Gospel Story Finder

I laughed at her. I couldn’t help it. She was so sweet and open and sincere. Even though she was four years younger than myself, she was probably the best friend I had ever had. She had introduced me to the gospel. She had changed my life. Lori was the only Mormon girl I’d ever known, and it seemed to me she was a pretty decent specimen of the ideal.
Last summer the library hired two new high school students, and Lori was one of them. Friendly and talkative, it didn’t take her long to establish herself on good terms with all the other workers or to make sure that everyone knew she was a Latter-day Saint. I had read about the Mormons and Brigham Young in the history books at school, but I didn’t really know anything. And I couldn’t understand why this girl made me feel suddenly so curious, so interested in something I had never even thought about before.
That was only a year ago. I marveled how one brief year could totally change a person’s life. Nothing was the same as it had been before I learned about the gospel and joined the Church. I was involved in different activities now and had different friends. I thought different thoughts and wanted different things. And I was happier, and more miserable, than I had ever been in my life.

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.”

When my son Davy joined his school’s cross-country team in his fourth-grade year, his great talent for running quickly became apparent. He placed high in races against other competitive runners, and we were very proud of him.
Davy was soon invited to join a running club some local coaches had started. It was a great opportunity, but there was one problem—many of the meets were on Sundays. So Davy turned down their invitation.
When Davy didn’t accept their invitation the next year, the coaches assumed my husband and I were preventing him from joining the club. But we let them know the choice was Davy’s own.
Davy’s answer to the coaches was, “I would really like to join the club, but I don’t run on Sundays.”
By the sixth grade, Davy had developed a real “kick” in his running that kept him among the top two or three runners in every school meet. Again came the invitation to join the running club. This time there was an added incentive—the boys were planning to go across the United States to compete in the national finals for their age group. The coaches and team members really wanted Davy to join them.
Davy received the priesthood and was ordained a deacon that year. When he discussed with us the invitation from the running club, we asked only, “Son, what about your priesthood responsibilities?”
Davy’s answer to the team was, “I need to be in church on Sundays.”
The club went to the national finals, competed against teams from all over the country, and won; they were the national champions. When the boys returned home, the school, the parents, and the club coaches were ecstatic with their accomplishment. The school held a special assembly with newspaper reporters and TV cameras. They called the boys up one by one as loud applause rang from the audience.
Davy sat and watched as each boy received the recognition that might have been his had he chosen differently. My heart ached for him as I saw the tears in his eyes. I tapped him on the shoulder, and we left the cheering crowd. In a secluded spot, I held him tight, and we cried together for a moment. Then I told him how proud I was of him. Davy had done what Heavenly Father expected of him. The admiration of the crowd and the recognition of the world are powerful attractions, but they have little to do with our eternal progress.
A few days later, I shared Davy’s experience with a friend. Shortly afterwards, my friend sent Davy a letter, along with a trophy. On the trophy was inscribed, “Davy: A Champion of Youth.”
The letter read: “You were given agency to choose. Thank you for your example. You are truly a champion.”

Before we get into some of these basic truths as taught in the scriptures and by living prophets of our day, let me go back again in time some thirty years ago when we were living in Mexico City with our young family.
I was an executive with a large international bank, and involved in the construction of our new corporate headquarters. It would be 23 stories tall and would cover a small block on the beautiful Paseo de la Reforma Avenue.
Mexico City is one of the great cities of the world, but part of it sits atop a former lakebed. In such areas the ground is unstable, so we actually spent more money below the ground than we did on the part of the building that would be visible. The pilings and footings as part of the foundation were like giant pillars and went all the way down to solid bedrock.
In 1985, three years after the building was completed, a powerful earthquake hit Mexico City. Thousands were killed, and many buildings were completely destroyed, including office buildings, hospitals, hotels and government buildings. The quake registered 8.1 on the Richter scale, and the default line ran right down Reforma Avenue. Despite the enormous destruction around us, the building was preserved. Many of the destroyed buildings had been built about the same time as ours. The difference was pillars that anchored our foundation and building to bedrock.
You may never build a corporate headquarters. But you are a builder. We all are. You are laying the foundation for your life, and your eternity. Even the most modern building has a limited lifetime. Eventually it will crumble. But you and I are building both for time (this life) and for eternity.

