Gospel Story Finder

Anne, Lisa, Paula, Vicki, and Joanne* weren’t members of the Church, but they seemed to have high standards. And since there were no Latter-day Saint girls in my neighborhood when my family moved in, I was grateful they befriended me and took me into their group.
A few years later, we left our little elementary school and entered junior high. Right away, things started to change. Soon our conversations began to include fashions and boys. I noticed that my friends were treating me a little differently, too. I brushed it off, but then it got worse. Whispering ended abruptly when I joined the group, and the other girls paired up more. Joanne and Vicki seemed to splinter off, and Anne, Lisa, and Paula spent a lot of time together, often leaving me alone.
It hurt when I learned, one Monday morning, of Friday night’s party at Anne’s house. “We thought you were too busy” was supposed to be an explanation for not inviting me. Another day we were all to meet at the park, but when I got there one of the girls told me that another girl was mad at me, so I’d better leave.
Christmastime came, and our usual Christmas gift exchange was planned. Usually we drew one another’s names, but since I hadn’t been around, someone drew a name for me. I was to buy a gift for Paula. No one had drawn my name, and they were sure I’d be too busy to come to the party, so they asked me to drop off my gift at the door.
I don’t remember whether I was more hurt than angry, but I do remember trying to think of all the mean ways I could get back at them. After some thinking, it occurred to me that being mean wouldn’t be right.
Maybe the best thing to do would be nothing at all, I thought. For a while I settled on ignoring them and their party until I realized that if I didn’t give Paula a present, they might think they were justified in treating me unkindly. I decided, finally, to give Paula something beautiful to show I could rise above pettiness and forgive.
The prettiest wrapping paper I could find made a lovely lining and covering for a small shoe box. I carefully chose items to fill the treasure box: a dainty cut-glass perfume bottle, a miniature vase with tiny dried flowers in it, and other dried flowers in doll-sized bouquets, all tied with ribbons.
The most important part of the gift was the inspirational poems I copied in my best handwriting on pretty stationery. I rolled each like a scroll, tied them with ribbon, and carefully laid them in the box. Finally, I laid the covered lid on the box and tied it closed with a matching ribbon. I walked to Anne’s house, where the party was being held, gave someone my gift, and left. I felt good knowing that I had done the right thing. From that time on, although I never rejoined that group of girls, they were never unkind to me.
We graduated from junior high and went on to high school. If we happened to meet in the halls, we always acknowledged one another with a friendly hello but rarely stopped to talk. After high school graduation, I went away to college.
I came home to visit during a holiday that year, and I heard that the LDS students attending the local junior college had planned a get-together at the institute of religion. Everyone who had gone away to college and returned for the holiday was invited. When I arrived, I saw Paula. She was waiting for me with tears in her eyes.
She threw her arms around me, and after a few minutes she explained: “After high school the missionaries came to my house and taught me the gospel. I was baptized just a few weeks ago, and I’ve been attending institute classes.
“We were so mean to you in junior high, and I felt so bad. I’m so sorry! I loved the box you made for me, and I kept it. I love the poems. They’re spiritual and beautiful, and I reread them all the time.”
I sure had some exciting news to tell my parents when I got home that night! Sometimes rewards for doing right come immediately, but sometimes not for years. We may never learn of the good we’ve done, though the effects of our good deeds may span many lifetimes. I am relieved that I didn’t give in to my angry feelings those many years ago and do something unkind. I am glad that, during that Christmas season long ago, I chose a gift of love—a treasure that Paula now more fully shares.

