Gospel Story Finder

On February 4, 1846, the Latter-day Saints began leaving Nauvoo. They had planned to leave in April, but threats from the mobs forced their early departure. Loading their wagons onto the ferry, they crossed the Mississippi River, leaving their homes behind—again! Traveling west about nine miles, they made camp at Sugar Creek, Iowa.
The first days of February were mild, but snow fell on the fourteenth, and on the nineteenth a storm dropped eight inches (20 cm) of it. Brigham Young had instructed the Saints to bring a year’s supply of food as well as shelter and other supplies, but many left Nauvoo without the necessary provisions. Many had no tents, and others had unfinished tents that did little to protect them from the cold. After the snowstorms, the temperatures dropped and the Mississippi River froze. This was a blessing for those who were waiting for the ferry, because they could cross on the ice, but it was a trial for those in Sugar Creek. Many fell ill, and several babies were born in the damp and cold.
The main body of Saints waited in Sugar Creek until March 1. During this time additional wagons joined them daily, and Brigham Young organized the Camp of Israel into groups of hundreds, fifties, and tens, with leaders appointed over each group.

It is often difficult to know what the most important things are. We are blessed to raise our children in a time when the gospel has been restored and when God has called prophets to help us with decision making. I am grateful for the direction given us by President Ezra Taft Benson. In preparing for this talk,I have studied again his counsel regarding the ways that mothers can bless the lives of their children. I would like to share my experience in implementing one of his suggestions.
President Benson counseled us, as have other prophets, to read the scriptures as a family each day. For the past several years, our family has been trying to do that. Last year, however, I noticed a problem developing. Our children practice musical instruments, and I encourage them to do this in the morning when there are fewer distractions. But sometimes they would go to bed late and get up late. On those days they would not have enough time to finish practicing, dress, eat, and read the scriptures before going out the door. The activity usually slighted was scripture study. Sometimes we would read a verse or two, and sometimes we’d say we’d get to it after school, but our efforts were inconsistent. This year I realized that my priorities were wrong. It occurred to me that I might be conveying to the children that the study of music was more important than the study of the gospel. I decided that on those mornings when time was short, we would study the scriptures and postpone music practice. I want to bear you my testimony that I have felt a great peace as we have followed the counsel of the prophet in this matter.

On the last evening of camp, everyone gets together for a testimony meeting. It’s the night that most girls look forward to. One young girl who had just moved to the area stood and with tears in her eyes said she had been very lonely because she was the only one in her family that went to church. Before coming to camp, she worried about being accepted, but she found people who comforted her and understood. Another girl told of her struggle to know for herself if the Church was true. The warmth and caring expressed to her at camp helped her in her search. Many were touched by the concern shown them by a leader or friend. It was a time for sharing feelings of love.

Many teens in the South run to Florida beaches for spring break, but cousins Marty Craig, an elder in the Newnan Ward, Jonesboro Georgia Stake, and John ‘Mac’ Williams, a recent convert and priest in the Woodstock Ward, East Marietta Georgia Stake, headed to Honduras.
And it wasn’t for fun and games. They worked hard to help finish a dam for an 11-acre reservoir to power a generator for a boys’ school. Not only that, but they helped collect shirts, hats, candy, and machinery in Georgia to take down to the school. Oh, and of course they milked cows, helped build a new building, and shoveled and bagged rice. The school, “El Sembrador,” is almost self-sufficient now.
They also brought four copies of the Book of Mormon with them and personally presented them to some of the young men at the school. Marty is now continuing his missionary work full-time in the Dominican Republic. Mac will follow him into the mission field as soon as he graduates.

A. J. Schumann, 17, spent six hours helping his dad and neighbors clear a 30-yard firebreak in an effort to save his and other houses. “It’s amazing to see how people rally together in a crisis,” he says. “Ward members, whose homes were not in danger, came to help us. After we evacuated, somehow two of our friends made their way back and hosed down our burning fences. All eight houses survived, but I’ve learned people matter more than things.”

