Gospel Story Finder

Emily Partridge, daughter of the first bishop of the Church in this dispensation, remembered leaving their comfortable home in Painesville, Ohio, to move to Jackson County, Missouri, in 1831 when she was just seven years old.3 Not long after, her family was driven from their home by the mob and had to relocate in Clay County. She described how they eventually found an “old log cabin that had been used for a stable. … There was one large room, and a leanto, but that was not of much use, as the floor was nearly all torn up, and the rats and rattlesnakes were too thick for comfort. There was a large fireplace in the one habitable room, and blankets were hung up a few feet back from the fire and the two families, fifteen or sixteen in number, were gathered inside of those blankets to keep from freezing for the weather was extremely cold, so cold that the ink would freeze in the pen as father sat writing close to the fire.”4

The family later moved to Illinois. Emily summarized their experience: “Times were hard and we were very destitute, having been robbed and driven from our homes and possessions so many times, and having had much sickness.”5

A few months after finding the poem—while serving in the mission office—I traveled to Trujillo, Peru. There I met Elsa Hauyon, who was then 82 years old. She turned out to be my grandfather’s cousin, the only relative I have ever known who grew up with him in China. I spent hours talking to her, recording the names of my grandfather’s brothers and sisters. I learned that there were 13 of them and not just the four my grandfather spoke of. With Elsa’s help, I also traced our family back to the founder of my grandfather’s hometown.

Another sacred family history event also occurred while I served as a missionary. Upon arriving in Peru, I was assigned to Callao, the port of Lima. It was most remarkable because, unbeknownst to me at the time, the tombs of my Swiss ancestors were in that very city. A relative eventually told me about the tombs, but I was unable to find them before being transferred to another city.

However, I believe the Lord wanted me to find my ancestors. While missionaries are seldom assigned to the same branch twice, I was. Almost a year later, I came back to Callao, and this time I discovered there were two adjacent cemeteries, one where my Schlupp ancestors are buried and the other where the records (dating back to 1820) for the family are stored. Searching through the records, I finally came across what I was looking for: “Elizabeth Schlupp, 57 years old, buried September 16, 1875; Ana Maria Schlupp Kruse, 66 years old, buried January 24, 1918.” I had found my Swiss ancestors!

I was ecstatic. I was able to complete four generations of my family history at last. Of all the places I could have been assigned, the Lord had called me not once but twice to Callao—the place where I could locate my Swiss ancestors.

All of these wonderful events happened during the six years after my baptism. When I look back on my youth, I realize how much my testimony of the Church and its divinity has been strengthened through family history work and the Spirit of Elijah. I can truly say I have felt the Lord’s influence many times in turning my heart to my ancestors. That chord, struck by my branch president who was inspired to get me started at age 16 with family history, still resonates today in the most sacred experiences of my soul.

“Elijah came not only to stimulate research for ancestors. He also enabled families to be eternally linked beyond the bounds of mortality. Indeed, the opportunity for families to be sealed forever is the real reason for our research. The Lord declared through the Prophet Joseph Smith: ‘These are principles in relation to the dead and the living that cannot be lightly passed over, as pertaining to our salvation. For their salvation is necessary and essential to our salvation, … they without us cannot be made perfect—neither can we without our dead be made perfect’ [D&C 128:15].”Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, “A New Harvest Time,” Ensign, May 1998, 34.

Sister Carole M. Stephens, former First Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency, illustrated this point when she told the story of her energetic three-year-old granddaughter, Chloe, who could not be convinced to keep her seat belt buckled in the car. Despite Sister Stephens’s genuine attempts to encourage her, Chloe kept unbuckling her belt and refused to stay properly secured in her seat.
Finally, after explaining to her granddaughter that the seat belt was for her own safety, Chloe’s face brightened, and she exclaimed, “Grandma, you want me to wear my seat belt because you love me!” 2 As Chloe eventually understood, rules often come from a place of love. Such is the case with God’s commandments.

My wife, Maria Isabel, and I served in Central America, being stationed in Guatemala City. There I had the opportunity to meet Julia, a faithful member of the Church. I had the impression to ask her about her family. Her mother died of cancer in 2011. Her father had been a faithful leader in his stake, serving as a bishop and as a counselor to his stake president for several years. He was a true undershepherd of the Lord. Julia told me of his tireless efforts to visit, to minister, and to serve. He indeed rejoiced in feeding and tending the precious sheep of the Lord. He remarried and stayed active in the Church.

A few years later, he went through a divorce, and now he had to attend church alone once again. He felt out of place and also felt that some people were critical of him because of his divorce. He stopped attending church as a negative spirit filled his heart.

