Gospel Story Finder

As my children were growing up, I saved their school papers and projects, letters, awards, and other items, thinking that someday they would want these memories for some future purpose. As I was going through the collection I had saved for my oldest son, I came upon a note that had been written by a 14-year-old boy to him when he was serving his mission. I will call the young man John. My son had kept the note with others he had received while in the mission field. I began to read it and found that the contents included some news of the day that John felt would be of great interest to my son, including sports scores and such.

At the conclusion of the short letter, John stated how excited he was to serve his mission in five years. Many years had passed since that message was written, mailed, and received. When I finished reading it, I had a sad feeling, because I knew what John had chosen to do with his life in the ensuing years since he had written the note. John had attended his church meetings in his youth. However, during his teenage years he used his agency to make choices that led him on paths that took him in different directions than he had once intended. He never went on that mission that he had once been so excited to experience, and serious problems have plagued his life. He is now an adult and not active in the Church, but he is close to his family. His parents find comfort in the principle of repentance and pray that someday John may seek such in his life.

I once heard a stake president, in speaking to a group of young adults such as you, state that whenever he interviewed young men or young women who were having some serious problems in their lives, he most often came to the same sad conclusion: they had forgotten the covenants they made at baptism. Had they not done so, they most likely could have avoided their present situations. John forgot the promises he made when he was eight years old. When John was baptized, he made a covenant with his Heavenly Father—as we all did when we were baptized. We promised “to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that [we] may be in” (Mosiah 18:9). It is the Lord’s desire that each of us be a witness for and possess a sure and personal testimony of Him.

