Gospel Story Finder

Their journey to the gospel began during a work trip to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, where they were introduced to and joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. At the time, there was no Church branch in their hometown of Debra Zeit, and attending church required a 47-kilometer weekly journey to Addis Ababa. Despite the difficulty, the family made the effort to travel every week. Eventually, they were able to worship closer to home, gathering with other members in the house of President Ayele Asfaw Kelkaye, a fellow Latter-day Saint. The early years of their conversion were marked by this dedication to the gospel, but the path was not always easy.
For eight years, the Waji family rarely attended church, facing spiritual and personal challenges. It was during this time that Elder and Sister Moyer, senior missionaries, visited their home. That visit marked a turning point in their lives. Ada Worq, one of Waji and Emebet’s daughters, recalls the significance of that moment: “I will never forget what they said when they visited us. They asked, ‘What can we do for you?’ and then spoke to us about Christ’s love and faith. Everyone was crying, touched by the Spirit.”
This visit ignited a renewal of faith within the family. They recommitted to the gospel and returned to full activity in the Church. However, their path to the temple remained challenging. For Waji and Zenbech, being sealed in the temple for time and all eternity became a cherished goal, but their journey was met with multiple setbacks. Their planned trips to the temple failed three times. Despite their best efforts, unforeseen obstacles prevented them from making the journey. But through faith and divine intervention, their trip was finally made possible. With the support of the mission leaders, President Oliva Cowley and Sister Rebecca Cowley, they made their way to the Accra Ghana Temple.
On June 17, 2024, after 25 years of membership and waiting, Waji and Zenbech entered the temple and were sealed together. The day marked was filled with deep spiritual meaning. Mekonnen, their eldest son, reflected on the experience: “I saw how much the people have been blessed because of having the temple in their country.”
Waji, moved by the power of the temple, said, “The temple is like a compass—it directs us to the way of eternal life. It is my prayer that there will be a temple in Ethiopia one day.”
Sister Zenbech shared her profound feelings from their temple experience, saying, “I felt the love of Heavenly Father and the love of the people while I was in the temple.”
For both Waji and Zenbech, being sealed in the temple was not only the culmination of years of faith and sacrifice but also the fulfilment of a promise they had longed for.
Following their sealing, the family continued to grow spiritually. Their renewed dedication led them to serve in various callings in the Church, building their testimonies and further strengthening their faith. Their daughter Bemnet, inspired by her family’s experience and her own faith, began preparing to serve a mission, contributing to the ongoing legacy of commitment and service within the Waji family.
The Waji family’s journey serves as a powerful reminder that faith, patience, and perseverance in the gospel yield great blessings. Though Waji and Zenbech faced numerous obstacles, their dream of being sealed in the temple became a reality, demonstrating the power of the Lord’s timing. Their story offers hope to all those striving for the blessings of the temple, showing that through faith, anything is possible.

Before I had bone cancer, I was quite impatient. When I came home from the hospital, I suddenly needed a lot of patience. I had been right-handed, and now I had to learn to do everything left-handed.
One Sunday morning when I was in my bedroom with my tie in my hand, I thought, How am I going to tie this? I thought about getting a clip-on tie. I thought about asking Mom to help me. But I couldn’t take her with me on my mission just to tie my ties. So I decided I had to learn how to do it myself. I finally figured it out by using my teeth. I still do it that way, even after having tied it thousands of times. I have learned that with a positive attitude and the Lord’s help, I can do what I have to do.

