Gospel Story Finder

Still, there were happy memories of his school days. Martin and several of his schoolmates formed a choir and sang Latin chants at St. George’s Church across the square from the school. Among Martin’s good friends at school were some older boys who would carry their young friend to school on their backs when the wintry roads became clogged with mud. Many years later, as a fond remembrance, Martin gave one of those boys a Bible in which he had written: “To my dear old friend, Nicolas Oemler, who often carried me, a schoolboy, on his back to and from school.”

Montreal—On the Montreal Star daily newspaper works a young Latter-day Saint, Margaret J. Ellis. Here is her report about what it was like to be in the middle of the recent Canadian crisis:
“As I stood conducting the music for sacrament service, I couldn’t help but notice the somber faces before me. Only a few hours before had come the news that Quebec Labor and Immigration Minister Pierre Laporte had been killed by terrorists. All of Canada was shocked.
After the meeting, everyone stood around and talked. Even now we keep talking about it. Said one youth: ‘I’m surprised this happened in Quebec. I didn’t think the FLQ (Front de Liberation du Quebec) was serious about things.’ It typified the thoughts of many others.
“‘The Quebec situation reminds me of the tower of Babel—it seems that the French and English can no longer communicate in love and brotherhood. So many think they must use violence,’ said one.
“Said another young adult: ‘I didn’t relate to it because it seemed remote. But then I realized that sick people were behind it, and I tried to imagine how I’d feel if I didn’t have the gospel. We Latter-day Saints stick together because of the gospel, but many others here seemed really tossed to and fro.’ Said another: ‘My two brothers were out until 2:00 A.M. the night of Mr. Laporte’s murder. I’ve never been so concerned for their safety or loved them so much.’
“Many of the Saints turned to speaking about the last days and about the sorrow and trouble and fear that will precede Christ’s second coming. We talked about how it seems to be Satan’s plan to frighten mankind. We talked of the importance of listening to the prophet’s voice and communicating with our Heavenly Father through fasting and prayer so we will know what is best for each of us when troubled times come. As we talked of prophecies, we agreed that, in general, conditions on earth apparently will worsen, but that each of us can be prepared.
“Later I joined the thousands of people who thronged to the stone courthouse in Old Montreal to pay their last respects to Pierre Laporte. I never put enough warm clothes on, I thought for an instant while waiting in the endless line. One hour, two, three. My feet were numb. I could hardly walk. There was still no visible sign of anyone going in.
“I now had time to ponder the events, which had not hit me with complete impact until I stepped out onto a dreary, barren street, lined with dingy warehouses, to hear the tolling bell. There were people from all walks of life—businessmen in suits and mustaches, hippies in long hair and jeans, fashion-conscious models, old ladies moving slower than the rest.
“‘I would have brought a friend along, but everyone I asked was afraid to come,’ one woman said.
“Soldiers paced the pavement, their heels clicking into the awesome silence. French and English mingled together. ‘Pardon, Madame. Avez-vous l’heure?’ ‘Yes, it’s almost 10:30.’
“There’s something humbling about a vast crowd, something that reaffirms the fact that you are one of many and must take your turn.
“As we shuffled on, I noticed that as the multitude thinned and dispersed, a chill went up my back. A cold, biting breeze hit me. Standing alone it seemed a cold world—people were warmed only by getting together. I thought, What can I do to help? How can I best serve a nation?
“To me, service is the act of supporting that in which you believe. I used to feel that because I was not a born leader with a responsible position, I could not serve mankind. But I realized that night on the street in Montreal that most of us must follow, but we can be responsible for choosing what we will support. Montreal still stands. But all Canadians have learned something about supporting one another—and choosing carefully the causes they support.”

There are many modern day Calebs and Joshuas. One such man was my wife’s grandfather John Hulme. One day in 1926, the bishop had a conversation with John. The bishop brought up the topic of a mission. This caught John off guard.

John had always wanted to serve a mission, but his life was complicated. Why? Because John was 42 years old. He was a married man with four children, ages 15, 12, 4, and 2. He was a self-employed rancher. He had land and cattle that would need supervision while he was away. He would have to find a way to make sure his family and property were taken care of while he was gone.

The bishop told John that this was not an official call, just a suggestion. John told the bishop he would think about it and let him know the next day.

John sought out the bishop early the next morning and said he would accept the call to serve. That morning, after what was probably a very sleepless night, John did not know how he would make arrangements to serve a mission. He only knew he would serve. Like Caleb and Joshua, he knew God would help him find a way. And God did. John was able to hire a neighbor to care for his land and his cattle, and the ward and community rallied to support his wife and children.

