Gospel Story Finder

Many times Amelia’s adventures were shared with Muriel. One time, when the family was moving and the last load was ready to go, the family cat, Von Sol, had run off, and the family had to leave without it. At the end of the next day, when nothing had been done to find the cat, Amelia and Muriel grabbed a gunnysack, climbed over a fence, went through a back alley, and set off for their former home. It was a long walk, but they made it. There by the door sat Von Sol. When the girls tried to capture him, the cat became frightened and scrambled up a nearby birch tree. The lowest limb was ten feet above the ground. Seeing no other way to get to the cat, and not being one to give up, Amelia shinnied up a porch post to the roof of the house. From there she climbed onto a branch of the tree and up to where Von Sol was crouching. After a long discussion, Amelia coaxed the cat into the gunnysack. It was a very tiring walk home for the girls, especially with the weight of Von Sol in the gunnysack. And worry about their parents’ reaction to their adventure didn’t make the trip any easier. But Amelia was happy to have rescued Von Sol.

Sister Brough and I remember a time during our university years when poverty was a regular part of our daily lives. Some of you students may know what I mean. I suggested that we might consider carefully the choice between starvation and paying tithing. She, however, was firm in her commitment to pay tithing, and she prevailed. We continued to make our financial offering. Tithing was a sacrifice, more to me than to her, during that time of financial challenge.

Since those years, because of the sacrifice of tithing, our testimonies and faith have continued to grow. Why? Because the law of tithing is part of the law of sacrifice. We have learned that even the law of tithing is designed to teach us about the ultimate sacrifice of the Lord Jesus Christ.

Another way we partner with God is by letting our light shine. Eighteen years ago, while I was serving as a bishop, a woman visited our ward for a Sunday worship. After the service, I invited her to meet in my office. During our discussion, a Primary child walked into my office, greeted the visitor, and gave me her tithing envelope, after which I proceeded to shake her hand and thank her. These few seconds with this faithful Primary child touched the visitor, and she began to ask questions about tithing and other doctrines of the Church. She later joined the Church and today serves as a stake Relief Society president—all because a Primary child was living the gospel.

For instance, as soon as I returned from a four-day Scout camping trip recently, my wife said she needed to talk. I was completely exhausted and couldn’t concentrate on anything. I might have tried to listen to her until I fell asleep. I might have complained about her not being sensitive to my need for sleep. But, I decided to let her know that I appreciated her need to share her experiences with me, but I was so tired I knew I would be a poor listener. We agreed on a specific time the next day when we would talk—and we did.

The importance of performing your role is illustrated by the experience of President David O. McKay.
While serving as a missionary in Scotland, David O. McKay's experience gave him the motto he used for the rest of his life...
While he and his companion returned home from visiting Stirling Castle, they passed a building where, above the door was a curious stone sculpture with the carved inscription:
"What-e'er thou art, act well thy part."
This message struck young Elder McKay so forcefully, that he decided to devote himself completely to always doing his best in whatever responsibility he had. The stone itself was designed by an architect named John Allen. Along with the inscription he included a design known as 'a magic square'. Each shape within the square represents a numerical value, and when you add the numbers in any direction it will always equal 18.One theory as to why the magic square was included with the phrase What E'er Thou Art, Act Well Thy Part is that if any of the shapes are rearranged or their values were changed, then the square will cease to be magic as it won't equal 18 in every direction. So in life, as we have different roles and responsibilities, if we don't do our part or give 100% then it will affect the outcome, be it family, church, or work and the whole organization will not function as intended. In other words What E'er Thou Art, Act Well Thy Part and the "Whole"  will function perfectly.

