Gospel Story Finder

May I offer two ideas that have been helpful to me when I have felt fearful? The first one came in the form of advice from Sister Michaelene Grassli, Primary general president. I served under her on the Primary General Board. We were on a training assignment together when a local leader began to describe in glowing details the auxiliary leaders who had come to that area the year before. As she told about the wonderful things they had done and expressed her hopes that we would do the same, a sick feeling began to settle in my stomach. That night after our hostess had left, I expressed to Sister Grassli my fears: I was afraid my performance would be far less than those who had come before, and I would certainly be a disappointment to everyone and probably an embarrassment to her and the Church. She said, “I have had those same feelings, but it is comforting to me to know that I need only be concerned that what I do and say is acceptable and pleasing to the Lord.” Her words brought such immediate peace to my mind that I have repeated them over and over to myself in countless situations.
As women, we like very much to please others—sometimes seeking approval so frantically that we become torn and confused by the conflicting needs of those around us. Concentrating on pleasing Heavenly Father brings peace, a respite from fear and anxiety. Think of that, young women, the next time you are asked to perform in church, or visit an inactive member of your class, or plan an activity: “I only need to worry about pleasing the Lord.” I think some of your fears will evaporate. The prophet David said: “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” (Ps. 27:1.)
The second idea that has been helpful to me was reportedly expressed by Vincent van Gogh, a famous painter. He said, “I am always doing what I can’t do yet in order to learn how to do it.” A large part of conquering daily fear is simply doing things that we don’t know how to do—yet.
Are there things you don’t know how to do yet, that you are doing anyway? What about trying to make conversation with a young man at Mutual even though you feel very awkward? What about working hard in school even though it feels discouraging? I have often heard Sister Janette Hales, our Young Women general president, tell young people to work hard. She has said, “Working increases our abilities, and as you feel your abilities increase, you will feel more secure.”
I’ve just finished reading Eleanor Roosevelt’s biography. She was the wife of a president of the United States, but her influence went far beyond politics and position. Her life stands as a beacon to all women as someone who magnificently developed her own gifts through her service to others. This was a woman whose early life was ruled by fear and self-doubt. She described herself as an awkward adolescent, unattractively tall, with protruding teeth, dressed inappropriately, and so ill at ease with others her own age that parties and dances were dreaded occasions. How did she move from that to the kind of confidence that allowed her to contribute so widely?
She said, “You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do.” (Karen McAuley, Eleanor Roosevelt, New York: Chelsea House Publishers, 1987, p. 105.)
As we concentrate on pleasing the Lord rather than others and continue to work hard, doing the things we don’t know how to do yet, we will experience personal growth. We will increase our confidence in Heavenly Father and his Son, Jesus Christ. This faith assures us that in the end, we will not only survive but we will know great joy and happiness.
After the death of Christ, Paul was converted and became a great missionary. He had a junior companion, whom he loved as a father loves his own son. When we pick up their story in 2 Timothy, they are separated in their service. Timothy is lonely and afraid—being a missionary can be a fearful business. Paul is in prison in Rome. He writes Timothy a letter: “To Timothy, my dearly beloved son. …
“I thank God … that without ceasing I have remembrance of thee in my prayers night and day;
“Greatly desiring to see thee, being mindful of thy tears.” (2 Tim. 1:2–4.)
Isn’t that a tender letter? Pretend it is coming to you from one who is mindful of your tears.
Paul then goes on to remind Timothy of his strengths: “I call to remembrance the unfeigned faith that is in thee.” (2 Tim. 1:5.) He reminds Timothy that both his grandmother and his mother were women of faith.
Think of some of the strengths that your grandmothers and mother have passed on to you.
Then Paul asks Timothy to remember to use the gift of the Holy Ghost: “I put thee in remembrance that thou stir up the gift of God, which is in thee by the putting on of my hands.” (2 Tim. 1:6.)
Are you remembering that you have had hands laid on your head—that you have been given a gift? Use that gift to conquer your fears!
And then my favorite part of the letter: “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” (2 Tim. 1:7.)
Are those just the things you want when you are fearful—power, love, the ability to think clearly?
Paul ends one of his letters: “All that are with me salute thee. Greet them that love us in the faith. Grace be with you all. Amen.” (Titus 3:15.)
All that are with me salute you. We love you and are aware of your fears and your faith. I bear you my witness that Jesus Christ is our Savior, that he loves me, that he loves each of you, and that he will help us to replace our fears with faith. I say these things in his name, amen.

