Gospel Story Finder

Like scarlet-robed noblemen and silken-gowned ladies-in-waiting, we paraded up the stone staircase to the turrets of the castle ramparts. There, we gazed out on a meadow where, in our minds at least, armor-clad knights awaited our signal to begin a joust.
Actually, as the Young Men and Young Women of the North Shields Ward, Sunderland England Stake, gathered inside the portcullis of Warkworth Castle, we had many such images in our minds. Swallowed in the immensity of the building, now mostly a rocky skeleton of the once regal residence, we wondered what it would have been like to roam the corridors, feast in the cavernous banquet hall, or dwell in the cold, stone chambers. It was one of the best history lessons I’ve ever received.
But then, in northeastern England, you could say history’s on the doorstep. A short ride in a minibus had taken us from our homes to the banks of the River Coquet, over which Warkworth’s turrets preside. Across the stream, the hermitage also offered a lesson in history, a lesson of a different sort. We had to row across the current to visit what had been used as a chapel and as living quarters for monks supported by the locals of the town. On rock face ruins, carved markings indicated the river level during the floods of 1831 and 1900, marks well over the head of an average person. Inside, the altar, vaulted roof, and wall decorations were all hewn from the same rock that formed the shell of the hermitage. It must have taken years to carve all that detail!
Even in Tyne and Wear (our home shire, or “county”), however, history lessons don’t last forever. We had to wait at one point for the next boat to cross the river, so we played rounders (which somewhat resembles baseball) and quoits (which resembles horseshoes), and some of the group walked an “invisible dog” to a nearby shop. Sister Ann Wilkinson, first counselor in the Young Women presidency, went strolling and found an unexpected mishap when she slipped on the riverbank. “The funniest part of the day was when my mam fell in the mud!” joked her 15-year-old daughter Linda.
Besides those adventures, we also had to take time for photos, and for lunch, and to admire the remarkable trees, ancient and mangled as they intertwined. After a full day of peering at fantasy armies through castle windows and storming up steps despite the worst foes our imaginations could muster, we reluctantly piled in the bus again to head for home, thinking that the weeks of gardening, stripping wallpaper, and doing odd jobs to pay for the excursion had been worthwhile. We had grown closer to each other as brothers and sisters in the gospel. We had taken an opportunity to explore and get to know the part of the world where we live and serve our Heavenly Father. And we had learned a little about history and geography as well.
On the way home, we paused at Druridge Bay to collect shells we intended to make into gifts for our Autumn Fayre. Kevin Murphy and Helen Loynes couldn’t resist the lure of the cold North Sea, and even persuaded a few of the hardier souls, who had been jumping in the sand banks, to join them, fully clothed, for a dip in the waves. Some shivered and others smiled as we rushed, teeth chattering, back to shore, and collapsed in the rocks and sand. We knew we had to get warm, and we knew we had to get back in the bus and head for home, and we knew we had to stop giggling and laughing. But the moment seemed to last forever, and we knew that the memories formed in one day would last us until the next time we got together for a Latter-day Saint weekend in the land that is our home.

Illustration by Amanda Smith
When a great family friend died a few months ago, I was really sad. I felt like I had a big, empty hole in my stomach. I thought it was never going to go away.
But the day my mom told me and my family that our friend had died, it wasn’t just me who felt sad. I was so worried about his family and how sad they were. If I felt this sad, his family must have felt a thousand times worse.
That night I said a prayer. I asked that our friends would be all right and feel comfort. I asked the same for my family.
After I said the prayer, I felt a wave of warmth come over me. I knew that it was the Holy Ghost comforting me. I knew that everything would be all right. The hole in my stomach filled, and I knew I would see my friend again someday.

On his second day in the MTC, a young missionary knew that he could not go another hour without talking to the president of the MTC. There were things in his life he should have cleared up with his bishop at home, but had not. And so, he turned and headed to the president's office. In that moment the young missionary began a journey of repentance, humility, and hope.

The path was not easy. He went back to his home ward and faced the same people who had sent him off on his mission the week before. He got a job, began working with his bishop, and lived at home. Those months were his Gethsemane. He suffered. He felt guilt, sorrow, and pain. And there were times, especially at night, when he felt lonely and discouraged. But he never gave up. He spent a lot of time in the scriptures and on his knees.

Day after day, night after night, over many days and weeks, the redeeming and strengthening powers of the Atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ became a living reality in his life. The Savior reached out and took hold of that young man and changed him from the inside out. When he went back into the mission field he was on fire. He became a mighty elder in Israel.

Sue and I were eyewitnesses of the power, love, and grace of Jesus Christ in that young missionary's life. That missionary was our son Michael.

