Gospel Story Finder

For Filipinos, 1972 was a year of economic and political crisis. Political corruption was rampant; the economy was in chaos. Remus Villarete was out of college and had a good job, but he was concerned about growing economic disparities among his people. Hoping to help the poor, Remus began organizing antigovernment rallies. One of his close friends, Yvonne L. Cawit, a nurse, also helped by treating people injured in street demonstrations.
In September 1972 President Ferdinand Marcos declared martial law. His government considered protesters like Remus and Yvonne enemies of the state. When the government published its list of most-wanted agitators, Remus’s name was second on the list in his area; Yvonne’s name also appeared on the list.
Remus and Yvonne began to discuss their future. Remus believed Yvonne would be better off surrendering to the military. Yvonne’s father also asked her to give herself up to the authorities. Three days after the declaration of martial law, she surrendered. Remus considered going into the mountains to become a guerilla fighter, but at the urging of his father and some relatives who had influence on government officials, he also surrendered. After spending more than three months in a stockade, he was released.
Family members had arranged his release on condition that he marry Yvonne; his family and the military believed marriage would keep Remus from going to the mountains and continuing his fight against the government. They were right. Ten days after his release, on 21 January 1973, Remus and Yvonne married. Remus stayed out of the mountains, but he and Yvonne continued to fight injustice peacefully.
Life was difficult at first, especially because they had trouble finding jobs. Eventually both found work in their respective hometowns—Yvonne in Cadiz and Remus in Bacolod, 65 kilometers away. While staying with Yvonne’s parents in Cadiz, they met the full-time missionaries. The gospel changed the lives of everyone in the household.
Carmelino Cawit, Yvonne’s father, was a religious man who enjoyed listening to the elders. Only a few months passed before he, his wife, and two daughters entered the waters of baptism. Brother Cawit became the president of the Cadiz Branch and later a bishop, stake president, and patriarch.
Remus and Yvonne also appreciated the message of the restored gospel, but Remus was distracted by his friends, who did not live the Word of Wisdom. Because he had not been reading the Book of Mormon, Remus was not ready for baptism when the time came for his baptismal interview.
He also wanted to practice what the elders were teaching him before he committed to baptism. “Once I join a certain organization, I am committed to the work,” Remus said years later. So he began attending Church, paying tithing, fasting, contributing to the missionary fund, and reading the Book of Mormon carefully and prayerfully. By doing the will of his Heavenly Father, Remus soon came to “know of the doctrine” for himself (John 7:17). He and Yvonne were baptized in May 1975.
Three months later the first Philippines area conference was held in Araneta Coliseum in Quezon City. President Spencer W. Kimball was scheduled to speak, and Remus was determined to see him.
“Immediately after the conference, I returned to Bacolod. I went straight home and told my wife, ‘We have to follow the prophet.’ She said, ‘Why, what did the prophet say?’ The prophet said, ‘Families are forever, and it is important that families should be together.’ We should be together.”
Remus had been staying in Bacolod during the week, returning to Cadiz on the weekends. Following President Kimball’s admonition, Yvonne quit her job in Cadiz, and the family moved to Bacolod to be with Remus. Opportunities for gospel growth soon came to the family as the Villaretes were called to many leadership positions. When the Bacolod stake was created in 1981 by Elder Marion D. Hanks of the Seventy, Brother Villarete was sustained as its first president. He served in that position until 1987, when he moved to Cebu to become a regional real estate manager for the Church.
President Villarete then served as a regional representative from 1988 until 1991, when he was called as president of the Philippines Cagayan de Oro Mission on the island of Mindanao. He and Sister Villarete remained on Mindanao until he was released in June 1995. A few days later, Brother Villarete was called as an Area Authority Seventy in the Philippines/Micronesia Area.
Once Remus and Yvonne found the right cause, they gave themselves to it with all their hearts, keeping the commandments and following the President of the Church. Their dedication to the gospel has never faltered.