Joseph was ten when his parents decided that they had had enough of stingy New England—their crops were frozen out the third summer in a row. Late that season the family followed their father to new farmland in western New York. Young Joseph hobbled over snowy roads with a severe limp from a crippling bone operation three years before. Yet he outgrew this as he worked in the forests with his brothers, clearing 40 acres of heavy timber and underbrush, fencing and erecting buildings for themselves, and hiring out on neighboring farms. By such hard work Joseph built a body that served him well in the travels and trials required of the first leader of the restored church.

There is one particular story that I would like to highlight today. In 1915, BYU was in dire financial difficulties and was preparing to sell the very land on which our campus now stands. The commencement speaker, a student named Alfred Kelly, was given an assignment to promote selling the property in his speech, but he was troubled by the idea. Early one morning he walked to the land that was to be sold. He prayed, and then it happened. He saw what he called a “strange vision” with “thousands of young people who approached me, their arms laden with books.” Kelly continued:

I turned around to find the area behind me illuminated as well. In that light I saw hundreds of buildings, large and beautiful temples of learning. Those young people passed by me and entered in. Then, with cheerfulness and confidence, they turned toward the east and lifted their eyes heavenward, where, again becoming part of the sunlight, they gradually disappeared from my view.

He decided to share this experience in his ­commencement speech instead of promoting the idea of selling the land. After finishing his comments he sat down, and everyone present was silent. I have always loved how Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, when he was BYU president, told what happened next:

Longtime BYU benefactor Jesse Knight jumped to his feet and shouted, “We won’t sell an acre. We won’t sell a single lot.” And he turned to President George Brimhall and pledged several thousand dollars to the future of the university.