On July 26, 1847, their third day in the valley (the second having been the Sabbath), Brigham Young, with members of the Twelve and some others, climbed a peak about one and a half miles from where I now stand. They thought it a good place to raise an ensign to the nations. Heber C. Kimball wore a yellow bandana. They tied it to Willard Richards’s walking stick and waved it aloft, an ensign to the nations. Brigham Young named it Ensign Peak.
Then they descended to their worn-out wagons, to the few things they had carried 2,000 miles, and to their travel-weary followers. It was not what they possessed that gave them strength but what they knew.
They knew they were Apostles of the Lord Jesus Christ. They knew that the priesthood had been delivered to them by angelic messengers. They knew they had the commandments and the covenants to offer opportunity for the eternal salvation and exaltation for all mankind. They were sure that the inspiration of the Holy Ghost attended them.
They busied themselves plowing up gardens, putting up shelters against the winter soon to come. They prepared for others already on the prairie following them to this new gathering place.
A revelation, written nine years earlier, directed them to “arise and shine forth, that thy light may be a standard for the nations;
“And that the gathering together upon the land of Zion, and upon her stakes, may be for a defense, and for a refuge from the storm, and from wrath when it shall be poured out without mixture upon the whole earth” (D&C 115:5–6).
They were to be the “light,” the “standard.”
The standard, established by revelation, is contained in the scriptures through the doctrines of the gospel of Jesus Christ. The principles of the gospel life we follow are based on doctrine, and the standards accord with the principles. We are bound to the standards by covenant, as administered through the ordinances of the gospel by those who have received priesthood and the keys of authority.
Those faithful Brethren were not free, and we are not free, to alter the standards or to ignore them. We must live by them.
It is not a cure or a comfort to simply say they do not matter. We all know they do matter, for all mankind is “instructed sufficiently that they know good from evil” (2 Nephi 2:5).
If we are doing the best we can, we should not become discouraged. When we fall short, as we do, or stumble, which we might, there is always the remedy of repentance and forgiveness.
We are to teach our children the moral standard to avoid every kind of immorality. The precious powers within their mortal bodies “are to be employed only between man and woman, lawfully wedded as husband and wife.” We must be completely faithful in marriage.
We are to keep the law of tithing. We attend to our responsibilities in the Church. We gather each week for sacrament meeting to renew the covenants and earn the promises in those simple and sacred prayers over the bread and water. We are to honor the priesthood and be obedient to the covenants and ordinances.
Those Brethren on Ensign Peak knew that they were to live ordinary lives and keep the image of Christ engraven in their countenances (see Alma 5:14).
They understood that the stakes were to be a defense and a refuge, but at that time there was not one stake on the earth. They knew their mission was to establish stakes of Zion in every nation of the earth.
Perhaps they wondered what kind of wrath or storm could be poured out that they had not already experienced. They had endured savage opposition, violence, terrorism. Their homes had been burned, their property taken. They were driven from their homes time after time after time. They knew then, as we know now, that there would be no end to opposition. The nature of it changes, but it never ends. There would be no end to the kinds of challenges that the early Saints would face. New challenges would be different than, but certainly not less than, that through which they had made their way.
Now the stakes of Zion number in the thousands and are all over the world. The members number in the millions and growing. Neither of these can be held back, for this is the work of the Lord. Now members live in 160 nations and speak over 200 languages.
Some live with an unspoken fear of what awaits us and the Church in the world. It grows ever darker in morality and spirituality. If we will gather into the Church, live the simple principles of the gospel, live moral lives, keep the Word of Wisdom, tend to our priesthood and other duties, then we need not live in fear. The Word of Wisdom is a key to both physical health and revelation. Avoid tea, coffee, liquor, tobacco, and narcotics.
We can live where we wish, doing the best we can to make a living, whether modest or generous. We are free to do as we wish with our lives, assured of the approval and even the intervention of the Almighty, confident of constant spiritual guidance.
Each stake is a defense and a refuge and a standard. A stake is self-contained with all that is needed for the salvation and exaltation of those who would come within its influence, and temples are ever closer.
There has been no end to opposition. There are misinterpretations and misrepresentations of us and of our history, some of it mean-spirited and certainly contrary to the teachings of Jesus Christ and His gospel. Sometimes clergy, even ministerial organizations, oppose us. They do what we would never do. We do not attack or criticize or oppose others as they do us.
Even today there are those preposterous stories handed down and repeated so many times they are believed. One of the silliest of them is that Mormons have horns.
Years ago, I was at a symposium at a college in Oregon. Present were a Catholic bishop, a rabbi, an Episcopalian minister, an Evangelical minister, a Unitarian clergyman, and myself.
The president of the school, Dr. Bennett, hosted a breakfast. One of them asked which wife I had brought. I told them I had a choice of one. For a second, I thought that I was being singled out for embarrassment. Then someone asked the Catholic bishop if he had brought his wife.
The next question came from Dr. Bennett to me: “Is it true that Mormons have horns?”
I smiled and said, “I comb my hair so that they can’t be seen.”
Dr. Bennett, who was completely bald, put both hands on the top of his head and said, “Oh! You can never make a Mormon out of me!”
Strangest of all, otherwise intelligent people claim we are not Christian. This shows that they know little or nothing about us. It is a true principle that you cannot lift yourself by putting others down.
Some suppose that our high standards will repel growth. It is just the opposite. High standards are a magnet. We are all children of God, drawn to the truth and to good.
We face the challenge of raising families in the world in darkening clouds of wickedness. Some of our members are unsettled, and sometimes they wonder: Is there any place one can go to escape from it all? Is there another town or a state or a country where it is safe, where one can find refuge? The answer generally is no. The defense and the refuge is where our members now live.
The Book of Mormon prophesies, “Yea, and then shall the work commence, with the Father among all nations in preparing the way whereby his people may be gathered home to the land of their inheritance” (3 Nephi 21:28).
Those who come out of the world into the Church, keep the commandments, honor the priesthood, and enter into activity have found the refuge.
A few weeks ago in one of our meetings, Elder Robert C. Oaks, one of the seven Presidents of the Seventy (a retired four-star general and commander of NATO air forces in Central Europe), reminded us of an accord signed by 10 nations on board the battleship Missouri in Tokyo Bay on September 2, 1945, which ended World War II. Some of us were in Asia at the time. Said Elder (General) Oaks: “I can’t even imagine a circumstance today in which such a meeting could be held or such an accord could be signed to end the war against terrorism and wickedness in which we are engaged. It is not that kind of war.”
We are not to be afraid, even in a world where the hostilities will never end. The war of opposition that was prophesied in the revelations continues today. We are to be happy and positive. We are not to be afraid. Fear is the opposite of faith.
We know that activity in the Church centers in the family. Wherever members are in the world, they should establish a family where children are welcome and treasured as “an heritage of the Lord” (Psalm 127:3). A worthy Latter-day Saint family is a standard to the world.
Not only are we to maintain the highest of standards, but each of us is to be a standard, a defense, a refuge. We are to “let [our] light so shine before men, that they may see [our] good works, and glorify [our] Father which is in heaven” (Matthew 5:16; see also 3 Nephi 12:16).
All the struggles and exertions of past generations have brought to us in our day the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the authority to administer, and the wherewithal to accomplish the ministry. It all comes together in this dispensation of the fulness of times, in the which the consummation of all things will be completed and the earth prepared for the coming of the Lord.
We are as much a part of this work as were those men who untied that yellow bandana from Willard Richards’s walking stick and descended from Ensign Peak. That bandana, waved aloft, signaled the great gathering which had been prophesied in ancient and modern scriptures.
We speak of the Church as our refuge, our defense. There is safety and protection in the Church. It centers in the gospel of Jesus Christ. Latter-day Saints learn to look within themselves to see the redeeming power of the Savior of all mankind. The principles of the gospel taught in the Church and learned from the scriptures become a guide for each of us individually and for our families.
We know that the homes we establish, and those of our descendants, will be the refuge spoken of in the revelations—the “light,” the “standard,” the “ensign” for all nations, and the “refuge” against the gathering storms (see D&C 115:5–6; Isaiah 11:12; 2 Nephi 21:12).
The ensign to which all of us are to rally is Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Only Begotten of the Father, whose Church this is and whose name we bear and whose authority we carry.
We look forward with faith. We have seen many events in our lifetime, and many will yet occur that will tax our courage and extend our faith. We are to “rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great [will be our] reward in heaven” (Matthew 5:12).
Willingly defend the history of the Church, and do “not [be] ashamed of the gospel of [Jesus] Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth” (Romans 1:16).
We will face the challenges, for we cannot avoid them, and teach the gospel of Jesus Christ and teach of Him as our Savior and our Refuge, our Redeemer.
If a well-worn yellow bandana was good enough to be an ensign to the world, then ordinary men who hold the priesthood and ordinary women and ordinary children in ordinary families, living the gospel as best they can all over the world, can shine forth as a standard, a defense, a refuge against whatever is to be poured out upon the earth.
“We talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophesy of Christ, and we write according to our prophecies, that our children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins” (2 Nephi 25:26).
This Church will prosper. It will prevail. Of this I am absolutely certain. I bear this testimony in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I recently had an insightful conversation with a 15-year-old Aaronic Priesthood holder. He helped me understand how easy it is in this Internet age for young people to almost inadvertently be exposed to impure and even pornographic images. He pointed out that for most principles the Church teaches, there is at least some recognition in society at large that violating these principles can have devastating effects on health and well-being. He mentioned cigarette smoking, drug use, and alcohol consumption by young people. But he noted that there is no corresponding outcry or even a significant warning from society at large about pornography or immorality.

