Gospel Story Finder

Today is Eli’s birthday. He is four years old.
In four more years, you will be baptized.
And four years after that, you will be a deacon and you will be able to pass the sacrament.
Later, Mom helped Eli change from his pajamas into his church clothes.
Do deacons wear superhero pants to church?
No. Deacons wear nice pants.
Do deacons wear superhero shirts to church?
No. Deacons wear white shirts and ties.
I want to wear a white shirt and nice pants. I want to dress like a deacon.
Mom helped Eli put on his nice pants, a white shirt, and a tie.
At church, Eli folded his arms as he watched the deacons pass the sacrament.
When a deacon brought Eli the sacrament, Eli took a piece of bread and then handed the tray to Mom.
Mom smiled at Eli. He was happy to help. He felt just like a deacon.

After the closing prayer, I carefully watched Sister Forester, the Primary president. Because I’m deaf, she always smiles and nods at me when it is time for my Merrie Miss class to leave Primary. Her lips shape the words, “You may leave now.”
But Sister Forester’s mouth formed different words this time. “Melissa, please stay after Primary.”
I watched the other girls move by in their pastel and print dresses. Why was I supposed to stay? I hadn’t done anything wrong. Or had I?
I usually have to read the lips of people at church, but Sister Forester knows sign language. She told me once that her sister was deaf. Now she beckoned me to meet her on the Primary stand. I sat down beside her. The scent of her perfume tickled my nose. Then she moved her lips. “Would you sing for our special Father’s Day program next month?”
Something in my stomach turned to a hard lump, and I felt the blood rush to my face. Was Sister Forester making fun of me? She knew that I couldn’t sing. Even when I tried talking, other children sometimes made fun of the sounds that came from my throat.
Every Sunday I ached inside when all the other children sang and I had to sit there on the hard metal chairs in silence. I learned the words, and tried to imagine what music was. But I knew that as long as I lived, I would never sing a word. There was no music for a deaf person.
But looking into Sister Forester’s eyes now, I saw only kindness. I knew she wasn’t joking. Quickly I signed, “I can’t sing. I’m deaf.”
Sister Forester reached out her hand. I felt the back of her fingers touch my cheek. Then her mouth formed the words, “I don’t want you to sing with your voice. I want you to sing with your hands. Would you sign the words to the first verse of ‘I Believe in Christ’ while the other children sing them?”
The knot in my stomach tightened. I knew she was trying to be kind, trying to find something for me to do, but it would be so hard. How would I know how fast to move my arms, when to start, when to stop? I asked Sister Forester, and she said that she would give me special signals.
I told her I would think about it and talk to my parents.
Sister Forester smiled, then signed, “Could you talk to Heavenly Father, too, since it’s His Son you will be singing about?” Then her lips moved again. “If He doesn’t want you to do it, that’s OK.”
I felt relieved. Sister Forester wouldn’t force me, and I knew my parents would let me choose. I promised that I would pray about it. I thought that Heavenly Father wouldn’t want me to look silly in church, either.
But when I asked Heavenly Father, His Spirit came through the silence and warmed my heart, and I knew that I should do it.
“But I’m scared,” I told Him. “What if everyone laughs at my funny signs?” Then I cried.
I practiced hard for the next month. One day each week I went to Sister Forester’s house. She had been a dancer, and she taught me to move my arms and hands in slow, soft motions as I signed the words. She said that the movements were like music and that with practice I could turn my signs into a gorgeous melody. Her words were kind, but I wasn’t sure.
When I woke up the morning of the program, I wanted to be sick. I lay in bed and buried my face in my pillow. I thought about how silly I would look as I waved my arms around. To people who didn’t understand sign language, I would look like an octopus.
Dad must have guessed that I was having trouble. He came in my room and sat on the edge of the bed. His eyes smiled kindly. “Are you afraid?” he asked.
I nodded.
He held out his arms. I rolled over and sat up. Dad’s arms wrapped around me. Then gently he pushed me back so that I could see his face. “Sister Forester told me that you remind her of an angel when you sing ‘I Believe in Christ’ your way. She believes that the ward members will enjoy your song very much.”
Dad’s words didn’t seem to help, but having him close to me did. His lips moved again. “If you become frightened, just remember Whom you are singing about.”
Even you don’t understand, Dad, I thought. Moving your hands isn’t singing at all.
An hour later I was standing at the podium in front of a microphone I wouldn’t use. My mouth was dry. The ward members filled the chapel, and the clock on the back wall seemed to have stopped. Sister Forester was signaling that it was nearly time for me to start.
I lifted my arms. They felt like wriggly worms that didn’t want to obey my head. My heart pounded, and I wasn’t sure that I could remember all the movements Sister Forester had taught me. The atmosphere around me seemed thicker than usual. Why couldn’t I hear? Why couldn’t I sing like other children?
Sister Forester gave me the signal, and I began moving my arms and hands to her rhythm. “I believe in Christ …”
I saw Sister Forester smile, and Dad’s words came to me: “Remember Whom you are singing about.” A warmth came into my heart. I pushed the fear away and sang the only way I knew how.
Sister Forester and I worked together, just as we had practiced. My hands moved effortlessly as I signed the words. But I wasn’t performing. I was bearing my testimony through song. Finally I signed the last words: “Good works were His; His name be praised.”
Finished, I looked down from the stand. Everyone’s eyes seemed to be on me. I saw tears on the cheeks of gray-haired Brother Hansen. Sister Frankel was dabbing her eyes under her glasses with a handkerchief. Sister Forester smiled like she does in Sharing Time when she’s trying not to cry. Even Mom and Dad were wiping tears off their smiling faces.
Then I knew why Sister Forester and Heavenly Father had asked me to do this. It was to teach me that songs about the Savior come from the heart, not the lips or the hands. Now I know that He hears the songs of all the silent children in the world. He always has. He always will.