Julia spoke highly of this wonderful undershepherd, who was a hardworking, loving, and compassionate man. I vividly remember that a feeling of urgency came to me as she was describing him. I just wanted to do something for that man, a man who had done so much for so many throughout those years.

She gave me his cell phone number, and I began calling him, hoping to have the chance to meet with him personally. After several weeks and many, many phone calls without success, one day he finally answered the phone.

I told him that I had met Julia, his daughter, and that I was captivated by the way he had served, ministered, and loved the precious sheep of the Lord for so many years. He was not expecting a comment like that. I told him that I really wanted to visit with him eye to eye, face to face. He asked me my purpose in proposing such a meeting. I replied, “I really want to meet the father of such a wonderful lady.” Then for a few seconds there was silence over the phone—a few seconds that seemed to me like an eternity. He simply said, “When and where?”

The day I met him, I invited him to share with me some of his experiences visiting, ministering, and serving the precious sheep of the Lord. As he was recounting some touching stories, I noticed that the tone of his voice changed and the same spirit he had felt so many times as an undershepherd came back. Now his eyes were filled with tears. I knew this was the right moment for me, but I found that I did not know what to say. I prayed in my mind, “Father, help me.”

Suddenly, I heard myself saying, “Brother Florian, as a servant of the Lord, I apologize for our not being there for you. Please, forgive us. Give us another chance to show you that we do love you. That we need you. That you are important to us.”

The following Sunday he was back. He had a long conversation with his bishop and remained active. A few months later he passed away—but he had come back. He had come back. I testify that with our Savior’s help, we can love His precious sheep and minister to them as He would. And so, there in Guatemala City the Lord Jesus Christ brought back one more precious sheep into His fold. And He taught me a lesson on ministering that I cannot forget. In the name of the Good Shepherd, the Beautiful Shepherd, the Magnificent Shepherd, even the Lord Jesus Christ, amen.

Performance of duty, regardless of the sacrifice involved, is a part of dealing justly with oneself and others. Early in the history of this valley Joseph W. McMurrin was placed in charge of guarding some of the leaders of the Church. At a meeting in Social Hall in Salt Lake City, an intruder under a claim of authority tried to enter the hall; and Joseph W. McMurrin, being true to his trust to guard the servants of the Lord, restrained him from going through the door. President Heber J. Grant relates that the intruder “finally got his hand loose and took his pistol and, pressing it against Brother McMurrin’s body, fired two bullets … through his vitals. Those bullets lodged just under the skin in his back. He was attended by Dr. Joseph Benedict who told Joseph W. McMurrin that no man could live after two bullets had passed through his vitals, and then added: ‘If you wish to make a dying statement you should do so immediately.’

“I went with John Henry Smith to Brother McMurrin’s home and saw where the flesh was burned away around those terrible gaping wounds. I saw where the bullets had gone clear through him. I heard John Henry Smith say, ‘By the authority of the Priesthood of the living God which we hold, and in the name of the Lord, Jesus Christ, we say that you shall be made absolutely whole, and that there shall be no physical weakness left upon your body because of these terrible wounds that you have received while guarding the servants of the living God.’”

On November 21, 1931, President Grant concluded, “Joseph W. McMurrin is alive and well, and has never had any physical weakness because of those terrible wounds.” (Gospel Standards, Salt Lake City: Improvement Era, 1969, pp. 310–11.)

But in addition to the blessings, life for the Pitakpongs has had its traumas, too. Some seven years ago, President Pitakpong was out of town on business when an intruder in his home struck Sister Pitakpong with a wrench and stole a gold necklace she was wearing. “My son, Wuthikrai, went to his mother’s aid, and he, too, was hit, as was my wife’s mother. The man ran away as my daughter screamed for help.
“My wife had to be hospitalized, and she still suffers from severe headaches that make it difficult for her to concentrate.”
But the family finds comfort in living the gospel of Jesus Christ. “Being sealed together in the temple brought a special spirit into our family,” says President Pitakpong. “It strengthened our individual testimonies. Now, not only does our sixteen-year-old son want to go on a mission, but his two younger sisters want to go, too.”