In 1978, Elder Marvin J. Ashton of the Quorum of the Twelve published a valuable book for young and old entitled What Is Your Destination? He expressed concern that many become confused in their journey through life. Some may be lost, on the other hand, because they think they have arrived! Elder Ashton mentioned examples of fundamental guidelines such as temple marriage, mission calls, education, and opportunities for service, pointing out that progress “is a continuing process, not a state of arrival.”
Decisions determine and regulate our progress. We make them every day. To make wise ones, it is important to have goals, objectives, purposes, a sense of direction, constant reevaluation and reckoning. Following missionary service in the British Isles, I wrote some goals for the next 20 years of my life on a yellow pad of paper. I still have that pad. Nearly all of the goals I set have been exceeded. I was blessed to be guided by the principle Elder Ashton outlined, namely that “it is a continuing process, not a state of arrival.” One objective outlined was not achieved, but that was something beyond my control. The Lord saw fit not to grant that particular blessing. However, it was compensated for in many, many other ways.
The teachings and practices of the Church provide very significant guidelines: clean living, that we may have health and strength, joy and happiness on earth; baptism, reminding us of our status and accountability; the gift of the Holy Ghost, our striving to really receive and benefit from this personage whose mission is to guide us into all truth; missionary service; temple marriage; a useful and productive life of service through work; family and children; constant self-improvement to equip us for better service to our fellowmen. The gospel principles of faith and repentance are the keys to (1) achievement, (2) correction of mistakes, and (3) reevaluation of where we are going.
To make decisions, the best formula I have found is prayer, study, work, seeking wise counsel, and then doing something about it. May I offer a few examples.
Entering Roosevelt Junior High School in Salt Lake City required some important decisions for me. One September day I was confronted with new choices! What subjects to take? Thus far my schooling had been prescribed. We had gone at 9:00 A.M. and followed through the day with what was presented in our homeroom. Now we were to change classes each period, going from room to room. Should I take Algebra A and B, or a course called Mathematics? Or, something called General Science? English, physical education, and some selections were prescribed. But there was remarkable latitude in other choices. I could take U.S. History, or something called Civics. I could elect to study Spanish, Latin, or French. Some of us had the benefit of prior consultation with our parents. In line with their counsel, I was left with the choices I have indicated.
I also discussed my choices with two classmates. One was the son of a University of Utah professor of history. The other was a future doctor of medicine, whose older brothers had already attended the University of Utah and had gone through “the mill.” Both were wise young men. I benefited by discussion with them. After a few hours, I made my choices: Algebra A with Miss Cora D. Patterson, continuing the second semester with Algebra B, the binomial theorem, factoring, and other algebraic systems. I elected Spanish, a modern language, with Miss Grace Hogan as teacher. Assignments to stake conferences in Mexico and Latin-America have been assisted by that choice. Third period found me in U.S. History, a subject I dearly loved, with Miss M. Hulbert. Then came the luncheon break. Period four was physical education, under E. V. Howell. Period five in English brought Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar with Mrs. Jessie Hutchinson. Sixth period I elected music. I found my way to the room where Mrs. Matilda W. Cahoon presided.
This challenge of choices continued throughout high school and the university years following. The same process of consultation with parents and fellow students, prayer, study, and working it out in my own mind, produced the selections. In later years it was a great blessing to have elected in the ninth grade to study geometry, under Miss Snyder, and especially Ancient History under an excellent teacher, Miss Welthea M. Learned. I learned much of the history of the classical Middle East, Greece, and Rome and became acquainted with architectural and art forms that have enriched my life.
The decision to go on a mission had been made long before the call was received. Prayerful effort and study had helped me to qualify. That decision, blessed with the support of my parents and family, has brought the greatest blessings and some of the greatest experiences of my life.
A big decision following my mission was a career. What should I do? A new position opened with the Union Pacific Railroad Company as a passenger representative. After two months, other choices confronted me. An opportunity came to return to ZCMI in its finance division, plus part-time work as an early morning seminary teacher serving Salt Lake East High School; or to work as a mathematics teacher in Tucson, Arizona, High School, or as director of music at the Box Elder High School in Brigham City. I made it a matter of study and prayer. On an eventful afternoon I walked over to Temple Square during my lunch hour for a special, quiet prayer. The decision followed. The formula—prayer, study, work, consultation with parents and trusted friends—produced results.
The decision for graduate school came next. Harvard? The University of Chicago? London School of Economics? University of California at Berkeley? UCLA? I wrote to them all and was guided in the final decision by financial considerations and some sound counsel from a revered loved one. UCLA at that time had all of the advantages of the great prestige of the University of California, plus a new vital campus with extraordinarily high standards. I applied and was admitted and during the next three years was blessed with a loving wife, two children, part-time work, fellowships and assistantships, and a PhD.
So it has gone through life. I have faced decisions of whether or not to return to Utah State University in Logan, Utah, from Swarthmore College in Pennsylvania; accept an overseas appointment in Greece and Turkey; become the cultural attaché at the embassy in India; or serve in several university presidencies. In each case I was guided by the careful process indicated. These occupational choices often represented something expressed in Robert Frost’s poem.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood. …
I took the one …
And that has made all the difference.
(“The Road Not Taken” in The Poetry of Robert Frost, Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1969, p. 105)
I have learned that if we follow the guidelines afforded by the gospel, we will always be on solid ground.
You, too, may be guided in your choice of subjects to study, in what you should major in at college, in your choice of occupation, in the choice of friends and your eternal companion. As Elder Ashton wrote in his book, “You can get there from here!”