My missionary companion and I were eating a quick dinner at a member’s house one Sunday evening in December when we heard a knock on the door. There were the youth from the branch singing. We were serving in the Joliet Illinois Second (Spanish) Branch. It was nice to see the youth serving and to hear them singing familiar Christmas carols.
Later that evening we were visiting with one of our investigator families when we heard a knock on the door. To our surprise, there stood the same group of youth singing Christmas carols for our investigators.
I was impressed that they would think not only to visit people they knew from the branch, but also to visit the people the missionaries were teaching. I thought it was a wonderful way for the youth to get involved in missionary work.
Our investigators were impressed for a very different reason, however. After the youth left, they told us how amazed they were that a group of teenagers would give up their Sunday evening to bring others some Christmas cheer. They commented on how many youth today seem selfish and would not do such a thing but that the youth in our Church were different. They wanted their children to be like these young men and women.
Soon after Christmas this wonderful family decided to be baptized, and I know one of the influences on their decision to join the Church was the members’ testimonies and examples. They could also see the light in the members’ faces. I know they saw it that night when those youth gave of their time to spread the spirit of Christmas.

When I was in the National Football League, I looked up to Gifford Nielsen, who had also played for BYU before going on to the NFL, eventually becoming a sportscaster and later a General Authority Seventy. I ran into him one day on a golf course, and he gave me advice that changed the course of my professional career.
We were sitting in a golf cart, just me and him, and after I told him about my plan to go into television like he had after I finished playing football, he gave me advice to not continue pursuing a career that would require me to be at the games on Sundays. That way, I’d always be able to have a calling on Sundays and serve in the Church.
It was that simple, but it was advice that I hadn’t thought about. And that changed the course of my life.

Illustration by Steven Keele
Envy is a strong word. When people talked about being “envious,” I knew it would never describe me. So when I listened to Elder Jeffrey R. Holland’s talk “The Laborers in the Vineyard” in the April 2012 general conference, I didn’t really think he was talking to me. I tried to think of things I would occasionally be jealous of—someone’s dress, my friend’s bag, or my sister’s good grade. Yet all of these things came and went quickly; I never thought I dwelled on jealousy.
But as I went back and read Elder Holland’s words, his paraphrasing of a line from a parable stuck out to me: “Why should you be jealous because I choose to be kind?” (Ensign, May 2012, 31). Now, this was a different type of jealousy—not about material things but about someone’s choices. I began to think of the many times I may have been envious of my siblings, and then it clicked: this is exactly what I have been struggling with.
My little sister Mary is about to move out and start her first year in college, so I was talking to my dad about where she would work this summer. I knew he most likely had three jobs lined up for her like he had for me, because when I graduated from high school he made it very clear that if I planned on going to college, I would need a summer job. This was stressed so much that I even started a job the day of my graduation. I worked hard all summer and earned the money to pay my way through school. So naturally, when I was talking to my dad about Mary’s summer before college, I expected to hear the same story.
To my surprise, my dad explained that Mary would just be working at her part-time job until June and then take the summer off before school. Immediately several thoughts came to mind: “What about paying for school by yourself? How is she going to afford tuition? And what about paying for that nice apartment she’s decided to move into?” This just wasn’t fair.
I don’t know why it bothered me so much, but I let it continue to affect me. That is, until I reread Elder Holland’s conference talk. I read the question: “Why should you be jealous because I choose to be kind?” This time I changed it to fit my situation and asked myself: “Why should I be jealous that my parents are being kind to my sister?” Still a little upset, I then thought, “Well, why didn’t they show that kindness to me?”
I sat there pondering my emotions and then read through Elder Holland’s words again. This time I realized what I was missing: I had been looking for everything to be fair. In my eyes, the same thing that worked for me was obviously the right choice for the rest of my siblings. But Mary isn’t me. Mary is much more of a homebody than I am, and I started realizing how the transition to college might be tougher on her than it was for me. Maybe having a few months just to spend with my family is something she needs.
I suddenly felt embarrassed about my envious thoughts. Elder Holland compared envy with “downing another quart of pickle juice every time anyone around you has a happy moment” (Ensign, May 2012, 32), and that is not how I want to be.
I am so grateful for general conference and the inspired messages that are shared. I know that if we open our hearts to the messages of the living prophets and prayerfully search through their words several times, we will find what God wants us to hear at this time in our lives.

