Gospel Story Finder

While camped on the Bear River, Brigham Young contracted mountain fever and became so ill that he could not continue to travel. It was decided that eight wagons and several men would stay behind with him, and the rest would go on. But as the main group moved on, others were stricken with the fever. The pioneers decided to let the sick rest while an advance company with 23 wagons and 42 men led by Orson Pratt scouted out the best route through the mountains.
The advance party found the Donner Trail, made the year before, and began to follow it. The trail was very rough, so the men spent much of their time clearing trees and leveling the ground for those behind them.
On 21 July 1847, Orson Pratt and Erastus Snow went down Emigration Canyon ahead of the others to scout out the area. They had only one horse, so they took turns walking and riding. A few miles from the mouth of the canyon, Erastus realized that he had lost his coat. He took the horse and turned back to find it. Orson walked on alone and was the first of the pioneers to set foot in the Salt Lake Valley. He and Erastus returned to camp, and the next day the advance company entered the Salt Lake Valley and headed north.
On 23 July they traveled to an area near where the Salt Lake Temple now stands. Orson Pratt called everyone together and led them in a prayer of thanksgiving and of dedicating themselves and the land to the Lord. After the prayer, the pioneers immediately went to work unpacking the wagons, establishing a settlement, and plowing the dry, hard land so that it could be planted. On that same day, Brigham Young and his group crossed Big Mountain. From its summit, President Young looked out of the carriage he was riding in and declared: “This is the right place. Drive on.”* The next day, 24 July, the last of the company arrived in the valley. It had taken the pioneers 111 days to make the journey to the Salt Lake Valley.
Sunday, 25 July 1847, the Saints worshiped and gave thanks for their safe journey. It had been a long trip, and for many years Saints would continue to sacrifice to cross the plains—but at last a place had been found where The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints could prosper.

Brady really liked the song Sister Robers had taught in Primary. He whistled the melody all the way home from church. He hummed it as he washed his hands for lunch and as he raced downstairs to help his mom.
“Hi, Mom,” he called cheerfully. “What can I do to help?”
His mom chuckled as she handed him the forks. “Please finish setting the table.”
“What are you laughing about?” Brady asked as he began putting a fork next to each plate.
“You’re the fourth person who has offered to help,” Mom said. “There’s nothing like a fast Sunday to get cooperation in this family!”
Brady laughed with her. It was true. All the Marsh family eagerly volunteered to help speed up the meal preparation after fast and testimony meeting.
“Brady!” Dad called from the study. “Can you come in here for a minute?”
“Sure, Dad,” Brady called back. He hummed as he put the last spoon in place, then raced to the study. In the dim light of the hall he tripped over something hard and fell to the floor.
“Ouch!” he said, rubbing his stubbed toe. “What was that?” Looking around he saw Trent’s dump truck. It was his little brother’s favorite toy, and he didn’t let Brady play with it. Forgetting the pain, Brady began to work the levers on the truck.
“That’s mine!” Trent yelled from the doorway. “Give it back!”
Brady gave the truck a shove toward his brother. It missed hitting him by inches. “Here, baby. I don’t want to play with your old truck, anyway!”
Brady stomped on down the hall, fuming.
“Come on in,” Dad called from the study. “We need to talk about family home evening. It’s your turn to give the lesson, remember?”
“I forgot,” Brady mumbled. He didn’t feel like thinking about a lesson. He wanted to be mad.
“Is there something you learned in church today that you could share with the family?” Dad sat back quietly and waited for Brady to answer.
“No.” Right then he couldn’t think of one thing he’d learned at Primary that day.
“Maybe I should help Mom get lunch on the table,” Dad said gently, looking at Brady’s angry face. “You sit here where it’s quiet and think. I’m sure it won’t take long for you to come up with something. The books we use for the lessons are on the shelves.”
“All right,” Brady muttered.
After the door closed, Brady stared out the window. All he could think about was being angry. He picked up a pencil and began doodling. As Brady sketched, he began to hum the Primary song that was still in the back of his mind. He stopped, his anger forgotten. What was that song again? he asked himself. “‘I’m trying to be like Jesus; I’m following in his ways,’” he sang softly. That’s it! That’s what I’ll use for my lesson. I’ll challenge the family to try to be like Jesus this week, he decided. I’ll teach them about what He was like and then ask them to follow His example!
After lunch Brady read all he could about the Savior. I’m going to be more like Him, too, he promised himself. I’m going to play with Trent. I’ll help Merry with her chores so that she can practice the piano more. I’m going to be a better friend to all the guys at school.
The next day after school, Brady hurried home to finish preparing his lesson. He took the pictures of Jesus off the walls to use in the lesson. He especially liked the one of Jesus blessing the children.
It seemed forever before supper was over and the last dish was put away. But finally he could start his lesson. The rest of the family seemed to really listen to him as he showed the pictures and told examples of Christ’s life from the New Testament and the Book of Mormon. At the end he said, “I want our family to really try to live as much like the Savior as we can. It’s a challenge from me to you. Next week we’ll all report on how we did.”
For the closing song, they all sang “I’m Trying to Be Like Jesus.” Merry played the piano, and Trent led the music. No one even snickered as he wildly waved his arm. They wanted to be like Jesus, and He would never hurt anyone’s feelings.
After the lesson, Mom gave Brady a hug and Merry stopped to say, “Great lesson.”
Brady smiled as he put the pictures back on the walls and returned the books to the study. When he came back to the family room and saw Trent standing on a chair, patting the picture of Jesus blessing the children, he yelled angrily, “What are you doing? You’re going to knock that picture off the wall, you little brat!”
Trent turned around and smiled at him. “I’m going to be just like Him,” he said, patting the picture again. Hopping down from the chair, Trent pushed his dump truck over to Brady. “Here. You can play with my truck. Jesus would let you.”
Embarrassed, Brady just stood there looking at the truck. Then he walked over to his little brother and put his arm around him.
“Thanks, Trent,” he said. “I’m going to be a better big brother too. Come on. I’ll help you get ready for bed. Then I’ll let you listen to my new tape.”
“On your very own recorder?” Trent asked in awe.
“Yes,” Brady answered. “Until it’s time to go to sleep.”
Trent noisily ran upstairs with Brady following behind, whistling his song. It was going to be a great week!