My dear brothers and sisters, this young man’s analysis is correct. What is the answer? For years, prophets and apostles have taught the importance of religious observance in the home.

Parents, the days are long past when regular, active participation in Church meetings and programs, though essential, can fulfill your sacred responsibility to teach your children to live moral, righteous lives and walk uprightly before the Lord. With President Monson’s announcement this morning, it is essential that this be faithfully accomplished in homes which are places of refuge where kindness, forgiveness, truth, and righteousness prevail. Parents must have the courage to filter or monitor Internet access, television, movies, and music. Parents must have the courage to say no, defend truth, and bear powerful testimony. Your children need to know that you have faith in the Savior, love your Heavenly Father, and sustain the leaders of the Church. Spiritual maturity must flourish in our homes. My hope is that no one will leave this conference without understanding that the moral issues of our day must be addressed in the family. Bishops and priesthood and auxiliary leaders need to support families and make sure that spiritual principles are taught. Home and visiting teachers can assist, especially with children of single parents.

The young man I mentioned earnestly asked if the Apostles knew how early in life teaching and protecting against pornography and impure thoughts should start. With emphasis, he stated that in some areas even before youth graduate from Primary is not too early.

Youth who have been exposed to immoral images at a very early age are terrified that they may have already disqualified themselves for missionary service and sacred covenants. As a result, their faith can be severely impaired. I want to assure you young people, as Alma taught, that through repentance you can qualify for all the blessings of heaven. That is what the Savior’s Atonement is all about. Please talk with your parents or a trusted adviser, and counsel with your bishop.