Photo illustration by Cody Bell
I can still picture them. Those unforgettable, incredibly quiet Sundays spent outside in a neighborhood filled primarily with Latter-day Saints—and I wasn’t one of them.
I used to imagine a tumbleweed rolling slowly down my street as they did in old Western films, indicating that no one was around. I knew where my neighbors were (at church), I understood why my friends couldn’t play on Sundays, and I knew why only my family would be outside doing yard work on a blistering Sunday afternoon. At least, I thought I knew. Little did I realize that seminary and The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints would give me true insight and change my life for the better.
Fast-forward a few years from those childhood days: I was baptized when I was 11 years old. I’m not sure if an 11-year-old can choose to be baptized for the wrong reasons, but I believe I did. I didn’t fully understand the role of the Holy Ghost, and all I remember about my baptism was thinking, “I will finally be like my friends.”
To my dismay, I was still nothing like them. I assumed that once I was a member of the Church, my family would automatically attend church with me. When I realized my family was not going to attend church, I wondered if my friends knew how lucky they were. They would talk about how they didn’t like going to church or how they seemed to dread saying family prayers. I wanted so badly to tell them they shouldn’t be wishing away something so precious. I knew they had something special.
Yet I also didn’t fully embrace all that the gospel and the Church had to offer, even though I was baptized.
Then one day when I was a freshman in high school, something happened that changed everything: I ran into Brother Esplin.
“Excuse me,” he said as I tried to walk past him.
“Yes?” I replied.
“I’m Devin Esplin, Melissa Esplin’s husband. My wife talks about your volleyball potential all the time, and I just wanted to formally introduce myself.”
I stood there silently until a lightbulb finally went off in my head.
“Oh! Right, I love Coach Esplin!”
“Me too!” he said. “Anyway, I’m the seminary teacher here, and I was wondering if you would like to transfer into my class.”
“Well, I would, but I can’t,” I replied. “But I promise that next year I will!”
“I sure hope you do. It will be a great experience.”
“I will! I promise,” I said as I walked away. As I walked back to class, I couldn’t hide the smile on my face. This was my opportunity to find out for myself what the Church had to offer. This time I was going to learn about the Church for the right reasons. I was given a second chance, and I wasn’t going to pass it up.
My sophomore year was incredible. I was so excited to go to seminary and learn! The first few weeks were pretty crazy. I felt like a little child—I had a lot to learn. People would use words like repentance and the Atonement, and I felt ashamed because I had no idea what those terms meant. Mercifully, my class helped me learn and never made me feel like an outsider.
As the year progressed, I found myself craving more knowledge. I was amazed by the things that my peers would discuss. I learned that I wasn’t the only one who suffered trials. I was saddened that I had made it so far in life without focusing on the Savior and the gospel. As I began to understand what being a Latter-day Saint is all about, I knew I never wanted to give it up.
My junior year was the major turning point of my life. Because of seminary, I read the Book of Mormon for the first time. As I studied daily, my testimony grew, and I grew closer to my Heavenly Father. I learned that I can strengthen my testimony every day. I understood that I’m never alone.
Seminary is a blessing that has altered the course of my life forever. Every day, I now think about how grateful I am that I have my Savior to get me through trials and temptations.

Please allow me to tell you a story about my family. As my wife, Karen, mentioned, we have been blessed with four sons and one daughter whom we love very, very, much. Our children are very close in age. When Clay, our youngest, was born, our four other children were ages two, three, four, and five. Karen was a very busy mother.

When Clay and Sid were two and four years old, our family was invited to a friend's home for a barbeque. It was held in their backyard which was nicely landscaped and contained a large swimming pool. As we were seated for dinner on the patio, Sid and Clay removed their sandals to dangle their feet in the water near the pool steps. Soon they started to argue and all too predictably Clay began to complain that Sid had done something to annoy him. Karen got up from her seat and went over to Sid and scolded him by whispering something in his ear.

Our visit with our hosts continued for a few more minutes when Karen suddenly jumped from her seat, and in what seemed like one sweeping movement, ran to the pool and then leaped in fully clothed. She scooped Clay from the bottom and brought him back to the pool's edge. Karen had our baby above the water's surface so fast that I am not sure if he even realized that breathing under water was going to be a problem.

Soon it was apparent that Clay was OK and not the least upset by his walk on the bottom of the pool. At this point, Karen turned to Sid and firmly demanded, "why didn't you help your brother?" Then, with all the frustration that a four-year old could muster, he glared at her and said, "You, told me not to touch him!"

Illustration by Alex Nabaum
When I was about 11 years old, I was exposed to pornography. That one instance developed into a greater problem that became the defining struggle of my teenage years. By the time I was in high school, I had turned away from pornography and toward Jesus Christ’s Atonement. Although I experienced a miracle in having the filth erased from my mind, I still felt overwhelming guilt in my heart.
Around this time, my grandma lent me my great-great grandmother Thea’s handwritten autobiography. Within days I felt deeply connected with Thea Martina Waagen (1883–1967). Thea’s father tragically died just a few months before her birth, so she was raised by her widowed Norwegian immigrant mother. Growing up was difficult, but she found joy in picking wild strawberries and playing the organ at her local Lutheran church. Thea’s mother remarried, and with her stepfather’s help, she attended college. Later in life, Thea and her family converted to the Church and moved to Utah, USA. Things weren’t easy for Thea. She and her husband divorced. She experienced great heartache and severe depression, yet she remained true to her testimony.
As I learned about Thea and her choice to persevere through adversity, I was overwhelmed with an intense love that reassured me of my worth and helped me overcome my paralyzing guilt. I realized that if she could do hard things, I could too.
I went on LDS.org and requested Thea’s patriarchal blessing. I was further touched when I read, “The seed of thy womb shall rise up and call thee blessed among the women in Zion.” I realized that my profound respect for her was a fulfilment of that simple sentence. Thea’s love helped heal my heart of guilt and turn my heart to my ancestors. This was my first witness of Elder David A. Bednar’s promise that by participating in family history work, I would “be protected against the intensifying influences of the adversary” (Oct. 2011 general conference).
I feel an added measure of strength and clarity in my life as I continue to search out my family and learn their stories. By consistently participating in family history activities, I feel like I gained an entire army of allies who help me fight my spiritual battles. I can live without fear because “they that be with us [our ancestors] are more than they that be with them [Satan’s followers]” (2 Kings 6:16).
Although I haven’t found thousands of family names to take to the temple, I have learned my ancestors’ stories and sought out their families through careful research. I have taken the time to remember their lives and respect their legacies. I know that I have been strengthened and protected against Satan as I’ve filled my life with the light of my family.

