Gospel Story Finder

Elder Rod Badger writes from Brazil that the miracle the gospel works in the lives of people has been his greatest eye-opener since arriving in the field. “Add that to the real love you feel for people a lot older than you, and you have the essence of missionary joy. We’ve come to love Victor Colletti who is eighty-two and was the third person baptized in his village. Since then he’s learned to read and write and has been instrumental in bringing twenty-seven people into the Church. He still spends two or three days a week doing tracting. He’s a real help to us missionaries”

The moment I decided to be a teacher is very clear in my mind. During World War II, I was in my early 20s and a pilot in the Air Force. I was stationed on the little island of Ie Shima. This island, a small, lonely one about as big as a postage stamp, is just off the northern tip of Okinawa.
One lonely summer evening, I sat on a cliff to watch the sun go down. I was pondering what I would do with my life after the war, if I was fortunate enough to survive. What did I want to be? It was on that night that I decided I wanted to be a teacher. I reasoned that teachers are always learning. Learning is a basic purpose of life.
I first taught seminary in 1949 in Brigham City. I had been a student in that seminary in my high school days.
There were three courses originally taught in seminary: Old Testament, New Testament, and Church History. It was my privilege to add an early-morning class on the Book of Mormon. I had returned from the war with a testimony of the Book of Mormon and an understanding of how the gift of the Holy Ghost operates.
You have been taught all of your lives about the gift of the Holy Ghost, but teaching can only go so far. You can and, in fact, you must go the rest of the way alone to discover within yourself how the Holy Ghost can be a guiding and protective influence.
For young men and young women, the process is the same. Discovering how the Holy Ghost operates in your life is the quest of a lifetime. Once you have made that discovery for yourself, you can live in enemy territory and will not be deceived or destroyed. No member of this Church—and that means each of you—will ever make a serious mistake without first being warned by the promptings of the Holy Ghost.
Sometimes when you have made a mistake, you may have said afterward, “I knew I should not have done that. It did not feel right,” or perhaps, “I knew I should have done that. I just did not have the courage to act!” Those impressions are the Holy Ghost attempting to direct you toward good or warning you away from harm.
There are certain things that you must not do if the lines of communication are to remain open. You cannot lie or cheat or steal or act immorally and have those channels remain free from disruption. Do not go where the environment resists spiritual communication.
You must learn to seek the power and direction that is available to you, and then follow that course no matter what.
First on your “to do” list, put the word prayer. Most of the time, your prayers will be silent. You can think a prayer.
You can always have a direct line of communication with your Father in Heaven. Do not allow the adversary to convince you that no one is listening on the other end. Your prayers are always heard. You are never alone!
Take care of your body. Be clean. “Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you?” (1 Corinthians 3:16).
Read carefully the promises found in section 89 of the Doctrine and Covenants. The Word of Wisdom does not promise perfect health but that the spiritual receptors within you might be strengthened.
Stay away from tattoos and similar things which deface your body. Your body was created in God’s image.
I want to speak now in the pattern of straight talk about another matter.
We know that gender was set in the premortal world.1 “The spirit and the body are the soul of man” (D&C 88:15). This matter of gender is of great concern to the Brethren, as are all matters of morality.
A few of you may have felt or been told that you were born with troubling feelings and that you are not guilty if you act on those temptations. Doctrinally we know that if that were true, your agency would have been erased, and that cannot happen. You always have a choice to follow the promptings of the Holy Ghost and live a morally pure and chaste life, one filled with virtue.
President Gordon B. Hinckley announced the following in general conference: “People inquire about our position on those who consider themselves … gays and lesbians. My response is that we love them as sons and daughters of God. They may have certain inclinations which are powerful and which may be difficult to control. Most people have [temptations] of one kind or another at various times. If they do not act upon these inclinations, then they can go forward as do all other members of the Church. If they violate the law of chastity and the moral standards of the Church, then they are subject to the discipline of the Church, just as others are.
“We want to help … strengthen them, to assist them with their problems and to help them with their difficulties. But we cannot stand idle if they indulge in immoral activity, if they try to uphold and defend and live in a so-called same-sex marriage situation. To permit such would be to make light of the very serious and sacred foundation of God-sanctioned marriage and its very purpose, the rearing of families.”2
President Hinckley was speaking for the Church.
The first gift that Adam and Eve received was agency: “Thou mayest choose for thyself, for it is given unto thee” (Moses 3:17).
You have that same agency. Use it wisely to deny acting on any impure impulse or unholy temptation that may come into your mind. Just do not go there, and if you are already there, come back out of it. “Deny yourselves of all ungodliness” (Moroni 10:32).
Do not tamper with the life-giving powers in your body alone or with members of either gender. That is the standard of the Church, and it will not change. As you mature, there is a temptation to experiment or explore immoral activities. Do not do that!
The key word is discipline—self-discipline. The word discipline comes from the word disciple or follower. Be a disciple-follower of the Savior, and you will be safe.
One or two of you may be thinking, “I am already guilty of this or that serious mistake. It is too late for me.” It is never too late.
You have been taught at home and in seminary about the Atonement of Jesus Christ. The Atonement is like an eraser. It can wipe away guilt and the effect of whatever it is that is causing you to feel guilty.
Guilt is spiritual pain. Do not suffer from chronic pain. Get rid of it. Be done with it. Repent and, if necessary, repent again and again and again and again until you—not the enemy—are in charge of you.
Life turns out to be a succession of trials and errors. Add “repent often” to your list of things to do. This will bring you lasting peace that cannot be purchased at any earthly price. Understanding the Atonement may be the one most important truth that you can learn in your youth.
If you are associating with others who drag you down instead of building you up, stop and change company. You may be alone and lonely at times. The important question may be asked then, “When you are alone, are you in good company?”
Unwinding a habit that you have allowed to entangle you can be difficult. But the power is in you. Do not despair. The Prophet Joseph Smith taught that “all beings who have bodies have power over those who have not.”3 You can resist temptation!
It is not likely that you will ever have a personal encounter with the adversary; he does not show himself that way. But even if he came personally to you to test and tempt you, you have an advantage. You can assert your agency, and he will have to leave you alone.
You are not ordinary. You are very special. You are exceptional. How do I know that? I know that because you were born at a time and in a place where the gospel of Jesus Christ can come into your life through the teachings and activities of your home and of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It is, as the Lord Himself has said, “the only true and living church upon the face of the whole earth” (D&C 1:30).
There are other things we could add to the list, but you know what you should and should not be doing in your life. You know right and wrong and do not need to be commanded in all things.
Do not squander these years of seminary instruction. Take advantage of the great blessing you have to learn the doctrines of the Church and the teachings of the prophets. Learn that which is of most worth. It will bless you and your posterity for many generations to come.
Not many years will pass until you are married and have children, a marriage that should be sealed in the temple. Our prayer is that you will find yourself, in due time, safely settled in a family ward or branch.
Do not fear the future. Go forward with hope and faith. Remember that supernal gift of the Holy Ghost. Learn to be taught by it. Learn to seek it. Learn to live by it. Learn to pray always in the name of Jesus Christ (see 3 Nephi 18:19–20). The Spirit of the Lord will attend you, and you will be blessed.
We have deep and profound faith in you.
I bear my testimony to you—a witness that came to me in my youth. And you are no different from anyone else than I am. You have as much right to that testimony and witness as anyone. It will come to you if you earn it. I invoke the blessings of the Lord upon you—the blessings of that witness to be in your life, to guide you as you make a happy future.

