Gospel Story Finder

I am grateful to Kristie for her introduction. I recognized her goodness and her loving heart within the first few minutes after I picked her up for our first date and began to get to know her. After we dated for a couple of months, she left to come here to BYU–Hawaii to attend school. It didn’t take me very long after she left before I realized that if I wanted any chance of being with her forever, I needed to take some action. In addition to the countless emails and phone calls, I recruited my brother and my auntie to come to Hawaii with me to visit Kristie, and then later that same semester I came again with her family for Thanksgiving.
It was on that second trip that we got engaged and I somehow convinced her to leave this place which she had grown to love, and to come back to Utah where we were married. We have been married now for more than 22 years, and she is my best friend. A constant source of strength and encouragement to me and to our family.

I had the special honor and privilege of being the last person called as a General Authority by President David O. McKay before his death. As I visited with him in his apartment, I found him to be advanced in years and a very weak man in physical strength: his body was frail, his voice was soft, and words did not come easily. I sat quietly, waiting for President McKay to advise me as to the purpose of the appointment. Finally, in a still voice of perfect mildness, he said, “I want you to help me.” That was my invitation, that was my call to be a General Authority. That was one of my unforgettable quiet experiences with President David O. McKay.

After leaving his apartment, I felt that I had a better understanding about the Savior’s calling of his associates. Whether it be on the shores of Galilee or in the market place or paths of life, I’m certain that his invitation could have been nothing more that “I want you to help me in proclaiming the gospel and being special witnesses for me.” This experience more than twenty years ago brought to me a closeness to President McKay, a man I had loved, admired, and respected over the years.

I will always be grateful to him because he quietly called me, expected me, and wanted me to perform special service with him. I left my occupation and former business activities and responsibilities to help him as a prophet. I tremble today in remembering the called me with a whisper that pierced my soul.

Brother Connell was a recent convert to the Church and was called to be the teachers quorum adviser. I was fourteen and a new member of the quorum. I was called as the president, even though I was having a great deal of trouble learning to control my temper.
The young men of the ward went on a cave exploration trip to a cave in Indiana, about two hundred miles from home. This trip was taken in the cool of October. I became very angry over a situation and said I was going to walk home. I started out on my long journey. After I had walked a short distance, all the cars in our party went past me and did not even slow down. My jaw dropped and I thought, “Oh, no, they’re leaving me.” Then I turned around and saw Brother Connell following me. I felt ashamed and embarrassed. I stopped and waited for him to catch up. He told me he would not let me walk home alone and would join me. We walked for about five miles. Brother Connell helped me understand my feelings and straighten them out. By prior arrangement, one of the cars returned and picked us up. This was the beginning of a great friendship between Brother Connell and me. During the time that Brother Connell was my adviser, he helped me to control my temper and use my energy in constructive ways. He had me come and help him put a new roof on his house. He has had me babysit his children. Brother Connell has helped me learn more about the gospel and how to care about other people.

Will you pardon me if I tell you about my father? When he was about the age that I am now, he was fully retired. But he was active. He lived in a rather simple but comfortable home in a rural area. He had an orchard around him and enjoyed giving away the fruit. The yard of his home included lawns and shrubs and trees. It had a rock wall about two feet high separating one level from another. Whenever the weather was good he would sit on the wall, an old hat on his head to shade his eyes from the summer sun. When we went to visit him I would sit beside him. With a little prompting he would talk of his life—of the time when as a boy he lived in Cove Fort. He would smile as he told of the time that his brother found a loaded pistol in the telegrapher’s office. The boys began fooling around, the pistol fired, and his brother shot my father in the leg.

His father sent to Beaver for the doctor. The doctor arrived hours later and tried to remove the ball with a darning needle. He only made the pain worse. Father, sitting on his wall, would lift his pant leg, feel the flesh of his leg, and say that the ball was still there.

The family moved from Cove Fort to Fillmore, and when Father was in his late teens he came here to Provo and enrolled in the Brigham Young Academy. He was a student of Karl G. Maeser, whom he came to know well. From here he went East to school. He then came back and taught here until the First Presidency of the Church asked him to move to Salt Lake City and preside over the business college, for which the Church had great plans.