It must have been quite a culture shock when John, a rancher from a small town, arrived to serve his mission in New York City.

John came from a small country town with a population of about 500. He was accustomed to riding a horse and working the land. When he was called to serve in New York City, it must have been quite a culture shock. He probably felt like a grasshopper among giants. But John served a successful mission. His example has given his posterity the desire to place their trust in God regardless of the obstacles and unknowns. “With God nothing shall be impossible” (Luke 1:37).

One of the guidelines in For the Strength of Youth states: “Through your dress and appearance, you can show the Lord that you know how precious your body is. You can show that you are a disciple of Jesus Christ.”

After studying these words, one young woman realized that perhaps some of her clothes were not completely modest. Through prayer and study of the scriptures, she was reminded that she was a disciple of Jesus Christ and that, as His representative, she needed to make some changes. She didn’t want to have anything in her wardrobe that was a temptation, so she went through her closet and drawers and got rid of anything that wasn’t modest. She said, “I would be smart if I didn’t even try on anything in stores that I knew I shouldn’t wear. Why be tempted?” That firm resolve showed the Lord that she respected her body, and she drove down a deep stake for modesty.

Another young woman in the class recognized that her choices in clothing were affecting the way her little sister was dressing. A line in For the Strength of Youth states: “Your dress and grooming send messages about you to others and influence the way you and others act.” She decided to make some changes in her clothing, realizing that she had a responsibility to be a good example to her little sister. She drove her stake down more deeply and influenced her sister’s clothing choices.

The Consequences of Our Actions
Shortly after my sweetheart, Devonna, and I were married, she shared with me a story about how she learned in her youth this important doctrine that we are free to choose but that we are not free to choose the consequences of our actions. With the help of my daughter Shelly, I would like to relate Sister Arnold’s experience:
“When I was 15 years old, I often felt that there were too many rules and commandments. I wasn’t sure that a normal, fun-loving teenager could enjoy life with so many restrictions. Furthermore, the many hours spent working on my father’s ranch were seriously dipping into my time with my friends.
“This particular summer, one of my jobs was to ensure that the cows grazing on the mountain pasture did not break through the fence and get into the wheat field. A cow grazing on the growing wheat can bloat, causing suffocation and death. One cow in particular was always trying to stick her head through the fence. One morning, as I was riding my horse along the fence line checking on the cattle, I found that the cow had broken through the fence and gotten into the wheat field. To my dismay, I realized that she had been eating wheat for quite some time because she was already bloated and looked much like a balloon. I thought, ‘You stupid cow! That fence was there to protect you, yet you broke through it and you have eaten so much wheat that your life is in danger.’
“I raced back to the farmhouse to get my dad. However, when we returned, I found her lying dead on the ground. I was saddened by the loss of that cow. We had provided her with a beautiful mountain pasture to graze in and a fence to keep her away from the dangerous wheat, yet she foolishly broke through the fence and caused her own death.
“As I thought about the role of the fence, I realized that it was a protection, just as the commandments and my parents’ rules were a protection. The commandments and rules were for my own good. I realized that obedience to the commandments could save me from physical and spiritual death. That enlightenment was a pivotal point in my life.”
Elder Mervyn B. Arnold of the Seventy

It was just another day of flooding after heavy rains hit southern Louisiana. But when Esther Cox’s two-year-old son, Matthew, fell into the deep, swift current of a nearby ditch, it became the worst day of her life. By the time Esther’s husband, George, found Matthew, he had been in the water for 15 minutes.
The waiting room at the hospital was overflowing with members supporting us. When our bishop came to the hospital and gave Matthew a blessing, all I could remember were the words that Matthew was “going to be fine”—but not in my time, in God’s time. I felt comfort. We prayed and we just knew everything would be OK. No matter what Matthew’s issues would be, we had faith that it would be fine.
They call Matthew’s condition “near drowning with hypoxia,” which means brain damage from lack of oxygen. It was the worst day of my life, but Heavenly Father gave him back to me. He’s still my baby. I’ve been taking care of him for 20 years. We have our ups and downs, but he’s a blessing. He’s great. And Heavenly Father has helped me through it all.
“No matter what Matthew’s issues would be, we had faith that it would be fine. And it has been,” says Esther. “Heavenly Father has helped me through it all.”