An active youth committee in Cache Valley made it their project to take care of the aged and shut-ins. Each week the girls would prepare suppers and the boys would prepare lessons or activities to take to the homes of the unfortunate, giving them plenty of tender loving care in a family home evening situation. What do you think it did for those young people to be involved in such a worthy, compassionate service?
Deep desire to be of service and to demonstrate love can even benefit the bishop. In Sacramento, California, while the bishop was away on vacation with his family, the youth committee determined to paint his house. These young people had the time of their lives working together and anticipating the pleasant surprise of the bishop when he returned. A real bond of love was established between the youth and their bishop with such meaningful service.

Promised blessings vary from person to person according to need. Sometimes it may even seem that the blessings promised could not ever be fulfilled, but we need to remember that our Heavenly Father sees things from a different perspective than we do. For example, Elder Thomas S. Monson, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, tells this story:
“Several years ago a patriarch gave a blessing to a teenage girl … who lived in Poland. In the blessing he felt impressed to promise her that she would marry in a temple of the Lord. He hesitated to give that promise, for there was absolutely no way for her to leave Poland allowing her to marry in a temple. But he responded to the whisperings of the Spirit and gave the girl the promise.
“After giving the blessing, the patriarch came to my office and asked, ‘Did I do the right thing?’ I indicated that a man always does the right thing when he responds to the whisperings of the Holy Spirit. He said, ‘But I have bestowed a promise which cannot be fulfilled.’ I replied, ‘Let us trust in the Lord with all our hearts …’ Within a period of two years, a pact was signed between Poland and Germany that permitted those of Germanic origin to return to West Germany. That lovely teenage girl moved to Germany where she would be free to go to the temple of the Lord when the time came for her marriage.” (Scandinavian Area Conference, August 1976, page 10.)

When I joined the Church in Taiwan as a teenager, paying tithing was not difficult because I had little income. After I graduated and began working, it became a little harder. There were always so many things to buy and so little money to buy them with. But each year at tithing settlement, I could honestly tell the branch president that I had paid a full tithe.
Then last year my mother had to be admitted to the hospital intensive care unit. I was sorely worried about my mother and also about how we would pay for her care. The following Sunday I remembered I hadn’t yet paid my tithing that month. Thinking I would need all my money to pay the hospital, I decided to put off paying my tithing until the next week. As Sunday approached once again, a small voice reminded me that the Lord has promised to open the windows of heaven when we pay tithing. “Now is the time to give my faith a test,” I thought.
I withdrew some money from the bank and placed it in a tithing envelope. I felt a little hesitant, but summoning my courage, I gave the envelope to my branch president. Although I felt reluctant to let go of the envelope, I decided to leave the matter in God’s hands.
Just a week later, I received a telephone call informing me that our insurance company would soon be sending a check. “For how much?” I asked. The amount was many times more than the tithing I had paid. I know that when we are faithful, God will never forsake us.
Lu Chia, BYU Chinese Ward, Brigham Young University Sixth Stake

My daughter’s funeral was beautiful. There was a lot of laughter mixed with tears, and the Spirit was very much present. My oldest daughter, Victoria, traveled back to Utah from another state. She wrote a song and performed it at the funeral.
I was never approached about the funeral costs except to be informed it was being handled. Within a few weeks the funeral had been paid in full by donations from Church members.

The Taylorsville Utah West Stake presented an original musical for their Heritage Arts Festival. For weeks a 60-voice chorus practiced diligently, while Scouts whooped it up square dancing. Backstage the set designer sloshed paint on canvas and the makeup committee practiced mass-production mascara application. “The Heritage of Our Future” played two nights to packed audiences. The drama dealt with the influence a young girl’s heritage has on her decision to not marry a nonmember and how that decision affects her future.

This important truth was evidenced some years ago as a member of the Seventy was on assignment in Hong Kong. He visited a very humble ward that was struggling in many ways, unable to provide for its own needs. As the bishop described their situation, the General Authority felt the impression to have the members pay their tithing. The bishop, knowing their dire circumstances, was concerned about how he could carry out that counsel. He thought about it and decided he would approach some of the most faith-filled members of his ward and ask them to pay their tithing. The next Sunday he went to the Primary. He taught the children about the Lord’s law of tithing and asked if they would be willing to pay tithing on the money they earned. The children said they would. And they did.
The bishop later went to the adults in the ward and shared with them that for the past six months their faithful children had been paying tithing. He asked them if they would be willing to follow the example of these children and do the same. The people were so touched by the sacrifices the children were willing to make that they did what was necessary to pay their tithing. And the windows of heaven were opened. With the example of these faithful children, a ward grew in obedience and in testimony.

