Gospel Story Finder

I have always believed in the power of prayer. When I first moved to Asia, I had to wait for two months to start school until a new semester began. Although I enjoyed spending time with my family, I wanted a good friend with the same beliefs as I have. I eventually met all of my neighbors, and although some were the same age as me, they didn’t have the same standards.
When I was able to go to school, I met a lot of kids my age and made some friends. One time some friends and I went out for dinner. After dinner some of my friends left, but the rest still wanted to do something and decided they wanted to go and drink. They invited me, but I told them no. I felt even more lonesome. I went home that night and prayed to find a good friend.
A few weeks later I went out to dinner with some friends again, making it clear I wouldn’t drink with them. After dinner all but one other person left to go drinking. We started to talk and found that we had the same standards—standards we kept by personal choice.
I know that Heavenly Father always answers prayers.
Jordan H., age 17, Texas, USA

When my friends Brother Chen and his wife were baptized into our ward, I was overjoyed. A year after their baptism, they were sealed in the temple, and their son who had passed away before they joined the Church was sealed to them. It was wonderful to see the Chens grow in the gospel.
Then Brother Chen was killed in a car accident the next year. Following the accident, his death seemed to always be on my mind and often haunted my dreams. I woke up in tears and asked over and over again, “Why? Why does the Lord allow this kind of tragedy to happen? Why does such a thing have to happen to this beautiful family?” One day, when I was struggling with these questions, I picked up a lesson manual and read these words from President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985):
“If we looked at mortality as the whole of existence, then pain, sorrow, failure, and short life would be calamity. But if we look upon life as an eternal thing stretching far into the premortal past and on into the eternal post-death future, then all happenings may be put in proper perspective. …
“Are we not exposed to temptations to test our strength, sickness that we might learn patience, death that we might be immortalized and glorified?”1
At that moment, I decided to let go of my sorrow and look into the promised and possible future. I saw in my mind’s eye Brother Chen happily reunited with his family. That sight brought me peace. I know that Heavenly Father will give us the wisdom and courage to face adversities.

“Are you a Christian?” It was a headline for an advertisement soliciting community service volunteers, and it attracted Roger Freeman’s attention. Brother Freeman is a faithful member of the Church—a Sunday School teacher, home teacher, and father of nine. Surely no one could accuse him of not serving his fellow man in a Christian way. Still, the question concerned him.
Brother Freeman contacted the community service agency that had placed the advertisement and asked how he could help. The agency gave him the names of several elderly people who needed someone to do various tasks around their homes.
Since that day several years ago, Brother Freeman has mowed lawns, repaired furniture, cleaned yards, and done odd jobs in many of the older sections of his city—often taking along a few of his children to help. Every few months, he calls the agency for more names. Sometimes he has cried, seeing people who are so poor and so lonely. Occasionally, he can befriend a person he serves and maintain some personal contact. He wishes he could do more.
Where does he find the time to reach beyond his circle of family and Church associations? “It doesn’t take much time,” says Brother Freeman. And what motivates him? He explains, “It’s mostly a matter of reaching beyond my own needs. Sometimes I think of the Savior walking down the dusty roads he traveled. He was aware of people’s needs.”
Serving those around us is not merely something added to the gospel. In fact, the Lord equates serving each other with serving Him. (See Mosiah 2:17.) Brother Lowell Bennion, who runs the community service agency in Salt Lake City that Brother Freeman called, feels that Saints should go to church not to be satisfied, but to “be motivated to go out and serve our neighbors in need.”

On Christmas Eve 37 years ago, in the light of a full moon, I climbed a small hill in the isolated village of Quiriza, Bolivia. Four young elders and I had spent the day crossing over a mountain pass on a treacherous road. Then we struggled up a riverbed to see if the teachings of the Savior would help a destitute people. What we saw that day was discouraging—undernourished children, adults subsisting on meager crops, some with eyes glazed from seeking refuge in alcohol and drugs. I looked at the tiny, barren village below—a cluster of adobe, thatched-roof houses beaten by the harsh environment. The only evidence of life was barking dogs searching for food. There was no electricity, telephone, running water, roads, proper sanitation, nor doctors there. It seemed so hopeless. Yet a solemn prayer confirmed that we should be there. We found a humble people who embraced the restored gospel with determination to live it. They did that under harsh conditions where severe poverty, alcohol, drugs, witchcraft, and immorality were in plentiful supply.

Under the guidance of exceptional missionaries, the people learned to work hard to cultivate the fields. They produced a harvest of nutritious vegetables and raised rabbits for better protein. But the best lessons came from beloved missionaries who taught them of a God who loved them, of a Savior who gave His life that they might succeed. Their physical appearance began to change. The light of truth radiated from their happy faces. As devoted, loving emissaries of the Lord, missionaries patiently taught truth to a willing people. Wives and husbands learned how to live in harmony, teach truth to their children, pray, and sense the guidance of the Spirit.