Dylan watched Mom pack her suitcase for her vacation with Dad.
“Tomorrow’s the big day,” she said. “I bet you can’t wait for all the fun things you get to do with Grandma and Grandpa!”
Dylan gave a little laugh. “Yup!” Mom and Dad had been planning their trip for a long time, and he knew they were really excited.
But why did he feel so nervous?
Dylan walked to his bedroom down the hall.
“What’s going on?” he said to his empty room. “Why do I feel like this?” He flopped down on his bed to think. He remembered when he’d first heard about Mom and Dad’s trip. He’d been a little disappointed that he wasn’t going with them.
But then he found out he’d be staying with Grandma and Grandpa. He loved their house! There was the huge old tree in their backyard. Perfect for climbing. There was a closet of games that they loved playing with him. Not to mention Grandma’s famous cookies!
But for some reason, Dylan wasn’t excited anymore. He couldn’t stop picturing the moment when his parents would drive away. They would be so far away for an entire week! What if he wanted to talk with them but they couldn’t answer the phone? What if they forgot about him? He’d never been away from them this long before.
Dylan decided it was time to pray. He slid off his bed onto his knees. He told Heavenly Father all the things he was worried about. “Please help me to feel happy about the trip and to stop feeling so scared,” he prayed.
He felt a little better as he climbed back into bed. He knew Heavenly Father had heard his prayer, but how would He help? Did Heavenly Father even understand what it was like to feel homesick? Then Dylan thought about how Heavenly Father sent all His children to earth. It must be hard to send them away for so long—and so far away too. Maybe Heavenly Father did understand. Maybe Heavenly Father missed him!
Dylan started to feel warm inside. The Holy Ghost was telling him that Heavenly Father loved him very much. He thought about Grandpa and Grandma. He imagined the big hugs they’d give him. That made him smile. He kept imagining those hugs as he fell asleep.
The next morning Dylan felt a little better when he woke up. Something smelled good in the kitchen. Sure enough, Dad had cooked a huge stack of pancakes!
“Those look yummy,” Dylan said.
“Hey, Grandma and Grandpa aren’t the only ones who can make an amazing breakfast!” Dad said with a laugh.
Dylan grinned. He’d almost forgotten about Grandpa’s smiley-faced chocolate-chip pancakes. He didn’t say it out loud, but Dylan liked those pancakes even better than Dad’s. He couldn’t wait to have them again.
The rest of the morning zoomed by. Dylan helped carry the suitcases out to the car. He put on his backpack and double-checked that he had his favorite books.
Pretty soon they were pulling up to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. Grandma waved from the front porch.
“Dylan!” Grandpa called out from the doorway.
Dylan jumped out of the car and ran to them. Grandma and Grandpa gave him the biggest, longest hug in the universe. Thank you, Heavenly Father, he prayed silently. Thank you for helping me not feel so afraid. Maybe a week wouldn’t be too long after all.