If you were out for a drive in Rockledge, Florida, and happened to turn onto Faull Lane, you probably wouldn’t think twice about what you saw. Sure, the houses in the neighborhood are neat and clean looking, and the yards are well kept. But there’s nothing particularly unusual about them. Except, perhaps, for number 812.
Was that house there last week? Yesterday?
You think about it for a minute and realize that not long ago, there was nothing where that house is now standing but an empty lot. You’re almost certain that the house, complete with a fully finished yard, was nothing but a patch of dusty ground just a few weeks before. But how does a house appear out of nowhere?
Flash back to a very warm summer afternoon in Cocoa, Florida, at the Cocoa stake center. Ashley Foss, a Laurel, is giving what amounts to a pep talk to the youth from the Cocoa and Orlando South stakes.
“Remember, Florida is the Sunshine State,” she says. “It’s going to be hot tomorrow, so be ready and bring a squirt bottle!”
Ashley goes on to give other good advice for the outdoor activity they’re planning—like wearing clothes that can get dirty, drinking plenty of water, using sunscreen. Then Ashley delivers the clincher.
“It usually takes seven or eight months to build a house, and we’re going to do it in a day!”
Building a house in one day. They’ve been hearing about it for months, and the next day it will finally materialize.
Although the room is warm and the youth are perhaps a bit drowsy, there is a real change in the feeling in the room.
But you need a lot more than smiles and enthusiasm to build a house—especially when you’re doing it for youth conference. In fact, in many stakes a project like this wouldn’t be possible. But the Cocoa Stake is home to a lot of adults who are experts in construction, so with their help, the youth committee decided to give it a try. The young men and young women teamed up with Habitat for Humanity, a Christian organization dedicated to building decent housing for families who couldn’t otherwise afford it.
Sara Judd, a Laurel on the youth committee, was in charge of finding donors for materials, goods, and services to be used during the building. But where do you go when you have to find things like a crane, bottled water, T-shirts, two-way radios, sod and landscaping materials, tents, tables, chairs, and portable rest rooms? With items that diverse, there’s not exactly a place for one-stop shopping.
“Brother [Kerry] Gilger, the stake Young Men president, and I opened up the yellow pages at one of the youth committee meetings,” says Sara. “We made a list of the businesses that might be willing to donate something, and then we started making phone calls.”
Because many of the people Sara and the others on the committee worked with were members of other faiths, the project wasn’t just a good leadership and organizational skills builder; it was also a great missionary project.
“I went to all the Habitat for Humanity meetings we were required to attend as part of this project,” says Sara, who used her involvement as a Laurel project. “I learned a lot. Many of the people involved, including the family we were building for, were from different religious faiths. It was neat to work together toward the same goal.”
Although the homes built by Habitat for Humanity are simple and relatively small, construction usually takes at least a few months. But the youth committee knew that youth conference wouldn’t last longer than a few days. Their solution? Get the house done, start to finish, in one day.
“A ‘blitz build’ like this has been done before in other areas,” says Logan Newby, a priest on the youth committee. “But the people in charge of the Habitat chapter here weren’t sure that we could do it, especially with so many teenagers helping. We knew it would be great, and that everyone would really get into it, so we made a plan and presented it.”
The plan included an early start, 6:00 A.M., and a solution for every conceivable problem. For instance, most teenagers don’t know the first thing about building a house. So the youth were divided into groups and then paired with skilled laborers—people who volunteered to work for free—to oversee everything they did. There were so many teens involved that they couldn’t all work on the house at the same time, leaving them with a lot of time that wasn’t filled. No problem. The youth committee devised other projects to work on, things like putting in the yard, building a shed, and cleaning nearby vacant lots. Finally, there were countless safety issues to be addressed. That seemed to be the highest hurdle to clear.
“We thought that might be the end of this idea,” says Sara. “But the police, the Red Cross, and a local ambulance service all donated their time to help us. Once that was taken care of, we were ready to go.”
On the day of the build, more than 300 teens are up before the sun. In the darkness, the cement foundation—poured a few days earlier to give it time to cure—is barely visible. By the time the sun is shining, the cement is surrounded by studs, and the framework for the roof is being put on. Skilled laborers do the technical work, while teenagers happily sweep, nail, and paint where they are told.
By lunch, the house is starting to take shape. Housing inspectors are on hand to approve each phase of the project as it is finished. And though it’s scorching hot, smiles are seen all around.
“I think everyone really likes coming together for something like this. It makes us feel good to be here, helping a family out,” says Mia Maid Kristin Turley.
By mid-afternoon, youth are helping with finish work. One paints trim; another helps put house numbers on. One even tests the porch light to make sure it’s working. Soon, kitchen cabinets and fixtures are installed by an expert. He is cleaned up after by several broom-toting teenagers.
Later on, most everyone helps lay sod. A few people plant flowers and trees, and everyone—plants and people—gets a long drink of water.
By this time, some of the local media have come to see what all the excitement is about. Other important people in town have come to see, too. A few of them, including Rockledge Mayor, Jack Oats, even roll up their sleeves and help.
“These kids are unbelievable,” says the mayor. “With kids like this, who aren’t afraid to talk about and live what they believe in, we don’t have to worry about the future.”
Soon the building inspector comes for a last walk-through. He declares it not only up to code but one of the most soundly built houses he has ever seen.
At 6:00 P.M., just 12 hours after the project began, there is a house standing where there was just an empty lot. The youth gather in the yard and watch as the homeowner, Karol DeKlercq, is presented the keys to her new house.
“Your love will forever be a part of our lives,” she says. “For the rest of my life and as my [four] children grow and their hands touch all you have built, the prints of your love will forever be there.”
There are tears in just about everybody’s eyes as the reality of what has happened sinks in. The DeKlercq family had previously rented a house that had fallen into disrepair, and they had no hope of ever having a place of their own. They now have 1,200 square feet—three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, a living room, and an eating area—to call home.
Every time a new house is finished, representatives from Habitat for Humanity present the homeowner with a Bible to keep as a family treasure. This time, in addition to the Bible, the family also received a triple combination and a framed copy of The Family: A Proclamation to the World.
After these gifts have been given and the youth have a chance to hug or congratulate Karol, they load up into waiting vans and head for a park where a well-deserved barbecue is being prepared. After they leave, the neighborhood is still—the first time all day that the hubbub has quieted down to anything less than a dull roar.
After the dust has settled and the youth and their leaders have had a few days to rest, they’ll meet and discuss the conference. They’ll talk about things that were successful, things that could have been done differently. But by all accounts, the project was a huge hit.
“I love missionary work, and I love service,” says Laurel Kelli Baker. “What could be more fun than a youth conference project that combines both of them?”
And so when you’re taking that drive through a small neighborhood in the middle of Florida, you can be sure that your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you. Yes, that house did spring up overnight.
To be sure, the lot the house sits on is a fairly ordinary piece of land, nothing special really. Nothing special unless you consider what the helping hands of hundreds of teenagers accomplished there: they’ve given a family a place to call home.

One day, my family was driving home from the lake. I went with my Grandma Ninya. Grammy was visiting. My little cousin Tori and I were in the backseat. Tori was tired. I whispered, “You can go to sleep, baby,” and she said, “Sing me Jesus.” I asked her, “Sing Church songs?” She said yes. So I sang “I Love to See the Temple.” Then I sang “Do As I’m Doing” and “I Am a Child of God.” She fell asleep. As I sang, I felt something inside of me. I felt the Holy Ghost. I am glad my cousin knows about Jesus and honors Him.Hillary Odom, age 10Ogden, Utah

My family was driving down a residential road in France when my father thought he smelled something burning. We pulled over to the side of the road and inspected the car. We couldn’t find anything wrong with the car, but we did find something else: a wallet on the side of the road with money in it!
My initial reaction was that I would be able to buy lots of neat things. I knew, however, that we should be honest. My father drove to the police station, and we turned the wallet over to the police. I felt happy, and I know that honesty is worth any cost.

Eight years after his baptism, Luciano was called as president of the Lingayen stake. Like most Philippine Church leaders, President de Guzmán has no car, no phone, and limited money for public transportation. He does have a bicycle. And at age fifty-nine, he rides it to his meetings and assignments—up to three hours round-trip. He carries a sack lunch with him because, he says, “I don’t want to impose on members for lunch.”

