Gospel Story Finder

I am a Beehive. Last month, I got my first CD of Church music. I listened to it a lot and downloaded it onto my MP3 player. One day when I got on the bus, there was no place to sit except in the back, right in the middle of the teenagers who say bad things. They were talking so loudly and using such horrible language that I couldn’t block them out. I had a feeling to get out my MP3 player and listen to my church CD. Once I did, the sounds and words around me immediately melted away, and I felt like I was in another place. I concentrated on the lyrics and felt happy. I’m sharing this story so that everyone can know that if you are in situations similar to this, you can listen to music that brings the Spirit, and you’ll feel better.

Let me share with you an experience from my childhood. I was the third of four girls. My mother thought she would never have a little boy. Finally that little boy came, but he was born without life. As a four-year-old I know I didn't fully comprehend the pain my mother felt, but I had my own pain. I didn't get that new little baby brother to play with. I remember wanting to rectify my pain. I had a cute little cardboard paper doll family. I played with that little family and gave them experiences that were dream-like. One night I took the little baby paper doll from that family, wrapped him in his little blue paper bunting, and laid him on my pillow. As I prepared to go to sleep, I prayed to Heavenly Father that He would make that baby come alive during my sleep that night. Well, you know that dream did not come true.

Now I understand a little bit better from my own experience as a mother what my mother went through. I look back and admire her for being a woman of great faith. She worked through her grief and her doubts that she could ever have a baby boy. She looked fear in the face when she had thoughts that if she tried again that baby would die too. She didn't listen to the voices of the world telling her she had done enough or to the voice of the adversary telling her it was wrong to have another child. Struggling through all of that, she went forward with faith and prayed that the next baby would be a boy.

A loving Heavenly Father answered her prayer and the pain gave way to pure joy with the birth of my brother Malcolm. I was six years old when he was born. I held and played with him often. In fact, my mother went on to have three more baby boys! By the time the youngest brother was born, I was thirteen years old and experienced enough to be even more involved. I remember once even taking a turn in the middle of the night to help my mother get some rest.

Now I am a mother and a grandmother. I have four very big boys of my own, and also three beautiful daughters and eighteen grandchildren. Attaining this dream I have had to work through difficult experiences of my own, and I am so grateful for a mother who chose the Lord Jesus Christ and passed on that legacy of faith to me. Truly, the dreams of a little four-year-old girl have come true because of the mercy and grace of the Savior whose invitation to us all is: "Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not."

JOYCE: During Peter's teenage years in Hong Kong, his family had to live frugally. To Peter's family, the good thing about being in poverty was that anything beyond the bare necessities became a luxury. One hot summer day, he stumbled into the only visitor center of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Hong Kong. Lured mostly by the free air-conditioning, but also out of curiosity as to why intelligent-looking young adults would be wasting their time proselyting. He wanted to persuade the Elders to the truthfulness of Buddhism, but at the end, he was the one who got converted instead and found the truth through a sincere and fervent prayer. Peter always says his first testimony was God's answer to his first prayer, but his strongest testimony was God's guidance and blessings in his everyday life since he joined the Church. Life in the Church was a 180 degrees change for Peter. Because of his poor academic background, Peter had to study extra hard to make it through secondary school. His new found faith spurred him on to be resolute in two seemingly impossible goals: obtaining a university education and going on a full-time mission.

I can tell you of the time I first attended church in a new ward as an older single adult—that is, without family around me to help buffer me and to help me fit in. I felt so out of place, so alienated, so unnecessary. I almost felt that attending church was too much to ask. As I sat there, I was blessed with this thought and just enough courage to do it: Get up and bear your testimony. I did, beginning this way: “You’ll probably wonder who this man over here is, so let me tell you a little about myself.” That changed everything, because it changed how I placed myself in relation to the rest of the ward, who, after all, came to church that day not to make me feel conspicuous but to worship and go away greatly instructed. Perhaps my testimony touched someone that day, maybe not. I know it affected me.