Well, you may well understand, the second day I stood up to bat, I was not so confident as before. The same bowler stood opposite me and began that mind-bending warm-up. He threw a fast ball with a spin so wild that it hit the ground and bounced off, knocking me over to the left of the wicket with a force so hard I almost fell down.
The next thing I knew, everybody was yelling “Howzat?” to the umpire—the standard query for an umpire decision. Unless that is said, the umpire will remain silent the whole game. As far as I was concerned, he should have kept quiet, for I saw, unbelievably, the letters “L.B.W.” come to his lips. I was next to him in a minute to argue the decision.
It was then that I learned another important lesson about the game and the British character. It was Trevor who rushed to my side to inform me, “No player ever disputes an umpire’s decision once it’s been made.”
“You mean you can’t beef about a lousy decision?” I complained.
“Of course not,” Trevor said in a matter-of-fact voice. “That just wouldn’t be cricket.”
I had to admit he had me there. As I hobbled off the field (suspecting that the name of the game came from that grasshopperlike animal, the cricket, which is the only creature physically equipped with the muscles necessary to avoid getting hit with a L.B.W.), I vowed that never again would I make fun of something I knew nothing about.
The next day I was as cheerful as ever and persuaded the boys to play a game of rounders—from which, of course, I arose the hero. However, I was quiet about my laurels. After all, no sense in becoming a sticky wicket about it.

Several years ago one of my favorite articles of clothing was a khaki-colored pair of cotton slacks my parents gave me one year for Christmas. I wore them almost every chance I got.
One afternoon I happened to have them on while working in the computer lab of the BYU Harold B. Lee Library with the freshman English class I taught. Sitting at the terminal, I had the misfortune of pressing my leg up against the underside of the computer table and feeling myself come into contact with something sticky. As I drew my leg slowly away from the table, I saw that my favorite pair of slacks was attached to the table by a strand of freshly deposited, pink Hubba Bubba bubble gum. It stretched, like a suspension bridge, between the blob of gum beneath the table to the blob of gum resting just above the right knee of my slacks.
In near panic I tore my slacks from the offending gum and then did my best to tear the offending gum from my slacks. I succeeded in getting most of the Hubba, but not all of the Bubba, off. There remained, firmly entrenched in the intricate cotton weave, a sticky stain of an unmistakably gray-pink about the size of a quarter.
I quickly dismissed my class and, using my briefcase as a shield to cover up the stain, hurried across campus to my car, and raced home for help. “My wife will know what to do,” I thought. “After all, she’s had a lot more experience with laundry-related emergencies than I have.” And I was right. “You’d better take them to the dry cleaner and pray he can get the gum out,” she urged. “But don’t get your hopes up.”
I followed her advice and took the slacks to the dry cleaner. I was told they would be ready in a week.
It wasn’t easy waiting. I was always reaching for the slacks that weren’t there. I worried that they had been irreversibly damaged and that modern dry-cleaning technology might not be up to the task.
At the end of the specified cleaning time I got my slacks back, miraculously minus the Hubba Bubba, with not even a hint that they had ever been in a gum fight. I was overjoyed. I had my favorite slacks—the prodigal ones—back again. Had I a fatted calf, I would have been tempted to kill it, but settled, instead, on wearing my slacks to church the next day.
After my experience with the bubble gum, I have been much more careful with my slacks, avoiding doing anything that might cause them a stain or a tear. I have taken particular care, before sitting down at any desk or table, to first check for a Hubba Bubba booby-trap. But I have found that no matter what I do to protect them, the slacks still get a little dirty—with nothing as serious as the gum, of course—but dirty nonetheless, and I have had to make sure they are cleaned regularly to keep them free from stains and looking good.

CeLisa Wathen of the Virginia Branch, Minnesota Minneapolis Mission, was selected as SnoWeek Princess at her junior high school. This was special to CeLisa since she was nominated just two weeks after moving to Minnesota from American Fork, Utah.

For CeLisa it was interesting to move from a school that had predominately LDS students to one where she is one of two members of the Church in the student body. But after her selection as princess, most of the school knew of her beliefs.

This wasn’t the first time William faced such a choice. Just a few years earlier, when he was 18, William’s music career was just taking off. Then came the choice to set it aside for two years to serve a mission. For William, standing up for the right plays an even bigger role in his life than music—and that’s saying something.
Trained as a classical pianist, William displayed incredible talent as a performer and composer early on. He didn’t come from a musical home, but his parents recognized his interest in piano at the age of four, and from then on music became his refuge, creative outlet, and almost constant companion.
He began performing publicly at age 12 and was well known for his talent in his hometown of Phoenix, Arizona, by the time he was 18. That’s when William faced his first major choice between right and wrong.
“I was very into music in high school, and I always just thought a mission was not for me,” William says.
Then he was asked to play the piano in sacrament meeting at his cousin’s ward. He says at the time he wasn’t feeling the Spirit strongly in his life and was only going to Church out of respect for his parents. He says, “I showed up, and I remember seeing a couple there, and they were just glowing. I couldn’t stop looking at them, they were so happy.”
William overheard the couple discussing how they had just been sealed in the temple the day before. He says, “I was just awestruck by how happy they seemed and how righteous they looked. I thought to myself, ‘I want that; I want to marry a righteous girl in the temple.’”
But given the current strength of his testimony, William had doubts about the possibility of his goal. “I thought, ‘How will I ever do that? Someone like that would only want a returned missionary.’ And right when I thought that, it hit me. It was overwhelming. All of a sudden, music didn’t matter; my career didn’t matter; nothing mattered. And I knew for sure that’s what I had to do. I needed to go on a mission, and I’d be blessed if I did.”
William says he recognized the change that had taken place in him by the music he was drawn to. “After that meeting, after that incredible, spiritual experience, I got in my car, and I had this rock music blasting. That music felt so disruptive, so loud and just ugly and wrong. That was the experience that changed my life.”

