Gospel Story Finder

Brethren and sisters, after what I’ve heard here today—certainly a full coverage of the subject—I am reminded of an experience I had some years ago. I believe it was one of the few times, if not the only time, that we General Authorities were asked by the Brethren to treat a certain subject at a stake conference. That week I went to Richfield, and Brother Clifford Young went over to Monroe. They had a chorus of young folks from the school sing at Richfield while I was there in the morning, and then they went over to Monroe in the afternoon and sang where Brother Young was. It happened that I talked about the assigned subject in the morning, and Clifford talked about it in the afternoon. When we made our report to the Council of the Twelve, Brother Young said it had been a fine occasion; the only bad thing about it was that those students had had to listen to the same subject twice. President George F. Richards, then president of the Twelve, said, “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. I don’t suppose they knew you were talking about the same subject.”

We have sitting behind me here today, President Kimball. He is a great example of one whose body is renewed through keeping these covenants. I don’t know how many of you know of his condition when they found that he had cancer of the throat and they had to remove most of his vocal organs, and it was impossible for him to speak.
I remember attending a general conference when I was president of the stake up in Canada and meeting President Kimball with two or three others. He said, (whispering) “Hello, I can’t speak to you.” In other words, “Hello, President Tanner, I can’t speak to you.” He could not speak at all so that you could hear him any more than just a bare whisper. They didn’t know whether he’d ever be able to speak again, but he was blessed by the priesthood, and he was able to speak. Then later on, just a few years ago, they found that he had what they thought to be further cancerous growth in his organs, and they wanted to operate. But he called the priesthood to pray over him, to bless him, anoint him, and to administer to him. Now notice that it was the priesthood whom he called. It wasn’t because it was President Lee and Eldon Tanner; it was because of the priesthood we held. He was given a blessing, and it wasn’t necessary for him to have that operation.
Then later on he had a heart condition, and I think President Kimball won’t object to me telling just a little of the details. He was so seriously ill that he felt that something had to be done. Dr. Russell Nelson (noted Utah heart surgeon) was his doctor. He told him that his chances were about fifty-fifty. But if he didn’t have the operation, he couldn’t expect to live many months, but if he did, there was greater hope. We discussed it in President Lee’s office for some time. Finally, President Kimball said, “I think I should be operated on.” I said, “President Kimball, you’ve made the right decision, I’m sure.”
Then he asked to be administered to by President Lee and myself. We administered to him and Dr. Nelson said, “To be operating on the President of the Council of the Twelve, an apostle of God, is a great, great responsibility, the greatest I’ve ever had.” And he said, “President Kimball is going to have a double operation.” At that time he was the only one in history I believe who had undergone, or was going to undergo, a double heart operation at that age. And Doctor Nelson said, “I’d like to have a blessing by the priesthood that I might be guided and directed and do the things that will help to save his life.”
Now, brethren, does the priesthood mean anything to you? It doesn’t mean anything to you unless you live worthy of it. So whether you are a boy twelve years of age, or whether you are seventy years of age, wherever you are, live worthy of the priesthood. Honor that priesthood. Thank the Lord that you are a bearer of the priesthood, and pray night and morning, every day, with a determination that you will do those things which the Lord would have you do. And I want to assure you that you will be happier, you will be more successful, you will be more loved and respected, and the Lord will be pleased with you if you do that which he has asked you to do.
Let us do those things which will make us happy and successful and will prepare ourselves to go back into his presence, I humbly pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Thinking about health reminded me of an experience last year when I had to get a CT scan for the first time. When they shot dye into my vein to help get good pictures of my brain, in an instant I became keenly aware of my circulatory system. I felt the dye move with each heartbeat from my arm into my heart, and then down my leg and up into my head, then to the other side of my body, and back again. Something that happens every second of every day of my life I had taken for granted. This led me to think of the wonder of the human body, and how delicate life is. Then I thought of the whole universe, from the tiniest veins on a baby leaf to the spidery filaments of planetary nurseries in the middle of galaxies.
When I think of God, and how He watches over each heartbeat, my attitude of gratitude increases exponentially.

As a single woman I yearned for marriage and children for many years. Yet despite sincere effort, I could not seem to make that reality happen. At the time, I could not see the miraculous work the Lord was bringing about in my heart through that struggle. My unfulfilled yearnings played a sacred role in inclining my heart toward my Redeemer to seek peace and direction He alone could provide and deepen my trust in His perfect love and enabling power. Daily prayer and scripture study, and especially the words of general conference, became a lifeline of hope and direction. I felt compelled to turn to the words of my patriarchal blessing—and other priesthood blessings—to find love and direction that were personal to me from my Eternal Father.

Eventually, I did miraculously marry my beloved companion, Michael. But I found that my need to be deeply anchored in Jesus Christ only continued. I faced infertility, yearning for more children. When we were finally blessed with our two children, I felt keenly my inadequacies and weaknesses as a mother, knowing that I sometimes failed them in ways I feared would inhibit their growth. I wondered sometimes if the other children we had yearned for had run when they witnessed my struggles as a mother. I wondered how could I ever create the kind of family I desired?