He was an educator. He was a successful businessman. He presided over the largest stake in the Church, with more than 15,000 members. He served as a mission president and in many other capacities. And now he was retired, and he sat on his wall. He was a great reader with a wonderful library. He was an excellent speaker and writer. Almost to the time he died, just short of the age of 94, he read and wrote and contemplated the knowledge that had come to him.

I discovered that when he sat on the wall, hours at a time on a warm day, he would reflect on the things he had read from his library.

I think he grew old gracefully and wonderfully. He had his books with the precious treasures they contained of the thoughts of great men and women of all the ages of time. He never ceased to learn. As he sat on the wall he thought deeply of what he had read the night before. He acquired the habit as a student here under Dr. Maeser. It was part of his BYU experience.

At times I almost envy him: time to read and time to ponder. What a blessing. He reminded me of leaves on the trees. When autumn comes with killing frost, the leaves change their color, and they give off a new beauty until they eventually drop to form a carpet on the ground.

Now, you are young, and why am I telling you of an old man and the wall on which he sat? I am telling you because I think it has a lesson for each of us. We must never cease to learn. We believe in eternal progression and that this life is a part of eternity to be profitably lived until the very end.

Darkness had already fallen for several hours when I pulled into the town where missionary Sisters Hucks and Matson were serving. It was late in the day, but I thought I should stop to say hello since I had to leave early the next morning. The lights in their apartment were on so I guessed correctly that they were there. I was greeted with enthusiasm, and they started our conversation with, “Guess what happened with us tonight, president.”
“Tell me, what happened?”
“Well, the ward mission leader has been behaving mysteriously all week. He never asked us—he told us to be at a meeting at the church tonight. We were almost angry at him, and we wondered what was happening. When we got to the church there were a few cars parked outside but no one was in sight.
“We went into the church and could see lights on and hear voices in one of the rooms down the hall. We walked down there and knocked on the door.
“Everything went quiet, and then the door opened wide.
“To our surprise the room was filled with people, and on the front row looking right at us with radiant smiles was the family we had been teaching. They were all dressed in white baptismal clothes.” Unable to speak further, the sisters smiled at me through their tears.

Recently I was invited to sit in on a graduate class elsewhere—a group most critical and equipped with jaw-breaking terminology and bone-breaking arguments against religion. At one point I said, “So I’ll know where you’re coming from, would each person here consider: If you had only one question to address to Jesus Christ, what would you ask him?” Well, most of those in the room had a grievance and said that they would ask a kind of “pick-a-fight” question. But one lad, in the corner, didn’t respond, and, having been urged, finally said with a thoughtful smile, “Well, if I had only one question, I would ask, ‘How am I doing?’”

Samantha Mellors was saddened, along with her classmates, when a popular teacher at her school died of cancer. Many of the students were deeply affected by the death of their teacher. Even grief counseling didn’t seem to help. So a school adviser asked Samantha, a Mia Maid in the Penrith Ward, Sydney Australia Hebersham Stake, to share her beliefs about life after death with small groups of students.
“Some of the questions that were asked were really hard to answer, but after some thought I was able to answer the questions with ease. A number of girls came up to me after the discussions and told me how happy they were to know they could see other family members and our teacher again,” says Samantha.

I vividly recall a couple who came for counsel. She was in the final stages of divorce, and he was bitter with resentment. Gone were the flowering petals of love that had given such meaning and purpose to their courtship. Shattered was the trust that once served as a sacred bond to draw them together. The ugly entanglement of selfishness was strangling what was left of the few remaining feelings of mutual respect. I listened privately to one and then the other. Their story was all too familiar. “I love her, but do not want to be trampled upon.” “I’m grateful for what he does, but if I show the least gratitude, he thinks all our differences are resolved, and I am submerged again.”
Their problems were further complicated by economic pressures. Yet, as I listened to each separately, I could see that the means they tenaciously held individually, if shared selflessly, could have solved their financial difficulties. I could see in each admirable characteristics. There was a sincere testimony of truth, a desire to do right, and an anxiety to feel at peace with the Lord for the decisions about to be taken.
He had honestly tried to show love and affection and had done much to help her, but in every case these righteous gestures were destroyed by simultaneously expressed feelings of concern for self. In his own words, “I do not want her to take advantage of me.” She restrained the honest feelings of gratitude in her heart for his help with the children and home and said nothing. They had not the courage, nor the vision, to build one another.
Two individuals trapped in the cross fire of intense feelings rarely can think clearly or be properly motivated. They need help, and the best source of help is the Savior. Oh, how I pray they will use the principles we discussed to reach out, to lift, to build, to edify, and to forgive one another.