A few years ago, our little family went through what many families face in this fallen world. Our youngest son, Tanner Christian Lund, contracted cancer. He was an incredible soul, as nine-year-olds tend to be. He was hilariously mischievous and, at the same time, stunningly spiritually aware. Imp and angel, naughty and nice. When he was little and was every day bewildering us with his shenanigans, we wondered if he was going to grow up to be the prophet or a bank robber. Either way, it seemed that he was going to leave a mark on the world.
And then he became desperately ill. Over the next three years, modern medicine employed heroic measures, including two bone marrow transplants, where he caught pneumonia, requiring him to spend 10 weeks unconscious on a ventilator. Miraculously, he recovered for a short time, but then his cancer returned.
Shortly before he passed away, Tanner’s disease had invaded his bones, and even with strong pain medicines, still he hurt. He could barely get out of bed. One Sunday morning, his mom, Kalleen, came into his room to check on him before the family left for church. She was surprised to see that he had somehow gotten himself dressed and was sitting on the edge of his bed, painfully struggling to button his shirt. Kalleen sat down by him. “Tanner,” she said, “are you sure you are strong enough to go to church? Maybe you should stay home and rest today.”
He stared at the floor. He was a deacon. He had a quorum. And he had an assignment.
“I’m supposed to pass the sacrament today.”
“Well, I’m sure someone could do that for you.”
“Yes,” he said, “but … I see how people look at me when I pass the sacrament. I think it helps them.”
So Kalleen helped him button his shirt and tie his tie, and they drove to church. Clearly, something important was happening.
I came to church from an earlier meeting and so was surprised to see Tanner sitting on the deacons’ row. Kalleen quietly told me why he was there and what he had said: “It helps people.”
And so I watched as the deacons stepped to the sacrament table. He leaned gently against another deacon as the priests passed them the bread trays. And then Tanner shuffled to his appointed place and took hold of the end of the pew to steady himself as he presented the sacrament.
It seemed that every eye in the chapel was on him, moved by his struggle as he did his simple part. Somehow Tanner expressed a silent sermon as he solemnly, haltingly moved from row to row—his bald head moist with perspiration—representing the Savior in the way that deacons do. His once indomitable deacon’s body was itself a little bruised, broken, and torn, willingly suffering to serve by bearing the emblems of the Savior’s Atonement into our lives.
Seeing how he had come to think about being a deacon made us think differently too—about the sacrament, about the Savior, and about deacons and teachers and priests.
I wonder at the unspoken miracle that had impelled him that morning to respond so bravely to that still, small call to serve, and about the strength and capacities of all of our emergent youth as they push themselves to respond to a prophet’s call to enlist in God’s battalions and join in the work of salvation and exaltation.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has blessed the lives of Russians since at least 1895. In that year, Johan and Alma Lindelof were baptized in St. Petersburg. Years earlier, Brother Lindelof had heard the gospel preached in his native Finland when a missionary taught and baptized his mother. Later, Johan, a skilled goldsmith, and his wife, Alma, moved to Russia. Sixteen years later, Elder August Hoglund was sent to Russia in response to letters the Lindelofs had written to the Scandinavian Mission president. They were baptized in June 1895 in the Neva River in St. Petersburg.
After joining the Church, the Lindelofs were visited occasionally by missionaries. By 1903, when Elder Francis M. Lyman of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles offered two prayers of dedication in Russia, one in St. Petersburg and one in Moscow, two of the Lindelof children had also been baptized. Many felt the Lindelof family would play a prominent role in bringing the gospel to Russia. Had it not been for the Bolshevik Revolution in 1917, that expectation might have been realized.
In 1918, in an apparent attempt to dispossess the wealthy Lindelofs, the family was imprisoned in a labor camp, their home ravaged and their property confiscated. Of the seven children, only one son and one daughter survived. Two daughters are known to have died in exile. The fate of the other three children is unknown.1

For example, David thought there might be something funny about the signs he sees on doors that say, “This door must remain unlocked during business hours.” Then he tried to imagine a situation where that sign would be funny.
“I had an inmate at a prison write this on a sign,” said David, “and post it on the prison door with a guard reading it and unlocking the door. The caption said, ‘Mel knew it was a long shot, but somehow it worked.’”

When my children were young, I gave them a priesthood blessing each year before school started. One year, my daughter was going through a hard time. I didn’t really understand what she was going through and felt frustrated.
Something happened when I put my hands on her head and began to give her a blessing. Through the power of the Holy Ghost, the Lord helped me see my daughter as a wonderful and magnificent daughter of God. My perspective completely changed. I wasn’t frustrated anymore.
Heavenly Father helped me see my daughter as special and unique. I know that you are amazing too! You are beautiful and filled with divine talents and abilities. You really are a child of heavenly parents. And I believe that is true of every single child on earth. You are special and divine.