It was a bright, sunny Monday morning, with a breeze a little stronger than usual for August. The weather forecast for the Florida Keys was just right for sailing—moderate winds from the northeast, clear skies to scattered cloudiness, with widely scattered rain squalls. Along the Miami River a few elegant sailboats were already getting underway.
At the Out Island pier, 17 Explorers and leaders from Post 9796 were busy stowing supplies and personal gear below deck on two sleek, 41-foot sailboats the Maupiti and the Shepahoy. This was the beginning of an activity they had been preparing for ten months, the culmination of extensive planning.
At post meetings they had learned about sails and nautical charts, dead reckoning, safety, and the “rules of the road.” Now they were finally dockside, actually loading their snorkels and scuba tanks on board. The food they would eat all week was going into the galleys. Everything was nearly ready.
Excerpts from the logs kept on both vessels succinctly record the excitement of the group’s adventure at sea:
Monday, 10:55 A.M.—Shepahoy cast off. Motored down the Miami River to Biscayne Bay. Will pick up fishing gear and rendezvous with Maupiti at MacArthur Causeway.
Noon—Delayed by final engine repairs. Underway with Brother Bowman as first helmsman. Eight drawbridges had to raise for us as we went downriver. Three blasts with the horn is the signal to raise a bridge.
12:50 A.M.—Shepahoy and Maupiti left Miami River under sail in a brisk wind, making six to eight knots. Note: A rope is not called a rope. It is a line except when it’s a sheet, a lanyard, or a halyard. But it’s never called a rope.
2:30 P.M.—Finally learning how to walk on sloping, pitching decks. Slippery decks can be bad for your health! Note: If you are told to “fall off,” it means to steer further away from the wind, not to jump overboard.
3:15 P.M.—While underway, Richard Holt caught a barracuda. Now everyone wants to fish.
4:10 P.M.—Broke the topping lift. Repaired it. Glad the skipper was giving orders when it broke instead of one of us landlubbers!
6:55 P.M.—Anchored off Elliott Key. Rafted vessels together. Everyone went swimming, then ate dinner.
8:10 P.M.—Boats separated and anchored apart for the night. Mosquitoes pretty bad until wind came up. Must anchor further off shore in the future.
Tuesday the group headed for Angelfish Creek, the passage through the Keys into the Atlantic.
9:15 A.M.—David Spellman sighted the first shark. The water is amazingly clear. It looks like you are about to go aground even when the Fathometer reads 11 to 13 feet.
1:30 P.M.—Dropped anchor just off Carysfort Reef lighthouse in 25 feet of water. The four qualified scuba divers made their first dive, while the others went snorkeling. The reef is amazing, visibility magnificent. Color and variety of fish are fantastic. We sighted barracuda, huge angelfish, groupers, grunts, and lobster, as well as brain coral, antler coral, and fan coral. Derek Doty saw a shark. Too bad no one has an underwater camera!
The boats anchored off Grecian Rocks for the night, where high waves on a rough sea made them pitch heavily. Showers hit just after 2:00 A.M., sending those sleeping on deck scurrying below. By daylight the sea was even rougher. Several of those assigned galley duty couldn’t fulfill the assignment—on the Shepahoy Brett Summers was the only Explorer who could do the cooking, but there wasn’t much demand for food. On the Maupiti Don Wise and his father looked strangely healthy while the others were turning a little green. Only a few hearty souls didn’t show specific signs of “epigastric awareness,” and there was a feeling that those who didn’t join the general misery weren’t expressing proper brotherhood. One fellow felt so ill he asked for a priesthood blessing, and he seemed relieved after receiving it.
Nevertheless, by 9:00 A.M. both vessels were moving out. Maupiti headed for Rodriguez Key and more snorkeling, while Shepahoy’s crew decided to stop at the underwater statue of the Savior. The figure and base stand about 30 feet tall in a grotto of coral heads, the highest point about ten feet under water. An enormous barracuda seemed to be guarding the site and kept anyone from getting too near to the impressive memorial.
The two vessels rendezvoused again and headed together to Key Largo to fill the ships’ tanks with water and the scuba divers’ tanks with air. Solid ground felt good after the rough seas. Key Largo’s supply of seasickness pills and snack food was perceptibly reduced during the Explorers’ visit.
