Gospel Story Finder

Josh W.

As a new deacon, Josh W. of Utah, USA, was asked to teach a lesson about being a disciple of Christ. “I found scriptures about when Peter and others were fishing. They tried one side of the boat and didn’t catch anything,” Josh says. “Then the Savior told them to fish on the other side, and they caught lots of fish (see Luke 5:5–11 and John 21:6–11). So in my lesson, we read that. Then we talked about how it’s like that for us. When we go on our own, we can have trouble. But when we listen to the Lord, He helps us.”

Josh says that learning, teaching, and sharing are important in priesthood quorums. “In Primary we learned a lot and had lots of activities,” he says. “Now we’re learning a lot and sharing. That means doing a lot with what we learn.” For example, after a priesthood lesson, Josh visited a friend who hadn’t been to church for a long time. “His parents work on Sundays, so they don’t come. But I told him he could come with me.”

Josh is learning the purpose of Young Men and Young Women. “It’s to show us how to become more like the Savior,” he says. He knows that the call to “come unto Christ” means moving along a path that started with baptism and confirmation, continues toward the temple, and leads to eternal life.

“I’m ready to move forward,” he says.

It was just past noon when we returned from a spectacular tour of the Acropolis and Mars’ hill where Paul preached to the Athenians. The young people had assisted their not-so-young associates along the rugged terrain among the ancient ruins, not only giving their physical strength, but sharing their excitement and wonder as well. When we returned to the hotel, we were stunned by the news that Greece was at war with Turkey. Cyprus had been invaded by Turkish troops. All of the Greek men between the ages of 18 and 45 were to be mobilized within the next few hours. Suddenly the streets were filled with people. Young men carried small tote bags; neighbors gathered for brief farewells; a woman stood in her doorway weeping as she saw the men leave. She told us her children were too young to go, but she had five brothers who would have to fight.
This was not just a disruption of the afternoon-scheduled tour to Corinth. This was not just the temporary inconvenience of having no other bus at our disposal. Greece was at war! Greece’s borders were sealed. Her harbors were closed. Her airports were shut off. No commercial transportation was allowed in or out of the country. With the shortage of help in the hotel, we were informed that we would receive no further clean linen, there would be no room service, and the waiters from the dining room were gone. Making our own beds would be no problem. Hanging our towels to dry was no inconvenience. But what kind of chaos would the dining room be in without anyone there to help?
Dinner time arrived, and we walked into the dining room. To our delight there seemed to be plenty of help. John seated me at our table, and Jerome filled our water glasses. Carolyn was serving the rolls to other hotel guests, while Virnell followed up with butter. Bonnie was laughing and joking with some of the tourists as she and Diane served them cool beverages. Shelly was clearing dirty dishes from the tables and refilling glasses with ice. Melvin did anything that might have been overlooked—clearing tables, bringing a salad where one was forgotten, or resetting tables for the next group. They had not been asked; they had volunteered. For the duration of our stay in Athens, their service made the dinner hour something to look forward to.

What was the highlight of Kaonu Ly’s trip to Washington, D.C.? Kaonu and several other outstanding students from around the U.S. got to tour government agencies, visit historic sites, and participate in discussions of how government works. She also got to meet Senator Jesse Helms (shown here with Kaonu), the senator from Kaonu’s home state of North Carolina. And although Kaonu loved all of those things, she loved something else even more.
“A sight I will never forget was the Washington D.C. Temple. It was so sacredly beautiful. I felt so proud to be a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” she says.
Kaonu, who is a Laurel in the Albermarle Branch, Charlotte North Carolina South Stake, also used the trip as a missionary opportunity, sharing pamphlets about the Church and the Articles of Faith with the other youth she met.

Tetsuko lived by a high mountain in Japan. She was going to school for the first time. Excited, she dressed quickly in her new school uniform. Then she began to feel sick, and she didn’t feel like eating breakfast.
Okasan (Mother) asked, “Do you feel sick, Tetsuko?”
“Yes. My stomach hurts, and I don’t think I will be able to go to school today.” She started to cry.
Otosan (Father) took her hand in his and said, “I think I know what might be wrong with you. This is your first day of school. You will be away from home all day, and you don’t know what to expect. I had the same feeling when I started my job. Would you like me to give you a special father’s blessing?”
Tetsuko nodded.
Otosan placed his hands upon her head and gave her a blessing. He thanked Heavenly Father for her and for the happiness she brought them. He blessed her to feel better, to not be afraid, and to feel peace in her heart.
Tetsuko left for school. That afternoon she ran into the house, calling “Okasan! Okasan! I’m home. It was fun at school. My teacher is nice, and I met some new friends.”
Her mother pulled her close and said, “I’m happy you had such a good day and that Otosan was able to give you a special blessing.”