Another trait that characterizes Brother Rivera is his love of the scriptures. In addition to the Word of Wisdom, it is the scriptures to which he attributes his added vitality and energy in life. “I try to read the scriptures every day,” he says. “Even with my many years, I still have a lot to learn, so I continue to study, to wrap myself in the gospel of Jesus Christ. I want to be a little better every day.”
Héctor says he sees his father reading the scriptures constantly. “In the morning when I wake up I find him reading the Book of Mormon, the Church magazines, and other Church books. Then when I go to bed at night, I see him in his room again, reading the same things. Every time I see this I marvel. When I saw how much he loved the scriptures, I began to read the Book of Mormon myself.”

My wife and I were recently blessed to serve as mission leaders to labor with the outstanding missionaries in Uruguay. I would say that these were the best missionaries in the world, and I trust that every mission leader feels that way. These disciples taught us every day about following the Savior.
During regular interviews one of our great sister missionaries walked into the office. She was a successful missionary, an excellent trainer, and a dedicated leader. She was looked up to by her companions and loved by the people. She was obedient, humble, and confident. Our previous visits focused on her area and the people she was teaching. This visit was different. As I asked her how she was doing, I could tell she was troubled. She said, “President Olsen, I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I will ever be good enough. I don’t know if I can be the missionary that the Lord needs me to be.”
She was a remarkable missionary. Excellent in every way. A mission president’s dream. I had never worried about her abilities as a missionary.
As I listened to her, I struggled to know what to say. I silently prayed: “Heavenly Father, this is an outstanding missionary. She is Yours. She is doing everything right. I don’t want to mess this up. Please help me know what to say.”
The words came to me. I said, “Hermana, I am so sorry you are feeling this way. Let me ask you a question. If you had a friend you were teaching who felt this way, what would you say?”
She looked at me and smiled. With that unmistakable missionary spirit and conviction, she said, “President, that is easy. I would tell her that the Savior knows her perfectly. I would tell her that He lives. He loves you. You are good enough, and you’ve got this!”
With a little chuckle she said, “I guess if that applies to our friends, then it also applies to me.”

Before joining the Church, Elder Helio da Rocha Camargo from Brazil was a minister in another religion. He was seriously investigating the Church when he visited a youth meeting one Saturday morning. He was interested in what the young people of our Church had to say. One young lady bore her testimony about being morally clean and the strength she had received from living the law of chastity. Her testimony and the testimony of others greatly impressed Helio Camargo. He and his wife joined the Church. Brother Camargo’s testimony and commitment were great. The Lord called him to be a bishop, a stake president, a mission president, a regional representative, a member of the Seventy, and a temple president.

I suppose there are some things in life that we would never get used to. I am reminded of an experience that happened many years ago while I was a young missionary. Between the north and south islands of New Zealand is a very rough body of water known as Cook Strait. Out in this rough water are many small and beautiful islands. On D‘Urville Island lived a large group of wonderful Maori people who were members of the Church. They were in an excellent branch of the Church and lived the gospel well. All were related to one another and were mainly professional fishermen.

President Matthew Cowley, my mission president, and I left Wellington on the steamer that sailed between the two islands. It was a rather large ship carrying up to 600 passengers. The only way for a passenger to get off the ship anywhere near D’Urville Island was to climb down a rope ladder lowered from the side of the ship at about two o’clock in the morning. This little maneuver didn’t frighten me too much until the time to perform it approached.

It was a dark night with no moon and few stars. As the ship slowed down to stop, President Cowley and I could see off in the distance a little light bobbing up and down in the water. It was a lantern held by one of the Maori men who was rowing out to pick us up. As it got closer, we could tell that the water was very rough.

Finally the boat was right under us and we could look over the railing and see them. Then we heard one of them shout for us to come down. The deck steward on the ship opened a gate in the railing and threw down the rope ladder. I looked down into the water that dark night, turned to President Cowley, and said, “You are the mission president. You go first.” He looked down that rope ladder into the darkness of the night and said, “I am the mission president. You go first.”