I began to evaluate my testimony in my late teens, when I enrolled at the University of Utah as a science student. I didn’t want to believe the gospel just because my mother and father said it was true. I wanted to know for myself. I needed my own light. I didn’t set out to challenge the gospel, but rather to discover its truth for myself.
I was a science student at the university, and I had heard some people say that science and religion are not compatible, that no one who is well educated can also have a testimony of the gospel. But I found out that this is not true. As a youth striving to get my own testimony and also as an aspiring scientist, I was overjoyed to find how comfortably science and religion fit together. I would like to share several insights that show how they fit.
Some people point out that science deals only with tangible, observable quantities: we can measure them on scales, or read them on ammeters, or count them electronically. These critics charge that religion is less reliable because it deals with faith and revelation, which we cannot touch or measure. But this distinction is not really accurate.
For example, I wrote my dissertation at the University of California at Berkeley on pion-nucleon interactions. I never saw a pion or a nucleon. I couldn’t touch them. And yet I published a scientific article on them.
We learn about inductance or magnetic field lines or capacitance. Has anyone seen or felt inductance or a magnetic field or capacitance? No; we can only measure their effects. So scientists sometimes also deal with the intangible, and they do this without intellectual embarrassment.
The scientific method of discovering truth is to forget one’s prejudices and make decisions in terms of the available data. This method also applies to gospel learning. The Lord gives us several examples of using this method. Concerning tithing, he said: “Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, … and prove me now herewith … if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.” (Mal. 3:10.) That is an experiment. Many people have testified that they’ve tried the experiment and that it works.
Alma also says, “Experiment upon my words.” (Alma 32:27.) He then goes on to compare the word to a seed that, if we will water and feed and nurture with faith, will let us know whether the message is good.
The Savior gave us another example. He said that if we want to know whether his doctrine is true and comes from the Father, we must “do his will.” Then, he promised, we “shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself.” (John 7:17.) This is like the scientific method—simply judging on the basis of the data.
Some say that science has nothing to do with faith. But that is obviously not true. In the seventeenth century, the Italian astronomer Galileo invented telescopes that let him see farther into the heavens than man had seen before. He observed that the moon was not a smooth sphere shining by its own light. Instead, it has mountains and valleys, and its light is reflected. Galileo agreed with Copernicus that the earth moves around the sun, rather than being the center of the universe with everything turning around it.
Because these observations did not agree with the teachings of Aristotle and the Catholic Church, Galileo was subjected to a long trial and was punished for his beliefs. But he never lost faith in his discovery. His confident belief in what he had discovered was much like that confidence we call faith.
Of course, science and religion are not in perfect harmony. There is some disagreement over evolution, for example. Genesis, the Book of Moses, and the Book of Abraham tell us that God created the world, that he had a purpose in doing it, and that man is very important in that purpose. But these scriptures are not a handbook on how God created the worlds. They just say that he did it. Someday he will let us know how he did it. Science is theorizing on the how, but there need be no conflict when we remember what the Lord has told us and what he hasn’t.
I have faith that in due time the Lord will fulfill all the prophecies and predictions he has made and that these things will come about just as he has told us they will. Actually, if we have eyes to see, we have seen many of these fulfillments taking place in our day.
When I was a child, my family would put together a huge jigsaw puzzle each Christmas, one that would take a week to finish, with thousands of small, look-alike pieces. Each piece fit in only one place, and we could complete the picture only by placing each piece correctly. When the Lord allows the scientists to discover all their parts, and he sees fit to reveal his part, the “picture” of what scientists have learned and the “picture” of what God has done will be the same.
This is how I have come to look at the plan of the Lord. We need to stop worrying about each small piece and try to fit the whole picture together by keeping in mind the end result. The Lord knows where each piece goes and how it fits into his plan. Each of us should help by putting ourself, an intricate and important piece of that puzzle, in the proper place.

Many years ago, soon after I was baptized, I heard a sister testify in sacrament meeting of the feelings she had while doing family history work. Suddenly I began to cry like a child. At the time I didn’t know what was happening to me. I later learned that the Lord was testifying to me through the Spirit that what the sister was saying was true and that I needed to do family history and temple work for my own ancestors.