One day the ward clerk telephoned me and asked, “Could you come see the bishop on Tuesday night?” I had heard from a neighbor that the local ward had a new bishop, but the news didn’t mean much to me because I had been disfellowshipped years before and had not returned to church. Now I assumed the new bishop wanted to extend a calling to me, and I imagined how awkward we would both feel when I explained my membership status. Still, I didn’t feel right saying no to a bishop, so I agreed to the appointment.
That is how I ended up sitting across the desk from the man who helped change my life forever. The bishop had a wonderful way of letting me know I was truly welcome. We chatted sociably for a little while, and then he asked me how I felt about the Church. I explained that although I didn’t have any hard feelings, I had been disfellowshipped several years before and had been told that if I repeated my transgressions, I would likely be excommunicated. Because I had been unsuccessful in repenting, I had made up my own mind that I was already excommunicated.
The bishop asked me if I felt any desire to discuss with him my present life in relationship to the commandments. At that point, I realized I did want to tell him everything—and it all tumbled out, accompanied by a lot of tears.
When I finished, he asked one simple question: “Will you just come back to church?” I said yes.
The bishop said he would talk to the stake president about whether another disciplinary council needed to take place, and then he would get back to me. It is hard to describe the hope I felt when I left his office. Months later, a Book of Mormon scripture helped me understand what had changed in my life that night: “And if ye have no hope ye must needs be in despair; and despair cometh because of iniquity” (Moro. 10:22). I left the bishop’s office filled with hope that I could repent, hope that I could become a worthy daughter of my Heavenly Father, hope that I could return to live with him one day.

As a further example of rising to life’s challenges as a Christlike child, I’m reminded of one of my father’s experiences in World War II. He was the pilot of a B-17, flying daylight bombing raids over Germany and experiencing and inflicting horrific deaths when he was younger than almost everyone here. Thanks, Dad, to you and to other men and women like you. At one point, after completing a bombing run over Germany, his formation was attacked by German fighters and flack, and his plane lost an engine. This meant that the rest of the formation had to leave them behind since they could not keep up. They knew full well that they would probably be killed because they had lost the protection of the interlocking fields of fire and the protection that a formation with its many guns provided. Then they lost a second engine. B-17s weren’t necessarily able to fly with only two engines, but my dad broke the throttle quadrant and could over-rev the engines, buying time for some airspeed and altitude.

The fighters swarmed to this lone plane, ready to finish it off with relative ease away from the protection of the other gunners and planes. Dad began to pray, and he also thought, “Dad, pray for me.”

In the Gila Valley in Arizona, his father—my grandfather—Ether Samuel Ferrin, got his wife and said, “Leven’s in trouble. We need to pray for him.” They knelt in humble prayer for his safety far across the world. These discrete actors’ stories were obviously pieced together later. My Dad recounts that when they were sure they were going to be destroyed, it seemed as if they suddenly became invisible to the fighters, which would just fly past.

They were able to return home to England with that plane, which Dad safely landed. After that the plane was useless in the war effort. The ground crew presented Dad with the placard from that now useless B-17. He has that placard in his home in the Gila Valley today. The key point for me in recounting this story is that as a courageous child, my father not only prayed but cried out for his father to be alerted and pray as well, because he knew and believed in his father’s faith.

It felt like just a regular morning as I walked to school. But this seemingly unremarkable day in my 13-year-old life turned into something quite different once I got there.
“Did you hear the news?” my friend asked.
“No,” I replied. “What’s going on?”
When we walked into our first class, the teacher had a TV on. That’s when I saw news about the terrible events of the morning of September 11, 2001, in the United States. Hijacked airplanes had been flown into the World Trade Center in New York City and the Pentagon near Washington, D.C. Another plane had crashed in a field in Pennsylvania. Thousands were killed or injured. It was a frightening and tragic day.
At this time, my dad was a fighter pilot aboard an aircraft carrier on a routine six-month deployment for the United States Navy. In the days that followed, I continued to see news about the attacks. I also heard classmates express fear and anger. All this made me anxious about the future and what might happen to my dad.
Hal Murdock, Captain, United States Navy, in the cockpit of an F/A-18F Super Hornet at Naval Air Station in 2008.
General conference was held three weeks later. As I listened, the prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), said that we lived in perilous times, but “the God in whom I believe … is a God of mercy. He is a God of love. He is a God of peace and reassurance, and I look to Him in times such as this as a comfort and a source of strength.”1
In the last session, President Hinckley closed his address with a prayer. He prayed for blessings of faith, love, charity, and “a spirit of perseverance to root out the terrible evils that are in this world.” He prayed that God would give “protection and guidance to those who are engaged actively in carrying forth the things of battle. Bless them; preserve their lives; save them from harm and evil. Hear the prayers of their loved ones for their safety.” He also prayed for God to “spare us and help us to walk with faith ever in Thee and ever in Thy Beloved Son.”2
President Gordon B. Hinckley offering a prayer during the October 2001 general conference.
I had often heard the prophet say that he prays for many things, but this was a unique experience. I had never heard the prophet say an actual prayer in general conference. Hearing the prophet pray brought me comfort I had not felt in weeks. He prayed about my concerns. I felt that he had prayed for my family. While his prayer was for the world, I was amazed that a prophet’s prayer could also be for me.
Several months later, our family received a letter from my dad. He wrote that on the day of President Hinckley’s prayer, he and everyone aboard the aircraft carrier had begun a mission to stop further attacks from those who had attacked America.
“As I have reflected on the prayer offered by the prophet,” my dad wrote, “I have realized several remarkable things. We suffered no injuries or losses during the entire operation. At times, my fellow pilots and I found ourselves many miles away from the carrier, flying over hostile territory on 12-hour missions. When we would return to the aircraft carrier to land our fighter jets at night, the seas and weather remained calm long past the time the weather normally turns poor in that part of the world. To bring everyone home is a miraculous blessing. I know from personal experience that the prayer offered by the prophet in our behalf was answered.”
When I read my dad’s witness of an answer to the prophet’s prayer, the Spirit filled my heart and these words came to my mind: “Look to the prophet, and you will be OK.”
Commander Murdock and his family the day he safely returned home from deployment.