Sister Cook was parked in the driveway, the engine of her car running. Molly hurriedly finished putting on her Sunday shoes and ran for the front door.
She stopped suddenly. Her scriptures were not on the table next to the door. “Where are my scriptures?” she called to her mother who was sitting in the living room.
“I don’t know. Sorry, honey.”
“They were right here,” Molly insisted. “Somebody moved them.”
“I guess you’ll have to find them later.”
Molly yanked open the door and ran to the waiting car. “Justin probably grabbed my scriptures,” she muttered angrily.
Three-year-old Justin liked snooping in his sister’s belongings. Her homework and books and baseball equipment were always disappearing. Later she would find them in the strangest places. Her soccer shin guards ended up in the refrigerator once. Justin had put them in the vegetable bin. Sometimes it was funny.
But it wasn’t funny today. It never was on Sundays. Even though her Valiant A teacher picked her up every week for church, Molly felt like she was alone. She was the only child in the ward whose family didn’t go to church with her.
On Saturday nights she set her alarm clock for 7:00 A.M. When it went off, she got up and took a quiet bath and fixed her own breakfast. Everybody else was still asleep, although sometimes Justin came out to the kitchen in his pajamas and ate a bowl of cereal with her.
By the time she left, Mom and Dad would be in the living room, reading the Sunday newspaper, its pages spread out all over the couch. Later they would play tennis. In her mind Molly could imagine them hitting the ball back and forth across the net, laughing and enjoying the cool fall weather. Justin would be running after the stray balls and giggling.
Her parents never stopped her from going to church, but they never went with her, either. Most of the time Molly tried not to mind. But sometimes it hurt.
Mom and Dad came to a meeting at church only once—to see her baptism. Molly had insisted that she wanted to be baptized. She had been awfully disappointed because her father wasn’t the one to baptize her. And afterward her parents had left without staying to visit with the other people in the ward who had attended.
Sister Cook always told Molly to give her family time to feel more comfortable with the ward members. Someday her parents would regain their testimonies that the gospel was true and would come back to church.
One Sunday morning Sister Cook had given a lesson about the bishop and the ward family. The bishop was like a father to the ward, she had said. He was there to help the ward members—to help and counsel them, just as a father does. The members of the church were like brothers and sisters, and they could be like one big, happy family.
Thinking of that had helped for a while, but when she looked around the chapel at all the families sitting together, Molly again felt sad. It just wasn’t the same sitting next to Sister Cook’s family during sacrament meeting.
Today, at the end of Primary, the Primary president, Sister Miller, passed out the speaking parts for the Children’s Sacrament Meeting Presentation. She gave Molly a folded slip of paper and winked at her. The paper read: “Your topic is ‘Because Heavenly Father and Jesus love me, they have given me a special earthly family.’ Tell two or three reasons why your family is special to you.”
Molly read the paper twice on the way home. She felt as if someone had knocked the breath out of her. Why did Sister Miller give me a talk about families? I can’t do this assignment. Doesn’t she know how I feel? My family isn’t active at all. They don’t even like church! It isn’t fair!
When Sister Cook pulled up to her house, Molly mumbled good-bye, slammed the car door, and ran up the sidewalk. The entry hall shook when she slammed the front door too.
“What’s wrong, dear?” Mom asked. Still wearing her tennis clothes, she was putting the rackets and balls in the hall closet.
“Nothing.” Molly started for her bedroom, then turned back to look at her mother. “I have a part in the Primary Sacrament Meeting Presentation. I’ll get to speak at the pulpit, just like the bishop.”
“That’s nice.”
“It’s in three weeks. Will you and Dad and Justin come and hear me give my talk?”
“I don’t know,” Mom said. “We’ll see.” She smiled and went into the kitchen to fix lunch.
That’s what Mom had said last year when Molly had had a part in the Book of Mormon program. But they hadn’t gone.
Molly almost crumpled up her piece of paper and threw it in the wastebasket. Then she remembered last year when she had told the story of Nephi building the ship. Nephi had believed that the Lord would help him, and he had prayed for guidance to build a ship so that he and his family could cross the ocean. Well, that’s what she would do too. Just like Nephi, she would pray for help and the Lord would help her.
Suddenly Molly had a warm, peaceful feeling. She felt that the spirit of the Holy Ghost was with her, just as she had been promised.
As she spent the next three weeks preparing and practicing her talk, she started noticing the many things that her parents did for her and how much they loved her.
Mom fixed her favorite snacks, helped her with science projects, and always rushed to hug her when she came home from school. Dad played soccer and softball with her, and at bedtime he would tell her the most wonderful stories. It was always a warm, special time for just the two of them. Even though Justin sometimes seemed like a pest, she was happy that he was her brother. They sang funny songs and giggled, read books, and played at the park together.
Finally the day of the program came. Sister Cook picked her up, and she sat in her assigned seat near the pulpit.
When the Primary children sang “I Am a Child of God” and “I Lived in Heaven,” Molly felt close to her ward “family.” And she remembered how much Heavenly Father loved her. She had three wonderful families—a heavenly family, a ward family, and an earthly family!
When it was her turn to go to the microphone, Sister Cook gave her an encouraging smile. And when she started her topic, saying, “Because Heavenly Father and Jesus love me, they have given me a special earthly family.” Molly was glad that Sister Miller had given her this talk. She didn’t feel hurt or angry anymore about going to church alone. Even though they didn’t come to church with her, she really did have a special earthly family.
Just then the back door to the chapel opened. Molly’s heart began to pound as Mom, Dad, and Justin quietly walked into the chapel and found a place to sit. They smiled at her, and she couldn’t help grinning back. She started her talk over again: “Because Heavenly Father and Jesus love me, they have given me a special earthly family.” And she knew that it was true.