I was at church, and I was listening to the talks. Someone said, “a service is service no matter how small.” And that gave me an idea. I called it “The Service Club.” I took paper and a few markers and made invitation cards. Then I cut them out and gave them away.
Last Sunday was the first meeting, and we decided to do nice sidewalk chalk messages at the homes of people who needed encouragement. We did that for six families! I feel good that we did the service club. I’m glad we did service. The club’s motto is “a service is service no matter how small.”

One who listened and who followed was the Mormon missionary Randall Ellsworth, about whom you may have read in your daily newspaper or watched on the television set in your home.
Six months ago, while serving in Guatemala as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Randall Ellsworth survived the devastating earthquake which hurled a beam down on his back, paralyzed his legs, and severely damaged his kidneys.
After receiving emergency medical treatment, Randall was flown to a large hospital near his home in Rockville, Maryland. While confined there, a television newscaster conducted with Randall an interview which I witnessed through the miracle of television. The reporter asked, “Can you walk?” The answer, “Not yet, but I will.” “Do you think you will be able to complete your mission?” Came the reply, “Others think not, but I will.”
With microphone in hand, the reporter continued: “I understand you have received a special letter containing a get-well message from none other than the president of the United States.” “Yes,” replied Randall, “I am very grateful to President Ford for his thoughtfulness; but I received another letter, not from the president of my country, but from the president of my church—The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—even President Spencer W. Kimball. This I cherish. With him praying for me, and the prayers of my family, my friends, and my missionary companions, I will return to Guatemala. The Lord wanted me to preach the gospel there for two years, and that’s what I intend to do.”
I turned to my wife and commented, “He surely must not know the extent of his injuries. Our official medical reports would not permit us to expect such a return to Guatemala.”
How grateful am I that the day of faith and the age of miracles are not past history but continue with us even now.
The newspapers and the television cameras directed their attention to more immediate news as the days turned to weeks and the weeks to months. The words of Rudyard Kipling described Randall Ellsworth’s situation:
The tumult and the shouting dies;
The Captains and the Kings depart:
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
Rudyard Kipling’s Verse, Garden City, New York: Doubleday, 1946, p. 327.
And God did not forget him who possessed an humble and a contrite heart, even Elder Randall Ellsworth. Little by little the feeling in his legs began to return. In his own words, Randall described the recovery: “The thing I did was always to keep busy, always pushing myself. In the hospital I asked to do therapy twice a day instead of just once. I wanted to walk again on my own.”
When the Missionary Committee evaluated the amazing medical progress Randall Ellsworth had made, word was sent to him that his return to Guatemala was authorized. Said he, “At first I was so happy I didn’t know what to do. Then I went into my bedroom and I started to cry. Then I dropped to my knees and thanked my Heavenly Father.”
Two months ago Randall Ellsworth walked aboard the plane that carried him back to the mission to which he was called and back to the people whom he loved. Behind he left a trail of skeptics, a host of doubters, but also hundreds amazed at the power of God, the miracle of faith, and the reward of determination. Ahead lay honest, God-fearing, and earnestly seeking sons and daughters of our Heavenly Father. They shall hear His word. They shall learn His truth. They shall accept His ordinances. A modern-day Paul, who too overcame his “thorn in the flesh,” has returned to teach them the truth, to lead them to life eternal.