When I was a young boy, our garage and the neighbor’s garage were about five feet apart. The neighbor’s garage was very old and dilapidated, and some of the boards were breaking. I, on occasion, would climb onto our garage and jump from one garage to the other and play on top of them. My father had told me, “Stay off the garages,” but I didn’t. One time when I was playing on them, I jumped from our garage and fell through the roof of the neighbor’s garage, scraping my back and legs badly. Because I had been disobedient, I foolishly decided not to tell anyone that I had hurt myself. I went in the house and washed the scrapes and scratches as well as I could, but I couldn’t reach the ones on my back to put antiseptic on them or even wash them clean. I bore the burden of pain, worry over infection setting in, and guilt for several days while the healing process took place. I learned that when you are disobedient and don’t repent, you often have to carry your burdens all by yourself!

Young Edward eagerly climbed up the apple tree. The higher he went the more the branches swayed. But Edward wasn’t concerned about the swaying branches. He didn’t notice the blue jays or the nervous twittering of the sparrows. His thoughts were centered on apples—the sweetest, juiciest apples that could be found only near the very top of the tree. And only the best apples would do for their special guest—the Prophet Joseph Smith.
The Prophet Joseph! Edward could hardly believe that right now the Prophet was sitting in their house, talking with his mother, and complimenting her on the wonderful meal she had just served.
Ever since he had heard the news that the Prophet Joseph was coming to Pontiac, Michigan, Edward had been excited. And when he later learned that the Prophet was going to have a meal in their home, his excitement was almost unbearable.
Earlier that morning Edward had helped his mother take out the rug and beat it. He cleaned out the fireplace, polished his mother’s prized mirror, and dusted the bookcase. When the work was done, he began strutting about and looking very pleased with himself.
“Edward Stevenson,” his mother said. “I know you’re excited, but you shouldn’t give in to pride.”
“But, Mother, it isn’t every day that we get a visit from the Prophet.”
“True enough. Still, you must think of the Prophet’s visit as more of a blessing than an honor.”
“All right, Mother. I’ll try.”
Edward kept looking at the clock and wishing time would go by faster. Finally, the Prophet appeared at the door. Edward, who was small for his thirteen years, looked up in awe at their six-foot-tall guest. A local church leader who was with the Prophet introduced him to the “Widow Stevenson” and Edward. Joseph bent down, offered Edward a robust handshake and said, “Hello there, Bub.”
Edward had never been called anything but his given name, so the casual nickname startled him. But when he thought about who had given it to him, he cherished it.
As they enjoyed a meal of roast duck, pork, potatoes, and beans, the Prophet held everyone—especially Edward—spellbound as he told stories about the Church and the Book of Mormon. Then Edward excused himself, dashed outside, and hurried up the apple tree with a tin pail in hand. When the branches became so thin they could barely support his weight, Edward plucked large golden apples until the pail was full. Then he climbed down and ran back into the house.
“These are for you, President Smith,” Edward said, presenting the pail to the Prophet.
“Thanks, Bub. I’ll take a couple, then we’ll pass them around for everyone.”
Soon the house was filled with the happy crunching sound of apples. “Bub, this is one of the finest apples I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating,” the Prophet said.
Later, Edward wrote in his journal, “Oh! how my heart swelled with delightful emotions of heavenly love, as I selected and presented to him [the Prophet] some of our choice apples in exchange for the golden nuggets of celestial truth.”