By the time Kim arrived at his early-morning seminary class, the students had already started singing the opening song, and he knew he was late. He walked in as quietly as possible, trying not to be noticed—not an easy thing to do in a class of 11.
He sat down and joined the others in singing “Onward, Christian Soldiers.” The class sang the song often—very often, in fact. Jessica was the pianist, and “Onward, Christian Soldiers” was one of only two or three hymns she knew how to play.
Scott, who sat next to Kim, caught Kim’s attention during the song and motioned toward Cindee, who was sitting behind them. His gesture drew an angry glance from Brother Barker, the teacher. Neither boy noticed the glare, however, and each turned and stared at Cindee.
Cindee wasn’t the prettiest girl that Scott and Kim knew, but she wasn’t the ugliest, either. She didn’t realize that she sang off key, but Scott and Kim knew. Each shot a knowing look at the other, and then they snickered.
After the prayer and the thought, Brother Barker began a lesson on service.
Kim’s mind began to wander. He looked at his watch and thought about the math test he would have in fourth period. Then he looked up at the poster Brother Barker had displayed prominently in the front of the room:
Painting PartySaturday 8:30Bring a Brush, a Friend,and Old Clothes
Oh yeah, he remembered. Brother Barker had asked the class to help paint a widow’s house.
The discussion about service was over, and Brother Barker concluded the class by talking about the morning’s opening song.
“You know, we sing ‘Onward, Christian Solders’ a lot in this class, and I think that’s good. The song relates to each of us here—as well as to service. I’d like you to think about how it does and about what a Christian soldier is. We’ll discuss it tomorrow.”
During Brother Barker’s discussion of the song the next day, he read slowly through each verse. Before he read the third verse, he asked the students to pay particular attention and to think what it meant to them:
Like a mighty army moves the Church of God;
Brothers, we are treading where the Saints have trod.
We are not divided; all one body we:
One in hope and doctrine, one in charity.
“You see, we are the Christian soldiers,” he said. “Each of us is important, because we each serve individually as soldiers. But when we are united in our service, when we serve together as a class or as members of the Church, all of our individual efforts are added together and we become, truly, a mighty army working together for the good of others.”
Brother Barker then reminded everyone to come to the painting party and to be united in their service on that day.
The four cars in the church parking lot Saturday morning were enough to grant Brother Barker an overwhelming feeling of success. The vehicles had brought ten of his eleven students and, with them, an exuberant fireball of raw energy waiting to be bridled. The missing student was Cindee, who had left a message with Brother Barker that she was sorry, but she wouldn’t be able to come.
The group said an opening prayer and then drove to an older house, where they gathered on the front lawn and listened to their instructions.
It was a productive morning. There was little wind, and the smell of fresh paint soon filled the air. Gradually the house—once a dirty gray—brightened into a fresh pale yellow.
“How did you do on your test yesterday?” Lynette asked Sue.
“Really well, I think,” she responded. “Most of the questions seemed pretty easy. How about you?”
“I think I did okay, too.”
Their conversation persisted while they worked, floating like driftwood from one topic to the next. It finally landed on the subject of Cindee.
“Hey, where is she, anyway? How come she didn’t come today?” Sue wondered.
“I don’t know; she never comes to things like this,” Lynette answered.
“I think it’s because she’s weird,” Kim piped in. He had been working his way toward Lynette and Sue and had overheard the conversation.
Lynette came to Cindee’s defense. “Oh, come off it, Kim,” she said. “You guys are always so rude to her. I wish you would just grow up.”
Kim yelled to Scott and Jared, who were also still painting. “Hey, Lynette thinks we should grow up. What do you guys think?”
“Yeah, I say we should,” Scott replied, grinning mischievously.
“Me, too,” Jared chimed in.
“There. See how easy that was?” Kim said to the girls. “Actually, I do know where Cindee is—right this minute.”
“Where?” Sue and Lynette both wanted to know.
“She started taking singing lessons today,” Kim joked. He then mimicked an out-of-tune scale, which seemed to trigger the next round of revelry. Several of the group spontaneously began singing, “Onward, Christian Soldiers”—off key.
It was too much for Brother Barker, who had been listening to the last few minutes of the conversation. He came flying around the house still holding a dripping yellow paintbrush. “You come down off those ladders right now,” he called firmly, wielding the brush as if it were a deadly weapon. His students descended quickly, looking sheepish.
Brother Barker singled out Kim, Scott, and Jared. “You three have been hard on Cindee for long enough,” he said with authority. “Do you have any idea how she feels? I want each of you to do something for her or talk to her to find out what she thinks and how she feels—and I’d like each of you to do it by next Friday. Okay?” The teacher gave each of the students a piercing look, pressuring them to respond.
“Okay,” each one said. Kim was the last one to agree.
The rest of the painting party proceeded without incident.
Kim watched the calendar each day, counting the days until his deadline. He knew in his heart that he should follow Brother Barker’s counsel and find a way to apologize to Cindee, but when he tried to picture himself actually doing or saying something, he realized that he just didn’t want to.
And then it was Thursday. Kim had made up his mind that this would be the day. But it was too late.
“Did you ever see Cindee?” Brother Barker asked Kim after the other students had left class.
“Not yet. I’m going to see her today.”