As I struggled it became clear to me that I was denying the reality of my Redeemer. Yes, this is the great plan of family – the Creation provided the place for the family to live. The Fall provided the place for the family to grow. And it is the Atonement of Jesus Christ that makes possible the fullness of grace that is needed for the family to become healed, and eternally one.

In pouring out my heart to God, I found that the Lord, Jesus Christ, answers the pain and loss inherent to our mortal experience with the purest form of love, covenant, drawing closer to us, sharing our pain and weakness in the most profound form of intimacy. In that covenant relationship, His sanctifying power enters us, giving us power to do what is needed to bless our families, opening the way for us to be ever closer to Him, and ever closer to others. [22] Miraculously, through His grace and redemption, and His alone, we can become the kind of people in the kinds of relationships that define heaven.

It took me seven years to qualify to serve a full-time mission. When I first spoke with my bishop, Bishop Tapueluelu, about it, he gave me some guidelines to strive to live by. He said if I followed them and learned to be obedient, I would be blessed. The first few guidelines—daily scripture study and weekly church attendance—were pretty doable. “This is easy,” I thought. But I got offended when I was told to change certain “worldly” things in my life, and my pride and stubbornness got the best of me.
Hoping for an easier way out, I moved to four different wards and spoke with four different bishops. I even went back to school to pursue a medical degree. Then I felt prompted to drop everything and prepare once again to serve a mission. So I did. I went back to Bishop Tapueluelu and humbly asked for his help. I was told that there was a weight requirement for missionaries—and I realized that I weighed over the limit. Immediately, feelings of discouragement and embarrassment cluttered my mind, but my bishop encouraged me. He expressed his love and faith in me and said, “My door is always open. We can work on it together! One weakness, one week at a time.”
So I visited with my bishop every week, working out one weakness at a time. I had no idea that I’d have to wait another four years, just trying to qualify to serve a mission.
During those years, I strived to come closer to Christ and apply His teachings in my life. As challenges came, His Atonement became real to me. I relied on the power, comfort, and strength He gave me through His Atonement when my best friend passed away, when our family lost our home, and when I got into a car accident. When circumstances caused me to lose many of my friends, I fell into depression, but the Savior pulled me out. My Friday nights with friends were replaced with working out at the gym and studying about the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
I prayed every night for the people whom I would one day serve and even for my future companions!
I eventually qualified and was called to serve in the New Zealand Auckland Mission, Tongan-speaking.
When I entered the missionary training center, I realized that there was more to learn about Jesus Christ and His Atonement and myself. Even though I’m of Tongan descent, I had never been to the South Pacific islands, and I struggled with the Tongan language. When I got to New Zealand, I had no idea what people were saying to me in Tongan. I had so much to say, but because I couldn’t speak the language, my words were few, simple, and broken. I nodded my head when people asked me questions. They laughed at me, and I laughed with them, but behind closed doors the laughter turned into tears of frustration and discouragement. I thought to myself, “I worked seven years to come out here for this?”
So I prayed to Heavenly Father. In Ether 12:27 we learn that our weaknesses can become strengths if we trust in Him. I told Him about my weaknesses and my trust in Him, and I got back up again … and again … and again. I started to rely even more on Christ and also on my strengths.
I love this gospel and I love street art, so I decided to combine the two. I packed my scriptures, a sketchbook, charcoal pencils, permanent markers, and cans of spray paint in my backpack. My companions laughed and asked, “What are you doing with spray paint?” I explained, “I may not speak the language yet, but I can show others my testimony.”
For the remainder of my mission, I used street art—on paper, not on buildings—and the Spirit to teach others about Christ. And as crazy as it sounds, it worked. Many people didn’t want to hear my message, so I sketched it. Doors and eyes opened when I told them that I did graffiti. They didn’t believe me. They timed me for three minutes, and I sketched the word faith while teaching them about it. Among them were many who felt judged and unloved. I could testify that with faith in Christ we can feel of His love and forgiveness, and He can help us change for the better. He did for me.
Seven years of preparation for my mission helped me find myself. That time allowed me to gain a testimony of Christ’s Atonement and His power to help me overcome my weaknesses and use my strengths to share what I knew with others. In the end it was worth the seven years.