I watched a six-year-old boy who had carefully observed our first baptismal service act out with his younger sister what he had seen. He carefully arranged her hands, raised his tiny arm to the square, mumbled words, gently lowered her into a depression in the sun-baked earth, led her to a rock where he confirmed her, then shook her hand. The youth learned most quickly. They became obedient to the light of truth taught by the missionaries and in time by their own parents. Through their faith and obedience, I have seen how in one generation, youth baptized in that village have overcome a seemingly hopeless future. Some have been missionaries, graduated from universities, and been sealed in the temple. Through their diligence and obedience, they have found purpose and success in life despite an early harsh physical and evil-saturated environment. If it can be done in Quiriza, Bolivia, it can be done anywhere.

The Lord’s special concern for widows is abundantly evidenced in the scriptures. Of course this concern also extends to all single mothers. They have so many demands placed upon them. They must provide the food and clothing and other necessities for the family. They also need to nurture their children with an extra amount of love and caring.

I recently received a letter from the son of a sister in this circumstance, and I quote a paragraph from it: “Mom was able to be a full-time homemaker while our family was young. This is where she wanted to be, but some 28 years ago, with four children ages 5 to 14, she was forced to take on employment outside the home in order to provide for us as a suddenly single parent. While we know this is not the ideal situation for raising a family, Mom worked diligently to continue nurturing us in the gospel and tending to all family duties while working full-time to support us financially. Only now as a parent myself, blessed to have my wife at home to care for our children, have I begun to understand the scope of Mom’s situation and trials in caring for us at that time. It was difficult and trying and I wish that I had done more to make things easier for her. I will be eternally grateful for her sacrifice in setting an example by teaching us how to work and how we should live. The wisdom of the proclamation on the family rings especially true to me now because of the experiences we shared as a family.”

Consider that you are invited to a friend’s house for breakfast. On the table you see a large pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice from which your host fills his glass. But he offers you none. Finally, you ask, “Could I have a glass of orange juice?”

He replies, “Oh, I am sorry. I was afraid you might not like orange juice, and I didn’t want to offend you by offering you something you didn’t desire.”

Now, that sounds absurd, but it is not too different from the way we hesitate to offer up something far sweeter than orange juice. I have often worried how I would answer some friend about my hesitancy when I meet him beyond the veil.
A story related by Elder Christoffel Golden, of South Africa, refreshed my concerns. He was recently in Lusaka, Zambia, attending a meeting of new converts. A well-spoken, well-dressed stranger with a Book of Mormon in hand walked in. He stated he had driven past the chapel many times and had wondered what church met there and what they taught for doctrine.
At the conclusion of the meeting, this gentleman stood up, raised his copy of the Book of Mormon high in the air, and asked, “Why have you kept this book hidden from the people of Lusaka? Why have you kept it a secret?”
As I heard this story, I flinched that one day some friend might ask me, “Why have you kept this Book of Mormon, with its message of truth and salvation, a secret?”
My reply, “I was afraid I would damage our friendship,” will not be very satisfying to either me or my friend.
Brothers and sisters, I pray that we may put our fears and our hesitancy behind us and no more keep secret the great treasure that is ours.

When Wilhelm Michael Dithmer was a boy, a serious case of the measles left him blind. Soon after that he was orphaned. The only thing he owned was his father’s clarinet. He sat on street corners in Copenhagen, Denmark, and played the clarinet, hoping to stay alive from the money that people would give him. One generous person decided to send Wilhelm to school, and after that, Wilhelm converted to the gospel and immigrated to America. He settled in Utah and gave free music lessons to generations of boys. Wilhelm died in 1916, and at his funeral it was said of him, “There was neither father, mother, sister, brother, wife, nor child to mourn Wilhelm’s passing. However, no man ever had more friends.”

One memorable ministering experience taught me how the Lord works through His servants to bless His children. One day my companion and I set out to visit a brother in our ward. It was our second ministering visit of the day, and as we embarked on our journey, we encountered difficulties locating his home. Google Maps directed us to the wrong location, leaving us confused and unsure of where to go. Determined not to give up, we decided to call the brother to explain the situation. He kindly clarified that he did not live in the area where the map had directed us and proceeded to describe his actual location.
With his guidance, we got back into the car and continued our journey, hopeful that we would find his home. Thankfully, we arrived at the correct address. The brother warmly welcomed us into his home, and we felt great joy in meeting him and his family. After exchanging pleasantries, we asked if there was anything we could do for them or if there was something they would like to share with us. The brother opened up about a concern that had been troubling him. He explained that just the day before, he had felt very guilty about his situation and knew he needed to speak with someone from church who could help him. Our visit seemed to him like an answer to his prayers.
He went on to share his concern: he was not legally married to his wife. This revelation surprised us because, according to the information on the Church’s member tools, his record indicated that he was married. He clarified that this was a mistake, likely a mix-up from when he was interviewed by the missionaries prior to his baptism. He expressed feelings of guilt and a strong desire to correct the situation.
We offered words of counsel and encouragement, discussing the steps he could take to resolve his situation. We assured him of our support and reminded him of the blessings that come from doing what is right. With our encouragement, he determined to take the necessary steps to address his marital status in a way that aligned with God’s commandments.
Today, this brother and his wife are legally married, and they are preparing to be sealed as an eternal family in the temple.