We six Brazilian missionaries had just landed in Argentina and were awaiting flights to our missions. As soon as we entered the waiting area for our departing flights, we wanted to take photographs of the airport runway with the city in the distance. While the other five went to take pictures, I stayed nearby watching our luggage.
After they returned, I looked around and saw a place from which I wished to take a picture. “I’ll be right back,” I told the others.
After I had taken the picture, I heard someone call, “Elder.” I quickly looked around but did not see anyone. Then the call came a second time: “Elder.”
When I looked around again, I saw an old man seated on a nearby bench. When I approached him, he said, “Elder, I would like to receive a priesthood blessing for the sick.”
His request startled me. A man I had never met had asked me for a blessing on my first day in a country where I could hardly speak the language.
In fumbling Spanish, I asked him several questions: “Do you have faith? Do you believe in the power of the priesthood? Do you know The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints?”
Somewhat confused by my questions, he responded, “I am a member of the Church, Elder. I am from Salta, in the north. I am alone, I am ill, and I need a blessing.”
I went to get the other missionaries. We introduced ourselves and visited with the man for a minute. Then my companion and I took him to the restroom, where we gave him a blessing.
On that occasion, I had no time to think much about what the man had said to me other than that he needed a blessing. But later, his words “I am alone” deeply touched my heart. He felt alone, but he had a Heavenly Father who knew where he was and that he was ill. Rather than forsake him, Heavenly Father sent missionaries to comfort him, give him a blessing, and remind him that he was not alone.
That experience strengthened my testimony that we have a Heavenly Father who knows us and will never forsake us.

Mix lots of strips of newspaper, lots of young women, a well-written script, missionary-minded enthusiasm, and what have you got? The Freeport Ward, Pittsburgh East Stake’s Young Women community service project.
They used papier-mache-masked players in a program introducing the concept of family home evening to local parent/teacher groups as a free public service. It was a major project, which included handouts with family home evening ideas and brochures on marriage and communication. “It felt good teaching nonmembers gospel principles that could strengthen their families,” said one of the girls who participated. Everyone involved, both spectators and cast members, learned from the experience.

A few years ago, my wife and I were struggling with one of our young single adult children. A long series of events had left us emotionally drained. I regrettably remember saying, “I’m over it. I’m turning off the ‘I care’ switch.” For a few days, I felt better, detached, less stressed, and I thought I had found peace.

But then came Sunday.

I had recently read Elder Peter F. Meurs’s 2016 general conference talk, “The Sacrament Can Help Us Become Holy.” He offered five ways to deepen our worship:
Prepare in advance
Arrive early
Sing and learn from the sacrament hymn
Participate in the prayers
Remember Jesus as the emblems are passed

I tried to apply those teachings, but my heart was still heavy. Then came the opportunity to learn from the sacrament hymn. Verse 2 pierced my heart:
As now our minds review the past,
We know we must repent;
The way to thee is righteousness—
The way thy life was spent.
Forgiveness is a gift from thee
We seek with pure intent.

Immediately my heart turned not just to the Saviour but to my child. The Spirit whispered to me, “Call him and tell him you are sorry. Let him know you love him.”

After the meeting, I messaged: “I’m going to call you this afternoon, I need to talk. Please answer. I promise I won’t hassle you.”

I called and said, “I love you, Son. Please forgive me.” There was a period of silence, then his voice: “Aw, is that it? All good, I love you too. I’m sorry. How was your day?”

That moment was sacred. It was healing. It was the Saviour’s balm, and it came because I tried, however imperfectly, to build on the rock.

4. Another element that leads to success and happiness is to discover early in life that those things of most importance in life you cannot buy for money. They are priceless. To illustrate, let me tell you about an elder from Austria whom I met at the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah.

I noticed that he seemed to be a little older than the average elder. He and his mother had joined the Church when he was sixteen. His father, who was a successful banker, was not interested in religion, but he did not care if his wife and son joined the Church.

This elder’s problems began occurring, however, when he would be studying his seminary materials. He would have his scriptures and papers out on his desk, and his father would come in and say something like: “Don’t waste your time studying those things. Get back into your regular school studies so that you can be admitted to the university.” At times, his father would become so upset he would pick up his son’s scriptures or papers and throw them across the room.