My wife and I have just celebrated a remarkable thirtieth anniversary. Thirty years ago, young missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints knocked on our door in Nottingham, England.
How did their message appeal to two active members of another church? We, and generations before us, had held membership in the established church of the land. Furthermore, we were very happy with our way of life. Two precious children had graced our home, and a new job in a large industrial company was giving challenge and enjoyment.
What more could we hope for? What could add to our happiness? As the missionaries taught us and prayed with us, we began to realize that there were gaps in our life, that we had unfulfilled needs. For a few minutes may I share with you ten ways in which our lives became even more purposeful and happy as these needs were fulfilled. I am sure you will be able to identify some of these needs in your life, in your home, in your family.
First, we realized that our communication with God was not often enough or strong enough. True, we had always said our individual prayers, but when, because of the missionaries, we also started to pray together regularly as husband and wife and with our children, we experienced a tremendous feeling of closeness, not only with each other but with the Almighty God.
The missionaries had taught us that he is a personal being, that he is literally our Father, and prayers began to flow from the heart and were no longer repetitious. We came to know him as a loving Father, just and kind, reliable and true. What great need there is in the world today to commune with the Infinite, to talk and walk with God, to know that he speaks to us today and that we are in reality his children.
Second, we came to know Jesus Christ, not just as a historical figure, but as the living Son of God. In high school and the years that followed I had made a special study of the New Testament. However, the Savior’s life and mortal ministry had no great impact on my life until the missionaries testified, as did Job of old, that our Redeemer lives (see Job 19:25).
I came to know him as my personal Savior, who gave his life for me and for each of us. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). Everyone needs a friend and everyone has a friend beyond compare—Jesus Christ and him crucified and resurrected for us.
Third, as a young married couple, we were seeking security in an insecure world. We had grown from youth through teenage years during World War II. I had been a member of the Home Guard at sixteen, trained to defend my country, and at seventeen had volunteered for the Royal Air Force. Now, more than five years after the war had finished, there was still rubble in the streets and rationing in the shops.
We grasped at the secure message that the missionaries gave us, that God speaks today as he did anciently, through prophets. Yes, he is mindful of us, he does love us, he has restored his church and the fulness of his gospel as he promised. Oh, how the world needs a prophet to lead us and guide us in these troubled times. I testify that we have such a prophet. He sits behind me as I speak in this tabernacle. He presides over The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the Lord’s church and kingdom here on earth.
Fourth, we began attending the Church at the missionaries’ invitation—and what a friendly reception! We soon learned what true sociality is, and sincere brotherhood and sisterhood which bind together people of all nations and tongues. “Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellowcitizens with the saints, and of the household of God” (Eph. 2:19). What a wonderful feeling of belonging, of being needed and appreciated, beyond anything we had previously experienced.
Soon we were singing in choirs; visiting other Church members in their homes, just as they visited us; and giving service to others in some of the many service projects the Church provides. We were able to choose from a wide range of activities—drama, dancing, sport—to supplement the spiritual progress that came rapidly by worshiping and learning with other Latter-day Saints. Everyone needs to experience the warmth of friendship and happy social activity on a continuing basis.
Fifth, my family and family life became even more meaningful and precious to me as we commenced having wonderful family home evenings together. We learned that all over the world, members of the Church spend at least one evening a week together in a balanced evening of spiritual instruction, fun, and talent sharing. We love our children, and we were glad to learn from the missionaries that although baptism is essential for the remission of sins, infant baptism is not necessary since “all children who die before … accountability are saved in the celestial kingdom” (D&C 137:10). We have known a number of parents who have been distressed at the death of a small child because of the un-Christian doctrine of infant baptism.
Again, we also became concerned about our wider family: our grandparents, our great-grandparents, and all of our ancestors. This is also a universal need, as Alex Haley expressed, “a hunger, marrow-deep, to know our heritage” (“What Roots Means to Me,” Reader’s Digest, May 1977, p. 73). Everyone has some family, sometimes near, sometimes far, sometimes living in mortality, sometimes passed on and awaiting the Resurrection. The strength that comes from family in all its aspects is a vital need, one that can be fulfilled by the principles and programs learned from the missionaries.
Sixth, everyone appreciates good health, and there is a basic need to have our spirit housed in a well-functioning body if at all possible. Personally, I had suffered internal discomfort for some years, but the health code, or Word of Wisdom, taught by the missionaries helped me to overcome this. I can testify that the exclusion of the habit-forming stimulants of alcohol, tobacco, tea, and coffee has been a great blessing in my life and the lives of my wife and my children. I am glad the Lord gave this revelation through Joseph Smith, the Prophet, almost 150 years ago, bringing increased health and vitality to millions of people.
Seventh, as provider for our young family, I was not only concerned about physical and spiritual well-being, but indeed with personal progress generally. I soon found that in the Lord’s Church all kinds of resources are provided to fulfill this need. Before long I was involved in educational activities and leadership training and cultural pursuits of various kinds. Progress within my company organization was a natural outgrowth of progression in the Church. This was not surprising, for early in our discussions with the missionaries we had learned of God’s plan of eternal progression for his children. Does not everyone deep down have this yearning, this need to progress and improve, to develop and refine?
Eighth, I think along with these needs there is also a spirit of adventure in most of us in varying degrees, a need to discover, a need to explore. For many this need is met by reading adventure stories or traveling to new places. For myself, I had always been fascinated by the study of Middle Eastern archaeology, particularly of the great Egyptian civilization.
The message of my missionary friends even fulfilled this need, for they told us of an ancient record on gold plates, inscribed by people from the Middle East in the pre-Christian era. Imagine my excitement to learn that these ancient people with their prophets and culture had left the Old World and traveled to the New, to become a mighty people on what is now the American continent. Their records were hidden and preserved and a little over 150 years ago were discovered, not by archaeologists, but by a teenage youth. The faith and worthiness of this young man, Joseph Smith, enabled him not only to find the gold plates, but later to translate the hieroglyphic record by the power of God.
What a thrill it was to see some of the reformed Egyptian characters as copied by the hand of Joseph Smith. I knew by the feeling I had that they were true characters. Then, to hold this book of scripture, this Book of Mormon, in my hands and read it eagerly, sincerely, prayerfully, was a powerful spiritual experience. The need I had for the adventure of discovery was fulfilled through the Book of Mormon. This was not merely discovery of ancient peoples, but a complete discovery of the divinity of Jesus Christ. I testify that the Book of Mormon is a witness, a modern-day witness, of the Savior of the world, who visited this continent after his resurrection.
Ninth, as one who had lived less than perfectly, and yet had no serious matters to disturb my conscience, I felt the need to make some changes in my life. I was overjoyed to learn the pure teaching of Jesus Christ concerning faith, repentance, baptism by immersion for the remission of sins, and the laying on of hands to receive the Holy Ghost. What joy to start afresh with a clean sheet, having turned away from unsound doctrines, vain traditions, and perverted ordinances.
Again, this would seem to be a universal need, all men having been born into this earth life innocent and pure, and having been tainted by the things of the world. The marvelous thing is that Jesus gave his life for everyone. His resurrection was for everyone, “for as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive” (1 Cor. 15:22).
Tenth, and finally, since being baptized into this wonderful restored Church of Jesus Christ, I have felt an inner peace, “the peace of God, which passeth all understanding” (Philip. 4:7). I have heard many people say their greatest need and desire is to obtain peace of mind. How does this come? It comes by knowing the truth, for “the truth shall make you free” (John 8:32). I testify that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the true Church of Jesus Christ, and teaches true principles and true ordinances.
How grateful I am that my ten most fervent needs have been fulfilled through listening to the missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Then, by study and prayer and obedience to the laws and ordinances of the gospel, I have found happiness not only here but for eternities to come.
May all within the sound of my voice, and all God’s children everywhere, have the same fulfillment, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Roselinda Godi and her two children, Ayanda and Sibusiso, are from Harare, Zimbabwe. Roselinda and Ayanda were baptized as members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 2006. Ayanda was 16 years old at that time. Then a few months later, Ayanda’s 12-year-old brother, Sibusiso, was also baptized.

