Gospel Story Finder

My best friend was born outside in the streets. Her mother was only fourteen years old at the time. Following in her mother’s footsteps, my friend had her first child at the age of thirteen, making her mother a grandmother at age twenty-seven. She had her third child by the age of nineteen. After leaving her third boyfriend, she moved in with her mother, adding her three children to her mother’s six. My friend had the responsibility for nine children under the age of seven before she reached her twentieth birthday. As I looked at my friend’s life, I realized that I wanted something better for myself. I wanted a home and a family. I knew I had to leave the ghetto.
My grandma had taught me to pray at night before going to bed. But to whom was I praying? What was he like? Where did he come from? These were questions that couldn’t be answered. I felt as if I were in a dark and dreary world with no hope of light.
Determined to understand more about this mystery, I started attending the church to which we then belonged, because Grandma said God could be found there. But it didn’t do much good. It confused me more. They taught me about Jesus Christ and the Holy Ghost, who, I was told, belonged to and were one with God.
I visited many other churches. When we studied the Bible and the life of Christ, I felt a very different feeling.
I discovered that this feeling had something to do with Christ, the Bible, the Holy Ghost, and God, but I was still confused. I started to pray and have trust in the Lord. Still, there was something missing. Although I could have the good feeling while reading the Bible, I couldn’t have that feeling with me all the time.
One teacher told me a way to retain this feeling was by being baptized, so I was baptized. But nothing changed. All churches seemed the same, so I decided to stay home and study on my own. I found myself praying more intensely for the Lord to help me find the true path that led to him. He heard my prayers.
I met a young man, and we became friends. For the next ten months we shared our ideas and thoughts about many things, but never religion. One day I found that my friend traveled with a Bible, so I asked him if he went to church and what the name of his church was. It was some long name—The Church of Jesus Christ of something something Saints. I wasn’t the least bit interested—it sounded like just another church to me.
My friend later told me he was going to serve the Lord for two years in another country. I figured he was going to be a pastor. When he left, I began to wonder what his church was like, and I began to search for their meeting place.
I found it a few months later, but I also found something more. As I walked through the doors of the meetinghouse, I felt a feeling impossible to describe; it was joy, peace, comfort, certainty, and happiness all in one. It was like coming home. My questions had now been answered.
The members of the church welcomed me with open arms. At first, I was reluctant to accept these welcomes because it was a little too much. I wasn’t used to so many people. They welcomed me whether they knew me or not. At the end of the meeting, a calm feeling came over me, and I heard these words in my mind: “Debbie, this is the place, and these are the people you have been searching for.”
Looking back, I see that my life in the ghetto was difficult and that a person could make it harder by making wrong choices. There was little opportunity for progression. But I wanted something worth living for. When the opportunity came to leave the ghetto with part of my family, I decided this was my chance.
Many of the girls I grew up with never left the ghetto. I could not have made it without following the desires of my heart and trusting in my Father above to lead me. I was blessed with the chance to leave the ghetto, be baptized a member of this church, gain an education, and fulfill a mission. I know Heavenly Father loves us all and is mindful of our circumstances, no matter where we are. He desires above all things that we find true happiness.

In 1856, Julia and Emily Hill, sisters who had joined the Church as teenagers in England and been disowned by their family, had finally earned passage for their way to America and had almost reached their longed-for Zion. They were crossing the American plains with the Willie handcart company when they and many others were stranded on the trail by an early October storm. Sister Deborah Christensen, a great-granddaughter of Julia Hill, experienced this touching dream about them. She said:

“I could see Julia and Emily stranded in the snow on the windy summit of Rocky Ridge with the rest of the Willie handcart company. They had no heavy clothing to keep them warm. Julia was sitting in the snow, shaking. She could not carry on. Emily, who was freezing as well, knew that if she did not help Julia stand up, Julia would die. As Emily wrapped her arms around her sister to help her up, Julia began to cry—but no tears came, only soft whimpering sounds. Together they walked slowly to their handcart. Thirteen died that terrible night. Julia and Emily survived.”

Sisters, without each other, these women probably would not have lived. In addition, they helped others survive this devastating portion of the journey, including a young mother and her children. It was Emily Hill Woodmansee who later wrote the beautiful words to the song “As Sisters in Zion.” The verse “We’ll comfort the weary and strengthen the weak” takes on new meaning when you imagine her experience on the snow-packed plains.