Making the right choice was not always easy. My father and mother had a difficult time providing for their large family, so those of us who were old enough did our best to help out. When I was eighteen years old, I needed to buy a pair of pants, but after sharing my salary with my family, all I had left was the exact amount I owed in tithing. I was tempted to spend that tithing money for those pants, but I paid my tithing, and during the next week I got an extra job that allowed me to buy the pants.

My mother, who turned 93 last week, always emphasized that the public and private persons needed to be the same. When I was a little girl, I went to a store for my mother. In my purse, I had money and a list of things I was to get. The storekeeper took the list, and once I received the items, I handed her the money. I was then given some change and a receipt. I returned home where my mother checked everything. One time, I had received too much money back. Mother took me to the store with the extra money. When the storekeeper laughed, Mother informed her that my integrity was not for sale for a few coins then or for millions when I grew up. Once I tried to get away with something by saying, “But everyone else does it.” That didn’t work. This tiny woman said that I was not just everybody; I was a member of Hannonen family and a citizen of Finland. Once we were converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, she added “Mormon” to the list. “Remember who you are” has played in my mind before there were iPads or iPods, MP3 players, and truthfully, before there were computers, electric typewriters, or color TV.

I had temptations similar to the ones you face today, but I made choices based on moral and ethical values taught to me in my childhood. Later in life, it did not matter to my mother what place I had in an organizational chart, how many people I was responsible for, or how much money moved through my hands. What mattered was that I had clean hands and a pure heart and that I was working towards eternal goals in the kingdom of God. I cannot give a resume of my accomplishments to the Lord, only myself and who I have become during my time in mortality.

It was with eager anticipation that I went to the temple in October of 1968 to receive my next ordinance: the endowment. I went with my parents. I had been taught nothing about the endowment prior to my going. There was no temple preparation class. My bishop and stake president had said very little to me as I interviewed for my temple recommend, explaining that we don’t talk about the temple experience outside of the temple. As I entered the temple, I recall feeling the warm blanket come over me once again—a feeling of being home and safe inside God’s Holy House. Although I didn’t remember much about that first temple endowment session and the covenants I made that day, I remember feeling acceptable to the Lord and being at peace in His temple.

As we leave the Sloviks and visit the Halversson family, who have recently arrived from Sweden, dusk is gathering. Helga helps to light a candle in each window, an important ceremony in her family. The traditional Swedish Christmas season lasts for a whole month, and Helga and her mother have been busy making cookies, breads, candles, and straw ornaments.
As she helps herself to the different dishes of the smorgasbord, Helga thinks about their farm in Sweden. All the animals there were given extra food on Christmas Eve, and a bowl of rice pudding was always left in the loft for Jultomten, the mischievous elf who guards one’s home. After Jultomten ate his pudding, he would leave gifts for Helga and her family. Tonight Helga will leave Jultomten’s pudding on the table.
In the small room of the Murphys, who immigrated from Ireland, a bright wreath of holly with its shining leaves and red berries makes the walls look cheery. Colleen and her sister, Mary, help set the table, even though they have just finished their dinner. They place a loaf of bread and a pitcher of milk on the clean table, along with a large candle.
The girls’ grandmother smiles at them. “Since you have been blessed with the name Mary, you may light the candle, my dear,” she says. There is a deep hush as Mary solemnly lights the candle.
Colleen, who feels a bit left out for a moment, runs to the door to make sure that it is unlatched. The Christ Child, or any lonely wanderer, might see the Murphys’ lighted candle and know that He/he is welcome in their home for food and friendship.

One day they asked me to go to Whitland (Carmarthenshire, Wales) as they were short-handed. Ivor, who was in charge, told me to go and tighten up some bolts on a wagon which was in the middle of a long row of wagons. I had to go in between them. Suddenly there was a clashing of the wagons, and something told me that it was the wagons on my line. As I got down flat on the rails, the shunt hit the buffers of the wagon I was working on. The wagons were rolling over me, but I kept cool and thought, “If no one hears me I will catch hold of the second-to-last coupling and be dragged—the steam engine was pushing the wagons and if the engine went over me, I would be dead. Some railway workers heard me and stopped the engine. When I crawled out, they asked me how I was. I said I was fine, but then I became like jelly and shook – this was a delayed reaction to the shock of being so close to being killed.

At times an awareness of the elderly is brought into focus by a reminder from one ever so young. May I share with you a Pakistani folktale which illustrates this truth:
An ancient grandmother lived with her daughter and grandson. As she grew frail and feeble, instead of being a help around the house, she became a constant trial. She broke plates and cups, lost knives, spilled water. One day, exasperated because the old woman had broken another precious plate, the daughter sent the grandson to buy his grandmother a wooden plate. The boy hesitated because he knew a wooden plate would humiliate his grandmother. But his mother insisted, so off he went. He returned bringing not one, but two wooden plates.
“I asked you to buy only one,” his mother said. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“Yes,” said the boy. “But I bought the second one so there would be one for you when you get old.”

Troy Jackson, Jaren Hope, and Andrew Allan are bearers of the Aaronic Priesthood who were called by an inspired bishop to team teach a family history class in their ward. These young men are representative of so many of you in their eagerness to learn and desire to serve.
Troy stated, “I used to come to church and just sit there, but now I realize that I need to go home and do something. We can all do family history.”
Jaren reported that as he learned more about family history, he realized “that these were not just names but real people. I became more and more excited about taking the names to the temple.”
And Andrew commented, “I have taken to family history with a love and vigor I did not know I could muster. As I prepared each week to teach, I was often nudged by the Holy Spirit to act and try some of the methods taught in the lesson. Before, family history was a scary thing. But aided by the Spirit I was able to step up to my calling and help many people in our ward.”