John and Tess found they enjoyed the extra effort they put into visiting their neighbors so much, they decided to expand the assignment into a week.
“As soon as we received the assignment from the bishop we came home and began talking about it. We planned. We prayed. And then we planned and prayed some more,” John reflected.
“From Sunday until Thursday I just kept thinking the day was coming closer and closer. I knew that I had enough time to prepare, and on Thursday I’d better live the best I could. I couldn’t really offer any excuses,” says Tess.
They decided to fill their day visiting their neighbors, taking some fruit or a gift to those who were ill, expressing their thanks to people who had helped them. “So many people are lonely and just want to talk,” says John who serves on the fellowshipping committee in the ward. “We wanted to just go and let them know we cared. And it was wonderful to see how they opened up to us. One sister asked us if the high priests could come and administer the sacrament in her home once in a while since she couldn’t go to the meetings. So I talked with the bishop about it, and the next week a couple of us administered the sacrament to her.”
Was their day a success? “Oh, yes! Most days we think about what we should do, but we just don’t make the effort to do it. And when you finally do it, you have such a good feeling,” Tess said.

Have you memorized your monthly New Era? Kenneth Higbee did, in just a few hours.

Dr. Higbee, a psychologist at BYU, gives firesides in the Provo area explaining the “link system” of memory training.

With the “link system” a person associates easily remembered items together with mental pictures. For example, a shopping list of milk, bananas, and a can opener could easily be remembered by forming a mental picture of a banana opening a carton of milk. Before one such demonstration the youth of the Provo Utah Sharon East Stake were puzzled when asked to bring copies of the June New Era to a stake fireside.

After showing how the link system can be used to memorize lists rapidly and accurately, Dr. Higbee asked the young people to open their magazines and ask him any question about the contents. Although he couldn’t repeat the stories and articles word for word, he knew all the titles, authors, subjects, and even the page numbers of the articles.

After the New Era demonstration, the young people were asked to try and memorize a list of 20 words. Only three could do it. But after practicing the link system, over 80 percent of the group could memorize the complete 20-word list.

With a little practice you might be able to memorize the New Era too. And when you’ve got it down, pass the magazine on to a friend who “forgot” to subscribe. Or better still, subscribe for that friend!

“In 1836 when my great-grandmother Derrick, who lived in Keynsham, England, was fifty-six years old,” Elder Royden G. Derrick related, “she called my grandfather to her bedside and said, ‘Zach, my son, do not affiliate yourself with any church with which you are now acquainted, but when missionaries come from America preaching two by two on the street corners and in the halls of the city and teaching of a living prophet and a restored church, join that church because that will be the true church of God.’ This was one year before the first Mormon missionaries arrived in Liverpool, England, to bring the news of the restored gospel to the old world. In 1848 two associates from the Bristol Iron Works, where grandfather Derrick worked, invited him to hear some Mormon missionaries from America. He recognized their message to be what his mother had told him to look for. He joined the Church and in 1851 immigrated to America and crossed the plains to the Great Salt Lake Basin. I was the youngest of my father’s children and my father was the youngest of his father’s children, so I never knew Grandfather Derrick, but he had a profound influence on my life. I have grown to love and admire him.”

I would like to tell you about some of the miracles that occurred in Andre’s quorum in Mochudi. As I share this example, watch for principles that strengthen every priesthood quorum that applies them.
After Andre was baptized, he accompanied the missionaries as they taught four other young men, who were also baptized. Now there were five young men. They began strengthening each other and the branch.
A sixth young man, Thuso, was baptized. Thuso shared the gospel with three of his friends, and soon there were nine.
In Mochudi, a 10th young man soon joined the Church. The missionaries found the 11th. And the 12th young man was baptized after seeing the gospel’s effect on his friends.
Members of the Mochudi Branch were thrilled. These young men “were converted unto the Lord, and … united unto the church.”12
The Book of Mormon played a significant role in their conversion.13 Thuso remembers, “I began reading the Book of Mormon … every time I was free, at home, at school, everywhere.”14
Oratile was drawn to the gospel because of the example of his friends. He explains: “[They] seemed to change in the snap of a finger. … I thought it had … to do with the little … book they started carrying around … school. I could see what good men they had become. … [I] wanted to change too.”15
All 12 young men were gathered and baptized within two years of each other. Each was the only member of the Church in his family. But they were supported by their Church family, including President Rakwela,16 their branch president; Elder and Sister Taylor,17 a senior missionary couple; and other branch members.
Brother Junior,18 a quorum leader, invited the young men to his home on Sunday afternoons and mentored them. The young men studied the scriptures together and held regular home evenings.
Brother Junior took them to visit members, people being taught by the missionaries, and anyone else who needed a visit. All 12 young men piled into the back of Brother Junior’s truck. He dropped them off at homes in companionships of two or three and picked them up later.
Even though the young men were just learning about the gospel and didn’t feel they knew much, Brother Junior told them to share one or two things they did know with the people they visited. These young priesthood holders taught, prayed, and helped watch over the Church.19 They fulfilled their priesthood responsibilities and experienced the joy of serving.
Andre said, “We played together, laughed together, cried together, and became a brotherhood.”20 In fact, they call themselves “the Band of Brothers.”
Together they set a goal that they would all serve missions. Since they were the only Church members in their families, they had many obstacles to overcome, but they helped each other through them.
One by one, the young men received mission calls. Those who left first wrote letters home to those still preparing, sharing experiences and encouraging them to serve. Eleven of the young men served missions.
These young men shared the gospel with their families. Mothers, sisters, brothers, friends, as well as people they taught on their missions, were converted and baptized. Miracles occurred and countless lives were blessed.
It has been almost 10 years since the Mochudi Band of Brothers started their journey together, and they are still a band of brothers.
Katlego said, “We may be separated by distance but we are still there for each other.”22