James Henry Rollins, a refugee from the mobs in Missouri, moved his family to Nauvoo and sought the Prophet’s help: “I went with him to his store and he asked Newell K. Whitney if he had any work for me to do. He replied nothing that he knew of then, that he had sufficient help at present. Joseph said to me, ‘I have work for you’ and he took me through in the back of the store and showed me about the cords of hickory wood. He asked me if I were a good hand with the axe. I laughed and said, ‘Well, some little.’ He said the clerks here were too lazy to cut their own wood. I asked him if he had a sharp axe. He turned to Lorin Walker and said, ‘Get the axe for him. I want him to chop up this wood,’ which I did and piled it up the same day. The next day he came to the store and unbarred the outside cellar door. When the doors were opened [he] asked me if I thought I could [rearrange the supplies] and I told him I would try and see what I could do.
“He was pleased with the change I had made with the appearance of the cellar. …
“… At this time a good deal of work was being done on the Temple which the workmen received [requisitions] for their labor on the store.
“It was very much crowded for two or three days, and as I stood in the counting room door looking at the faces in the house, there were a great many very familiar with me, and they came to me as they were waiting for their pay, asked me if I could wait on them. Joseph being in the store at the time said to me, ‘Why don’t you wait on these people.’ I told him when I was ordered I would do so with pleasure. He then said, ‘go and wait on them.’ I then went to work behind the counter on the grocery side and payed off many orders this day and the next, the store being crowded constantly and at least 50 to 100 people to be waited on from morning until night and being so very close with so many present was very oppressive to us all.
“When Joseph came in, and saw us looking tired and pale, he told us to shut up the store that night and not open again for two or three days, which we did until we got rested. Then opened again for business” (“A Sketch of the Life of James Henry Rollins,” Church Archives.)

One of my missionary companions was an adult convert of the Church. She had joined the Church in her forties, and although she always had a testimony of Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon, she did not develop a habit of attending church. But over a ten year period she had faithful home and visiting teachers who came to visit. One day, while working in her garden, she found an old, weather-beaten paper in the weeds. She picked it up to see what it was and discovered a note from her visiting teachers from several months before. As she looked at the note, remembering that these faithful sisters had come to her home every month for three years, she said, "If they love me that much, I am going back to church." Come back she did. She went on a mission at age 68 where she blessed me as her companion, as well as all those that she taught. What brought about that change? Faithful visiting teachers, consistently giving service and visiting someone less active.

Several years ago, an atheist parent of a child in our school district was demanding that the words “under God” be removed from the students’ daily recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance. He was also demanding a “God-free” classroom for his daughter where there would be no mention of God or any religion. I went to the school board meeting where the issue would be discussed.
One of the speakers was a 12-year-old Latter-day Saint young man. He told the school board members his name and said, “Please don’t do this. I have one friend who is Jewish, one who is Muslim, one who is Catholic, one who is Buddhist, and me—I’m a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Some of us stand for the pledge, and some don’t. Some say, ‘under God,’ and some don’t. It’s OK. We’re all different. We all get along. Please vote this down.”
The entire room erupted into a standing ovation, and the school board voted it down—quoting a courageous 12-year-old young man.
He spoke truth. And everyone heard it clearly. In a vote that could have failed, one 12-year-old young man made the difference.

The girls enjoy going to Primary in the nearby town of Belfair. Their teachers lovingly challenge them to learn and grow in the gospel. Larisa’s teacher, Sister Crowell, helps her make fun things, like a faith plant and paper dolls from different countries. Michelle’s teacher, Sister Reynolds, challenged her class to bear their testimonies. Michelle said that one of the hardest things she’s ever done was follow Sister Reynolds up to the front of the chapel to bear her testimony, but that afterward she felt very good and was glad that she had done it.