Fearfully, yet bravely, I started down the ladder. Never in my life had I ever climbed a rope ladder more than two or three rungs long. The first and second steps were easy because I could still feel that I was near the side of the ship. But the farther down I went, the farther the ladder hung away from the side of the ship. After I had gone down about six steps I felt very much alone and was hanging on for dear life, praying with each step.

I think that in the darkness of that night, thousands of miles away from home, I learned how to pray all over again. I was frightened, but I hung on and slowly and carefully took it one step at a time. Finally a large Maori hand grabbed me by the ankle, and a voice assured me, “You’ve made it!” I managed to get into the rowboat and put on a raincoat to keep from getting wet.

I sat down and relaxed. Then I looked up the long rope ladder to watch my wonderful mission president begin to climb down. I am sure he prayed just as hard as I did, and finally he made it into the boat. We were then with friends, feeling safe and secure. In a short while we were on dry land on D‘Urville Island. The whole branch was out to greet us in the middle of the night.

Several times while we were there, I thought of that rope ladder. I thought, That is something no one would ever get used to doing. You could never take that downward trip for granted. But doing it over and over would make it easier and possibly less frightening.

When our visit was over and it came time for us to return to the North Island it dawned on me that we needed to climb up that ladder. I discovered that a climb like that would be just as dangerous and treacherous as the climb down. This would require practically the same amount of prayer and effort.

I will never forget that one dark night in the islands of the sea. It was a most unusual and unique experience in my life.

A positive and happy attitude is indispensable for people working in sales, as I do. Yet several years ago I was feeling discouraged and had no desire to talk to anyone. This was especially true one afternoon.
My countenance must have betrayed my poor spirits because one of my co-workers, with whom I had talked on many occasions, inquired about my situation. I explained that after being married for six years, my wife and I had divorced. This month marked the six-year anniversary of the divorce, so I had now been divorced for the same amount of time I had been married. My mind and heart were troubled, and my soul was filled with pain and sorrow. I knew I was missing many of my children’s experiences, and that realization was constant torture. Loneliness consumed me, and I saw no solution—or even hope—on the horizon. This, I told my co-worker, was the price I had to pay for my mistakes.
My colleague, who was a member of another Christian church, then responded. “What price are you talking about?” he asked. “Jesus Christ has paid the price, if you have truly repented of your sins. Or do you not remember why He came to earth?”
I was astonished by his reply, and his words left me speechless. They resonated inside me all afternoon. Yes—even though I lived with the consequences of my mistakes, Jesus Christ had paid the price. Why had I not realized this? I knew the doctrine, and I knew that it was true. Recognizing that the Atonement had power in my life filled me with a feeling of peace and comfort that I still remember today.
Years have passed since this experience at work. I have learned that some consequences of our actions remain with us all of our lives. Many of them affect the lives of our loved ones. The loneliness has not been easy, but it has helped me recognize my weaknesses and ask forgiveness of my Heavenly Father and the people who were most affected—my children and their mother.
In contrast with how I felt that afternoon, I can say that I now have peace and hope. I know that Jesus Christ has paid the price, and I have no doubt of this because I have repented. He has sustained me during these years of trials. Although my trials continue, I know that as I repent, turn to the Lord, and keep the commandments, He will continue to sustain me.

I was excited when my eldest daughter said she also wanted to serve a mission. Every week in the mission field, she sent me stories of her work. Her testimony inspired me and filled me with the missionary spirit. I prayed for missionary opportunities every day.
One day, I was inspired to ask a friend through a private message on social media if she would be interested in meeting with the missionaries. She said, “Yes!” I filled out an online referral form on LDS.org, and soon the missionaries began to teach her. In three months she joined the Church. Her children followed a few months later. As the Spirit directed me, I invited other friends to listen to the missionaries. When my daughter came home, I too felt that I had completed 18 months of missionary service.