Under the stress and strain of our climate, sometimes people weren’t always at their best. Occasionally neighbors would squabble over one farmer taking too long a turn from the irrigation ditch. That’s how it started with two men who lived near our mountain pasture, whom I will call Chet and Walt. These two neighbors began to quarrel over water from the irrigation ditch they shared. It was innocent enough at first, but over the years the two men allowed their disagreements to turn into resentment and then arguments—even to the point of threats.
One July morning both men felt they were once again short of water. Each went to the ditch to see what had happened, each in his own mind reckoning the other had stolen his water. They arrived at the headgate at the same time. Angry words were exchanged; a scuffle ensued. Walt was a large man with great strength. Chet was small, wiry, and tenacious. In the heat of the scuffle, the shovels the men were carrying were used as weapons. Walt accidentally struck one of Chet’s eyes with the shovel, leaving him blind in that eye.
Months and years passed, yet Chet could not forget nor forgive. The anger that he felt over losing his eye boiled inside him, and his hatred grew more intense. One day Chet went to his barn, took down the gun from its rack, got on his horse, and rode down to the headgate of the ditch. He put a dam in the ditch and diverted the water away from Walt’s farm, knowing that Walt would soon come to see what had happened. Then Chet slipped into the brush and waited. When Walt appeared, Chet shot him dead. Then he got on his horse, went back to his home, and called the sheriff to inform him that he had just shot Walt.
My father was asked to be on the jury that tried Chet for murder. Father disqualified himself because he was a longtime friend of both men and their families. Chet was tried and convicted of murder and sentenced to life in prison.
After many years, Chet’s wife came to my father and asked if he would sign a petition to the governor, asking for clemency for her husband, whose health was now broken after serving so many years in the state penitentiary. Father signed the petition. A few nights later, two of Walt’s grown sons appeared at our door. They were very angry and upset. They said that because Father had signed the petition, many others had signed. They asked Father to have his name withdrawn from the petition. He said no. He felt that Chet was a broken and sick man. He had suffered these many years in prison for that terrible crime of passion. He wanted to see Chet have a decent funeral and burial beside his family.
Walt’s sons whirled in anger and said, “If he is released from prison, we will see that harm comes to him and his family.”
Chet was eventually released and allowed to come home to die with his family. Fortunately, there was no further violence between the families. My father often lamented how tragic it was that Chet and Walt, these two neighbors and boyhood friends, had fallen captive to their anger and let it destroy their lives. How tragic that the passion of the moment was allowed to escalate out of control—eventually taking the lives of both men—simply because two men could not forgive each other over a few shares of irrigation water.

Just off the road on the far end of the island of Tubuai, Ronny Harevaa and his wife, Sandrine, tidy up the ground around a small stone monument. It is dedicated to the memory of Elder Addison Pratt, the first Latter-day Saint missionary to visit this island 450 miles (700 km) south of Tahiti. Addison Pratt grew up in New Hampshire in the United States of America, but at age 19 he became a seafarer. He traveled to what are now the Hawaiian Islands, then sailed the Pacific, Atlantic, Caribbean, and Mediterranean before marrying and settling in New York. In 1838 he and his wife joined the Church. By 1841 they had gathered with the Saints in Nauvoo, Illinois. In May 1843 Addison Pratt was called by the Prophet Joseph Smith to help begin missionary work in the Pacific. On April 30, 1844, he and two other elders, Noah Rogers and Benjamin Grouard, arrived on Tubuai.
The islanders were eager to have a missionary among them, and Elder Pratt remained. He began learning Tahitian and preaching. The first convert was his interpreter, another American. Six of seven sailors on the island were also baptized and confirmed. Then on July 22, 1844—three years before Latter-day Saint pioneers arrived in Utah—the first Polynesian converts were baptized. By February 1845, 60 of the 200 inhabitants of Tubuai had joined the Church. From these beginnings and from the work of Elder Rogers and Elder Grouard on other islands, the Church spread throughout what is now French Polynesia.