At age eighteen, this young man began thinking more about a mission. In fact, one night he even dreamed that he had been called on a mission to Japan. It was such a warm and good feeling; but when he talked to his parents about it, his father said, “Oh no. You are not going to waste two years of your life in the mission field. You must go to the university.” The father wanted the son to become a banker and follow in his footsteps.

Realizing that he had better do what his father wished at that point, he chose to go to the university. I am not sure he made his father totally happy because he chose to come to the United States and enroll at Brigham Young University. He went through his program in business, received his bachelor’s degree, and then received a master of business administration degree. He was soon hired as a junior executive in an international banking firm in Munich, Germany.

By this time he was twenty-five years old, obviously old enough to make his own decisions. He still had a great desire to serve a mission. He went to his stake president and informed him of his desires. He even told him of his dream. The stake president laughed and said, “Well, I don’t think you will be called to Japan. Nobody is called to Japan from here. They may be called to other countries in Europe, but not to Japan.”

His father was very upset when he learned his son was thinking of leaving his position at the bank for two years. He came over from Vienna and did everything he could to convince his son not to go. His boss flew down from Frankfurt, Germany, and spent time with him, attempting to convince him that he should not leave his work for two years.

“My boy,” he said, “do you realize what this will cost you professionally in terms of salary loss as well as opportunity loss? Sit down and calculate what these two years will cost you.” The young elder did, and found that the mission would cost him a great sum of money.

But tears came to his eyes when he told me, “If it would have cost several times that amount, I would still be here, because I know this is where the Lord wants me to be.”

Well, he was called to Japan. He served a very successful mission, and I suppose there are many international banking firms that would be pleased to hire a well-trained junior executive who speaks German, English, and Japanese—the three major languages of the economic free world. But even if he didn’t earn any extra money as the result of this additional experience, it still would have been worth it. If you want to be happy and successful, you will come to a realization that there are some values in life you cannot purchase with money.

A true story from the Philippines.
Chim opened his sleepy eyes. It was finally the weekend!
“Time to wake up, or we’ll be late,” Mom called.
Chim wished he could sleep longer, but today was market day. He needed to help Mom buy food for the week. So he got up and quickly ate his breakfast.
Mom did a lot for Chim and his two brothers. She was very busy working, and she didn’t have much time to be at home. Chim and his brothers worked together to do most of the chores. Chim was happy to help.
When Chim and Mom got back from the market, Mom had to leave for work. While she was gone, Chim and his brothers got ready for Sunday. Chim set out the shoes, pants, and shirt he would wear to church tomorrow. His older brother, Robin, helped him iron his shirt. Then they made dinner.
Chim was cleaning up the kitchen when Mom came home. She looked really tired.
“Here you go, Mom.” Chim handed her a bowl of hot food to eat.
Mom smiled. “Thanks for your help today. This looks delicious!”
The next morning, Chim woke up early and got ready for church. He was excited to see his friends in Primary and learn about Jesus Christ.
“Mom?” he called quietly, knocking on her door. “Are you coming with us to church today?”
“I can’t,” Mom said. “I have to work this afternoon.”
“OK.” Chim felt a little sad. It had been almost a year since Mom came to church with them. “Drive safe and have a good day,” he told her.
“Ready to go?” his little brother, Mattew, asked.
“Yes!” Chim put on his shoes and ran out the door with his brothers to catch the bus.
Chim felt happy when he walked into the church building. He tried to think about Jesus Christ during the sacrament. And in Primary, he tried extra hard to listen to Sister Ortega’s lesson.
“Today we are learning about the Holy Ghost,” said Sister Ortega. “The Holy Ghost brings us messages from Heavenly Father. Kind of like a radio.”
Chim looked at the picture of a radio Sister Ortega was holding up.
“A radio works by receiving a signal and turning it into sound waves we can hear,” she explained. “You have to set it to the right channel to hear it. To hear the Holy Ghost, we need to set our hearts and minds to the right channel too. How can we do that?”
Everyone was thinking. Then Chim said, “By following Jesus Christ and keeping the commandments.”
Sister Ortega smiled. “That’s right.”
After church, Chim helped make dinner again. He felt warm inside as he helped. He knew that by serving his family, he was setting his heart to the right channel to feel the Holy Ghost.
When Mom got home, Chim gave her a big hug. Then they prayed over the food and started to eat.
“Guess what I learned at church today,” Chim said. He liked to tell Mom about Primary.
“What?” Mom asked.
“We learned about the Holy Ghost,” said Chim. “It’s like a radio. When we keep the commandments, we can turn our hearts to the right channel to hear Him.”
Mom nodded. “That’s great. So what’s an example of keeping the commandments?”
Chim smiled. “Help your mom!” He laughed. “I love you, Mom.”
Illustrations by Uran Duo