Back at sea, on the way to Mosquitoe Bank, Miguel, the young professional Scouter who had accompanied the LDS group as an adviser, caught ten lobsters. Lee Burdge, with great delight, caught one of his own, and we had the makings of a feast.
Capturing a lobster by hand requires considerable talent, because they have quick reactions. The lobster hides in crevices at the bottom of reefs, and the hunter, without being seen, has to tickle its tail with a long wire. This causes the lobster to dart from its hole, and the hunter then tries to catch it in his gloved hand, avoiding the sharp and pinching claws.
Wednesday evening rain fell again, postponing the scheduled talent night. Thursday morning the divers found no lobsters, but did spot a large moray eel in the reef and stayed clear of it. Shawn Pergande shot two fish with an air gun, and a six-foot barracuda followed Ray Holt, Wayne Bucklew, and Shawn for about 30 minutes. At 10:45 anchors came up and the two boats headed for Rodriguez Key, in the first of two races held during the trip.
The Maupiti started off slightly behind. Both vessels were beating hard against the wind. The entire crew of the Shepahoy hiked, trying to get the mast straighter and higher. The race had no formal finish because the Shepahoy ripped her genoa and dropped out for repairs. But let it be officially noted that the Maupiti was at least three lengths ahead when the sail tore.
The Maupiti was at anchor when the Shepahoy arrived. As they came alongside, cannoneers suddenly burst from the cabin with buckets and tubs of water balloons. The Maupiti was hit with a full salvo, but its crew had heard rumors of a possible sneak attack and returned the fire. One of the great naval battles of all time ensued—not one that would topple empires, but certainly no more colorful or spirited engagement ever took place. Brother Holt, awakened by the sound of combat, sleepily poked his head out of the cabin and immediately received three direct hits. As ammunition ran low, Doug Lind and Lee Burdge dove into the water to retrieve unburst balloons and came under heavy fire. Boarders from the Shepahoy were repulsed after almost scaling the Maupiti’s anchor chain. The battle lasted 30 minutes, and final victory was inconclusive and much debated for the rest of the trip.
That night, following a delicious feast earned by great heroics, the postponed talent night was finally held. Richard Holt and his father started with a skit, the bishop recited a poem, Donald Harper-Smith and his dad presented another skit, and eventually everyone shared some form of talent before another rain squall, just after the closing prayer, called a halt to the evening.
Friday, 6:10 A.M.—Awoke. Breakfast. Set sail for the statue. Anchored. Divers in the water. Discovered we are at the wrong reef, Cannon Reef. Recovered divers and set sail. Arrived at the statue. Waves too rough for diving. Difficult to handle tanks and flippers on pitching deck. Skipper canceled dive for safety reasons. Set sail for Angelfish Creek and Miami.
10:20 A.M.—We entered the Gulf Stream. The water is deep blue. We expected a lot of fish here. Didn’t find many. Ray caught a barracuda and Richard caught an amberjack. Wayne snagged a lobster trap!
As the two vessels cleared the Angelfish Creek channel, a second race began. Across Biscayne Bay the two beautiful boats darted, beating to windward. The breeze was brisk, the weather exhilarating. Rounds of shouting added to the excitement. The boats were well matched, the crews intensely competitive. Fairness requires, though, that the Shepahoy should be credited with a clear-cut victory.
Anchorage that night was across the bay from Miami. The skyline reflected beautifully in the water. Lobsters tasted better for having been caught by hand. With boats moored together, the combined crews held a testimony meeting, expressing their brotherly love and gratitude. The setting was spectacular and the spirit impressive. Almost everyone had expressed himself when Miguel, who had been quietly listening, asked if he could participate.
“Of course,” he was assured. He said that he felt a wonderful spirit, that he hadn’t felt anything like it since he had been active in his own Catholic Scout troop. He said he had been on cruises with many Explorer posts, but he wanted us to know he felt something special about our group. Everyone was deeply moved.
That night, as the boats rocked gently, everyone slept soundly. In the morning, we would sail up-river to the docks, and our days at sea, for the time being at least, would be over. But we knew it wouldn’t take much prodding to get us to come back again.

