Gospel Story Finder

I received my patriarchal blessing as a young woman and was counseled to prepare myself with a good education and to learn early in life those virtues that go into homemaking and rearing a family. I so wanted the blessing of a family; however, that blessing wasn’t fulfilled until I was 37, when I eventually married. My husband had been widowed, so the day we were sealed in the temple, I was suddenly blessed with not only a husband but a family of four children.

Long before that, there were many days when I felt like I was skiing in flat light, asking the question, “What does the future hold for me?” I tried to follow the admonitions in my patriarchal blessing. I studied diligently to become a schoolteacher and continued my education to become an elementary school principal. I prayed to my Heavenly Father and sought the guidance of the Holy Ghost. I held fervently to the promise of prophets who assured me that if I “remain true and faithful, keep [my] covenants, serve God, and love [my] Father in Heaven and the Lord Jesus Christ, [I] will not be denied any of the eternal blessings our Heavenly Father has for His faithful children.”15

I know that my education prepared me for a life that has been nothing like I had envisioned as a young woman. I thought I was studying education to teach school and my future children, but I did not know the Lord was also preparing me to teach English in Mongolia on a mission with my husband and to teach the young women of the Church throughout the world and to teach my grandchildren the value of knowledge—all wonderful blessings I could never have imagined.

Besides my mother, I remember a Primary teacher I had when I was a young boy living in Provo, Utah. This teacher was over the Primary class that was called, at that time, the Guide Patrol. For the class we had a shoulder bandolier, and, similar to the Boy Scout program, we had to set goals and do certain things to earn emblems to put on the bandolier.
My Primary teacher made the most of her opportunity to serve. She was sincerely interested in helping us to grow and to choose the right. In true Good Samaritan fashion, she went the extra mile and frequently had us over to her home outside of Primary time. She worked individually with each member of the class to help us reach our goals, and she showed great compassion for those who needed special help and attention.
In addition to my parents and teachers, I can think of many Church leaders who are or have been Good Samaritans. A former bishop of mine, Les Goates, and a stake mission president I served with, Franklin D. Richards, are two such leaders who exemplified the traits of the Good Samaritan. Bishop Goates impressed me with his outstanding leadership ability. His example was one of unconditional love for the people he worked with and served. He knew that unselfish giving was the way to reach people and touch their hearts.
A number of years ago I was called to be a counselor to Elder Richards in a stake mission presidency in the Salt Lake East Mill Creek Stake. During that time Elder Richards was particularly instrumental in helping me to better learn the gospel and to see the importance of scripture study. He also helped me to realize what a great opportunity it is to serve.
Service doesn’t come without hard work and sacrifice, but work itself really is a blessing. Many people don’t understand that. I have learned to be grateful for work. I have seen people around me who are lazy and inclined to approach tasks with a “What’s in it for me?” attitude instead of the “What can I do for others?” attitude that the Good Samaritan had. Let us not view work and service as drudgery. Rather, let us see every day as a new opportunity and challenge to help those in need.