One of the reasons we must trust God is that we are presently locked in the dimension of time; he is not. This personal experience may be illustrative.

In May of 1945 as a frightened, not-too-effective young infantryman in the U. S. Army in combat on Okinawa, I had several soul-stretching, faith-promoting experiences, including a dramatic answer to my prayers that came during an artillery shelling of our company’s mortar position. It demonstrated to me, again, that the Lord was cognizant of my prayers. In one of those selfish, honest prayers that we offer when we are in real trouble, I promised the Lord that if he would spare me on that occasion, I would seek to serve him all my life. The prayer was answered at once. I foolishly thought then that I could repay the Lord. Since then I am more deeply in his debt than ever.

On a stopover on Okinawa in 1973, I found the same spot, now overgrown by sugarcane, where my foxhole was during that shelling. Just a few hills away, I was privileged to speak in a chapel full of Okinawan Saints and servicemen—not very far from where I and others spent those grim nights so many years before. Soon there will even be a stake of the Church on Okinawa!

I wonder if I had been told in the spring of 1945 that these things would happen later if my mind and heart could have been so stretched? The Lord foresaw, but I did not.

As an example of one of the ways the baseline has shifted rapidly over the past few years I'll mention a conversation I had with my younger brother. He called me a few months ago to tell me how his boss at a university on the west coast where he worked 6 days a week 12-14 hours a day had become upset with him because he refused to work Sundays and because she had to pay insurance for his 5 young children.

When he tried to explain the spiritual grounds upon which his decisions were based she became even more angry and told him that his family was too big, and that his "family first attitude was selfish. She said, We all have to make sacrifices in this lab. This scientist unfortunately had become blind to the fact that the only worthwhile and lasting sacrifice being made in her lab was the one of this young couple being willing to have children and nurture them.

Martin woke up slowly. His mom was shaking his shoulder.
“Martin,” she said, “it’s time to wake up.”
Martin rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. The sky was still dark, but he knew what time it was. His family woke up at 5:30 every morning to read the Book of Mormon together. It wasn’t always easy to get up so early.
Martin rolled out of bed and walked slowly to the front room. He stretched and yawned really wide. His brothers and sisters looked sleepy too, but they were all there.
Each person read for five minutes. At first Martin wanted to go back to bed. But he kept listening. Each verse seemed to make him feel better and better. By the time they were done reading, Martin felt spiritually strong.
And spiritual strength was something Martin needed every day. In Kenya, there were only a few Church members Martin’s age, and they all lived far away. After school Martin went to a boys’ club run by a Catholic church. One week the club went on a camping trip together.
Martin had a lot of fun. He sang camping songs. He chopped logs. He even helped build a campfire.
But on the second day, one of the leaders brought out a teapot. “We’re going to have tea now,” he said.
The other boys were excited. They drank tea at home for special occasions. They all grabbed their cups and waited for the leader to fill them.
Martin felt a little nervous. He knew that he shouldn’t drink tea. But he didn’t want to offend his friends.
Then he remembered how he felt when he kept the commandments. When his family followed the prophet and read the Book of Mormon together, he felt happy. When they didn’t, he didn’t feel as happy.
Martin knew what he had to do.
“No, thank you,” he told the leader when he came to fill Martin’s cup. “I don’t want to drink tea.”
The leader looked surprised, but he let Martin drink water while the rest of the boys drank tea. Some of the boys wanted to know why Martin didn’t drink tea, but none of them made fun of him. Martin felt happy. He knew the Word of Wisdom would make his body strong. And he was glad that he had been strong enough to do the right thing.

About a month after I joined the Church, I met my wife, Magareth, and one year later we got married. While we were dating, I told her that because I knew Joseph Smith was a prophet, I desired to build our family upon the words and teachings of the prophets. For example, President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) was the prophet at that time, and he counseled Church members to stay out of debt. In close to 29 years of marriage, my wife and I have never paid one penny of interest. Never.