Pedaling on congested Philippine highways can be dangerous. But, says President de Guzmán, “As I am working in the Lord’s service, he protects me.” One time, a bus was overtaking a jeepney, and the president—on his bicycle—was caught in the middle. “Everyone thought I was going to be killed,” he says. “But then, it was as if a great wind lifted me up and swept me out of the way of the bus. The bicycle was not destroyed, and I was not hurt. The people were surprised when they saw me alive. I was surprised, too!”

Finally, the ongoing Relief Society learning opportunities will be effective in the lives of sisters to the degree that learning and teaching are by the Spirit. Let me tell you of a sister who helped me appreciate teaching by the Spirit.
She was an older woman, one of many immigrants who had been able to come only as far as New York City on the way to Zion. She had not had great opportunity for learning and was having difficulty adjusting to a new culture. We were the only two in our department at stake leadership meeting one night.
The board member asked us each to describe how we prepared our lessons. I had been trained as a teacher and could say some things about lesson plans and objectives; but this lovely sister, haltingly, in a language newly learned, spoke of how she studied the material and then got on her knees and asked the Lord what in that lesson she should stress for the sisters of her ward, and she said, “He always directs me.” As I heard her speak and experienced the sweetness of her spirit, I felt sure that he did, because she taught me what I needed to hear. Though it has been many years since that night in Manhattan, I have never forgotten her nor her message.

On one occasion, a missionary in the final week of his mission reminded me that I had given him clearance two years previously to serve a mission. The clearance had been extended with some reservations on my part because he had indulged in a number of transgressions before his mission. He said: “Elder Asay, you allowed me to go into the field after due repentance and after I promised that I would be strictly obedient and would work diligently. I can assure you that I have worked hard and have obeyed every rule.” Then he said something very significant. “I feel that my sins have been forgiven. I feel perfectly clean.” He had been cleansed through selfless service and by developing a close association with the Holy Spirit. He had been through the refiner’s fire, and impurities had been burned away.

After having been set apart to serve in the Second Quorum of the Seventy, I, with my wife and one of our children, visited my father. We asked him to give me a blessing, something which I have always striven to do when I have received a new priesthood assignment. He laid his hands upon my head and gave me a short but grand blessing. He said, “Son, I bless you that the Holy Spirit may accompany you, your wife, and your children in everything you do.” What more could I wish for?

In general conference those long years ago, as I related this account, I mentioned that I had lost track of Mrs. Patton but that I wanted to once more answer her question “Will Arthur live again?”
And now, my brothers and sisters, I share with you the rest of this account. I delivered my message on April 6, 1969. Again, I had little or no hope that Mrs. Patton would actually hear the talk. I had no reason to think she would listen to general conference. As I have mentioned, she was not a member of the Church. And then I learned that something akin to a miracle had taken place. Having no idea whatsoever who would be speaking at conference or what subjects they might speak about, Latter-day Saint neighbors of Mrs. Terese Patton in California, where she had moved, invited her to their home to listen to a session of conference with them. She accepted their invitation and thus was listening to the very session where I directed my remarks to her personally.
During the first week of May 1969, to my astonishment and joy, I received a letter postmarked Pomona, California, and dated April 29, 1969. It was from Mrs. Terese Patton. I share with you a part of that letter:
“Dear Tommy,
“I hope you don’t mind my calling you Tommy, as I always think of you that way. I don’t know how to thank you for the comforting talk you gave.
“Arthur was 15 years old when he enlisted in the navy. He was killed one month before his 19th birthday on July 5, 1944.
“It was wonderful of you to think of us. I don’t know how to thank you for your comforting words, both when Arthur died and again in your talk. I have had many questions over the years, and you have answered them. I am now at peace concerning Arthur. … God bless and keep you always.
“Love,
“Terese Patton”15
My brothers and sisters, I do not believe it was a coincidence that I was impressed to give that particular message at the April 1969 general conference. Nor do I believe it was a coincidence that Mrs. Terese Patton was invited by neighbors to join them in their home for that particular session of conference. I am certain our Heavenly Father was mindful of her needs and wanted her to hear the comforting truths of the gospel.

Daniel Harbuck had a spark of inspiration one day. He had caught a ride home with one of the older members of his ward. And she was telling him some great stories about her life. He asked Sister Marba Zabriskie why he had never heard these stories before. She told him that the young people weren’t interested.
“Not interested!” Daniel thought to himself. “Here I was hanging on her every word, and she thought no one was interested.”
That’s when Daniel had the inspiration. Why not get the teens in his ward to spend an evening with the older members of the ward, over refreshments, and listen to their stories?
He talked with his friends and priesthood leaders, and they all liked the idea. Soon invitations were sent to 11 older members of the Monument Park 11th Ward of the Salt Lake Monument Park Stake. They all met at the meetinghouse during Mutual activity time. Two or three youth were paired with each individual. Someone was assigned to take notes. The visits turned out to be a lot of fun—for the teens and the older members. They talked about all sorts of things. And best of all, they ended up finding some new friends.