Although the sun is bright, the air is decidedly crisp. The mountains reigning over Provo, Utah, are robed in red and gold. It’s fall 1985, and the weather is perfect for a hayride, a mug of apple cider, a football game. On an emerald-green practice field, I watch a quarterback wearing a blue jersey take a practice snap from his center, drop back with his arm cocked, and hurl a football. He throws it over and over and over again.
And then he throws it some more—even though he won’t actually play this Saturday afternoon when the stadium streams with thousands of screaming fans.
I watch the quarterback take another snap, throw another ball. I know how much he wants to be his team’s starter, and I know how hard he works to make that dream a reality. I’m impressed. But I’m more impressed by how well he has played the demanding role of second-string quarterback.
Say hello to Blaine Fowler—husband, dad, college student, public speaker, stand-up comic, and Brigham Young University quarterback. Blaine likes to munch chips and salsa, dreams of taking a trip to Europe with his wife, Brenda, and their son, Kellen, and says he wouldn’t mind being Dr. J. because “basketball is my favorite sport.” He insists strangers confuse him with Kermit the Frog, although friends know him better for his dead-on imitations of Mutley the Dog and other Hanna-Barbera cartoon characters. He likes to fish, ski, play the guitar, and read (his favorite books are Huckleberry Finn and The Lord of the Rings trilogy). And, of course, he just loves to throw the football.
Maybe you’ve heard about Brigham Young University’s football team. In 1984, they were named national champions, the number one team in the United States. And if you’re really a sports fan you probably know a thing or two about the great quarterbacks the school has produced over the years. Gifford Nielsen, Marc Wilson, Jim McMahon, and Steve Young all went on to play professional football after their years at BYU were over. And now there’s Robbie Bosco, one of the best ever. In the past two years, Robbie has won more games than any of the team’s previous quarterbacks.
While Robbie continues to break NCAA records on the field, Blaine waits on the sidelines, perpetually ready for action.
Blaine, of course, is disappointed, and he frankly admits his frustration: “I would much rather be playing, and I would be happier if I were.” And, in fact, he had no reason to believe he wouldn’t start at quarterback when he entered college. At his old high school in Elmira, New York, Blaine played as a freshman on the varsity football team. (He was only the second freshman in the history of his school to do so—his cousin was the first.) As a sophomore, junior, and senior he started at quarterback on a team that won the league championship all three years. As a junior and senior he made all-state. As a senior, he was named the state’s most valuable player. He was recruited to play football by Pittsburgh, Penn State, Boston College, Purdue, and Wake Forest but chose to go to BYU because he felt “really comfortable” there.
But things didn’t work out exactly the way he wanted them to. Yet, in spite of his personal disappointment, Blaine doesn’t pout, doesn’t sulk, doesn’t bear a grudge. He seems to realize that although he cannot make a choice about playing on Saturday afternoons—that choice is made for him by other people—he can choose how he will react to the situation. His example can teach us all how to be the best supporting players we can.
When I didn’t realize my dream of starring in school plays, I became extremely critical of the drama department. I criticized the productions and the people involved with them frequently and loudly. “Well,” I’d say, “everyone knows Mr. Bound has favorites.” Occasionally I attacked the intelligence of the participants: “Don’t you know they all have noodles for brains?” I’d ask. Contrast my feelings with Blaine’s: “It is not the end of the world that I’m not playing football. My dad has always said that football should be played for the fun of it. It’s not a business, and if it ever becomes that then you shouldn’t play it anymore. So I’ve always taken that attitude toward it. If I’m having a good time, I’m not going to worry about things. And I’ve had a good time at BYU.”
Many people have commented on Blaine’s positive attitude, including a former English instructor who says that “Blaine is certainly no Pollyanna, but he does meet challenges happily and head-on.” Fellow teammate, Glen Kozlowski notes that “Blaine has always worked hard, kept his spirits up, and stayed ready to play whenever called upon.
His positive attitude is perhaps best demonstrated by this advice he gives for New Era readers: “Always strive to be good at something. Don’t let others tell you you’re too small, too slow, too dumb, too ugly, or just not good enough to accomplish great things. The only one standing between you and greatness is yourself.”
It would have been easy for Blaine to just give up. But he didn’t. He works hard, giving 100 percent of himself all the time. Robbie Bosco, who calls Blaine a “friend, competitor, and teammate,” says that “Blaine is always ready to play.” BYU’s head football coach, LaVell Edwards, praises Blaine as both a person and an athlete, calling him an “unselfish player” who is dedicated to the welfare of the team as a whole. Quarterback coach Mike Holmgren is even more specific in his praise: “Blaine has sacrificed his own individual glory for the sake of team success. Blaine could have been the starter at a number of eastern universities but chose to stay at BYU, to compete for the quarterback position, and to contribute in any way that he could. His role is not easy, but it is essential to our team’s success.”
Coach Holmgren is not being merely gracious when he says Blaine’s role as backup quarterback has been critical to the team’s success: any athletic team is only as good as its second- and third-string players. These athletes are the ones who push the starters in practice, who give them a run for their money, who force them to give their best all the time. It’s unlikely that Robbie or any of the starters would be as good as they are if players like Blaine weren’t pushing them from behind.
Choose to remember the things that really matter. Perhaps both of the previous choices are made easier by knowing which things matter in the long run and which things do not. Football is not the most important thing in the world, and Blaine knows it. He says, “I realize that the family I have now is much more important than any football career I could have, and I realize that the Church is more important, too.” Blaine gives his father, Kirk Fowler, credit for his ability to put things into perspective. Of his father, Blaine says, “He always put his family first.”
The practice is coming to a close now. The players begin taking off their helmets, shaking their heads. It makes no difference if they are first or second or third string—they’re all sore, they’re all tired. And in a very real sense, they’re all winners.

When I eat lunch in the school cafeteria, some kids talk about things that I know I shouldn’t listen to. I ask them to not talk about those things. Sometimes they stop, but sometimes they don’t. If they don’t, I move to another place so I don’t have to hear bad things. A couple of times I’ve had to eat alone.
Sometimes standing up for the right means that you aren’t liked as much, but I think it helps other people to want to choose the right too. It also means that you will attract good friends. I am glad that we have a prophet who asks us to be clean.