When I was 20 and in the military, I had a friend named Brent. He was four-years-old. His father, Bob, was an Air Force fighter pilot with 120 missions in Vietnam to his credit. Whenever Brent would not behave as his father wished, his dad would say teasingly, “If you keep doing that you will grow up to be a bomber pilot”—the worst possible curse for a fighter pilot’s son!

That encouraged Brent until he was 15. One day his father tried the old line again and Brent responded, “I don’t care! I’ve never wanted to be a pilot of any kind.”

With wisdom, his father added, “Then be who you will be, but be Christlike as you do it.” The fighter pilot father knew something about the process of working toward perfection, of becoming more like Christ. He was a returned missionary. He had married a worthy young woman in the temple. He had served where called in the Church. He was striving to keep the commandments.

Bob’s closest brush with death was while making a bombing run into North Vietnam in 1966. His F-4 Phantom jet, fully loaded to knock out an important enemy bridge, was shot out of the sky by a ground-based cannon. He got the aircraft turned around and did not eject from the cockpit until the last possible moment. That strategy got him ever closer to the friendly borders of Thailand.

On the ground he ran from the enemy soldiers and their dogs for 36 hours until he was rescued by a helicopter gunship. While running back toward Thailand, he prayed that he would see his young bride and baby again. But, if captured, he would try to be like the Savior. His faith would allow him to exercise courage.

It was never easy for any of them. Bob has worked hard in his service as a stake president. Paul has worked diligently to be a good young father. Mom has dealt with many crises in her life. They all have tried to face their obstacles in a Christlike way. Pain, hurt, and dread have been a part of their lives. It was part of Christ’s life, too!

Bob doesn’t fly jets anymore. He is now serving as a mission president. Paul is now a stake missionary. Mom has never danced professionally, though she has used her musical talents on numerous occasions. She is now serving a full-time mission with her husband. Each has lived a good and faithful life.

My friend, the former four-year-old, is a returned missionary, recently married, and now continuing his education. He did not grow up to that “awful curse” of becoming a bomber pilot. He is growing up wanting to become like the Master.

Zamu sped across the yard on his blue bicycle. His two-year-old brother, Zinathi, was right behind him on his red scooter.
“Come on, let’s go again!” Zamu said when they reached the edge of the yard. He turned around and pedaled as fast as he could back to the front. The wind rushed over his face.
“Zamu and Zinathi!” Zamu shouted.
Zinathi laughed. He shouted with Zamu.
“Zamu and Zinathi! Zamu and Zinathi!”
They rode across the yard, back and forth, back and forth, until Zamu’s legs were too tired to pedal anymore.
“Let’s take a break,” Zamu panted.
“Come over here and rest,” Dad called from the trampoline.
Zamu parked his bike and took Zinathi by the hand. He helped his little brother climb onto the trampoline. Then he climbed up and sat beside Dad.
“Were you having fun?” Dad asked.
“Yeah!” Zinathi said.
Zamu lay back on the trampoline with a sigh. The sky above him was bright blue, and the sun felt warm on his skin.
“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Dad said.
Zamu nodded. He closed his eyes and listened to the birds sing while Dad talked to Zinathi. He was getting sleepy.
“Zamu.”
He opened his eyes. Zinathi was leaning over his face.
“What?” Zamu asked.
“Let’s go!” Zinathi pointed to his scooter.
“Not now. I’m resting.”
Zinathi’s mouth slipped into a frown.
“Sorry,” Zamu said. “I’m too tired.”
Zinathi tugged at Zamu’s arm. “Come on!”
“No! I already played with you!”
“Zamu,” Dad said.
Zamu looked over at him.
“One day, when he’s older, Zinathi will remember how you used to play together. The memories you make now will live in his heart.”
Zamu looked back into his little brother’s big brown eyes.
“Please?” Zinathi asked.
Zamu still didn’t feel like playing. But he did want to make memories with Zinathi.
He smiled. “OK.”
Zinathi’s face lit up. “Yay!”
Zamu hopped down from the trampoline and helped Zinathi get back on his scooter. Then he swung his leg over his own bike.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yeah!”
Together they rode across the yard. “Zamu and Zinathi!” they shouted again.
Zamu was still tired, but it was a good kind of tired. His legs felt strong as he pedaled behind Zinathi. I hope Zinathi will remember this, he thought. I’ll remember it forever.