As a child, I was influenced by a lot of people, especially by my parents and my uncles and aunts, friends, teachers, stake president, and the prophet. But if I were to pick just one person who influenced me, it would be President Spencer W. Kimball. Living in El Paso, Texas, we belonged to the Mt. Graham Stake, which was centered in Arizona. President Kimball was our stake president at that time. His wife, Camilla, was first cousin to my father, so we were related.
Whenever President Kimball came to El Paso on stake business, he stayed at our house. At that time my father was on the high council. One of the things I remember about President Kimball was how businesslike he was and how fast he worked. He typically, like my dad and many of that generation, had bread and milk for supper.
He was a marvelous man. He took a special interest in me—at least that’s the feeling I had. Later I learned that everybody felt like that. He was the first Church leader to invite me to go on a mission. He wrote to me, telling me about his mission, and that influenced me.
When I received my mission call, I traveled to Salt Lake City to enter the mission home. At that time, missionaries were set apart by General Authorities. I was set apart by Elder Spencer W. Kimball, who was then an Apostle.
He also performed the marriage and sealing of my wife and me. On several occasions when we lived in Salt Lake City and there was illness in our family, he responded to a call for a special blessing. And when we lived in the state of Washington, he took time out to visit with us there.
I remember visiting with him after he had been called as President of the Church. What a humble man he was. Here he had been called to be the prophet, yet he and his wife took the time to have a family home evening with our family and all the children.

It is claimed that the ice-cream cone was introduced at the Louisiana Purchase Exposition in St. Louis in 1904. This crispy concoction was an accidental invention of Ernest Hamwi, a Syrian immigrant, who was selling a waffle confection called zalabia at the fair. When a neighboring ice-cream stand ran out of dishes, Hamwi suggested using his waffles rolled into cones. The waffle cone with a dollop of ice cream delighted the fairgoers so much that people have been eating ice-cream cones ever since.

Annie and Gerard have always tried to teach their children the gospel in ways that would make an impression. A year after their baptism, when their two children were ages two and three, they prepared to go to the temple to be sealed as a family. In a family home evening, the parents illustrated what it means to be sealed in the temple. Holding four match sticks, representing each member of the family, they dropped them onto a table. Of course, the matches scattered. They explained that the family could be like that if death separated them. Then the matches were bound with thread and dropped again. This time they stayed together. The children were told that their sealing would be like that—nothing in the world, not even death, could ever separate them if they obeyed the commandments and worked together.
Three-year-old Christophe was very impressed with the lesson and waited impatiently for the day they would go to the temple. When the day finally arrived, two serious little children entered the sealing room with their parents. The ceremony was beautiful. But as the family was leaving the temple, a perplexed little boy, almost in tears, asked, “But Mama, when are they going to tie us together?” Another lesson on temple sealings quickly followed!

Bruce came into the kitchen, slammed his books on the table, and announced, “I don’t want to set any table, even if it is an assignment!”
The assignment to enter a table-setting contest was given by his teacher in a marriage-preparedness class, a class Bruce had liked, until now.
“I might do it if it wasn’t sissy,” he said, staring at my lace tablecloth.
“You can make it look like a man’s table,” I told him, silently wondering how.
The day the assignment was due, Bruce gathered together what seemed to fit his idea of masculine. He placed plain white stoneware on a black leather desk pad and used a black and silver desk lamp for the centerpiece. The tablecloth he used was a piece of grey flannel I had purchased for a skirt but had not sewn. The table was accented with chrome salt and pepper shakers and a black goblet. But the clincher was the black linen napkin knotted as a man’s tie.
His table, one of 1,800 entries, was titled “The Executive Lunch.” It was original because it was masculine and exciting.
Bruce worried about his “macho image” when he entered the table-setting contest, but he participated and became more aware of the beauty of a table set with care. He does squint sometimes, looking at the sterling silver he won as first prize, imagining it in the shape of tire rims.

Perhaps I can illustrate the power of the priesthood ordinances in your life by sharing with you an experience that we had several years ago when Sister Sorensen and I were serving in the Canada Halifax Mission. Sister Valerie Connors, who had been investigating the Church, had not made much progress because she was struggling with several personal issues. She was encouraged by the missionaries to contact the Mission President to see if I could help her resolve some of her concerns. She had serious conflicts with the Word of Wisdom; she was a nurse and her job often required her to work on the Sabbath day; she recently had been through a painful divorce and had a teenage son to rear. Furthermore, there were few incentives for her to join the church. There were only a handful of members of the Church in the town of Windsor, Nova Scotia, where she lived. So there were few Church resources for her. She felt her co-workers would look down on her if she were to join the church.