When I was a teenager, my Young Men president invited the young men in our ward to read the Book of Mormon by the end of the year.
I didn’t accept that invitation. I’ve usually been someone who is ready to take on any challenge, but I was at a really low point spiritually.
Interestingly, during this time, I was “preparing” to serve a mission, but I was only going through the motions. My testimony was weak, and I told myself I would serve just to make my parents happy. I had decided that after my mission, I would figure things out for myself. I would believe what I wanted to and do my own thing.
Although I was exerting myself in my schoolwork at the time, I had fallen into a pit of spiritual idleness. I felt so distant from God that I started questioning His existence. I had doubts concerning the authenticity of the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith’s call to be a prophet. I struggled with self-esteem and self-hate, and I had no strong conviction regarding the purpose of life.
“I was in the darkest abyss” (Mosiah 27:29), so I had little desire to read the Book of Mormon.
One night, I was reading a novel when an impression came to me that I believe and know with all my heart was from the Spirit. I found myself getting deeply wrapped up in the plot of this book, and then the thought came to me that I had never studied the Book of Mormon seriously—at least not as seriously as I was reading and pondering this particular book.
I had casually studied the Book of Mormon, taken notes, and prayed about it multiple times before, but I’d been missing a crucial part of Moroni’s admonition in the last chapter of the Book of Mormon: to ask “with a sincere heart, with real intent” (Moroni 10:4). I knew that it was the perfect time for me to ask my Father in Heaven again for answers. I felt spiritually hungry, and this time the answer actually mattered to me. Without realizing it, I had arrived at a spiritual crossroads, where my faith in the gospel hinged on knowing whether or not the Book of Mormon was true.
The same night I received that impression, I began to read the Book of Mormon—but this time with purpose.
Now eager to accept my Young Men leader’s invitation and finish reading by the end of the year, I read my pocket-size copy at every opportunity possible: on the train, during bus rides to school, in between classes, in between chores, before and after meals, and before bed. At every possible opportunity, I read. And every time I read, I kept praying: “I need to know. I need to know.”
One day my family and I went to the Manila Philippines Temple, but I forgot to bring my temple recommend. I did have my tiny copy of the Book of Mormon with me, though, so I sat in a waiting area and continued to read. Occasionally, I would stop to admire the beauty of the temple—the chandelier, the staircase, the stained-glass windows, and the people coming and going ever so reverently with great love for the Lord in their hearts.
At some point while I was reading, I received a very distinct impression from the Spirit in my mind. When it came, it spoke to me on many different levels. I was actually so shocked when it hit me that I sat up a little straighter. I felt such a powerful feeling that I could not dismiss it as a passing thought or a fleeting emotion.
“Totoo ‘to,” is what I heard in my mind.
A simple yet profound statement in my native tongue, Tagalog, that means, “This is true.”
I had received a confirmation that the Book of Mormon was true—that it was the word of God. I finally knew it with all my heart because I knew that impression had come from heaven.
But that’s not all that I learned.
Growing up, I had read the Book of Mormon and learned about the gospel in English. As a matter of fact, during the first few years of my life, I had a better grasp of English than Tagalog. But receiving this spiritual impression out of nowhere in Tagalog—the language native to my country—spoke truth to my heart.
I knew in that moment that God knows me in a very real and personal way.
I knew that He really is there. I knew that He speaks my language, that He loves me, and that He is aware of my struggles and weaknesses. I had that confirmation, but there was something else I needed to know for sure, so I sought out the answer immediately: “Heavenly Father, is Joseph Smith really a true prophet?” The feeling came again, this time more powerfully into my heart: “Totoo ‘to!”
I knew then that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. He saw both the Father and the Son. Through Joseph Smith, the gospel of Jesus Christ was restored in its fulness.
What peace and comfort and knowledge did I receive! At that moment, I wanted to rush out on the temple grounds, waving my small copy of the Book of Mormon in the air and exclaiming, “Totoo ‘to! Totoo ‘to!” I felt like Alma when he exclaimed, “Oh, what joy, and what marvelous light I did behold” (Alma 36:20).
After this experience, my reason for going on a mission immediately changed. Soon my papers were in, and I got my call to serve in Colorado, USA. I was so excited. I knew that someone out there was experiencing what I had gone through—crying out for help and longing for happiness and truth. And I knew that through the gospel of Jesus Christ, they would find that help and happiness, just as I had.
I hope that we may all come to know: “Totoo ‘to!”

