Gospel Story Finder

Just after last April conference I was getting ready to take one of the most exciting trips that I can imagine. On April 29 our crew rode the space shuttle Challenger into orbit to conduct a scientific mission called Spacelab 3. This was a personal thrill for me and a very impressive ride. Most of you, I am sure, have seen a space shuttle lift-off on television. I can assure you that it’s as exciting as it looks.
I was surprised how calm I felt as we strapped into our seats about two and one-half hours before lift-off. As the count moved closer and closer to launch, I allowed myself just a little bit of excitement. When I heard the rumble of the main engines coming up to speed way down below me, the adrenaline flow picked up noticeably. And when I heard that incredible thunderclap of the solid rocket boosters lighting off and felt Challenger lift off, I was as excited as a little boy going to the circus.
With seven and one-half million pounds of thrust pressing you back into your seat with three times your normal weight, you quickly pick up speed. By the time the fuel runs out, you want to be going fast enough so that centrifugal force will keep you in orbit—and that takes 17,500 miles per hour. Traveling at that speed is quite an experience. As we went into orbit, we traveled from Cape Canaveral, which is in Florida, to north of Boston in just over eight minutes.
When you reach orbital velocity, the engines shut down rather abruptly. It is very quiet. I floated up against my shoulder straps. A couple of the procedures books drifted up to the end of their tethers and waved in front of me as I have seen the kelp do when I go scuba diving. I knew that this was zero gravity. And I just sat in my seat for a few minutes savoring the fact that I was finally in space.
For the next week our crew conducted a set of fifteen rather sophisticated experiments in the laboratory that was mounted in the cargo bay of the space shuttle.
The ride into orbit had been exciting. The trip out of orbit was not quite as novel, because by then I was quite used to space. But it was just as serious. When you are properly trained, you are not frightened in any sense. But you have a great respect for the tremendous energy involved and thus for the inherent risk. You are well aware that every procedure has to be performed precisely right.
We were to land at Edwards Air Force Base just north of Los Angeles, but we started our reentry just to the northeast of the island of Madagascar. We swept down south of Australia and up across the Pacific Ocean as we came home. The reentry is quite demanding. There is no way that you can carry enough fuel into orbit to slow down by rocket propulsion. You have just enough fuel to nudge your orbit down into the upper edge of the atmosphere. And then you do something that’s really quite clever. You come into the atmosphere in the worst possible aerodynamic attitude—belly first. This creates a terrible aerodynamic shock wave. But the shock wave slows you down without using a drop of rocket fuel. Your kinetic energy is converted into the heat of the shock wave.
This is all very clever, except for the fact that the shock wave is fifty-four hundred degrees Fahrenheit, which is well above the melting point of astronauts. That is why we worry so much about the thermal tiles on the underside of the shuttle. During reentry they glow red hot. In fact, the very air around the shuttle glows red hot. From the ground we look exactly like a meteor crossing the sky. Looking out the windows through that fireball is a fairly impressive experience. You realize that you are in a fiery furnace significantly hotter than the furnace prepared for Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego. (See Dan. 3:12–30.) And NASA cannot guarantee you the Lord’s protection that they had.
The space shuttle on which our lives depended worked flawlessly. I am personally convinced that the Lord was watching over us. I had been promised that in a special blessing I received before lift-off. That blessing was fulfilled in every detail, and I thank our Heavenly Father for that.