Roselinda was a single parent with two teenage kids to take care of, and she was doing all she could do to provide an income to give the very best she could to her children. She was also busy serving as the Primary president in her ward. She made a commitment not to miss church, to attend temple prep class each Sunday after church, to change her ways, and to be obedient to all the commandments.

After a few years, a missionary couple serving in Harare helped to organize a temple trip. The closest temple was in Johannesburg, South Africa, a little over 13 hours away. Roselinda would need to pay financially for the cost of travel to the temple, for accommodations, and for meals. The Church offered to help cover some of the cost for those going, but Roselinda politely declined so others who didn’t have enough financially could also go. She eventually had her temple recommend interview, in which she was issued her temple recommend.

She negotiated for time off from work and then found herself on the bus headed to Johannesburg. It was a two-day trip, one way, during the winter season. They were met with a few challenges along the way, including delays at the border, the front left tire bursting, causing the bus to veer off the road, and some health issues for some of the brethren traveling with them.

Finally, after a five-year wait, Roselinda was able to attend the Johannesburg South Africa Temple in 2011. Her wait to go to the temple didn’t go without sacrifice. She said, “For me, I’d look at this sacrifice not as such but as a blessing. The preparation was not easy, which is often the case with something we deeply desire to achieve.”

The best part for Roselinda was the feeling she got as she entered the temple. She said, “It is indescribable! It was amazing!” She experienced peace and joy as she had never known before. She knew then and there that the Lord was inside and, if possible, this is where she would want to be all the time. It is the place where she can properly hear Him, unburden herself, and let Him work miracles in her life. It’s this feeling that keeps her seeking to go to the temple, and she has never looked back!

At the age of fourteen, I was apprenticed to a dressmaker and learned how to make beautiful dresses. I worked for her for two years. Then my family made the decision to move to America. Times were hard in England. Jobs and food were both scarce. Also a call had gone out from the Church for the Saints to gather to Zion.
But first we had to sail to America!
I was excited when my family packed up their belongings and headed for Liverpool. It was a great seaport, teeming with ships of every kind. I loved watching the ships being loaded and unloaded with every kind of article you could imagine. Spices from India scented the air. Passenger ships were a hive of activity as their holds were loaded with food and water. There was so much to see!
Our ship was the Horizon, a good ship. We had fine weather all the way across the Atlantic, except for a few days when it was so foggy that we couldn’t even get candles to burn! On June 30, 1856, we safely landed in Boston, Massachusetts. We were thrilled to be in the land where the gospel had been restored!

Illustrations by David Malan
As a young man, I looked forward to the day when I would serve a full-time mission. When I finally entered the mission field, I discovered that missionary service was not what I had expected—it was better. It was harder than I thought, but the satisfaction that came from doing what the Lord asked of me was indescribable.
Never before had I experienced the joy of helping someone attend church. Never before had I felt the thrill of hearing someone say, “Sure, come on in” so that they could hear the restored gospel. Never before had I sensed the reality of the power that came as we declared repentance. Never before had I prayed with such real intent. Never before had an hour of scripture study gone by so fast. Never before had I been brought to tears by the realization of my imperfections. Never before had I experienced the devastation that comes with the words, “Elders, please don’t come by my house anymore.” Never before had I gotten a blister on my foot the size of my thumb. Never before had I felt so protected. Never before had I felt so much responsibility for my actions because I wore the name “Jesus Christ” on my chest.
Never before had I been so close to my Heavenly Father as I came to be during my full-time mission.