Lester was always filled with surprises. One day, I was helping him cut grass around runway lights. We’d finished half of them and were lying on our backs watching clouds appear and disappear. All of a sudden, he said, “Ya know something? I believe in God.”
I looked over at him, not sure I’d heard right.
“Yep,” he added in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. “Yep, there has to be someone up there somewhere to have made such a beautiful place as this. …”
And it was Lester who taught me the “What-If” Game.
“What if one day yer flying along and ya smell smoke?”
“What if one day yer puddling along up there, minding your own business, and all of a sudden. …”
He had hundreds of what-ifs.
One evening as we were flying back and forth across an Ohio summer sky, polishing up a few maneuvers I’d need for my private pilot’s flight test, Lester suddenly reached up without warning and cut the switch on the plane’s engine. My heart stopped along with the propeller. Then he sat back, pulled his cap down over his eyes, folded his arms, and feigned sleep.
I panicked.
I’d stood on the ground and watched Lester come in dead stick a hundred times. So I knew it could be done. But Lester was good—and he’d been flying for 500 years! I was just a kid!
My neck was starting to unscrew from my shoulders as I swiveled my head trying to pick the best cornfield, wheatfield, hayfield, highway, Lake Erie, any place to land! We’d drilled on this a hundred times! But it was always with the engine idling. This was different. The gentle kick of an idling propeller was gone and the altimeter was unwinding—fast!
I finally spotted a good field and started to align the nose with it. It would be a tricky approach. We’d have to cross some woods and then slip quickly into a field I knew would be much too tight. But if I did it perfectly and then kicked it into a groundloop just as we reached the far side fence …
Lester stirred. “Why don’t ya use Bunch’s strip?” he asked, pointing downward. “You didn’t look right under us. We’re right over top of Bunch Woods’s home strip!”
He was right! Straight below us was about 1,200 feet of beautiful Ohio grass with Bunch Woods’s house and plane sitting smack at the end.
When we stopped rolling after landing, Lester sat up, set his cap back on straight and said, “Mebbe ya better play the What-If Game more often.” He turned to look at me and his face was serious. “Because, ya know, it’s not a matter of if you’ll ever have an emergency in flight, it’s a matter of when. And when it happens, you’ll be glad you stretched for excellence instead of just being good.”
For me, that night came years later in Gallup, New Mexico, on the way home from a meeting in Tucson. I’d pushed fuel limits a little too far and suddenly found myself with no reserve to reach an alternative field. A mean little thundersquall was sitting on the airport’s north fence sending wind gusts up to 60 miles an hour across the runway. My wife and kids were with me.
Lester was right.
I’ve played the What-If Game many times since then. It’s easy and kind of fun, too. All you do is find a time when you’re a little bored and ask yourself, What if … ?
“What do I do if some day I’m out with the guys and … ?”
“What do I do if some day I’m driving along, minding my own business, and … ?”
“What do I do if some dark night, my boyfriend … ?”
It’s an easy game to play. It doesn’t take any equipment to speak of. And you always win.
But the best part is that when the real thing comes along, you have a plan ready to pull out and use when you need it. Because when you really need it, there won’t be time to plan.
Somewhere, sometime, some night when you’re all alone with no one to help you, you’ll be faced with a split-second decision. It’ll be a decision you’ll have to make alone. It may involve alcohol. It may involve drugs. It may involve sex. It may be dishonesty. But whatever it is, that time will come. It’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when and where.
I learned the What-If Game when I was a kid. It’s a game that needs to be played frequently and well. For the laws of life, like the law of gravity, are strictly enforced.

The first Sunday I attended church with the missionaries, I recognized people I had grown up with and knew from the community. I saw one of my best friends from school, the elementary and high school secretaries, a girl I had not been exceptionally nice to in the past, and even a young man I once had a crush on.
Each of these individuals had a lasting impact on me. My best friend was a young woman of great integrity, and because of her I chose to continue investigating the Church. The secretaries who remembered me from school helped me know that I am important. I learned about godly love and charity from the young woman who embraced me despite my less-than-kind behavior toward her in the past. My early teenage crush set such a good example, I recognized his light and wanted to be around him.
These experiences helped me learn that, even before my first exposure to the missionaries, Heavenly Father had prepared me to receive the gospel through the people He placed around me. From them I learned that the small things we do can have great effect. Most important, I have learned that missionary work starts with me.

Experiencing the joy. Matt, my youngest son, and I share a birthday. He was to turn 8, and I was to turn 50. Matt wanted to be baptized by his brother on our birthday, so our home teacher took time to instruct my sons how to perform the ordinance and later attended the service. After the baptism, Matt was confirmed by the oldest in our family, a married brother.
During the program all 10 of my children, along with two spouses and two grandchildren, stood and sang “Families Can Be Together Forever.” It was a moment I will always remember. My feelings of gratitude for the gospel and the richness of the spiritual blessings that had come to me to help me, sustain me, and tutor me filled my heart. As I looked at my beautiful family and listened to the words they sang, I knew without a doubt that we were still a “forever” family.

Money, or the lack of it, became a major issue. My mom worked two jobs. When my best friend wanted me to go shopping, I was too ashamed to tell her we barely had enough money for food—let alone clothes.
Seeing how bad I felt, my mom taught herself to sew and made me a few outfits. As good as her intentions were, none of the outfits turned out very well. She made me a pair of pants that were not only too short, but they were such a bright color that I felt self-conscious. As much as I didn’t want to wear them or any of my homemade clothes, I also didn’t want to hurt Mom’s feelings.
The day I wore those pants to school still stands out in my mind as one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. Mike, one of the most popular guys at school, always took time out of his busy schedule to make fun of my homemade outfits. The day I wore those pants I gave not only Mike but everyone else something to laugh about.