A few years ago, I became active in the Church again after six months of inactivity. My spiritual thirst was unbelievable, for I was once again on the right path. After just a few months, I felt the desire to serve the Lord as a missionary. I had interviews with my bishop, who helped me prepare. I had to wait to be truly ready, and in the meantime the bishop advised me to tell my parents of my plans.
My parents are members of the Church, but they had been less active for more than nine years. From the day I spoke with them about my desire, the opposition became real. I agreed with my family that if I passed the competitive examination from the school I had been accepted to, they would let me go on a mission in one year.
That year ended up being the most difficult of my life. My mother thought I would forget about my desire to go on a mission. However, after I had attended a few months of school, she realized I was truly preparing for a mission. So she cut off my financial support. It was then that my prayers became great blessings.
My Heavenly Father inspired me to look for a job, which I did. After finding three good openings, I wrote my letters of application and pleaded with the Lord to let me receive at least one positive response, for I had done all that He had commanded me.
A response came only three days later. I was called in for an interview with one of the companies. Following the interview, I got the job that day. The only problem was that I was still not earning enough money to cover all my expenses. After praying to God, I felt inspired to trust Him and not to fear. So I paid my tithing without fear.
A few weeks later my landlord asked to see me. “Most likely to talk about rent,” I thought. What he said was, “You will not need to pay your rent until you finish school!”
I could not believe it. This blessing enabled me to pay for what I needed, and most important, it helped me prepare financially for my mission. Miracles were taking place in my life at just the right time.
I have now completed my mission. I feel such gratitude for the ability to pray to our Father in Heaven. I am so happy to know with a certainty that He lives and He loves His children. If we listen to Him, we will see many miracles in our lives.

As a young man, I had many questions about the Church. Some of my questions were sincere. Others were not and reflected the doubts of others.
I often discussed my questions with my mother. I am sure that she could sense that many of my questions were sincere and from my heart. I think she was a little disappointed in those questions that were less sincere and more argumentative. However, she never put me down for having questions. She would listen and try to answer them. When she sensed that she had said all that she could and that I still had questions, she would say something like this: “David, that is a good question. While you are searching and reading and praying for the answer, why don’t you do the things you know you should and not do the things you know you should not?” This became the pattern for my search for truth. Through study, prayer, and keeping the commandments, I found that there are answers to all of my important questions. I also found that for some questions, continuing faith, patience, and revelation are needed.
Mom put the responsibility of developing faith and finding answers on me. She knew that the important answers would come from my seeking truth the way that Heavenly Father has prescribed. She knew that I needed to find the truth. She knew that I needed to be sincere in my questions and be willing to act on what I already knew to be true. She knew that I needed to study and pray and that I needed to develop greater patience as I sought answers from the Lord. Willingness to be patient is part of our search for truth and part of the Lord’s pattern of revealing truth.
Over time I came to know that my mother was teaching me Heavenly Father’s pattern for seeking truth. Faith grew, answers began to come, and I accepted a mission call.

I had known for months that something was going on, but it wasn’t until this moment that my friend admitted the truth to me out loud: she had been struggling with pornography for years, basically the entire time I had known her.
While sitting in the car listening to her confession, I was grateful. Don’t get me wrong—it hurt deeply to know she had been struggling so long without me knowing—but I was glad I was at a place where I could respond with love instead of judgment.
Sometimes the knowledge that pornography is evil can bleed into our perceptions of others. I know it did mine at one point. When I was younger, I would hear about people who struggled with pornography and my internal reaction would be anger and even disgust. But when my friend told me about her struggles, I was in a better place to comfort her because I had grown more aware of my own sins and weaknesses over the years.
I know now that being unkind is never justified. Jesus Christ, who is our perfect example, sought after the people who were despised by others. He spoke with Samaritans and sinners. Christ, who can’t “look upon sin with the least degree of allowance” (Doctrine and Covenants 1:31), looks “at us, imperfect as we are, without recoiling in horror and disgust.”1 So having that deep conversation with my friend, I tried to think of how Jesus would react. The story of the woman caught in adultery helped me know how to respond.
I loved my friend already, but I loved her even more after she told her secret. No matter what you or someone you love has done, “It is not possible for you to sink lower than the infinite light of Christ’s Atonement shines.”2

I have had the honor of working with the missionaries of the Church for over three decades, and I know that a great many of them were able to get through those first shaky minutes and hours and days of their mission because of their fathers or mothers. I remember one experience of a fine young man who spent his life on the ranch, just as his own father did. When the boy got into the mission field, it was all strange: too many people, not enough open spaces. He wanted badly to go home. Finally, the mission president had the young missionary call his father. The father listened patiently as his son said how homesick he was, and then the father spoke in terms that his son could understand, and as I heard about this, it brought a smile to my face. He said with firmness but love, “Son, you’re just going to have to ‘cowboy up.’” The boy knew exactly what that meant, and he is hanging on as the spirit of his mission begins to come. He knows his father will not give up on him.