For example, as a young missionary in Brazil, I decided to learn to speak and read Portuguese 100 percent. Returning home from my mission, I didn’t think I would be using Portuguese again. But two years later I took the medical school entrance exam, and, lo and behold, my Portuguese was extremely helpful because Portuguese is a strongly influenced Latin-based language—as are many medical terms. Twenty years later I returned to São Paulo, Brazil, with my family as a mission president, and 35 years after that original decision, my wife and I returned to serve in the Area Presidency in the north of Brazil. Even today the joy of speaking another language without having to interpret word for word in my mind is a mystery and a blessing.

My wife and I have discovered that Scandinavia is a beautiful land filled with people of great ability and promise. Our family has a special interest in Denmark. It is the ancestral home of my wife’s great-great-grandparents. These ancestors came from Aalborg, Veeborg, Vila, and Presta. One of her great-great-grandfathers was Jens Christian Johansen. He was born in Frederikssund in Jutland in 1832. We have been privileged to read his journal, and we have become more appreciative of the rich spiritual heritage we enjoy as a result of this righteous Danish ancestor.
Jens Johansen was an industrious man. He had grown up in poverty and had prayed that his children would not be required to go begging for food as he had done as a young man. He took a job at an early age. He worked as a stable boy. He learned to farm and to make wooden shoes. His integrity and ambition as a worker enabled him to purchase a farm in Hormesta in 1857. It was at this time that the missionaries came to Grandfather Johansen and his family. He accepted the restored gospel with the same enthusiasm and dedication that had characterized his working endeavors. He worked hard trying to help the Church increase in numbers and influence in his community. Church meetings were often held in his home. At that time there was the desire among many Scandinavians to immigrate to Utah. And Jens Johansen had this same desire. Since he couldn’t go himself, he sent his three daughters in advance. In one year they had earned enough money to help their parents to follow them. He called this a miracle.
Jens discovered that his Danish talents of thrift and industry were assets in his new homeland. It was not long before he bought a small farm and erected a home on it for his family. He located in Elsinore, Utah. Grandfather Johansen’s faith in the Lord enabled him to deal successfully with hardships and challenges. It allowed him to live an enjoyable life. He enjoyed music. He loved to sing and to play the accordion. He liked to speak in Church meetings. He records that his favorite meetings were the ones spoken in Danish. He stated that they were “spoken loud enough so we could all hear and say amen.” He couldn’t understand why those speaking English always mumbled so no one could understand. He took pride in the labor of his hands. His skills were often sought after by his associates. He would willingly provide help to those in need, and he gratefully acknowledged the contributions others made toward his own comfort and happiness.

May Li walked home from school with her friend. The Taipei, Taiwan (China), sidewalk was crowded with people. Trucks, cars, and scooters roared past them. May Li was happy when she saw her building. She was tired and hungry. “Good-bye, Ling Ling,” she said. “I have to help my mother prepare dinner and then get my schoolwork done.”
“Ummm …” Ling Ling looked down as she started to speak. “Do you think I could come and help? You know I can chop fast, and I like to help.”
May Li was puzzled. Why did her friend always want to help fix dinner? This was the second time this week that Ling Ling had asked to help. And she had helped at least twice the week before. Each time Ling Ling helped, May Li’s mother invited her to stay for dinner.
May Li ran up the steps to her home, motioning for Ling Ling to follow her. “Come on,” she replied. “We’ll ask my mother if you can stay.”
Ling Ling jumped two steps at a time. She almost beat May Li to the top step. “Hsieh-hsieh (Thank you). I hope your mother says I may stay.”
May Li’s mind was filled with worries as they burst through the doorway to her home. She liked to have Ling Ling stay for dinner, but she worried that her parents might not like having her come so often. Most of all, she worried about Ling Ling. Maybe her friend didn’t get enough to eat at her own home.
“I’m home!” May Li called. “Ling Ling is with me. She wants to help prepare dinner.”
May Li’s mother greeted the girls with a happy smile. “It is nice to have a friend who likes to share your work. And you are welcome to stay for dinner, Ling Ling.”
Ling Ling jumped and clapped her hands. “Hsieh-hsieh! I would love to stay for dinner.”
“You should call your mother,” May Li said, “to make certain it’s all right with her.”
Ling Ling’s happy smile went away. “Yes, I need to call. Last time I stayed here for dinner, Mother was not very happy. She says that I stay too often.”
While Ling Ling went into the next room to call, May Li talked quietly to her mother. “I hope it is all right to bring Ling Ling home for dinner again. She likes to come here so much. I will eat less if we do not have enough.”
“I am not concerned about the food,” Mother said. “We are happy to share what we have. But I am beginning to wonder if Ling Ling is not getting enough food at home.”
“I know. I have wondered that also.”
May Li looked at the delicious vegetables soaking in the sink, and at the fish and pork ready to be fried. “Maybe Ling Ling only gets rice to eat—maybe she doesn’t even get enough rice!”
May Li wondered what to do, but before she could say any more, she heard Ling Ling hang up the telephone. May Li began to chop the vegetables. Chop, chop, chop. Quickly the mushrooms became many small pieces.
“Guess what?” Ling Ling exclaimed. “I can stay! What would you like me to chop?”
May Li and Ling Ling chopped cabbage, green peppers, and green onions. They laughed and giggled as they set rice bowls and kuaidze (chopsticks) on the table.
Dinner was almost ready by the time May Li’s father came home. He greeted everyone when he came in the door. May Li felt better. She knew that father would know what to do if Ling Ling’s family did not have enough food.
When dinner was ready, May Li’s father invited everyone to kneel for the prayer. He knelt beside his chair. “May Li, would you say the family prayer tonight? And be sure to remember all of our friends and their families.”
Of course! That was the answer! May Li knew that Heavenly Father loved Ling Ling’s family as much as He loved hers. She knew that He would answer her prayer and bless them. As she prayed, she thanked Heavenly Father for having Ling Ling in their home, and she asked a special blessing for Ling Ling’s family—that they would always have enough food to eat. When the prayer was over, everyone sat up to the table and started to eat.
“Hsieh-hsieh for that nice prayer,” said Ling Ling, “and for including my family.”
May Li looked at her rice bowl. “You’re welcome,” she said. “I hope your family always has enough food to eat.”
“Oh, we do,” Ling Ling said. “And my mother is a wonderful cook.”
“But, I thought …” May Li had a difficult time coming up with the right words. “I thought you didn’t have enough food to eat and that is why you like to come and eat at my house so often.”
Ling Ling looked down and stirred the rice in her bowl. “No, it isn’t the food at your house,” she said. “It is the prayer. I feel good inside when I kneel with your family to pray. I wish my family did that.” She paused, then added, “My mother said to invite you over to our house for dinner. If you come, I will ask my parents if we can have family prayer because you are there and it is your family tradition. Will you help me say the prayer if my parents agree?”
May Li and her parents looked at each other with surprise. May Li smiled. “I would love to go to your house for dinner,” she said. “I will help you chop vegetables. And I will be happy to help you say the family prayer. Hsieh-hsieh for asking me.”