As much as I loved my mission, I struggled to apply the lessons I learned while serving to my life afterward. I ended up returning home sooner than I expected due to mental health struggles and then moved from my home in the Philippines to the United Arab Emirates to start working.
Since moving here, I’ve had a hard time feeling like I’m making progress and moving forward on the covenant path. On my mission, I could devote all my time and energy to the gospel. I worried very little about my temporal needs or what I was going to do with my life after my mission. But now that I’m trying to balance other demands of life, I feel like I keep falling short.
And since I’m lacking both the supportive, faithful community I had back home in the Philippines and the schedule of a missionary that makes progress much easier and clearer, sometimes I feel like I’m not progressing at all.
As I’ve continued to struggle with these feelings, I’ve felt strongly that I should implement a habit I had on my mission. As a missionary I learned how important it is to connect with Heavenly Father every night through prayer and honestly evaluate my actions each day. I would ask Heavenly Father what I had done well, ask for forgiveness from my sins and for strength to overcome my imperfections, and then ask Him how I could do better the next day.
At first I was scared to start doing this after my mission, especially since I’d been feeling like I was already failing myself and Heavenly Father. I didn’t want to feel even worse about my shortcomings. But I remembered what I’d learned on my mission: repentance brings joy. As Elder Craig C. Christensen of the Seventy explained: “Repenting daily and coming unto Jesus Christ is the way to experience joy—joy beyond our imagination [see 1 Corinthians 2:9]. That is why we are here on earth. That is why God prepared His great plan of happiness for us.”1
I’m so grateful for that prompting—checking in with Heavenly Father each day has changed so much for me. Realizing that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ give me the chance to become better every day helps me have more self-compassion—if They believe in me enough to keep giving me more chances, why shouldn’t I believe in me too?

Many anti-Mormon tracts have said that it certainly is no example to the Christian world that a man should be called a martyr for Christ if he used a gun in his last hour. They do not know either the background or the sequel. The background, in a word, is that the Prophet had promised those brethren in the name of the Lord that he would defend them even if it meant giving up his life. Had he been all alone in the Carthage Jail, the story might be different, but he was not. He was there with two members of the Twelve, John Taylor and Willard Richards—Willard Richards weighing over three hundred pounds, the largest target (and the only one who would not be injured)—and with his brother Hyrum. He did defend them as he had promised. In fact, we now know from the records that the first man up the stairs that day, anxious and eager, was met by a fist and rolled back down. That fist was Joseph Smith’s.

Inside the room they had nothing to defend themselves with except two pistols, plus two walking sticks which they used in an effort to divert the rifles. Some of the balls went off in the ceiling. When Jacob Hamblin and James W. Woods visited the room shortly after the martyrdom they counted the pockmarks of the balls that were shot through the door or doorway. There were thirty-six. According to Willard Richards, all that shooting occurred in less than two minutes. Both Hyrum and Joseph received five balls; John Taylor, four. It was a volley, an explosive volley.

The previous night, the Prophet had had some private conversations. We know that he had borne to the guards his testimony of the Book of Mormon and the Restoration, and later his last testimony to the brethren present. No doubt it was the equivalent of what David Osborne had heard him say in 1837: “The Book of Mormon is true, just what it purports to be, and for this testimony I expect to give an account in the day of judgment.” We know also that earlier he had pleaded three times with Hyrum for Hyrum to leave him and go back. Hyrum could only say, “Joseph, I can’t leave you.” Hyrum, it turned out, was the first to be killed.

How did the Prophet make the decision to leave that room, or to try to leave it, through the window? Films depict Joseph falling off balance out through a large glass plate window. There is no such window. This was a jail. Even the upstairs had walls as thick as two feet. The window was small, and Joseph was a large man, and for him to get through it required considerable effort. Willard Richards used the strangest adverb in his whole account when he said that after emptying the pistol (which misfired a couple of times) the Prophet calmly turned from the door, dropped the pistol, and went to the window. Calmly? It is difficult to understand how anybody could have heard the words in such a fracas, but one man, outside the jail, claimed he heard the Prophet cry, “Oh Lord, what shall I do?” How fast can a man’s mind work in such circumstances? What was going through his? It was certain death at the door, that was clear. It was certain death at the window, because balls were coming through it, and John Taylor had just been blasted under the bed, writhing in pain with four wounds. Yet Joseph decided to get out—hoping, Willard Richards believed, that it might save the lives of his brethren.

Whether that was his intent or not, he was hit from behind—twice, maybe three times—but managed anyway to pull himself up and out, and then fell from the window. “He’s leaped the window!” someone shouted, and those on the landing rushed downstairs and outside. “Shoot him, — — — him, shoot him!” said Levi Williams, and they shot several times more.

“I had a friend on the Titanic,” said one elderly man. “He was a wealthy gentleman and quite old. There were not enough life boats, and women were being put in the boats first. They were trying to help his wife over the side, but she would not go. They held on to each other, and they went down together on that big ship. Several survivors told of that.
“Oh, I would tell a lot of things,” he continued. “That is, if anybody wants to listen. I’m 91 now and my oh my, the things I remember. Life is a wonderful experience, I tell you, it’s a wonderful experience!”

Now, I would like to fast forward a few thousand years and introduce you to a former student of mine who has gone through, and continues to go through, some great trials and tests in his life. I have asked for his permission to share his story. I do not share his story for you to feel sorry for him or to have pity toward him. He doesn't need your pity. I share his story to somehow give you hope and strength, as we all go through our own trials here in mortality. Let me introduce you to Ammon Butcher. As you can see, Ammon was a typical boy doing typical boy things in his home state of Texas. Ammon is part of a large family: he has four brothers and three sisters.