Raquel “Liriel” Domiciano was about to sing in front of millions of people. Was she worried about messing up? A little. Was she worried about what to wear? Naturally. But what worried her most?
Only 19 at the time, Liriel, a member of the Church for five years, wanted to stand as a witness “of God at all times and in all things, and in all places” (Mosiah 18:9).
Liriel was about to perform in Brazil’s largest televised talent competition, the Raul Gil Amateur Show. She had been told she couldn’t say anything about her religion. But she knew that many of Brazil’s Latter-day Saints would be watching, and she wanted everyone to know she wasn’t ashamed of the gospel. After praying in her room before her first performance, she looked up and saw her Young Women medallion. It was the answer she had been looking for.
Liriel wore her medallion during every level of the competition. Eventually she and her partner, tenor Rinaldo Viana, won the contest, signed a recording contract, and watched as their first CD became the second-highest classical best-seller in Brazil’s history, with more than one million copies sold.
Almost overnight, Liriel and Rinaldo were a huge hit. But Liriel’s success is based on years of preparation, during which she trained herself as a lyric soprano. She credits her participation in the Young Women program with preparing her for life.
Wearing the medallion as she performed was her way of letting people know she was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and willing to stand as a witness, even in front of millions.

You will remember a tender story told by President James E. Faust. “As a small boy on the farm … , I remember my grandmother … cooking our delicious meals on a hot woodstove. When the wood box next to the stove became empty, Grandmother would silently pick up the box, go out to refill it from the pile of cedar wood outside, and bring the heavily laden box back into the house.”
President Faust’s voice then filled with emotion as he continued: “I was so insensitive … I sat there and let my beloved grandmother refill the kitchen wood box. I feel ashamed of myself and have regretted my [sin of] omission for all of my life. I hope someday to ask for her forgiveness.”
More than 65 years had passed. If President Faust still remembered and regretted not helping his grandmother after all those years, should we be surprised with some of the things we still remember and regret?

I was serving as a missionary in France when the world collapsed and COVID-19 hurled the whole country into a strict lockdown. I have struggled with depression throughout my life, so I worried that the confining circumstances would cause me to slip into a depressive episode. But the first week of quarantine—the week leading up to the historical April 2020 general conference—was one of the most spiritual weeks of my life.
Looking back, the experiences I had that week felt like the Lord was fortifying me for a storm.
Elder Gary E. Stevenson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles gave a talk that conference about the repairs that would be made to the Salt Lake Temple’s foundations. He likened the remodeling to our own lives and asked us to consider this question:
“What are the foundational elements of my spiritual and emotional character that will allow me and my family to remain steadfast and immovable, even to withstand the earthshaking and tumultuous seismic events that will surely take place in our lives?”
As I listened to his talk, the Spirit impressed on me that, like the temple, I was going to be broken down in certain ways during the next period of my life. But I also felt that if I turned to the Lord during these challenges, He would help me strengthen my foundation of faith.
As expected, I soon grew depressed, and it wasn’t long before I felt trapped in an endless cycle of suicidal ideation. I felt torn down mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.
After two months of quarantine, things got a little better. Thanks to changes in my circumstances, like antidepressant medication and the end of lockdown, I started to feel better mentally. But soon after, I started feeling sick and noticed three large lumps at the base of my throat.
At first I ignored the bumps, but when my symptoms worsened, it became clear that I could no longer stay in the mission field. I returned home, where I was promptly diagnosed with blood cancer—Hodgkin’s lymphoma.
Because my antidepressants had a bit of an emotional numbing effect, I felt pretty apathetic as I started six months of chemotherapy.
But even so, I began to break down physically.
A year after my chemotherapy treatment ended, I was starting to feel better physically. I was back at college and making plans. But the searing spiritual pain and numbness I had felt on my mission and during chemotherapy had now turned into a general feeling of indifference about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
I was struggling with my feelings about what I had gone through and felt as if They had abandoned me when I was at my lowest.
But Heavenly Father knew what paths I needed to take so I could heal.
I felt like I was grappling with the rubble and remains of my once-strong faith and my once-vibrant personality. I felt so disconnected from myself. My heart was softening toward the Lord’s attempts to reach out to me, but spiritually I felt guilty, anxious, and unworthy because of my indifference toward the gospel.
After pondering my spiritual health for a few months, I was prompted to make small spiritual changes in my life. I had ignored the pain for a while, but I wanted to address the hurt I felt in my soul because of the challenges I had experienced.
Soon I could see Heavenly Father’s hand in my life. Without knowing how spiritually numb I was feeling, friends and loved ones brought up the topic of healing. One of them even shared a devotional address by Elaine S. Marshall.
Reluctantly, I read it.
I don’t think it was a coincidence that the treatment for my cancer required six months of chemotherapy. The effects of chemo are drastic, dramatic, and demanding. Interestingly, learning to let my body heal physically taught me a key principle of spiritual healing—how to draw upon Jesus Christ’s grace and allow myself time and space to heal my relationship with Him and Heavenly Father.
The first step I took toward spiritual healing was finding a desire to connect with God. Alma taught me how to start when he said, “Exercise a particle of faith, yea, even if ye can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you, even until ye believe in a manner that ye can give place for a portion of my words” (Alma 32:27).
I testify from personal experience that this teaching is true.
Similar to Alma’s experience, my desire to feel the Spirit and the joy of the gospel again set off a whole trajectory shift that took me through the process of healing. Since then, the Savior has helped me to reconcile my past feelings as I’ve learned to let go of my resentments toward God, Him, and my own weaknesses.
Because of Him, parts of myself that I thought I had lost in the mists of my trials—like my personality, my desires, and my love for the gospel—have been returned to me and have made me feel whole, renewed, and restored.
Pain and challenges changed me, but as I found healing through Jesus Christ, I truly rebuilt my foundation of faith on Him. As time passes and I heal, I see that because of Jesus Christ, I can learn to have joy despite my struggles. I now understand that the most important part of going through a trial isn’t what breaks us down or the pain we feel—it’s what follows as we experience healing and reconstruction through the Savior’s grace.