When I became a priest in the Windsor Ward, London Ontario Stake, our Young Men’s president, Brother Sandor, encouraged us to pass the sacrament and perform baptisms as a way to exercise our priesthood. In one Sunday lesson, he also taught us about giving blessings. He said, “You must be bold enough to say what the Spirit prompts you to say, but be humble enough not to make up your own words!”
Not long after that lesson, a young convert in our ward was sustained as a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood, and Brother Sandor asked me to be the “voice” in the ordination. I was scared. I had never laid my hands on anybody’s head before, and I felt so inadequate. But then the Spirit reassured me that it would be fine for me to do it, and I was reminded of what my Young Men’s president had taught us.
The young man to be ordained sat down in the chair, and I stood directly behind him. When we were all ready Brother Sandor guided me through the ordinance prayer and I repeated every word he said. After we had finished the ordination and said, “… and we wish to pronounce a blessing on your head at this time …” Brother Sandor looked at me and indicated that I was on my own.
At that point, the priesthood entirely changed its meaning for me. It was no longer just a title, but the actual authority to act in God’s name, and I was giving that authority to someone else. I paused and waited for the Spirit to whisper to me what I was to say. It is difficult for me to describe the feelings I had that day during the blessing, but I can say that I now have a stronger testimony that the power of the priesthood is real.

Thirty years ago a true story unfolded in the most remote part of New Zealand. The windswept Chatham Islands are located in the South Pacific Ocean about 500 miles east of Christchurch. A hardy and resourceful 650 people lived there, isolated in the lonely, harsh environment of those days; and a young, inexperienced, and newly qualified doctor was responsible for their medical care.
An eight-year-old boy, Shane, had sustained a serious head injury 40 miles away on the far side of the island. He was being rushed in across the swamps and along the beaches on the backseat of an old, rusty car to the four-bed cottage hospital. He was unconscious.
The young doctor was unprepared to handle such a case, with little experience and having only the most basic of surgical instruments. Shane was in a critical condition. There was obvious bleeding inside his fractured skull—and blood clotting could fatally compress his brain. The doctor had never even seen a brain operation, but he knew he had to perform the delicate surgery immediately—or watch a little boy die.
There were blood donors to be called in, blood to be cross matched, an anesthetic to be prepared. The antique X-ray machine had broken down, so no helpful X-rays could be taken.
There was the first of many phone calls to Wellington, where a neurosurgeon tried to imagine the scene and guide the nervous young doctor through the process of a very delicate surgical procedure.
Shane’s mother prayed. The doctor prayed; the nurses prayed; the doctor’s wife prayed.
Responsibilities had to be delegated in this busy scene. The policeman administered the anesthetic, a nurse became the surgical assistant, and the work began under an Anglepoise light as darkness fell.
The first surgical incision, nervously performed, did not reveal any bleeding, so other incisions needed to be performed through Shane’s small skull to find the source of the bleeding. More calls to the neurosurgeon for direction and reassurance were made, and his advice was followed in every exact detail. After six hours of anxiety and pressure, the surgery was completed, the hemorrhage of blood into the brain cavity ceased, and a successful outcome was achieved. Serenity replaced chaos. It was around midnight.
The doctor was a young father. He thought about his family and the blessings they enjoyed. He was grateful for the many tender mercies of the Lord in his life and especially for the presence of the Comforter during the last 12 hours. He was grateful for the presence of an unseen expert who imparted of His far-greater knowledge freely in his time of need.
At the critical time in a desperate situation, the Lord provided the guidance and the ability for a young, inexperienced doctor to perform a miracle and preserve the life of a small boy, who was precious before the Lord.
Neil Hutchison was the young doctor who prayed for help and had the faith to rely on the Lord and the neurosurgeon, enabling him to perform a miracle under the most difficult of conditions. He now serves as the bishop in the East Coast Bays Ward in Auckland, New Zealand.
Bishop Hutchison advised me, “I had the privilege of meeting Shane and his father a couple of years ago in Christchurch for the first time since that day in 1976. He is an electrician with his own business and is aware of no defects from his long operation. He is such a nice chap, and I can’t help pondering on how thin the veil is between this life and the next.”

But then my husband died, and my world changed. In my grief, I began to hope that maybe we would not be separated forever, that somehow we would meet again in our heavenly life.

Although my husband had not believed in God, he was well educated and intelligent. He had read the Bible and knew it very well. He was a good person and gave what he had to others. I had sometimes caught myself thinking that he was better than I.

Several months passed after my husband’s death, and I still could not find comfort. I was advised to go to church to lessen the heaviness in my heart. At a local church, I met a young minister. After telling him a little about myself, I asked him to pray for my husband. But he told me that because my husband had not believed in God and had not been baptized, he could not pray for him. I would not see my husband again, he said. I did not want to believe that, but I could not completely disbelieve it either. The minister took from me my last hope. Instead of getting better, I felt worse.