I started going to church with some friends in our neighborhood. But then we moved and I stopped going.
In my new school I signed up for seminary. I began reading the scriptures daily. One night it hit me just how much my life needed changing. I had been learning about the gospel, but I hadn’t been living it. I was still hanging out with people who made it difficult to live righteously. I knew I had to get serious about changing my life. The next day I went and talked to Brother Porter, my seminary teacher. He told me when and where my ward met.
The next Sunday I went to church but sat down in the back of the chapel. It took a while to make friends because of my reputation, but I kept going each week because I knew that was where I was supposed to be. For my 15th birthday, my other grandma gave me a gift certificate for a haircut and some new clothes. A few days later I was ordained a teacher.

For the past three years I have been very active in the different sports and programs in high school. Last year I lettered in swimming, so for Christmas I asked my parents for a letterman’s jacket. They took me and my brother to go pick out the patches we wanted on our jackets to represent our high school years.
While looking at all the patches, I noticed a CTR patch and pointed it out to my mom. She was surprised that there was even that option. I picked out a swimmer, basketball hoop with my number, dance shoes, and the CTR patch, all of these representing my life in high school. The CTR patch would represent the four years of waking up to attend early morning seminary.
As time went on there was not a day when I went without wearing my jacket to school. In seminary, my teacher, Sister Sawtelle, was impressed with it and told me she had never seen a CTR patch out of all the athletic kids to pass through her class with jackets in nine years. As I wore it around campus, my friends stopped me and asked about my different patches. I received many raised eyebrows because I wanted something Church-related on my jacket. I was teased, but there were also good comments.
One friend stopped me on the way to class and asked me the meaning of the three letters. I told her it means “Choose the Right and Return to Christ.” She smiled and replied that she loved the fact that it was reversible and said she was proud of me for standing up for what I believe in.
When speaking with the missionaries about the CTR patch, they asked me about the reactions I had from my peers. I told them about all the questions I had been asked and the different reactions I had received when my friends realized I am a Mormon. They told me not to worry about what people think, because I had provided myself with the best missionary experiences possible.
At lunch it became a common event to have discussions about what my friends had heard about the Church and what was true. Each day there are new questions. Now, one friend is taking the missionary lessons, while another has been reading the Book of Mormon. Another friend asked to come to seminary with me sometime. He even told me that he had noticed how different I acted from our other friends—happy in the morning, helpful to others, didn’t cheat in class on the tests. And most noticeably, he had never heard me cuss.
I realized that no matter what, the way a person acts is always noticed, therefore I was glad to know that by living the way my parents and Church leaders had taught me, I became an example to my friends around me. This CTR patch has caused many changes among my friends, most of which I am grateful for. It has brought my religion and my beliefs to the attention of the people I am with and see every day. It seemed a small thing at the time, but it has truly changed my life for the better.
Many of my friends called me a goody-goody for a long time, but by discussing with me what I believe, they have come to accept it. I love being able to be an example, and now my friends really have come to understand why I live the way I do, which is a very big blessing.