Suppose your friend invites you to become part of his new life-style. Since you now must set an example for him, the only right response to this invitation is blunt honesty—preferably honesty that leaves a better choice open to him: “You know I’m your friend, but you also know better than to give me that kind of invitation. I’ll call you next week about tennis.”

In 1856, Julia and Emily Hill, sisters who had joined the Church as teenagers in England and been disowned by their family, had finally earned passage for their way to America and had almost reached their longed-for Zion. They were crossing the American plains with the Willie handcart company when they and many others were stranded on the trail by an early October storm. Sister Deborah Christensen, a great-granddaughter of Julia Hill, experienced this touching dream about them. She said:

“I could see Julia and Emily stranded in the snow on the windy summit of Rocky Ridge with the rest of the Willie handcart company. They had no heavy clothing to keep them warm. Julia was sitting in the snow, shaking. She could not carry on. Emily, who was freezing as well, knew that if she did not help Julia stand up, Julia would die. As Emily wrapped her arms around her sister to help her up, Julia began to cry—but no tears came, only soft whimpering sounds. Together they walked slowly to their handcart. Thirteen died that terrible night. Julia and Emily survived.”

Sisters, without each other, these women probably would not have lived. In addition, they helped others survive this devastating portion of the journey, including a young mother and her children. It was Emily Hill Woodmansee who later wrote the beautiful words to the song “As Sisters in Zion.” The verse “We’ll comfort the weary and strengthen the weak” takes on new meaning when you imagine her experience on the snow-packed plains.