President Tanner told a story of a university professor addressing
A group of students who had just closed their college life. . . . At a final dinner before separating to go their various ways, he said, referring to the furnishings and services which graced the banquet table, “Take this tablecloth. It is of most exquisite workmanship. It involved weaving, bleaching, smoothing, designing. It is damask linen. Is there anyone here who knows from personal experience anything about the labor involved? Have any of you ever contributed any labor to the manufacturing of table linen? Let me draw your attention to the samples of pottery here. Surely the men and women who produce such beautiful things are artists. What a joy it must be for a man to hold a thing in his hand—complete—and say, ‘I made it.’ Many forms of labor are involved here, also—digging the clay, carting, fashioning, painting, burning, baking, and finishing.”
He then called attention to the cut glass, the silver, the rugs, the carpet, the curtains and drapery, and the mural decorations. He continued, “Here we are, then, a group of men on whom a university has set its stamp. We produce nothing to eat; we could not even lend a hand in the making of anything we see around us; and truth compels me to venture the suggestion that, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, the chief motive of a college education is to escape actual participation in just such a work as gives, or ought to give, joy to the worker.
“I do not believe that a smattering of languages, of mathematics, and of history is education. I believe the system of cramming these things to pass an examination is pernicious.” Then he said, “Why should men consider it degrading to handle tools and make useful and beautiful things?”
He concluded his remarks to his spellbound audience with these words: “Gentlemen, as one example, I wish it were possible for me to introduce to you a young Galilean carpenter, the master builder—Jesus of Nazareth.”

As a newly ordained teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood, my first home teaching companion was Henry Wilkening, a high priest nearly 60 years my senior. He was a German immigrant, a shoemaker by trade, small in stature, but an energetic and faithful shepherd to the families assigned to us. I trotted behind him (for he seemed to walk and to climb stairs much faster than I could) during our monthly visits, which took us into sobering environments new to my sheltered experience. He expected me to present part of each lesson and to make all the appointments, but mostly I listened and watched as he aided brothers and sisters with various spiritual and social, economic and emotional needs previously unknown to me as a 14-year-old.
I began to realize how much good could be done by a single faithful priesthood bearer. I watched Brother Wilkening forging a strong priesthood link for himself through his loving service to those families in need—and to me in my youth.

Elva Jean Grauel of Burtonsville, Maryland, has spent a lot of time on the bench—the organ bench of her ward chapel, that is.
Following her early-morning seminary class every day, Elva had a 40-minute wait for her school bus. She put the time to good use by practicing the organ. Her efforts were rewarded when she won first place on both the local and regional levels in the classical keyboard category in a National Association of Christian Schools competition.
Elva serves as president of her Mia Maid class and as assistant organist in the Colesville Ward, Seneca Maryland Stake.

This same light led the way for 15-year-old Mary Elizabeth Rollins and her 13-year-old sister, Caroline, on a dark and chilling day in Independence, Missouri. It was 1833, and an angry mob roared through the streets of Independence, burning property and wreaking havoc. In their path was the home of Brother William W. Phelps, where the printing press was kept. He had been printing revelations received by the Prophet Joseph Smith. The mob demolished the printing press and threw the wreckage into the street. However, they stacked up the printed pages in the yard so they could burn them later.

Mary Elizabeth and Caroline had been hiding by the fence, frightened spectators to all this destruction. Even though she was terrified, Mary Elizabeth’s eye was fixed on those precious pages. She and her sister ran out from their hiding place, gathered up the scriptures, and bolted. Some of the mob saw them and ordered them to stop. But the brave girls ran into a large cornfield, where they dropped breathlessly to the ground. They carefully laid the pages of revelations between the tall rows of corn and then covered the pages by lying on them. The relentless mobsters looked and looked for the girls, coming quite close at times, but never did find them. Eventually they gave up their search to see what further damage they could do to the town.

I believe the light of the Lord directed Mary Elizabeth and Caroline as to what to do and where to go for safety. Sisters, that light shines for you, and it will guide you as it did the Rollins girls. It will keep you safe even when danger lurks. As the Master promised, “I will also be your light … ; and I will prepare the way before you, if it so be that ye shall keep my commandments; … ye shall know that it is by me that ye are led.”

Recently my husband and I had dinner with some friends. The conversation turned to religion, and one friend, a less-active member of the Church, began telling me why the Church was not true.
In the course of his explanation, he became adamant, hostile, and angry. The entire time I sat and listened. At first I felt like crying, but then I became angry and wanted to tell him off. The still, small voice, however, told me to be quiet.
Our friend didn’t finish his tirade until we had finished our dinner and paid the bill. Then he paused, as if waiting for my rebuttal. I sat there for a moment in silent prayer. Then, in a soft voice, I calmly said, “Do you know what I like best about going to church on Sunday? The sacrament. It allows me the opportunity to quietly bow my head and pray to Heavenly Father. I tell Him all the ways in which I could have done things differently during the past week, and I seek for ways to improve.”
Then I added, “I think of all the people I tried to be a blessing to during the past week, and I ask Heavenly Father to help me find more people to bless during the coming week. I am thankful that I have time during the sacrament each week to do this and to become the best I can be.”
Our friend looked at me and said nothing. We left the restaurant and walked to the car. I then asked him if he remembered all of the self-help books I had on my bookshelf at home. He did. I told him that since I had joined the Church, I had never read another self-help book. I said the only book I get my answers from anymore is the Book of Mormon.
A few days later he called to apologize.