When Brian Breshears and his friends started discussing religion and the purpose of life, they always seemed to come up short on answers. In fact, they often felt that things were way over their heads. But they knew somebody, somewhere, had to know the truth. That’s when the name Mickelle Thompson popped into Brian’s head. Of course, he thought, Mickelle has an answer for everything.
Several hours later, Brian and his friends met Mickelle and her friend Lindsey Miller at a local restaurant. At the time, this scene in Chesapeake, Virginia, made for an interesting picture: two clean-cut, LDS teenage girls with open scriptures on one side of the table. Three scruffy-looking boys, sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes, on the other side.
That picture, however, has changed. Today Brian is sitting on Lindsey and Mickelle’s side of the table.
Brian’s transition actually began several months earlier in drama class. As usual, Brian started his day with a glance at the call board, a bulletin board drama students at Great Bridge High School must check three times a day to note auditions and rehearsals. Usually it contains pretty run-of-the-mill stuff, but something different caught Brian’s eye that morning—a colorful flyer announcing that Mickelle Thompson was willing to answer questions about a recent 60 Minutes episode featuring her church’s prophet. Brian hadn’t seen the interview, but he knew Mickelle was LDS. All the kids in drama called her “the Mormon.” “I saw her at lunch that day and asked her about the interview,” says Brian. Mickelle gave him a videotape of the interview, and he watched it that night.
“I was a little bit curious and wanted to know more,” Brian says. His curiosity led to more questions—questions which Mickelle and Lindsey always seemed to know the answers to, no matter how or when Brian asked them.
Before the meeting at the restaurant, Mickelle had been the center of attention at a drama cast party. “Mickelle was sitting off to the side, and I started talking to her, and everyone started joking around about her being Mormon,” Brian says. “We asked her about anything. I remember she was so calm and collected with it; she answered our questions seriously.”
Then there were the conversations over lunch at school with other friends who had seen Mickelle’s note. “We’d sit by the wall, and I’d bring my scriptures every day and just talk about all sorts of things,” says Mickelle. “I would go home, and with my dad I’d stay up late at night and look up things in the scriptures to answer their questions.”
When Brian met up with Mickelle and Lindsey at the restaurant a couple of weeks later, he was once again impressed. “I had gone to a lot of churches before that and asked questions and they couldn’t really answer them. But Lindsey and Mickelle were quick to answer my questions.”
Brian revelled in their responses. “He just soaked everything in,” Lindsey says. And he did so for good reason. “At the time, mentally, I didn’t know who I was. I was totally lost,” Brian says. “I felt like I had hit bottom. I guess that’s when they came along. I didn’t know what I believed. I didn’t have anything to hang on to. They were there when I needed answers.”
School ended for the year, and slowly Brian started coming to church. He asked more questions and continued his friendship with Lindsey and Mickelle. For months he went to Sunday meetings and Wednesday night activities. “Things started to change in my life the more I went to church,” Brian says.
By the end of the summer, Lindsey knew that Brian was up to a bigger challenge—the early-morning seminary type of challenge. But getting Brian to wake up at five every morning wouldn’t be easy. So Lindsey made a deal with him.
She had six books to finish for a summer reading assignment, and she told Brian that she’d finish her homework in the last three days of their summer break if he’d go to seminary and be present 80 percent of the time.
Brian didn’t expect Lindsey to come through. “I said, ‘That’s an easy deal. I’ll take that one,’” Brian says. “But come the first day of seminary, I was sitting there.”
Eventually, Brian had asked almost every question possible, and Lindsey knew it was time for her to ask a question. Brian said yes, and soon the local missionaries, Elders Vasas and Chugg, taught him the first discussion.
They began at a normal pace. Then one night, the missionaries showed Brian a video about the early Saints and their struggles to build a temple. Brian had never asked much about the early history of the Church and was amazed at what he learned. “I was totally taken back by this video and the dedication shown by the Church through all these trials,” Brian says. “When the video was over, I said, ‘I want to speed the discussions up. I’d like to get baptized.’”
On November 6, 1996, the day before his birthday, Brian entered the waters of baptism. Thirty nonmember friends came to his baptism. New friends from seminary and church filled the chapel. Of course, Lindsey and Mickelle were there too. Just about everyone who had answered Brian’s questions in the past six months was there to see him make this covenant.
“My baptism day was the most awesome experience of my life because I had so much to be wiped clean,” says Brian. “It was the most releasing feeling I’d ever had to know that I could be forgiven.”
Brian’s future is looking up. So are Lindsey Miller’s and Mickelle Thompson’s. While Brian found the gospel, Lindsey and Mickelle found the joy that comes from sharing it.
“I’ve learned how to use the scriptures a whole lot more and share them with other people. It’s really not a hard thing to do,” Mickelle says.
Lindsey says, “When I got to know Brian, I didn’t really think he would be likely to join the Church. I don’t know how a person could have been in more trouble. He went from the very bottom to the very top. I’ve now learned that you can try to share the gospel with anybody.”
Right now Brian is waiting for his mission call to share the gospel with “just about anybody.” Already, he’s started serving the Lord through missionary work. He’s given a Book of Mormon to his parents. Lindsey and Mickelle marvel at the example he’s been to other youth in the area as they’ve faced struggles and temptations. “He’s the one setting the example now,” they both echo.
And nothing could be more true for the young man who once sat, full of questions, at a table with two bright girls who seemed to have an answer for everything. Now Brian sits with them and shares the joy that comes from knowing.
Editor’s Note: Brian Breshears is now serving in the Dominican Republic Santo Domingo West Mission.