I noticed, however, that in the following years there was a little soft spot in my character. For example, after having served as a missionary and for four years in the U.S. Armed Forces, I was studying at a university, and there, sometimes, sitting in the back of the room during an examination, I discovered that I had a physical disability. A certain muscle in my neck had a tendency to twist my head in the direction of my neighbor’s paper. I was unaware how this weakness had developed, but it began to trouble me. I knew, of course, what was right, and I didn’t cheat, but how was I to control the involuntary muscle spasm?
One day I performed mental surgery on my neck. It was in the form of a lecture to myself, as follows: “Grant, before you came to school this morning you knew about this examination and you have studied the material carefully. Don’t you remember how, because it was so important, you knelt down and asked Heavenly Father to quicken your mind and increase your powers of memory and recall? Now, Grant, you know the rules of the gospel. You understand that if you take help from your neighbor, you are not going to get any from the Lord. Just make up your mind. Whose help would you rather have?”
You can see how, after that little pep talk, my neck muscle was completely cured.

During World War II, a friend of mine was serving in the South Pacific when his plane was shot down over the ocean. He and the other crew members successfully parachuted from the burning plane, inflated their life rafts, and clung to those rafts for three days.

On the third day they spotted what they knew to be a rescue vessel. It passed them by. The next morning it passed them by again. They began to despair as they realized that this was the last day the rescue vessel would be in the area.

Then the Holy Spirit spoke to my friend: “You have the priesthood. Command the rescuers to pick you up.”

He did as prompted: “In the name of Jesus Christ and by the power of the priesthood, turn about and pick us up.”

Within a few minutes the vessel was beside them, helping them on deck. A faithful and worthy bearer of the priesthood, in his extremity, had exercised that priesthood, blessing his life and the lives of others.

There are moments in our lives that can shape our core selves. We usually don’t perceive at the time that these experiences will prove pivotal. We tend to regard them as fairly routine or mundane. It is only in the process of time that we come to sense something of their importance for us personally. Nor do these events have to involve spectacular happenings - some very “small and simple things” can imprint themselves on our minds and hearts and influence the pattern of our lives. I had one such experience as a six-year-old child.
The year was 1979, the location - Dublin, Ireland. The event was the building of the Finglas Chapel (now Dublin Ireland Stake centre). In those days members were expected to help with the manual labour of constructing a chapel. My Mother, brothers and I, went along to help. I was six. Nowadays young children would not be permitted on building sites and, obviously, there were limits to what we could do. So, we carried bricks from one portion of the site to another so that they could be used to construct the building and the carpark.
I don’t recall all that happened, but I do recall carrying what seemed like very heavy bricks. No doubt I was slow. I am sure that sometimes I wanted to play more than I wanted to work. I am confident that I contributed little to that great endeavour. But I look back upon that work with happiness. It helped to bring me to God and His Church - represented not just by bricks and mortar - but more crucially by God’s covenant cause.