When I eventually moved to a new neighborhood with my daughters, life took an unexpected turn. I had a brain accident and suffered a stroke. I was in a very dark place. During this difficult time, a bishop named Noel Sosa from my new ward reached out to me. He had dedicated himself to finding members of the Church in his neighborhood who were not coming to meetings. Upon discovering my situation, he mobilized the ward’s efforts to help me. With the support of our new Church family, led by the capable Relief Society president, Raquel, they cared for my daughters and me, not only attending to our physical needs but also nurturing our spiritual needs.
Initially, I hesitated to re-engage with the Church, but I overcame my doubts with my ward’s genuine love and support. I especially appreciated my brothers and sisters in the gospel who ministered to me with love. Their teachings awakened a testimony within me that I now share with others.

Josh W.

As a new deacon, Josh W. of Utah, USA, was asked to teach a lesson about being a disciple of Christ. “I found scriptures about when Peter and others were fishing. They tried one side of the boat and didn’t catch anything,” Josh says. “Then the Savior told them to fish on the other side, and they caught lots of fish (see Luke 5:5–11 and John 21:6–11). So in my lesson, we read that. Then we talked about how it’s like that for us. When we go on our own, we can have trouble. But when we listen to the Lord, He helps us.”

Josh says that learning, teaching, and sharing are important in priesthood quorums. “In Primary we learned a lot and had lots of activities,” he says. “Now we’re learning a lot and sharing. That means doing a lot with what we learn.” For example, after a priesthood lesson, Josh visited a friend who hadn’t been to church for a long time. “His parents work on Sundays, so they don’t come. But I told him he could come with me.”

Josh is learning the purpose of Young Men and Young Women. “It’s to show us how to become more like the Savior,” he says. He knows that the call to “come unto Christ” means moving along a path that started with baptism and confirmation, continues toward the temple, and leads to eternal life.

“I’m ready to move forward,” he says.

I have many regrets about the last four years of my life. I was raised in the Church, and many family members and friends have set good examples for me. Despite these blessings, I was not watchful enough, which caused a series of problems in my life.
It started when I was about 13 and became addicted to media. I watched endless TV and acted as if I would die without video games. My media addiction led to another problem: I didn’t have any good friends because I had not made enough of an effort to befriend the boys in my quorum. In an attempt to find friends, I looked in the wrong places and became part of an online chat group. In this group some people posted pornography. Because of the weakness that had come from my other problems, I was easily ensnared by pornography.
I tried to justify my behavior by making excuses: it’s not hurting anyone; it can’t be that wrong. I hated viewing pornography from the first time I saw it, but I became hooked. I wanted to be a good member of the Church, but I had made a series of mistakes and did not correct them in the right way for a long time.
It took me one and a half years to see my bishop. He helped me overcome the desire to view pornography. Over time I also began to make friends with the people in my ward, stake, and seminary class. I am 17 now, and only recently have I been able to feel free. Only in the last few months have I conquered my addiction to media, sincerely prayed daily, and regularly read the scriptures.

Eric’s father had a tiny farm out in the country. He had taken the family to work on the farm, but Eric remained at home in his shed, alone. Meanwhile, his sores enlarged to huge wounds and infection entered into his bones, a life-threatening condition called osteomyelitis.

When he was 18, Eric saw his friend Emmanuel Ofosu-hene speaking English with an obruni (white man). The obruni was a Mormon missionary, Elder Old. “I only spoke Twi, but Emmanuel interpreted for me: ‘I am so sick I think I will die. Can you help me know what to do so I can go to heaven?’

“Elder Old and his African companion sat with me and taught me. For some reason, they started with the Word of Wisdom. I knew they were speaking the truth because I already knew coffee and tobacco were bad.” They also gave Eric a brochure about the restored gospel of Jesus Christ and invited him to church.

“When I went, I saw this Church was different,” he says. “It was reverent.” Even though it took him an hour to push himself to church in his wheelchair, Eric loved the meetings. “I wanted to go up front and be with people,” he says. “But I stayed at the back because I knew I smelled bad.”

Eric told the missionaries, “What I am learning is true.” He also told them he wanted to be baptized, but doctors had warned him not to get his wounds wet. “I will rely on God to provide answers,” he said. He attended church for about a year and then became too ill and weak to wheel himself there.

Eric’s mother, Lucy, met the missionaries, studied the gospel, and was baptized in 2015. But because her broken leg had never been properly set, it was painful for her to walk. Attending meetings was a challenge for her, as well.
Eventually, Eric was taken to the hospital again. In Ghana, patients have to provide their own water, food, bedding, medicine, and bandages. If they have no money, they are not treated. Eric’s mother and sisters did what they could. Eric received food and medical attention infrequently, so he grew weaker.