I am extremely grateful for these glorious truths—what we call the Father’s plan of salvation, His plan of mercy, or His great plan of happiness. Learning these important truths has helped me know my true identity and the great blessings of exaltation and eternal life God has prepared for us. The prophet Nephi taught us the way: “Wherefore, … feast upon the words of Christ; for behold, the words of Christ will tell you all things what ye should do.” He added, “If ye will enter in by the way, and receive the Holy Ghost, it will show unto you all things what ye should do.” Today I would like to share how the words of Christ and the Holy Ghost helped me find these important peace-giving truths in my teenage years.

Just like Nephi stated in the opening verse of the book of 1 Nephi, I was also “born of goodly parents.” I grew up in Nagano, Japan, in a home where honesty, diligence, and humility were strongly encouraged and conformity to the old customs was strictly followed. My father was a very religious man. I watched him praying in front of the Shinto and Buddhist altars every morning and every night. Even though I had no idea whom he was praying to and what he was praying for, I believed some sort of unseen power or God would be “mighty to save” or help us if we prayed sincerely.

Like other teenagers, I experienced many hardships. I struggled, thinking that life was unfair and had lots of ups and downs. I felt lost, not having a sense of direction in my life. Life seemed so fleeting because it would end when I died. Life without knowing the plan of salvation was confusing.

Not long after I started to learn English in junior high school, all the students in our school received a copy of the New Testament. Though we had barely begun our study of English, our teacher told us we should study English by reading it. I opened it and reviewed its contents. The words in the New Testament were extremely difficult for me. The words in Japanese were equally difficult. However, I was drawn to a list of statements and questions of the soul that had been included just before the biblical text in this Gideon Bible—questions about feeling lonely, lacking confidence, being confused, facing life’s trials, and so on. Each item on the list was followed by a reference to verses and pages in the New Testament. I was especially drawn to the statement “When you are weary.” The reference led me to open Matthew 11:28–30, in which Jesus said to His disciples:
“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
“Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
“For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
This was the first time I remember reading the words of Jesus Christ. Though I did not understand all the words He said, His words comforted me, lifted my soul, and gave me hope. The more I read His words, the more I felt like I should try the virtue of His words. I had never felt like I felt that day. I felt I was loved. I felt that Jesus Christ was someone I knew.
As I continued studying, I felt as though He were speaking directly to me when He said, “Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled.”
His words filled my heart, even though I could not describe my feelings well at that time. Although Jesus Christ lived many centuries ago in a land unfamiliar to me, I thought I could trust His words with all my heart. I hoped someday in the future I might learn more about Jesus Christ.
That someday came only a few years later. I met very dedicated, young, full-time missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. And I soon met a small group of kind and joyful Latter-day Saints striving to follow Jesus Christ. Despite it taking me a while to fully trust them, I came to see in the restored gospel what I yearned for when I studied the New Testament—the words of Jesus Christ and the hope and peace that come from them.

One other particular challenge of our trek was very endearing to me. It involved the women's pull. For those of you who have never been to Martin's Cove, they have one steep, sandy stretch of a hill where only the women pull the handcarts. This was to simulate when the men were called to help in the war and left the women and children to continue the trek westward. This pull is difficult for the women. They have to steer and pull the loaded handcarts in the sand, up the hill, without the men's strength. This is a powerful experience, held in silence in respect for this sacred place. The men line up at the top and observe as the women pull. Once the handcart is pulled to the top, the young women run to help the next in line.
When the pioneers crossed the plains, several sustained injuries or illnesses, making them unable to pull the handcarts. Their traveling companions had to help during these trying times. Our added challenge for this activity was to assign four of the strongest women to be assigned an affliction—such as a broken leg or fever—which would cause them to be pulled inside the handcart instead of helping to pull. One of those assigned to be "afflicted" was the Young Women's leader Sister Angie Kivett.
Angie was the backbone of all these young women; they looked to her for her incredible strength and direction, which she had gained from enduring hard things in her life. She was their cheerleader. She would have been the leader running from handcart to handcart helping to get them to the top.
One of the other "afflicted" was my daughter Rachel. Rachel is very athletic and very strong. I envision her as what I think the Nephite women were like. She knew about and had looked forward to the women's pull, knowing that her strength would help get many of the handcarts to the top. During the trek, she was always found on the front of the handcart where the hardest work was.
When she read her assignment, with tears welling up in her eyes, she looked towards her dad, who also had tears welling up in his eyes. He had chosen her specifically for this assignment. Rachel mouthed, shaking her head, "No, Dad...Don't make me do this...Don't make me do this." Rachel knew she needed to help pull her handcart as the other young women assigned to her handcart were Beehives, small and not as muscularly developed. One of them was actually trekking in an orthopedic walking boot. The thought of them having to pull her in the cart, up the steep hill, was almost more than Rachel could bear.
Obediently, Rachel, Sister Kivett, and a few others climbed into their handcarts and allowed the others to pull them up the steep and sandy hill.
Even after four and a half years, this lesson of doing hard things is still very tender to Rachel. Not being able to help was harder for her than if she would have had to pull the carts by herself.
As I reflect on this experience, I wonder how many times we all shake our heads and plead with our Heavenly Father to "not make me do this" in regards to the hard things we are challenged with.