Several months ago, when my wife and I were visiting another country for various Church assignments, I woke up early one morning and looked blearily outside our hotel window. Down below on the busy street, I saw that a roadblock had been set up with a policeman stationed nearby to turn cars around as they reached the barrier. At first, only a few cars traveled along the road and were turned back. But as time went by and traffic increased, queues of cars began to build up.
From the window above, I watched as the policeman seemed to take satisfaction in his power to block the flow of traffic and turn people away. In fact, he seemed to develop a spring in his step, as if he might start doing a little jig, as each car approached the barrier. If a driver got frustrated about the roadblock, the policeman did not appear helpful or sympathetic. He just shook his head repeatedly and pointed in the opposite direction.
My friends, my fellow disciples on the road of mortal life, our Father’s beautiful plan, even His “fabulous” plan, is designed to bring you home, not to keep you out. No one has built a roadblock and stationed someone there to turn you around and send you away. In fact, it is the exact opposite. God is in relentless pursuit of you. He “wants all of His children to choose to return to Him,” and He employs every possible measure to bring you back.
Our loving Father oversaw the Creation of this very earth for the express purpose of providing an opportunity for you and for me to have the stretching and refining experiences of mortality, the chance to use our God-given moral agency to choose Him, to learn and grow, to make mistakes, to repent, to love God and our neighbour, and to one day return home to Him.
He sent His precious Beloved Son to this fallen world to live the full range of the human experience, to provide an example for the rest of His children to follow, and to atone and redeem. Christ’s great atoning gift removes every roadblock of physical and spiritual death that would separate us from our eternal home.
Everything about the Father’s plan for His beloved children is designed to bring everyone home.
What do God’s messengers, His prophets, call this plan in Restoration scripture? They call it the plan of redemption, the plan of mercy, the great plan of happiness, and the plan of salvation, which is unto all, “through the blood of mine Only Begotten.”
The intent of the Father’s great plan of happiness is your happiness, right here, right now, and in the eternities. It is not to prevent your happiness and cause you instead worry and fear.
The intent of the Father’s plan of redemption is in fact your redemption, your being rescued through the sufferings and death of Jesus Christ, freed from the captivity of sin and death. It is not to leave you as you are.
The intent of the Father’s plan of mercy is to extend mercy as you turn back to Him and honour your covenant of fidelity to Him. It is not to deny mercy and inflict pain and sorrow.
The intent of the Father’s plan of salvation is in fact your salvation in the celestial kingdom of glory as you receive “the testimony of Jesus” and offer your whole soul to Him. It is not to keep you out.
Does this mean anything goes with regard to how we live our lives? That the way we choose to use our agency doesn’t matter? That we can take or leave God’s commandments? No, of course not. Surely one of Jesus’s most consistent invitations and pleas during His mortal ministry was that we change and repent and come unto Him. Fundamentally implicit in all of His teachings to live on a higher plane of moral conduct is a call to personal progression, to transformative faith in Christ, to a mighty change of heart.
God wants for us a radical reorientation of our selfish and prideful impulses, the eviction of the natural man, for us to “go, and sin no more.”
If we believe the intent of the Father’s all-reaching plan is to save us, redeem us, extend mercy to us, and thereby bring us happiness, what is the intent of the Son through whom this great plan is brought about?
The Son tells us Himself: “For I came down from heaven, not to do mine own will, but the will of him that sent me.”
Jesus’s will is the benevolent Father’s will! He wants to make it possible for every last one of His Father’s children to receive the end goal of the plan—eternal life with Them. None is excluded from this divine potential.
If you are prone to worry that you will never measure up, or that the loving reach of Christ’s infinite Atonement mercifully covers everyone else but not you, then you misunderstand. Infinite means infinite. Infinite covers you and those you love.
Nephi explains this beautiful truth: “He doeth not anything save it be for the benefit of the world; for he loveth the world, even that he layeth down his own life that he may draw all men unto him. Wherefore, he commandeth none that they shall not partake of his salvation.”
The Saviour, the Good Shepherd, goes in search of His lost sheep until He finds them. He is “not willing that any should perish.”
“Mine arm of mercy is extended towards you, and whosoever will come, him will I receive.”
“Have ye any that are sick among you? Bring them hither. Have ye any that are lame, or blind, or halt, or maimed, or leprous, or that are withered, or that are deaf, or that are afflicted in any manner? Bring them hither and I will heal them, for I have compassion upon you.”
He did not cast away the woman with the issue of blood; He did not recoil from the leper; He did not reject the woman taken in adultery; He did not refuse the penitent—no matter their sin. And He will not refuse you or those you love when you bring to Him your broken hearts and contrite spirits. That is not His intent or His design, nor His plan, purpose, wish, or hope.
No, He does not put up roadblocks and barriers; He removes them. He does not keep you out; He welcomes you in. His entire ministry was a living declaration of this intent.
Then of course there is His atoning sacrifice itself, which is harder for us to understand, beyond our mortal capacity to comprehend. But, and this is an important “but,” we do understand, can comprehend, the holy, saving intent of His atoning sacrifice.
The veil of the temple was rent in twain when Jesus died upon the cross, symbolising that access back to the presence of the Father had been ripped wide open—to all who will turn to Him, trust Him, cast their burdens on Him, and take His yoke upon them in a covenant bond.
In other words, the Father’s plan is not about roadblocks. It never was; it never will be. Are there things we need to do, commandments to keep, aspects of our natures to change? Yes. But with His grace, those are within our reach, not beyond our grasp.
This is the good news! I am unspeakably grateful for these simple truths. The Father’s design, His plan, His purpose, His intent, His wish, and His hope are all to heal you, all to give you peace, all to bring you, and those you love, home. Of this I am a witness in the name of Jesus Christ, His Son, amen.