My grandmother Marta Cziesla was a wonderful example of doing “small and simple things” to bring great things to pass. We lovingly called her Oma Cziesla. Oma embraced the gospel in the small village of Selbongen in East Prussia together with my great-grandmother on May 30, 1926.
Marta Cziesla (right) on the day of her baptism.
She loved the Lord and His gospel and was determined to keep the covenants she had made. In 1930 she married my grandfather, who was not a member of the Church. At this point it became impossible for Oma to attend Church meetings because my grandfather’s farm was far away from the nearest congregation. But she focused on what she could do. Oma continued to pray, read the scriptures, and sing the songs of Zion.
Some people might have thought she was no longer active in her faith, but that was far from the truth. When my aunt and my father were born, with no priesthood in the home and no Church meetings or access to ordinances nearby, she again did what she could do and focused on teaching her children “to pray, and to walk uprightly before the Lord.” She read to them from the scriptures, sang with them the songs of Zion, and of course prayed with them—every day. A 100 percent home-centered Church experience.
In 1945 my grandfather was serving in the war far away from home. When enemies approached their farm, Oma took her two little children and left their beloved farm behind to seek refuge in a safer place. After a difficult and life-threatening journey, they finally found refuge in May of 1945 in northern Germany. They had nothing left except the clothes on their bodies. But Oma continued with what she was able to do: she prayed with her children—every day. She sang with them the songs of Zion she had memorized by heart—every day.
Life was extremely hard and for many years focused on simply making sure there was food on the table. But in 1955 my dad, then 17 years old, was going to trade school in the city of Rendsburg. He walked by a building and saw a small sign on the outside that read “Kirche Jesu Christi der Heiligen der Letzten Tage”—“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” He thought, “That is interesting; this is Mother’s church.” So when he came home, he told Oma that he had found her church.
You can imagine how she must have felt after almost 25 years of no contact with the Church. She was determined to attend the next Sunday and convinced my father to accompany her. Rendsburg was more than 20 miles (32 km) away from the little village where they lived. But this would not keep Oma from attending church. The next Sunday, she got on her bicycle together with my father and rode to church.
When the sacrament meeting started, my dad sat down in the last row, hoping it would be over soon. This was Oma’s church and not his. What he saw was not very encouraging: only a few older women in attendance and two young missionaries who effectively ran everything in the meeting. But then they started to sing, and they sang the songs of Zion that my dad had heard since he was a little boy: “Come, Come, Ye Saints,” “O My Father,” “Praise to the Man.” Hearing this little flock sing the songs of Zion he’d known since childhood pierced his heart, and he knew immediately and without a doubt that the Church was true.
The first sacrament meeting my grandmother attended after 25 years was the meeting where my father received a personal confirmation of the truthfulness of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. He was baptized three weeks later, on September 25, 1955, together with my grandfather and my aunt.
It has been more than 70 years since that tiny sacrament meeting in Rendsburg. I often think about Oma, how she must have felt in those lonely nights, doing the small and simple things she was able to do, like praying, reading, and singing. As I stand here today in general conference and talk about my Oma, her determination to keep her covenants and trust in the Lord notwithstanding her struggles fills my heart with humility and gratitude—not only for her but for so many of our wonderful Saints throughout the world who focus on the simplicity in Christ in their challenging circumstances, perhaps seeing little change now but trusting that great things will come to pass some day in the future.