When I was sixteen, and discovering how important girls were in my life, my father invited me to go with him to girl's camp. We went early one summer morning to take food supplies. WOW... girl's camp where there were two hundred girls my age from our stake. I knew most of them and there were no other boys.

It was still dark when we arrived way up in the mountains and pine trees of their encampment. Quietly, we began to carry boxes of food to the kitchen area. We smelled bacon and eggs cooking for that army of girls, but none were in sight. Then I heard music. The Beatles were my thing then but this was quite different. I could not make it out but it was far away and seemed to go straight to my heart. I stopped and hid behind a tree, as the singing seemed to surround me and get louder. Then I saw. Each camp of girls was coming down to breakfast. They came down the paths from every direction, singing primary songs and it was very special and beautiful. I watched from my hiding place. And then my Heavenly Father opened my eyes and mind to something I had not realized before. I knew these girls. Some were tall, some short. Some had long brown hair and some short blond. But like words in my mind I heard, "Sid, these are all mine. They are all my daughters and they are all beautiful and precious to me. To each one I have endowed or shared my power, the unspeakable power to create bodies for my children." I was stunned at the thought. The power to create. Then the thoughts continued. "Sid, you must never speak lightly or joke about their bodies or their power to create. You must protect their virtue always. You must treat them all with respect and their sacred powers with reverence." Now I was in tears. "If you do as I say, one day you may be worthy to take one of them to my holy temple and to become an eternal partner with her."

This experience changed my life. Dating was different after that, and I became more serious about preparing for a mission.

In the 1960s my father taught at the Church College of Hawaii in Laie, where I was born. My seven older sisters insisted my parents name me “Kimo,” a Hawaiian name. We lived near the Laie Hawaii Temple when it served much of the Church membership of the Asia Pacific Area, including Japan. At this time, groups of Japanese Saints began coming to Hawaii to receive the blessings of the temple.
One of these members was a sister from the beautiful island of Okinawa. The story of her journey to the Hawaii Temple is remarkable. Two decades earlier, she had been married in a traditional arranged Buddhist wedding. Just a few months later, Japan attacked Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, thrusting the United States into a conflict with Japan. In the wake of battles such as Midway and Iwo Jima, the tides of war pushed the Japanese forces back to the shores of her island home, Okinawa, the last line of defense standing against the Allied forces before the heartlands of Japan.
For a harrowing three months in 1945, the Battle of Okinawa raged. A flotilla of 1,300 American warships encircled and bombarded the island. Military and civilian casualties were enormous. Today a solemn monument in Okinawa lists more than 240,000 known names of people who perished in the battle.
In a desperate attempt to escape the onslaught, this Okinawan woman, her husband, and their two small children sought refuge in a mountain cave. They endured unspeakable misery through the ensuing weeks and months.
One desperate night amidst the battle, with her family near starvation and her husband unconscious, she contemplated ending their suffering with a hand grenade, which the authorities had supplied to her and others for that purpose. However, as she prepared to do so, a profoundly spiritual experience unfolded that gave her a tangible sense of the reality of God and His love for her, which gave her the strength to carry on. In the following days, she revived her husband and fed her family with weeds, honey from a wild beehive, and creatures caught in a nearby stream. Remarkably, they endured six months in the cave until local villagers informed them that the battle had ended.
When the family returned home and began rebuilding their lives, this Japanese woman started searching for answers about God. She gradually kindled a belief in Jesus Christ and the need to be baptized. However, she was concerned about her loved ones who had died without a knowledge of Jesus Christ and baptism, including her mother, who died giving birth to her.
Imagine her joy when two sister missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints came to her house one day and taught her that people can learn about Jesus Christ in the spirit world. She was captivated by the teaching that her parents could choose to follow Jesus Christ after death and accept baptism performed on their behalf in holy places called temples. She and her family were converted to the Savior and baptized.
Her family worked hard and began to prosper, adding three more children. They were faithful and active in the Church. Then, unexpectedly, her husband suffered a stroke and died, compelling her to work long hours at multiple jobs for many years to provide for her five children.
Some people in her family and neighborhood criticized her. They blamed her troubles on her decision to join a Christian church. Undeterred by profound tragedy and harsh criticism, she held on to her faith in Jesus Christ, determined to press forward, trusting that God knew her and that brighter days were ahead.
A few years following her husband’s untimely death, the mission president of Japan felt inspired to encourage the Japanese members to work toward attending the temple. The mission president was an American veteran of the Battle of Okinawa, in which the Okinawan sister and her family had suffered so much. Nonetheless, the humble sister said of him: “He was then one of our hated enemies, but now he was here with the gospel of love and peace. This, to me, was a miracle.”
Upon hearing the mission president’s message, the widowed sister desired to be sealed to her family in the temple someday. However, it was impossible for her, due to financial constraints and language barriers.
Then several innovative solutions emerged. The cost could be reduced by half if members in Japan chartered an entire plane to fly to Hawaii in the offseason. Members also recorded and sold vinyl records entitled Japanese Saints Sing. Some members even sold homes. Others quit their jobs to make the trip.
The other challenge for members was that the temple presentation was not available in Japanese. Church leaders called a Japanese brother to travel to the Hawaiian temple to translate the endowment ceremony. He was the first Japanese convert after the war, having been taught and baptized by faithful American soldiers.
When the endowed Japanese members living in Hawaii first heard the translation, they wept. One member recorded: “We’ve been to the temple many, many times. We’ve heard the ceremonies in English. [But] we have never felt the spirit of … temple work as we feel it now [hearing it] in our own native tongue.”
Later that same year, 161 adults and children embarked from Tokyo to make their way to the Hawaii Temple. One Japanese brother reflected on the journey: “As I looked out of the airplane and saw Pearl Harbor, and remembered what our country had done to these people on December 7, 1941, I feared in my heart. Will they accept us? But to my surprise they showed greater love and kindness than I had ever seen in my life.”
Upon the Japanese Saints’ arrival, the Hawaiian members welcomed them with countless strands of flower leis while exchanging hugs and kisses on the cheeks, a custom foreign to Japanese culture. After spending 10 transformative days in Hawaii, the Japanese Saints bid their farewells to the melody of “Aloha Oe” sung by the Hawaiian Saints.
The second temple trip organized for Japanese members included the widowed Okinawan sister. She made the 10,000-mile (16,000-km) journey thanks to a generous gift from missionaries who had served in her branch and had eaten many meals at her table. While in the temple, she shed tears of joy as she acted as a proxy for her mother’s baptism and was sealed to her deceased husband.