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Martin walked along the path that led from his family’s summer home to the lake. A vivid splash of orange and pink streaked across the sky. This was a path he had walked many times before. It was all familiar to him: the trees, rocks, even the old boathouse at the end. He knew it all well. Often he had walked along this path to go fishing or swimming, yet tonight he had something else on his mind.
The wooden boards of the boathouse came into view as he came over a ridge in the trail. As a child he had played in its walls with his brother. It would become the fort as they were under attack from an imaginary enemy, or a stop along a spy trail. They had spent so much of their youth there. But tonight the memories of the past faded to reflections in the dirty windows. He and his younger brother had both grown, and those playful times were gone.
He stopped for only a few minutes to look through the dusty windows. He wiped the cobwebs away with his hand. Inside, the family rowboat sat, waiting for someone to come. Against the wall were several old fishing poles and boat oars. Several buckets and shovels were scattered across the floor. His mother had stacked all the life jackets in the corner, all but one that lay on the floor near the door. He moved around to the front and opened the door. The rusted hinges moaned with age and time. He pushed the buckets away and made his way to the pale orange life jacket. He picked it up and held it for a moment. His mind drifted back to those days when his father would say, “Don’t go in the boat without a life jacket!” So many times he had heard these words. He smiled and held the jacket close to his chest.
He walked from the boathouse toward the water’s edge. The tired sun cast long, golden arms upon the water in a final embrace. As he walked, Martin put the old, worn jacket on over his black school sweatshirt. As he reached the weathered dock, he stopped. Again memories crept into his mind. He had spent countless hours at this dock. Here, his father had taught him to dive. This was where he had looked for a sunken treasure chest with his brother. He smiled at the thought of so many summers. He bent down and gathered a handful of stones before strolling onto the dock. A single lamppost at the end greeted him with a dull yellow glow. The feeling of his first summer romance filled his chest. Here below this very lamppost, he had said his good-byes to the “girl of his dreams.” They had parted with a small kiss, and his summer had ended.
He sat on the end of the dock and removed his dusty canvas shoes. He then rolled his khakis up over his calves so that he could let his feet dangle in the water. He sat almost breathless as he marveled at the beauty of the evening. So many colors, so many pictures, all painted by God’s skilled hand. He let his feet down into the cool lake. A shock ran up his leg as he felt the cold mountain water surround his ankles. The sounds of evening seemed to float through the air around him. How peaceful it all was. He looked at his reflection in the water. Where had the messy-haired little boy gone? he wondered. The face of a 20-year-old young man looked back at him. He dropped a stone into the lake. He dropped a few more. He looked up toward the sky to find the sun had now slipped silently behind the mountains. Only the tattered lamppost cast out a few dim rays. He dropped another stone and watched as it sank quickly to the bottom.
Martin had been at the top of his class in high school. Nothing was standing in his way. His future was so bright. Yet something was blocking that light. He also felt as if he had to struggle to keep his head above water. He saw himself as the stones that quickly sank below the surface. He wondered why life was so hard. The words of his father again rang in his ears, “Don’t go in the boat without a life jacket!” That’s what he had wanted to find, a life jacket for life. It didn’t matter if he was with his friends or alone, he just hadn’t been able to keep that little bit above all the waves of life’s problems.
Martin remembered the summer when a girl from school arrived at the lake. Her family had purchased one of the homes nearby. He had seen her around but had never said much to her. At school, he had noticed that something was different about her. He was happy to have someone to talk to. His brother had found other friends, so it was nice to find someone to spend the long summer days with. Many times they would take a boat out on the lake, or go for long walks, or just sit on the dock and toss pebbles into the water. One afternoon, they had walked to a small store in the town and made their way back to the dock. “Sarah, may I ask you a question?” Martin asked.
“Sure,” came the reply.
“You always seem so … happy.” He paused to find the words he wanted. “How is it that you can always be so happy when everything around us is so depressing?”
The answer he received shocked him, yet it was something that would change his life forever.
Summer soon drew to a close and school began. Martin found it easier to stay afloat as he thought of the words of his newfound friend. He set out to learn all he could about this new idea he had been given. He talked with his family, friends, and others he felt could help him. Sarah introduced him to two others who shared with him the knowledge he desired. They gave him a book and asked him to read it. As he did, the answers he had been looking for became clear. His life began to change, and the obstruction to his bright future seemed to move aside. So much just seemed to fall into place. He learned that he had a Heavenly Father and an elder Brother, Jesus Christ, who loved him very much, in addition to his earthly family.
Two years had passed since the afternoon when it all began. Martin now returned to the very spot where it was started by a simple question. But this time he knew the answers. He pulled his feet out of the water and drew his knees up to his chest. He looked again at the man in the water. He laughed as he saw the reflection. There he was sitting with an old life jacket on. He marveled at how much his life had changed. Everything seemed so clear to him. As he looked out over the lake, his heart began to pound with excitement, knowing he too would be able to share his new knowledge with people. Much like the two young missionaries who had taught him so much about the life he should live, he would be able to give the same to someone else.
Martin rolled over onto his stomach. He rested his chin on his folded arms. He thought of the words and ideas that had saved his life—the ancient writings of men who provided the wisdom and counsel for which he had searched. He closed his eyes and offered a simple prayer of thanks. Martin thanked his Heavenly Father for sending his Son to make such a change in his life possible. Tears began to well up in his eyes. He focused again on the image in the water. Two tears broke the surface. It was almost as though he felt the warmth of a hand on his shoulder and knew his elder Brother was near. He sat for a moment longer; then he sat up and put his shoes on. He stood and removed the old life jacket. As it fell to the dock he smiled and spoke the familiar phrase, “Don’t go in the boat without a life jacket!”