Every member a missionary. “Sure, I want to be a missionary but I’m embarrassed.”
“It’s hard to do.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“I don’t want to force the gospel on others.”
So, what would you think of a simple approach that allowed you to introduce scores of friends and acquaintances to the Church or gospel principles—while you are doing your school work?
Karen and Susan Jacobs of Walnut Creek, California, found it fun and rewarding. It started when Karen was in the fifth grade at the American School in Copenhagen, Denmark. She was looking for a subject for a rather ambitious American history report. The teacher called for footnotes, bibliography, note cards, and oral reports—everything. Her biggest challenge was to choose a subject. Her parents suggested that she do her report on the Mormon trek westward.
“Why not?” she said.
Once started it was an easier topic to write on than most, with all that help at home, her interest, and her background on the subject from Primary and Sunday School.
Few in the class knew much about the Mormons, and the oral report, filled with interest-raising points, created a lively discussion for months afterwards. She got an A grade too!
Once they discovered the approach, the Jacobs sisters used it, with variations, on numerous occasions. For example, eighth-grader Susan created interest in a science lecture on the effects of smoking by cutting a calf’s heart in class (she had been taught where to cut and how the heart worked by George Washington University medical student Milo Andrus, who also supplied surgical gloves and scalpel). Such a graphic presentation by a petite girl made quite an impression on the class—and they got a strong Word-of-Wisdom explanation at the same time. The grade was A!
The heart lesson was so well accepted that Karen used a calf’s brain in her science fair presentation on the effects of narcotic drugs and won a prize. Again, she included an easy-to-give, easy-to-understand-and-accept explanation on one phase of the Lord’s law of health.
As an eleventh-grader (in a school system that has 12 grades) at Washington-Lee High School in Arlington, Virginia, Karen was very angry to find a derogatory portrayal of the Prophet Joseph and the Church in her history book. It described Joseph Smith as a farmer who moved from place to place digging for buried treasure. She pointed out the inaccuracies to her teacher who responded by asking if she would like to give a class presentation on early Church history. Karen was afraid but accepted. She got out her fifth-grade report. With the addition of the Joseph Smith story and a few other items, it was just the right thing. As it turned out it took the whole class period. The teacher right away asked Karen to repeat the report in his afternoon class. There were dozens of thoughtful questions which led to the missionaries being invited to explain more.
Although there were only three LDS seniors in her graduating class of 800, Karen’s senior government class was given the privilege of hearing four oral presentations on Church subjects. Karen spoke on the United Order, Mike Miller on the nutritional aspects of the Word of Wisdom, and Mark Forsyth on Church government. The bonus came when a nonmember friend, impressed by her visit made prior to the dedication of the Washington Temple, and with help from her LDS friends, reported on the Mormons as temple builders.
The willingness of Karen, Susan, and their friends to try this approach had wide-reaching effects. Virtually everyone in the school knew them as the Mormons. Located in a major suburb of Washington, D.C., the school was largely composed of children of foreign diplomats, congressmen, and other military and government officials; yet, the school was full of drug users, crude language, immorality, nonexistent dress standards, and hundreds of students without fixed standards or ideals. But the tiny LDS group was recognized and respected by teachers and students alike for what they believed in. None was treated with derision or given any trouble. In fact, it was most helpful in avoiding unwholesome activities to be able to say, “Remember, that’s not something Mormons do.”
Perhaps it was due in part to this early willingness to dig into gospel subjects and share LDS teachings that today Karen is taking time out from her studies in the Brigham Young University honor program to serve a mission to Spain and Susan has only a few months to wait for her mission call.
A great prophet of the Lord called on every member to be a missionary. Can you imagine the impact on teachers and students if every LDS student were to write or give just one report each year on the Church? Even in areas of heavy Church membership, many nonmembers have never been given real exposure to our teachings. What easier way to lengthen your stride and please President Kimball? Try it. Or to quote that motto in our beloved prophet’s office, “Do it!”

What took a short six months to destroy took years to rebuild. For the next full year I worked very hard to prove to the good kids that I was one of them. Every time I thought I had succeeded my past would come back to haunt me.
The summer after I was in tenth grade our girls’ church basketball team won the regional play-offs. We would be going to the area play-offs 1,000 miles away. We would be traveling with the boys’ team that won the regionals. I couldn’t believe what my coach said about me after that trip. She said that when we left home she had been sure she’d be sending me home early. After all she’d heard about me, she was just sure that I would get into some kind of trouble. She said she was surprised and pleased to discover that I was the best-behaved girl on the trip. I couldn’t believe it! I realized people were still judging me by the friends I’d had over a year ago. I’d never done any of the things people were saying I’d done in the past, but because of the people I’d associated with, the places I’d been seen, and the way I had dressed, everyone assumed I’d done the same awful things my friends had! I was guilty by association. Everywhere I went people were watching, testing me, judging me—all because of some choices I’d made in the past. It was so unfair, yet something I had to live with. You can’t fix a ruined reputation overnight.