Eli looked at the pile of homework his friend had dropped off after school. Eli had missed another week of school because of an ear infection.
That evening Eli’s parents came into his room. His mom sat on the side of Eli’s bed and took his hand. “Eli, the doctor thinks you need an operation,” she said.
“What kind of operation?”
“He wants to put tubes in your ears to keep you from getting more infections,” Mom said. “It won’t hurt, and you’ll be out of the hospital in a day.” She squeezed his hand.
Eli trusted his parents. But the idea of having an operation scared him. He thought about the story he had heard in Primary about Joseph Smith. When Joseph was seven years old, the bone in his leg became infected. The infection got worse until the doctor decided that he must remove part of the bone or Joseph might lose his leg or even die.
In Joseph Smith’s day, doctors gave people liquor to help numb the pain during an operation, but Joseph refused the liquor the doctor suggested he drink. And he refused to be tied to the bed. He said that if his father held him, he wouldn’t move. Joseph’s father held him tightly in his arms throughout the painful surgery. The operation was successful, and Joseph recovered.
Eli thought about Joseph’s courage and faith in his father. “Can I have a blessing, Dad?” he asked. Eli knew a priesthood blessing could help him. At the beginning of the school year, Eli’s father had given him a blessing.
“That’s a great idea,” his father said.
Eli’s mother folded her arms and bowed her head. Eli felt his father’s hands on his head. His father’s voice grew in confidence as he blessed Eli that he would not be scared and that he would recover completely.
When the blessing was over, Eli was no longer afraid. “I can have the operation now,” he said.
Three days later he went to the hospital and returned home the next day. The ear infections soon stopped, and Eli quickly made up the schoolwork he had missed.
Eli was grateful that he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and that he could be blessed through the priesthood.

When Elder D. Todd Christofferson was about 12 years old, his dad decided to run for city council. He asked Todd to help. Todd and his brothers walked around the community handing out flyers and knocking on doors. When someone opened the door, Todd and his brothers gave them a flyer and asked them to vote for their dad, Paul Christofferson.
When Todd handed people flyers, sometimes they would say, “Paul is a good and honest man. I would have no problem voting for him.”
People knew his dad was a good person, and Todd felt proud of his dad.
Todd also knew that his dad wasn’t perfect. No one is perfect. But because of his dad’s example, Todd wanted to be a good man and a good father too when he grew up.

This story took place in England.
Jonah ate his last bite of food and smiled. Dinner was always more fun when the missionaries came over.
“We want to share a message with you about service,” said Sister Kearl. “Why is serving others important?”
“Because it makes Jesus happy!” said Eliza, Jonah’s little sister.
“You’re right! It makes Him very happy. And when we help others, it makes us happy too,” said Sister Christensen. “Do you know anyone who needs help?”
Jonah thought for a minute. “I can’t think of a person, but our garden at school could use some help.”
“Good idea,” said Mum.
Jonah’s school had a garden where they could do outdoor activities. But no one had taken care of the garden for a long time. The bushes were overgrown. There were lots of weeds too.
“We’d love to help you with that!” said Sister Kearl. “Who can we invite to help clean it with us?”
“Our cousins!” said Jacob, Jonah’s brother.
“And our Primary class,” said Jonah.
The next day, Mum talked to someone at the school to get permission. They picked a day to clean the garden. Then Mum helped Jonah and his siblings call their cousins and Primary class.
A few weeks later, Jonah and his family met the missionaries at the school. Their cousins and Primary friends were there too. It was time to get to work!
Jonah put on a pair of big rubber garden gloves. “Look, Mum. My hands are huge!”
Mum laughed. “You can use those huge hands to help trim these bushes.”
She handed Jonah some clippers that looked like giant scissors. Then she helped him cut away the dead branches.
“This is fun,” Jonah said.
While Jonah trimmed, Eliza helped dig around the garden. Jacob helped Daddy build a new bird house. The others pulled weeds and gathered sticks. They put them in big blue plastic bags. Even Jonah’s youngest brother, Ezra, helped by picking up rocks.
Soon the garden was clean. Jonah counted the bags they had filled. “There are 13 bags!” he said. “We cleaned up so much rubbish.”
Sister Christensen smiled. “Now we need everyone’s big muscles to help us carry these to the car.”
Jonah, Jacob, and Eliza each grabbed a bag. Jonah felt happy as he lifted the last one into the car. Helping the missionaries had been fun. He wanted to be a missionary someday too. Until then, there were lots of ways he could serve. He could hardly wait to think of his next project!