Tim leaned on the dented fender of his old Honda and scowled at his barren surroundings.
Lanely, the sign had said. What a dump, he thought.
Another hot wind carried a dust cloud across the road. The town’s only gas station sat a hundred yards off the interstate. During the tourist season, you could sit outside the garage and watch car after car fly by on the freeway, but hardly any of them stopped in Lanely.
Tim had stopped there but not to take pictures or admire the three-block skyline. Behind him, the station’s owner, a man old enough to be Tim’s grandfather, examined the engine in the hot shade of the hood.
Tim’s tan face looked angry and exhausted. Red, matted hair, drenched in sweat, added to his tired appearance. He scowled at his watch. Great, he thought, I’ll be late for the game. He had never missed a football game. Now here he was, stuck in some dump, for no good reason. Why did Mom make him go to his uncle’s funeral anyway? It wasn’t like he’d seen him in the last 10 years. And he had wasted his morning with a bunch of other people he hadn’t seen in 10 years. He didn’t want to do that again.
“Well,” said the owner, emerging from under the hood, “it looks like you might be here for a while. Your water pump’s bad. That’s why your engine keeps overheating.”
Tim rolled his eyes and threw up his hands at the news. He fumed for a moment then kicked the car’s front tire angrily.
“Great,” he grunted. “How long is that going to take?”
“Oh, a couple hours, I reckon.” The owner wiped his greasy hands on a rag that looked even greasier. “I think I have the part here. But my other mechanic is home sick today. If you want to lend me a hand, it would move things along a little.”
He pulled a red handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. The boy’s face was very familiar; the strong nose and the firm, square jaw awakened a shadow in Jack’s memory. “Where are you headed, anyway?”
Tim let a second drift by before answering. “Over to the coast. A town called Cranston.”
Jack hadn’t thought about Cranston for a long time. It reminded him of …
He took a closer look at the young man. A surprising resemblance, he told himself. Maybe it was just his imagination. “C’mon,” he said, gesturing toward the car. “Let’s get this thing in the garage.”
Tim stood still for a second, then moved to help push the car. The sooner it was fixed, the sooner he could get out of here.
Jack was under the hood again. Tim leaned on the fender and peered down at the engine, but it was just one greasy, tangled mass to his eyes, and he slipped into daydreaming. He had lost track of time, but it seemed like they’d been in there a while. Occasionally Jack would ask for a certain tool, and Tim found most of those indistinguishable too.
Inside the garage, they were out of the sun, but the heat still bore down on Tim, squeezing more sweat from his body. Soiled auto manuals filled a rickety bookcase on one wall. The odors of gasoline, motor oil, and something mildewy blended to give him a headache. It was the silence that Jack found intolerable. He wiped his shiny forehead with his sleeve.
“So you’re from Cranston,” he said, not looking up from the engine. “Does the name Nate Vaughan mean anything to you?”
Tim answered without moving. “He was my grandad. Never met him. I think he died when my mom was really young. How did you know him?”
“Why, he used to live here in town,” Jack said. He glanced at Tim. “There’s a strong family resemblance, I might add.”
Tim let out a flat grunt. “I think I remember my mom saying something about that once, but she hardly talks about him.” He went back to staring at the engine.
Jack resumed working but tried to continue the conversation. “Yup, he and I were friends for years before your mother was born. We worked as ranch hands together, and he was best man at my wedding.”
Tim glanced at his watch. He didn’t care for reminiscing, but he was going to be here for a while. When the old man paused, Tim said, “I heard he went crazy.”
To Tim’s surprise, Jack didn’t even look up but kept loosening a certain nut. For a moment Tim thought he hadn’t been heard, but then Jack replied calmly, “Did your mother tell you that?”
Tim thought he felt tension hovering in the air. “Yeah, a long time ago. She said that’s why my grandma left him and moved to Cranston.”
The owner handed Tim his wrench. “Give me that one second from the end,” he said, wiping his forehead on his sleeve again. He didn’t speak again until he had resumed work on the engine. “Well, son, you’re not getting the whole story there. I knew your grandma, and she was a fine woman. I knew your mother, too, when she was really young. Your Grandpa Nate loved them both very much; he was a wonderful husband and father.”
“Then why did he leave them?”
“Now, see, that’s what I want to set straight.” He extracted himself from the engine and leaned against a nearby workbench, wiping his hands on a rag. “You see, all three of them used to live here in town. One day your grandpa met two traveling preachers, and they showed him this.”
He stepped over to the bookcase and pulled a volume off the shelf with a worn hand. He handed it to Tim, who examined the book briefly. It was old but not dusty, bound in worn, brown leather. The yellowed title page read, “The Book of Mormon.” The name sounded familiar. Tim shrugged his shoulders. “Okay. So what? People don’t up and leave their families over a book.”
Jack slowly turned the wrench over his hands. His eyes stared off into space. “The first time Nate met the missionaries and saw the Book of Mormon, he knew it was true. He asked the missionaries to baptize him that same week. I still remember how excited he was when he first told me about it.” He gripped the wrench firmly in his hands and looked thoughtfully at Tim. “Your grandma, on the other hand, didn’t like the whole deal at all. Among other things, she said she didn’t believe someone should change religions. Nate was sad that it upset her, but he couldn’t just stop believing what he believed to be true. Eventually your grandmother took your mother and moved in with relatives in Cranston. I don’t think Nate saw them much after that, and I didn’t either. Nate passed away not long after.”
Tim shrugged again. “I don’t get it. What made him do that?”
The owner tilted his head a little to the left and pondered for a moment. Then he drew in a deep breath and said, “Tim, it’s not easy to explain in a few words, and I don’t know exactly how Nate felt or what he experienced. I’m not him.”
They were quiet for a moment. Tim wanted to say something, but waited. Jack continued.
“That was a very busy time for both of us, but I remember how one day we were out fishing not far from here. I knew that Nate and his wife were having some troubles then, though I didn’t understand all the circumstances and everything. Eventually we started talking about it. I told him that I thought he was risking a lot for this religion, with his marriage and all. He nodded, said he knew that. So then I asked him straight out why he was doing it. He was really quiet for a minute, and then he said, ‘Jack, do you remember those nights out on the trail when we slept under the stars?’
“We used to stay awake for hours talking about God and life and what we were supposed to be doing with our time. We put a lot of thought into it, but never got very far. Anyway, Nate told me, ‘I finally found answers for those questions we always wondered about.’ Sometimes Nate had told me that he was afraid of being alone. He was afraid that one day his friends and family would all be gone, and he’d be alone. But now he said that he knew that God knew and loved him. He said that God would help him in his hard times, that he was helping him right then.
“I remember being amazed at the excitement and passion he spoke with. He was a changed man, and there was something in his voice that gave me hope.”
Jack paused. A placid thoughtfulness had settled over his face. “Now, I didn’t understand everything he told me right then, and it was actually a long time before I did, but by the time he finished speaking I had this beautiful, peaceful feeling that made me want to believe everything he’d said. I never doubted Nate after that.” Jack looked at the engine, then handed Tim the wrench. “I think we’re done.”
Tim took the wrench and stepped back from the car. He stood silently, staring at the tool. Alone. Or not? The idea hadn’t occurred to Tim before, but now it made him think. Jack’s words carried a power. They stirred up questions too. Did his grandad have any more relatives here? Where was he from? How did he meet grandmom?
Tim’s trance was snapped by the slamming of the hood of his car. “You’re ready to go,” the old man told Tim. “That’ll get you to Cranston, no problem. Just a little late.”
Late. The game. Tim had forgotten it. “Ummm, great. Sounds good,” he finally mumbled.
Tim wrote a check while Jack cleaned up. Neither said much until Tim was about to climb into his car. He offered the owner his hand and thanked him.
The owner shook his hand and nodded. Then he handed him a scrap of paper with a number scrawled on it. “My pleasure. Listen, I’ve got a lot of pictures and stuff from when I used to work with your grandpa. Why don’t you come back up and take a look at them sometime? Or you’re always welcome just to come and talk.”
Tim nodded and got into his car. As he started the engine, he leaned out the window and said, “Thanks. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