Elder Gordon B. Hinckley
More than sixty years ago, a small boy on an Idaho farm went with his father to the field. While the father worked through the day, the boy amused himself with one thing and another. Over the fence were some old farm buildings, derelict and tumbled down. The boy with imagination saw in them castles to be entered. He climbed through the fence and approached the buildings to begin his exploration. As he drew near, a voice was heard to say, “Harold, don’t go over there.” He looked to see if his father was around. He was not. But the boy heeded the warning. He turned and ran. He never knew what danger might have been lurking there, nor did he question. Having listened and heard, he obeyed.

My primary teacher, LaNae Poulter did the same thing. She told me after putting her arm around me, “You can do this because I’ll help you”. She did this while helping me give a talk in primary. I did it! She gave me confidence. She didn't just help me give a talk—she helped me believe I could. She is now retired from BYU-Idaho, but she did the same things when she was serving here on this campus in the scheduling office and in many other areas on campus. I see this same principle being done by my co-workers, faculty, administration, staff and students all over campus.

American Indians in Nottingham’s Old Market Square?! Someone must have their history mixed up. But no, it’s all part of a program to help teach the British people more about the Book of Mormon.
President Eldon J. Callister of the England Birmingham Mission realized that one of the biggest hindrances to missionary work in England is the misconception the people have of Mormons. “Oh yes, you have more than one wife and think it wicked to drink tea” is what missionaries hear when they ask the question, “What do you know about the Mormon church?”
The Book of Mormon is one of the greatest tools for missionary work, so in order to help people become interested, President Callister assigned two elders to produce an entertaining and educational show that could be used to teach about the Lamanite people. Within the mission was an elder with considerable experience with Indian dances and customs, Elder Kim Larson. Another elder, Tom Spencer, who had theatrical experience was assigned to help with the program, and the two elders wrote “Ancient America Speaks.”
Elder Larson sent for his handmade Kiowa Dance costume, which he had used in the U.S. while performing with the Koshare (pronounced co-shar-ee) Indian dancers of LaJunta, Colorado. Elder Spencer sat down and began to write. Their production showed the modern American Indian in his rightful position as a descendant of a once-Christian people. They tell about the legends and dances that illustrate how the Indians changed their form of worship from Christianity to those of a more pagan nature.
During their first year of performances, the elders danced and spoke before thousands. During the summer months they performed in town fairs and carnivals. Open houses were held in all of the four stakes within the mission boundaries. Countless shopping centers, market squares, town centers, and colleges were the stages for the tom-toms and storytelling. A slightly modified program was written for public schools. More than 100 schools were visited, which resulted in a good feeling toward the Church. Many have asked for the program to return next year.
The program has been such a success in introducing the British to the gospel that two more elders were assigned to carry on the presentations after Elders Larson and Spencer were released.
The elders have appeared on TV twice, and newspaper articles have continued to be published. The British find the American Indian story interesting, but it’s the gospel story they learn that really affects them. The Indian program seems to make it easier for many to want to learn more. So for these Indian-missionaries there are no reservations concerning missionary work.

I stammered and stuttered during my growing-up years. In school, I would never be involved in anything that required more than a minimum of speaking. My parents sent me to speech teachers and therapists, but they couldn’t correct my problem. However, just before my father became ill, I received my patriarchal blessing. It said, in part, “Lloyd, you have problems. Know this—the Lord loves you and wants you to be happy. I bless you that you shall go out into the world and preach the gospel with force to a waiting world.” Because of this blessing, I accepted a call to the Southern States Mission.
The first month of my mission was terrible. I had never administered the sacrament or given a talk. My companion had me talk to one lady at her door, and I stuttered and stammered terribly. After a month of not making any improvement, I prayed, “Lord, now is the time. If I don’t have relief from this affliction, the mission president will send me home. Lord, it has to be now!”
Gradually I was able to speak more fluently. After six months I went back to some elderly sisters that we had taught, and I really gave them and some others what I thought was my best talk. Afterward, with tears in their eyes, some of them came up to me and said, “The Lord has really blessed you.” After that experience, I learned about the real power of prayer.