She and I met; we reviewed the beauties and blessings that the fullness of the Gospel provides. As we talked it became clear that she had a testimony of the truthfulness of Book of Mormon. She realized that, in fact, she had a strong testimony of the Gospel and the restoration of the Priesthood. Upon realizing this, she decided what she needed was help in acting on this knowledge. She asked for a Priesthood blessing to fortify her in her struggles against evil. After I gave her a blessing, the missionaries re-taught the discussions, and soon she was baptized. The blessings of the priesthood, including baptism, that priesthood blessing, her patriarchal blessing, and the receipt of the Holy Ghost did indeed give her strength and she was able to overcome the challenges she faced one by one. After substantial planning, she was able to reorganize some of her work schedule. She received divine grace as she attacked each of her problems, and became a strong member of the church. She has been strength to her community for over 15 years. Every year she contacts us by phone or letter. What a tremendous difference the Gospel had made in her life. It has helped her overcome her challenges. She made choices to follow the Priesthood, even in a remote corner of Canada with few other members of the church nearby. She has helped build the Church in Nova Scotia.

Three weeks ago we heard from Valerie again. She told of new experiences that had come this past year. She had recently been sealed in the temple to a widower from Bountiful, Utah, who was introduced to her by a missionary couple assigned to her ward in Nova Scotia. Embarking on a new marriage is an adventure at any time, but marrying again in middle age, to a widower with eight children takes a lot of faith. Again, she looked to the Priesthood for guidance regarding the choices she had to make at that time in her life. Her example is evidence of faithful adherence to the guidance that the Gospel provides.

Observing the clock, I fold the notes that I have prepared and place them in my inside pocket. But let me take just a moment to mention a little incident that made an impression upon me when I was a boy. This came to my mind when it was mentioned that there are with us this afternoon a large group of dedicated people who teach our youth.
It was on a summer day early in the morning. I was standing near the window. The curtains obstructed me from two little creatures out on the lawn. One was a large bird and the other a little bird, obviously just out of the nest. I saw the larger bird hop out on the lawn, then thump his feet and cock his head. He drew a big fat worm out of the lawn and came hopping back. The little bird opened its bill wide, but the big bird swallowed the worm.
Then I saw the big bird fly up into a tree. He pecked at the bark for a little while and came back with a big bug in his mouth. The little bird opened its beak wide, but the big bird swallowed the bug. There was squawking in protest.
The big bird flew away, and I didn’t see it again, but I watched the little bird. After a while, the little bird hopped out on the lawn, thumped its feet, cocked its head, and pulled a big worm out of the lawn.
God bless the good people who teach our children and our youth, I humbly pray, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Once while serving as a mission president in Kentucky, I was faced with a direct conflict on family activity and Church activity. The Kentucky Derby was soon to be held, and our family had looked forward to going for weeks. Three days before the big event, the schedule for the Lexington Stake conference was shifted one week forward, and the Saturday leadership meeting was now scheduled for Derby Day. As mission president, I was invited in a midweek phone call from the visiting general authority to be at those sessions.
In the conversation, I told the leader about my previous plan and asked him his opinion. He replied, “Sometimes we just have to choose.” And that is all he said.
What would you have done?
Church work often requires that fathers be away from home. But by setting proper priorities, planning, and delegating, a father can organize himself to be effective in church duties and to be home much more often than he would suppose.
Some fathers who spend undue amounts of time in church callings are proud of these long hours away from home and consider them a sign of dedication. Often it is dedication, but in some cases it is just a way of not going home. Some fathers feel more capable in activities away from home than they do with their families. We should examine ourselves to see if, under the guise of “dedication,” we’ve left to our wives the most important of all causes to which we should be dedicated—our families.
Some feel that if they devote many hours away from family to their church duties, the Lord will compensate by ensuring that all will be well at home. But fathers who are faithful in the Church can and sometimes do have critical problems at home, and one reason may be a lack of father-family experience.