One winter morning I awoke to several inches of snow. A native of central California, I was not accustomed to snow and was dreading the uphill walk to the temple. But instead of rationalizing and staying home, I put on warm boots, carried my church shoes, and started my walk to the temple.
When I arrived, I was greeted by a familiar temple worker who was pleased to see that I had made the trek despite the gloomy weather. Once inside, I felt a sense of triumph mixed with gratitude. I realized, just as the prophet had asked, that I had become “a temple-attending and a temple-loving” person.

Again, faith overcame doubt, and thousands were baptized. In England, Elder Wilford Woodruff found an entire community awaiting his arrival. The Spirit of the Lord fell upon them, and he baptized 45 preachers and several hundred members during his first month at Benbow farm.8

Abbie giggled. Happy, wiggly puppies hopped and flopped all around her. Which one should she pick?
A black puppy with a white spot on his chest ran over to her. He wagged his tail and licked her hand. And Abbie knew. He was the one! She scooped him up.
“This one, Dad!” Abbie gently hugged the warm, squirming puppy. “Let’s call him Spotty.”
When they got home, Abbie’s brother and sister were excited to meet Spotty. Spotty wagged his tail and rolled over for a tummy scratch. When Dad put the dog bowl down, Spotty buried his head in the food!
Later Dad and Abbie took Spotty for a walk. Dad gave Abbie the leash.
“Hold on tight,” Dad said. “Spotty might get scared and try to run away. You need to make sure he feels safe.”
“OK, Dad.” Abbie was bouncing up and down. She couldn’t wait!
They walked down the street. Well, Abbie and Dad walked. Spotty pranced. He sniffed bushes. He barked at squirrels. Every few minutes, he looked back at Abbie and Dad.
Soon they came to a house with three big dogs. The dogs growled and barked wildly from behind the fence.
Spotty froze. Abbie tried to pull him forward, but he wouldn’t budge.
“It’s OK. They can’t get to you,” she said softly. “You’re safe.”
Spotty just whimpered.
“Maybe you should carry him,” Dad said. Abbie picked Spotty up and walked across the street. He was shaking. When they couldn’t see the dogs anymore, Spotty calmed down. He licked Abbie’s face, and she set him down.
A few minutes later, Spotty started to slow down. His head drooped. He lay down on the sidewalk.
“Come on,” Abbie said. “We’re almost home.”
Spotty blinked at Abbie. He sighed.
“Aw. Too tired, buddy?” Abbie laughed. She picked him up again. This time she carried him the whole way home. Dad offered to help, but Spotty wasn’t very heavy. And Abbie loved him and wanted to take care of him.
That Sunday, Abbie’s Primary teacher talked about Jesus Christ.
“Jesus loves us so much that He suffered for us,” Sister Oliver said. “He felt all our sorrows so He could understand how we feel. That way, He can carry us through our trials.”
Abbie thought about how she had carried Spotty. That’s kind of how Jesus helps us, Abbie thought. Jesus might not really carry her, but He helped her feel stronger when she needed Him. Like the other night, when she was afraid of the dark. She had prayed and felt safe. Or when she was worried that she might forget her homework. She had prayed then and felt better—and she remembered it!
Abbie smiled. She knew that Jesus Christ loved her even more than she loved Spotty. And that was a lot!

Later, almost by chance while reading an obscure book, I made a discovery. There were still in existence two pillars, with the original capitals still crowning them, that had been part of the portico of Solomon’s temple. It took special permission from the Arab Religious Council to gain access to them, and then I could only get as close as the open mesh of a wire fence. In breathless silence I looked at a fragment of the glory that was Israel 3,000 years ago. Now they stand in a storage room crowded with empty chairs, silent sentinels of a glorious past.

Kenji Nishibori, 17, of the Sugamo Branch, learned of the restored gospel from his older brother. “I knew he was attending meetings, but I was afraid to go to his church,” Kenji said. “Then about five months later, I ran into missionaries on my way home from school. I didn’t think I was serious about investigating, but I went to their chapel, in another part of town where my brother wouldn’t see me. As I listened to the speakers in the meeting, I found what they were saying was marvelous. Then I began to investigate in earnest, and it didn’t take long before I had a testimony of the truth. My father died 12 years ago, but now my brother and I are hoping our mother will someday join the Church.”

A home teacher I know relates an experience that gave him a feeling of success that has since carried him through many difficult times: “I was working with a family that was reasonably active, but just didn’t seem to have enough commitment to living all of the gospel principles. I prayed to know what I should discuss with them that would be of most value at the time, and I felt inspired to talk about the principle of fasting. I found that they had been discussing this very principle among themselves, and I was able to answer some of their questions and give them some encouragement to use this principle. One of their children who had never fasted before committed to try fasting on the next fast Sunday, and afterward she beamed as she reported that it had been a wonderful experience.