When I held an online interview with Darlyn and she turned on her camera, she gave me the biggest smile. It was morning in Singapore, and she had gotten up early to meet with me before getting her three kids to school and herself to work.
Darlyn had always wanted to get a master’s degree, but at 36, she was diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. This upset her plans for further education and her plans for life.
As I listened to her story, I thought that if anyone had a right to be upset with difficult changes, it was Darlyn. But she pointed out the blessings and mercies she’d received and the people who had served her. Darlyn accepted the change of plans with grace. Instead of focusing on what she had lost, she focused on the experiences she had gained. Just as President Russell M. Nelson taught, “The joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives.”1
Ultimately, Darlyn joined BYU–Pathway Worldwide because she wanted to keep her mind healthy. She told me she didn’t hate having cancer—she was grateful it led her to BYU–Pathway and to deepen her relationship with Jesus Christ.
I left that conversation wanting to change my perspective of change. Because Darlyn had put aside resentment and anger about her circumstances, she was able to take control of her life. Instead of challenges and change deterring her progress, they propelled her forward.

President Benson devoted his life to testifying about Jesus Christ and the Book of Mormon. Here are my personal remembrances of President Benson:
First was his ability to sincerely communicate one-on-one directly with each of us who served with him. He would sit at his desk. I would be seated just to his right in a chair facing his large swivel chair. He would sit there with his large from-plowboy-to-prophet hands, our knees almost touching, and look me directly in the eyes with a depth of inner feeling that touched my very soul and tell me what was important for me to know or to do in my life or calling. When I left his office there was no doubt in my mind that I had been instructed by a prophet of the Lord.
Second, President Benson was fearless in the cause of truth and right. He was a living example of the words of the hymn “Do what is right; let the consequence follow” (Hymns, 1985, no. 237). God bless his memory.
On one occasion in Europe I remember kneeling in prayer beside President Benson when we were at the point of selecting a stake president. What a great joy to participate with him in prayer and understand the true order of prayer and what it means to be able to call upon the Lord for revelation.

When I was about 14, I had come to the conclusion that trying a beer once would be perfectly all right. Before I had tried one, however, I had an interview with my bishop to go on a youth temple trip. One of the questions was about experimenting with drugs or alcohol. I was glad I could say no, but the question puzzled me. “Wasn’t experimenting okay?” If that question was important enough to ask in a temple recommend interview, it must not be okay. Since then, I’ve realized if you never take the first you will never take the rest. I am grateful to the Lord and a bishop for guiding me and helping me avoid so much sorrow.
Elder Aaron Ellsworth, 20Washington Seattle Mission