The Lord said, “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him” (1 Corinthians 2:9). I believe the influence from this institution will be like that of the Portuguese navigators who, in the 14th and 15th centuries in the Age of Discovery, went to the ends of the earth. And those who go will take the unique essence of this remarkable institution worldwide. This has already begun to happen. My wife and I, with Bruce Olsen and Randy Boothe, were privileged to take the first group of Young Ambassadors from Brigham Young University to China in 1979. This provided the opportunity to rededicate that ancient land. Our students were so outstanding that they were almost mobbed in several places. The performances were televised and rebroadcast over and over again all through China. So very much has happened since that event in the contacts with members and leaders of the Church with China.

Recently I dealt with sciatic pain in my back and down my right leg for nearly a year. It was a miserable time, but a time of self-reflection, a time of learning, a time of waiting on the Lord to teach me what I should know and do.

Since I was 16, I have had back problems off and on throughout my life, which started while working at a TV store lifting big old stereo console TVs. When you’re young you think you can do it all, and you almost can, but life catches up to you. In the past when my back would flare up, I would find relief through muscle relaxants, physical therapy, chiropractors, or through a cortisone shot. I was always glad to be able to get through it without needing surgery. I hoped I never would need surgery.

This time, almost nothing seemed to be working, but I fought the idea of surgery.

Because of the pain I was going through, my prayers were more intense, pleading for relief, for strength and patience to help me through this dark time. The Lord knows us and knows what we need. He put multiple people in my path who had been through similar problems like mine, who did have surgery and were walking examples to me of the blessing of having surgery.

I don’t want to say I’m an advocate for surgery; instead, I’m an advocate of listening to the Spirit and learning what the Lord would have you do. He does know you!

I give credit to my dear wife, for her patience and endurance with me. She knew all along what I needed but also knew I had to figure it out for myself. Sometimes we men are just a little too hard-headed and proud.

My good wife counseled me to fast and pray about whether I should have the surgery. Even after I had my answer, I still waivered because I was scared, not knowing what long-term affects it would have on me. Again, with encouragement from my wife, I received a priesthood blessing from a good friend and co-worker. Through that blessing the way became clear: if I wanted relief, I needed to have the surgery.

It’s been eight months since surgery, and last month I was able to climb Table Mountain with two of my kids and a son-in-law. It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it.