The air in the gym is heavy, thick with the smell of rubber-soled shoes, of basketballs, and of sweat. In one corner, young men stretch and pull. One of them calls out, “Pasame la pelota!”
In unison, the other players repeat, “Pasame la pelota!”
“What does that mean, Kelly?”
“Pass me the ball,” Kelly answers. “Now try this, ‘a la izquierda,’ That means ‘to the left.’”
“A la izquierda!” the group answers.
And so the Spanish drill continues as the basketball players prepare for a scrimmage. You might think this is a scene from a gym class at the MTC, but guess again. It actually took place at the University of New Mexico, where the Lobos were preparing for a game against Brigham Young University. The Lobos were getting a crash course in Spanish from last year’s senior guard Kelly Graves, who served in the Chile Santiago Mission. It just so happens that the majority of the starters for BYU served Spanish-speaking missions, and sometimes they tried to confuse and intimidate the opposing teams by speaking Spanish on the court.
“Those BYU guys can’t fool me,” said Kelly. “I served a Spanish-speaking mission too. During our stretching time, we’ve been going over some Spanish phrases.”

I knew a faithful mother who humbled herself and asked, “What is keeping me from progressing?” In her case, the response from the Spirit came immediately: “Stop complaining.” This answer surprised her; she had never thought of herself as a complainer. However, the message from the Holy Ghost was very clear. In the days that followed, she became conscious of her habit of complaining. Grateful for the prompting to improve, she determined to count her blessings instead of her challenges. Within days, she felt the warm approval of the Spirit.

Today I asked Father to teach me to chop and split wood. He replied that Mother would not have wanted me to do a man’s work. That is true. Mother always wanted me to be a lady. But Father has too much to do. He can get no man to help with the farm and no woman to help in the house because we are Mormons. I explained that I keep running out of wood for the range, and if we want hot meals, I must learn to handle an ax.
So he taught me. It is harder than it appears, and tonight my hands are blistered badly. I intend to wear my second-best Sunday gloves tomorrow when I chop.

A few months into his mission, our youngest son and his missionary companion were completing their study when our son felt a dull pain in his head. He felt very strange; at first he lost control of his left arm; then his tongue went numb. The left side of his face began to droop. He had difficulty speaking. He knew something was wrong. What he didn’t know was that he was in the middle of a massive stroke in three areas of his brain. Fear began to set in as he became partially paralyzed. How quickly a stroke victim receives care can have a dramatic effect on the extent of his healing. His faithful missionary companion acted decisively. After calling 911, he gave him a blessing. Miraculously, the ambulance was only five minutes away.
After our son was rushed to the hospital, the medical personnel quickly assessed the situation and determined they should administer a medicine to our son that could potentially reverse the stroke’s paralyzing effects over time.1 However, if our son was not having a stroke, the medicine could have severe consequences, such as bleeding in the brain. Our son had to choose. He chose to accept the medication. While full recovery required more operations and many months, our son eventually returned and completed his mission after the effects of the stroke were substantially reversed.
The missionary companion and the medical professionals who helped our stroke-afflicted son in the mission field acted quickly. Our son chose to receive the stroke-reversing medicine. The paralyzing effects of his stroke that could have followed him for the remainder of his mortal life were reversed. Likewise, the faster we repent and bring the Atonement of Jesus Christ into our lives, the sooner we can be healed from the effects of sin.