“That might be a little difficult. I got a call from Cindee’s mother last night. Cindee’s grandfather died yesterday, in Baltimore. Cindee and her mother have gone there to stay with her grandmother and to help prepare for the funeral. Since next week is the last full week of school, she told me that Cindee won’t be back.”
Kim felt a sudden wave of guilt for his procrastination. At the same time, though, he felt relief—like he’d been let off the hook.
“Oh, you might be interested in something else she said, too,” Brother Barker went on. “Cindee was in Baltimore on Saturday, reading to her grandfather and keeping him company. Apparently he’d been sick for quite a while, and Cindee’s been visiting him whenever she could. That’s why she couldn’t paint with us—and why she’s missed a lot of our activities.”
Brother Barker let that sink in before he continued. “In her own way, Cindee’s been serving right along with us—maybe even a little ahead of us. We just haven’t known, that’s all.”
Kim left Brother Barker’s class wishing he’d said something to Cindee—but not badly enough to do anything about it.
The following Monday was Memorial Day. Ever since Kim could remember, his family had gone to Arlington National Cemetery on Memorial Day to lay flowers on the grave of his grandfather, who had been killed in World War II. Kim knew that his parents would want to go again this year, but this time he didn’t want to go with them. He had other things he’d rather do, and besides, he didn’t see the purpose of laying a bunch of dumb flowers by a tombstone.
Early Monday morning, Kim’s family rose and prepared for the short drive to Arlington. As soon as the flowers were on the grave, Kim suggested that the family leave for home, but his father wanted first to see the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Kim went along grudgingly.
When they got to the tomb, Kim looked at the uniformed marine ceremoniously guarding the graves of the unknown soldiers buried there. Then he read the inscription on the tomb: “Here rests in honored glory an American soldier known but to God.”
Something about the setting touched Kim, but he wasn’t sure just what. He stood silently for a minute and watched the lone sentry parading slowly and deliberately from one end of the black walkway to the other. The guard stopped at each turn, then began the careful journey back. Everything about him seemed perfect: the spotless uniform, the polished black boots, the smooth cadence of his march. It seemed that the soldier felt no emotions, except that somber look on his face and the reverent spirit reminded Kim of something he had seen when he was ten.
He had had two dogs, Runner and Tank. One day Runner was hit by a car on a seldom-used dirt road and killed. Kim was devastated. Tank was too, apparently; he stood guarding the spot where Runner had died from then until Kim’s dad finally brought him home in the family truck two days later. It was Tank’s only way of mourning a lost friend.
Kim looked up again at the guard, and he thought he understood. This unknown soldier seemed to symbolize a part of the guard which had somehow been lost. His march was a respectful way of saying good-bye to that part of him—a lost friend—“known but to God.”
Kim didn’t talk as the family drove home from the cemetery. All he could think about were the endless rows of tombstones he had seen there, many marking the grave of someone who had died in battle.
Those who died in battle didn’t want to die anymore than I would, he realized. They had hopes and dreams and a family, just like me. How sad that they had to die so soon in their lives.
And then Kim thought about the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.
But if it’s that sad for them all to have died, he thought, what about those who fought and died but who couldn’t even be identified so that their families could experience at least some peace?
Kim was quiet the rest of the way home.
That night he lay awake, still unsettled. Several times he tried to picture himself as a soldier; it made him feel vulnerable. They were afraid, too, he realized. Just like I would be.
Something made him think about Brother Barker’s lesson on service.
“We should put ourselves in someone else’s place and think what we would want if we were in their situation,” he had said.
What would I want if I were one of those soldiers? he wondered. Or what if I were an unknown soldier? What would I want then?
He thought for several minutes before he found his answer: I’d want others to understand what I did.
As if on cue, “Onward, Christian Soldiers” began playing in his mind, and he immediately visualized his seminary class. The melody of the song changed, when it reached the chorus, as if someone were singing off key. Kim then saw himself turning, with Scott, to make faces at the girl sitting behind them—Cindee.
He winced a little as he remembered some of the things he and Scott had said about her before she left. He wondered whether she might have been more involved if not for them.
Then it hit him.
He hadn’t even known about what she was doing for her grandfather. Not only was she a Christian soldier but she was an unknown Christian soldier—her many acts of service were known “but to God.”
Kim felt a chill go through his spine. What was it he had thought about unknown soldiers just minutes earlier?
I’d want others to understand what I did, he had thought. Maybe that’s what Cindee had wanted, too.
Kim slept poorly that night.
Brother Barker was surprised by Kim’s request the next morning.
“You want to know how you can reach Cindee now?” he asked his student.
“Uh, yes, that’s right,” Kim replied. “Do you know how I can reach her at her grandmother’s place?”
“No, although I think I could find out, but—”
“Could you please? I’d like to apologize to her,” Kim concluded.
Brother Barker carefully studied Kim’s face for a few seconds, then made a few calls. He finally got Cindee’s number.
“You can call her from here if you’d like,” he said, motioning toward the phone with his head.
When the phone call that morning was for her, Cindee answered it, wondering who it could be.