I would like to start by sharing with you part of the life history of my father and his family. My father was born in 1922. His family consisted of his father, his mother and five boys. He was the next to the youngest of the boys. When my grandmother, my father's mother, was just 23 years old, it became necessary for her to raise her four boys alone. One of the boys had passed away when he was 10 months old. My grandmother did a very good job raising her four boys; in fact, my three uncles were very kind and very nice to me. I remember so many sweet experiences that we had. They were honest and hard workers and they taught me good things. But they committed some mistakes. Let me share with you one mistake that all three of them committed. They each made the decision to not get married. They decided to not marry. My father was the only one who chose to get married. He chose to keep the law of chastity even though he was not a Church member, and to find a good lady to marry. He married my mom-a good and worthy lady.

What would have happened if my father had followed the example of his brothers in their decision to not marry? One consequence surely would have been that the name Mendes Costa, our family name, would not have continued. But because he chose to marry my mom and have children, they have two boys and two girls, our family name continues. And because my brother and I made the same decision as my father, our sons continue to carry the Mendes Costa name.

Another choice of my father was to receive the missionaries and be baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. As a consequence of his choice, all of his children and his children's children became Church members, and the following generations have been born in the covenant. In fact, he gave a good example in the year 2000 when he passed away, faithful and crossed the veil at a Sunday church meeting.

I used to think I had to fix all my weaknesses at the same time.
When I was serving as a missionary, I really struggled with this mindset. I spoke with my mission president about my feelings.
He reminded me of a truth I’ll never forget. We read Ether 12:27 together: “I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”
This scripture helped me understand that I can change. I decided to start with just one thing and give the Lord time to change my weaknesses into strengths.