Ouch! Have you ever been attacked by a jumping cactus? Cholla cactus segments “jump” off to stick to clothes, skin, or whatever else they can hook their spines into.
The Latter-day Saint youth of New Mexico know how difficult it is to detach themselves from a prickly cactus. They got some extra practice, though, as they cleaned the site where the Albuquerque New Mexico Temple will be built. Armed with shovels, rakes, and gloves, youth from four stakes assembled on a hot Saturday morning to rid the property of sagebrush, garbage, and cholla, so the weeds could be mowed and the ground made safe to walk on for those attending the temple’s groundbreaking ceremony.
“It was hard work, but it will be totally worth it for the temple to come,” says Robyn Sampson, age 15.
Before the city of Albuquerque approved the plans for the temple, the youth fasted and prayed for a solution to the problems the temple’s project manager faced when he presented the plans to city officials. Now they say they are fasting and praying for the temple builders. But the prayers and the cleanup are only part of the work the young people of Albuquerque are doing to prepare for the temple. They are also working to make certain their own lives are clean.
Despite the burrs on their socks and an occasional scare from a snake or lizard, the Albuquerque youth succeeded in clearing the future temple site of every spiny cactus and broken bottle they could find. It might seem strange, but the youth actually enjoyed pulling cactuses and loading trucks with sagebrush.
“We’re so happy we will have a temple here. We thought it would never happen,” says Rosalie Campbell, age 12.
Amber Chee, age 17, looks forward to doing baptisms for the dead and someday getting married in the Albuquerque temple. “It was really fun coming here. I felt the Spirit,” she says.
Both Rosalie and Amber have done baptisms for the dead before, but opportunities for temple trips come only once a year for the Albuquerque youth, who have had to travel at least eight hours to get to a temple.
“Temples were always a faraway thing,” says Neil Peterson. As 16-year-old Neil wipes his brow, he says he enjoys helping out with something so important, even if it is hard work.
Besides concentrating on the cactus plants, Michelle Williams is thinking about what it will mean to have a temple in her area and about why she is cleaning up the temple site. “It’s very symbolic,” she says. “You have to be clean yourself to go to the temple.”
Logan King is waiting for his call as a full-time missionary. He won’t be able to go to the Albuquerque temple before his mission, but he realizes the importance of being worthy to attend the temple. “We need to clean all the cactuses out of our lives before we can go to the temple,” he says.
Researching family history is another way the Albuquerque youth are preparing for the temple. Many of them have become excited about doing family history, knowing they will soon have a temple in their area. Albuquerque’s family history center missionaries, Sister Wilcox and Sister Hatfield, say the temple will strengthen the youth. Among the large number of young people in the area, they have seen a “big push for genealogy.”
Sarah Sego, age 17, loves doing baptisms for the dead and can’t wait for the temple to be built so she can do baptisms more often. “I know it’s the right thing to do, because all those people are waiting,” she says.
Sarah is eager to tell others why she loves going to the temple. She talks to her friends about the temple and even tactfully shared her testimony of temple work with her high school class.
Sarah is not alone in her missionary efforts. Many Church members are enjoying the opportunity to explain the gospel to others because of the temple.
“I think the temple will make people notice us more,” says Lisa Willis, age 14. She’s also been telling her friends about the temple. “The best part of building a temple is having people ask about it,” she says.
Albuquerque’s full-time missionaries were also working hard at the cleanup. They say members in the area feel that the temple will bring many blessings to all the people of Albuquerque.
“While tracting, we stopped by a house and a woman opened the door and said, ‘Hey, I heard you are building one of those temples.’ That allowed us to get in the door and talk to her about the Church,” says Elder Moyer from California. Many missionaries have similar stories.
The temple will be built in a valley where it can be seen from far away. In fact, it’s the same valley the Mormon Battalion came through on its famous march from the Missouri River to California.
At the groundbreaking ceremony, many young people who had been at the cleanup also sang in the youth chorus. The strains of “High on the Mountain Top” (Hymns, number 5) rang out over the crowd of thousands that had gathered to see the temple ground dedicated.
“We all joined together to celebrate our temple,” says Tyler Lindsey, age 16. “I knew that it was right and the ground was holy. I don’t know how we sounded, but the Spirit was there.”
The Spirit is there. The spirit of service, of missionary work, and of love can be felt strongly in Albuquerque. Whether pulling cactuses or doing baptisms for the dead, the youth of Albuquerque are carrying out the Lord’s work with His Spirit to help them. The youth don’t know yet all the ways the temple will change their lives, but they are grateful to have been able to take a small part in the temple-building project. They are looking forward to the temple’s dedication in the year 2000 and to even greater blessings and opportunities to come.

Even if you’re nearing graduation and feel sure about the answers to those questions, it may be wise to think again. I say that from personal experience. As a senior in high school, I knew exactly the path I would take through college. My goal was to attend the Harvard Business School, just like my father. In answer to my questions about what that would require, he had informed me that the Harvard Business School admissions officers appreciate students with degrees in fields other than business, particularly science and engineering majors. That sounded good to me, because I love geology. For that I am indebted to Ricks College professors who taught me to appreciate the mountains and unique geologic features around Rexburg.

With this clear graduate school goal in mind, I declared geology as my major when I filled out my college application. Everything went according to plan. I enjoyed the geology classes and made rapid progress toward graduation. I also got a summer internship with a large oil company exploring the possibilities of geothermal energy. But I never went on any field trip that wasn’t required for a class, nor did I attempt to get to know my professors outside of the classroom. My grades were good, and I felt confident that the admissions officers at Harvard would be sufficiently impressed with me, notwithstanding my lack of practical experience or enthusiastically supportive faculty mentors.

In fact, I felt so confident that I didn’t apply to any other graduate school. I was thus completely unprepared to receive a “thin letter” from Harvard. For your future reference, acceptance letters often include not only the good news of application success, but also information and enticements designed to win your quick acceptance of the admission offer. These “thick letters” are fat and heavy. By contrast, a statement of rejection is relatively brief, making for a very thin letter. My Harvard thin letter, which weighed less than one ounce, crushed me, as it brought an end to a lifetime of dreaming.