Ammon loved sports, and in Texas everyone played football. He played football, but his true passion was wrestling. His passion paid off, and he became a very good wrestler. He wrestled in junior high and high school. Then one Saturday in January 2007, everything changed.

Ammon was participating in a high school wrestling tournament as a junior. He was engaged in a very tough match. His opponent was very aggressive and very strong. No one really knows exactly what happened, as there was no video of the match. What Ammon does recall is his opponent had him around his waist and was on top of Ammon. As Ammon stood up and tried to break free from his grasp, he was only able to break free of one hand, so his opponent quickly grabbed Ammon around one of his legs and spun to throw him back to the mat. In what is a completely legal move—and performed frequently in most wrestling matches—Ammon fell awkwardly on his neck. At that moment, Ammon's life changed forever. He lay fully conscious but motionless on the mat. He could not move or feel anything from the chest down. The medical diagnosis was a C4-C5 dislocation and compression. He did not technically break his neck; it was dislocated, and the dislocation put tremendous pressure on his spinal cord and caused irreparable damage. Ammon spent 26 days in intensive care. He weighed in that Saturday morning of the wrestling tournament 139.6 pounds. When he left the ICU, he weighed 110 pounds.

Fortunately for Ammon, he had his family, some great mentors from his high school, his wrestling coach, and an undeniable faith in our Savior. Though his experiences after the accident were never feelings of self-pity, just normal-day life had become enormously difficult. Ammon's mother would frequently tell her son, "Get up; you have to get back out there. Focus on what you can do. Someday you will have to provide for yourself and a family."

After the accident, there was a tremendous outpouring of support. Ammon remembers so many giving of their time, their means, and their talents. Emails flooded his inbox, monetary donations were made, letters poured in from across the globe, and good people were constantly by his bedside. The hospital actually had to move Ammon to a larger room to accommodate all the visitors.

After almost a full year of rehabilitation, Ammon needed to set new goals based on his new reality of life. Ammon was a fair student in high school but never really applied himself. Luckily for him, he did well enough in high school to not have failed any classes.

He began looking at his options of a potential career path. Ammon recalls thinking that he never really focused on academics, so he really didn't know what he could do. Obviously, any type of trade was out of the question without the use of his hands and legs. When he returned to high school, he faced the very strong possibility of failing a class for the very first time. He was struggling with coping with his new reality. However, once he got a grip on his new life, he began to realize he had some ability in the academic arena that he never really knew he had before the accident.

Once his high school grades began to improve and he took the college entrance exams, college was a strong possibility. He began to realize that it would have to be his mind to propel him to the heights he wanted to go.

Ammon enrolled at BYU-Idaho and decided to pursue a degree in accounting. I realize I'm completely biased here, but I have to admit it was the best decision he had made thus far. I met Ammon for the first time when he was a sophomore taking an Accounting 202 class I was teaching. Since that first meeting in 2011, I have been blessed to know him.

Due to his limitations of being in a motorized wheelchair, Rexburg and BYU-Idaho did present some challenges. For Ammon, attending winter semester was out of the question. I did kid him on multiple occasions that I'm sure the engineering department could retrofit his wheelchair with tracks, and we could put some skis on the front, and he could have a motorized snow machine. But this was totally impractical.

It would be my wish for everyone within the sound of my voice to have the chance to meet Ammon in person. I know it would change your life. I am a different person because of my interactions with Ammon.

Ammon did very well with his studies here and graduated with a bachelor's degree in accounting in the fall of 2013. He was honored as one of our top accounting students and was invited to give the student address at the College of Business and Communication convocation that semester.

Graduate school is pushed pretty strongly in our profession. If you don't go on and get a master's degree, most states require 150 credit hours beyond high school in order to sit for the CPA exam. Ammon wanted to get his master's. He applied to all the large schools in Texas. He was actually accepted to University of Texas at Austin and SMU. UT-Austin is in the top five nationally for accounting programs. Brother Packard, an accounting faculty member here on campus, suggested Ammon apply to the Ohio State University's Fisher School of Business. He applied, and actually a week before he was going to send his acceptance letter to UT-Austin, he received a call from the recruiting and admissions coordinator at Ohio State University inviting him to come out to Columbus and take a tour of the school.

When Ammon first met Dr. Arya, the department chair for the Master of Accounting program, he had no idea of Ammon's disability. They offered Ammon a full-tuition scholarship with room and board and a monthly stipend. The value of this scholarship is roughly $65,000.

Ammon still maintained a love for wrestling and spoke of his love for it with Dr. Araya. He then got Ammon in touch with the OSU wrestling coach, Tom Ryan. When Coach Ryan offered Ammon a manager positon with the OSU wrestling team for the year he would be on campus, Ammon was sold. Ammon attended OSU and received his Master of Accounting degree in April 2015.

He also worked with Coach Ryan on building a leadership training program for the wrestling team. Ammon said, "Success in wrestling requires a person to make a multitude of little decisions correctly and the same in life. Through my injury, recovery, and transition to a new life, I have thought long and hard about the purpose of adversity, and I've asked, what is it about the second person that passes a barrier that the first could not and the next barrier that a third could pass but the second could not? I am working with Coach Ryan to develop a structured program to address areas where student athletes are guided in the process of making right decisions under extreme stress that over time will accumulate to success in all areas of their life, not just performance on the mat." As you can see, Ammon had a very positive impact on the wrestling program at OSU.