Derek Fagan, 17, has excelled both in school and in seminary, and he credits an experience he had just before he received his patriarchal blessing. “We had been talking about patriarchal blessings in seminary. I prayed and asked if I should get my patriarchal blessing. Our stake did not have a patriarch at that time, but three days later, our new patriarch was called. I felt it was my answer. That was the time I decided for myself that the Church was true and I would try harder to do well and choose the right. My patriarchal blessing was amazing. I carry it around with me everywhere. Since early-morning seminary started, everything has been clearer. Even in school, I just learn very quickly now. It’s unusual to do ordinary level subjects for exams and then move up and take the exam at a higher level. The teachers were rather amazed when I moved from ordinary level to higher.”

As a young man recently returned from his mission, Rene found the girl he wanted to marry. They were happy, but very poor.
Then came a difficult time when their food and money ran out. It was a Saturday, and the cupboard was literally bare. Rene felt distraught that his young wife was hungry. He decided he had no other choice than to use their tithing money and go purchase food.
As he was leaving the house, his wife stopped him and asked him where he was going. He told her he was going to buy food. She asked him where he got the money. He told her that it was the tithing money. She said, “That is the Lord’s money—you will not use that to buy food.” He put the money back, and they went to bed hungry that night.
The next morning they had no breakfast, and they went to church fasting. Rene gave the tithing money to the bishop, but he was too proud to tell the bishop that they were in need.
After the meetings he and his wife left the chapel and started to walk home. They hadn’t gone very far when a new member called to them from his house. This man was a fisherman and told them he had more fish than he could use. He wrapped five little fish in a newspaper for them, and they thanked him. As they continued to walk home, they were stopped by another member who gave them tortillas; then someone else stopped them and gave them rice; another member saw them and gave them beans.
When they arrived home, they had enough food for two weeks. They were even more surprised when they unwrapped the package of fish and found two very large fish and not the five smaller ones they thought they had seen. They cut the fish in portions and stored it in their neighbor’s freezer.
They have repeatedly testified that never since then have they gone hungry.

In early June 1971, I was completing active military duty in California. My wife, Judy, had just given birth to our first child and was staying with her parents in a neighboring state. We looked forward to gathering members of our respective families at my in-laws’ ward to give our son a name and a blessing. My parents would be driving from California while I would be flying on Saturday—the day after I was to be released from the service. Everything was timed so that we could all be present for fast and testimony meeting on Sunday.
A day or two before my expected release date, I was notified that necessary paperwork would not be completed on time and that I would need to stay on the military base until the early part of the following week. Upon hearing the disappointing news, I wondered how we could carry out the blessing as scheduled. I explained my predicament to the personnel responsible for my discharge, but they were unsympathetic.
Still determined to carry out the blessing as planned, I remembered hearing a few weeks earlier about someone who could be bribed to arrange for early discharges. I was tempted to contact him, but paying a bribe so I could hurry off to give a priesthood blessing didn’t sit right with my conscience. I informed family members that we would have to postpone the blessing.
Three weeks later I received a telephone call from a military investigator. I had been named as a potential witness and possible defendant in a military bribery scheme. During our interview the investigator showed me photographs of servicemen suspected of being involved in the bribery scheme. The noncommissioned officer who had informed me of my delayed discharge was among the persons in the photo spread.
How grateful I am that I made the right choice! Had I not done so, my career dreams would never have been realized, and my ability to worthily bless my son would have been jeopardized. I realized then, and have been reminded many times since, that only by being obedient to the principles of righteousness can our “confidence wax strong in the presence of God” (D&C 121:45).

For the first few minutes everyone was quiet and shifted in their seats, just like I’d expected. I sat as still as possible, staring at my hands in my lap, listening as the fire popped and crackled and everyone breathed. Then I heard a rustle, and someone stood up. I didn’t look to see who it was. But once I heard his voice, I knew. It was John Caldwell, the star football player. Big John, scary John, John who had been gone all summer so he could work out some problems and had just come home.

He cleared his throat. I could hear his feet shuffle nervously in the dirt.

“I don’t know where to start,” he said. “I’m not too good with words, really. But I have something to say that you all need to hear.