Several years ago, I went on my first assignment as a newly called General Authority Seventy. Elder Ronald A. Rasband of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles was my senior companion and it was a chance for me to observe and to learn as he presided over a stake conference in Minnesota. On Saturday, we had a meeting with many wonderful sisters from the auxiliaries in the stake. The chapel and cultural hall were filled as these sisters came, anxious to be taught and edified by an apostle of the Lord. The teaching by Elder Rasband was inspired and focused on Christ. At a certain point, while Elder Rasband was conducting this session in a question-and-answer format, I felt a strong spiritual impression as a sister asked a question, recalling a personal experience that would have been a perfect response. At that very moment, while Elder Rasband was standing at the pulpit, he turned to me and asked, “Elder Palmer, is there something you want to say?” I marveled and asked myself, “How did he do that?”
A couple of years later while in a question-and-answer session with leaders and wives in Johannesburg—led by Elder David A. Bednar, of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles—I once again had the exact same experience. A long time after the meeting had started and while sitting quietly some distance away, I again felt a spiritual prompting regarding a question asked and felt an impression that it should be shared but did not want to interrupt. At that precise moment Elder Bednar turned to me and asked if there was something I wished to add. Once again, after giving my response, I silently asked myself, “How did he know to do that? How did he know at the very instant an impression had been received by someone else, that he should turn to them and invite them to share it?” The next day I told Elder Bednar what had happened and asked, “How did you do that?” He simply smiled and said, “You know the answer.”
Earlier in the week, we had been together in Kinshasa for an amazing young adult meeting, which filled every room in the stake center and overflowed into a large outdoor seating area. The questions were excellent and the teaching so inspired. I was sitting off to one side when—during the second hour of the meeting—Elder Bednar came over and quietly whispered for me to go into one of the other rooms where young adults were watching by broadcast, and ask if anyone had a question they would like to ask Elder Bednar. I entered one of the rooms where they were reverently watching, and as I began to ask if anyone had a question, they pointed to a bishop who was walking up to me and who then handed me half a dozen pages of questions he had already collected from all the rooms. I was astonished and asked why he did that (knowing no one had told him to do so). He simply said he knew we would be coming and felt it was the right thing to do. The Lord is in charge and through His Spirit clearly orchestrated all aspects of that extraordinary experience with thousands of excited young adults so anxious to see and learn from an Apostle of the Lord.
These personal spiritual experiences and many others have affirmed to me the divine nature of the calling held by those we sustain as prophets, seers and revelators. Time and time again I have watched as they are clearly moved on by the power of the Spirit of the Lord. I am thankful for this personal witness.
This personal witness is available to each of us as we listen to the words of our prophets and apostles in general conference and read and study what they have prepared for us under the influence of the Spirit. I invite all to gain this witness and promise that the Spirit will confirm that their teachings, their warnings, their invitations and their promises are from the Lord. After all, it was He who said: “What I the Lord have spoken, I have spoken and … my word … shall all be fulfilled, whether by mine own voice or by the voice of my servants, it is the same” (D&C 1:38).
Several years ago, for a couple of months I had the privilege and blessing of almost daily associating with His chosen servants in various councils and assignments, so I found myself thinking often of the sacrifices and great service given by these humble servants and their families. At that time, I remember coming across this powerful testimony given by Elder Spencer J. Condie of the Seventy in 1993. This testimony moved me deeply as it so beautifully describes the feelings of my heart as I have come to know, respect, love and revere our prophets and apostles:
“I am grateful for these Brethren whom we sustain as prophets, seers, and revelators who forewarn us … [They] preach ‘not with enticing words of man’s wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power’ (1 Corinthians 2:4). Their motives are pure as they strive to build the kingdom of God and to uplift and edify the Saints of God. In the words of the Apostle Paul, they have become ‘prisoners of Christ’ (see Ephesians 3:1, 4:1; Philemon 1:1, 9; 2 Timothy 1:8), whose only desire is to do the Lord’s will. Nothing more. Nothing less. And nothing else. These are men of God! May we heed their warning voices”.