“Just that one successful experience encouraged me and motivated me to try for other successes as a home teacher. And each subsequent success renewed my feelings that I was truly engaged in a worthwhile work. To this day, some of those early successes help to keep me motivated and inspired as a home teacher, and I truly enjoy that calling as a result.”

In 2005 my father passed away after being diagnosed with cancer, and my mother passed away three years later. My wife and I rejoiced in acting as their proxies in providing temple ordinances after their deaths.

It wasn’t an easy race, but Danny Wayne Maurer, 18, of Lewiston, Idaho, won it, and became Lewiston High School’s first LDS studentbody president. He was the only Latter-day Saint on the student council.
Of course, Danny is used to tough competition. He’s been on the varsity football and wrestling teams, and presently coaches coed softball. He hopes this will prepare him for his goal of becoming a history teacher and wrestling coach.
Danny, a priest and Life Scout, is working to receive his Eagle.

Among the many blessings the Hammonds feel they received from their service is having their eyes opened to the generosity and friendliness of the Jordanian people. When the Hammonds first received their call, they were uncertain about the people they would be serving.
“But we found our Muslim friends to be gentle and generous,” Ron says, “and we are certain that had they sensed we were ever in harm’s way, they would have gone out of their way to protect us.
“Their charity is amazing. Jordanians can’t bear knowing others are going without if they can help. They have been welcoming refugees since pre-Davidic times. The Bible contains many references to ‘beyond Jordan,’ and we began signing our letters ‘Beyond Jordan’ as recognition of the compassionate service we were privileged to provide in this historically compassionate country. For centuries Jordan has been a place of charity, and the Lord has blessed the people for it.”
Working so closely with the Jordanian people enabled the Hammonds to develop some strong friendships. “We were invited to several Iftar meals, the meal that ends the daily Ramadan fast,” Sandi says. “Our Muslim friends also invited us to attend engagement parties, weddings, and other family-focused occasions.”

“A long time before your grandma was born, one of her grandmother’s grandmothers lived in England. Her name was Elizabeth, and her husband died, leaving her with five children to care for. When the missionaries taught her the gospel, she knew that it was true and was baptized. In those days, new members of the Church left their homes to join the Saints in Utah. So Grandma Elizabeth gathered her children and a few possessions and boarded a boat for America. Just before the boat sailed, her brothers came alongside in a rowboat. They yelled up at her, ‘How can you take your children into that desolate wilderness? They may die! If you give up this foolish idea and stay with us, we will pay for your children’s education. They’ll have a good life here!’ But Grandma said no. She wanted to raise her children among the Saints, and she believed that they’d be safe. Do you know why?”
Katherine shook her head.
“Grandma had been given a special blessing before she left England. In it, Heavenly Father promised that if she lived righteously, all her children would reach Utah safely. Grandma faithfully kept her promise by keeping the commandments, and she believed that Heavenly Father would keep His promise.”
“Did He?” Katherine asked eagerly.
“You’ll soon find out,” Mom said with a wink. “Grandma Elizabeth was too poor to buy horses or oxen to carry her across the plains. She and her children walked and pulled a handcart, instead. There were no bridges across rivers in those days, so when the pioneers came to a river, they had to wade or swim across.
“One day Grandma was carrying her six-year-old son on her shoulders as she crossed a river. This river was deep, and its powerful current pulled at her so hard that she began to lose her footing and slip downstream. The people on the riverbank saw her being washed away. They yelled for her to let go of her son and swim for her life. ‘You’ll never make it with him on your shoulders!’ they shouted. ‘Let him go and save yourself!’”
“She didn’t let him go, did she, Mom?”
“No, sweetheart, she didn’t. She remembered Heavenly Father’s promise that her children would reach Utah safely. She fought to keep her head above water as the river surged around her. Her son’s legs hung down over her shoulders, and she gripped them tightly as she thrashed her legs to try to reach the shore.
“There were branches growing from the riverbank that Grandma Elizabeth could have grabbed to pull herself in, but she would not let go of her son’s legs for an instant. She prayed for strength to hold on, and at last she came to a shallow area near the river’s edge. She waded to the riverbank and leaned against it, trembling with exhaustion. After men from the handcart company lifted her son off her shoulders from above, she crawled up after him.”
“Oh!” Katherine exclaimed, giving a little jump. “I liked that story!”
“It’s not over yet,” Mom laughed. “Right on the banks of that river, Grandma Elizabeth knelt and said a prayer. She thanked Heavenly Father for giving her the strength to help fulfill her blessing to keep her children safe.”