I was in the hospital, waiting to have surgery the following day, and my husband stopped to check on me on his way home from work. He told me that Jackie, our favorite baby-sitter, had taken our three little girls to the ward picnic with her own family. Five minutes later, Jackie’s father was in the room to tell us that our youngest girl had fallen off the see-saw at the picnic and was downstairs in the emergency room having a badly cut chin sewn back together .
Meanwhile at the picnic, our six-year-old daughter looked around her and suddenly realized that most of the members of her family weren’t there. The only sister who remained at the picnic with her was playing with the children who attended her Sunday School class. The park was unfamiliar to her, and with every passing moment it grew darker. Many feelings filled her mind, and suddenly her cries were heard over all the festivities. She knew exactly what she needed: “I want my home teacher!” Within minutes, she was on Brother Braden’s kindly lap, and the crisis was over.

I have always been ambitious about education and leap at every opportunity. One year in high school, I took courses at the local community college through a program funded by my school. I really like computer science, and I was excited to take a computer programming class so I could learn more.
When I got my schedule from the college, I realized that my programming class was at the same time as my Young Women activity every week. I tried to ignore it at first and tell myself that education was encouraged by the Church and that I was doing the right thing. As the time for classes to start drew nearer, I felt more and more uncomfortable about taking the class. When the time came that I had to tell my Young Women leader that I wouldn’t be making it to any of the activities, she sounded devastated. She told me that I would be sorely missed, and she would do anything to help me.
After talking to her, I felt bad that I thought the class was more important. When I got home, I went to my room and looked at the goal board I had made for Personal Progress. I had written on it, “If you want something, you’ve got to prove it.” I read my scriptures with that in mind and came across Mosiah 2:21. I realized I had to prove that I was going to serve God and not myself by letting my desires get in the way. I cancelled the class the next day. I had a wonderful year of Young Women activities, and I was able to set a higher priority for the Church in my life. I know it was the right thing to drop that class, and I am really glad that I did.

We met that Christmas day in Portugal with the other missionaries in our zone, exchanging gifts and enjoying the holiday together. Although the rain outside the Porto chapel hadn’t dampened our spirits, something did seem to be missing. My companion and I decided to visit our investigators and sing Christmas songs. Everyone else liked the idea, too, and soon we were all gathering our raincoats, umbrellas, scriptures, and hymnbooks.
The first group we visited lived close to the city center in an abandoned monastery. They were Portuguese families who had lived in Africa, but the civil wars had forced them to flee to Portugal. They had been wealthy in Africa but now had almost nothing.
We climbed the creaky stairs of the monastery as the roof leaked big drops of water on our heads. As we began to sing, the children, with bright eyes, came out first, followed shortly by their parents. Soon all the inhabitants of the monastery were listening to our Christmas songs. Some tried to sing along but didn’t know all the words. The rain seemed to accompany the songs as background music, and then our tears began mingling with the rain as the Spirit bore witness to us that we were all truly brothers and sisters.
We left some church pamphlets, encouraged our investigators to continue with the discussions, and invited all to attend our church meetings.