When I was seven years old, our family tragically lost my younger brother, who was only six years old. It was a very hard time for my parents; the pain of losing such a young son was immense to them and perhaps very unfair. Instead of blaming someone or something, I saw my parents seek comfort in the gospel and in the Savior. This helped them to develop and to increase their faith in Christ and in the hope that one day they could see their beloved son again. That faith and hope which they developed over the years helped them bear the loss of their son with courage. The temple was one of the keys for them to gain enough understanding and strength to cope with this difficult physical separation. Because they had received the sacred ordinances of the temple many years before, these covenants gave them hope that they could one day rise up as parents and children again.

Growing up in the San Francisco Bay Area, my family was not affiliated with any religious group, nor were many of my friends. It had never really occurred to me that there was a God. My Sundays were spent going shopping or doing homework. I was content believing that when I died, my body would turn to soil and I would cease to exist.
When I was 14, my family moved to Salt Lake City, Utah. All of a sudden, I was with a community that had a completely different outlook on the world. At first I ridiculed them. I thought it was outrageous that my friends politely turned down my invitations to go to the movies on Sundays. I thought they were crazy for wasting a precious weekend day attending a three-hour church session. What could possibly be so fascinating at church that would make missing out on sleeping in worth it? How did my classmates survive without coffee the night before a big project was due? Why did they so willingly turn over 10 percent of their earnings to their church?
After I overcame my initial culture shock, I noticed something interesting. Despite their different ways, these LDS people were incredibly happy. In general they were friendly and had a fresh, enthusiastic outlook on life. Many of my friends were preparing to give two years of their lives to teaching people about their faith. This sparked my curiosity. Never before had I seen a religion in which the members were so excited about their faith, and so willing to invest much of their time and energy helping others. As far as I could see, there was no other motive for members to reach out to people except to bring happiness to those around them. So, I became an investigator.
When I told my friends I was interested in finding out more about the Church, they were overjoyed and very supportive. At first I had many questions about the Church and was skeptical about what it had to offer me. I was so intimidated by some of the details of Mormon culture that I failed to see the most important concepts. I felt awkward and embarrassed because I had to ask what stake conference was and what “bearing your testimony” meant. It wasn’t until I became familiar with the terminology and accustomed to the traditions that I started to seek answers to the truly important questions about the gospel.
Oftentimes, when I asked someone a question about the Church, such as “How can I know that Jesus Christ is our Savior?” the answer was, “Pray about it.” For someone who wasn’t sure that there was a God to pray to in the first place, this wasn’t a very helpful answer. When I asked about the history of the Nephites and the Lamanites, most people responded with, “Read about it in the Book of Mormon.” This wasn’t very helpful either, as I had a tendency to stumble over the language of the scriptures, which was very new to me.
However, the more I read my scriptures and the more I attended church, the stronger the urge became to pray about the decisions I was making and the church I was investigating. I began praying for a better understanding of the Church. I asked to receive an answer about whether this was the true Church. To my great surprise, I received an answer. It came in response to my seeking—a quiet, peaceful assurance from the Holy Ghost that what I was reading and praying about was true.
The Book of Mormon, which had been so difficult for me to understand, began to make more sense. The teachings of the prophet and other Church leaders touched my heart and took on new meaning. Waking up to spend three hours at church on Sunday morning no longer seemed like a great sacrifice. I knew that this was the true Church and that I was to join it.
A wonderful friend and her family generously offered to host missionary discussions at their home every week. A pair of kind, dedicated missionaries taught me and helped clear up questions I still had. I was fortunate to have a tremendous amount of support in learning the gospel. Several weeks after I started the missionary discussions I was ready to be baptized. Though my parents were not members of the Church and did not have an interest in joining, they were happy for me and supportive of my decision. My best friend baptized me and confirmed me. It was one of the happiest days of my life.
Even after I joined the Church and began preparing to obtain a temple recommend, I often struggled with some of the lifestyle changes I had made. I sorely missed cold ice tea on hot summer days. I sometimes felt embarrassed when I had to explain to friends who weren’t members that I didn’t want to see an R-rated movie with them.
However, when I remembered the eternal happiness I would receive if I kept the covenants I had made at my baptism and if I listened to the advice of Church leaders, those sacrifices felt more like blessings. I know that, as members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we can set a shining example to our communities. The help and support of loving Church members helped me make the decision to join the Church. It is my hope that the example of Latter-day Saints will continue to be a positive influence on the world and that many will come to know of this Church as the true Church of Jesus Christ.