Then Eric received some unexpected visitors. Missionaries, Sister Peprah and Sister Nafuna, had seen his photograph at the church and came to see him in the hospital and brought him food. It had been a year since he had been to church, but he told them he still wanted to be baptized.
A few days later, Eric’s sister visited him and found him very ill. She ran home and told their mother. Though their mother had suffered permanent leg damage in the accident with Eric, she walked to the hospital, wincing with every step. “You must come home,” she told Eric. “If you’re going to die, I at least want you near.”
The next morning, the sister missionaries came to the house. “You weren’t at the hospital,” Sister Peprah said. “So we came here.” With them were Elder and Sister Wood, senior missionaries from New Zealand. They took inventory of needs and promised to return.
A few days later, Eric’s father took the family back to the farm—except Eric, who found himself alone again and without food or water. When Elder and Sister Wood returned and discovered Eric alone and hungry, they brought him food and water. They returned the next day and noticed fluid running down his leg and found a huge open ulcer on his thigh. They immediately took Eric back to the hospital.
The Woods learned of a medical humanitarian team from the United States that would be coming to Ghana. The team would perform surgery for Eric without cost. The surgeon treated the ulcer on Eric’s leg. But when he saw the severity of Eric’s wounds, as well as the osteomyelitis, he determined he could not do all the necessary procedures in Ghana. Based on his recommendation, the humanitarian organization initiated a process that would eventually bring Eric to the United States to receive additional treatment and permanently close his wounds. In addition, a shelter in Winneba, Ghana, run by members of the Church, agreed to have Eric live there when he returned so that he could attend school and complete his education.
While in Utah for surgery, Eric visits the reflecting pool near the Salt Lake Temple. Eric says he loves the feeling of peace he finds at the Salt Lake Temple.
Elder Wood, an engineer by profession, rebuilt Eric’s hand-pedal tricycle. He performed a similar overhaul on his wheelchair. He also counseled with President Cosgrave of the Ghana Kumasi Mission, a medical doctor. They felt Eric could be baptized if proper precautions were taken.
Eric shows his tricycle to his mother and siblings after senior missionaries repaired it.
“Elder Wood wrapped my body in plastic, with tape around the plastic,” Eric explains. “Then he carried me into a font filled with water treated with disinfectant. I was baptized on June 26, 2016.” Eric had relied on the Lord, and the Lord had provided a way.
Today, Eric is studying to become a computer technician. But also feels he can influence others through music—he likes to rap in Twi. His upbeat message talks about how God rescued him. One of his favorite scriptures says, “Look to God and live” (Alma 37:47). And he still says, “I see God in everything.”
He adds, “I don’t want anyone to think the way Heavenly Father has blessed me is identical to how He will bless them. But He will bless those who trust Him. When you have to deal with hard things, pray and trust God.”
Eric looks forward to a bright future. He’s studying to be a computer technician and also feels he can inspire others with music.

You know from studying Church history that we have tried to live as one in a variety of settings. A story from one of those tries, in Orderville, Utah, gives us a clue as to why it is so hard.
Orderville was founded in 1870 and 1871 by people who wanted to live the united order; in 1875 they began the order. They built housing units in a square, with a common dining hall. They built a storehouse, shoe shop, bakery, blacksmith shop, tannery, schoolhouse, sheep shed, and woolen factory. They grew and made nearly everything they needed, from soap to trousers. They had carpenters, midwives, teachers, artists, and musicians. They produced enough surplus that they could sell it in neighboring towns for cash: with that they built up a capital fund to buy more land and equipment.
The population rose to seven hundred people. One hundred and fifty of them gave Orderville a special advantage: they had come to Orderville from the mission on the Muddy River, where they had nearly starved. When those who had been called to the Muddy were released, they were in near destitution. Twenty-four of those families went to Long Valley, founded Orderville, and pledged all they had to the Lord. They didn’t have much, but their poverty may have been their greatest contribution. Their having almost nothing provided a basis for future comparison that might have guaranteed gratitude: any food or clothing or housing that came to them in Orderville would be treasure compared to their privation on the Muddy mission.
But time passed, the railroad came, and a mining boom put cash in the hands of people in the neighboring towns. They could buy imported clothes, and they did. The people in Orderville were living better than they had in years, but the memory of poverty on the Muddy had faded. They now focused on what was in the next town. And so they felt old-fashioned and deprived.
One ingenious boy acted on the discontent he felt when he was denied a new pair of pants from the Orderville factory because his were not worn out yet. He secretly gathered the docked lambs’ tails from the spring crop. He sheared the wool from them and stored it in sacks. Then, when he was sent with a load of wool to sell in Nephi, he took his sacks along and exchanged them for a pair of store pants. He created a sensation when he wore the new-style pants to the next dance.
The president of the order asked him what he had done. The boy gave an honest answer. So they called him into a meeting and told him to bring the pants. They commended him for his initiative, pointed out that the pants really belonged to the order, and took them. But they told him this: the pants would be taken apart, used as a pattern, and henceforth Orderville pants would have the new store-bought style. And he would get the first pair.
That did not quite end the pants rebellion. Orders for new pants soon swamped the tailoring department. When the orders were denied because pants weren’t yet worn out, boys began slipping into the shed where the grinding wheel was housed. Soon, pants began to wear out quickly. The elders gave in, sent a load of wool out to trade for cloth, and the new-style pants were produced for everyone.
You know that isn’t a happy ending. There were many challenges Orderville faced in the ten years they lived the order there. One of them they never really conquered. It was the problem of not remembering. That is a problem we must solve, too.