Inviting friends to church can sometimes be scary. But not to Russell! This nine-year-old from New Zealand loves sharing the gospel with his friends and showing them how great the Church is.
Russell W. has a mild form of autism, which can make it hard for him to communicate. But that doesn’t stop him from making friends. When a new family moved into his neighborhood, Russell quickly befriended their son, a boy his age named Connor. Connor has a condition that makes it hard for him to sit still and focus on one thing.
Russell’s family welcomed Connor into their home, and Connor liked being there. Russell often invited Connor to go to church with him. As he went to church, Connor found that he was able to focus more and it was easier for him to sit still and be reverent. Connor’s parents saw the positive effect that the Church had on their son. They invited the missionaries to their home to learn more about the gospel. One day, Connor’s family decided they were ready to be baptized!
Russell’s and Connor’s birthdays are close together, and they were baptized on the same day. Russell was excited that he could share that special day with his friend.
Russell continues to be a missionary. He has invited several friends to church since he and Connor were baptized. One of these friends is considering being baptized too! As Russell’s dad says, “The Church is part of Russell’s life. He enjoys it, so why not invite a friend to make it even more fun?”

Late one evening on a Pacific isle, a small boat slipped silently to its berth at the crude pier. Two Polynesian women helped Meli Mulipola from the boat and guided him to the well-worn pathway leading to the village road. The women marveled at the bright stars which twinkled in the midnight sky. The friendly moonlight guided them along their way. However, Meli Mulipola could not appreciate these delights of nature—the moon, the stars, the sky—for he was blind.
His vision had been normal until that fateful day when, while he was working on a pineapple plantation, light turned suddenly to darkness and day became perpetual night. He later learned of the Restoration of the gospel and the teachings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. His life had been brought into compliance with these teachings.
He and his loved ones had made this long voyage, having learned that one who held the priesthood of God was visiting among the islands. Brother Mulipola sought a blessing under the hands of those who held the sacred priesthood. His wish was granted. Tears streamed from his sightless eyes and coursed down his brown cheeks, tumbling finally upon his native dress. He dropped to his knees and prayed: “Oh, God, Thou knowest I am blind. Thy servants have blessed me that if it be Thy will, my sight may return. Whether in Thy wisdom I see light or whether I see darkness all the days of my life, I will be eternally grateful for the truth of Thy gospel, which I now see and which provides me the light of life.”
He arose to his feet, thanked us for providing the blessing, and disappeared into the dark of the night. Silently he came; silently he departed. But his presence I shall never forget. I reflected upon the message of the Master: “I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.”