But he wasn’t always so well known. Reared by his grandparents on Kuria, a small dot of land south of Tarawa, Tune didn’t come to the capital island until he was 13 or 14 years old. He had been taught traditional skills, but his grandmother felt he needed a good secondary education. So they came to Tarawa, where a few private schools, one run by a religious group, were located.
His grandmother enrolled him in the religious school. “But then just before school started,” Tune says, “I dislocated my hip playing soccer. I was admitted to the hospital on Tarawa. Unfortunately, a lady using traditional medicine tried to heal me by massaging the hip. Instead, she destroyed it. And then it got infected. I became very sick.
“When the doctors told my grandmother I might die, she called my family to Tarawa. I heard them talking to the doctors one day outside the curtain around my bed. The doctors said, ‘We don’t have any hope. This infection in his hip is very bad, and now it’s getting into the rest of his body.’
“When I heard that, I thought, ‘Wow! They think I’m going to die!’ I was raised a Christian, so I started praying. I said, ‘God, my only hope is You. If You spare my life, I promise to be a missionary. I will spend my whole life serving You.’ Of course, what I had in mind was the kind of missionary you see in the Protestant and Catholic churches. This was in 1972, before the LDS Church came to Kiribati.
“I was flat on my back in bed and couldn’t even sit up. But as I continued to pray, one day I found I could sit. After a while I could stand, then walk. I was in the hospital for two years.” Tune left with a bad limp, but he had survived.
“When I was released, for some reason I didn’t want to go to the Protestant school anymore. I wanted to go to another school called AKAS. So my grandmother enrolled me in 1974. During that year, Eb Davis, the LDS mission president in Fiji, came to our school to select 10 students to attend Liahona High School on Tonga. Attending high school is a great opportunity. Only two groups had gone before. I was older than most and had been out of school for two years, so I didn’t have much hope I would be selected. But I was.
“The big problem for my family was finding the money to purchase the required round-trip airfare. I asked my father, ‘How will you get the money? We don’t have any.’ My father had a terminal illness that left him unable to work, but he said, ‘We’ll get the money.’ My mother sewed for the hospital and had some money saved. My uncle and other relatives also helped. It seemed a miracle, but we came up with the money.
“So there I was in 1975 at Liahona High School. When I came to the campus, I thought I was in heaven. The people were clean, the school was clean, and the men were wearing ties. And then I discovered this was a church school, run by Mormons. I had no idea what a Mormon was, so I asked.
“That first Sunday I started the missionary discussions. Grant Howlett, one of my teachers, taught me. I was really excited. I had promised the Lord I would be a missionary if He healed me, and I knew I couldn’t be a missionary until I joined the Church. I was baptized on 22 June 1975—the first from our group. When my friends asked why I joined the Church so quickly, I said, ‘I couldn’t reject anything they taught. I just felt it was what my Father in Heaven wanted me to do.’
“Two months after I was baptized, the students from Kiribati were asked if anyone was interested in going home to introduce the Church there. I gave them my name. But when they learned I was 17, they told me I was too young.” Six young men accepted the call to take the gospel to Kiribati. They began in late 1975.
“Before they left, I asked them to talk to my parents. They agreed. I also sent many letters to my family bearing my testimony. They accepted the gospel and were baptized.” His grandmother, Tebwebwenikai Ribauea Tune, was the first person in the family to join.
“I finished school in 1978 and still wanted to be a missionary. By then I had also met my future wife, Maii. We decided I would serve a mission; then we would meet in Hawaii and be married in the temple. But I wasn’t sure how I was going to get to Hawaii or finance a mission.”
Tune considers what happened to him over the next few years miraculous. After graduation he stayed in Tonga translating for the Church. A family from the high school helped him go to the New Zealand temple, where he received his endowment in 1979. Within a few months he was serving a mission in Kiribati. After his mission he was able to attend BYU—Hawaii to further his education (he was the first person from Kiribati to graduate from BYU), and it was there he and Maii were married (the first couple from Kiribati to be sealed in the temple). An impression to return to Kiribati instead of accepting a job in the United States led to an encounter at the airport in Fiji with the Area President, Elder John Sonnenberg. A few days later Elder Sonnenberg called Tune to be Kiribati’s district president. President Tune’s ecclesiastic duties took him to Salt Lake City, where he had hip-replacement surgery. Limping no longer, he now outwalks most of those who attempt to keep up with him.
While serving as district president on Tarawa, Tune also filled an appointment as principal of Moroni High School, an LDS high school that resulted from the missionary work of Grant Howlett and his wife, Pat. When the Howletts came to Tarawa in 1976, the AKAS school was having financial and leadership problems. The Howletts supplied the leadership and petitioned the Church to buy the school. Eventually, the Church agreed.
Unfortunately, there was some opposition from people in the government. But the Lord had an agent in place. Baitika Toun, a member of the Church elected to parliament, helped convince several key lawmakers that a school run by the Church would be of great benefit to the I-Kiribati. The Church purchased the school and called the campus Moroni Community School (now Moroni High School).
The school has indeed proved a blessing, not only to the I-Kiribati but to the Church as well. “Moroni High School is seen as the model school in Kiribati,” Tune says. “Our graduates are skilled and have high moral values. They are sought out for responsible positions. And the Church is seen as the model church—in terms of morals, standards, and the focus on the family.”
The Church didn’t always enjoy such a reputation in Kiribati. “When it was first introduced, we were accused of being non-Christian,” Tune says. “We were even tried in parliament. But that just gave us a chance to preach the gospel to the leaders of our country. We cleared up the confusion.”
The school is now educating a new generation of Latter-day Saints who have strong testimonies and are eager to share the gospel. That is one reason the Church is growing so fast in Kiribati. Another is the gospel light that shines in the lives of Kiribati’s Latter-day Saints. “We have high standards and strong families,” Tune says. “People are attracted to that. When I started my mission, there were between 50 and 100 members of the Church in Kiribati. When I finished, we had 500. We now have close to 6,000. That’s about six percent of the population. After only 20 years, the Church had become the third largest denomination in Kiribati.” When Tune was released in 1996 after serving nine years as district president, the district was reorganized as a stake, and he was called as bishop of the Eita Ward (now the Eita First Ward).
It is now near sunset. Tarawa lies somewhere off the bow of Tune’s boat. A few terns and noddies fly past on their way to roost. Tune’s eyes follow them instinctively. The birds fly directly to land at dusk; by following them, a seafarer can always find home. Behind the birds, the sky has turned gold, tinting the sea gold as well. The light reveals a smile on Tune’s face. In the large cooler at his feet are four tuna that decided to join him during the trip home from Abaiang.
“The members here are like the seabirds,” he says. “The Great Fisherman has many fish to catch. We members are the birds showing the missionaries where those people are. And by the lives we live, we show our friends and relatives the way to eternal life.”
At the same time, the members of the Church in Kiribati are themselves among those gathered by the gospel net. If at times they soar in joyful anticipation of heaven’s joys, at other times they dive into the depths of mortal experience. Yet always there is the Light—and the leap of faith into it. At such times, for that brief moment, sea and sky become one.

My great-grandma’s candy dish doesn’t hold a lot of candy these days. Instead, it sparkles under the display lights in my grandpa’s cabinet, and the lights reflect off the grooves of the crystal in the dish. Most people save things to remind them of happy memories, but my grandpa has saved this candy dish to remind him of an important lesson.
When my grandpa was 10, his family had a rule against playing ball in the house. But he loved basketball, so one day when it was raining outside, you can guess what he decided to do. Instead of following the rules, he went into the living room to play basketball, and it quickly got him into trouble.
He threw a pass, and the basketball hit the bracket of an antique mirror, causing the mirror to fall onto a grand piano where his mom displayed her crystal collection. The mirror shattered onto the piano and broke all the crystal dishes except one single candy dish.
When his mom came to see what had happened, she sent him to his room. He felt awful; he knew she loved those dishes. His dad came to his room and they discussed a punishment. Then, his mom entered the room with a wrapped box. Inside was the surviving candy dish. His mom said, “I’m giving you this dish to remind you that I love you more than any of the dishes you broke.”
One day that candy dish will be passed down to my mom and then to me, but we could never sell it. In our family, the candy dish represents how much love a mother has for her children. Even though Great-Grandma lost nearly her entire crystal collection, she gained something even more important—a stronger relationship with her son.
Material possessions can be replaced, but families are worth a lot more than crystal. Family members are the most important people. My family, including my mom, dad, and brothers, mean more to me than anything else. I’d give up a million crystal dishes to be with my family forever.