Damon; King; Pythias. (Illustrated by Dilleen Marsh.)
Damon hurried along the cold stone passageway beneath the castle. He was looking for his friend Pythias, who had been arrested by the king’s soldiers. Damon searched among the prisoners until he found Pythias, who was chained in a dim corner of the dungeon.
“Why did they bring you here, my friend?” asked Damon.
Pythias reached his hand between the narrow bars to touch his childhood friend. “I am accused of being a rebel,” Pythias answered. “But I did nothing.”
The two young men did not hear the outer door open as the king entered the dungeon. He stood listening to the boys talk.
“How can I help you?” asked Damon. “Shall I go to your parents and comfort them?”
“If only I could see them again … , ” said Pythias. “If only I could say farewell to them … then I would return again to prison.”
The king laughed aloud. “So, you would come back to die if I would release you to say good-bye to your parents?” the monarch asked skeptically.
“I would come back,” Pythias said simply. “I promise that I would come back.”
“How do I know that you would keep your promise?” roared the king. His eyes glared.
Damon stood before the king. “Let me stay here in his place. Pythias has always kept his word. You may execute me if he does not keep his promise.”
The king could not believe his ears. This would be an interesting story to tell—a boy willing to risk his life for the promise of a friend. “I will grant your wish, Pythias,” said the king, “if Damon will take your place.” And so it was. Pythias was released, and Damon was chained in his friend’s place.
Many days passed. The king came to the prison to taunt Damon. “You will die for your friend—he has not kept his promise!” jeered the king. “Pythias always keeps his word,” replied Damon calmly.
Finally the day of the execution arrived. Many people came to mock the boy who had entrusted his life to his friend. “We told you that he would not return,” they jeered.
“He will come if he can,” Damon said. “It is a long way, and he will come if he—”
“Here he comes!” shouted a soldier. “Pythias has returned!”
Damon smiled as Pythias rushed to take his place. Storms and misfortune had delayed him, and Pythias could hardly breathe after his hard run. “I made it, Damon!” he panted.
“I knew that you would,” his friend replied.
The king was amazed. Never had he known that there could be such friendship and loyalty. His heart softened, and he said, “Go, Damon and Pythias. Go back to your homes. Keeping your promise has set you free.” Then the king turned to the crowd and said, “I would give all my wealth to have one such friend.” (Adapted from “Love Fails Not,” Sharing Time Resource Manual, page 57.)

In 2011, I made one of the most important decisions in my life. It has brought me the greatest treasures I have ever had. I decided to serve a mission, but it was not an easy decision.
The Lord gave me the opportunity to enjoy soccer during my childhood and my youth. I represented Paraguay in international tournaments, traveling with my country’s national youth soccer team, Libertad, to countries in Europe, Asia, and South America.
Fortunately, my parents always coupled my sporting activities with a proper education and a spiritual upbringing. My mother’s faith and testimony definitely were the seeds from which my own faith and testimony grew. Because of her faithfulness, I participated in seminary despite my busy sports schedule.
Although I had heard about full-time missions ever since I was a child, I could not make up my mind about serving a mission. That changed when my father accepted a call to serve in the bishopric of our ward. This was a difficult decision for my father, since he was deeply involved in my sporting career. He was always at my soccer practice and matches, and we spent a lot of time together. For this reason, accepting a call to serve in the bishopric would mean giving up time supporting my career.
During the sacrament meeting when my father was sustained, a powerful thought came into my mind, telling me that the sacrifices of others would be in vain if I was not willing to sacrifice important things for the right reasons. During the testimonies, someone spoke about the idea that if we are obedient, our families can be eternal. That thought touched my heart, and I decided that I would do whatever was in my power to be with my family forever. During the classes that Sunday, the importance of obeying the commandments was brought up numerous times. So strongly did I feel the Spirit prompting me to serve the Lord that during family home evening, I informed my family of my decision to serve a mission.
My decision meant that I would have to interrupt my college education as well as resolve the five-year contract that I had with my soccer club. From the start, the Lord opened doors and touched hearts so the contract could be resolved.
After I submitted my missionary papers, I listened to the April 2011 general conference, in which Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles shared the missionary experience of Sidney Going, who had been a professional rugby player and a member of New Zealand’s national team. The fact that Brother Going served a mission and later returned and continued his professional career taught me a lesson. Throughout my mission and until this very day, listening to that talk time and time again has blessed me and brought peace to my heart. The countless testimonies that family, ward, and stake members shared with me at different times not only strengthened my decision to serve but also sustained me during the difficult moments on my mission.
An additional source of satisfaction in my life was that my decision to enter the mission field helped my three closest friends also decide to serve a mission. They later served as zone leaders, as an assistant to the mission president, and even as a branch president. We now have our eyes set on the course that will allow us to return to Heavenly Father’s presence.
I am not the same person I was three years ago. My greatest desire is to do the Lord’s will. The Lord blessed me “an hundredfold” (Matthew 19:29). I have a living and real testimony of the divinity of Heavenly Father, His Beloved Son and His Atonement, the purifying power of the Holy Spirit of God, and the marvelous work and wonder of these latter days, when the gospel has been restored to the earth through the Prophet Joseph Smith (see Isaiah 29:14).
My heart overflows with love and gratitude for this sacred time and for knowing and loving so many brothers and sisters in the Uruguay Montevideo Mission. Few blessings are as great as serving among them. Nothing else has given me such great joy and peace or brought me so many miracles as has my missionary service.