That fall the children all came down with strep throat. We gave them antibiotics, and soon everybody was fine except for Jesse. His cough wouldn’t go away, and his neck became swollen. Pat took him to the pediatrician for what we thought would be a second antibiotic.
Two hours later Pat called from the hospital. The pediatrician had sent Jesse there for an X-ray to check for infection in his lungs. Instead, doctors found an 11-inch tumor in his chest.
“Go home, get your family packed up, head to Birmingham, and prepare for a lengthy stay,” the doctor said.
A few days after we arrived at the children’s hospital in Birmingham, we received Jesse’s diagnosis. He had pediatric acute lymphoblastic leukemia, a rare type of aggressive leukemia.
For the next three weeks, Pat and I lived at the hospital. While I zoned in on Jesse, Pat made the 90-minute drive back and forth from our home to the hospital. He tried to keep our business going and care for our goats. My mother-in-law came from California and stayed with our other children.
Jesse’s tumor had begun to cut off his airways, but it shrank after six weeks of chemotherapy. We thought that once the cancer went into remission, it would be an easy road ahead, but then Jesse got a blood clot in his brain. After doctors dealt with that, he got fungal pneumonia. He was in and out of the hospital seven times over the next several months.
In December 2015, while Jesse was back in the hospital, I began reading the Book of Mormon. I thought, “I left the Church, and I just want to rule it out like I’ve ruled out all the other churches.” But right away, it hit me like a ton of bricks—full peace. The book just spoke to me. I didn’t even have to pray to find out it was true. I knew in my heart it was true from the very beginning. I would read for hours sitting in that hospital room.
At one point, Jesse spiked a fever, which lasted for 10 days. It wouldn’t break, and doctors decided they needed to do a bone marrow biopsy to see if the leukemia had returned. I remember lying on the floor of the hospital. I had reached bottom. That’s when I decided to call Elaine Oborn, a member of our ward while I was growing up in Alabama.
I had been best friends with Sister Oborn’s daughter. Though I hadn’t spoken to the Oborn family for 20 years, I couldn’t get Elaine’s face out of my mind. I looked her up on Facebook, and there on the hospital floor, I called her.
“Do you even remember me?” I asked.
After explaining what our family was experiencing, I told Sister Oborn: “I don’t know what I need, but I need something. I’m not active in the Church. We don’t even have a church, but I keep thinking of you. Please, can you help me?”
“We can start by getting you and Jesse a blessing,” she said. She said her husband, Lynn, would come to the hospital that evening.
After the phone call, I told Pat, “I know you’re not a member of the Church, but can we have some guys come and give Jesse a blessing?”
“Whatever it takes for him to feel better,” he said.
That evening, in came Brother Oborn with two full-time missionaries, all dressed in white medical protective clothing because Jesse was so sick.
“The angels are coming for us,” I remember thinking as I opened the door.
They gave Jesse a blessing. Then Brother Oborn lined up all the kids and gave each of them a blessing. Then he gave me a blessing. Then he gave Pat a blessing. That was one of the first experiences where we all felt the Spirit. It was powerful. The next day, Jesse’s fever broke. As soon as he was released from the hospital, we started attending church.
In February 2016, the full-time missionaries began visiting us. At first Pat thought they were coming over to help on the farm. When we accepted an invitation for them to teach us, he thought the lessons were just for the children.
As the missionaries were preparing to teach us their first lesson, Pat went out to work on the tractor. After about 20 minutes, I could see that they—two sisters and two elders—were deflated. At that moment, I felt that I should get Pat and ask him to come listen for a couple of minutes.
Later the missionaries told me that they had been praying that that’s what I would do. They knew that Pat needed to hear what they were teaching.
After the missionaries had taught us for several weeks, Jesse, Bo, and Frank wanted to be baptized. Pat thought that was great, but he felt that he was “beyond salvation.” That was before he met Von and Glenda Memory and heard Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles speak during general conference.
When we saw Brother Memory at church, I recognized him from when I was a child. He was now serving as the ward mission leader. Pat introduced himself, telling Brother Memory that he really wanted the Church for our children.
“That sounds good,” Brother Memory said with a twinkle in his eye. “We’ll do it for the children.”
A few weeks later, after a lesson from the missionaries on the plan of salvation, Brother Memory said, “Boys, we’re going to talk about your baptism.” Then he added, “And then we’re going to talk about your dad’s baptism.”
Pat said OK, but his doubts about his readiness and worthiness persisted until general conference that April.
“You may be afraid, angry, grieving, or tortured by doubt,” Elder Uchtdorf said in his talk. “But just as the Good Shepherd finds His lost sheep, if you will only lift up your heart to the Savior of the world, He will find you.”1
Pat said: “Before then, it hadn’t occurred to me that I really could be a part of this, that I was worthy of salvation. But after listening to Elder Uchtdorf, it hit me that it wasn’t too late for me. I actually have a shot to get to heaven. I had never felt anything like that. From then on I knew. This is the Savior’s Church. We found it. I got baptized and received the priesthood. A week later I baptized my boys. When our girls were old enough, I baptized them.”
A year later, we were sealed in the Birmingham Alabama Temple.
Living the gospel of Jesus Christ as members of His Church has strengthened our marriage. It has made me a better mom. It has given our kids a foundation they never would have had. We’re confident about their futures, now that they have the Church in their lives.
I’m so grateful for everything that has happened and for all the lessons I’ve learned. I think it was important for me to go through a lot of stuff, a lot of mental anguish. I needed to be humbled, feel desperate for God’s help and love and forgiveness, and forgive myself of wrongdoings earlier in my life.
Jesse completed chemotherapy and his last round of steroids in March 2019. We would be devastated if his cancer returned, but now we have an eternal perspective. Now we’re sealed as a family. I can’t imagine ever not having the Church as my go-to for everything. The gospel has changed us forever.
Whatever happens, it’s going to be OK. We’re not afraid anymore. Jesse’s illness led to the best thing that ever happened to us. It brought us to the Savior’s Church.