In fairness, my thin letter encouraged me to reapply after gaining at least two years of full-time work experience, as nearly all successful Harvard Business School applicants do. But my devastation wasn’t just a matter of wanting to be admitted quickly. I seriously doubted my ability to get meaningful work experience. The price of oil had fallen by half during my time in college, on its way to falling by half again in the next two years. [2]

In other circumstances, I might have had the patience and optimism to take the Harvard counsel to get work experience and reapply. But experienced, graduate degree-holding professional geologists were being laid off in droves. The woeful joke at the time was that the best natural resource department in Denver, a leading energy hub, was also the shoe department at Sears, the Walmart of that time. Jobs in geology, especially for bachelor’s degree holders, were all but impossible to find.

Now, you may be wondering two things. One is how I could have been so foolish and unlucky in my educational plans. The other is why I am telling you this frightening story. The answer to the first question, about my foolishness and apparent bad luck, is that I can now look back and see that heaven was blessing me in spite of my vain ambitions and overconfidence. We’ll talk more about that later.

For now, let’s focus on the things you can learn from my scary story of bad college and career planning. In my defense, I did one important thing partly well. That thing was choosing a long-range goal to guide my choice of a college major. Rather than just picking a subject that I really liked, geology, I also picked it based on a post-graduation goal: getting into the Harvard Business School.

But I should have been looking past graduate school and on to the life’s work for which my degree would prepare me. I should have been making my best guess about what the life’s work would be. Was it to be a professor and academic administrator, like my father; a research scientist, like his father; or perhaps a real estate developer, like my maternal grandfather? Unfortunately, I wasn’t asking any of those questions.

A few months ago I had an opportunity to take a morning walk on a mountain trail with four of my grandchildren. We each brought a bag so we could collect treasures from nature. As we looked for pieces to put in our collection, we found many different colors, designs, and textures in the leaves and rocks. It was hard to choose. I soon noticed that the children’s bags were filling up. Each leaf the children selected was unique, but because it was late fall, most of the leaves had dark weathered spots, irregular shapes, or faded and discolored parts. Because of this, I was reluctant to add things to my bag. I was looking for a leaf that showed the brightest colors and had no flaws. If it wasn’t perfect, I wasn’t going to treasure it. But this meant that my bag had very little in it.

Later, as I thought about this experience, I realized that I had cheated myself of much delight and happiness that could have been mine. I didn’t appreciate the uniqueness of the objects because I was looking for what I had deemed perfection. My grandchildren had been wiser than I had been. They had savored the odd shapes and spots on the leaves. They giggled at and enjoyed the brittle crispness of the dying leaves, and they delighted in the soft, faded colors. They filled their bags with happy treasures to take home. We can fail to see and enjoy the unique happiness and beauty in each day if we are so focused on our desire for what we want instead of what the Lord has designed for us.

On March 22, 2016, just before eight o’clock in the morning, two terrorist bombs exploded in the Brussels Airport. Elder Richard Norby, Elder Mason Wells, and Elder Joseph Empey had taken Sister Fanny Clain to the airport for a flight to her mission in Cleveland, Ohio. Thirty-two people lost their lives, and all of the missionaries were wounded.
The most seriously wounded was Elder Richard Norby, age 66, serving with his wife, Sister Pam Norby.
Elder Norby reflected on that moment:
“Instantly, I knew what had happened.
“I tried to run for safety, but I immediately fell down. … I could see that my left leg was badly injured. I [noticed] black, almost spiderweb-type, soot drooping from both hands. I gently pulled at it, but realized it was not soot but my skin that had been burned. My white shirt was turning red from an injury on my back.
“As the consciousness of what had just happened filled my mind, I [had] this very strong thought: … the Savior knew where I was, what had just transpired, and [what] I was experiencing at that moment.”
There were difficult days ahead for Richard Norby and for his wife, Pam. He was placed in an induced coma, followed by surgeries, infections, and great uncertainty.
Richard Norby lived, but his life would never be the same. Two and a half years later, his wounds are still healing; a brace replaces the missing part of his leg; each step is different than before that moment at the Brussels Airport.
Why would this happen to Richard and Pam Norby? They had been true to their covenants, served a previous mission in the Ivory Coast, and raised a wonderful family. Someone could understandably say, “It isn’t fair! It just isn’t right! They were giving their lives for the gospel of Jesus Christ; how could this happen?”
The Norbys told me, “Disappointment comes to visit on occasion but is never allowed to stay.” The Apostle Paul said, “We are troubled … yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed.” You may be exhausted, but don’t ever give up.