The place was solemn and forgotten as only an old graveyard can be. It was a grotesque, weedy pause between railroad tracks and decaying buildings, a shabby plot where crumbling cherubs tilted above sagging gray monuments. Grass grew high there, and the chiseled epitaphs had disappeared under a slow tide of moss. It was a good place to ignore.
That’s why it didn’t make much sense one morning when a squad of bright-faced young men and women showed up at the rusting gates with hoes and shovels and clippers and mowers, and went to work. Heads appeared in the windows of the surrounding buildings, and the questions flew. Who are they? What are they doing here? What’s in it for them? And the answers didn’t make much sense either. The young people sweating among the tombstones weren’t even from the neighborhood; no one had asked them to come, and they weren’t getting anything out of it. For all anyone knew, they might have been so many ghosts come back to spruce up their own exclusive little subdivision.
And when they left, with the weeds out, the grass mowed, and the monuments standing straight, everyone knew that the neighborhood had become a nicer place to live, but no one knew who the mysterious band of “ghosts” were, and it’s not likely they ever will.
And that suits the young men and women of the Richardson Ward in Dallas, Texas, just fine. They’ve discovered that being doers of the word instead of just hearers isn’t merely a scripture—it’s a beautiful, happy principle of life. It means doing the yard work of widows in the area, helping to maintain the chapel, working on community projects, and even cleaning up an abandoned graveyard—just because they need doing.
Whether cleaning up a graveyard, staging a dance festival, or spreading the truth, they have discovered where happiness is at. It’s at home—wherever you are—if you’re living the gospel.

When the recess bell rang, Grace hurried toward the slide with Samantha.
Chloe came running behind them. “Grace, let’s play zookeeper on the jungle gym.”
“We’re playing on the slide,” Grace said. “Want to come? We can all play together.”
“No, we can’t,” Chloe said. “You have to pick Samantha or me.”
Grace frowned. “But I already told Samantha …”
“Fine!” Chloe said, and she stomped away.
Grace walked with Samantha toward the slide. They heard Chloe’s voice behind them. She was talking to the teacher on recess duty, Mrs. Haskins.
“Grace says she doesn’t want to play with me,” Chloe said.
Grace whirled around. “That’s not what I—”
“Let’s be nice, girls,” Mrs. Haskins said.
So Grace played with Chloe, and Samantha played with someone else.
Grace thought back to the beginning of the year when she met Chloe. They played together almost every day at recess. Now Grace was getting to know the other children in her class. But Chloe got upset when Grace played with someone else. Maybe Grace could hide from Chloe at recess or tell her she didn’t want to be friends anymore. But that wouldn’t be kind.
As Mom drove home from school, Grace sighed.
“That sounds like a sad sigh,” Mom said. “What’s wrong?”
Grace told Mom about Chloe. “Friends shouldn’t be annoying, should they?”
“Do you think Chloe is trying to be annoying?” Mom asked.
“No, I don’t think so,” Grace said.
“Do you think you should tell Chloe she’s annoying?” Mom asked.
Grace pictured herself telling Chloe. She imagined that Chloe’s face would look very sad.
“No,” Grace said. “That doesn’t seem right.”
“Maybe you’ll need to work on not feeling annoyed with Chloe,” Mom said. “That’s a hard thing to do. Maybe you can think of some ideas and we can talk about it again at bedtime.”
That afternoon, Grace sat thinking. She needed some ideas for being patient with Chloe.
Then Grace remembered something. Her teacher, Mrs. Rosario, had shown the class a fun way to think of ideas. Mrs. Rosario called it an idea web.
Grace grabbed a piece of paper and wrote Chloe’s name in the center. Then she circled it and drew four lines coming out of the circle. At the end of each line, Grace wrote one thing she liked about Chloe.
Good imagination
Fun to play with
Loves animals
Fast runner
Grace decided that when she felt annoyed with Chloe, she could think of the reasons she liked Chloe.
At bedtime, Grace showed Mom the paper.
“What a great idea,” Mom said.
“I just thought of something else,” Grace said. “I could give this paper to Chloe at school tomorrow.”
“Another great idea,” Mom said. “I knew you’d think of something.”
At recess the next day, Grace headed outside.
“Chloe!” Grace called. “I have something for you!” Grace handed the paper to Chloe.
“It’s an idea web, isn’t it?” Chloe said.
“Yes,” Grace said. “Those are things I like about you.”
“Thanks,” Chloe said with a smile. “This is so cool.”
Even though the wind was chilly, Grace felt warm and happy as she played with Chloe. When the bell rang, Chloe looked at the paper again.
“I’m going to make an idea web for you,” she said to Grace. “And maybe tomorrow we could show Samantha how to play zookeeper.”
Grace smiled. Tomorrow would be another great day.