Last year we had a serious problem regarding a great many obscene phone calls. I thought the caller would lose interest, but he didn’t. Upon inquiring around the neighborhood I learned that a number of other women were receiving the same calls. I sleuthed out the situation and discovered that it was a teenage boy up the street. I called him by name on the phone, telling him that was the last call he was going to make. By this time, of course, my feelings against this person were running very high. We had taken to calling him “The Jerk,” and in my mind he was clearly and simply one of the nuisances like mosquitoes that had no right to exist but did anyway.
After a long debate with myself, I went to talk to his mother. It was obvious that he needed help, and it would not be possible for him to get it unless his parents understood. I told the boy’s mother the whole story. She was surprised but took it very well and was very grateful to me for coming to her.
“I’ve been concerned about Jack for a long time,” she said. “He’s under such tremendous pressure from his father. He’s not allowed to have even a minute of free time, it seems. On the weekends he has these long, long lists of chores to do, and they’re never quite done well enough. ‘You missed a spot in the hedge, Jack,’ his father says, or ‘You didn’t get all the weeds.’ It seems like his responsibilities never end. Last weekend his father made him type a letter over four times, finding something new wrong each time. If Jack isn’t home when his dad comes in, he’ll say, ‘Where’s Jack? Is he doing his homework?’ And if he’s out playing in the neighborhood, he’ll go whistle for him. Sometimes when Jack will come in he’ll ask, ‘Is Dad here?’ and I know he’s really asking, ‘Am I going to have to do something?’ If his dad isn’t here, he’ll relax a little bit. But it doesn’t last. Jack has developed a twitch. And I know all this pressure has something to do with the phone calls.”
Again the tremor. Again the crack in the first perception, allowing me to see inside. I knew Jack’s secret, at least a little bit about the ache inside that moved him to do sad, sad things. And I wanted to help him, encourage him, instead of slapping him like a mosquito. Maybe he deserved to live after all.

One of our colleagues seated here this morning wrote of his first-semester, pre-mission enrollment in my friend C. Wilfred Griggs’s History of Civilization class. But this was going to be civilization seen through a BYU lens. So, as preambles to the course, Wilf had the students read President Spencer W. Kimball’s talk “The Second Century of Brigham Young University”3 and the first chapter of Hugh Nibley’s book Approaching Zion.4

Taken together, our very literate friend said these two readings “forged an indestructible union in my mind and heart between two soaring ideals—that of a consecrated university with that of a holy city. Zion, I came to believe, would be a city with a school [and, I would add, a temple, creating] something of a celestial college town, or perhaps a college kingdom.”

After his mission, our faculty friend returned to Provo, where he fell under the soul-expanding spell of John S. Tanner, “the platonic ideal of a BYU professor—superbly qualified in every secular sense, totally committed to the kingdom, and absolutely effervescing with love for the Savior, his students, and his subject. He moved seamlessly from careful teacher analysis to powerful personal testimony. He knew scores of passages from Milton and other poets by heart, [yet] verses of scripture flowed, if anything, even more freely from the abundance of his consecrated heart: I was unfailingly edified by the passion of his teaching and the eloquence of his example.”5

Why would such a one come back to teach at BYU after a truly distinguished postgraduate experience that might well have taken him to virtually any university in America? Because, our colleague said, “in a coming day the citizens of Zion ‘shall come forth with songs of everlasting joy’ [Moses 7:53]. I hope,” he wrote, “to help my students hear that chorus in the distance and to lend their own voices, in time, to its swelling refrain.”6

Sometimes that love comes in unexpected ways. Kristen was finishing a graduate degree and had recently given birth to her second child. She felt the other graduates had accomplished so much more and was reluctant to attend the graduation dinner. Her fears were confirmed when, at the dinner, the students were asked to list their professional accomplishments. Kristen recalled: “I suddenly felt embarrassed and ashamed. I had nothing to call myself, no lofty position, no impressive job title.” To make matters worse, the professor read the lists as he presented a diploma to each student. The woman ahead of Kristen had many accomplishments: she already had a PhD, was receiving a second master’s degree, and she’d even been a mayor! The woman received grand applause.
Then it was Kristen’s turn. She handed the professor her blank sheet, trying to hold back the tears. The professor had been one of her teachers and had praised her performance. He looked at her blank paper. Without missing a beat he announced, “Kristen holds the most critical role in all of society.” He was quiet for a few seconds, then declared in a powerful voice, “She is the mother of her children.” Instead of a few courteous claps, people rose to their feet. There was just one standing ovation that night; it was for the mother in the room.