Corey had a plan. Not just an ordinary plan, but a terrific plan. His dad had put a platform on the biggest branches of their old sycamore tree, and now Corey was going to build a clubhouse on the platform. For weeks he’d gathered old boards and leftover wood scraps given to him from the construction site at the end of his street.
“It’s going to be a big job,” Mom told him after inspecting his woodpile. “How do you plan on making it?”
Corey just shrugged and smiled. “You’ll see,” he said.
That afternoon Corey got out the little red toolbox that was given to him for Christmas the year before. He frowned as he hefted the hammer. It was smaller than he remembered. He sighed, put the hammer back, and closed the toolbox lid. It would have to do.
Mom gave him a handful of nails from the large can on Dad’s workbench, and Corey went to work, being extra careful not to hammer his thumb. It was much harder than he had expected it to be. But while he arranged the boards and hammered the nails, he thought about what a great clubhouse it was going to be.
By the time Dad arrived home that evening, Corey had two walls finished. The boards teetered precariously, but Corey was sure that the branches would help keep them up. He imagined his friends and himself having very important meetings in the clubhouse.
Dad came out to inspect Corey’s work. “Hey, pal,” he commented, “that’s quite a project. What’s it going to be?”
Corey’s eyes sparkled. “A clubhouse! I’m going to start a club, and I’m only going to invite my very best buddies. No one can come into my clubhouse without an invitation.”
Dad nodded thoughtfully. He left for a few minutes, then came back with his big toolbox. “Need a hand?” he asked.
Corey grinned. “All right!”
Corey and Dad worked together, straightening the crooked spots and securing loose nails. They built the other two walls, a fine roof, and a sturdy, pull-up ladder. When they were finished, Corey looked proudly at their work. It was even better than he’d hoped—it was perfect!
“Now I’m going to make the invitations to my club,” he told Dad as they sat down for dinner.
“I want to be in your club,” Sara pleaded as she picked at the casserole on her plate.
Corey looked at his little sister. “This is a club for my closest friends,” he told her. “You can’t come without an invitation.”
As Corey lay in his warm bed that night, he thought about his clubhouse. All at once, he knew who he would give the first invitation to. He couldn’t have built such a terrific clubhouse without Dad. There probably wasn’t a better buddy in the whole world. He would be a super club member. Corey fell asleep wondering whom else to invite to join his club.
After school the next day Corey colored bright invitations and tucked them into envelopes. Mother set a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies on the counter where he was working, and she kissed him on the cheek.
In his very best handwriting, Corey spelled Dad on the first envelope. He picked up a cookie and took a big bite. He frowned a little, trying to decide which of his friends to invite. After all, the club was only for his best buddies.
Corey watched Mom folding clothes at the table. He looked at the delicious cookies she’d baked for him. It was pretty certain that nobody did more for him than Mom. He smiled as he thought, I’ll invite Mom to my club too. And as he left the invitations on their pillows, Corey imagined how happy Mom and Dad would feel to be invited to his club. He felt happy himself, just thinking about it.
While Corey was doing his chores that night, he was still trying to decide whom else to invite to his club. As he rinsed the dinner dishes and placed them in the dishwasher, Sara came in the kitchen. “Can I help?” she asked.
Corey pulled a stool to the counter so that Sara could hand the dishes to him. They laughed together when warm water splashed across a plate and sprayed both their faces. Sara was a pretty good pal. Later that night, after she had gone to bed, he wrote Sara’s name on the third envelope and left it in her shoe.
Little Benny, Corey’s baby brother, was doing a funny dance when Corey realized that his club just wouldn’t be complete without Benny. He left Benny’s invitation next to his stuffed lamb.
The next evening the family began arriving at the clubhouse. First Dad, then Sara, then Mom and Benny. They brought their invitations with them and showed them to Corey at the bottom of the ladder.
Sitting in a circle on the floor, they laughed and sang and munched on popcorn that Mom had brought from the house. It was probably the best family night ever. And Corey was certain that his club was the greatest club in the universe because he had the best buddies a guy could ask for.

As a cross-country runner I am often tempted to give up and quit during a race. During my first race this year, when I was just about to be overpowered and stop running, the words to the third verse of “How Firm a Foundation” filled my mind. The words gave me the courage to finish the race. But all this time I’ve been wondering how I came to know this verse when I hadn’t heard the song for so long.
As I was glancing through the August 1989 New Era I read how a girl was comforted in the story “A Song of the Spirit.” That’s where I had read the words to the song, and in a moment when I too needed comfort, the words came to bless me. Thank you for that special story which aided the Spirit in reminding me I am not alone.