I recall Ammon visiting me in my office one day, and like a typical accountant he said, "Brother Foutz, do you have any idea how much it costs for me to function each month?" I told him I actually had no idea. He said, "It takes over 12 people each month for me to function. I need someone to help me get out of bed, shower, and get dressed. I need someone to cook and help me eat. I need someone to help with some of my daily tasks at school. And then I need someone at night to help me get ready for bed and then help to get into bed. I have figured it out, and I am going to have to make a lot of money in order for me to be self-sufficient and not a burden to society.

Little did Ammon know that the Lord was working his magic and guiding Ammon and his decisions. Unknown to Ammon at the time he decided to go to Ohio State, there was actually an apartment complex built specifically for individuals with disabilities like Ammon's. Each apartment is built and designed in such a way that lifts for his bed to lift him in and out are built into the celling. The lift can carry him right from his bed to the bathroom. There is 24-hour support available at the touch of a button, or it can be voice activated. There is transportation to and from his apartment to anywhere in Columbus.

This apartment has given Ammon the ability to work as a staff accountant with a large health care organization that has its headquarters in Columbus. He has begun his path to being self-sufficient.

To quote Ammon, "I have drunk from the bitter cup, but I refuse to be bitter. Just like muscles in the body, the spirit needs stress to grow, and that is what I take from my accident—through it I have grown my spirit. I am also fortunate to learn I could get excited about what I could do with my mind. I don't spend any time thinking about my injury or what could have been. I let the research take care of itself. If there is a therapy that can help me, great. But until that time, I am not thinking about it. There is too much to accomplish, and I'm not going to get caught up in worrying about something that only might happen; there are things I can make happen and lives I can touch. That is what drives me."

I am looking forward to following from a distance what Ammon will do next. He continues to amaze me and motivates me to be a better teacher, father, husband, and child of our Heavenly Father.

When I started my first semester of college in the United States, I was so excited. I was attending a school with a lot of Church members, and I had never been surrounded by so many people my age who believed the same things I did! I expected we would all share the same standards and help each other grow spiritually and intellectually.
However, I was surprised when my expectations fell a little short.
Back in my home city in Taiwan, Church members always seemed to take the gospel seriously. They never missed a chance to connect with Jesus Christ, and neither did I. There, I would go to the temple every month with my younger sister (who always motivated me to go), I never missed church meetings (because of my parents), and I always tried to make decisions that kept me connected to the Spirit, just like the people around me did.
But at school, while nobody was intentionally breaking commandments, for some people, the gospel seemed to be lower on their to-do lists. Some of them made choices that just teetered on the edge between the world and the gospel. Being on my own for the first time, I got busy and caught up in what everyone else around me was doing. I soon saw how easy it is to be influenced by the world around you when you’re not prioritizing the gospel.
When friends around me were making decisions that didn’t always align with gospel standards, I started to wonder if I was living in a way that was too spiritual. I wondered if I was the odd one out—if I was taking the gospel too seriously. I started to feel lonely, especially at church. I felt tempted to change my standards to fit in with the people around me.
However, around that time, President Russell M. Nelson shared a powerful message in general conference:
“We have never needed positive spiritual momentum more than we do now. … Spiritual momentum can help us withstand the relentless, wicked attacks of the adversary and thwart his efforts to erode our personal spiritual foundation.
“… I urge you to get on the covenant path and stay there. Experience the joy of repenting daily. Learn about God and how He works. Seek and expect miracles. …
“As you act on these pursuits, I promise you the ability to move forward on the covenant path with increased momentum, despite whatever obstacles you face.”
That’s when it hit me.
I had been more interested in what others were doing than my own personal relationship with the Savior. I even realized that my school was right next to a temple and I hadn’t been there yet! It also became clear how much I had relied on others to influence my spirituality back in Taiwan too.
I needed to do the work to reignite my spiritual momentum and focus on Christ—who should be my top motivator to live His gospel.
I started making some changes.
Even if I didn’t feel motivated to go to church or attend the temple or do anything spiritual some days, I chose to do so anyway and focus on my Savior. It didn’t matter what everyone else was doing.
The world makes it easy to take the blessings of the gospel for granted, but when I focus on Him, I remember what matters most.
Instead of wallowing in loneliness and focusing on the differences in how we are living our lives, I now reach out to others. I strive to make friends and note all the positive interactions I have with them, like a simple smile or a kind conversation.
I no longer compare my discipleship to others’. Instead, I focus on keeping my spiritual habits consistent and strengthening my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. When I prioritize my relationship with Them, I remember how much They love each of us perfectly, and it reminds me to offer grace to others just like They offer grace to me.
President Nelson also invited us “to take charge of your own testimony of Jesus Christ and His gospel. Work for it. Nurture it so that it will grow. Feed it truth. … As you make the continual strengthening of your testimony of Jesus Christ your highest priority, watch for miracles to happen in your life.”
The world makes being casual about your discipleship easy, especially when you’re on your own for the first time as a young adult. However, I encourage you to accept our prophet’s invitation to strengthen your foundation of faith in Jesus Christ.
Making Him a priority keeps me moving forward on the covenant path.