Several months ago a friend and I had the opportunity of presenting a set of scriptures to an associate who is not a member of the Church. Knowing that this might be a life-changing event for him—and for us—we took the time to have his name embossed on each volume. As we presented these sacred records to him, we could tell he was deeply moved by the significance and sincerity of our offering. For several minutes he examined each book without speaking, rubbing his hand on the cover and turning some of the pages.
Recognizing the importance of the moment, we helped him turn to the title page of the Book of Mormon and began to explain that the Book of Mormon was another testament, or witness, of Jesus Christ. He then asked a question that all missionary-minded members are anxious to hear: “Why do we need additional witnesses of Jesus Christ other than the Bible?” Rather than responding quickly, we asked him why he thought this might be important. His answer seemed even more inspired than his question. He suggested that since there appeared to be so many variations of the Bible and its teachings, we needed some kind of clarifying voice, something that would help us understand the Bible better. His observation opened the door for us to share our feelings and testimonies regarding both the Bible and the Book of Mormon.
We began by expressing our devotion and deep conviction to the doctrines and teachings of the Bible, especially the New Testament. Being able to read many of the Savior’s words as He taught the gospel during His earthly ministry strengthens us, helps us come to know Him, and teaches us that we can become more like Him. We then declared that, like the Bible, the Book of Mormon is additional evidence that God loves all of His children and has provided a way for us to return and live with Him once again. We spent the next hour or so reviewing many aspects of the Book of Mormon, including its history and divine origin. Allow me to share a few of the things we discussed.
We first explained that the Book of Mormon is a book with a promise. Although its history is compelling by itself, it is a book of scriptural significance that should be received and read under the influence of the Holy Ghost. All who study and ponder its teachings are given a promise found in the last chapter of Moroni (see Moroni 10:3–4) as well as in the introduction to the Book of Mormon, where we read: “We invite all men [and women] everywhere to read the Book of Mormon, to ponder in their hearts the message it contains, and then to ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ if the book is true. Those who pursue this course and ask in faith will gain a testimony of its truth and divinity by the power of the Holy Ghost.” We then spent several minutes teaching about prayer and how the Holy Ghost can speak to our hearts and confirm that the Book of Mormon is true.
Next we stated that the Book of Mormon is a book with a purpose. From the title page we read that the Book of Mormon was “written by way of commandment” and “by the spirit of prophecy and of revelation” to “come forth by the gift and power of God” to the convincing of each of us “that Jesus is the Christ, the Eternal God.” In a personal expression of this purpose, Nephi, as one of the authors of the Book of Mormon, wrote, “The fulness of mine intent is that I may persuade men to come unto the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, and be saved” (1 Nephi 6:4).
Additionally, we explained that the Book of Mormon is a book that teaches “the great plan of happiness” (Alma 42:8; see also vv. 5, 13, 31; 2 Nephi 9). In profound yet understandable terms, the Book of Mormon teaches the purpose of life, from whence we came, and what happens when we die. We learn of faith in Jesus Christ and His atoning sacrifice, of repentance, of the importance of baptism by immersion, and of the gift and power of the Holy Ghost. By studying and feasting upon the doctrines of the Book of Mormon, we gain “a perfect brightness of hope, and a love of God and of all men,” with a desire to “endure to the end” that we may “have eternal life” (2 Nephi 31:20).
Most importantly, we declared that the Book of Mormon is a book that testifies that Jesus is the Christ, the Savior of the world. Great prophets throughout the Book of Mormon have borne solemn witness that Jesus Christ is the Creator of the earth (see Mosiah 3:8), the Redeemer of mankind (see Helaman 5:9–12), the Only Begotten of the Father (see 1 Nephi 11:18–21; Jacob 4:11). These Book of Mormon prophets knew Him, as Abraham and Moses did, and received and taught His everlasting gospel. As we read and study their words, we gain a deeper understanding of the Savior’s matchless love, His perfect life and example, and the blessings of His great atoning sacrifice.
We then testified that the Book of Mormon is tangible evidence that Joseph Smith was chosen by the hand of the Lord to restore the Church of Jesus Christ to the earth in these latter days. As stated in the introduction to the Book of Mormon, “Those who gain [a] divine witness from the Holy Spirit [of the divinity of the Book of Mormon] will also come to know by the same power that Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world, that Joseph Smith is his revelator and prophet in these last days, and that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the Lord’s kingdom once again established on the earth.”
Ever since Samuel Smith set out to preach the gospel with a few first-edition copies, the Book of Mormon has blessed the lives of millions around the world. I pray that we will continue to use the Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ to share the gospel message with family and friends. If we do this, as was the case with our dear friend, many will respond with great interest to know more about the life and mission of the Savior and His great plan of happiness for each of us.
I express my solemn witness that the Book of Mormon is true. It is a book that has brought about a mighty change in my life. I know that God lives. Jesus is the Christ. His gospel has been restored to the earth. President Thomas S. Monson is His prophet and living oracle at this time. The spirit I feel as I daily read, ponder, and pray about the Book of Mormon strengthens my understanding and testimony of these things and reaffirms to me that they are true. I humbly share this testimony and my personal witness with you in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I fared much better at fast-pitch softball. My most memorable experience in softball was a thirteen-inning game I pitched in Salt Lake City on a hot Memorial Day. The game was scheduled for just seven innings, but the tied score could not be broken. In the last of the thirteenth, with two men out and a runner on third, the batter hit a high pop fly to left field. The catch was certain, I thought. And yet the ball fell through the hands of the left fielder. For thirty-eight years I have teased my friend who dropped the ball. I have promised myself I will never do so again. I’m not even going to mention his name. After all, he, too, remembers. It was only a game.