Tonight the missionaries came for dinner. The dog barked when they rang the
doorbell.
“Stop that barking, Fifi!” my brother, Malcolm said. He opened the door, still
muttering, “Honestly, that dog thinks she’s human! I, Malcolm the Magnificent,” he
said to the elders, “welcome you to our splendid meal tonight.”
“Hello, young men. Come in out of that chilly air,” Uncle Otto said. “Pay no atten-
tion to Fifi, Elder Brown. A bark and a sniff is her way of saying hi.”
My sister, Ernestine, came in with a tray of burnt little sausages and dried-up
vegetables. “First are the appetizers!” she said proudly. The elders ate them up.
“Now, everyone,” Mom said, “please allow the elders to sit down at the table.”
“Even though I’ve seen the main course, I don’t know exactly what tonight’s
entree is. Mom likes unusual things,” Malcolm said.
“Especially when the missionaries come!” I added.
“Yes, this should be fun,” Uncle Otto said. “I think I heard a moo now and then in
the kitchen this afternoon.”
The elders laughed.
When my sister brought out the dessert, she tripped and the lime gelatin splatted
across the table.
“Look at that green goo flow, Ernestine!” Uncle Otto chuckled. “May I ask you for
that recipe?”
By the time the elders left, not a bite of food was left. Elder Gomez said, “This was
the best meal we’ve had this month so far! I very much hope that you’ll invite us
again soon.”

My husband had a lot of relatives that were in Nauvoo at that time. One of them was Zina Huntington who later became one of the general presidents of the Relief Society. She lived in upstate New York when the missionaries visited their home and left one copy of the Book of Mormon for the family to read. As a young woman, Zina held that book in her hands and said, "This is the truth, truth, truth."[15] She was converted to the gospel before she ever opened the book. She knew by the Spirit that the Book of Mormon was a true record and she made the transition from living in a beautiful two-story rock home on a farm in upstate New York, to going with the saints to Kirtland, Missouri, Nauvoo, and later traveling west. She had the confidence to leave her comfort zone, so to speak, because of her faith and testimony. As I go down Parley's Street and read those inscriptions, I weep because I feel the spirit of those men and women. I feel the sacrifices they made for us so we can be where we are now.

Zina Huntington married and while living in Nauvoo she was expecting a baby. It was in that condition that she left her home, crossed the Mississippi River, got just a little further west and had the baby on the banks of a river. The river was named Chariton. So the baby was named Chariton. I think about those kinds of things, and then I think about what we've been asked to do. And I think, "Oh, what we're doing is easy compared to them." But you know what? It's not. What we're doing now is pivotal and it's not easy. And it's not going to be easier. In fact, I think it may get harder for us. And I think that we are going to have to be very strong and firm, we're going to have to be like Zina and know-"It's the truth, truth, truth." So as we think about making transitions and moving out of our comfort zones, think about those men and women. How did they do it? What helped them make the transition? I believe it's all about having a testimony of Jesus Christ. And that if you have a testimony of Jesus Christ, and His restored Gospel, you will be able to make any of life's transitions. They had a testimony, and they had a temple. They had covenants - so they had a focus and they knew exactly where they were headed. Nothing else really mattered.