Dad smiled. “Like you, I wanted to keep all the commandments when I was baptized. But I have done many things wrong since then. Just yesterday I lost my patience when you didn’t do your chores right away, remember?”
“Yes.”
“I really wanted to erase my mistake as if it had never happened.”
“So you wanted to get baptized again?” James asked.
“Well, I did want to be clean again,” Dad said. “But I knew that there was another way to get clean again besides getting baptized. I could repent.”
“Is that all?” James asked. “I mean, is repenting the same as getting baptized again?”
“Yes, but there is another part too. Being baptized when you’re eight is something that you do to show obedience and make a covenant to keep the commandments. After that, when you sin, you need to repent and show you really mean to do better.”
James smiled. “You mean by taking the sacrament?”
Dad nodded. “When you take the sacrament you are showing Jesus that you have repented of the things you did wrong that week. And then, as you eat the bread and drink the water, you become clean, and you are ready to start over.”
James remembered the words of the sacrament prayer. Each week he promised to take Jesus Christ’s name upon him—just like when he was baptized. “So I am clean if I repent and then take the sacrament?” he asked.
“That’s exactly right,” Dad said.
“Wow.” James was quiet for a minute. Tomorrow was Sunday. He could take the sacrament then! But he had some work to do first. He wondered if Mom would let him take the Frisbee over to his friend Mark’s house after they got home.
“Dad?”
“Yes, Son?”
“I’m sorry for not doing my chores yesterday. Will you forgive me?”
Dad smiled and hugged James. “Of course I will.”
“In partaking of the sacrament, we can renew the effects of our baptism.”Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, “‘Always Have His Spirit,’” Ensign, Nov. 1996, 61.

Born in Salt Lake City, Tony Finau is the third of ten children. Despite the financial challenges of his large family, Tony’s passion for golf was ignited at a young age, inspired by Tiger Woods’ historic win in 1997.
That same summer, Tony started playing golf, with his father ingeniously building an indoor driving range in their garage using a mattress and netting to catch the balls. This unique setup allowed Tony and his brother to practice relentlessly, laying a foundation of hard work and determination.
Tony’s path to professional golf was not without its hardships. Turning pro at the age of 17 in 2007, he faced numerous obstacles, including six attempts to qualify for the PGA Tour. It wasn’t until 2014 that he finally made it. These years of perseverance and sacrifice prepared him for the success he enjoys today, illustrating his belief that faith is tested and strengthened through experience.
At the fireside, Tony shared several principles from the 4th Article of Faith, particularly emphasising the first principle, faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. He spoke about how his faith has guided him through life’s storms, drawing parallels to the biblical story of Christ calming the storm. Tony recounted personal trials, such as the complicated pregnancy and surgery of his son, Sage, and the tragic loss of his mother in a car accident in 2011. Despite these challenges, Tony’s faith remained unwavering, attributing miracles in his life to his efforts to put the Lord first.
During the fireside, Tony remarked, “Hard work, like building a testimony, requires effort and sacrifice.” He also shared, “Trying to put the Lord first has allowed miracles to occur in my life.” These insights offer a glimpse into the character and conviction that underpin his career.
Beyond his achievements in golf, Tony and Alayna run the Tony Finau Foundation, which is dedicated to empowering youth and their families in the local community. The foundation focuses on providing educational opportunities, promoting health and wellness, and encouraging community service. Through this work, Tony continues to give back, reflecting his commitment to service and his belief in the potential of every individual.
Tony’s dedication to his faith, family and community is evident in every aspect of his life. He and Alayna are committed to raising their children with the same values, ensuring that their faith remains a central focus. Tony’s testimony and experiences serve as a powerful reminder of the importance of perseverance, hard work and faith.
As Tony Finau continues to make his mark on the golfing world, he remains grounded by his faith in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and his heritage. His journey from a garage driving range to the PGA Tour is a testament to his belief that, with faith and determination, any dream can become a reality.

By Oudom Piseth, Cambodia
In order to achieve my goals, I always tell myself that working hard is very important, but another way to excel is by working smart. After my mission in England, I returned to Cambodia and looked at the job market. I looked at things like the length of training to get each job and the cost of training.
I found that the training program to be a clothing merchandiser is short but challenging, and not many people were doing it. I saw it was a good opportunity and decided to take it. I have now finished the program and am working as a merchandiser for a clothing company.
Finding the right career can be very hard, but I have the Savior to help me and lift me up.