Rachel loved her Sunbeam class. Her teacher, Sister Monson, had something special for them each Sunday to take home to help them remember what she had taught them. Once it was a picture of Jesus praying. Once it was a tiny mirror with “I am a child of God” printed around it. Last Sunday it had been a kitten puppet with a soft tummy for helping Mommy do the dusting. Rachel had named her dustcloth Ditty.
Every day when Mommy did the dusting, Rachel would get Ditty from the cleaning shelf and help. She liked to dust the rocking chair the best. It would gently rock to and fro as she dusted from the very top to the very bottom.
But today Ditty was lost. It wasn’t on the shelf when Mommy started dusting. Rachel had looked everywhere she could think of. But still no Ditty.
Mommy was just finishing the last shelf on the bookshelf when Rachel came into the living room and asked, “Mommy, does Heavenly Father have time for little answers?”
Mommy stopped her dusting and took Rachel’s hand. Together they walked to the couch, and Mommy lifted Rachel up onto her lap. “That sounds like a pretty serious question,” Mommy said. “Do you want to tell me what the problem is?”
“Ditty’s lost,” Rachel explained, “and I’ve looked everywhere. Sister Monson said that Heavenly Father has time to listen to big and little people about important things. I know that He helped when Daddy was looking for a job. And He helped Grandma when she fell and broke her hip. But does Heavenly Father have time to help me find Ditty?”
“Ditty is pretty important to you, isn’t it?” Rachel nodded sadly. Mommy stroked Rachel’s hair and wiped a tear from her cheek. “Well, anything that’s really important to you is important to Him, too,” Mommy assured her. “Would you like me to pray with you about Ditty?”
Rachel nodded, and they knelt together beside the couch.
“Do you want me to say it?” Mommy asked.
“No,” Rachel answered. “It’s my Ditty, so it should be my prayer.”
Mommy nodded and bowed her head. Rachel began.
“Heavenly Father, I thank Thee for Mommy and Daddy and all our nice things. Please help me to find Ditty. It’s important to me because Sister Monson gave it to me and because it helps me help Mommy. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Rachel and Mommy stayed kneeling quietly for a few minutes. Then Rachel smiled and reached for Mommy’s hand. “I just remembered where Ditty is!” Rachel said. “I was using it when I hid behind the couch to surprise Daddy yesterday.” She jumped up and looked behind the couch. Sure enough, there was Ditty. Rachel got it and crawled out to Mommy’s waiting arms. “He really did have time for a little answer, didn’t He?”
“Yes, Rachel,” Mommy reassured her, “and He always will.”

After graduating with honors from high school, Bien studied political science at the Christian College of the Philippines. “We were talking in class about earthquakes,” Bien remembers, “laughing about getting caught in one.” Suddenly, the whole classroom swayed. It was an earthquake.
Terrified, everyone scrambled to escape. The building was dancing madly. Just as Bien was about to dash to safety through an open door, he was pinned by an avalanche of concrete.
“A broken chair jabbed at my stomach, one of my legs was in a half-kneeling posture, and I was face down,” he remembers. His fractured right arm bled profusely under a block of collapsed flooring. Yet, incredibly, a huge chunk of fallen concrete had barely missed his head. “Classmates were crying for help, but I couldn’t budge,” Bien recalls. One by one they died, including three lying on Bien. The quake struck in late afternoon, and by evening it was pitch dark. Everything was silent.
“I cried,” Bien admits. But as he wept, a Primary song crossed his mind. He started singing “I Am a Child of God.” As each word pierced the silence, a feeling of peace came, a feeling that he was no longer alone. “I prayed, saying, ‘Father, if I still need to live, then please let me live.’” As he prayed, Bien remembered the Savior. “He suffered a lot more than I did,” Bien realized. The cave-in became a tremendous spiritual experience.
As the sun rose the following morning, so did Bien’s hopes. Rescue workers pried him from the rubble and carried him to safety. His relieved family was notified. Bien was rushed to a hospital. Doctors immediately amputated his right arm. “I woke up, looked at my right side and cried out, ‘What’s happening here?’ I thought I was dreaming.” Shock turned to sorrow. “I felt so lonely because I might not be able to do what I used to do.”
After three bedridden months, Bien went home. Nearly all of his 50 classmates had perished. It seemed the same thing happened to Bien’s will to live. How could he, a right-handed person, manage with just his left hand?
While tutoring his nephews one day, Bien felt prompted to practice writing the alphabet. At first it was pure frustration. “My mind knew the shapes, but my hand had difficulty following.” However, practice makes perfect; less than a year after that fateful day, Bien was not only writing with ease but also back to his oil-painting hobby. And he resumed college.
After a year, he felt it was time to make use of his newfound strength to serve a mission. His family was aghast. “We’d really worry about you,” his mother protested.
“I know this is what the Lord wants,” Bien reassured her.
Months later, as a missionary, Bien received a family letter. “Don’t worry about us,” they wrote. “We’re boasting about you already.”
Bien’s personality affects just about everybody. At the Manila Missionary Training Center he was an inspiration, and his dedication has touched the Santa Maria branch. But Bien admits there are still some challenges, like forgoing basketball and service projects like harvesting rice.
One of Bien’s favorite scriptures says God “will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will … also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it” (1 Cor. 10:13). It’s a scripture that helps Bien see everything as a learning experience.
Mission life, he says, “is like a school where I learn much, not only about the gospel but also about myself.” He hastens to add that it was in the rubble of another school where he learned to trust Heavenly Father.
Ask Bien to sum up his blessings and he’ll share his motto: “I asked God for health that I might do great things, and I was given an infirmity that I might do greater things.”
Then he’ll smile and extend his friendship to you—with a warm, left-handed handshake.