David worked hard in physical therapy because he was determined to serve a mission. Some of his friends said serving a mission wasn’t necessary since he was in a wheelchair, but David didn’t agree. “I knew the Lord wanted me to serve,” he says, “so I decided I would do everything in my power to make it possible.”
Soon he could shower and dress himself, drive his car, and take his wheelchair just about anywhere. In fact, after his doctor said it was impossible, David even learned to put on a brace and walk with crutches by moving his shoulders to push his body forward. For someone with no sense of balance or ability to feel the ground under him, this was an incredible feat.
After high school graduation David couldn’t wait to turn 19 and send in his mission papers. His doctor attached a note verifying he was totally independent.
But it was not to be. Instead of a calling, David’s letter informed him he could not serve a full-time proselyting mission.
“I was crushed,” says David. “I had worked so hard, and it seemed it was all taken away from me in just a matter of seconds.” But David didn’t quit. In an interview at Church headquarters, he was assured there was a mission for him.
One week later he was called to serve a welfare mission at the Deseret Industries (D.I.) in St. George, Utah, while living at home with his parents. David was not prepared for such a call. “To tell the truth, I was disappointed again,” he says. But he kept thinking of the words to a Primary song: “I will go; I will do” (“Nephi’s Courage,” Children’s Songbook, 120–21). He realized the Lord wanted him to serve at Deseret Industries, a Church-owned thrift store and job-training facility. At D.I. David would help those who were working to gain and improve their job skills.
“I look back now and think how foolish I was. I had no clue what a blessing this mission would be,” David says.
Not only has David been blessed, but his sense of humor and positive attitude touched more than 250 people he worked with through D.I.’s self-sufficiency and missionary programs. “Whenever we were having a bad day, we would just come and find Elder Eves,” says Debbie Kelly, a trainee. “When we saw how happy and positive he was, even in a wheelchair, we would ask ourselves, ‘What are we complaining about?’”
As a missionary, Elder Eves spent mornings tutoring trainees who were working on their high school certificates or an equivalent diploma. “I could not have passed my math section without him,” says Brandy, a single mother working to improve her employment skills.
But David’s tutoring wasn’t just about teaching educational skills. He also taught the missionary discussions to Rita Roberts, another trainee. “He helped me understand the gospel step by step,” Rita says. “And I knew I could count on him for anything. He and his family helped me move twice. You couldn’t find a better person—not just in the classroom, but anywhere. He’s unique.”
Besides tutoring staff members, David was responsible for many devotionals at D.I.
“One day it was Elder Eves’s turn to give the devotional,” says Sister Scott, another welfare missionary at D.I. “Everyone was there but him. In a few minutes, in he came, walking with his braces. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room as he talked to us about overcoming adversity and working with your hand in God’s to accomplish any goal.”
David loved serving at D.I., but his missionary efforts didn’t stop there. In the evenings, he team taught with full-time missionaries. These efforts resulted in several conversions, including one young woman who asked him to perform the baptism.
“I figured if she had enough faith to ask me to baptize her, I had enough faith to find a way to do it,” remembers Elder Eves. And so on 1 January 2000, Elder Eves sat in his shower chair in the font, said the baptismal prayer, and lowered Robin Rasmussen into the water. No one will ever forget the spirit present that day.
David brings a feeling of hope and peace wherever he is. And his sense of humor puts others at ease. “If others see me joking, they are more comfortable around me,” he explains. “When they realize I’m happy because of the gospel and my many blessings, the whole wheelchair thing disappears and they see me as a person.”
And counting blessings is what Elder Eves concentrates on. “The one thing my mission taught me more than anything else is how blessed I am. When I saw the problems some of these people at D.I. deal with, I wondered if I could do what they do. I have a family who loves me, I have the gospel, and I have had the opportunity to serve the Lord on a mission. I couldn’t ask for more,” he says.
David currently attends college on a full scholarship and exercises on his bike and braces. “I work out in those leg braces every day to keep my legs stretched so that when I do walk again I’ll be ready,” he says. And he says it with the same confidence with which he bears his testimony.
“I love Doctrine and Covenants 121:7–8: ‘My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; and then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high.’ I know Joseph Smith was the prophet of the Restoration and that Jesus Christ is our Savior and loves each of us. Sometimes when we’re going through hard times, it seems like we’re alone, but we’re really not. He’s right there with us. And with this knowledge, everything else falls into place.”

When my baptism and confirmation was only a day or two away, I had a fever and was not feeling very well. I did not want to postpone my baptism. I felt I should go ahead on the appointed day. Many relatives and friends, some of whom are not members of the Church, came to my baptism. When I was baptized, my fever went down right away, and I felt a lot better. That day I felt the Holy Ghost very strongly. I am grateful that I could be baptized and receive the Holy Ghost.
Sara M., age 8, Spain

A few years ago, Sister Joyce Audrey Evans, a young mother in Belfast, Northern Ireland, was having trouble with a pregnancy. She went to the hospital, where one of the nurses told her she would probably lose the baby. Sister Evans replied, “But I can’t give up. … You have to give me hope.” Sister Evans later recalled, “I couldn’t give up hope until all reason for hope was gone. It was something I owed to my unborn child.”