One night in early 1908, passersby in Colchester, Essex, England, must have rubbed their eyes and looked again. Among the dim splashes of lamplight, a short, broad-shouldered man with three heads and six legs came striding up North Hill through a heavy rain. He walked boldly up on High Street, down Culver, and stepped into a doorway. Inside he shed his dripping raincoat and, without so much as a flourish, turned into three boys. From the right arm of the coat stepped Arthur Sadler, from the left arm his brother Stanley, and from between them their brother Herbert.
Standing unconsciously at attention, Arthur spoke to the man at the desk. “We’ve come to join the troop, sir.”
The man was friendly but non-commital. “You’re soaked,” he said. “How far have you come?”
“We live on Baker’s Lane.”
The man shook his head. “I’m sorry, but that’s two miles from here, and we’re looking for boys who can guarantee 100 percent attendance. With this Colchester weather I’m afraid we couldn’t count on you.”
Arthur wiped the rain from his forehead. “Try us a month, sir. If you find you can’t trust us, drop us.”
So, with only one raincoat among them, the three already-Scouts set off to become a part of it all.
The man at the desk was dubious, but something about the three boys impressed him. Maybe it was just that they had walked two miles in the rain to join, or perhaps it was the understanding of the Scouting program that they had gained in their own patrol. Whatever it was, Arthur and his brothers got their month’s trial period, and for as long as they belonged to the troop none of the three ever missed a meeting, although it often meant two miles of rain or snow coming and going. They believed in the simple advice their father had once given them: “If you give your word, keep it!”