On the other hand, a father who feels successful at home comes out of that home filled with the spirit of love. His heart has been warmed by the home fires of his own family, and he is then able to warm the hearts and souls of his brothers and sisters. A man who devotes sufficient time and energy to family activities and who likewise is dedicated to the Lord and building his Church receives the Spirit of the Lord. It is the Spirit and not endless hours at Church activities away-from-home which brings success in church work.
In my opinion, some Church planning and leadership meetings are far too long. I was once asked by a Church leader, “Are you as a leader punctual in conducting meetings?”
I said, “Yes, I always start meetings on time.”
He said, “But are you punctual?”
I answered again the same way, “We start on time.”
He asked me the same question again, and as I sat looking perplexed he said, “I know that you begin your meetings on time, but do you end them on time?” He added, “End the meeting at the appointed time and let people go home to their families. Those who neglect the appointed quitting time are as much in error as those who neglect the beginning time.”
Sometimes a father will excuse himself for not being home enough by saying, “It isn’t the quantity but the quality of time spent that matters.” There is some truth in this statement for some people, but we must not use it to soothe a conscience that tells us we are too much away from the family.
When I was called to be a mission president, I was fearful that at a most critical time in the lives of my eight children I might not have sufficient time to be a good father. I had determined that being a father was as important a call from the Lord as being a mission president. That meant that even though I would dedicate myself to the mission, I would have to double my dedication as a father.
With that in mind, one of my first important tasks was to tie a big rope to a high limb on the huge ash tree that grew in our front yard and make a swing. With the swing came instant neighborhood friends for our younger children.
A few months after our arrival, we attended a mission presidents’ seminar. Each president was asked what he felt was the best idea he had put into practice so far in his mission. When my turn came, I said, “The best thing I’ve done so far is to build a swing.” Everyone laughed. I described the swing and explained that my major goal was to be a good father and that the swing was my symbol of this priority. The leader sustained my action.
I’ve found that I allow more time for my family if I remind myself that playing with the children is church work. While I was mission president, I would often go to a beautiful amusement park with my family. I would just walk around the park with a smile on my face, holding hands with my children, eating candy.
Once in a while, the thought would enter my mind. “You’re the mission president. You’d better get back to the office.” But then I’d smile again and say to myself, “Well, I’m doing my church work here. I’m with my children and my wife. We’re having a fun day, and tonight I’ll be able to write in my journal that I did six hours of glorious church work today.” I’d eat a little more candy and let the children lead me wherever they wanted to go.
Church work with your family doesn’t mean you leave other church work undone. It merely means that you do both—and you can do both. Some days you can spend a whole day with the children. Other times it will have to be a ten-minute wrestle or one paper airplane constructed after the evening meal.
Some years ago I was serving as a bishop. At the same time I was working on a doctor’s degree at a university and working a full-time job. I was under some strain, fearing that because of my desire to succeed in so many areas I was really failing as a father.
One Sunday evening I stayed late at church to complete some work. As I walked into the chapel to turn off the lights before going home, I suddenly felt lonely. I felt that my back would not bear for another day the heavy burdens I was carrying.
I fell to my knees near the pulpit and cried to the Lord. I poured out the feelings of my soul to him and described in detail my seemingly insurmountable tasks. When I finished I remained kneeling. And then I heard the Spirit speak to me in my heart. The answer it gave me was all I needed. It said just three things: Go forward. Do your best. Love your family.
I arose a new man.
Since then, whenever specific conflicts have come up between my family and church work, I’ve remembered those words and followed the advice given me years ago in Kentucky by a great Church leader—“Sometimes you just have to choose.”
Perhaps the only mistake we really make is when we choose one way over the other all of the time.