It was Friday morning, June 28, 1844, and already the summer sun was hot in Illinois. Since about eight o’clock that morning Dr. Willard Richards, Samuel H. Smith, and nine others had plodded along the dusty road between Carthage and Nauvoo, Illinois. Moving along the road with the solemn procession were two wagons heaped with bushes to protect their cargo from the blistering heat of the sun.
Laid out on the wagons were the lifeless bodies of Joseph Smith, age thirty-eight, over six feet tall, and Hyrum, his brother, age forty-four, and even larger in stature than Joseph. Wearily, Dr. Richards and Samuel Smith, brother to the two murdered men, pressed toward Nauvoo and talked of the events just the day before during which Joseph and Hyrum were gunned down by an armed mob with painted faces. The two victims, along with Dr. Richards and John Taylor, were lodged in Carthage Jail, supposedly for their protection, when the mob, numbering from 150 to 200 marauders, stormed the jail and shot to death their intended victims.
Word of the deaths had already reached Nauvoo, headquarters city for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. As the wagons and their foot-weary guardians entered the city, several thousand citizens greeted the procession with the most solemn lamentations and mourning.
The bloodied bodies were tenderly removed from the wagons at the Nauvoo Mansion and were carefully washed from head to foot. The various wounds were filled with cotton, soaked in camphor, and death masks were impressed on each face. Fine, plain clothing was then placed on each body. When these preparations were completed, the bodies were viewed that night by the bereaved widows and children of the two men, along with many of their closest associates. Then on Saturday, more than ten thousand mourning Saints viewed the remains of their beloved Prophet Joseph and his brother, the Patriarch Hyrum. The bodies were then secretly and lovingly buried. (See History of the Church, 6:614–31.)

During a recent fast and testimony meeting, I sat on a cushioned folding chair in our little branch building and tried to convince myself to go up and bear my testimony. I don’t necessarily get stage fright, but I don’t enjoy talking in front of everybody either. Part of me wanted to get up there, and the other part made up excuses not to. The words “I don’t even have a testimony” popped into my mind.
I quickly took those words back, if you can do that with thoughts, because I knew it wasn’t true. “Of course I have a testimony,” I said to myself. “It may not be an extremely great or strong testimony of every gospel topic, but I have a strong belief in some gospel principles.”
I started listing them in my mind. “I know that Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost love all of us. I believe that families are extremely important and that through the plan of salvation, families can live together forever.”
I had recently turned 14, and my mom told me with a smile, “Joseph Smith was 14 when he had the First Vision.” I knew this, but that simple sentence strengthened my testimony of Joseph Smith. I know that he was a true prophet called of God and that he translated the Book of Mormon and restored the gospel.
Not all of this came to mind right then, but in the days that followed I thought a lot about that Sunday. As with my testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith, my belief and testimony of other things didn’t grow just because of what I learned or heard but also through things that happened to me.
For example, last October my grandpa passed away. He had been sick with diabetes for a long time. His was the first funeral of a family member I’d been to, and it was a very sad time for my family and me. Being among all of my relatives during the funeral and knowing we would see Grandpa again strengthened my testimony that families are extremely important and play a key part in Heavenly Father’s plan. I know that because my mom and dad were sealed in the temple, our family can live together forever. I am so thankful for their choice.
This week my dad taught us a lesson about the Holy Ghost during family home evening. He listed several things we can do to bring the Holy Ghost into our hearts. Among them is bearing our testimonies. He said that it takes courage to bear testimony but that the Lord will bless you with the Holy Ghost for your bravery. This week is a fast Sunday, and I look forward to sharing my testimony with my branch.