As a young Honolulu teenager, my mother, Jean Char Gong, met missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, recognized gospel truth, and was baptized, the only member of her family to join at the time.
She later married in the temple, raised and nurtured three children, 11 grandchildren, and now 11 great-grandchildren. She has served faithfully in Church callings, including arranging flowers for the chapel and typing patriarchal blessings for her husband, who served many years as a patriarch.
My mother’s lifelong faith, hope, and charity make her a pioneer in our now four-generation gospel family. She has walked with faith in every footstep throughout her life.

A third example of the way the Lord is preparing the way for the opening up of nations is one that started in 1955 and is being fulfilled even today. I suggest you would find few Old or New Testament prophecies that have unfolded in a more dramatic or timely way than this modern-day prophecy made in 1955 by President David O. McKay during the dedicatory prayer at the groundbreaking ceremony for the establishment of the Church College of Hawaii on February 12, 1956:

We dedicate our actions in this service unto thee and unto thy glory and to the salvation of the children of men, that this college, and the temple, and the town of Laie may become a missionary factor, influencing not thousands, not tens of thousands, but millions of people who will come seeking to know what this town and its significance are. [In Reuben D. Law, The Founding and Early Development of the Church College of Hawaii (St. George, Utah: Dixie College Press, 1972), 69]

To understand the significance and importance of this prophecy, we must study it in its time frame of 1955. First, the Church could hardly be referred to as an international entity in 1955 as there were only 1,197 members in Mexico, 3,679 members in all of South America, 367 members in Central America, 392 along the whole Asian Rim, and a total of only 82,000 members of the Church outside the United States, Mexico, and Canada (source: Church Statistical Department).

Second, although Hawaii was beginning to be recognized as an attractive tourist destination, only approximately 100,000 tourists came to Hawaii in 1955, and most of them from mainland USA. Third, the north shore of Oahu was not considered a must-see part of the island of Oahu by either residents or tourists. The temple was just a get-out-and-stretch stop for the occasional circle island tour. And fourth, the Polynesian Cultural Center had not even been conceived of in 1955.

This then was the setting when a stately, white-haired prophet stood in the middle of a sugarcane field in the least-visited part of the island and prophesied that the college, the temple, and the community would be missionary factors in influencing millions of people. I can imagine that even the most faithful follower and admirer of President David O. McKay must have wondered if he or she had heard the prophet correctly. Satan himself must have even had a few chuckles over it. “Millions of people coming to Laie? You’ve got to be kidding!” Nevertheless, the campus of what is now BYU—Hawaii was built and opened its doors to 150 students. Eight years later, in 1963, with little pomp and ceremony, but with a great deal of laughter and predictions of its total failure from the Waikiki entertainment community, the Polynesian Cultural Center opened its doors.

The PCC had a small and humble beginning with students occasionally standing along Kamehameha Highway flagging down the occasional circle island tourists and inviting them to visit the PCC. There were times during those first few years when the performers played to no more than 20 to 30 individuals.

As a member of the board of directors of the Polynesian Cultural Center, I attended our midyear board meeting just eight days ago in Hawaii and was informed that attendance at the PCC over the past 37 years has just exceeded 27 million guests from every corner of the world. Approximately one-third of those who have visited the Polynesian Cultural Center have also visited the temple visitors’ center just a few blocks away. Amazingly, little Laie has become a destination for people worldwide, and the center has been the number-one paid tourist attraction in Hawaii since the mid-1970s.