George T. Johannesen, Sr., of the Kalamazoo Ward, Lansing Michigan Stake, tells a story of his college classmate, Pete Cavallo, who wanted nothing more than to earn his letter, even though he was barely five feet tall and weighed scarcely more than a hundred pounds. Cavallo (the name means “horse”) decided to try cross-country running.
The first year, Pete finished the race, but only long after the stadium was empty. The next year he did a little better, and by the third year he had improved enough to finish while spectators were still left in the stands. By the fourth year, people were saying, “Sure do wish those little Cavallo legs could make it this year!” But nobody thought they would.
Still, there was an aura of expectancy. All eyes were on the hill leading to the stadium, hoping to see Pete Cavallo at the front of the pack of runners as they made the final dash to the stadium. Then one of those big, long-legged runners charged into view, and a sigh of disappointment went up. Fans started leaving.
But suddenly there was little Pete driving over the hill. The stadium became pandemonium, everyone shouting, “Come on Pete! Come on, Little Horse!” The winner was forgotten as if Pete had come in first. And perhaps in a way he did, because people still remember today his example of working to do the best he could.

When I was a sophomore in high school, I often found myself seeking a quiet place at lunch. I would sit with my friends at a table, but I didn’t enjoy the chaos of the lunchroom and would sometimes retreat to an unused hallway where the noise was less deafening.
I hadn’t been doing this for long when I noticed a young man, probably a junior, who would also find an abandoned corner to eat his lunch. He was unkempt, his hair unruly, his clothes visibly secondhand. He wore thick glasses, smelled of cigarette smoke, and mumbled to himself about one thing or another. When I saw him around school, no one seemed to even notice he was there. He walked the halls with his eyes down and never said a word to anyone. He was sometimes the object of cruel pranks and generally didn’t fit in.
We were studying the Book of Mormon in seminary that year. We talked about Mosiah 18:8–9, which mentions part of our baptismal covenant. Here, Alma reminds us what we commit to as members of Christ’s Church. In verse eight it says we “are willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light.”
I was by no means the most popular girl in school, but I was no outcast either. As I saw the indifference and even revulsion that my fellow classmates showed toward this young man, the Spirit would not let me rest. I knew he needed a friend. I determined to do something about it.
One day at lunch I excused myself from my friends’ table and quietly made my way to the corner where I knew the boy would be sitting. I felt awkward and nervous as I timidly asked if I could share his corner. He didn’t speak but just looked at me and shrugged. I asked him his name, but he shyly shook his head and did not reply to any of my attempts at conversation. When lunch was over, I called out a vague, “See you around,” and I went to my class.
The next day, I again felt like I should go sit with him, so I did. This pattern went on every day at lunchtime for more than two weeks before he very quietly whispered that his name is Duane. As we sat, I would talk about anything that came to mind. He rarely responded. But as time went on, I guess my little efforts made some impression. I noticed a change in him. He seemed genuinely happy to see me at lunch. When I would see him in the halls, I would greet him with a wave or call, “Hey, Duane.” He would make eye contact and even smile occasionally.
I told my friends what I was doing, and they also began to go out of their way to say hello. This didn’t bring us any popularity, and I became the subject of many juvenile remarks as well. But I knew that what I was doing was right.
Our friendship remained casual, with Duane speaking only occasionally. He never became part of the “popular crowd” or suddenly became an outgoing guy. But I began to truly enjoy our lunches, and he did too.
Around March, I was approached by one of the school counselors. She invited me to come speak with her. In her office, I learned that Duane is an only child and that his mother had died several years earlier. His father worked three jobs, so Duane was often left alone at home late into the night. He had struggled in school for years and would sometimes do himself harm.
“I have rarely heard him say more than a sentence or two when I have met with him,” the counselor said. “He is normally extremely shy and withdrawn. But in the last few months, he has begun to actually talk a little. He mentioned that he eats lunch with a sophomore girl named Sara. He even went so far as to say that he likes the company. I just wanted to express my appreciation for what you are doing. It may seem small, but you are changing Duane’s outlook. He is happier than I have ever seen him.”
At that moment, tears came to my eyes, and I knew that Heavenly Father and His Son were pleased with what I was doing. And I knew that I was keeping my baptismal covenant. At the end of the year, I had Duane sign my yearbook. He grinned and wrote a simple, “Have a great summer. Thanks for the lunches. Duane.”
Duane did not return to school after that year, and I heard that he had moved to another city. I genuinely prayed that he would continue his progress to happiness. I have never heard more about him, but I know that Heavenly Father and the Savior are watching over him. I’m sure he found new friends.
I was changed forever by those few minutes at lunch. Since then I have tried to look for those who need comfort, especially those who normally go unnoticed. Though I am by no means a perfect example, I have felt the love of the Savior for these special brothers and sisters. I have learned that keeping our baptismal covenants can sometimes be uncomfortable, but the Spirit brings a joy that will surpass all discomfort.

The conversion of Jordan Vajda, a fine young man who had been a Catholic priest, is instructive. When he was in grade school he had Latter-day Saint friends in his class who shared with him their love of the gospel. At age 13 he found an offer from the Church for a free Book of Mormon. He sent for it, and two sister missionaries responded. They were surprised that he was only 13 and had requested the Book of Mormon. He was impressed with what they taught and what he felt, but after discussions with his family, he decided to become a priest in the Catholic Church. As he prepared to be a priest, he remained interested in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

He studied at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, California. He became acquainted with many who take the position we are not Christians, but he also associated with the students at the Latter-day Saint institute of religion at Berkeley. He decided to write a master’s thesis on why certain people maintain that we are not Christians. Two of the issues he addressed in his master’s thesis were:

1. The nature of God and our belief that God the Father and His Son Jesus Christ are the two separate individuals the Prophet Joseph beheld in the First Vision.
2. Exaltation and our belief in eternal progression—that we can progress to live with and be like God.