I’ll never forget one high school football game against a rival school. I played the wingback position, and my assignment was to either block the linebacker or try to get open so the quarterback could throw me the ball. The reason I remember this particular game so well is because the fellow on the other side of the line—the man I was supposed to block—was a giant.
I wasn’t exactly the tallest athlete in the world. But I think this other guy may have been. I remember looking up at him, thinking he probably weighed as much as two of me. Keep in mind, when I played we didn’t have the protective gear that players have today. My helmet was made of leather, and it didn’t have a face guard.
The more I thought about it, the more I came to a sobering realization: if I ever let him catch me, I could be cheering for my team the rest of the season from a hospital bed.
Lucky for me, I was fast. And for the better part of the first half, I managed to avoid him.
Except for one play.
Our quarterback dropped back to pass. I was open. He threw the ball, and it sailed towards me.
The only problem was that I could hear a lumbering gallop behind me. In a moment of clarity, I thought that if I caught the ball there was a distinct possibility I could be eating my meals through a tube. But the ball was heading for me, and my team was depending on me. So I reached out, and—at the last instant—I looked up.
And there he was.
I remember the ball hitting my hands. I remember struggling to hang on to it. I remember the sound of the ball falling to the turf. After that, I’m not exactly sure what happened, because the giant hit me so hard I wasn’t sure what planet I was on. One thing I did remember was a deep voice coming from behind a dark haze: “Serves you right for being on the wrong team.”
William McKinley Oswald was my high school football coach. He was a great coach and had a profound influence on my life. But I think he could have learned his method of motivating players from an army drill sergeant.
That day, during his half-time speech, Coach Oswald reminded the whole team about the pass I had dropped. Then he pointed right at me and said, “How could you do that?”
He wasn’t speaking with his inside voice.
“I want to know what made you drop that pass.”
I stammered for a moment and then finally decided to tell the truth. “I took my eye off the ball,” I said.
The coach looked at me and said, “That’s right; you took your eye off the ball. Don’t ever do that again. That kind of mistake loses ball games.”
I respected Coach Oswald, and in spite of how terrible I felt, I made up my mind to do what Coach said. I vowed to never take my eye off the ball again, even if it meant getting pounded to Mongolia by the giant on the other side of the line.
We headed back onto the field and started the second half. It was a close game, and even though my team had played well, we were behind by four points late in the fourth quarter.
The quarterback called my number on the next play. I went out again, and again I was open. The ball headed towards me. But this time, the giant was in front of me and in perfect position to intercept the pass.
He reached up, but the ball sailed through his hands. I jumped high, never taking my eye off the ball; stabbed at it; and pulled it down for the game-winning touchdown.
I don’t remember much about the celebration after, but I do remember the look on Coach Oswald’s face.
“Way to keep your eye on the ball,” he said.
I think I smiled for a week.

When our son Nathan turned two and a half, we began using occasional time-outs as a consequence for breaking family rules. I became concerned, however, by the negative feelings my son displayed when a time-out concluded. He often seemed sad and discouraged. As I prayed for a way to make the experience more positive, I felt impressed to say the phrase “Let’s try again.”
After the next time-out, I took my son’s hand and said with enthusiasm, “Let’s try again!” Suddenly the focus shifted away from his negative behavior and centered instead on the opportunity he had to start over. I was amazed at the difference this approach made. Instead of coming out of time-out feeling punished, he was eager to make better choices.
I soon started using the phrase in a multitude of situations. I found myself inviting Nathan in lots of ways: “Let’s try again! This time we can do better. This time we can be gentle” or “This time we can be kind.”
The saying became such a motivator for my son that during a time-out he often called to me, “Mommy, I am ready to try again!”
As I pondered the dramatic effect this simple phrase had on my son, I considered the power contained in the words “Let’s try again!” I realized that God, the Father of us all, does not want us to dwell hopelessly on the mistakes we have made. Instead, He invites us to sincerely repent and focus on a brighter future where we can improve each day. To make repentance possible, God was even willing to offer the life of His Beloved Son. His promise is: “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool” (Isaiah 1:18).
Watching my son’s renewed determination to do better, I felt a surge of gratitude for a loving Father in Heaven, who is merciful to His children when they repent. I also felt a deep appreciation for the Savior, whose infinite Atonement makes it possible for each of us to say, “Let’s try again!”

The reality of professional singing, which included being absent from my family for up to eight weeks at a time during touring productions, was like a splash of cold water. The old, nagging questions surfaced. What had I done? Had I left my job and dragged my little family far away from the security of a comfortable life for this? Had I really acted upon inspiration or should I let my dreams die and simply bury them? Things were definitely not turning out the way we had envisioned, and for the first time I was really afraid.