None of us will ever forget what we saw and what we felt on the morning of September 11, 2001. The events of that day changed the world and all of our lives in a profound way. At 10 o’clock on September 12, I was with the First Presidency, six members of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, and other general Church leaders in a meeting of the Board of Trustees that oversees the affairs of the entire Church Educational System. As I was preparing to participate in that Board meeting, I said to my wife, “What would any member of the Church give to be in this setting with these Brethren and these sisters today, given what took place yesterday?”

It is customary that we all arrive quite early for meetings of the Board. I entered the west boardroom of the Church Administration Building and shook hands with all of the men and women who were there. President Hinckley was not yet in the room; he is always the last to arrive. Interestingly, as I talked with those in the room and listened to other conversations, not one word was mentioned about the events of the previous day. The Brethren were discussing current and anticipated assignments and other matters of ongoing Church business. Then the door opened and President Hinckley walked into the room. He greeted everyone and shook our hands, and he moved to his place at the head of the table and sat down. All of the rest of us then sat down. President Hinckley looked at us and simply said, “Brothers and sisters, we live in sobering times. Now let’s get to work.” That is all that was said. An invocation was offered, and the Board meeting began.

Steadfast and immovable. Less than 24 hours after the awful events of September 11, I was in the presence of the Lord’s prophet who provided the perfect example of being steadfast and immovable- solid, firm, resolute, firmly fixed, and incapable of being diverted from a primary purpose or mission. “Let’s get to work.”

For others, recognition of imbalance may not be so clear. While serving as a stake president, I observed as a member of our stake grew in prominence in the business community. He had a growing family and held positions of responsibility in the Church. All appeared to be in order. Then it became evident that he was paying too high a price for his temporal success. The first indication was his request to be released from all Church callings because of their time conflict with his work-related obligations. Even more alarming, through a series of behavioral problems with his ­children, priesthood leaders became acutely aware that basic family duties were being neglected. Communication with his wife and children had deteriorated, as they seldom saw him. When they did, he was usually preoccupied by professional demands or simply too tired for family activities or even meaningful conversation. Only through a tragic and agonizing series of events was this man brought to a realization of the consequences of his actions on his own spiritual health and that of his family.

As a surgeon, I found that a significant portion of my professional time was taken up with the subject of pain. Of necessity I surgically inflicted it almost daily—and much of my effort was then spent trying to control and alleviate pain.
I have pondered about the purpose of pain. None of us is immune from experiencing pain. I have seen people cope with it very differently. Some turn away from God in anger, and others allow their suffering to bring them closer to God.
Like you, I have experienced pain myself. Pain is a gauge of the healing process. It often teaches us patience. Perhaps that is why we use the term patient in referring to the sick.
Elder Orson F. Whitney wrote: “No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted. It ministers to our education, to the development of such qualities as patience, faith, fortitude, and humility. … It is through sorrow and suffering, toil and tribulation, that we gain the education that we come here to acquire.”1
Similarly, Elder Robert D. Hales has said:
“Pain brings you to a humility that allows you to ponder. It is an experience I am grateful to have endured. …
“I learned that the physical pain and the healing of the body after major surgery are remarkably similar to the spiritual pain and the healing of the soul in the process of repentance.”2
Much of our suffering is not necessarily our fault. Unexpected events, contradicting or disappointing circumstances, interrupting illness, and even death surround us and penetrate our mortal experience. Additionally, we may suffer afflictions because of the actions of others.3 Lehi noted that Jacob had “suffered … much sorrow, because of the rudeness of [his] brethren.”4 Opposition is part of Heavenly Father’s plan of happiness. We all encounter enough to bring us to an awareness of our Father’s love and of our need for the Savior’s help.
The Savior is not a silent observer. He Himself knows personally and infinitely the pain we face.
“He suffereth the pains of all men, yea, the pains of every living creature, both men, women, and children.”5
“Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.”6
Sometimes in the depth of pain, we are tempted to ask, “Is there no balm in Gilead; is there no physician there?”7 I testify the answer is yes, there is a physician. The Atonement of Jesus Christ covers all these conditions and purposes of mortality.
There is another kind of pain for which we are responsible. Spiritual pain lies deep within our souls and can feel unquenchable, even as being racked with an “inexpressible horror,” as Alma described.8 It comes from our sinful actions and lack of repentance. For this pain too there is a cure that is universal and absolute. It is from the Father, through the Son, and it is for each of us who is willing to do all that is necessary to repent. Christ said, “Will ye not now return unto me … and be converted, that I may heal you?”9
Christ Himself taught:
“And my Father sent me that I might be lifted up upon the cross; and after that I had been lifted up upon the cross, that I might draw all men unto me. …
“Therefore, according to the power of the Father I will draw all men unto me.”10
Perhaps His most significant work is in the ongoing labor with each of us individually to lift, to bless, to strengthen, to sustain, to guide, and to forgive us.
As Nephi saw in vision, much of Christ’s mortal ministry was devoted to blessing and healing the sick with all kinds of maladies—physical, emotional, and spiritual. “And I beheld multitudes of people who were sick, and who were afflicted with all manner of diseases. … And they were healed by the power of the Lamb of God.”11
Alma also prophesied that “he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and … he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people. …
“That his bowels may be filled with mercy, … that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities.”12
Late one night lying in a hospital bed, this time as a patient and not as a physician, I read those verses over and over again. I pondered: “How is it done? For whom? What is required to qualify? Is it like forgiveness of sin? Do we have to earn His love and help?” As I pondered, I came to understand that during His mortal life Christ chose to experience pains and afflictions in order to understand us. Perhaps we also need to experience the depths of mortality in order to understand Him and our eternal purposes.13
President Henry B. Eyring taught: “It will comfort us when we must wait in distress for the Savior’s promised relief that He knows, from experience, how to heal and help us. … And faith in that power will give us patience as we pray and work and wait for help. He could have known how to succor us simply by revelation, but He chose to learn by His own personal experience.”14
I felt the encircling arms of His love that night.15 Tears watered my pillow in gratitude. Later, as I was reading in Matthew about Christ’s mortal ministry, I made another discovery: “When the even was come, they brought unto him many … and he … healed all that were sick.”16 He healed all that came to Him. None were turned away.