“Now let’s get started,” I said, a little bit nervous as a new district leader at the thought of performing my first baptismal interview. Nevertheless, I was doing my best to maintain an air of confidence that would put everyone at ease.
“Okay, teacher,” said the middle-aged Cambodian woman seated across from me. The elders in my district had been running a successful school to teach English to the Southeast Asian refugees who had settled in California’s San Joaquin Valley. Because of this school they were able to make a great many contacts, all of whom continued to address them and all other missionaries as “teacher.”
For the last several days I had been studying , and rehearsing the questions, and I was confident that there would be no problem at all with the interview. The elders who had been teaching her assured me that she was fluent enough in English that she would not require a translator. I offered the prayer and began with the questions.
“Have you prayed about the gospel of Jesus Christ, and have your prayers been answered?” The smile on her face widened and she began to laugh. Her head shook back and forth and she said, “I don’t know, teacher.”
Remembering that English could be a complicated language, I restated the question in simpler terms: “Do you know that the Church is true?”
Once again, she looked at me as if she did not understand a thing I had said, began to laugh, and said “I … I don’t know.”
I was stumped. As far as I knew, she had expressed the desire to be baptized, and she was attending the branch in the area that held services in Cambodian. What could I do? There was no way that I could allow her to be baptized without an interview, but she wasn’t understanding any of the questions, no matter how simple I tried to make them.
Not knowing what else to do, I reached for a flip-chart that the elders had given me in case I ran into difficulty. I flipped through the gospel principles that were written out in four or five of the languages used by the transplanted Asian people of the valley. Somewhere near what appeared to be the first discussion I came across a picture of the Savior. In desperation, I showed her the picture and asked, “Do you know Jesus Christ?”
All of a sudden her face lit up and she began to nod her head frantically. “Yes, teacher, yes, yes. I love Jesus Christ,” she cried in obvious recognition of the picture in front of her.
Finally we had struck common ground. Not knowing the ins and outs of the English language, she had summed up all of the words and emotions that convey a positive message into one word—love. Through the same process I was able to determine that she loved Joseph Smith, President Benson, the Ten Commandments, and the law of tithing.
In asking her about the Word of Wisdom, I was able to locate in the flip-chart a picture of some beer cans, cigarette packages, and coffee cups. When I showed her this conglomeration of substances that violated the laws of Jesus Christ, she reacted violently, shaking her head and declaring, “No, no teacher, no.”
When the interview was over, she had satisfactorily answered all of the questions, usually by doing no more than indicating her love for a particular person or concept. That afternoon I received a witness of the Spirit stronger than I have ever had that told me that she was prepared in every way for baptism. I congratulated her and told her that she could be baptized, and her face lit up again as she said, “Thank you, teacher, I love you.”
When she said this, I thought of the answer that Jesus Christ gave when he was asked which was the greatest of all the laws: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.
“This is the first and great commandment.
“And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself” (Matt. 22:37–39).
Although this woman humbly addressed me as “teacher,” her responses during the interview had taught me a great lesson. She had learned the essence of the gospel: she loved Jesus Christ unconditionally, and she loved everyone around her. Nobody had to convince her to keep the commandments of the Savior; this was a natural reaction for her. She loved Jesus Christ and wouldn’t think of knowingly breaking any of his laws.
Since that interview I have heard many powerful testimonies of the gospel. I have listened to people relate fantastic spiritual experiences and the Spirit has borne witness to each one. I have never, however, been affected by a testimony in quite the same way that I was during that interview in a humble apartment when a simple, refugee housewife said to me, “Yes, teacher, I love Jesus Christ.”

Although the relationship between Erroll and his father today is as close as it ever was, pressure from both sides of the family was to continue right up to the day of the scheduled baptism. “I remember my feelings on that day,” Brother Bennett now says. “We had gone through a lot of pressure, and we knew what we had to do. Yet somehow I felt I needed a final confirmation, a last indication from the Lord that all was well and that we should proceed.
“I remember going up the side of the mountain near my home where I like to jog, and privately pouring out my feelings to my Heavenly Father. I asked for confirmation, perhaps some message that I was about to take the right step. Halfway down the mountain on the way home, I offered the same prayer again.
“As I drew near my home, there was a car parked outside. It belonged to Gabriel Vaianui, a member who had been inactive for about ten years, attending church only intermittently. Gabriel had been at the market and had overheard someone say that Erroll Bennett had decided not to join the Mormon Church after all. He had then driven over to my home immediately to find out for himself.”
Erroll recognized Brother Vaianui as the messenger he had sought and promptly asked him, “Gabriel, should I be baptized today?” Without hesitation, the answer came: “Erroll, whatever you do, you must be baptized. Do not turn your back on the Church.”
Brother Bennett now speaks gratefully of Gabriel Vaianui’s counsel. “It was just what I needed—that little extra to give me the courage I lacked.”
The baptisms went ahead as scheduled, and afterwards Erroll Bennett had time to think. No one called from the soccer club with congratulations or criticism, and by the end of that quiet evening he had made his decision. It was no good agonizing over an elusive compromise, and there was little point in training if he wasn’t going to play on Sundays. The following day he would talk to Napoléon Spitz and withdraw from active soccer, leaving his position open to some other hopeful.