Last June, a terrible accident occurred in the country of Lesotho in southern Africa. A small bus carrying 20 young women of the Maputsoe Branch of the Church and seven of their leaders was headed to the capital city, Maseru, for a gathering of young women from their district. As they traveled the two-lane highway in the morning hours, a car coming in the opposite direction, attempting to pass another vehicle, came into the lane occupied by the bus. There was no space or time to avoid a head-on collision, and within seconds the vehicles hit, rolled off the road, and burst into flames.
In all, 15 people died in the accident, including six young women, two Young Women leaders, and the branch president and his wife. Survivors, family members, and friends have expressed a range of emotions, including moments of anger, depression, and even guilt. Despite these feelings and unanswered questions, they have comforted one another and turned to God through sacred music, the scriptures, and prayer, where they have found solace. Seventeen-year-old survivor Setso’ana Selebeli testified, “Jesus Christ loves us and is with us, even though our hearts hurt.”
A young woman and a leader who were hospitalized for burn treatments studied the Book of Mormon together. One said, “Lately we’ve been reading in Moroni, and Moroni says exactly what I’ve been feeling. … When he speaks, it’s like he’s saying, ‘You have to learn these words because they are written for you to help you pass through this.’”
At a joint funeral service for those who perished, Area Seventy Elder Siyabonga Mkhize counseled, “We should all turn to the Lord at this time and ask Him to comfort our hearts and … to soothe the pain that we feel.” The Young Women president from the neighboring Leribe Branch, Mampho Makura, urged: “Turn to the Lord, and find the strength to accept His will. Jesus Christ is ‘the author and finisher of our faith’ [Hebrews 12:2]. Don’t look away, but look to Him.”
Of course, the counsel “look to God and live” not only has meaning for us in eternity but also makes all the difference in the character and quality of our mortal lives. Remember the words of young Sister Selebeli in Lesotho already mentioned—“Jesus Christ loves us and is with us, even though our hearts hurt.”
Looking to God means that He is not just one of our priorities; it means, rather, that He is our one highest priority. I call to mind again that awful crash in Lesotho last June. From her hospital bed, one of the Young Women leaders who survived, who did not believe in God before joining the Church, said that her purpose is now to discover why her life was spared. “Constantly serving God is how I will come to an answer, if I come to an answer,” she stated. “I used to think that I love God, but now I really, really, really, really, really love Him. Now He is the [number-one] priority in my life.”

We should treat all of our friends kindly, but especially the members of our own families. Two of our sons are 18 months apart, and they have always been best friends. They did almost everything together when they were growing up. In every photograph we have of them, one has his arm around the other. Heavenly Father has given us mothers and fathers to teach us and brothers and sisters to learn from, but most of all to love. Our families are our greatest treasures. We should treat them in a special way because they are going to be our eternal friends.

There’s a story told of a wise old Indian who lived in San Francisco at the time of the clipper ships. He watched the building of the first lighthouse with great curiosity. When it was finally finished, he spoke to the lighthouse keeper. “Don’t understand white man. Horn blows; lights flash; fog comes anyhow.”

But Tavita excelled not only because of his love for the sports, but because he taught himself strict discipline. That discipline helped him learn Cantonese while still preparing to enter the Hong Kong Mission. “When I got my call to Hong Kong, my next thought was, ‘What is a 120-kilo Samoan going to do there?” But I knew that was where Heavenly Father wanted me to serve.”
At the beginning, Tavita had difficulty learning the language. It was frustrating to not be able to communicate his strong feelings about the gospel. “Through patience and prayer I learned to endure. The relationship between my Heavenly Father and me grew closer, more than I ever thought it could. My knees literally had calluses on them.”
Patience and long-suffering helped him succeed on his mission. These attributes have continued to help him succeed in his college studies and football career. During high school, he thought he had to prove something. But now all he feels he needs to prove is his worthiness to his Heavenly Father.

People come to make that crucial choice for many reasons. At first one man we taught could not see the need to be baptized. After all, he had tried to be good all his life. He had committed no serious sin. He had been baptized as a child in another church. But then two things came to his mind. One was that the Savior was baptized out of obedience, having never sinned. The other is that he wanted to make the commitment to the Savior through the authority of the true priesthood, just as the Savior went to John to be baptized.