Cristina watched President Thomas S. Monson on the screen in her stake center during general conference. He was talking about being kind to others. Cristina had a warm feeling as she listened. She knew President Monson was a prophet of God. She thought about Leah, a girl at school who was unkind to her. She decided she would be nice to Leah and try to be her friend. Cristina wanted to follow the prophet’s teachings.

The Knaupps later lived in Oregon. Then last year, after we heard that Wendy had cancer, we were blessed to discover them visiting in Utah during general conference. Wendy’s husband, their returned missionary son, and I gave her a blessing. We shared our experiences from the past four decades. It was clear that the gospel meant absolutely everything to them. It was the center and purpose of their lives and their children’s lives. Paul and Wendy fervently wanted to be healthy so they could fulfill their dream of serving a mission together.
Not long before she died, Wendy wrote to me in a letter, “I really feel that I am in the arms of the Lord. He can do anything He wants, and I am in His care.” She expressed gratitude for the gospel and her family, then wrote, “Isn’t the Lord wonderful!”
Now Wendy is gone, and her family misses her terribly. When her son wrote us about her death, he said, “Thank you for bringing Mom into the light of the gospel. She has lived in obedience to the commandments.” He said his mother once wrote to him, “I love the Lord and am eternally grateful [to Him] for bringing the priceless gospel into my life. I want to prove faithful more than anything else and am really trying to do so.”

One woman tells the story of a tragedy she experienced when five of her close family members from another state were killed in a fiery automobile accident. She herself was struggling to absorb the news, trying to pack for her own little family to leave the following day for the funeral. A good friend and neighbor arrived at her door with the announcement that he had come to clean their shoes. She had not even thought about shoes.

He knelt on their kitchen floor with a pan of soapy water, a sponge, shoe polish, and a brush and soon had everyday shoes and Sunday shoes gleaming and spotless. He quietly slipped away when he finished, leaving the shoes ready to pack; even the soles were washed.

The mother says, “Now whenever I hear of an acquaintance who has lost a loved one, I no longer call with the vague offer, ‘If there’s anything I can do …’ Now I try to think of one specific task that suits that person’s need—such as washing the family car, taking the dog to the boarding kennel, or house-sitting during the funeral. And if the person says to me, ‘How did you know I needed that done?’ I reply, ‘It’s because a man once cleaned my shoes.’” (Madge Harrah, “I’ve Come to Clean Your Shoes,” Reader’s Digest, Dec. 1983, pp. 21–24.)

Many years ago, as a bishop in a large and diverse ward of over a thousand members located in downtown Salt Lake City, I faced numerous challenges.

One Sunday afternoon I received a phone call from the proprietor of a drugstore located within our ward boundaries. He indicated that earlier that morning, a young boy had come into his store and had purchased an ice-cream sundae from the soda fountain. He had paid for the purchase with money he took from an envelope, and then when he left, he had forgotten the envelope. When the proprietor had a chance to examine it, he found that it was a fast-offering envelope with the name and telephone number of our ward printed on it. As he described to me the boy who had been in his store, I immediately identified the individual—a young deacon from our ward who came from a less-active family.

My first reaction was one of shock and disappointment to think that any of our deacons would take fast-offering funds intended for those in need and would go to a store on a Sunday and buy a treat with the money. I determined to visit the boy that afternoon in order to teach him about the sacred funds of the Church and his duty as a deacon to gather and to protect those funds.