Shortly after Edward was born, Mary Ann moved with her children to Salt Lake City and took work as a midwife, cook, and cleaning woman. Since her meager income could not support the needs of her family, Edward left school when he was twelve and went to work on the night shift at the Salt Lake Tribune.
A few months later Mary Ann had saved five dollars from Edward’s earnings for tithing. “Eddy,” she told him, “I have not paid your tithing yet. I know that you have no overcoat, and you must walk many miles to and from work each might. With winter coming on, it’s going to be bitter cold when you return home at four or five o’clock in the morning. So I’ll give you this money, and you can either pay your tithing or buy an overcoat. I’ll leave the decision up to you.”
He did exactly what she knew he’d do. Edward later recorded, “I took the money, ran immediately over to the bishop’s home, and paid the tithing.”
A week later his Aunt Mary came to visit, and brought with her an overcoat that one of her sons had outgrown. It fit Edward perfectly and “was a better overcoat than [he] could have purchased for five dollars.” After that day, Edward recorded, he was always generous in paying his tithes and other Church offerings.

On that frozen morning, I heard shouting and distressed moos in the distance behind me as I ran to get an axe and some rope.
OK, hold on—let’s back up for some context.
Two years before that snowy morning, my family had moved from suburbia to a tiny little plot of farmland in Missouri. Our new property had some forested land to explore and a small pond, which was nice, but I wasn’t a fan of all the animals that I was now expected to help take care of.
Now, back to that cold winter morning. We could tell there was a problem when one of our poor little cows didn’t come to his food dish at the regular time, even after we shook the food in a metal tin. They were trained to come running when we shook the tin. It seemed to be some sort of angelic summons to them, but the tactic didn’t work that morning.
We kept waiting and soon heard distressed moos off in the distance. We went to investigate and discovered that the cow had walked out into the middle of the frozen pond and had fallen in. The pond was only about five feet deep, but the cow was quite small and had to bounce on his hind legs to keep his head above the frigid water.
And that’s when the yelling started.
My parents directed me to run to our toolshed a quarter of a mile away and bring back an axe that we could use to break up the ice, as well as some rope. The moment I got back to the pond, we tried to use the rope to pull the cow out but quickly discovered a couple of things: one, none of us actually knew how to tie a lasso, and two, the only rope available was closer in strength and size to twine. It seemed to me that our little cow was a goner.
My dad and mom really cared about that cow, so my dad led the charge, axe in hand, and they started to literally chop their way through the ice towards the cow, clearing a 20-foot-long path for the cow to walk out of the pond. Everyone was worried that either the cow would kick my dad or that my dad would accidentally hit the cow with the axe, but somehow the crazy plan worked. The cow didn’t drown!
But the worry wasn’t over. As soon as the cow got out of the water, he started shivering like an old washing machine on spin cycle. My parents were freezing too, but they were more worried about the cow. My dad ran to get a campfire started in the middle of the field while my mom ran to get some quilts. Us kids corralled the cow close to the fire so that he wouldn’t run away. Soon, he warmed up enough to stop shivering and eat some of his hard-won breakfast.

When I was a child, I liked doing things my dad did. He worked as a doctor. I often went with him to the hospital, where I saw him help patients. Watching my dad made me want to be a doctor too.
One day I was walking into the hospital with my dad. Another doctor walked out. He saw me and asked my dad, “Is this your son?” My dad said yes. The doctor knelt to look at me. He asked, “What will you be when you grow up?”
I said, “I want to be a doctor, like my dad.” Then he replied, “Well, I hope you’re as good a doctor as he is.” But my dad said, “No, I want him to be better than me.”
That helped me realize that my dad really loved me. He wanted the best for me.