“The last year of my life has been really rough. One night I felt really bad. So bad I didn’t think I wanted to see the morning. That feeling scared me a lot, so much that I did something I hadn’t done since I was a little kid. I got down on my knees.

“I was scared to pray, almost too scared to even try. I wasn’t sure if there was a God, and if there was, I didn’t know why He’d want to listen to me. But I needed to do something. Anything.”

“I don’t know how to explain it, really,” he said. “I don’t know what to say except that it felt like a blanket. I didn’t even have to try to say the right words. I just got down on my knees, and I could feel Him, and He was all around me. Right then, I knew everything would be okay. Somebody loved me, even if I didn’t even like myself, and for the first time I felt like I had the strength to go on.

“Now I want to make something out of my life. I still have a long way to go, but there’s one thing I can say without a doubt. I know there’s a God. He watched over me that night, and He’s been with me ever since.”

Sacred music has tremendous power to help us learn and live gospel principles. A sister was asked to talk to some youth in a seminary class about Church music. Her first question to the youth was, “What were some of the lessons you were taught in Primary?” There was no response. Then she asked the students if they could remember any Primary songs. Many hands were raised, and the youth shared countless song titles. The sister wrote gospel principles on the chalkboard, and Primary songs and hymns were listed under each principle. Those young people quickly understood that music teaches the principles of the gospel, and songs and hymns—and the messages they teach—are remembered for years.

Learning to improve relationships was the topic for the Sharon West Stake in Provo. In this difficult yet rewarding subject area, the girls learned about decision making, good manners, and the art of being gracious. Inspired by what she had learned at the workshops, one girl asked her younger brother for a date, taking time from a full schedule of work, school, and activities. Surprised and pleased, the brother said, “What, just me?” They did some of his favorite things and continued to build a closer bond. The gift of brotherly love was placed in the basket.

A recently returned missionary, Meg, was walking toward the doors of the Kona Hawaii Temple when she noticed a young woman sitting alone on a bench outside. Meg felt that she should speak to the young woman, but she wasn’t sure what to say. So she asked about the meaning of a tattoo on the young woman’s ankle. That began a conversation that allowed the young woman, Lani, to share her story.
Lani told Meg about her struggle to return to full participation in the Church, the nice members who were helping her, and her hope to someday be sealed to her baby daughter.
Meg invited Lani to come sit in the temple waiting room with her. They would not be able to go further into the temple yet, but they would be able to cross the threshold. Lani agreed, and they went together through the main doors. A temple worker showed them to a bench beneath a painting of the Savior.
As they sat together, Lani whispered, “I really wanted to come into the temple today, but I was nervous.” Because Meg followed the Spirit, she helped answer Lani’s silent prayer.

A second lesson I learned was from Sister Amy A. Wright, First Counselor in the Primary General Presidency, who spoke immediately following Elder Christofferson. She taught:
“Oftentimes we can find ourselves, like the lame beggar at the gate of the temple, patiently—or sometimes impatiently—‘wait[ing] upon the Lord [Isaiah 40:31].’ Waiting to be healed physically or emotionally. Waiting for answers that penetrate the deepest part of our hearts. Waiting for a miracle.”8
My prayer going into that general conference had been for immediate results. I knew this wasn’t realistic, but I hadn’t anticipated learning lessons about the importance of waiting.
Sister Wright continued: “Waiting upon the Lord can be a sacred place—a place of polishing and refining where we can come to know the Savior in a deeply personal way. Waiting upon the Lord may also be a place where we find ourselves asking, ‘O God, where art thou?’ [Doctrine and Covenants 121:1]—a place where spiritual perseverance requires us to exercise faith in Christ by intentionally choosing Him again and again and again.”9
I have given this concept a lot of thought since that general conference. Learning to wait, to be patient with my children and their choices, and to trust that the Lord is ever seeking after them has required a lot of effort on my part. I wish it were as simple as making the choice one time to believe and then being filled with peace for the rest of my days, as I pray that my children will choose to reach out to the Savior and exercise faith in Him. But it has not been that way for me. Some days it has felt easier to give in to hopelessness and despair, to give up because it may seem like “the plan isn’t working.” It has required great effort and spiritual perseverance to exercise faith and maintain hope in Heavenly Father’s plan when I’m seeing my children make choices that don’t reflect the divine truths I taught them. Yet, every day that I choose hope over despair, I am choosing Him. Again and again and again.
This struggle has brought me closer to God. It has made me turn to Him through prayer. It has focused my scripture study. It has turned me to the temple. Most of all, it has made me immensely grateful for the Atonement of Jesus Christ. I am so grateful to know that He loves my children and that He gave His life for them.
Learning to wait upon the Lord has become a sacred place for me. It has become a refining experience. Studying these general conference talks and focusing my gospel study has deepened my understanding of doctrine and strengthened my faith. I am learning line upon line, precept upon precept to trust in the Lord and in Heavenly Father’s plan of redemption while still praying that my children will choose to follow Jesus Christ and His gospel. And I am looking forward to the next general conference to add to my learning and my testimony.