“It’s snowing! It’s snowing!” Heather called to her mother, who looked up from feeding her little sister Beth. When Peter comes home, maybe I can go out and play in the snow with him, Heather thought.
Heather remembered last year when everyone told her she was too little to help build a snowman. But not this year! she decided. Heather eagerly looked out the window, waiting for her brother to come home.
Seeing him coming down the driveway, she opened the door. “Let’s build a snowman,” she shouted as he ran inside.
“Sounds great to me,” said Peter with a smile. “Go get your coat and boots on.”
Peter’s friends Sharon and David came over to help, but they didn’t let Heather join the fun. Even when she tried to stick a piece of coal on the head for the snowman’s eyes, Peter said, “No, Heather, you can’t reach. Let me do it.”
Dad brought Beth outside to see the snowman. “Dad, they won’t let me help,” complained Heather.
“Well, I’m sorry, dear, but it looks like the snowman’s finished.”
After supper Dad tried to explain to Peter that Heather was growing bigger every year and that he needed to include her in doing some things. And he tried to explain to Heather that other people forget sometimes when little brothers or sisters are getting old enough to play with older ones.
Heather went to bed right after supper. She listened to the wind blowing outside and watched the snowflakes swirl through the air wherever the wind took them. Soon she was fast asleep.
The next morning, Heather and Peter went to join their friends outside. They soon discovered that during the night the wind had blown the snowman’s hat away!
“Every snowman needs a hat,” Sharon said. “It’s just not a snowman without a hat.”
The children looked everywhere for the hat, but it was not in sight. “We’ll have to spread out,” said Peter. “Each one take a different direction.”
Heather thought about the snowflakes she had watched last night. Although they had made circles of all sizes as they swirled up and around, they seemed to blow mostly in one direction, toward David’s house. She headed that way. I have to find that hat! she decided. If I do, maybe Peter will see how big I am.
Heather walked for a long time. She even went past David’s house, before she saw Mr. Snowman’s hat hanging high on a limb in the oak tree.
How can I get it down? she wondered. Then she had an idea. A snowball!
Heather made a snowball and threw it at the hat. After four tries the hat fell. Heather picked it up and ran to find Peter.
Peter, Sharon, and David were back at the snowman. They were looking sad. “Maybe we could get another hat or something,” suggested David.
“We don’t have to,” Heather called as she held the hat up for them to see.
Sharon started to take the hat from Heather, but Peter stopped her. “If Heather’s big enough to find the hat, she’s big enough to put it on.”
And that’s exactly what she did!

It’s easy to say, “The time isn’t right.” But there is danger in procrastination. Years ago I worked for a man in California. He hired me, he was kind to me, he seemed to regard me highly. I may have been the only Latter-day Saint he ever knew well. I don’t know all the reasons I found to wait for a better moment to talk with him about the gospel. I just remember my feeling of sorrow when I learned, after he had retired and I lived far away, that he and his wife had been killed in a late-night drive to their home in Carmel, California. He loved his wife. He loved his children. He had loved his parents. He loved his grandchildren, and he will love their children and will want to be with them forever.

Now, I don’t know how the crowds will be handled in the world to come. But I suppose that I will meet him, that he will look into my eyes, and that I will see in them the question, “Hal, you knew. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Some years ago a young mother of my acquaintance shared this event in her life. She had been active in youth activities in the ward for several years and was at the time president of the young women. The stake president called one day and asked her to meet with the stake presidency the following Sunday afternoon. With anxiety in her voice and tears close to the surface, she went to her husband and said, I’m afraid they want me for a stake job. I don’t want a stake job. I love the ward. I love the youth in the ward. I love my counselors. I love my job. I don’t want to change.”

Her husband said, “Please go and see what they want. I’ll support you in any assignment.”

Her fears were realized. She was asked to be stake president of the Young Women. Later, the stake president told her that after she had reluctantly accepted the call, he had never seen a more forlorn-looking person walk out of his office.

For over six years she, with the same sisters as counselors, took care of the stake work for the young women. “Those were some of the best years of service for me,” she said. “My horizons expanded. I became acquainted with the wonderful leaders and great young people in our stake. I even had leadership experiences with other fine leaders in the whole valley. Later the opportunity came to serve on a general board. I shudder to think what I would have missed if I had declined the change in assignments.”

Let me tell you of my own experience. As a child, I was blessed with a good and kind but also overly-busy father. He was very active in the Church as well as in politics and often had to leave his family alone.

I had wished that in my future life this would not happen to me again. The man I fell in love with, however, not only kept busy with the Church and politics like my father but he also had to serve for a long time in the Swiss army.