Delynn, 24, accepted an internship with the computer division of a major local employer. During her internship she worked on several challenging projects. The established programmers taught her techniques she had not learned through her course work. She worked hard and learned as much as she could. After the internship, she kept in touch. As graduation drew closer, her former supervisor asked if she would be interested in coming back to the firm. She also received several offers from other companies. Delynn chose the company she had interned with, because she knew the environment in which she would be working and enjoyed the challenges she knew she would receive. Since she had already worked for them, the company assigned her to a key project within weeks of starting.

Many years ago, when I was a little thinner and more physically fit, I completed a 30-day wilderness survival course. During the third week of that extraordinarily rigorous experience, we were left in groups of four or five students (without an instructor) and expected to find our way from one point on a topographical map to another point (a distance of about 50 miles). After two days of trudging through the snow in the tops of the Henry Mountains in southern Utah and getting lost on several occasions as we made our way down into the valley, my companions and I were extremely grateful on the third day to be able to identify our location with certainty. We arrived at a stream in the middle of a beautiful meadow. All we had to do was follow this river to our rendezvous point. It would be impossible for us to get lost again. So we gleefully walked along the riverbank, stopping occasionally to enjoy the scenery. The river was wide, slow, and shallow. When we chose to switch to the other side, it was easy to cross the stream by jumping from rock to rock. There came a time, however, when there was no bank. What started out as a grassy meadow had become something of a canyon. As I kept jumping from rock to rock, I remember thinking, “If only I can keep my boots dry. I hate wet boots!”

The stream was still slow, wide, and shallow, and when there wasn’t a rock to jump to, it was a relief to find out that I could walk on flat sandstone with the water only a few inches deep. The water still would not get inside my boots. But after an hour or so of this kind of careful walking, the canyon became narrower, and there was no place to walk without getting my boots wet—inside and out. We were not interested in turning around and finding another route to the rendezvous point. We had spent too much time and energy getting this far, so we bravely continued with water just above our knees. I remember thinking, “If only I can keep my pack dry. It would really be a disaster if all my clothes and my blanket got wet.” Fortunately the water was quite clear, and I was able to see where to walk in order to stay in the shallower parts of the river. After an hour or two of this kind of progress, I noticed that the canyon was becoming even narrower, and the inevitable happened—there was no shallow spot. We still were determined to press forward rather than backtrack, even though the bottom half of my pack was now drenched. Then, after another hour or so of carefully making my way in chest-high water, I took a step and felt nothing beneath my feet. My thoughts had evolved from “if only I can keep my boots dry” to “if only I can keep my pack dry” to “if only I can stay alive!” I paddled desperately for about 50 feet or so. And, finally, there was a welcome sight—a break in the canyon wall and a sandy bank. We climbed out of the water and examined our packs. Everything was soaked! We made a fire, and as I sat there drying myself, my clothes, and everything in my pack, I felt only gratitude. I remember reflecting on what a waste of time it had been to worry about getting my boots wet.

Now, having had that experience and other similar experiences, I can respond to a client with empathy. I can say, metaphorically, “I can see that you don’t like to get your boots wet” or “You’re worried about getting your pack wet” or “You must be afraid you are about to drown.” I know what it feels like to be afraid you are going to drown. But even though I have empathy for my client’s feelings, I won’t share my client’s anxiety because I also have a vision of that client sitting on the bank by a fire (metaphorically speaking) and feeling only gratitude.

The summer of 1831 was a time of great promise for a young printer by the name of William Phelps. He had just arrived with his family in Kirtland, Ohio. Brother Phelps was born in 1792 in New Jersey. In the spring of 1830, he read an announcement indicating that the Book of Mormon was about to be released from the press. His interest in this book later led him to purchase a copy from Parley Pratt. It was the reading of this book that prompted him to move to Kirtland where he sought audience with the prophet and inquired as to his duty. On June 14, Joseph received a revelation from the Lord, recorded in Section 55 of the Doctrine and Covenants.

The revelation also directed Brother Phelps to be ordained an Elder and to travel to Missouri to assist Oliver Cowdery with printing and writing books for children.
Brother Phelps had many significant opportunities to serve and his name is mentioned in four additional sections of the Doctrine and Covenants. One of the things for which he is best remembered is the fact that he composed or adapted the lyrics of fifteen of the hymns of our church, including the ones we will sing today. He helped print the 1835 copy of the Doctrine and Covenants, and he printed the first hymnal for the Church that same year.
One of the high points for the early saints came in March of 1836 with the dedication of the first temple of this dispensation in Kirtland. From the pen of Brother Phelps came the beloved words sung at the dedication service.

The time of rejoicing, however, was soon followed by a time of great trial. It was only thirty months after the glorious visitations from the Savior and other heavenly beings that Joseph Smith found himself imprisoned in the tiny jail at Liberty, Missouri. There he remained through the Christmas season of 1838, through the winter, and well into 1839. The pain and sorrow he suffered were expressed vehemently in letters to the saints. Many who stood beside him in the beginning of this dispensation and even shared in heavenly manifestations had apostatized and been excommunicated for one reason or another. Some of these dissenters testified against him during hearings in Richmond and facilitated his imprisonment.
Among these traitors was William Phelps.