“I shared a room with my sister. We liked to be together, but when we were very young we argued about who was taking more than her share of the bed. One day we decided to settle the problem. We took a crayon and drew a line right down the middle of the sheet. Mother didn’t like that solution and told us that we were not to do it again. When we were older, our parents told us that we could each have our own room. Dianne moved her things into another room, but it only lasted one night. We really preferred being together, so the next day she moved back.”

Scripture chasing is a popular pastime in many seminaries throughout the Church. In most cases seminary students learn to find scriptures within seconds after being given a clue or situation. Competition is intensified when youth are put on teams and given points for their speed and accuracy. And in the Champaign Illinois Stake, even the media took notice.
The students were given the challenge to memorize 40 scriptures in the Old Testament. The objective was to learn to locate the scriptures and then apply them in daily life. During practice sessions the students were given (1) a short clue, usually one word, (2) a verbal description of a life situation, or (3) a picture of some event. They then had to find the specific scripture in 15 seconds. The time was gradually reduced until each student could find every scripture in just a few seconds.
Out of 250 home-study and early morning seminary students in the Champaign Stake area, 15 became finalists in a run-off competition. In May 1976 the students with the fastest times formed three teams of five members each. Final competition between the teams was telecast over commercial television. The winning team, Robert Woolley, Carol Burdock, Deann Veach, Sue Ellen Emery, and Carol Retz, were given award plaques for their accomplishment.

“Is something bothering you?” Mom asked Isa as they rode the tram home from church.
Isa stared out at the canals that crisscrossed Amsterdam’s streets. “My Primary teacher said that having the priesthood in your home is a blessing,” Isa said. “But Dad doesn’t have the priesthood.”
“We can still have the priesthood in our home, even if your dad isn’t a member of the Church,” Mom said. “There are lots of worthy priesthood holders in the ward who can help you. What about Brother Van Leeuwen, our home teacher?”
Isa liked Brother Van Leeuwen. He always brought stroopwafels, Isa’s favorite cookie, and talked with her about science, her best subject. But at church, other children told about their dads giving them priesthood blessings when they were sick or upset. Isa couldn’t ask her dad for a blessing.
“I love Dad,” Isa said. “I just wish he had the priesthood.”
When they got home, Dad was in the kitchen cooking dinner. “How was church?” he called to them.
Isa didn’t reply. Instead she went into her bedroom and flopped down on the bed. She wished things were a little different.
The next week Isa had to take a big test at school. Every child in the Netherlands has to take a test when they are 12 years old to determine where they go to school next year. Even though Isa had been studying hard and was prepared, she was very nervous. The night before, her stomach felt like it was tied in knots. She couldn’t sleep. As she tossed and turned in bed, she remembered the lesson from Primary about asking for a priesthood blessing if you were afraid. Even though her dad couldn’t give her a blessing, she knew Heavenly Father would help her if she asked.
Isa got out of bed and walked into the living room. Mom was at work, but Dad was on the couch watching TV.
“Is everything OK?” Dad asked.
“I’m really nervous about the test tomorrow,” Isa said. “Do you think we could call Brother Van Leeuwen and ask him to give me a blessing?”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Dad said. “Let me give him a call.”
Soon Brother Van Leeuwen and his son Jaan came over and gave Isa a blessing. Brother Van Leeuwen asked Heavenly Father to help Isa not be nervous for the test and to help her do well. While Brother Van Leeuwen gave Isa the blessing, Dad sat on the couch and folded his arms and closed his eyes.
After the blessing Isa felt much better. Her stomach wasn’t so tight anymore, and she was even a little sleepy. “Good luck tomorrow,” Brother Van Leeuwen said as they left. “You’ve worked very hard, and I know Heavenly Father will help you do well.”
“I’m proud of you for having faith,” Dad said to Isa as he tucked her back into bed. “Even if I’m not a member of the Church, I’m glad that you believe in God, and I hope you know that I do too.”
“Thank you, Dad,” Isa said, and he kissed her on the cheek.
As she snuggled under her covers, Isa felt happy and peaceful. She was grateful to have a dad who loved her. She was glad her dad believed in Heavenly Father and Jesus. And she knew the priesthood could always bless her and her home.