Last April, two days after general conference, we held our first meeting as a newly sustained presidency. We hiked to the top of Ensign Peak, and as we looked on the valley below, we saw the temple with the angel Moroni shining in the sun. For each of us, it was clear. The vision for our presidency was the temple. And our responsibility was also clear. We must “help prepare each young woman to be worthy to make and keep sacred covenants and receive the ordinances of the temple.”
The temple is the reason for everything we do in the Church. The temple was the reason our pioneer ancestors left their established homes and came west. It was the reason they suffered privation and even death. Temple covenants were the reason that, although babies were buried along the way, those pioneers could sing:
Come, come, ye Saints,
No toil nor labor fear;
But with joy wend your way.
Some lost everything but came into the valley with everything, really—temple ordinances, sacred covenants, and the promise of eternal life together as families.
Just two days after the Saints arrived in the Salt Lake Valley, Brigham Young and his associates hiked Ensign Peak. Atop that peak they unfurled a banner—a yellow bandana tied to a walking stick, which symbolized an ensign or standard to the nations. The Saints were to be the light, the standard. Last April, atop Ensign Peak, we three women also unfurled a banner which we made from a walking stick and a gold Peruvian shawl. It was our ensign, our standard to the nations—our banner calling for a return to virtue.
Virtue is a prerequisite to entering the Lord’s holy temples and to receiving the Spirit’s guidance. Virtue “is a pattern of thought and behavior based on high moral standards.” It encompasses chastity and moral purity. Virtue begins in the heart and in the mind. It is nurtured in the home. It is the accumulation of thousands of small decisions and actions. Virtue is a word we don’t hear often in today’s society, but the Latin root word virtus means strength. Virtuous women and men possess a quiet dignity and inner strength. They are confident because they are worthy to receive and be guided by the Holy Ghost. President Monson has counseled: “You be the one to make a stand for right, even if you stand alone. Have the moral courage to be a light for others to follow. There is no friendship more valuable than your own clear conscience, your own moral cleanliness—and what a glorious feeling it is to know that you stand in your appointed place clean and with the confidence that you are worthy to do so.”
Could it be that we have been slowly desensitized into thinking that high moral standards are old-fashioned and not relevant or important in today’s society? As Elder Hales has just reminded us, Lehonti in the Book of Mormon was well positioned on the top of a mountain. He and those he led were “fixed in their minds with a determined resolution” that they would not come down from the mount. It only took the deceitful Amalickiah four tries, each one more bold than the previous, to get Lehonti to “come down off from the mount.” And then having embraced Amalickiah’s false promises, Lehonti was “poison[ed] by degrees” until he died—not just poisoned, but “by degrees.” Could it be that this may be happening today? Could it be that first we tolerate, then accept, and eventually embrace the vice that surrounds us? Could it be that we have been deceived by false role models and persuasive media messages that cause us to forget our divine identity? Are we too being poisoned by degrees? What could be more deceptive than to entice the youth of this noble generation to do nothing or to be busy ever-texting but never coming to a knowledge of the truths contained in a book that was written for you and your day by prophets of God—the Book of Mormon? What could be more deceptive than to entice women, young and old, you and me, to be so involved in ourselves, our looks, our clothes, our body shape and size that we lose sight of our divine identity and our ability to change the world through our virtuous influence? What could be more deceptive than to entice men—young and old, holding the holy priesthood of God—to view seductive pornography and thus focus on flesh instead of faith, to be consumers of vice rather than guardians of virtue? The Book of Mormon relates the story of 2,000 young heroes whose virtue and purity gave them the strength to defend their parents’ covenants and their family’s faith. Their virtue and commitment to be “true at all times” changed the world!
I truly believe that one virtuous young woman or young man, led by the Spirit, can change the world, but in order to do so, we must return to virtue. We must engage in strict training. As the marathon runner Juma Ikangaa said after winning the New York Marathon, “The will to win is nothing without the will to prepare.” Now is the time to prepare by exercising more self-discipline. Now is the time to become “more fit for the kingdom.” Now is the time to set our course and focus on the finish. A return to virtue must begin individually in our hearts and in our homes.
What can each of us do to begin our return to virtue? The course and the training program will be unique to each of us. I have derived my personal training program from instructions found in the scriptures: “Let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly.” “Cleave unto [your] covenants.” “Stand … in holy places.” “Lay aside the things of [the] world.” “Believe that ye must repent.” “Always remember him and keep his commandments.” And “if there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, … seek after these things.” Now more than ever before, it is time to respond to Moroni’s call to “awake, and arise” and to “lay hold upon every good gift, and touch not the evil gift, nor the unclean thing.”
Recently I attended the blessing of our newest granddaughter. It was a holy sight to me as my husband and our sons, along with many other loved ones, encircled this little infant. She was so elegant all dressed in white—and it didn’t hurt a bit that she was named after her two grandmothers! But the thing that touched me most was the blessing given by her father, our son Zach. He blessed little Annabel Elaine that she would understand her identity as a daughter of God, that she would follow the examples of her mother, grandmothers, and sister, and that she would find great joy as she lived a virtuous life and prepared to make and keep sacred temple covenants. In that sacred moment I prayed that every young woman might be encircled, strengthened, and protected by righteous priesthood power, not only at the time of birth and blessing but throughout life.
During the solemn assembly last conference when President Uchtdorf called for the sustaining of our new prophet and First Presidency, I watched the entire congregation of priesthood brethren arise and stand. I felt your strength and your priesthood power. You are the guardians of virtue. Then I was overcome with emotion when President Uchtdorf said, “Will the young women please arise?” From my seat, I saw all of you arise and stand together. Today there could be no more powerful force for virtue in the world. You must never underestimate the power of your righteous influence.
I testify that a return to virtue is possible because of the Savior’s example and the “infinite virtue of His great atoning sacrifice.” I testify that we will be enabled and strengthened not only to do hard things but to do all things. Now is the time for each of us to arise and unfurl a banner to the world calling for a return to virtue. May we so live that we can be instruments in preparing the earth for His Second Coming, “that when he shall appear we shall be like him, … purified even as he is pure.” In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

There was a young couple who found themselves deeply in love with each other, or so they thought. He was not living the standards, and they decided they would not at that time qualify for a temple recommend. Their marriage was a civil one when it could have been an eternal one. The years passed and children graced their home. There was no religious activity and little spiritual comfort when death stalked the premises and the marriage and sweet family relationships were terminated by the grim reaper.

There have been those who have finally found great joy in the gospel after having resisted it for years. Invariably they have said, “All these years we’ve spurned the missionaries. Why didn’t we listen sooner? We could have had many years more of the happiness we now enjoy.”

BYU and its departments have developed many programs designed to make each major challenging and relevant to the professional goals of the student. For example, the University Studies program allows students whose needs aren’t met by existing majors to design their own programs. One girl wanted to be woman’s page editor for a newspaper. Instead of majoring in communications, which would be the usual procedure, she outlined a unique program that fit her particular needs. After completing her general education requirements, she spent 15 hours in foods and nutrition, 15 hours in clothing and textiles, 15 hours in home economics, and 15 hours in photography and journalism. She graduated with exactly the training she needed for the job she wanted.