I was only 12 years old when the missionaries arrived for the first time to preach in the city where I was born in northern Chile. One Sunday, after I had been attending the small branch for six months, a missionary offered me the bread as he was passing the sacrament. I looked at him and softly said, “I can’t.”
“Why not?” he replied.
I told him, “Because I am not a member of the Church.”1
The missionary couldn’t believe it. His eyes were shining. I suppose he thought, “But this young man is in every single meeting! How can he not be a member of the Church?”
The following day, the missionaries were in my home, and they did everything they could to teach my whole family. But since my family was not interested, it was only my weekly Church attendance for more than six months that made the missionaries feel confident enough to continue. Finally, the great moment I had been waiting for came when they invited me to become a member of the Church of Jesus Christ. The missionaries explained to me that since I was a minor, I would need my parents’ permission. I went with the missionaries to see my father, thinking that his loving answer would be “Son, when you are of legal age, you will be able to make your own decisions.”
While the missionaries spoke with him, I prayed fervently for his heart to be touched so he would give me the permission I wanted. His answer to the missionaries was the following: “Elders, over the past six months, I have seen my son Jorge get up early every Sunday morning, put on his best clothes, and walk to church. I have seen only a good influence from the Church in his life.” Then, addressing me, he surprised me by saying, “Son, if you will be responsible for this decision, then you have my permission to be baptized.” I hugged my father, gave him a kiss, and thanked him for what he was doing. The next day I was baptized. Last week was the 47th anniversary of that important moment in my life.
How grateful and happy I am for the decision that my father let me make 47 years ago. Over time, I have come to understand that the condition he gave me—to be responsible for that decision—meant being responsible to my Heavenly Father and seeking my own salvation and that of my fellowmen, thereby becoming more as my Father expects and wants me to become. On this very special day, I testify that God our Father and His Beloved Son live. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Lonnie Johnston, a Laurel from Fallon, Nevada, is interested in a lot of things, including softball, volleyball, dancing, public speaking, and goat tying.

Goat tying?

Yup. Lonnie excels at goat tying and other rodeo events. As the National High School Rodeo Association’s queen, she is now spreading her message about how much fun rodeo events are.

“I want to educate people about how rodeo works and what it’s all about,” says Lonnie.

Her year as queen has afforded her the opportunity to travel around the country and make new friends.

“I always take my scriptures wherever I go. People always ask me what they are. It’s a great way to share the gospel!” she says.