It all started with a dream to help critically ill children in London’s Royal Marsden Hospital. With the intent of giving service in a way that could make a real difference, 50 young LDS teens from the Staines England Stake set out on an incredible service project that resulted in what some called a miracle.
They planned and produced an evening of entertainment, the “MGM Spectacular.” The initials stand for Marsden’s Glorious Musical. The miraculous part of the project was the fact that in addition to raising money for the hospital, the LDS teens helped the young patients participate and perform in the production. For many of these children, this theatrical experience was a once-in-a-lifetime event. Sarah Burlinson of the Tunbridge Wells Ward, Kent England Stake, said, “The children really looked happy, and I know that they enjoyed it as well.”
The show was intended as a family event. Besides the LDS youth, the critically ill outpatients and their brothers and sisters performed in song and dance. The LDS teens wanted to offer these children a chance to forget their difficulties for a day and feel the joy of being involved in service. The money raised was used to buy needed equipment for their own hospital. And they threw themselves into the project with energy. Catherine Wittle of the Guilford Ward said, “The sick kids were a great example to us. They were so determined to do well.”
The combination of dedicated LDS youth with enthusiastic children made for a remarkable evening. The project was linked with a charity called Kids Count. The group also received help from London’s Capital Radio.
But the performance was preceded by 18 months of hard work. To earn the money necessary to hire the hall, create the costumes, and print the tickets and programmes, the stake youth held car washes, sponsored hikes and bake sales, and held a summer festival. At times it was discouraging, especially after well-made plans fell through, but then the phrase, “The show must go on,” was heard around the stake.
Everyone understood that the proceeds of this show were to serve an important purpose. “The show was a lot of fun to put together and perform,” said Alison Youngberg of the Addlestone Branch, “but the best part was knowing that we were raising money that would save the children’s lives.”
On the night of the performance, the show was a great success. The near-capacity audience was thoroughly entertained. Standing on stage that evening, Amber Travers of the Kingston Ward said, “When we all sang the closing song on stage, there was a really good feeling, a feeling of total unity and friendliness.”
A cheque for nearly £2000 (about $3,214) was donated. Beth Sepion, representing the hospital, said that the show was the most touching and innovative way she had ever seen to raise money. For the Staines Stake youth, it was a chance to learn how much fun service can be and how great things can come from that which is small.

After completing my degree at BYU-Provo my wife and I moved to Pullman, Washington to pursue a Ph.D. From the first day in my graduate program at WSU, it was obvious that I was the only LDS among both graduate students and faculty. The habits and life style of my colleagues and instructors were not consistent with mine, which led to a confrontation between myself and one of the faculty members. In my graduate program there was a tradition called the "Friday night seminar", where the graduate students and the faculty met in a social setting to visit and "rub shoulders" with each other. It was a time that the students could get to know the faculty more as individuals and visa versa. The seminar would begin on Friday afternoon, after the last class of the week, around 5 p.m. and was held at a local tavern, or bar where alcoholic drinks were served. All graduate students were expected to attend. I didn't. Of course the obvious reason for not attending was my adherence to the word of wisdom. The not so obvious reason was I had been taught by my parents and leaders to "avoid the appearance of sin" in every way.

After the first month or so, one of the professors approached me and after some light conversation he stated, "Steve, I haven't seen you at the Friday night seminars. Why?"

I explained that I was just getting into the program and that I was struggling with the rigor of the graduate courses, which required me to spend a lot of time at school in studies and classes. Each day of the week usually began about 5 a.m. and ended around 10 or 11 p.m. which didn't allow me to see my family very much. On Friday, I would put down my studies at 5 p.m. and go home and be with my family. The faculty member then suggested, "Well, you know that it's real important that you get to know the faculty and that we get to know you. We are here to help you in your studies and we can help you more if we know more about you, and the best place for us to get to know you is at the Friday night seminars."

I expressed my appreciation to this faculty member for his concern and willingness to help me. Then I explained that because of my religion that I didn't drink alcohol and didn't frequent taverns or bars because of the example it might set for my four young children. His response was quick and sharp, ""Well it's just as important that you do attend. If you don't start attending the seminar on Friday night, you can kiss your Ph.D. degree goodbye. I will make sure you do not get your degree here."