As I drove to the home, I offered a silent prayer for direction in what I should say to compose the situation. I arrived and knocked on the door. It was opened by the boy’s mother, and I was invited into the living room. Although the room was barely lighted, I could see how small and run-down it was. The few pieces of furniture were threadbare. The mother herself looked worn out.

My indignation at her son’s actions that morning disappeared from my thoughts as I realized that here was a family in real need. I felt impressed to ask the mother if there was any food in the house. Tearfully she admitted that there was none. She told me that her husband had been out of work for some time and that they were in desperate need not only of food but also of money with which to pay the rent so that they wouldn’t be evicted from the tiny house.

I never did bring up the matter of the fast-offering donations, for I realized that the boy had most likely been desperately hungry when he stopped at the drugstore. Rather, I immediately arranged for assistance for the family, that they might have food to eat and a roof over their heads. In addition, with the help of the priesthood leaders in the ward, we were able to arrange employment for the husband so that he could provide for his family in the future.

My little brother John was having trouble in school. He refused to listen to his teacher, was forever talking, and would not perform well in his schoolwork. Trying to force my brother to do his homework at home was also useless; he could not seem to remember how to do it. We were becoming exasperated, and John was becoming obnoxious. But then my mother talked to the counselor in the elementary school and learned that John had the potential to be a very quick learner but that he was lazy. In a family council we decided to expect John to be his best—the Dulcinea principle. When I helped John with his homework and he would say, “I can’t remember,” I would respond with, “Yes, I’m sure you can.”
At first, he responded with, “No, I can’t” and “I’m not going to do this anymore.” But eventually John began to remember and caught up with his class. Reminding John that he was too old to throw temper tantrums didn’t stop them, but ignoring them because they were beneath his dignity soon did. Now, two years later, John still isn’t convinced he’s very smart; but his schoolwork compares well with his classmates, and he is much easier to live with. We are still helping him to build a good self-image.

Carla Santivañez Castro of the Lima Perú Surco Stake writes: “I remember one family home evening in particular. We four children were very attentive to the lesson Papa shared with us. We participated in wonderful games. We not only had a lot of fun, but we learned about the Savior. The thing I remember most about that night was seeing my parents so happy as they enjoyed this time with us, their children. Many times I have remembered the joyful feelings of that night.
“Now my beloved husband and I have the opportunity to hold our own family home evenings and experience the joy I saw in my parents. My hope is that someday our children will feel the same love, warmth, security, and safety in our family home evenings that I felt that night so long ago.”

Although Grant Heaton, president of the newly opened Southern Far East Mission, was merely looking for advice about teakwood furniture that August day in 1955, he found much more than that in Ng Kat Hing. He found a language teacher, a convert, a missionary, a Church leader—a true pioneer.
Reaching out to people has always been one of Brother Ng’s talents. In fact, it was his willingness to serve others that put him in even closer contact with the missionaries. After ordering furniture for the mission home, Brother Ng agreed to help President Heaton find someone to teach Cantonese to the missionaries. He talked to several friends, but none of them could help. So he quit his job at the furniture store and taught the missionaries himself. Married and the father of four young children, Brother Ng took a cut in salary with the job change. But he believes it was well worth it.
“I learned the truth,” Brother Ng states simply. “That was a good deal, right? Nothing is more important than that.”
The men took turns learning and teaching. Brother Ng presented basic language lessons, and the missionaries taught gospel discussions. At that time, investigators were taught a total of 18 discussions, so Brother Ng went through several sets of missionaries before hearing all the lessons.
“It took quite a while,” he acknowledges, “but by the time I was baptized, all my questions were answered. I had a strong foundation and a strong testimony.”
Brother Ng was baptized on 31 May 1956. He was one of the first converts after missionary work resumed in Hong Kong following the Korean War.

If you don’t like the thought of graduating from school as the only member of the Church in your class, you can always do what Tammy Shick of the Ridgeway Branch, Pennsylvania Pittsburgh Mission, did. She helped convert two of her classmates.
But her missionary work didn’t stop there. She gave a class presentation on the Book of Mormon and presented a copy of the book to her non-LDS teacher. She also wrote a class research paper on Church history.