Not long after this revelation was received, the incarceration in Liberty Jail came to an end. It was finished. Joseph moved with the Saints to Nauvoo, and enjoyed a few years of peace before the fateful day of June 27, 1844. Most of those who had apostatized from the Church in Missouri remained distant from the saints and some contributed to the horror of Carthage. One brother, however, felt the influence of the Holy Spirit, prompting him to repentance, sore repentance. Through prayer and answers in a remarkable dream, he was motivated to take the necessary steps. Hoping humbly, even desperately, for just a little mercy, William W. Phelps wrote to the prophet from Dayton, Ohio. It was the 29th of June 1840:
“Brother Joseph: I am alive, and with the help of God, I mean to still live. I am as the prodigal son, though I never doubt or disbelieve the fulness of the Gospel… I have seen the folly of my way, and I tremble at the gulf I have passed . . . I know my situation, you know it, and God knows it, and I want to be saved if my friends will help me . . . I ask forgiveness in the name of Jesus Christ of all the Saints . . . I will make all the satisfaction on every point that God or Saints can require. Amen. W. W. Phelps (HC 4:141-142).
William Phelps was in a dark place. More than anything, he wanted the darkness to end. Like Peter, he longed for a second chance. He wanted the terrible choice of the past to be finished.

On July 22, less than a month after William Phelps had written his letter of repentance, the prophet Joseph responded with the following:
“Dear Brother Phelps: I must say that it is with no ordinary feelings I endeavor to write a few lines to you in answer of yours... Believing your confession to be real, and your repentance genuine, I shall be happy once again to give you the right hand of fellowship, and rejoice over the returning prodigal. Your letter was read to the Saints last Sunday, and an expression of their feeling was taken, when it was unanimously resolved that W. W. Phelps should be received into full fellowship. ‘Come on, dear brother, since the war is past, for friends at first, are friends again at last.’ Yours as ever, Joseph Smith Jun.” (HC 4:162-164).
William W. Phelps joined the Saints in Nauvoo. He became an ordinance worker in the Nauvoo temple. He traveled west with the Saints in 1849. Shortly thereafter, he served a mission for the Church. In 1872, he passed away in Salt Lake City, an active high priest.

I had a recent experience that has helped to deepen and sharpen that understanding. This experience overlaps with the story of Erika Hunter that President Worthen shared in university conference. I will offer a slightly different context to that great story. In the first few weeks of August, units from across campus come and make presentations to the President’s Council as part of resource planning. In these presentations, unit leaders both report on good events of the past year as well as discuss resource needs and plans for the upcoming year.

This year in the resource planning presentation by the McKay School of Education, interim dean Kendra Hall-Kenyon shared Erika’s story of how BYU’s unique light blessed Erika to overcome an obstacle. As you recall from President Worthen’s address, Erika had accepted her first position teaching second-grade students. She shared, “On the first day, . . . I loved it! The second day, I was unsure. And by the third day, I was ready to quit. It was so hard!”

Over the next few days, while wrestling with these feelings, she prayed for help. And Erika did receive an answer to her prayer. While driving to work a few weeks into the term, she was blessed to remember counsel from one of her instructors—that she was a child of God and so were all of her students, including the ones who pushed her buttons. Erika’s instructor taught that as public school teachers, they can’t walk into a classroom and teach the gospel directly to their students, but they can always bring the Savior with them into that space.

And that answer was enough. Erika didn’t quit. With that momentary reminder of primary identity, she doubled down on class preparation with new focus, returned to the classroom with more determination and, to keep the story brief, ended up having a great experience with her class that year.

Elder Perry had a lifelong gift for making friends. When he worked in New York, USA, as a retail executive, he thought his fellow commuters seemed unfriendly. So he decided to shake things up.
One man always stood on the same platform location to wait for the train. He also picked the same seat on the train every day.
To build a friendship, Elder Perry showed up early several days in a row to grab those spots before the man could. At first the man was irritated, but before long, the two were laughing and it turned into a game—a game the whole train station eventually enjoyed as more and more commuters joined in. In time they all grew so close that they sang Christmas carols together at the station. “It livened up the whole platform,” Elder Perry remembered.