Were he not a prophet, how could President McKay have possibly known in 1955 what we would be experiencing today?

However, there is another side of this wonderful story that may, in time, eclipse even the importance of the large number of people from around the world who attend the Polynesian Cultural Center on a daily basis. When I was appointed president of BYU—Hawaii in 1986, a cooperative Asian Executive Management Internship Program had just begun between PCC/BYU—Hawaii and several mainland China government agencies. The internship arrangement allows for eight to 10 midlevel government officials to spend one year studying at BYU—Hawaii and interning at the Polynesian Cultural Center.

These individuals live on campus in residence halls with regular BYU—Hawaii students. At the end of the year they are given certificates of achievement in the various academic disciplines and professional activities at the Polynesian Cultural Center.

Over the past 15 years, approximately 135 of these mature Chinese individuals have gone through this program and returned to full-time employment in the government and business agencies from which they came. On two occasions since the inception of the program, Sister Wade and I were hosted by these agencies in China. During these visits we met with the supervisors and employers to assess the program and to recommend any changes or improvements that should be considered. Over a period of two weeks we met with approximately 50 of the former interns in four major cities in mainland China.

The reception we received from the former interns, their supervisors, and the government officials was overwhelming. To those who had gone through the program, we were like long-lost friends, even family. They simply could not contain their emotions and wanted to spend most of our time together hearing about BYU—Hawaii, PCC, Laie, and all of the friends they had left behind. In every case, upon completion of the internship and their return to China, they had been advanced to positions above those they had previously held.

During their time on campus, each individual registered for and completed a Book of Mormon course and, in many cases, attended church on a regular basis. Some joined the Church knowing full well when they returned to China there would be no LDS Church unit with which they could affiliate. However, they also understood that in the Lord’s due time, they will have an important and prominent role to play in spreading the message of the restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ, providing leadership and making friends for the Church. Even those who did not embrace the gospel expressed over and over again to us their admiration for the Church and the principles upon which it is founded. I am sure each one of them will be willing to speak in our defense if needed and when appropriate.

“You wouldn’t think it was funny if you had to dance with him,” said Lisa in a cross voice.
“I’m sorry, Lisa,” said Stephanie, smothering one last chuckle, “but I couldn’t help laughing because there was a time when I thought you had two left feet. Remember when we were learning to clog after third grade a couple of years ago?”
“Oh, yes,” said Lisa, thinking back. “Was I really that bad?” She thought some more, then admitted, “I guess I was before Tammy took over. She walked me through every step of that dance until I had it just right.”
“And now old Two-Left-Feet Lisa can dance,” said Stephanie with a friendly grin.

The loving example of Ghanaian members has a powerful effect on their friends and families.
Phillip Ohene, now serving as clerk of the Koforidua Second Branch, says his LDS employer “talked to me about the Church through his actions. He would tell me the thing, and I would see him doing it himself.” This example helped Phillip decide to investigate the gospel. In shaping people’s attitudes about the Church, he says, “What they hear is not so important. It is what they see.”

Krishna Carpenter was selected as a member of the NJCAA All-American volleyball team. Kris, who plays on the Ricks College team, was surprised and pleased by the selection. The Ricks volleyball team captured both the district and regional championships. They went on to place sixth in national competition. Kris received all-conference and all-regional honors, but the highlight was being named to the first team All-American squad. She was one of only eight to be so honored in the nation.
Kris, originally from Burley, Idaho, participated in both basketball and volleyball in high school. But when she started her freshman year at Ricks, she concentrated on volleyball and has been very successful.
Kris has been encouraged in athletics by her older brothers, and her younger sister may be following in her footsteps. Kris enjoys tutoring special education students and plans to make that her major in college.