He compared these doctrinal issues with Pre–Nicene Creed early Christian writers and determined that there was significant support for the position of the Church of Jesus Christ. He concluded in his master’s thesis, which has since been published by the Foundation for Ancient Research and Mormon Studies:

Ironically, those who would excoriate Mormons for believing in the doctrine of exaltation actually agree with them that the early church experienced a “great apostasy” on fundamental doctrinal questions.

This was primarily an academic pursuit. He became a priest in the Dominican order and had assignments in Arizona and then at the University of Washington. There he came in contact with our missionaries.

After being taught by missionaries and praying sincerely, he received inspiration that he should resign as a Catholic priest and be baptized and confirmed into the Church of Jesus Christ. His letter of resignation expressed his love and appreciation for the Catholic Church and then stated:

But why am I doing what I am doing? To put it most simply: I have found a fuller truth and goodness and beauty in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. After years of study and reflection, I have come to believe that the LDS Church is the only true and living Church of Jesus Christ, guided and led by living apostles and prophets.

I believe that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God, called and ordained for this, the dispensation of the fullness of times. I love the Book of Mormon; I believe it to be the word of God for us in these latter days.

I can no longer deny my feelings, my heart, my conscience. I cannot deny the confirming witness of the Holy Ghost which has come after much prayer and soul-searching. At this point in my life, at this moment, as I look forward to and prepare for my convert baptism, I have found a happiness greater than I ever imagined possible.

This good man is completely active in the Church, has been to the temple, teaches the Gospel Doctrine class in his ward, and has a management position in a hospital in Seattle.

Let me share with you one small thing that has made all the difference in my life.

In my senior year of high school, my dad taught me seminary in our home. Since the topic of study that year was the Book of Mormon, my dad decided that we would read it together, verse by verse, and discuss what we learned. As we read, my dad would ask me questions that got me thinking about what we were reading, and he would explain things I didn’t understand. I still remember reading Jacob 5 and discovering for the first time the Lamanites and the Nephites among the branches that had been hidden in the nethermost parts of the vineyard.21 I remember learning about the Savior and sensing that He really did visit the Nephites and that I really could be forgiven of my sins because of His Atonement.

I trace my foundation in the scriptures to those sessions my dad and I had together. As I mentioned, I felt something as we read. And maybe more important, I noticed that my desires, motivations, and actions changed. I wanted to be better. I began to see where I was being deceived. I repented more often.

After my senior year of high school, I continued to try to read the scriptures daily. That summer and into the fall I wasn’t as consistent as I should have been, but by the end of my freshman year of college, I was reading the scriptures every day.

At about this time, President Ezra Taft Benson asked the members of the Church to read the Book of Mormon and apply what they learned daily.22 So in addition to whatever else I was reading, I read at least something from the Book of Mormon.

On my mission I learned how to really study and feast upon the scriptures. I learned to study with a question in mind. I found similar phrases and terminology in different parts of the scriptures and began to connect them in ways that enhanced my understanding of the doctrine. I slowed down so that I could ponder and pray about what I was reading. I learned to study topically and sequentially. Not only did I feel the Holy Ghost as I read, but I also started to feel joy as I searched the scriptures to find answers to my own problems and those of my investigators. Best of all, my testimony of and my desire to follow Jesus Christ increased.

After my mission I continued to feast upon the scriptures daily. Because this practice invited the Holy Ghost into my life, I was more efficient. I was guided as to how to manage my time. I had inspiration come to me about how to solve problems that were often totally unrelated to what I was studying. I received help in identifying the highest priorities for the day. As a result, I did better in school and, later, at work. It was easier to make good decisions. I prayed more and was more diligent in fulfilling my callings. Feasting upon the scriptures daily didn’t solve all my problems, but life was easier because I was in the scriptures.

One time I went on a first date with a girl in my ward. The next morning we were the only two who showed up for our ward’s temple trip. We offered to help with whatever ordinance needed the most patrons … which turned out to be sealings.
I was so nervous, but to my surprise, doing vicarious sealings with a girl less than 12 hours after our first date wasn’t nearly as awkward as I thought it would be. If anything, that experience gave me more perspective on how important each aspect of temple work is—including sealings (read more in my digital article).