Christmas was different that year. We were accustomed to lots of packages under the tree and well-stuffed stockings. Holidays usually brought mounds of divinity candy, mountains of fruitcake, and dozens of cookies. This year, however, we didn’t follow our normal holiday routines. Mama had died in the spring, taking our holiday rituals with her.
And if the emotional drain wasn’t enough, Daddy also had to bear the financial burden of Mama’s prolonged hospital stay. Even though he never said anything to us about how much—or how little—money we had, we sensed that there wouldn’t be much for Christmas that year.
Still, we celebrated Christmas Eve much as we had for the past several years at Aunt Winnie’s house. Gifts were stacked high, around and under the tree. The punch bowl was full and the table was spread with a variety of holiday treats. Aunt Winnie’s “kissing ball” was hung in the archway between the dining room and the living room. Everything was as it should be and everyone was there—aunts, uncles, cousins—everyone but Mama.
The ride home was filled with silence. It was late. Maybe we were tired. Maybe we left our Christmas spirit at Aunt Winnie’s.
Little brother was put to bed. The rest of us stayed up to get ready for Santa. We hung the stockings on the mantel and left some cookies on the hearth. Before turning out the lights, we took one more look at the tree. Daddy said that it was the most beautiful tree we had ever had. He was right; it was beautiful. It was round and fat and perfectly formed. It was just the right height for our living room, and every ornament was where it should be. Daddy said it was a shame Mama wasn’t there to see it. Then he turned out the lights, and we stood in the dark to see the special glow-in-the-dark icicles Mama had bought years before.
All was quiet as we stood there with our own memories and thoughts. The soft light of the icicles warmed my heart, and I finally felt the true Christmas spirit. I realized that life is not gone simply because the lights go out.
I still miss Mama. But I know we can be together again because a baby was born in Bethlehem so many Christmases ago. He lived and died and lived again. So will Mama.

In the late 1990s, my twenty-something self was all about pursuing my passions. After I had returned home from my mission in Paraguay, a study abroad in Mexico led me to change my major from biology to Spanish. I worked as a backcountry guide in the summer and a ski patroller in the winter. A mentor and I started two companies in the outdoor recreation industry. So naturally, when the time came to pursue a master’s degree, I chose parks, recreation, and tourism, with an emphasis in finance and marketing. Later, at the end of the 1990s, I worked in business development for a technology start-up. My life was busy and demanding, but it was also full of promise and always exciting.

Then things changed. In 2000, when the growth of all my business ventures was peaking, I began having impressions that I should return to school, complete a PhD, and, of all things, become a professor. I didn’t know anything about being a professor. But the impressions became clearer when I heard a talk by President Gordon B. Hinckley in which he counseled listeners to “get all of the education you can.”1 In 2001, without really knowing what I was getting myself into, I left the technology company and the two start-ups I had cofounded. Amy and I packed up our things in a U-Haul truck and drove south, away from our families in Utah, to College Station, Texas—in the middle of a hot and sweaty August.

I started classes and quickly became overwhelmed. I questioned if I had made a mistake. I sat in my tiny, windowless office—hour after hour, with a foul-mouthed office mate—asking myself how I could run another regression, review another paper, or evaluate one more ridiculous theoretical puzzle assigned to me by my professors. I was surrounded by people who seemed much smarter and more capable than I was. I worried that someone was going to figure out that I didn’t deserve to be there.

I remember writing my first academic paper. I spent days working to produce what I thought was a well-written manuscript. My professor returned the paper covered with red marks and critical comments. I walked outside to a wooded area near the business building. My hands crumpled the paper as I paced next to a small creek. I sobbed as I prayed out loud. I could not understand why God had prompted us to travel to this place only to let me fail.

I lay awake night after night contemplating how I would get out and how it all would end. I met with a counselor and tried medication to help. I even took up the habit of eating a huge bowl of Blue Bell ice cream every night—which did help a little! I prayed for answers, but none seemed to come. What was I to do?

In Texas, when everything seemed so hopeless to me, I dragged myself to sacrament meetings, fulfilled my callings, and kept praying for help—even though the heavens seemed closed. Those actions kept me in good places in the orbit of good people. They were my way of being faithful even though my path to future success felt tenuous. Rather than focusing on outcomes, which I mostly could not control, I spent time on inputs—the things I could control.

One day during my first October in graduate school, I was feeling particularly discouraged, unsuccessful, and marooned. The southern Texas weather was still balmy, and there were no colorful autumn vistas. I missed feeling the crisp air of a Utah fall and getting together with family for general conference.
Nothing felt awesome in Texas—not even my favorite hobbies. I had tried camping, but then I discovered fire ants. I had attempted kayaking in a river, but the signs warning of alligators scared me off. I was certain my life of pursuing my beloved passions was over. Forget about ­awesome—I longed for anything that just felt normal!
So between general conference sessions, Amy and I acted. We got on our bikes and rode, searching the neighborhoods and back roads in hopes that we might see some fall colors. We rode for over an hour and did not see a single autumn vista. Eventually we found ourselves down a beautiful, rural dirt road. Birds were chirping and toads were croaking under a vast Texas sky. We rounded a corner, and there it was: a tree with two branches of leaves that were turning color! They were mostly brown, not bright yellow or red, but it was something. It was a divine surprise. We cut off one of the small branches and placed it on our little kitchen table. It became a precious reminder to me that God was aware of my challenges and was giving me glimpses that He was there. While I did not find exactly what I was looking for that day, I received a reason to keep believing.