As a young man I worked with a contractor building footings and foundations for new houses. In the summer heat it was hard work to prepare the ground for the form into which we poured the cement for the footing. There were no machines. We used a pick and a shovel. Building lasting foundations for buildings was hard work in those days.
It also required patience. After we poured the footing, we waited for it to cure. Much as we wanted to keep the jobs moving, we also waited after the pour of the foundation before we took away the forms.
And even more impressive to a novice builder was what seemed to be a tedious and time-consuming process to put metal bars carefully inside the forms to give the finished foundation strength.
In a similar way, the ground must be carefully prepared for our foundation of faith to withstand the storms that will come into every life. That solid basis for a foundation of faith is personal integrity.
Our choosing the right consistently whenever the choice is placed before us creates the solid ground under our faith. It can begin in childhood, since every soul is born with the free gift of the Spirit of Christ. With that Spirit we can know when we have done what is right before God and when we have done wrong in His sight.
Those choices, hundreds in most days, prepare the solid ground on which our edifice of faith is built. The metal framework around which the substance of our faith is poured is the gospel of Jesus Christ, with all its covenants, ordinances, and principles.
One of the keys to an enduring faith is to judge correctly the curing time required. That is why I was unwise to pray so soon in my life for higher mountains to climb and greater tests.
That curing does not come automatically through the passage of time, but it does take time. Getting older does not do it alone. It is serving God and others persistently with full heart and soul that turns testimony of truth into unbreakable spiritual strength.
Now, I wish to encourage those who are in the midst of hard trials, who feel their faith may be fading under the onslaught of troubles. Trouble itself can be your way to strengthen and finally gain unshakable faith. Moroni, the son of Mormon in the Book of Mormon, told us how that blessing could come to pass. He teaches the simple and sweet truth that acting on even a twig of faith allows God to grow it:
“And now, I, Moroni, would speak somewhat concerning these things; I would show unto the world that faith is things which are hoped for and not seen; wherefore, dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith.
“For it was by faith that Christ showed himself unto our fathers, after he had risen from the dead; and he showed not himself unto them until after they had faith in him; wherefore, it must needs be that some had faith in him, for he showed himself not unto the world.
“But because of the faith of men he has shown himself unto the world, and glorified the name of the Father, and prepared a way that thereby others might be partakers of the heavenly gift, that they might hope for those things which they have not seen.
“Wherefore, ye may also have hope, and be partakers of the gift, if ye will but have faith.”
That particle of faith most precious and which you should protect and use to whatever extent you can is faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Moroni taught the power of that faith this way: “And neither at any time hath any wrought miracles until after their faith; wherefore they first believed in the Son of God.”
I have visited with a woman who received the miracle of sufficient strength to endure unimaginable losses with just the simple capacity to repeat endlessly the words “I know that my Redeemer lives.” That faith and those words of testimony were still there in the mist that obscured but did not erase memories of her childhood.
I was stunned to learn that another woman had forgiven a person who had wronged her for years. I was surprised and asked her why she had chosen to forgive and forget so many years of spiteful abuse.
She said quietly, “It was the hardest thing I have ever done, but I just knew I had to do it. So I did.” Her faith that the Savior would forgive her if she forgave others prepared her with a feeling of peace and hope as she faced death just months after she had forgiven her unrepentant adversary.
She asked me, “When I get there, how will it be in heaven?”
And I said, “I know just from what I have seen of your capacity to exercise faith and to forgive that it will be a wonderful homecoming for you.”
I have another encouragement to those who now wonder if their faith in Jesus Christ will be sufficient for them to endure well to the end. I was blessed to have known others of you who are listening now when you were younger, vibrant, gifted beyond most of those around you, yet you chose to do what the Savior would have done. Out of your abundance you found ways to help and care for those you might have ignored or looked down upon from your place in life.
When hard trials come, the faith to endure them well will be there, built as you may now notice but may have not at the time that you acted on the pure love of Christ, serving and forgiving others as the Savior would have done. You built a foundation of faith from loving as the Savior loved and serving for Him. Your faith in Him led to acts of charity that will bring you hope.
It is never too late to strengthen the foundation of faith. There is always time. With faith in the Savior, you can repent and plead for forgiveness. There is someone you can forgive. There is someone you can thank. There is someone you can serve and lift. You can do it wherever you are and however alone and deserted you may feel.
I cannot promise an end to your adversity in this life. I cannot assure you that your trials will seem to you to be only for a moment. One of the characteristics of trials in life is that they seem to make clocks slow down and then appear almost to stop.
There are reasons for that. Knowing those reasons may not give much comfort, but it can give you a feeling of patience. Those reasons come from this one fact: in Their perfect love for you, Heavenly Father and the Savior want you fitted to be with Them to live in families forever. Only those washed perfectly clean through the Atonement of Jesus Christ can be there.
My mother fought cancer for nearly 10 years. Treatments and surgeries and finally confinement to her bed were some of her trials.
I remember my father saying as he watched her take her last breath, “A little girl has gone home to rest.”
One of the speakers at her funeral was President Spencer W. Kimball. Among the tributes he paid, I remember one that went something like this: “Some of you may have thought that Mildred suffered so long and so much because of something she had done wrong that required the trials.” He then said, “No, it was that God just wanted her to be polished a little more.” I remember at the time thinking, “If a woman that good needed that much polishing, what is ahead for me?”
If we have faith in Jesus Christ, the hardest as well as the easiest times in life can be a blessing. In all conditions, we can choose the right with the guidance of the Spirit. We have the gospel of Jesus Christ to shape and guide our lives if we choose it. And with prophets revealing to us our place in the plan of salvation, we can live with perfect hope and a feeling of peace. We never need to feel that we are alone or unloved in the Lord’s service because we never are. We can feel the love of God. The Savior has promised angels on our left and our right to bear us up. And He always keeps His word.