In our more recent history, too, we find people who lived as examples. Sarah Melissa Granger was just fifteen years old when she went to Nauvoo to join the Saints. It was the Nauvoo of the 1840 period, with the persecution beginning and the Saints pushing to complete the temple, for they knew that when the temple was finished they would become a covenant people.

Sarah was very much interested in the doctrine and revelations of her newfound faith. She attended the School of the Prophets and discussed the principles she learned there with her father. In later years she referred to her attendance at the School of the Prophets to underscore the emphasis she placed upon doctrinal study among Latter-day Saint women.

When she was about twenty-two, she married Hiram Kimball. Sarah was a member of the Church. Hiram was not. He was later baptized, but, when their first baby was born, the Nauvoo Temple walls were only about three feet above their foundation. The Saints needed money to complete the building. Sarah wanted to make a contribution to the temple project, but she wanted it to be her contribution, not her husband’s. Even though he was well off financially and could afford to give generously to the Church, that didn’t meet her needs as she saw them. She thought a great deal about how she could fulfill her responsibility. Then, she came up with an idea. She had a new baby boy just three days old. When her husband came to her bedside to admire the baby, she asked, “What is the boy worth?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “He’s worth a great deal.”

“Is he worth a thousand dollars?”

“Yes, more than that if he lives and does well.”

“Then,” she said, “half of him is mine, is it not?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“I have something then to help on the temple,” she said.

“Have you?” questioned her husband.

“Yes, I think I’ll turn my share (of the baby) in as tithing.”

“Well, I’ll see about that,” said her husband.

Soon after that conversation, her husband, who was a major in the Nauvoo Legion, met with the Prophet. Her Hiram said, “Sarah proposes to turn the boy out as Church property,” and then he related their entire discussion.

President Joseph Smith seemed pleased with the joke. “I accept all such donations,” was his reply, “and from this day the boy shall stand recorded as Church property.” He turned to Willard Richards and directed, “Make a record of this, and you are my witness.”

Then he turned back to the father and said,

“Major, you now have the privilege of paying $500 and retaining possession, or receiving $500 and giving possession.”

To which the new father responded, “Will you accept the reserve block of property north of the temple (as payment)?”

“It is just what we want,” said the Prophet.

The deed was made out. Later the Prophet said to Sarah, “You have consecrated your firstborn son; for this you are blessed of the Lord. . . . Your name shall be handed down in honorable remembrance from generation to generation,”

Sarah Kimball could translate her vision of the eternal truths into daily living. Perhaps her life was best described by a woman who knew her well who said, “The name Sarah M. Kimball is synonymous with charity.”

An eight-year-old girl, reared in a good home with parents who did not believe in God, on her own initiative learned the Lord’s Prayer and recited that prayer privately every day. Eventually she added her own words and finally began offering her personal prayers to her Heavenly Father. She knew He lived, even though her parents did not. A few days ago I had the honor of officiating at her marriage and sealing in the temple. Her mother was with her—the result of her daughter’s example.

“Vperiod!” Brother Brigham shouts. “Forward!” He raises his hand high and points straight ahead. The pioneers grab their handcart, grimace at the effort of pulling it, and continue past a row of apartment buildings.
Wait a minute! That’s not how the Saints got to Utah!
Not to worry. This is Vyborg, Russia. The man playing the role of President Brigham Young is actually Aleksandr B. Tomak, a district president. And the pioneers, who have only a single handcart among them, are Russians from the St. Petersburg area, gathered at a youth conference to celebrate their heritage.
That’s why, as the handcart they are now pulling has journeyed from Siberia on the east to Vyborg on Russia’s western border, the “Mormons” in each location have not only pulled it through forests and mountains but also through the streets and parks of the cities where they live. They are celebrating, not only the pioneers that were, but also the pioneers they are—young people eager to live the truth and to share it with anyone willing to listen.
As the youth walk and walk and walk, they sing. Someone strums a guitar, and everyone joins in folk songs. At other moments, silence reigns. And every once in a while, it just seems right to sing a hymn. “Come, Come, Ye Saints” is most popular, and those who sing it sometimes cry.
The Vyborg-St. Petersburg handcart company reaches the end of the trail at the shore of a lake in the forest. Here, workshops will be held and lunch served for those who have “safely completed the journey to Zion,” as President Tomak proclaims.
“Vot eto mesto!” he says, in his best Brother Brigham voice. “This is the place!”
It’s a phrase that was true 150 years ago in the valley of the Great Salt Lake. It is now a phrase that is equally true from Siberia to Vyborg, all across a vast country where modern pioneers are embracing the restored gospel today.