In line with the Africa West Area vision for 2024, the Port Harcourt/Uyo communication council jointly organized a training program on 25 February 2024 in the just completed Port Harcourt Choba Stake center. The purpose of the meeting was to train members to keep the facility clean and conducive for worship and for the positive portrayal of the Church.
In his opening remark, Chukwu Sacho Nwobuisi, stake president, expressed gratitude for the meetinghouse and implored all to do their best to maintain the facility. He reminded all that cleanliness is next to godliness and that God does not dwell in an unclean place and that keeping the meetinghouse clean should be the responsibility of all.
In his training, the facility manager, Brother Enyiesor Otikor, thanked the stake members for being found worthy to have a Church building and requested their steadfastness in doing all that is required of them to keep and maintain it for the purpose for which it is built. He warned that members shouldn’t litter, touch the walls, leave the lights on when leaving the facility, and should always stack the chairs after use, clean the floor, and maintain the grounds.
A video training presentation was shown highlighting the care and maintenance of a meetinghouse. In her remarks, Sister Winifred Pratt Wonodi, the Port Harcourt/Uyo communication council director, pointed out that it is part of the Africa West Area vision for 2024 that “leaders and members, including youth, have a responsibility to help keep each building clean and in good condition.”
She said, “therefore let’s heed the call to serve the Lord by serving ourselves.”
Members were happy to have the building and promised to do their best to keep the building and environment clean. To make the occasion memorable, a baptismal service was held and the first baptism in the meetinghouse was recorded. The first Primary activity was also held.

When my family and I lived in Las Vegas, Nevada, USA, I served for a time as ward Relief Society president. I thrived on the wonderful associations I had with the good sisters in our ward. I loved planning uplifting activities, conducting Relief Society, attending meetings with ward leaders, and serving families.
I spent a significant amount of time going into homes to visit with sisters. I also ministered to mothers who were exhausted, sick, or simply overwhelmed—sisters who needed comfort, both spiritual and physical. I felt fulfilled and needed outside of my responsibilities as a young mother of six children.
Then my life suddenly changed.
My husband accepted a job promotion in another state. Within a month we packed up and left our home in sunny Las Vegas for a small rental house in cold Casper, Wyoming. The same week that we moved, I found out I was pregnant—with twins!
The night we arrived at our rental home, I became violently ill. I remember lying in bed hardly able to move while I watched my husband manage our children and unload our moving van. That was the beginning of the worst physical challenge of my life. For the next four months, I couldn’t keep a meal down and barely had enough energy to serve my family, care for our children, and—sometimes—make meals.
As my husband adjusted to his new job, I adjusted to our new town and enrolled four of our children in school. Our tiny rental home was cramped, and for several weeks we lived out of boxes. I would send our school children out the door every morning and then spend the day on the couch while my two toddlers played nearby.
One morning after the children had left for school, the doorbell rang. One of my toddlers opened the door, and there stood a sister from our new ward’s Relief Society presidency. She was holding a basket of items and had her own daughter with her. She had come to welcome me to the ward.
I was mortified.
There I was, still in my pajamas, lying on the couch with a bucket beside me. My two partially dressed toddlers were playing on the cluttered floor amidst boxes that still needed to be unpacked.
This wonderful sister came in and set her basket down on a corner of the table. Then she sat in our cluttered living room and visited with me—asking all about me and our family.
As we talked, I felt humbled. Just a month earlier, I had been in her position, visiting people and offering aid. Now the tables had turned. I was flat on my back in a messy house in desperate need of relief. I was lonely, overwhelmed, and dealing with a situation larger than my abilities. I was one of those sisters who needed help. The Lord had quickly and successfully reminded me that I needed Him and the help offered through His servants.
After she left, the sight of her welcome basket on my table gave me relief and light. During the next few weeks, I savored the contents of the basket and was grateful for our budding friendship as she visited again and again, offering help and support during those difficult months. I gained a new appreciation for the hope and relief that one sister can bring to another.
A few months later we bought a home big enough for our growing family. My difficult pregnancy ended with the birth of two beautiful children. And the kind Relief Society sister became my close friend and continues to strengthen and uplift me with her testimony and example. I often reflect on the difficult morning of her first visit and feel grateful that she fulfilled her calling.