What makes a job tough often comes down to your preferences. For Mindy F., a couple of tasks at a pizza parlor made her job one of the hardest she’d ever had.
“I absolutely hated talking to people on the phone!” she says. “I always wanted to be in the back making pizzas and let the other people answer the phone.”
However, this was a small pizza parlor. Mindy often worked alone while the one other employee on duty was out on delivery, which meant Mindy had to answer phones. “It’s such a silly thing, but I hated doing it,” she says.
Something else she hated was knocking on doors for deliveries. Even though customers had called for pizza, she still didn’t like approaching their homes. “It was so awkward just knocking on a random stranger’s door,” she says.
Mindy had only taken the job to fill the six weeks between coming home from college and her mission. And yet, it’s amazing how a few weeks of practice can help you improve at something. By the end of her six weeks, Mindy felt much more comfortable on the phone and with door approaches.
At the MTC, Mindy was answering phones in the referral center with confidence. Door approaches were also a big part of her mission. And the pizza job had helped with those skills.
“This job gave me practice with some of the things I’d be doing on my mission,” she says. Talk about an unexpected blessing!

July 1
Dear Sarah,
After Lindsay came home, Mom had to spend a lot of time caring for her, and I helped a lot around the house, I didn’t have much time for the garden. I didn’t go all week, and when I finally got over there on Saturday, Mr. Trujillo was really sad. About half of our tomato plants were gone. Gophers got them. They just burrow underneath and pull the plants down—one day you see them, and the next day you don’t. He said he didn’t know how to get rid of the gophers. He was afraid to put out poison because pets might get into it. And he didn’t want to flush the gophers out and bash them over the head the way some people do. He’s really a nice man.
I told him I’d pray about it, and he kind of smiled and patted my head. On Sunday I fasted and prayed for Lindsay to get all well and for a solution to the gopher problem.
Monday morning I thought of Billy Swenson who lives down by the river. Remember him? He’s the kid who has live traps and catches squirrels and stuff up in the canyon. I went to see him, and we made a deal. He said that he’d come and trap the gophers and turn them loose down by the river if I would give him some tomatoes, three pumpkins, and two watermelons when they’re ready.
Mr. Trujillo was pretty surprised and happy. He looked at me in that puzzled way he does sometimes.
It took Billy four days to get all the gophers, but they’re gone. Yesterday we set out more tomato plants.
Love,Angela the Problem Solver

When my wife, ‘Anau, and I were first married, I would carve small items and go to the market to sell them. Some days I would come back with money, other days I would sell nothing.
I heard about a man who had returned from Hawaii where a group of Maori from New Zealand taught him to carve wood. When we met, he said, “I’m not a teacher, I’m a carving man. But if you want to help build a kalia (a Tongan canoe), you can come with me.” I learned much about wood carving from him.
As a wood-carver, I have been able to support my family. My wife and I have three children of our own and three others we take care of. We do what we can to help the children. We try to show them the happiness the gospel brings.
Feinga further developed his woodcarving skills by building kalias from large pieces of wood. A kalia is a special kind of canoe made in Tonga.

I love church now! I’m Julieta. I was baptized a year ago. I learned about the Church accidentally when my father met the missionaries. Because of him we got to know the missionaries better. When I first started coming to church, it was really hard. Even after I was baptized, I needed to be persuaded to go. It felt like an obligation. Later, after I participated in youth conference, I started to love going to church. I gained a testimony and came to love the Church. Now I really love to attend church.
Julieta A., 17, Yerevan, Armenia