When I took these doubts and fears and laid them at the Lord’s feet, the answer to our dilemma came as dramatically and miraculously as our directive to leave Overton. During one of our long-distance telephone conversations I told my wife about several of my colleagues in the touring group that had spent some time in Europe. There it was possible to be a member of an opera company, keep regular hours, have health and retirement benefits, and, best of all, stay in one place. It sounded like a dream come true. We had only one problem: how would we finance an audition tour to Europe?

Absolutely no one knew of our conversation. A short time after our talk and heartfelt prayer, a dear friend called. To my utter amazement he brought up the subject of a European audition tour and offered to finance the trip. With tears of joy and unbelievable gratitude we thanked our Heavenly Father for such an incredible miracle and the generosity of such a spiritually sensitive friend. I made my reservations shortly thereafter, boarded the plane in New York, and three weeks later miraculously had a job in a beautiful city, the oldest city in Germany: Trier.

As I reflected on the times in my life when I was immersed in the scriptures, unvaryingly I was keeping a study journal in which I wrote impressions and scripture passages that inspired me. So I found a notebook and a pen and put them with my scriptures. At first, writing about what I read was a chore; it took too much time and effort. Really, I just wanted to have a spiritual snack and then move on with my daily work. But I persisted, and the scriptures came alive. I found myself thinking, dissecting passages, and applying them to my life. Simple phrases provided solutions to perplexing parenting problems. I soon found I could take notes, and it didn’t really take any longer than reading alone. I have also found that as I reread past reflections, I find answers to current questions and concerns. It is as if the Lord gives me insight a couple of weeks before I need it.
Erica Miller, Utah, USA

Roger Stanton is enthusiastic about the JustServe programme. What started as a volunteer position in his Sheffield congregation of the Church has turned into a full-time mission.
In January 2020, Roger and his wife, Sue, eagerly accepted the assignment to promote JustServe throughout England. JustServe is a website that links volunteers with needs in the community. The Stantons’ responsibility is to contact national charities, discover their needs for volunteers, and enter information on the JustServe website.
As Roger studied the guidelines from the Church, he noted that full-time volunteers should spend eight to ten hours a week helping in the community. He began to feel that example might be the best way to invite others to serve more. The more charities he added to JustServe, and the more he tried to recruit volunteers, the more he felt he should follow that advice and set a proper example.
Roger signed on to the website and, being a heart-attack survivor, chose to volunteer with the British Heart Foundation. He was contacted by the shop manager and started training the following week.
COVID-19 precautions were in place throughout the store, and Roger was assigned to greet customers as they entered. In his friendly welcome, he encouraged them to follow the safety guidelines. Being a very social person who loves to meet others; he laughs that his assignment was “to chat with people!”
Roger sports a waistcoat of colourful frogs with a matching face mask designed by Sue. “It brings a smile on people’s faces,” he quips. And it brings a smile to his face as he shares thoughts on chatting to wonderful people.
As we emerge from lockdown, Roger looks forward once again to welcoming customers into the shop. He encourages all who wish to serve in the community to, “Download the JustServe app. Select a charity and press the volunteer button. Spend a few hours in a worthwhile cause. It’s where the fun starts.”

When my mother was sixteen, one Sunday her Sunday School teacher taught about the concept of love. She invited all the youth in the class to go home and tell their parents that they loved them.
My mother listened and laid hold upon the words of her teacher. After the class ended, she waited for her classmates to leave and then said to her teacher, “I can’t do what you asked me to do. I can’t tell my father I love him.”
You see, at the time her father was a mechanic on an army base. He wasn’t active in the Church. And he was often rough, gruff, and mean, just as you might expect from an army mechanic. At that time, “I love you” was not something they said to each other in their family.
“Well,” the teacher said, “you have to do it. Your father—especially your father—needs to hear those words from you. He deserves your unconditional love.”
So my mom went home. All week the words of her teacher stayed with her. Finally, on Saturday night, knowing she would be facing her teacher the next day, my mom found her courage.
Her father had just walked into the kitchen to put out his cigarette. My mom got up her courage and blurted out the words “Dad, I have something to tell you. I love you.”
With those words, her father turned around with his back toward my mom and leaned against the fridge with his head bowed down. My mom thought he was angry. He just stood there, back turned and head down.
Then my big, burly grandfather turned around, and he was weeping. My mom hesitated, and then she stepped over to him. He wrapped his arms around her and said, “I love you.”
As long as she could remember, this was the first time that he had hugged her and said those words to her.
It was then, with those words, that my grandfather’s heart began to soften. Years later, when I would visit my grandfather, the first thing he would do was hug me and tell me he loved me. When I knew him, he was a faithful member of the Church. I wonder what would have happened if my mother had not laid hold upon the words of her Sunday School teacher.
When my mother laid hold upon the word and acted on it, my grandfather did the same: he laid hold upon her words. And that opened the door for other significant blessings in their life.