Three days later she had a miscarriage. She wrote: “For one long moment, I felt nothing. Then a profound feeling of peace flowed through me. With the peace came understanding. I knew now why I couldn’t give up hope in spite of all the circumstances: you either live in hope or you live in despair. Without hope, you cannot endure to the end. I had looked for an answer to prayers and was not disappointed; I was healed in body and rewarded with a spirit of peace. Never before had I felt so close to my Heavenly Father; never before had I felt such peace. …

“The miracle of peace was not the only blessing to come from this experience. Some weeks later, I fell to thinking about the child I had lost. The Spirit brought to my mind the words from Genesis 4:25: ‘And she bare a son, and called his name Seth: For God, said she, hath appointed me another seed. …’

“A few months later I became pregnant again. When my son was born, he was declared to be ‘perfect.’” He was named Evan Seth.

Raking leaves wasn’t as easy as Shannon had thought it would be. And it wasn’t as much fun as it looked. The rake was taller than she was and was hard to hold.
“Do you want me to help you?” her mother asked.
“No, thank you,” said Shannon. “I want to do it by myself to surprise Dad.”
The autumn air was crisp like the crunchy leaves crackling under her feet. But the sun shone brightly, and, feeling hot from the exercise, she took off her sweater.
“Would you like a glass of lemonade?” Mom asked.
This time Shannon said yes.
“Dad will be pleased with your surprise.”
“I know.” Shannon finished her drink and hurried back outside. She wanted to be done before Dad got home.
She raked and raked and raked. Finally there was only a giant pile of colored leaves in the middle of the yard. She could hardly wait to show her surprise to Dad.
Mom called to her from the kitchen window. “Guess whom I hear pulling up.”
Shannon ran around the house and down the sidewalk to greet her father. A sudden gust of wind almost swept her off her feet, but Dad caught her and gave her a bear squeeze. “I’d better hang on to you,” he said, laughing. “I don’t want my favorite daughter to blow away.”
“Come to the backyard, Dad,” she said, pulling him along. “I have a surprise for you.”
Just before they got there, Shannon said, “Now close your eyes and don’t open them until I say so.” She led him the rest of the way, going slowly so that he wouldn’t trip. “My pile of leaves!” she wailed. “It’s gone everywhere!”
Dad opened his eyes. “Don’t feel bad, honey,” he said after she’d choked out what had happened. “It was a wonderful surprise.”
“How could it be wonderful when it’s not even there anymore?”
“Well, a pile of leaves isn’t really the surprise—it’s knowing that a special little girl worked very hard to do something nice for her dad. The wind can’t blow that away, no matter how hard it tries.”
Shannon brightened up. “Really?”
“Really,” Dad said and kissed her forehead. “I bet the two of us could rake up these leaves again in no time if we did it together.”
Shannon smiled. “I’ll get the rake.”

At age 54, before he was called as a General Authority, President Russell M. Nelson attended a meeting in which President Spencer W. Kimball challenged attendees to “be of service to the Chinese” and “learn their language.”
Although he was a busy heart surgeon at the time, President Nelson took this counsel to heart. He found a tutor to help him learn the Mandarin language.
It wasn’t long before President Nelson found himself sitting next to a distinguished Chinese surgeon, Dr. Wu Yingkai, at a medical convention. Because of his Chinese language studies, President Nelson was able to have a conversation with Dr. Wu. From there, the two doctors formed a lasting friendship and even visited each other’s countries.
President Nelson’s goal to learn Mandarin led to positive exchanges with China, as President Kimball had hoped for. After he was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, President Nelson even performed his last heart surgery on China’s most famous opera singer by special request.

In 2006, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) and the First Presidency determined that there should be a temple considered for San Salvador, El Salvador. We visited a number of properties, including a full city block located in the older central part of the city. As we drove from property to property, nothing seemed right.

Eventually, we passed by an emerging area in the west part of the city. I felt something in that area and walked around a number of blocks. One property surrounded by a wall was of particular interest. I reached out to the owners and received word that the property was not available, so I went home.

But the prophet had said a temple would be built in San Salvador, so I returned to look at other properties. Once again I found myself drawn to the property with the wall, and I made contact again. They repeated that the property was unavailable.