Missionaries in all areas of the world spend their time searching for “golden” contacts, but for two weeks last August missionaries in the Greece Athens Mission gave their time to help those who were in search of Olympic gold.
Of the 70,000 unpaid volunteers at the Athens Olympics, 76 of them were full-time missionaries, including 14 senior missionary couples, who spent hour after hour in the sun assisting with anything from rifle shooting to equestrian events, swimming to judo wrestling.
“[The volunteer supervisors] have been so impressed with our missionaries, which we knew they would be,” said mission president John B. Ludwig during the Olympics. “[The missionaries] are making so many friends.”
Having previously worked with many Church members at the Salt Lake Olympics, Lisa Wardle, volunteer coordinator for the Athens Organizing Committee, allowed the missionaries to be included on the list of volunteers. Since then she has received many comments about how there is “something different” about the missionary volunteers—“something in their countenances,” President Ludwig said.
“I knew that the missionaries would be watched over and administered to, spiritually and physically,” says President Ludwig. “I knew that others would feel of our presence even though the missionaries had taken off their ties and name tags.”
After receiving special permission from the Church, the missionaries and President Ludwig followed a long approval process to be able to help at the games. They filled out extensive forms more than 10 months before the Olympics began. They then had to pass security checks and prove they were legally allowed to be in the country.
Initially, the Olympic committee was hesitant about accepting missionaries as volunteers, afraid that they would proselyte. Lisa Wardle assured the committee that it would not be a problem. And after members of the Olympic committee met with the missionaries, they agreed they had never met a better group of young people and were excited to have them aboard, President Ludwig said.
In fact, once the missionaries started training, supervisors were asking if they could have more volunteers just like them. They were impressed with the variety of backgrounds and languages spoken by the group.
Members of the Olympic committee were not the only ones with concerns, however. “My first concern was safety. The other concern was the disruption to the missionary schedule,” President Ludwig said. Sometimes the missionaries had to be up by 5:00 a.m. and to their scheduled venues by 6:30. Other times they would start at 3:00 p.m. and not return home until 12:30 or 1:00 a.m.
To make sure all the missionaries were safe and sound, President Ludwig set up a “command center” in the mission home. All missionaries were required to call in and report every day.
“It has been hard to a degree because [the missionaries] have broken out of their normal schedule, but overall they have said it has been a beautiful experience seeing the Greek people in a different light,” President Ludwig said. “It has been a breath of fresh air to us in Athens.”
Some of the missionaries see the opportunity to volunteer at the games as an answer to prayer, because in the past there have been problems with the way the public perceived the missionaries. Now the missionaries are making friends and helping to change the image of Latter-day Saint missionaries in Greece. “When they see us now there will be a whole different attitude. Many will welcome us to talk to them,” President Ludwig believes.
The missionaries feel that even if they don’t get one new teaching appointment, they have done important work by showing that the Church is willing to love and help others.