After dinner, Dad called everyone together for family home evening. “Tonight,” he said, “we’re going to learn about one of our early pioneers—Jesse Nathaniel Smith.” He opened a small red book and showed them a photo of a white-haired man with a big, bushy beard, a long nose, big ears, and thoughtful eyes.
“Who is he, Dad?” Jay asked.
“Jesse N. Smith was a young cousin of the Prophet Joseph Smith. His father, Silas, was a younger brother of Joseph Smith, Sr., the Prophet’s father.”
“Wow!” Jay exclaimed. “I didn’t know that the Prophet Joseph Smith had any cousins in the Church.”
Dad smiled. “The Smith family is a big, wonderful family, Jay. Jesse N. Smith has many descendants in the Church today, and we are some of them. He was an influential mission president in Scandinavia and an early settler in Utah and Arizona. But tonight I want to tell you something about Jesse when he was a boy.” Dad turned to Susan. “His birthday is very close to yours, Susan. He was born in New York State on December 2, 1834.”
“My birthday’s December third—we’re almost twins!”
Dad turned a few pages, and began telling about their ancestor. “Things were not easy or comfortable for Jesse and his family. He was only three years old when they had to leave Kirtland with the rest of the Saints and make the long journey to Missouri. His brother Silas was seven, and his brother John was five. They traveled for six months to reach their new home in Far West. Even before they got there, they were forced to flee from angry mobs on the trail. They had to live one winter in a crude log cabin, and they ate mostly boiled, dried corn because there was no mill to grind the corn into meal. Life was so hard that John died before the winter was over.”
Susan looked at Jay. What would it be like if Jay or Greg died? she wondered.
“Less than a year later,” Dad continued, “the family was in Illinois. There was a lot of illness, and Jesse’s father died in September.”
“Oh no!” Susan jumped up to snuggle beside her dad. “What did they do?”
“They moved to Nauvoo, and the Prophet Joseph and Hyrum helped for a while. When they were killed, Jesse and his family moved across the river to live near his Uncle John Smith in a settlement called Zarahemla. Uncle John helped them, but they had to earn a living for themselves.”
“You mean Jesse had to go to work when he was a little boy?” Susan asked.
“That’s right. When he was ten, he went to work for a farmer who wasn’t very nice to him. He had to live on a farm away from his mother and brother. Every morning he had to get up very early and go a quarter of a mile to get all the water for the day from a well. He worked the rest of the day in the fields. Then he had to bring home the cows. He said, ‘This was the most lonesome and tedious part of my service, as I was sometimes gone in the woods until after dark.’”
“When did he rest?” Susan asked.
“Only on Sundays, when he was allowed to visit his mother.” Dad looked down at the page. “Sometimes Jesse had special chores. He said, ‘On washing days, I carried water the whole day.’ What do you think it was like to carry water all day, a quarter of a mile each trip?”
“Pretty hard,” Jay said. “But I bet I could do it.”
“Not me,” Susan grumbled. “I’d just sit down and not go at all.”
“Well,” Dad said. “Maybe you’re strong enough for one trip. Let’s find out. Everybody come outside with me.”
“So,” Dad said when they were all inside and Mom was passing out cupcakes for a treat. “How was that?”
“It was awful!” Susan admitted. “And I think it was awful that Jesse had to do it every day. Why did he have to work so hard? It doesn’t seem fair.”
“Well, they needed money, Susan. But I think working was good for him, too. Hauling all that water made his arms grow strong,” Dad said. “And some things soon happened to him that made that a very good thing.” Dad opened the journal again. “He wrote, ‘During the summer of 1845, I took a job of hoeing corn, thus earning the first pair of boots I ever owned.’ Your arms have to be strong to hoe all day long. Then, not long after that, Jesse and his family went west with Uncle John Smith. He had two wagons, and Jesse’s mother had one of her own. Who do you think was assigned to drive one of those wagons?” Dad asked, looking at Susan.
“Jesse?”
“That’s right. Even though he was only twelve, Jesse drove a wagon with four big oxen all the way across the plains to the Salt Lake Valley. His Aunt Clarissa rode with him. His arms had to be pretty strong to control the oxen, to keep them pulling that wagon day after day over rivers, through mud, up rocky mountains, and down steep canyons. He even had to hold them steady when the buffalo came thundering by. I’m sure his muscles grew even more, driving the ox teams. And that was a good thing, too.”
“Why?” It was Jay’s turn to be surprised.
“His work wasn’t over just because he had arrived in the valley. He wrote, ‘I herded the cows the whole [first] winter through for Uncle John and … a few others. I was exceedingly hungry, [being] at an age when my appetite was very keen; but there was no help for it. We voluntarily put ourselves on rations; we had about half a pound of flour per day for each person, without any vegetables, and but little meat; sometimes no meat. For months my desire for food was not satisfied.’”
“I can’t imagine working all day when you’re so hungry,” Jay said.
“And herding wasn’t all he had to do, either.” Dad continued reading: “‘As the Spring approached, preparations were made for farming and gardening. I drove the team to break the land for [two neighbor men] and [for] my brother and myself a patch of ground. … We planted considerable corn, … also … beans and peas and some few other vegetables … and an acre of wheat.’ Then,” Dad said, looking up, “he had to tend all those crops—weeding, irrigating, and harvesting them. It was hard because he was inexperienced. He said, ‘Our wheat did poorly, not having sufficient water. As we were unused to irrigating, we did not apply the water properly. We had to pull the most of it, as it was too short to cut—’”

Consider the story of the 442nd Regimental Combat Team from World War II. After the horrific attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, Japanese Americans faced intense prejudice, including internment. They were beaten, forced out of their homes, and persecuted in these camps. Despite this, over 12,000 Japanese Americans, many from Hawaii, enlisted in the 442nd and fought bravely in Europe. They adopted the motto, “Go for broke,” a pidgin English phrase from here in the islands, reflecting their willingness to sacrifice everything, even their lives, for their country.

One of their most heroic actions was the rescue of the “Lost Battalion” in France. A group of soldiers from a Texas National Guard unit had become trapped by German forces. After several failed rescue attempts, the 442nd was called in. Despite fierce resistance, freezing temperatures, and heavy fog, these soldiers fought bravely. After three grueling days of fighting, the men of the 442nd unit spontaneously made a “Go for Broke” charge. They crashed through enemy lines and rescued over 200 members of the "Lost Battalion," but at a steep price: over 800 of the 442nd gave their lives in return. For every soldier they saved, the Japanese Americans sacrificed four of their own.

Living up to their motto to “Go for Broke” in every way, the 442nd became the most decorated unit of its size in all U.S. military history. They were awarded 4,000 Purple Hearts, 4,000 Bronze Star Medals, seven Presidential Unit Citations, and 21 of its members were awarded the Medal of Honor. Their actions exemplified extraordinary courage and sacrifice.

What drove these men to sacrifice so greatly? Mike Masaoka from the 442nd, gave us these stirring words from the Japanese American Creed:

“I am proud that I am an American citizen of Japanese ancestry, for my very background makes me appreciate more fully the wonderful advantages of this Nation. She has given me an education befitting kings. She has permitted me to build a home, to earn a livelihood, to worship, think, speak, and act as I please—as a free man equal to every other man. ...

“Because I have received innumerable benefits from [America], I pledge myself to do honor to her at all times and in all places; to defend her against all enemies, foreign or domestic, in the hope that I may become a better American in a greater America.” [1]

I love these words from the 442nd! These soldiers served and died for their country out of gratitude for its blessings, and their story is a part of my heritage. You can see my great-uncle Mayan on the left in this picture. I grew up hearing stories about the bravery he and his fellow soldiers displayed.