As a young man having just finished my first year of college and needing to earn money for a desired mission, I spent the summer working at the new Jackson Lake Lodge in Jackson Hole, Wyoming.
One co-worker was Jill, a young woman from San Francisco, California. Feeling that a young woman from a big city might be a little bit naive about her new environment, a few friends and I felt it our obligation to teach her about the ways of the real West. We decided to take her on a “snipe hunt.” For those of you who may not be familiar with a snipe hunt, it is a practical joke. The tools necessary for a snipe hunt are a stick and a cloth bag. The “hunter” is told to go through the brush, beating the bushes with a stick while calling the snipe in a high-pitched, ridiculous voice. The nonexistent snipes are thus to be driven into the cloth bag.
We gave Jill her cloth bag and a stick and an area to hunt across the hill. The plan was to return to our starting point in about 15 minutes, at which time we would supposedly count our snipes.
When she did not return at the appointed time, we gloated and took delight in the seriousness with which she took her hunt. After about 30 minutes, we felt it was time to rescue her, explain the joke, have a good laugh, and all go to dinner. However, it became apparent that she had taken her snipe hunt more seriously than we had expected—she was not to be found in her assigned area. After searching rather extensively and still finding no evidence of her, we began moving into the woods, calling for her at the top of our voices, but to no avail.
Hoping she might have gone back to her dormitory, we returned and asked some young women to search for her there, but this also was to no avail. It was now turning dark, and our concern heightened. We enlisted all the young men we could from the boys’ dormitory, and with flashlights continued the search deep into the woods. Well into the darkness of night—frightened, concerned, and hoarse from calling—we decided it was now time to report our ridiculous deed to the park rangers. While we were standing in front of the dorms, trying to determine which brave soul would have the privilege of reporting her disappearance, Jill suddenly appeared—not from her dormitory, but rather from that of a friend, with whom she had enjoyed dinner (which we incidentally missed) and a comfortable evening with her friends. Her first words to us as she approached said it all: “How do you fellows like hunting snipe hunters?”
The joke was on us, and I have never had a desire for any more snipe hunting.

Here is another example of the effect on the future of decisions made in the present. This example concerns the choice to make a present sacrifice to achieve an important future goal.
At a stake conference in Cali, Colombia, a sister told how she and her fiancé desired to be married in the temple, but at that time the closest temple was in faraway Peru. For a long time, they saved their money for the bus fares. Finally they boarded the bus to Bogotá, but when they arrived there, they learned that all seats on the bus to Lima, Peru, were taken. They could go home without being married or be married out of the temple. Fortunately, there was one other alternative. They could ride on the bus to Lima if they were willing to sit on the floor of the bus for the entire five-day and five-night ride. They chose to do this. She said it was difficult, even though some riders sometimes let them sit in their seats so they could stretch out on the floor.
What impressed me in her talk was this sister’s statement that she was grateful she and her husband had been able to go to the temple in this way, because it changed the way they felt about the gospel and the way they felt about marriage in the temple. The Lord had rewarded them with the growth that comes from sacrifice. She also observed that their five-day trip to the temple accomplished a great deal more in building their spirituality than many visits to the temple that were sacrifice-free.
In the years since I heard that testimony, I have wondered how different that young couple’s life would have been if they had made another choice—forgoing the sacrifice necessary to be married in the temple.