What we did in this little exercise made a big difference for me when I was in Texas. It struck me hard when President Hinckley said to “get all of the education you can.” But the feeling dissipated over the years. During those dark and difficult times in my doctoral program, even when I couldn’t feel or see God’s influence in my life, I reflected on that memory. And that memory gave me hope to keep going.

The actions I have shared—acting, remembering, and seeking thin places—were important choices that I began to practice during my PhD program, even on the days when I felt numb to the Spirit and had a difficult time remembering what hopefulness felt like. But slowly, as I practiced them, things began to change. The awe returned and darkness began to give way to more light. I studied until my brain hurt and got better at understanding the material. My office mate and I began exercising together and became close friends. My grades improved, and I started to realize that I was capable of doing the work.

With one assurance after another, the Lord nudged me to continue on. I began to notice Him in the simple details of my everyday life, in things I had previously taken for granted or been unable to enjoy: my interactions with classmates and professors, my daily bike rides to and from school, Wednesday night activities with the youth in the ward, and the remarkable goodness of my wife, Amy, whose love and support was constant and whose faith was unwavering. All of these small miracles had been there from the beginning of my journey, but I hadn’t been able to notice them.

I finished my PhD program, and nearly five years after beginning our adventure in Texas, I stood as a faculty member in front of my first class of students here at BYU—something I could never have imagined during that first semester of my doctoral program. After a student said an opening prayer, I had a distinct impression—a ­realization—that Heavenly Father had brought me to where I was. It was He who had made all of this happen as I gave my best efforts. This was truly a divine surprise.

[President Monson, reflecting on the teachings of President J. Reuben Clark Jr. (1871–1961), who served as a counselor in the First Presidency with three presidents of the Church:]
“It was my great privilege to know President Clark rather well. I was his printer. On occasion, he would share with me some of his most intimate thoughts, even those scriptures around which he tailored his teachings and lived his life. Late one evening I delivered some press proofs to his office situated in his home at 80 D Street here in Salt Lake City. President Clark was reading from Ecclesiastes. He was in a quiet and reflective mood. He sat back from his large desk, which was stacked with books and papers. He held the scriptures in his hand, lifted his eyes from the printed page, and read aloud to me: ‘Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man.’ (Eccl. 12:13.) He exclaimed, ‘A treasured truth! A profound philosophy!’ Through the years that conversation has remained bright in my memory. I love, I cherish the noble word duty.”1

The late Alvin R. Dyer faced something of this challenge when he was a bishop many years ago. He had a member of his ward who said that smoking was the greatest single enjoyment he got out of life. He said, “At night I set my alarm every hour on the hour and wake up to smoke a cigarette. Bishop, I love smoking just too much to give it up.”

A few evenings later the man’s doorbell rang at 10:00 p.m. There on the doorstep was Bishop Dyer.

“Well, Bishop, what on earth are you doing here at this hour? I’m ready to go to bed.”

“I know,” said Bishop Dyer. “I want to see you set that alarm and watch you wake up and smoke.”

“Good heavens, I can’t do that in front of you,” the man said.

“Oh, sure you can. Don’t worry about me. I’ll just sit in the corner somewhere and be very quiet.”

The man invited him in, and they talked about everything Bishop Dyer could conjure up to hold the man’s interest. “I pursued every idea and conversation I could think of to keep him speaking. I thought he was going to throw me out a number of times, but shortly after three o’clock in the morning I said, ‘Well, heavenly days! You’ve missed ?ve alarms already. Please forgive me! I have ruined your evening’s enjoyment. The night is such a disappointment now that you might as well just go to bed and forget the rest of the alarms this once!’”

Then note this language:
At that moment [I] felt [in him] a sense of honor and a dignity. . . . He looked at me with a peculiar smile . . . , and he said, “All right, I will.” [And] he never touched another cigarette [for the rest of his life].

John Howell suggested I meet with the full-time missionaries. Instead, I opted to have my brother and one of his friends, another returned missionary, teach me. As they taught me, I wanted external, incontrovertible evidence that what I was learning was true. Without that proof, I didn’t want any further discussions.
When I asked how they knew the truth, they replied, “We have read and prayed and felt a witness from the Holy Ghost.” They told me I needed that same witness.
That night I went into a grove of trees near my neighborhood. I don’t know how long I prayed, but I did so with absolute intent. I repeatedly asked God the same four questions: “Is the Book of Mormon the word of God? Did You and Your Son appear to Joseph Smith? Is this the true Church of Jesus Christ? Am I good enough to be a member?”
The answer to each question came in a whisper to my soul—“Yes”—four times. Those whispers were accompanied by serene and sublime feelings.
With my head bowed, kneeling in prayer and drenched with tears, I exclaimed: “If this is the answer You will give to me, then I accept it and will commit my life fully to You and this gospel as You reveal it to me.” Words cannot express the thoughts, feelings, and truths that enveloped me.
The witness I received that night was incontrovertible, and it’s as strong now as it was then. Since that prayer, God has proved those answers to me in thousands of miraculous and practical ways.