When Kieth Merrill accepted the Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature of the year for his film, The Great American Cowboy, he expressed thanks to “my mother, who taught me to believe in God; my father, who taught me to believe in myself; and my wife, who helped me do what they taught me.” Though they had never met him, Latter-day Saints throughout the world heard his speech and knew that Kieth Merrill was one of them.
Such a straightforward statement is consistent with Brother Merrill’s philosophy of really putting the gospel at the working center of his everyday life. He knows what he wants, he has decided what he will do in specific situations, and he works and prays very hard to accomplish his purposes. Kieth has confidence in himself, and yet it is a confidence built on a history of individual success.
One of his first industrial films was made for Kaiser Steel Corporation. He told the Kaiser executives that he planned to shoot part of the film in their mines, and they said, “It can’t be done.” Kieth, who claims “he wasn’t smart enough to know it couldn’t be done,” made the film anyway. Kaiser loved it, Kieth won some awards (as he has on most of his subsequent films), and he was on his way in the film business. That was five years ago.
Now he has also won an Oscar, and it is a remarkable achievement for several reasons. Kieth is young (33 when he won the award). The Great American Cowboy was his first feature-length film. And in addition, he directed and edited the entire film, and he also photographed much of the spectacular footage.
The Oscar vindicated to the motion picture industry Kieth’s peculiar way of life and his artistic integrity. When he was criticized about the cowboys in his film seeming extra clean-cut, Kieth responded, “I have every right to be as selective in my interpretation of what is life and reality as the next man does. Some filmmakers feel they have the right to portray the sordid side of life. I have the right to find the heroism in man, and to help reflect his divine origin, and to tell people we are children of God.
“I was told the film couldn’t be done. I was told that a movie with a prayer in it wouldn’t make it. ‘They’ said a movie with a patriotic flavor wouldn’t be popular. But we went into filmmaking with a determination never to compromise our principles. And it paid off, because we have proved that we were right,” Kieth said.
Kieth is very positive and idealistic by nature. He really believed that he was smart enough and resourceful enough to make a good film, and that is the way he sold the cowboy film. The backers said, “How do you know if it is going to be any good?”
“Good is not the question. It will be a good film. The question is whether or not it will make any money,” Kieth answered.
Kieth constantly holds his business life in front of a mirror to make sure that the reflection he sees fits well with his personal feelings about the gospel. Those feelings, of course, include his family. He has offices, studio space, and a small theater in the lower level of his home. When his four children want to talk to Dad or show him their latest finger paintings, he takes a few minutes to renew his friendship with them.
Even on location he is close to his family. In talking about the experience of living with his family during the filming of Cowboy, he said, “We looked like a band of gypsies with everything but the chickens hanging on the side of our truck. We needed mobility, so we modified a motor home to be both production center and living quarters. There is something almost purifying about putting everything of real importance—wife, kids, and cameras (in that order, Honey!)—in a big box with wheels and criss-crossing the heartland of America, pursuing a dream together.
“When I get involved in a project, I become totally consumed with filming, and all my filmmaking equipment and camera gear were right there in the truck. We were totally self-contained, and it was a great feeling of freedom, but only because my family was there. It gave us tremendous perspective of the real values. We have a lovely home in California, and many good friends, and a lot of nice things, but none of them really mattered in comparison.”
Kieth, who appropriately calls himself a slogan hanger, has always collected quotations that succinctly express his own concepts. “It’s amazing how a simple little quotation can change a day that didn’t start as well as it should. It works for the rest of the family too. Sometimes a single quotation can set a beautiful mood for the whole day,” he said. Several of the Merrills’ favorite quotes are permanently displayed in handmade tiles on the kitchen countertop where the children eat every day.
Like his parents before him, Kieth and his wife Dagny (“Downey”) are constantly teaching their children that they are important and that they have a Heavenly Father who loves them. Several of the countertop quotes stress this. “They can’t daily eat and play and spill their milk on the counter without bringing these ideas into their own lives,” Kieth said.
Because he knows he has a destiny here, Kieth has a strong testimony that he was helped in the production of Cowboy, and of course, he wanted it to be good for the Church.
“Being committed to the gospel means that we were praying constantly for guidance and inspiration that we could be creative and able to put this film together and still be able to represent the ideals that are important. There is no question that we were guided, influenced, and helped. I am just committed to that as a way of life,” he said.
“The way things have fallen into place is unbelievable. The exposure the Church has had as a result of the Oscar in circles where it has not otherwise been exposed is inspirational. The award gave me credibility before the world, and with that I have been able to talk very matter-of-factly about the gospel to people who wouldn’t otherwise be interested. People who wouldn’t normally give me an autograph now say, ‘But you’re so young, and you handle yourself so well, and you do all these things. How do you handle it all?’
“‘Well, it is very simple,’ I say, ‘because I was raised in a little Utah town as a Mormon. Every quality or characteristic that I have is a product of my upbringing in the Church.’ And these people really are amazed at the things we take for granted—the fact that we don’t drink, or smoke, or swear, and that we actually believe in God and aren’t afraid to talk about it, and that I would spend 30 months in a foreign country on a mission at my own expense. It is overwhelming to these people. Now remember, these people are not the ones missionaries traditionally reach; they are quite isolated either by their fame or their wealth or both. They are really intrigued and often say, ‘Tell us about yourself.’ I have had many marvelous chances to tell them about the Church.
“Of course, my wife is a great help in telling people about the Church. She has a tender, almost naive ability to be very candid with people. She even told John Wayne’s son Pat that I didn’t like his dad’s movies. She never just says, ‘We wouldn’t care for coffee, thank you.’ With Dagny it’s, ‘We don’t drink coffee; we’re Mormons.’”
Both Kieth and Dagny admit that they think big, and “make plans, and put slogans on the walls,” and that even close friends and family members sometimes humor them, while thinking that one day they will come down to what is called reality. But reality to the Merrills is their own idealistic world of excellence, with the family first and the gospel a basic part of everything they are doing.
Kieth Merrill’s life demonstrates that the gospel will work at the epicenter of your whole existence, if you will give it a chance.
“I am a Latter-day Saint, and I make sure people know this not only by the way I act but also because I am very verbal about it. I have never had anything but totally positive experiences in presenting my beliefs to others; in fact, I have found acceptance and recognition, and the gospel has become a total asset in my work,” he said.
“I confess that at times my spirit has wavered, and I would occasionally get discouraged and feel like I was on a precipice above disaster because I had pursued such a hard line with the gospel and my family, and yet there was no turning back. And when everything seemed like it was going to crumble, new horizons would open up and blossom, and it all makes me resolve more firmly to live by the basic principles I know to be true. The gospel with the family first is what really matters, and everything else you do here is just something to take up the time until we reach the celestial kingdom.”