is that you don’t believe,” President Holland finally put it bluntly.

“Oh, I’m not talking about your testimony,” he went on. Rather, “you just believe that God will work His mighty miracles for everyone but you.”

And then President Holland underscored the point: “You gotta believe, Matt. You gotta believe.”13

Elder Matthew O. Richardson would go on to serve as BYU’s advancement vice president, as a mission leader together with his wife, Lisa, as a member of the Sunday School general presidency, and now as an Area Seventy. Elder Richardson teaches on our faculty as a professor of Church history and doctrine.