The woodland was under a heavy shroud of cloud cover that weekend. Rain filtered through the air, and the cameramen waited patiently to expose their film. It rained, and they prayed. And it rained some more. If the filmmakers were unable to complete filming in that one week during the spring of 1975, the project would have to wait a year until the surroundings were right again. The season would soon change, and to add to the problems, the lead actor had to leave the following Friday. On Monday morning the crew awoke before dawn and began to set up all their equipment, thinking somehow they could compensate for the weather. But suddenly it stopped raining. When the sun came up, they beheld the loveliest mist they had ever seen. The tall, wet grasses sparkled, and the birds burst forth in song, and they knew they had been blessed with a beauty they could never have produced themselves.
That morning the Brigham Young University Department of Film Production began filming scenes for the First Vision. Stewart Petersen, who played the Prophet Joseph, walked through those tall grasses with thoughts of that other “beautiful, clear day, early in the spring of eighteen hundred and twenty” (JS—H 1:14) when Joseph Smith humbly prayed for an answer to his question, “Which of all the churches should I join?”
The First Vision is a historical film commissioned by the Church for release as a teaching aid and missionary tool. The script follows Joseph Smith’s own account of the spring of 1820 in Palmyra, New York, when, after reading and pondering James 1:5, he decided to ask of God which church was true.
The singular beauty of that first morning was followed by a week of busy filming. By Thursday renewed bad weather set in—more clouds and more rain. By the end of the day there was still one important scene that needed to be put on film—and that scene had to be filmed in bright sunlight. It was the scene where Joseph runs toward his home on a bright sunny day. So Friday morning they set up an 18-foot scaffold for their cameras in the center of the field that lay between the grove and Joseph’s home. They offered another special prayer and waited. After what seemed like hours the clouds parted. The cameras rolled. Just before the scene ended, the clouds closed in again, and darkness prevailed. “That’s all we got,” said David Jacobs, producer-director, “but that was all we needed—it’s the scene that opens the film.”
In Joseph’s own account of the First Vision he tells of entering the grove and kneeling to supplicate the Lord. Suddenly he felt a literal darkness—“some power which entirely overcame me … the power of some actual being from the unseen world.” (JS—H 1:15–16.) How to handle the feeling of such an evil influence was hard to conceptualize and then transfer onto film. On the plane to New York the week before, David Jacobs had been studying some research material on a recently discovered account of the vision written by Joseph.
A couple of sentences jumped out at him as he read: Joseph said, “I heard a noise behind me like some one walking toward me. I strove again to pray, but could not; the noise of walking seemed to draw nearer. I sprang upon my feet and looked around, but saw no person or thing that was calculated to produce the noise of walking.” (As quoted in Dean Jesse, “Early Accounts of the First Vision,” BYU Studies, Spring 1969, p. 284.) “I knew instantly,” Dave said, “that this was how I wanted to get into the darkness scene. It was dramatic. It was true.”
But the most difficult scene was that portraying the Father and the Son. Whether to even show the divine vision was a major decision because of its sacred nature. Then one of the General Authorities mentioned to Jesse Stay (director of the Department of Film Production) that he felt that one of the most important messages of the First Vision was the fact that the Father and the Son were separate and distinct beings—contrary to the universal approach of the three-in-one Godhead. The decision was made: the Father and the Son are represented in the film.
Making a Church film such as the First Vision is different from any other filmmaking. Each of the workers involved—sound men, cameramen, actors, director, costume and makeup crew—all are devotedly intent on its success for unique and unselfish reasons. They know of the potential missionary impact and they know of the testimonies it could strengthen if the job is done right. Brother Jacobs said, “They’d laugh at me in ‘the industry’ for saying it, but I believe if a person is moved spiritually by the film, it’s because the Lord has blessed our efforts.”

The covenant of a temple marriage may seem distant, either because it appears unattainable or because the cares of a busy life have eroded the meaning it had when the covenants were made. But every child of God is promised every blessing if they are faithful. And where those covenants were made, the blessings are still available. In just the last few days I heard a young girl report a night of baby-sitting. That doesn’t sound very celestial, and it had its challenges for her. But the reports of little kindnesses shown, of patience, of long-suffering, made me think of a passage of scripture that may not have occurred to her that night. It goes this way:

No power or influence can or ought to be maintained by virtue of the priesthood, only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned. [D&C 121:41]

This young girl may not have been thinking of marriage and of the home she may someday have, of children, and of a priesthood holder in it as her companion. But she was choosing that night to live in such a way that if someday God gave her such blessings, those children and that husband would experience and expect, simply by her example, the kind of care that is given by the true servants of God. And if she were so blessed, her husband would be drawn upward in his priesthood service just by what that little girl, grown older, would bring to that home and family.