My parents knew nothing about the NCAA or college sports. As I started to excel in football, it suddenly became clear to them that this was an avenue to pursue a coveted college education. Some of the top coaches from elite universities came to our humble home to recruit me. They all sat on my mother’s woven mats because we didn’t have furniture. They all made their pitch on those mats. My parents were intrigued by the American system that determined if you were really, really good at football, the university would pay everything: tuition, books, room, and board. What they call a “full-ride scholarship.” I wouldn’t have to fire dance, play the Tongan NAFA or sell pineapple delights, even if I wanted to. By NCAA law, I couldn’t work. When my father asked Arizona State’s head football coach, Frank Kush, in his broken English, “Coach, what my son need to come to ASU?” Frank Kush replied with a smile, “a toothbrush.” My father didn’t understand.
Until my mother whispered to him in Tongan, “Polosi fulu nifo… he means, Vai only needs his toothbrush.” My father smiled and said, “Oi aue! To to atu aa Amelika! How beautiful is America?”
We now faced a new challenge: qualifying me academically for those scholarship offers. My parents both worked long hours: mom as a factory seamstress and dad as a security guard. My parents were oblivious to my academic challenges. They never attended parent/teacher night because I didn’t bother telling them. Why would I? I was making C’s and D’s.
My mother had a visiting teacher named Barbara Nielsen. Sister Nielsen happened to be an English teacher at my high school and she was also the faculty advisor of the school newspaper. As I was excelling on the field, I was failing in the classroom. Sister Nielsen knew that. So she came to our home and told my mother, “Ruby, I want Vai in my English class. And I want him to apply for a reporter position on the school newspaper. It will help him with his grammar and I’ll teach him how to write. Unless he gets high marks on his SAT, I’m afraid he won’t qualify to any of those prestigious schools recruiting him.”
So, Barbara Nielsen came weekly, not monthly, but weekly. Together we read Dickens’ Great Expectations, Oliver Twist and A Tale of Two Cities. We read Harper Lee’s “To Kill A Mockingbird,” and Twain’s “Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn.” We also did a deep dive into Harriett Beecher Stowe’s “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” We didn’t just read these classics, Sister Nielsen wanted to have “conversations” about them. She expected me to follow and understand the plot, be familiar with the central characters, the protagonists and antagonists. She wanted to know my opinion on why the authors cast Pip, Scout and Uncle Tom as the protagonist in their stories… I don’t know!! I’m 16 years old!! I didn’t say it, I just thought it. I could not believe my dumb luck! My English teacher is my mother’s visiting teacher! I was a high school football star but when Barbara Nielsen visited our home, my mother insisted that I sit at her side like a five-year-old. In a word… it was humiliating. You think my mother cared? Not ONE bit.
Today, Barbara Nielsen is in her 80’s. I visited her a few years ago. She is the reason I qualified for BYU. She is the reason I graduated with a degree in Broadcast Journalism. Barbara Nielsen is the reason I’m anchoring television news in Philadelphia, the fourth largest TV market in the country. She is why within a generation of my parents’ immigration from Tonga, we have reaped the rewards of an American education.
Because my angel mother didn’t know how to navigate the American college system, she prayed and the Lord sent her Barbara Nielsen. What are the chances that my huge public high school’s best English teacher and faculty advisor of the school newspaper would be in my ward? I believe Ruby Sikahema’s prayers made it so.

I share the following experience with permission. A husband and father in my ward requested an interview with me. He confessed that he was struggling with an addiction to pornography. He desperately wanted to put his destructive behavior behind him, but he had not been able to do so. He began to pour out his heart, explaining how the roots of this terrible habit were in his childhood. But in the middle of this outpouring he stopped abruptly and said, seeming to be almost angry, “No! I will not make excuses. What I am doing is wrong. It is evil, and nothing can justify it.” He cut himself short, and then he went on to express concern that there were two sides to him. He told me of his feelings and worries that he himself might actually be evil.

I told this good brother, this beloved spirit child of our Heavenly Father, that, yes, he needed to repent and overcome, but that he also needed to quit tearing himself down. He needed to remember who he is—a son of God! “You are where you are,” I told him. “Accept and acknowledge that. But you must also acknowledge and accept who you are.” It was important that he not leave room for justifying his behavior—that he not rationalize or convince himself that somehow his actions were not destructive or contrary to the principles of righteousness. But at the same time, if he would not allow himself room to understand the roots of his problem, how could he hope to overcome it? If he allowed himself no room for understanding, no kindness, no mercy, how could he truly know and remember who he is and why he is here? And without this, how could he develop the determination to undertake and persevere in the difficult but vital task of overcoming?

Like many who become caught up in Satan’s snares, this good brother had heard Lucifer’s whispered lies, and in his guilt and shame he had begun to believe them. Satan would have us believe that when we do wrong, it is over—that we have irrevocably forfeited our promised blessings. “What you have done is too sinful, too ugly for you to ever be fully restored to your full potential,” he might whisper. “After all, you are a returned missionary, you have made sacred temple covenants, you are a husband and father, or you are a wife and mother, and look what you have done!” In this way he would have us become caught up not only in a web of destructive sin but also in a self-reinforcing cycle of denying who we really are and why we are really here. That cycle results in self-loathing and discouragement and ultimately in the inability to move forward.

Is it not emblematic of his essential deceitfulness that the very being who tries to chain you into soul-destroying patterns then whispers to you that you are worthless because you have done the very things that he has urged you to do?

I did my best to encourage this good brother, to give him hope. I promised him that the Atonement of the Savior was still available to him, as it is available to each of us. I promised him that his full potential as a child of God was still available to him if he would repent. I asked him to work toward remembering who he is, to learn to understand and love and eventually even forgive himself.

Some of his Church privileges were suspended for a time—with the sole intent of helping him to heal. I asked him to meet with a therapist who could help him understand his weakness and why, from his childhood, it had become so consuming. Together we formulated goals and plans that would, with faith and prayer, help him to eventually understand and overcome and move forward on the path to returning to his Father in Heaven—renewed and cleansed and healed.

Over time I saw the light of hope return to this brother’s eyes. The process was not easy, and he was not perfect in his efforts at first, but he found immediate peace and joy in the process of moving forward! After months of learning and struggling and progressing, the day came when his temple recommend was returned to him. And we rejoiced together.