“Why didn’t you bring me a horse, too, Grandpa?” Janey asked, reaching up to pat the horse’s soft forehead longingly.
“You’ll get a horse when you are a little bit older, Janey,” Grandpa told her. “I only had Glory to give away now, and Dusty has been waiting even longer than you have for a horse.” Janey didn’t see the twinkle in his eye when he added, “But you be patient, and you’ll get a horse, too, before long.”
Janey was sad not to have her own horse, but she was glad that her brother, Dusty, had Glory. And Janey had to admit that what she really wanted was a foal. Still, Janey loved Glory. The horse had large, dark eyes and a long bushy tail. Her white coat glistened when it was brushed. Her mane was long, and it waved on each side of her neck as she ran in the pasture.
Dusty was very generous. He let Janey ride Glory around the barnyard. She could feed Glory lumps of sugar and stroke her smooth, soft face. She loved Dusty’s mare, and it wasn’t so bad sharing a horse with Dusty. But Janey remembered what Grandpa had said about her having a horse of her own, and she wondered when “later” would come.
One day Grandpa told the children that Glory was going to have a foal! Janey and Dusty were happy and excited. Grandpa had a big smile, too, at first, but then he looked very serious as he told them, “The veterinarian says that Glory may have a hard time and be very sick. We must keep her in the stable close to the farmhouse.”
“So we can keep an eye on her?” asked Dusty.
“That’s right,” Grandpa answered.
The children and Grandpa watched Glory night and day. When Janey and Dusty were in school, Grandpa watched the horse. When the children were home, they gave her sweet-smelling hay and oats and corn. They brought her fresh water and fed her lumps of sugar. Each night they covered her with a warm blanket. They petted her and let her know that they loved her very much.
When Janey’s class was dismissed early one day, she went home and sat on the back porch and played with Angel, their cat. Suddenly she heard Grandpa calling to her.
“Is it Glory, Grandpa?” Janey asked as she hurried to the stable.
“Yes,” Grandpa answered. “I must stay and help her. Please go call Dr. Jameson. Hurry!”
Janey raced back to the house to call the vet. How glad she was to hear him tell her that he could come immediately!
When Dusty came home, he saw the veterinarian’s van. “Is it Glory?” he asked Janey. She nodded, and together they ran to the stable.
There, standing on wobbly legs close to Glory, was a tiny white horse! It looked kind of lost, like it needed someone to love it. Glory lay on the soft, mellow hay Grandpa had forked down for her. Her big brown eyes were closed.
“Glory?” Janey’s eyes searched her grandpa’s face, then the doctor’s.
“Glory is only tired. She’s resting,” Dr. Jameson explained. “She’ll be all right.”
When Janey looked at Grandpa again, this time she saw the twinkle in his eye when he said, “Well, Janey, it’s ‘later.’ Glory’s foal is yours. What will you call her?”
Janey blinked back happy, excited tears. She quickly put her arms around the little horse’s neck and said, “Her name’s Glory II. And I’m going to share her with Dusty.”

When attending the stake conference of the Winter Haven Florida Stake (now Lakeland Florida Stake) we were invited to stay at the home of Brother and Sister Nolan. After the Saturday evening session we visited for awhile before retiring for the night I asked the Nolan's to tell us about their conversion which had occurred almost 20 years before. They both smiled then Sister Nolan started telling us about their eventual baptism. Her story went somewhat like this: "We had been married just a short time and one evening were having a big fight" Brother Nolan interrupted his wife by saying, "Now dear, we were not fighting, just having an argument" Sister Nolan continued, Well anyway, we were really upset with each other and in the midst of the argument the doorbell rang. I answered the doorbell and there were two Mormon Elders at the door. I called to my husband that two Mormon missionaries wanted to visit with us. His response was 'send them away!' I was so mad at him that I invited them in!" Brother Nolan continued, "As those missionaries came into the room, the ill feelings we had for each other just disappeared. We both knew that there was something special about these young men and the message they left with us."
At the time of our visit, Brother Nolan was serving as a counselor in the stake presidency and their son had submitted his papers to serve as a missionary.

I really connected with the devotional talk by Heina Hanohano where she mentioned how our work can sometimes pull us away from the things that matter most. Before coming to BYU–Hawaii, I worked at Target as what was essentially an assistant store manager. Like many in the retail and hospitality industries, I worked long hours, weekends, holidays, especially during the busy Christmas season. From November to February, it wasn’t unusual for me to work 120+ hours a week. For most of the Christmas season, from the moment I walked in the door of my home, I only had five hours before I had to turn around and drive back to work. A lot of times that’s what the job required, but a lot of times I chose to stay at work in order to advance my career. Things at work were going well, I had received several promotions, and my career was going in the direction that I had expected.

However, my family life was suffering. My wife told me that she often felt like a single parent. One day, I was sitting in the driveway with my wife, and for the first time ever, I saw my oldest child ride her bike all around the driveway. I was amazed and said to my wife, “Wow, I can’t believe how quickly she’s learned to ride her bike. How long has she been practicing, a week?”

My wife looked at me and gently said, “Actually… she’s been riding that bike for over six months. Where have you been?”

That moment hit me hard. I realized I had been so focused on work, on climbing the ladder, that I was missing out on spending time with my family.

A few months later, my father was diagnosed with terminal cancer. My family and I decided to move from Hawaii to Utah to care for and to spend time with my father.

About eight months later, my father passed, and instead of going back to Target, I felt it was a good time to change careers.

I want to clarify that I’m not saying that working long hours is a bad thing; it’s usually part of the journey. Many of you will be going into careers that require that kind of work ethic, especially at the start of your career. That experience was important for my career at that time in my life.

However, it is critical that we make time for the things that matter most.