I returned home again but couldn’t shake the feeling that this was where the temple should be. I contacted the family and asked if they would at least meet with me. They agreed to do so. Once again, I traveled to San Salvador, accompanied by Robert Fox, a friend and employee in the Church’s real estate division. That morning we knelt in prayer in my room before beginning the day and asked for the Lord’s assistance.

As we drove through the gate to the home, it was almost like entering a sacred garden. There were trees and flowers, and the busy noise from outside stopped at the gate. Mr. Roberto Dueñas, his brother, and two of Roberto’s sons were awaiting us. They greeted us and escorted us into their ancestral home—which was large and spacious.

We told them we were there by assignment of the president of our Church and that he wanted to bless the country and Church members by building a temple there. I showed pictures of other temples. I said we felt that their property, their ancestral home, was the right place.

It was no surprise when they once again declined, but we had to make the attempt. And so for almost an hour we tried every avenue of approach, such as a straight outright purchase, an exchange of property, and every other option we could think of. But they were firm in their resolve and said no to every offer.

We had done everything we could do. We had prepared. We had done the best we knew how. But it simply was not enough.

My heart was filled with an urgent prayer: “Father, please help us to know what to say or do.”

At last it became evident that our trip had been in vain. It appeared that nothing would change their minds. But as we began to prepare to leave, something happened. The Spirit of the Lord entered the room. It was tangible. Everyone in the room felt it. It was one of the most powerful spiritual experiences I have ever felt.

Roberto Dueñas, who was not a member of the Church, began to cry. Mr. Dueñas turned to his brother and said, “If we can’t sell our ancestral home, couldn’t we sell the very best of the property we have across the street?”

His brother responded affirmatively. We then talked about the other property. They owned several hundred acres across the main road from their ancestral home, with the heart of the property jutting out slightly so that every car that traveled the road would see the temple.

That was the property they offered for the temple of the Lord. It truly was a miracle. From that moment forward, the blessings of the Lord attended the process. On August 21, 2011, President Henry B. Eyring, then-First Counselor in the First Presidency, dedicated the temple to the Lord’s service.

I testify that a beautiful temple graces the hills of San Salvador not as a result of anything Brother Fox or I said or did. It stands there today because of the powerful ministerings of the Holy Spirit of our Almighty God.

It was not until the last session of the General Authority, Area Seventy and General Officers Leadership Training, during the April 2021 general conference, that I finally received the spiritual witness I had been seeking since my call. I will never forget that moment.
This session’s agenda was for all 15 apostles and prophets to bear their testimonies and witness of Jesus Christ. The solemnity and sacredness of this occasion is glorious. It was Elder Neil L. Andersen’s testimony that changed my perspective and gave me the reassurance that I was searching for.
Elder Andersen explained how he felt when he was called to The Quorum of The Twelve Apostles. He said when he first sat in the seat that Elder Ulisses Soares now occupies, he looked up the row at the other 11 Apostles and the First Presidency, and feelings of personal inadequacy overwhelmed him. When I heard Elder Andersen say that, I sat up straight in my chair because I knew that what he had just said—and what he was going to say next—was specifically for me.
When Elder Andersen shared that sacred experience, it became sacred to me also. It was the confirmation that I needed.
I know that Heavenly Father and His Son did not call me because of anything I had done to qualify for this role, but it was because They love me. They know I can change, and They know I can help Them in Their glorious work: to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of all Their children. (See Moses 1:39.)

In grade school and junior high, Kalin participated in athletics, but by the time he was a sophomore in high school, things began to unravel. He was skipping too much school and his grades were going downhill. He played in four games; then his poor academic record forced him off the team. For two years of high school he watched games from the stands. He started hanging around some guys with gang affiliation. The bond between these guys appealed to Kalin, who was not used to being close with anyone. He became a follower.
Then things hit bottom for Kalin. He got kicked out of school for fighting in defense of a friend. He got caught riding on a scooter someone else had stolen. He wrote a suicide note to his mother. “I don’t know if I was serious,” says Kalin, “but I put it in my mom’s purse, and she found it.”
His mother took him to a hospital for help, and things turned around for Kalin. “I decided I had to change. I saw a lot of guys older than me doing nothing, hanging around selling drugs. I couldn’t see myself that way. I knew I was a fairly bright kid. I knew there was a purpose for me. I always prayed every night before I went to bed. I didn’t know why I did that. Nobody taught me. It was something I felt I had to do.” Only later did Kalin realize that those early feelings that helped him to pray every day prepared him for the changes he would make in his life.
Looking for a new group of friends, Kalin watched the people he admired to see what they were doing. He saw they were going to class, getting good grades, and playing sports. In one semester of school, he raised his grades to As and Bs. He played football and basketball his senior year of high school. As a high school running back, he was all-conference, all-region, and all-state. He was named Nevada’s Gatorade Player of the Year. But he paid a price for messing around for two years of high school. He was not eligible to be recruited by a Division I football school. He was headed to a junior college. He chose Dixie College in St. George, Utah, because it had a good football program and was close to home.