My whole life I have read about people receiving answers to their prayers, and felt left out and different. It seemed as if everybody always got their prayers answered but me—until I had an experience that changed the way I feel about prayers being answered.
My seminary teacher had assigned us to write a letter to someone in the class about how important it is to read the Book of Mormon. That evening my sister and I were in our room, and I was trying to think of something to write. My sister was on her bed listening to the radio. She suggested that I could write Doctrine and Covenants 1:37 in my own words. I tried, but I was still having trouble. She asked if I wanted her to turn off the radio and go out of the room so that I could say a prayer. I said yes, so she turned off the radio and went out.
I knelt down and, instead of praying in my mind like I normally do, I said the prayer out loud. I think it is one of the most sincere prayers I have ever given in my life.
I asked Heavenly Father to help me know what to write and to be able to have the Spirit with me while I was writing the letter. When I was through with the prayer, I could feel the Spirit very strongly and decided to follow my sister’s advice and write Doctrine and Covenants 1:37 [D&C 1:37] in my own words. After I finished writing I decided to look for more scriptures. As I was looking, Doctrine and Covenants 6:15 [D&C 6:15] caught my eye:
“Behold, thou knowest that thou hast inquired of me and I did enlighten thy mind; and now I tell thee these things that thou mayest know that thou hast been enlightened by the Spirit of truth.”
I couldn’t believe it! I felt like that scripture was a confirmation of the guidance I had been given by the Spirit to write my letter. Through the scriptures, I had not only received an answer, but I had also been able to recognize it.

The elders’ first meeting with Chea was quite accidental. Looking for another family, they happened to knock on his door. Chea was the only family member who spoke English. In the course of their conversation, he told them that he loved Jesus, wanted to find a church, and made them promise to take him to church the next Sunday. Elder Gooch recalls, “I was very impressed with Chea. He was extremely mature and seemed like a 25-year-old in an 11-year-old body.” Chea’s parents told the elders that their son visited several Christian churches on his own, but “didn’t feel right in any of them.” After hearing the discussions and attending sacrament meeting, Chea knew he had found what he was looking for. “The people are so nice. I feel I belong. As I learn the scriptures and read the Book of Mormon, I can feel Heavenly Father’s love for me.” Chea loves to sing and adds, “The music makes me very happy.” Although his parents have taken the missionary lessons, attend church often, and fully support Chea, they have not joined.

Part of the family celebration this year was a little black treasure box with gold writing on it. It was empty at first. Each of the family members drew the name of another person in the family. “We would try to do a lot of nice things for that person, like give them a few treats, make their bed, clean their room, things like that. Then each time we did that, we’d secretly put a coin in the treasure box and try to fill it up with good deeds,” says Ian. On Christmas Day it was filled with golden shekels.

When I went on an overnight field trip with my school, I decided I would still have scripture study. I even invited three friends to join me. One was a member of the Church, but my other two friends were Baptist and had never read the Book of Mormon.
Although we had our scripture study in the back of a moving bus, I could feel the Spirit. Each of us picked out a few verses to share with the group. I chose many from the Bible but also some from the Book of Mormon and the Doctrine and Covenants.
After we finished, my friends asked to look at the Book of Mormon. I showed them the Articles of Faith as well and told them about Joseph Smith. I also took the time to look at their Bibles, which were a different version from the one we use.
I feel so blessed to know that we have both the Book of Mormon and the Bible. And I can’t wait for the day when I will be able to share them both as a full-time missionary.