I thanked him for his opinion and told him that he had to do what he felt he had to do, but I had to do what I knew was right. I would not be attending the Friday night seminars. To shortened the story, I did not attend the seminars, and through the intervention of the Lord with one miracle after another, I did complete my degree within four years -- almost 1 to 2 years earlier than most of the graduate students. One graduate student that I had become friends with came into my office after the first year and announced that he was going to have to drop out of the program. I asked him why. He stated that he had become an alcoholic, that he had become a slave to alcohol. He said the problem first started with the social drinking of the Friday night seminars, and then the social drinking turned to more frequent drinking until he could not control it. He was not the first to fall to the Goliath of disobedience.

Many years ago, I attended Arizona State University, majoring in Religious Studies. In the midst of our studies, we received a semester-long assignment to draft a lengthy research paper known as an exegesis. We were to take a few words of scripture, sometimes a full verse or more, and study the literary, linguistic, political, cultural, historical, and religious background of the verse, to understand, as best as we can in our day, the author’s intent at the time the verse was written.

I selected for my paper a familiar verse of scripture from the first chapter of Genesis that states: “God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them.” [7] Near the end of the semester, we turned in our lengthy papers. On the day they were handed back the papers were at the front of the lecture hall on a table in a large stack—and returned to us alphabetically. The professor called us up individually, one by one. My name was not called. I remember growing nervous—since my last name begins with the letter “B” I should have been one of the first students called up. I remember nervously wondering, “Where is my paper?” Finally, reaching the last paper on the table, our professor paused, holding it in his hands. He declared, “Now, we have a paper written from a most interesting perspective. We will now invite Mr. Bangerter forward to present and defend his paper during the remaining 40 minutes or so of our class.”

So, perhaps you can understand why I felt my heart pound within me as I stood and then walked down those steps to the front of the auditorium. It was not the presentation of the paper that gave rise to the concern, but the poignant questions I knew would follow. Those questions soon came as I completed my presentation, which as you can imagine, spoke from a theological perspective distinct to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In the moments that followed, I felt the comforting, strengthening, and inspiring influence of God’s Holy Spirit wash over me. That day, in that moment, a calming sense of peace washed over me, filled my mind, calmed my pounding heart, and informed my witness that day. You see, within just a few minutes all questions, consuming the remainder of that class session, focused on our divine origin as children of God and our literal understanding of the doctrine of divine parentage and divine potential. I spoke that day from a position of truth, so the Comforter, whom the Savior promised God would send, [8] did come to me and did, in those moments, comfort my heart and my whole soul and did reveal what it means to know I am a child of God. [9]

Approximately a month after Nancy’s death, there came a night when the grief I felt was absolutely crushing. I had been in very deep pain and sorrow all of that day. I remembered Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles teaching that “the path of salvation has always led … through Gethsemane.”1 Though my suffering can’t be compared to the Savior’s, that night I was in the midst of my own “dark and bitter hours.”2
After experiencing this for some time and praying for help, there came into my mind something that I had read and bookmarked on my computer several years before. I located the document and scrolled down to what I was looking for. It was an interview with Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles (1928–2015) in which he was asked about losing his wife, Jeanene, to cancer in 1995. Elder Scott responded, “First of all, … I didn’t lose her. She’s on the other side of the veil. We’ve been sealed in that holy ordinance of the temple, and we’ll be together forever.”3
That night those words came with a power that I have never felt before. It was like a lighthouse beacon being switched on in a dark night. I have never read something that had such a sudden and profound effect on me. The darkness and the pain were gone. It was like Alma when he could “remember [his] pains no more” (Alma 36:19). This apostolic witness penetrated me to the very core. I marveled that a concept I had understood since childhood could suddenly seem so remarkable. I found myself wondering how it was possible that Elder Scott could know something like this. And in the moment, I realized that I know it too. If I am faithful, I can have all of the hope that Elder Scott had. While there has certainly been sadness and mourning since then, I have never again felt the depths of pain and sorrow that I experienced that night.