Twenty-four years ago this next October, I received a long-distance telephone call at our home in Chicago. The caller in Salt Lake City asked if I planned to attend general conference, which convened the next morning. To this I answered, “No,” whereupon he asked if I could. I responded, “I suppose I can if you want me to.” The caller said, “The President of the Church would like to see you tomorrow morning at 8:00 in his office. Now have a good night’s sleep because it will be your last.” After some twenty-four years, it looks as though I may get that good night’s sleep—perhaps.
These years have been the most challenging and rewarding years of my life. I have had the indescribable blessing of being tutored every week, with few exceptions, by four Presidents of the Church and eight different Counselors in the First Presidency, and of course, for eleven years of that time, by a wonderful Presiding Bishop, John H. Vandenberg. It was a great blessing to serve with Elder Robert L. Simpson as Counselors to Bishop Vandenberg. Words cannot adequately express my love and my appreciation for my own faithful Counselors, Elder Vaughn J. Featherstone, Bishop H. Burke Peterson, and Bishop J. Richard Clarke, for their loyalty to me personally, and for their outstanding contribution to the Church during these thirteen years. We’ve been abundantly blessed by men and women of great faith and commitment—both here at home and from all over the world—who joined with us in response to the assignment from the First Presidency to accomplish the temporal work of the kingdom in these latter days. I express my heartfelt appreciation and gratitude to all, wherever they may be, and thank them for the blessing of being associated with them.

Stephanie’s mother first learned about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and invited her family to learn with her. Soon Stephanie’s father; mother; and oldest sister, Stella, were baptized. Each Sunday her family arrived early at the senior missionaries’ home where church was held to help set up for the meeting. Thanks to the growth of the Church in Delhi, the branch now meets in its own building.

I was raised in a place where the Church was not well known—a town now called Berkh, in northern Mongolia. I am the middle child of three boys, and growing up, we were together all the time. When my older brother went to the city to go to school, I missed him a lot. Two years later he came home for his summer vacation. That summer our family went hunting for three months in the rocky hills. It was one of the best summer vacations of my life.
My brother started telling me about a church he had joined called The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. At that time I didn’t like Christian churches, so I didn’t pay much attention to what he was telling me.
One autumn day we arrived home from hunting to discover some visitors from the city. They were from the Church that my brother had been talking about. He returned to the city with them that night. Later we heard why he had left: he had received a mission call. He hadn’t even told us he had sent in his application! My older brother left for his mission to the United States of America soon after.
The next year, when I finished high school, I went to the city to attend a university. The family I stayed with turned out to be members of the Church. On Sunday morning they invited me to come to church with them. Since I’d heard a lot about this Church, I decided that I would try going once.
I ended up attending church many times. I couldn’t help but feel peaceful every time I was there. People there were nice, always shaking hands with me. The Church was different from what I had thought. Soon I started taking discussions from the missionaries. I met with the missionaries for almost two years.
I knew I wanted to be baptized, but my baptism had to be postponed because of my struggles with the Word of Wisdom. It was difficult for me, but eventually I was ready for baptism. I was fortunate to be baptized by my older brother, who had returned from his mission only months earlier. When I remember that moment now, I cry sometimes. It was the happiest moment of my life.
After I joined the Church, my brother talked about missionary work almost every day. He always encouraged me to go on a mission. With his help, I filled out my mission application. I will never forget how happy my older brother and I were then.
One evening my brother called me to come and meet with him after work. He wanted to talk with me about some things relating to my mission. We set a time to meet at the central square.
Around this time parliamentary elections were happening in Mongolia. When we met at the central square, citizens were holding a demonstration because of the election. Police were there, but the demonstration was getting violent and scary, escalating into a riot. A big building and several cars were on fire, and people were screaming. It was frightening.
My brother and I had met far away from the demonstration, but he was worried. He gave me money for a taxi and told me to go straight home. He told me that I would see him the next day. He planned to go back to his home, which was close to where he worked. The taxi arrived, and we said a quick good-bye before I drove away.
I soon found out that the government had closed all the roads because of the rioting. Unable to get to my home, which was in the outskirts of the city, I spent the night at work instead. Armored cars and armed soldiers were everywhere. The fighting worsened, and that night a state of emergency was called. It lasted for four days.
When the state of emergency ended, my brother-in-law came to pick me up. We got to his home to find all our relatives waiting there. They were all crying. I learned that my older brother had been shot as he was walking home.
My heart felt like it was going to burst. My brother died when he was 24 because of that demonstration. The days following my brother’s death were among the most horrible of my life.
It was during this difficult time that I received my mission call. After having been through my conversion, baptism, and mission paper preparation with my brother, I was left to open my mission call alone. To my surprise, I was called to serve in my own country.
Since I was alone, I knelt down right there and thanked my Heavenly Father in prayer. And I prayed for my brother. I cried and cried while I prayed. At this time, when there was so much hurt and loneliness in my heart, I felt the Spirit witness of the plan of salvation more deeply to me, and my faith was strengthened.
Left to right: Amarsanaa and his brothers, Dorjsuren and Amarsaikhan
Even though my brother was not there to open my mission call with me, I will always be grateful to him. I am also very grateful that God has given us the plan of salvation through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. It is the most amazing plan. If we follow this plan, we will feel peace in our hearts.
The scriptures tell us: “O how great the plan of our God! For … the paradise of God must deliver up the spirits of the righteous, and the grave deliver up the body of the righteous; and the spirit and the body is restored to itself again, and all men become incorruptible, and immortal, and they are living souls” (2 Nephi 9:13).
I know that my brother is alive in the spirit world. This knowledge gives me the confidence I need to do well on my mission. I know he will be with me during the difficult times—and so will the Lord.