As visiting teaching supervisor in our ward, I felt a particular concern for the less-active sisters. I frequently prayed and asked the Lord to guide me in letting these sisters know we still cared about them. We made sure to inform them of our activities, and we had active sisters write a monthly note to each one.
One night as I was using a ward list to prepare a visiting teaching chart for our Relief Society president, I found an unfamiliar name and address of a sister within our ward boundaries. I thought it strange that I had not seen her name before, and I felt prompted that she should receive letters from a specific sister in our ward.
When I suggested this to our president, she agreed and made the assignment. However, even after several months, there was no response to the letters. Finally, the sister writing enclosed a self-addressed, stamped envelope and asked the less-active sister if she would like to continue receiving letters. When the return letter came, this less-active sister explained that a few years earlier she had committed transgressions, and Church disciplinary action had been necessary. Since then, she had felt hurt and bitter. However, now she would welcome a monthly letter.
Shortly after this happened, as I was typing a new visiting teaching list, I realized this less-active sister’s name was no longer on our ward list. I looked through old ward lists in my desk, but I could not find her name anywhere. I called the Relief Society president and ward clerk, but neither of them had any information. Where had I found her name and address? It became apparent to me that they had come from the Lord.
A few weeks later, I awoke from a deep sleep at 2:00 A.M. with the strong impression that I should write to this less-active sister immediately and tell her of the experience I had with her name and address. I felt the Spirit very strongly telling me what to write.
About a week after I mailed the letter, I received a phone call from this sister. She told me that for a long time she had been convinced that the Lord no longer knew she existed. But then my letter had come and she knew she had not been forgotten. This sister has now returned to activity in the Church.

The clowns must make up and be ready before everyone else to “warm up” the audience for the rest of the show. The clowns do slapstick comedy and vaudeville-type routines to get laughs from the crowd. Sometimes they all work together in one big rollicking show, and other times they work alone doing a routine of their own creation. Tim is the very first performer in the arena. He walks in with his huge shoes slapping on the hard rubber runway and a big bandage wrapped around his head. He groans and screams in pain from the most terrible toothache that anyone has ever had. But never fear, who should appear at the other end of the arena but a clown-faced dentist in a tuxedo who obviously has the equipment and know-how to help Tim get rid of his horrible toothache. This all seems fine to Tim until he sees the dentist’s equipment—a large hammer and a huge pair of pliers. Tim makes several attempts to escape but all to no avail. The dentist and Tork finally wrestle Tim to the ground right in front of the center ring, and with his huge pair of pliers the dentist extracts a huge foam-rubber tooth that had been hidden in Tim’s bandage. It’s a great laugh for everyone, and the clowns seem to enjoy it most of all. After a few more good routines, the crowd is warmed up and the show begins.

During the Great Depression, Harold B. Lee, serving then as a stake president, was asked by the Brethren to find an answer to the oppressive poverty, sorrow, and hunger that were so widespread across the world at that time. He struggled to find a solution and took the matter to the Lord and asked, “What kind of an organization will we have … to do this?”

And “it was as though the Lord had said [to him]: ‘Look, son. You don’t need any other organization. I have given you the greatest organization there is on the face of the earth. Nothing is greater than the priesthood organization. All in the world you need to do is to put the priesthood to work. That’s all.’”