In 1994 a horrific genocide occurred in Rwanda. Between 600,000 and 900,000 people were killed in a matter of 60 to 90 days.
Eventually, the Church established a branch in the capital city of Kigali. The branch was doing well—without full-time missionaries. In 2011 we were serving in the Africa Southeast Area when we learned, sadly, that our registration as a church with the country of Rwanda was invalid, which meant that we were functioning illegally as a church. We also learned that our meetinghouse, a converted two-story home, was not appropriately zoned to hold Church meetings. The Area Presidency, in consultation with our first contact in the Quorum of the Twelve, made the agonizing decision to close the branch. Our members were no longer able to meet for Church meetings.
Lawyers in Kigali, Salt Lake City, and Johannesburg, South Africa, began working fervently to resolve the problems. All the while, the Saints kept asking when they could meet together again. Months went by without resolution or progress.
After about 10 months, we flew to Kigali to visit those Saints and try to buoy up their spirits. Before we did, we asked that the matter be placed on the temple prayer roll of the weekly meeting of the First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve.
The Tuesday before our scheduled trip from Johannesburg to Kigali, we were notified that, in a surprising move, the government had granted the Church provisional registration in Kigali. Then on Thursday of the same week, the zoning commission granted an exemption from the zoning ordinance. The Kigali Saints could once again meet in our building without violating the law.
This was miraculous! Members were quickly notified that the branch would be meeting on Sunday. We arrived on Friday and invited members to come to church. When Sunday came, all the members—all of them—and many of their friends came to church. They arrived early, eager to be together again. As the sacrament was blessed and passed, we all experienced an extraordinary renewing, refreshing, and cleansing spirit.
We remember, in the meeting, wondering why we did not feel this same spirit every week as we partook of the sacrament. We looked around at the Saints and realized that they had come hungering and thirsting for the sacrament. Their faith, diligence, and patience brought all of us blessings. We pledged that whenever we again partook of the sacrament, we would remember this experience with the Kigali Saints. We committed that we too would hunger for the blessings of partaking of the sacrament.

Gil Ja had learned service by example. Her mother always lived by that principle, serving Church members even before she became one herself.
Her mother had come to love the members of the Church and the sister missionaries who wanted to teach her. But it was difficult to give up her traditional religion. In her closet she had a small statue of Buddha to which she prayed each day. The turning point in her conversion came after she dreamed that she was praying to her Buddha when it began to cry tears from its painted eyes and slowly turned its back on her. She understood that the dream meant it was time for her to follow a new religious path.
Three years after her baptism and confirmation, her husband—by then the lone member of the family who was still outside the Church—finally consented to listen to the gospel and was converted. After he joined the Church, he became a changed man, his children say—sweeter, kinder, more tolerant.
Some 26 years after Cho Joong Hyun’s baptism, all of his family were at last members of the Church. It was a high point for the family when their mother and father were sealed in the Seoul Korea Temple. A touching moment for the entire family came at a later gathering when the Cho children sang to their father the lullaby he had sung to them when they were small.
Their mother served faithfully in the Church until the end of her life. Even in the hospital, suffering from stomach cancer, she was a missionary to the young woman in the next bed, introducing her to the gospel.
Her sons and daughters carry on the tradition of service. There are two President Chos in the family. Yong Hyun, the CES coordinator, has served in a variety of priesthood leadership callings through the years and is currently president of the stake in Gwangju. Cho Joong Hyun, who led the way into the Church for his family, has also served in a variety of leadership roles in Suncheon, including district president. He is currently president of the Suncheon Branch. Cho Gil Ja has served for more than 16 years as president of the Relief Society in the ward and stake. Other brothers and sisters in the family are active in their own areas as well, and all are married to active members.
Seven of the Cho children and grandchildren have served as missionaries so far, and still others are preparing to serve. Several of the children and grandchildren have married returned missionaries. Now the fourth generation of Chos is beginning to be reared in the Church. Their days have not been free of life’s difficulties, but blessings have come through their obedience.
The missionary who handed that pamphlet to a young postal worker nearly four decades ago could not have known what would grow from the small seed he planted. But the harvest has been plentiful—and it may be only beginning.

Disagreeing with my older sister was not unusual for my nine-year-old self. As with most brothers and sisters, our disagreements were more for the challenge of being the winner than for the subject of the argument.
This time, however, it seemed vital to my intellectual esteem that I be right. We were arguing about the clouds in the sky and the earth’s rotation. I had learned in my science class that the earth revolves in constant motion so I just knew that it wasn’t the clouds we saw moving across the sky, it was the earth rotating beneath them.
Since my sister and I couldn’t come to an agreement, we took the problem to our fact source: Mother. “Mom, do the clouds move or do they stay in one position and the earth moves beneath them,” we asked in unison, each anxious for her theory to be the correct one.
To my sister’s delight and my disappointment, mother explained that although the earth is constantly revolving, the clouds moved as the wind blew them across the sky. My understanding of earthly laws was incomplete and I had to alter my thinking process. There was more I needed to learn.
Fifteen years later I see how silly my idea was. I thought I could base all my observations of the physical world on the partial knowledge I had of it and be accurate in those observations. That is, until they were corrected by a more knowledgeable source.