Now I would like to speak of the special meaning the temple has for me. Part of this message is going to be sensitive, so I will appreciate your prayers as I give it so that I do not become too emotional.
Fourteen years ago the Lord took my wife beyond the veil. I love her with all my heart, but I have never complained because I know it was His will. I have never asked why but rather what is it that He wants me to learn from this experience. I believe that is a good way to face the unpleasant things in our lives, not complaining but thanking the Lord for the trust He places in us when He gives us the opportunity to overcome difficulties.
We had the blessing of having children. A daughter, the first child, continues to be an enormous blessing in our lives. A couple of years later a son we named Richard was born. A few years later a daughter was born. She died after living only a few minutes.
Our son, Richard, was born with a heart defect. We were told that unless that could be cured, there was little probability that he would live more than two or three years. This was so long ago that techniques now used to repair such defects were unknown. We had the blessing of having a place where doctors agreed to attempt to perform the needed surgery. The surgery had to be done while his little heart was beating.
The surgery was performed just six weeks after the birth and death of our baby daughter. When the operation finished, the principal surgeon came in and said it was a success. And we thought, “How wonderful! Our son will have a strong body, be able to run and walk and grow!” We expressed deep gratitude to the Lord. Then about 10 minutes later, the same doctor came in with an ashen face and told us, “Your son has died.” Apparently the shock of the operation was more than his little body could endure.
Later, during the night, I embraced my wife and said to her, “We do not need to worry, because our children were born in the covenant. We have the assurance that we will have them with us in the future. Now we have a reason to live extremely well. We have a son and a daughter who have qualified to go to the celestial kingdom because they died before the age of eight.” That knowledge has given us great comfort. We rejoice in the knowledge that all seven of our children are sealed to us for time and all eternity.
That trial has not been a problem for either of us because when we live righteously and have received the ordinances of the temple, everything else is in the hands of the Lord. We can do the best we can, but the final outcome is up to Him. We should never complain, when we are living worthily, about what happens in our lives.
Fourteen years ago the Lord decided it was not necessary for my wife to live any longer on the earth, and He took her to the other side of the veil. I confess that there are times when it is difficult not to be able to turn and talk to her, but I do not complain. The Lord has allowed me, at important moments in my life, to feel her influence through the veil.
What I am trying to teach is that when we keep the temple covenants we have made and when we live righteously in order to maintain the blessings promised by those ordinances, then come what may, we have no reason to worry or to feel despondent.
I know that I will have the privilege of being with that beautiful wife, whom I love with all my heart, and with those children who are with her on the other side of the veil because of the ordinances that are performed in the temple. What a blessing to have once again on the earth the sealing authority, not only for this mortal life but for the eternities. I am grateful that the Lord has restored His gospel in its fulness, including the ordinances that are required for us to be happy in the world and to live everlastingly happy lives in the hereafter.
This is the work of the Lord. Jesus Christ lives. This is His Church. I am a witness of Him and of His Atonement, which is the foundation that makes effective and lasting every ordinance performed in the temples. I so testify with every capacity I possess, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Let me relate some highlights of my own experience, in hopes that it might provide some ideas for your consideration. During my senior year as an undergraduate student, I faced the challenge of setting appropriate goals. I was a returned missionary, recently married, and earning a degree in Mathematics with a minor in Physics and Chemistry. I had thoroughly enjoyed college but had no idea what job I would like, what I might do, or where we might want to raise our family. Working through the placement office at the University of Utah, I interviewed for two jobs, both of which seemed like great options with real possibilities.
However, in spite of their appeal, I was reluctant to say yes to either job because I simply didn't feel comfortable with them. So, like our missionary consulting trusted advisors, I turned to my mother (an avid reader on every subject) and asked her what I should do. She told me about a fairly new degree called an MBA (this was 1965) and suggested I apply to Stanford University, a place she knew I'd always dreamed of going. After some research, I applied and was admitted. Off I went that fall to the MBA program, based both on trusted advice and calm feelings following much discussion and prayer with my wife.
By the end of that first year in graduate school, Margaret and I felt impressed to add a PhD to our undertakings. With the Lord's help, we were able to do so. Looking back, it is clear that I had no grand scheme in those early years but I did have some clear goals.
First, I knew who I wanted to be, and what role my family and my faith would play in my identity. These goals tended to be very long term and included having a strong marriage and a happy family; I was committed to making sure that my wife and I were full partners in every respect; I also was dedicated to serving in the Kingdom wherever and however the Lord desired. These goals related to my fundamental identity: who I was and how I viewed myself.