Many years ago Elder Widtsoe told the story of his mother, Anna Karine Gaarden Widtsoe, who, one hundred years ago was caught up in the “gospel net.” Elder Widtsoe’s prologue is as follows:
“This is the story of a woman, a seeker after truth, who, tossed by the waves of mysterious fate, was caught by the Gospel net, and carried into a far country, where, through the possession of eternal truth, though amidst much adversity, she and her family found unbounded happiness.” (In the Gospel Net, Independence, Mo: Zion’s Printing and Publishing Co., 1941, Prologue.)
The beautiful story concerning his mother, who came from an obscure island off Norway, has been repeated thousands of times in the lives of the Latter-day Saints. These experiences are the foundation of the faith of every member of the Church. As I make reference to some of the influences that have drawn us into the gospel net, I hope that every Latter-day Saint will reflect on the spiritual power which has brought us to the gospel.
Elder Widtsoe’s mother responded to the words of a humble shoemaker who had placed some tracts in her child’s shoes. Speaking to her with some hesitation as she was leaving his shop, he said, “You may be surprised to hear me say that I can give you something of more value than soles for your child’s shoes.”
She responded, “What can you, a shoemaker, give me better than soles for my son’s shoes?”
He answered, “If you will but listen, I can teach you the Lord’s true plan of salvation for His children. I can teach you how to find happiness in this life and to prepare for eternal joy in the life to come. I can tell you whence you came, why you are upon the earth, and where you will go after death. I can teach you as you have never known it before, the love of God for his children on earth.” (In the Gospel Net, pp. 54–55.)
The deep and powerful influence which has reached out across time and space, often into far and hidden corners of the earth, has the effect to snatch people from their normal life patterns and bring them to Zion.
Since the Church was organized in 1830, the gospel net has encircled and drawn together many millions of people who, either through their own personal experience, or through receiving the teachings of their parents and grandparents, have found the way to eternal life.
This means that for those who receive the message, the confusion of ages about how to come to Christ has ended. The answers are at hand to the great questions, such as:
What is the meaning of human life on earth?
Is there revelation from heaven?
Where are the Apostles and prophets?
What about those who never heard of Christ?
Which of the many churches is authorized by God?
Who has authority to administer the gospel?
How can I know what God wants me to do?
There is only one way these questions could ever be answered. God would have to tell us. To do so he has called a latter-day prophet. He has sent heavenly messengers to confer the true priesthood and authority. He has revealed the Book of Mormon to support the witness of the Bible that Jesus is Christ. He has reestablished the ordinances and restored the everlasting covenant. The sure way to eternal life is again in place.
My own membership in the Church is in response to this powerful influence. My own grandparents in Switzerland were also led by the Spirit in the midst of ridicule and persecution to find the path by which they could rear their children with the sure knowledge of divine truth.
My mother’s grandparents were among the first in England to respond to the teachings of Heber C. Kimball and Willard Richards in 1837.
They vibrated to the thrilling news that the kingdom of God had been brought back to the earth.
The human soul, to be spiritually alive, requires a vision, a yearning, a longing, a desire. The spirit of America reaches out to that longing: the great vision of liberty, the spirit of freedom, the land of opportunity and hope.
Sister Bangerter and I recently stood at the feet of the Statue of Liberty in New York harbor with President and Sister McGregor of Caldwell, New Jersey. They pointed out Ellis Island as the entry point into this land for hundreds of thousands of immigrants, including my grandparents and also Elder Widtsoe and his mother. We read again the inspiring words of Emma Lazarus announcing the beacon to wandering souls. Referring to the ancient statue on the Greek island of Rhodes, she speaks of “The New Colossus”:
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land:
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome: her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your stored pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost, to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!
Then President McGregor coupled this feeling to the words of Lehi:
“Wherefore, this land is consecrated unto him whom he shall bring. And if it so be that they shall serve him according to the commandments which he hath given, it shall be a land of liberty unto them; wherefore, they shall never be brought down into captivity; … but unto the righteous it shall be blessed forever.” (2 Ne. 1:7.)
The yearning of ancient Israel was to Jerusalem. During their captivity, the soul of the people was expressed in the 137th Psalm:
“By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion. …
“For they that carried us away captive required of us a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion.
“How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?
“If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.
“If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy.” (Ps. 137:1, 3–6.)
All of us should reflect on what we have joined and what power has captured our faith. Hundreds of thousands living today have in their own lifetime personally found the pearl of great price. They are the grandparents of the future whose names will be blessed by their posterity.
For forty-five years I have had close association with the land of Brazil. Many tens of thousands have joined the Church in that country. I had great joy yesterday in hearing of the call of Elder Helio da Rocha Camargo, our companion and fellow member of the Church. Brother Camargo and his wife were stalwart, faithful people before they joined the Church. They had been brought up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. Brother Camargo was a graduate of the military academy of Brazil. Later, still a young man, he became a Methodist minister. He told me something of his experience with the “gospel net.” One evening two young men called at his home. He said that the first thing he noticed was the huge feet of one of the young men. He looked upward from the feet until he found the face of the tallest North American he had ever met. He was not at first impressed with the beauty of either the feet or the face. However, he invited the young men in, and in the process of their presentation they left him a copy of the Book of Mormon.
On a subsequent visit they inquired if he had read the book. He explained that he had read considerable, making notes of the things with which he did not agree. The elder then suggested that it was not in keeping with a book of scripture to read it to see what was wrong with it, but that it should be read as Moroni says, “with a sincere heart” and “real intent,” having “faith in Christ” and desiring to know the truth of the book. (See Moro. 10:4.)
Brother Camargo said he found it necessary to read the book again. In the process the Spirit witnessed to him that it was the true word of God, and he joined the Church with his family. He sometimes refers to the scripture in Isa. 52:7 which says, “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet [those huge missionary feet] of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; … that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth!” The truth he has found has brought similar beauty to the feet of three of his sons as they have served as missionaries. All of his children were married in the temple covenant, and he and his wife have great joy and rejoicing in their posterity. One of his sons is present at this conference today as a stake president.
President J. Reuben Clark, Jr., captured the spirit of this drawing power in his memorable address in 1947 “to them of the last wagon”—our pioneers who endured the hardships of their great journey:
“They had,” he said, “their testimony burning always like an eternal fire on a holy altar, that the restored gospel was true. …
“When in the evening the last wagon creaked slowly into its place in the circle corral, and the Brethren came to inquire how the day had gone with the mother, then joy leaped in their hearts, for had not the Brethren remembered them? New hope was born, weariness fled, fresh will to do was enkindled; gratitude to God was poured out for their knowledge of the truth, for their testimony that God lived, that Jesus was the Christ, that Joseph was a prophet, … and that for the righteous a crown of glory awaited that should be theirs during the eternities of the life to come.”
He states that at the conclusion of their journey, “[they] all sank to their knees in the joy of their souls, thanking God that at last they were in Zion. ‘Zion, Zion, lovely Zion, beautiful Zion, Zion, City of our God.’” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1947, pp. 157–58.)
What a thrill of joy must have moved Andrew as he said to Peter, “We have found the Messias.” (John 1:41.) Along with countless thousands, it has “come to pass that the righteous shall be gathered out from among all nations, and shall come to Zion, singing with songs of everlasting joy.” (D&C 45:71.)
May we lift our souls this beautiful Easter morning with the assurance that through the mystic call of the restored gospel we have come to the threshold of Zion and the gateway to eternal life. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