When I was a junior in high school, I struggled with my testimony of the Church. I loved school, my social life, and athletics. I was a “three-sporter”—football, wrestling, and baseball were my sports of choice. I loved competition and the social appreciation that came with a job well done.
Unfortunately, this love of social appreciation influenced me to get involved in other activities that were not as productive—activities that I knew were clearly not acceptable in my home or in the Church. But I felt like a popular kid at school, and if participating in certain activities provided this attention, then I wanted to be involved, regardless of the consequences.
One young woman in my high school could be described as my polar opposite. Her life was filled with the scriptures, seminary, prayer, and active attendance at church and Mutual. She was also captain of the drill team.
She and I were in the same ward, but I rarely saw her because I didn’t actively participate in the ward. We really didn’t speak much. She knew who I was and I knew who she was, but we just didn’t have a lot to talk about. Although I never told anyone, I had a great appreciation for her commitment to the gospel. In a way, I wanted it, but I wasn’t willing to go get it and give up what I needed to give up.
One day we were about to pass each other in the hall. I didn’t want to talk with her, so I tried not to make eye contact. Then she said, “Hi, Mike. Can I talk with you for a minute?” I didn’t know what she was doing. She continued, “Mike, I’ve had an impression that I need to share with you. I know that if you were to just give up some of the bad things you’re doing, then you could be such an incredible influence for good. I just felt like I needed to tell you that. See ya.”
She continued to walk down the hall in her direction and I in mine. But I was not the same. Her courage had planted a seed, and I started to reflect on my life and the truth of what she said. And then I started to change.
At the end of my senior year, someone presented me with the question “What’s so bad about being good?” My answer is nothing! Everything I have in life that is good can be attributed to my doing something good. I have never received something good from doing something bad. I am grateful for this young woman and her willingness to stand up and testify of truth.
I am now happily married in the temple and have six beautiful children. My wife and I are trying to teach our children what this young woman taught me: that being good is great and that it allows us to have a positive impact on so many around us.

Over 100 years ago, in the Samoan Islands of the Pacific Ocean, a young man named Tom Fanene was an important help during a life-and-death situation for members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Tom lived in a village called Sauniatu, which had been founded by Latter-day Saints in the area as a place for them to gather and make a community. Just like Saints of God in other times and places, they experienced trials as well as miracles as they worked to build God’s kingdom together. One trial came in 1918, when an influenza pandemic reached the village.
As soon as the illness arrived, it was devastating, and it spread quickly. Nearly every one of the roughly 400 villagers was bedridden because of it. Only a couple of them were well enough to get around: an older man and 12-year-old Tom.
During the 1918 influenza epidemic, Tom exercised faith as he worked hard to care for the people of the village. “Every morning I went from house to house to feed and clean the people and to find out who had died,” he said.
He fetched buckets of water from a spring and brought water to every house. He climbed coconut trees, picked coconuts, husked them, and opened them to collect the juice to bring it to the sick. He also killed all of the chickens in the village to make soup for each family.
The 12-year-old Tom Fanene helped nurse his village to health during a pandemic.
Illustration by James Madsen
During this pandemic, around one-fourth of all of the people in Samoa died of influenza. Some of the people in Tom’s village died as well. Tom helped dig graves and bury more than 20 of them, including his own father, Elisala.
But thanks to Tom’s hard work and loving care, many people in his village survived. He made a big difference to those people and to the building up of the Lord’s kingdom in Samoa. He was “laying the foundation of a great work.”
The 1918 influenza pandemic hit them hard. But Tom helped many to survive. Children went back to school, and villagers again formed the Sauniatu Branch Band (above).