Often, the activation energy needed for blessings requires more than just looking or asking; ongoing, repeated, faith-filled actions are required. In the middle of the 19th century, Brigham Young directed a group of Latter-day Saints to explore and settle Arizona, an arid region in North America. After reaching Arizona, the group ran out of water and feared they would perish. They pled with God for help. Soon rain and snow fell, allowing them to fill their barrels with water and provide for their livestock. Grateful and refreshed, they returned to Salt Lake City rejoicing in the goodness of God. Upon their return, they reported the details of their expedition to Brigham Young and pronounced their conclusion that Arizona was uninhabitable.

After listening to the report, Brigham Young asked a man in the room what he thought about the expedition and the miracle. That man, Daniel W. Jones, tersely replied, “I would have filled up, went on, and prayed again.” Brother Brigham put his hand on Brother Jones and said, “This is the man that shall take charge of the next trip to Arizona.”

Truman was among the first group of Saints to enter the Salt Lake Valley in 1847. Two years earlier he had been told in a patriarchal blessing that “thy calling is more particularly to labor in assisting the Saints to build cities and temples than traveling abroad to preach the gospel.” His abilities as an architect were recognized by President Brigham Young, and soon Truman was busy designing homes, schools, churches, a sugar factory, forts, stores, a penitentiary, a theater, a governor’s mansion, and most importantly, temples.

Many beautiful buildings still stand today as proof of Truman Angell’s architectural talent. The Salt Lake and St. George temples, Brigham Young’s Beehive House, the Lion House, and the Eagle Gate are just a few examples of his work.

Truman considered his work a calling rather than a job. Most workers donated a tenth of their time to Church projects, but full-time workers like Truman were paid in tithing scrip, which could be exchanged for groceries, clothing, and other necessities.

Truman studied architectural design and innovations in building. The constant pressure of being the Church’s architect was strain on his health, so Brigham Young called him to serve a mission in Europe. There he was not only to preach to the people, but also to visit the great buildings and study the architectural styles. He had been on his mission for thirteen months when he was called to return to help with the Salt Lake Temple.

Work on the temple did not progress very rapidly at first. There were several delays, such as the time United States President James Buchanan sent federal troops to Utah with a new governor to replace Brigham Young. The Saints, remembering the mob violence of the East, were not going to allow their new homes and lands to be plundered again. They stripped their homes of valuables and filled them with straw to be set afire if and when hostile troops came. Even the foundation of the temple was covered with dirt, making it appear to be only a plowed field. Fortunately, a peaceful settlement was reached before the troops arrived in Salt Lake.

As the building of the temple progressed, Truman sought the advice and counsel of President Young almost every step of the way. There were many details that had to be taken care of, and the work required Truman’s constant supervision. All his efforts were devoted to serving the Lord, despite constant poor health and personal heartaches.

Truman Angell did not live to see the completion of the beautiful Salt Lake Temple. It was dedicated in April 1893, and this year marks the 100th anniversary of that great event. This majestic structure stands as a monument to Brother Angell’s and other Saints’ dedication in building the Lord’s kingdom here on earth.

While I share a personal story about the importance of listening to the promptings of the Holy Ghost and having the courage to act, I invite you to ponder what this might look like in your life. What role does the Holy Ghost play in your prophetic commission to help gather Israel?

Several years ago, I was the recipient of a simple act of service that strengthened my relationship with my Heavenly Father in a very profound and personal way. I was in the middle of battling an extremely aggressive cancer.

One week, after spending three days in the infusion room, I collapsed on the couch trembling and depleted. Several hours later, I woke up to the sound of my son coming home from school. I could not move. The bone and tissue pain had set in for the week and blisters filled my mouth and throat. I had not eaten much that day and was starving. However, the thought of moving my mouth to chew or swallow was more than I could bear.

As I laid motionless on the couch assessing the awfulness of my situation, in my mind I began to ask the following questions: “Heavenly Father, do you know that I am here? Do you know what I am going through? Do you care?”

Then, the doorbell rang. My son went to answer it and came back holding a 99-cent, half-melted Frosty with the instructions, “Here, give this to your mom.” It tasted amazing! It was the perfect consistency and melted just enough where I could swallow with little effort and yet still cold enough for it to be soothing as it went down.

I could not believe it! I found out later that a dear sister started off her morning with a prayer for me and my family. Then, later that day while driving in her car, the impression came, “Take Amy a Frosty now!” She knew where this impression came from and acted immediately.

I have contemplated often how she must have felt and the courage that it would have taken, knowing that on the other side of our front door was a family in crisis, barely keeping their heads above the water. And her offering? A half-melted, 99-cent Frosty. I did not know what I needed in that moment, but my Heavenly Father did! How grateful I am for this ministering angel who had the faith to listen to the promptings of the Spirit and the courage to act!