During the early part of those nine years, there was one Latter-day Saint family in Delhi, the Shortlefts, who worked in the U.S. Embassy. I traveled to Delhi for sacrament meeting in their home. In 1962, Elder Richard L. Evans (1906–71) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles visited us, and in 1964, Elder Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles came. I remember placing a garland on Elder Hinckley and handing over my pot of saved tithing, which I had been accumulating for many years.
Unfortunately, these moments of fellowship—though helpful—were infrequent, and while in India I was devoid of the constant fellowship of other Saints. This troubled my heart. As the years wore on, lonesomeness was taking a toll on me, and I saw no future for me in India. I longed to have the priesthood and live among the Saints.
When I felt it was time to be closer to the Saints, I discontinued my law course and immigrated to Canada. When I landed in Edmonton, Alberta, I went to the nearest ward. I met Bishop Harry Smith and immediately felt a sense of belonging and fellowship in that ward. I visited the Cardston Alberta Temple, even though I could not receive my endowment yet.
I wanted to visit Salt Lake City and surprise my good friends Elder Kimball and Brother Lamar Williams. Finally, in the spring of 1969, eight years after my baptism, I visited Salt Lake City and met with Elder Kimball. He was delighted and spent the rest of the day with me.
While in Salt Lake City, I went to a salon for a haircut. I shared my testimony with the barber, who was a convert himself. One gentleman, waiting for his turn, overheard me and told me about his travels to India. He paid for my haircut, invited me to dinner, and drove me to Brigham Young University. I was impressed by the campus. I mentioned that I wanted to continue my studies here but could not afford it. The man offered to pay $1,000 for my tuition. I was surprised and immensely grateful.
Brother Dipty (left) with Paul Trithuvadass, another pioneer Church member from India, on Temple Square in Salt Lake City.
I joined the social work program at BYU. In 1972, after graduating from BYU, I moved to Salt Lake City to pursue a master’s degree from the University of Utah. Later I moved to California, USA, where I earned a PhD in clinical psychology, taught courses on how to stop domestic violence, and authored a book. I am now retired and live with my wife, Wendy, in Nevada, USA.
There was a time when I went through much personal strife, challenges, and tribulations. My focus on the gospel and the blessings of the temple helped me overcome many of life’s challenges.
I often look back at my journey from being a “jungle boy” in rural India to being where I am today and know that my life and faith are truly miracles. The Lord’s embroidery of my life is more beautiful than I ever expected. How wonderful it was to have the Lord’s anointed prophet Spencer W. Kimball school me and walk with me at key times in my life’s journey.
I often think back to my time with President Kimball. He would invite me to his family camping trips, picnics, and Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. Even then I knew that he truly was an Apostle and prophet of the Lord Jesus Christ.
I met President Kimball one last time while he was very ill. But he still smiled at me and hugged me. He was my first LDS contact, and I knew he would never let go of me.
I am thankful to God for our prophets and the restored gospel. Our Church is the divine model the world needs today. Because of the Church I was able to gain an education and grow as a person. I am grateful for that day when I knew prayer was real and that I was willing to listen to the still, small voice and investigate the Church. I am grateful that I allowed the Lord to shape my life. I know that if we seek His kingdom, everything else will be added to us (see Matthew 6:33).

Lance Reynolds can understand that feeling. Football had become an important part of his life at an early age, beginning with children’s football teams. He played for the team at Granite High School in Salt Lake City and was chosen to be on the team of top players of the region when he was 16 years old. He was selected to the top team in the state and again to the top team of the region.
The year Lance entered Brigham Young University was the first year that first year students were allowed to play on the first (top) team representing a university, and he played with the varsity football team enough to win a school letter. His second year he was on the starting team, and his third year promised to be a great one—he would have been the only player in his position on the team returning. But it was time for Lance to go on his mission, and although he had always planned to go, the final decision was a difficult one to make.
“At the time,” he remembers, “leaving on a mission seemed like the end of all hopes for a football career.” It seemed like a choice between football and a mission. He chose the mission.
Five years and a professional contract later, Lance no longer feels that you have to make a choice. “Why not do both?” he asks. “Young students and athletes don’t have to ‘give up’ things to go on a mission—only postpone them for two years.”
And he should know. Having kept himself in good physical condition during his mission by exercising during personal time (before 6:30 A.M.) and watching his weight, Lance was able on his return to slip back into his uniform and the game with ease. Within two weeks he felt at home on the field. The following season he was on the starting team at BYU. His fourth year he was honored by the Western Athletic Conference, received All-American honorable mention, and was chosen by the Pittsburgh Steelers, a top professional football team. He is now playing with the Philadelphia Eagles football team.
Lance feels he gained in intensity, concentration, and self-control. And all three felt an increased confidence upon returning to their sport.
Although some missionaries do return and do not continue in sports, it is usually due to a change in interests rather than inability. Ed, Mark, and Lance are convinced that any athlete who serves a mission will be able to regain his previous ability upon diligently applying himself.
And even if that were not the case, Lance wouldn’t have missed his mission for anything. “I would trade all of my athletic experiences for the opportunity of going on a mission,” he insists.