Andy Taylor had a problem. And he was worrying about it so much that he hardly noticed anything else going on around him. He didn’t even hear the click-clacking music of his skateboard wheels as he rolled along toward Mr. Weber’s house.
The problem had started right after his baptism. “Now remember, Andrew,” Sister Thomas had said, “every member of the Church should be a missionary. And that’s what you are now—a real member.”
Even though he had always felt like a member, Andy knew now that he really was a member. Still, he’d asked Sister Thomas if even Primary kids were supposed to be missionaries, and she’d said “Yes, even Primary kids.”
When he got home, Andy asked his father the same question and got the same answer. That’s why he was going to see Mr. Weber. Maybe Mr. Weber can help me, he thought. He’s a great thinker.
Andy screeched his skateboard to a stop in front of Mr. Weber’s house, opened the door, and walked in. “Mr. Weber,” he called. “It’s me, Andy Taylor.”
Several months ago, shortly before Andy’s eighth birthday, Mr. Weber had been injured in a terrible automobile accident. He couldn’t walk or talk or do anything now except lie in his bed. He even had a full-time nurse to help take care of him.
Andy had started coming to see Mr. Weber every day after school, just for short visits, to keep him company. At first the visits had been hard for Andy because he had had to do all the talking. Then one day Andy discovered that Mr. Weber could sort of talk to him by blinking his eyes—one blink for “yes” and two blinks for “no.” After that they talked about everything. Well, Andy did all the real talking, and Mr. Weber did all the blinking, but it was almost like they were both talking out loud.
It was because he and Andy had become such special friends that Andy was allowed to walk into Mr. Weber’s house whenever he wanted. And now Andy just had to talk to his friend about his problem. “Hi, Mr. Weber,” Andy said as he seated himself on a stool by the side of the bed. He always sat close enough to clearly see Mr. Weber’s eyes. “Did you get a lot of rest today?”
Mr. Weber blinked his eyes once for “Yes.”
“Great! I have a really big problem that I want to talk over with you. Is that OK?”
“Yes,” Mr. Weber blinked.
So Andy explained about his baptism, about how he was now a real member of the Church, and about how every member of the Church should be a missionary. “But how can I be a missionary when I’m only eight years old?” Andy asked. “Maybe only grownup members are meant to be missionaries. Is that right, Mr. Weber?”
“No,” Mr. Weber blinked.
“You mean kids should be missionaries, too?” Andy asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s what Sister Thomas, my Primary teacher, said, and my father agrees with her. But being a missionary kind of scares me. You see, I don’t know how to be a missionary.”
Mr. Weber blinked once. “Yes.”
“Yes?” Andy repeated, surprised. “I do know how to be a missionary?”
“Yes,” Mr. Weber blinked.
“But I don’t knock on doors like real missionaries do.”
“No,” Mr. Weber blinked twice.
“And I’ve never read to you from the Bible or the Book of Mormon.”
“No,” Mr. Weber answered.
“Boy, am I lost.” Andy tried to think of anything that he might have done that would make Mr. Weber think of him as a missionary, but Andy’s mind was as empty as the time he had flunked a spelling test. He just sat there and couldn’t think of a thing.
Andy glanced up and saw that Mr. Weber’s eyes were closed. It was his way of telling Andy that he wasn’t talking enough. If Andy didn’t talk, Mr. Weber couldn’t blink.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Weber. I know you want to talk, but I’m stumped. How can I be a missionary?”
Mr. Weber’s eyes glanced quickly from one side of the room to the other, then he stared really hard at Andy. Deliberately he did the same thing again.
Let’s see, Andy thought. By first looking at his room and then at me, he’s trying to tell me something. “You want me to figure out some connection between your room and me?”
“Yes,” Mr. Weber blinked.
Andy got excited, knowing that he was close to the answer. “Let’s see. Your room and me, and we’re talking about me being a missionary. Am I being a missionary by visiting you in your room?”
“Yes,” Mr. Weber blinked again.
Andy was pleased with his lucky guess. Suddenly he remembered pictures he had seen of pioneers throwing seeds from sacks slung over their shoulders. “I remember something from a Primary lesson,” Andy said. “Farmers plant seeds that grow. And when I’m good and do good things, maybe I’m planting ‘missionary seeds.’”
“Yes,” Mr. Weber blinked, and his eyes were really shining now. That meant that Andy had it right.
“So even though I’m only eight years old and I don’t knock on doors like real missionaries do, I can still be a missionary by setting a good example and by being kind and thoughtful. And visiting you is one way that I do good—is that it, Mr. Weber?”
“Yes,” Mr. Weber blinked.
“Wahoo!” Andy yelled. “That’s it! I can be a missionary by helping those around me. I’m going to help Mrs. Gandey in her garden and Mr. Thompson with his lawn. And I’m going to keep visiting you. Thanks, Mr. Weber.” Andy jumped down from the stool and added, “I’m glad that we had this talk. I’m going to be the best missionary that you ever saw!”
“And thank you, Andy Taylor,” Mr. Weber’s eyes seemed to twinkle back. “I’m glad that we had this talk too.”

Let me tell you the story of one young man and his experience with the Word of Wisdom. As a young man about nineteen years old, after the funeral of his father, he and his mother and his sister made an agreement that they would never break the Word of Wisdom unless they were all three together and decided it was all right to do it.

He went away to the University of Pennsylvania to learn to become a dentist. He was now in his fourth year at the university, and he was the captain of the track team of this great university. The team went to Boston to compete in the national track meet at Harvard University.

The night before the big meet, while he was in his hotel room getting ready to retire, the track coach came and said, “Tomorrow is a great day for me and the school. I have always dreamed of having a national championship team. I want every member of the team to be in top shape. I have brought a bottle of special wine to tone up your system, and I want you to forget your funny Mormon ideas and have some so you’ll be in top shape tomorrow.”

“Coach, I just can’t do it. I respect and admire you, but I have made a solemn promise to my sister and my mother and my God, and I just can’t do it.” The coach was disappointed as he went away.

The next morning there was an anxious knock on his door. His name was called out, and he answered, “What’s the matter?”

The coach asked, “Are you all right?” He said, “Yes, I’m all right.”

“Thank goodness. Every other member of the team is sick.”

This young man went out as the lone representative of the university track team. He ran the 100-yard and 220-yard dashes. He had just run in a qualifying heat on the 220-yard dash, and ordinarily there is a field event in between the track events to allow the runners to rest and get their breath. On this occasion all the field events had been completed, and, because of the restless crowd, they announced the finals in the 220-yard dash. He was tired and needed a few minutes to rest. He protested to the officials, but they did not delay it.

As he lined up for the race, he said, that tired feeling left him, and that day he set a new world’s record for the 220-yard dash on a curved track.

The Lord has given us a marvelous promise with that commandment. He said,
And all saints who remember to keep and do these sayings, walking in obedience to the commandments, shall receive health in their naval and marrow to their bones;
And shall find wisdom and great treasures of knowledge, even hidden treasures;
And shall run and not be weary, and shall walk and not faint.
And I, the Lord, give unto them a promise, that the destroying angel shall pass by them, as the children of Israel, and not slay them. [D&C 89:18–21]
The Lord didn’t fail him, and he won’t fail you.

One of our missionary associates in England twenty-five years ago recently sent me a copy of a talk he had given in church. In it was a single sentence spoken to him personally by David O. McKay in Wales when that great, saintly man visited his mother’s ancestral home. He was apparently touched by an act of courtesy from this fine young missionary. President McKay said to him, “Son, once a ­gentleman, always a gentleman.” H. Perry Driggs has treasured that thought for half his lifetime, and I am sure he has tried to measure up to the invitation. He succeeds.