A few years ago, a Church friend approached me as his priesthood leader and confessed a serious sin. This had lasted many years and was cloaked with all the lies he had made to me and to many other priesthood leaders. I first experienced an overwhelming feeling of despair, probably focusing too much on his betrayal of trust. But my heart was softened the following Sunday as I was seated on the stand during the Sacrament ordinance and was prompted to read the three parables in Luke chapter 15, which expand on the joy Heavenly Father feels for a soul who is repenting. How could I be upset or feel despair about my friend while the Lord Himself certainly feels joy just as the father of the prodigal son? I was gently reminded that “of [me] it is required to forgive all men.”6 This insight humbled me and as I started to forgive, an indescribable feeling of peace and gratitude enveloped my whole body.

As a teenager, Linda Kjar Burton had a sudden realization during a Church meeting in Christchurch, New Zealand. “I knew the gospel was true,” she recalled. “I was also aware I had always known.” That testimony will now sustain her as she serves as Relief Society general president.

Born in Salt Lake City, Utah, USA, to Marjorie C. and Morris A. Kjar, Sister Burton was 13 years old when her family left Utah so her father could preside over the New Zealand South Mission. Sister Burton—the second of six children—attended the Church College of New Zealand and associated with Latter-day Saint teens from across the Pacific. She returned to Salt Lake City with not only a love for varied cultures and traditions but especially for the Lord and for her family.

Sister Burton was attending the University of Utah when she met and married Craig P. Burton in August 1973 in the Salt Lake Temple. The couple decided not to delay starting a family; the first of their six children was born almost a year later.

Working together with her husband, she was able to stay home with the children while he made a career in real estate. Early financial challenges taught the couple to look to the future with confidence “because we knew we had done something hard with the help of the Lord,” she explained.

The family took simple vacations and enjoyed being together. Sister Burton served in Young Women, Primary, and Sunday School and on the Primary and Relief Society general boards. She served together with her husband as he presided over the Korea Seoul West Mission from 2007 to 2010. In the mission field, Sister Burton realized—just as she had years earlier in New Zealand—that love transcends language and culture.

She hopes in her new assignment that something she learned from a friend in Korea will apply again: “They will feel your love.”