On 11 February 2023, Cyclone Gabrielle raced through New Zealand’s Hawke’s Bay, and left in its wake destruction and suffering. The Nuhaka Primary School in the small Hawke’s Bay community of the same name suffered extensive damage and was finally declared uninhabitable.
But through a unique collaboration between The Church and the Ministry of Education, the school obtained a wonderful solution to this and moved into the Nuhaka meetinghouse to hold classes.
Nine months later, the school continued to thrive in the church meetinghouse-turned-school during the week and students have settled in, enjoying the benefits of meeting in a building that has been dedicated to the Saviour, Jesus Christ.
Principal Raelene McFarlane said the use of the Church’s meetinghouse has been an answer to many prayers in the small community. Nine months after the school moved into the building, the results couldn’t have been better.

From time to time I meet members of the Church who do not feel able to take responsibility as an officer or a teacher in the Church. I tell them of my experience in England. Literally within days of baptism, I was called to head the youth program in the Nottingham Branch. This was completely new to me, and I felt inadeqate, but I knew the Lord had need of me. There were less than 7,000 members in the whole of the British Isles where there are now 40 stakes. We all had to be “anxiously engaged” in the work of saving souls, building the kingdom, and establishing Zion. So it is with all of us. It is futile to fear responsibility when we have been called to serve “by prophecy, and by the laying on of hands by those who are in authority” (A of F 1:5).