I find the New Era very helpful in my daily life. No matter what is going on, I can turn to the New Era for help. I really enjoyed “Somebody Had It Harder” in the November 2003 issue. I can relate to the author, Elder Preston. I am a new missionary. I entered the mission field unsure of what I was doing here. Then one night, while studying, I learned that the Lord knows why I am here. I know He put me in Nebraska at this time, and I will do His work.Elder Brian Bodell, Nebraska Omaha Mission

As a young teenager I participated in a Church basketball game. When the outcome was in doubt, the coach sent me onto the playing floor right after the second half began. I took an inbounds pass, dribbled the ball toward the key, and let the shot fly. Just as the ball left my fingertips, I realized why the opposing guards did not attempt to stop my drive: I was shooting for the wrong basket! I offered a silent prayer: “Please, Father, don’t let that ball go in.” The ball rimmed the hoop and fell out.

From the bleachers came the call, “We want Monson, we want Monson, we want Monson—out!” The coach obliged.

Many years later, as a member of the Council of the Twelve, I joined other General Authorities in visiting a newly completed chapel where, as an experiment, we were trying out a tightly woven carpet on the gymnasium floor.

While several of us were examining the floor, Bishop J. Richard Clarke, who was then in the Presiding Bishopric, suddenly threw the basketball to me with a challenge: “I don’t believe you can hit the basket, standing where you are!”

I was some distance behind what is now the professional three-point line. I had never made such a basket in my entire life. Elder Mark E. Petersen of the Twelve called out to the others, “I think he can!”

My thoughts returned to my embarrassment of years before, shooting toward the wrong basket. Nevertheless, I aimed and let that ball fly. Through the net it went!

Throwing the ball in my direction, Bishop Clarke once more issued the challenge: “I know you can’t do that again!”

Elder Petersen spoke up, “Of course he can!”

The words of the poet echoed in my heart:
Lead us, O lead us,
Great Molder of men,
Out of the shadow
To strive once again.

I shot the ball. It soared toward the basket and went right through.

That ended the inspection visit.

At lunchtime, Elder Petersen said to me, “You know, you could have been a starter in the NBA.”

Mark Jensen, 16, got a taste of missionary life while spending three years in Copenhagen, Denmark. His parents, President and Sister Richard C. Jensen of Bountiful, Utah, were heading up the mission there.

When he was ordained a priest, Mark was able to baptize two Danish friends into the Church. Through a mission basketball program, youth activities, and Mark’s friendship, Kirstine Sorensen and Robin Hansen became interested in the Church.

“The Juan Fernández islands,” Papa said. “One of them is called Robinson Crusoe’s island.”
“You mean the place where he was shipwrecked and lived all alone until he found his man Friday?”
“Well, that was a make-believe place, just as Robinson Crusoe was an imaginary man. The Juan Fernández are real islands where a real sailor, Alexander Selkirk, was put ashore after he had an argument with the captain of his ship. He lived alone for four years, waiting to be rescued. His experiences there gave Daniel Defoe the idea for his book.”
It might not have been Robinson Crusoe’s island, but a real island where an actual man was marooned sounded like an exciting place to visit!

One Monday when we were celebrating Washington’s birthday, I was down at my mother’s sawing a log in the backyard. She came out to give me some direction and see how I was doing it, and she wasn’t very pleased. She thought I ought to do it differently. She went back into the house and in a few minutes my younger brother arrived. She said to him, “I think you’d better go out in the backyard and give Bruce some help and see that he does this thing right.” And then she said to him, “Bruce isn’t very bright.” Well, so I’m not. So I start where I am, and I go forward from there. I start using such talent as I have, and I begin to apply the principles of eternal truth to my life. I consult and counsel with the Lord in the process, and no matter where I am, the gospel takes me forward and onward and upward, and blessings flow to me that will ennoble and sanctify and improve me in this life and eventually give me glory and honor and dignity in the life to come.