Believe me, there were moments when I was rather furious and, in my thoughts, wanted to abolish politics and the army and to rearrange church affairs so that I would have more time to spend with my husband and our children would have more time to spend with their father. At church, none of the sisters ever complained or talked about these problems because we were afraid of appearing critical.

A talk I heard many years ago by Lois Brown, the wife of a former Presiding Bishop, changed my attitude. She convinced me that I was not alone in my problem and that it was acceptable to talk about being alone and feeling lonely. Sister Brown said that often, even in her later years, she had to fight against feelings of disappointment when a good meal burned while she waited for her husband.

All of a sudden I didn’t feel guilty. I wasn’t ashamed of my feelings anymore; I dared talk about them—not in order to criticize, to wallow in self-pity, or to express anger, but in order to find solutions.

When I first met with the missionaries, I did not understand much of what they said, and to tell you the truth, I may not have paid much attention to them. My heart was closed to a new religion. I wanted only to prove they were wrong and to gain time to convince Renee to marry me anyway.

Today my children have served and are serving missions, and I understand the sacrifices that these young men and young women make to teach the gospel of Jesus Christ. Now I wish I had paid more attention to Elder Richardson, Elder Farrell, and Elder Hyland, the wonderful missionaries who taught me.

Carlitos wiped the tears from his eyes. His mamá had been sick for many months. At last Papá had convinced her to go to the city, many kilometers from their small village in Chile, and see a doctor. After many tests, the doctor said that Carlitos’s mamá had cancer.
Mamá refused to feel sorry for herself. “I still have much to do,” she said.
One day, two young norteamericanos (North Americans) appeared at the door of their small home. “We are from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” one said in halting Spanish.
Mamá listened intently and occasionally asked questions. She accepted the young men’s message immediately. “It is the truth,” she said.
Despite the disease that caused her much pain, Mamá was determined to be baptized and confirmed.
On Saturday morning the family traveled to the small meetinghouse where Elder Metzer baptized her. She shivered as she stepped from the baptismal font.
“Mamá, you are cold,” Carlitos said and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You must go home and get warm.”
Mamá shook her head. “It is not enough. I will stay until I am confirmed. How can I be cold when the gospel warms me?” She was confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Mamá was not content with just that. She was determined that Papá and Carlitos learn of the restored gospel as she had. “If you will pray, you will know the truth of which the missionaries speak,” she told them.
The elders taught them the gospel of Jesus Christ. Papá would have to give up his cigarettes. Carlitos listened to the elders’ teachings and felt peace wrap around his heart. He began to understand the warmth that Mamá had described.
Within a month Papá had stopped smoking. Shortly afterward both Papá and Carlitos were baptized and confirmed. A few weeks later Papá received the Aaronic Priesthood. Carlitos would have to wait three more years before he could receive the priesthood.
Mamá was very weak, but she always managed to go to church and visit those in the village who were sick.
“We are members of God’s Church, but it is not enough,” Mamá told Papá and Carlitos one night.
“What must we do now?” Carlitos asked. He loved learning about the gospel and wanted to live it in every way.
“We must be sealed in the temple,” Mamá said.
The temple in Santiago was the closest one to their home. But they did not have enough money to travel there. Any extra money Papá earned went to buy medicine for Mamá.
So Mamá started a temple jar. She placed it by the door. The coins she collected grew until the family had enough money to make the trip. In the temple their family was sealed for time and all eternity.
Mamá glowed with happiness. “It is enough,” she said.

He never sought Church positions, however, or felt that calls ought to come to him. When Elder Mark E. Petersen of the Council of the Twelve came to Palo Alto to reorganize the stake presidency in 1951, David Haight had served as a bishop’s counselor and was the junior high counselor. He felt sure he did not have the qualities the Lord required in a member of the stake presidency. But the next day he was sustained as stake president.

“He really did a great work while he was Palo Alto Stake president. He could see the growth coming,” says Ruby Haight. He oversaw the construction of a stake center and several chapels and acquired the pieces of land where all but one of the present chapels in the area have been built.

But more important, perhaps, he loved the people and gained their love in return. Richard Sonne, who served as a counselor in the stake presidency (he succeeded President Haight as stake president and later was president of the Oakland Temple), said President Haight “always complimented people. He went out of his way to get acquainted.”

President Haight’s leadership skills were steady. “He would explain to people, ‘This is what we should do,’ and expect them to carry out their responsibility.”

Today, he is known and appreciated throughout the Church for his focus on and ability to train priesthood leaders in the organization and effective use of priesthood councils and quorums.