“Miss Flores, what this world needs is a way of making people happier and healthier. Families just aren’t what they used to be.”
With that, Governor Eulogio Rodriguez of the Province of Rizal, the Philippines, turned to his desk and his thoughts. He was quite surprised when, a few minutes later, there was a knock at his door and in came two young LDS missionaries. He was even more surprised when they explained a program that would increase the efficiency of his staff by making their families happier and healthier than ever before.
The elders told him about Health Awareness ’76, a health fair presented by the Church’s International Health Team in the Philippines Manila Mission. The governor was so excited with the idea that he called a staff meeting to present a preview of the fair, and in fact, directed all of his employees and their families to attend.
Health Awareness ’76, just an idea in the minds of 11 young health services missionaries in its beginning, exploded into one of the most dynamic ways of introducing the gospel of Jesus Christ ever seen in the Philippines. A vast amount of practical health information on nutrition, disease prevention, and child care was assembled in unique, eye-catching ways that stimulated the curiosity of both the professional and the layman. It was presented in Manila and in several other cities throughout the Philippines.
The enthusiastic response of the various government organizations and community leaders was overwhelming. Over 20 agencies contributed information and personnel for the fair. National and private corporations became so interested in the project that many of them donated equipment and professional assistance in demonstrations. Displays, films, lectures, workshops, and booths were set up to educate the people of the Philippines about hygiene, nutrition, and other important items of health care awareness.
A display called Careless Charley taught the value of personal cleanliness and proper food preparation and sanitation as a preventative measure against parasites. Nearly 92 percent of the children in the Philippines suffer from some type of parasite; most are preventable with good hygiene.
The mobile X-ray van of the Philippines Tuberculosis Society provided free chest X-rays and medical consultation. The Heart Center for Asia demonstrated mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, and even a heart monitor was displayed.
Doctors James O. Mason and Isaac Ferguson flew from Salt Lake City to attend the health fair. In his opening statement, Dr. Mason, director of Church Welfare Services, pointed out that “the Church not only helps people prepare for eternal life, but it also helps them to be strong, healthy, and happy on earth.”
Public awareness of the Church’s concern for the health of its members increased when GTV-4, a national television station, devoted an entire 30-minute show called “Health Talk” to the Health Fair. During the interview, Miss Yvonne Nite, the hostess ot the show, asked Dr. Mason: “We’ve heard about your church’s beliefs regarding the use of alcohol, tobacco, and coffee. What are the medical reasons behind these beliefs?”
Dr. Mason’s impressive response was: “The Church believes in divine revelation from a Heavenly Father who loves his children. All revelation is given to us through a living prophet. It is interesting to note that 150 years ago, the Lord revealed to a prophet that alcohol, tobacco, coffee, and tea are harmful to our bodies. The scientists and doctors of today are only now discovering that these substances are dangerous.”
Aided by stupendous advertising and hundreds of hours of work by determined, excited proselyting missionaries, the total number who attended the fair at the Araneta Coliseum in Manila exceeded 15,000 in the first three days.
After only one week, the Philippines Manila Mission was flooded with referrals. In fact, one of the mission assistants exclaimed, “I just can’t believe it, over 12,000 referral cards after only two areas. What will the tour of the provinces bring?”
The health fair has prompted enthusiastic action by Church members in an effort to improve their standards of health. Members who discovered that their children were undernourished received instruction and counseling on nutrition from local government agencies as well as their Relief Society teachers. With the cooperation of the local health departments, thousands were immunized against cholera, typhoid, small pox, tuberculosis, and polio. Several active cases of tuberculosis and other respiratory ailments were discovered, and proper rehabilitative measures are being taken.
Thousands of garden seeds were sold to encourage home gardeners, and local wards and branches were planning their own welfare projects. Tiny seedlings began springing up in tin cans and flower pots all over Manila. Garden plots were cultivated where space was available, and families will save hundreds of pesos in food costs as they harvest their own tomatoes, lettuce, squash, and beans.
Thousands of seeds have been planted, but not only those that yield tomatoes, squash, or other vegetables. The Philippines Manila Mission and the Church will yet reap a bountiful harvest in terms of public appreciation, cooperation, and support, in increased member activity and productivity, and in converts who first learned that the Church existed when they attended Health Awareness ’76, the health affair of the year.

I couldn’t help looking back. My feet were moving one way and my heart the other. Through my tears I could see Mama still standing on the porch. She was getting smaller with each step I took.
So many times I had asked her, “Must I be the one to go, Mama? I am only eleven years old. Are you sure I can do it all by myself?” And each time she reassured me. Yes, I was the one to go. And yes, this was Heavenly Father’s way for me to reach Zion. With Mama praying for me, I knew I shouldn’t doubt.
Mama wanted awfully bad to go west with the Saints. She had no money for such a great undertaking, but she was a woman of faith and knew that her prayers would be answered.
Then Mama found a way for me to go. An elderly blind lady needed a companion to help her walk across the many, many miles of hazardous terrain to the mountains of Utah. So that is how I came to leave my mother and my family and cross the plains without them.
When I left, tears were streaming down my face. With all the courage I could muster, I clasped hands with the blind lady and walked away.
My blurry eyes became her eyes. I guided her with my sight; she guided me with the wisdom of her years. Together we walked every step of the way through the dust and the dirt of the crude trails. After many long, tiring days, and weeks, and months, we made it!

Clay was out running the day the two young men, not much older than me, knocked on our door. I was surprised to see them in serious-looking suits because I couldn’t see a car. Instead, I saw two bicycles leaning against the porch. They wore nametags: Elder Martin and Elder Weiss.
Mom was in the kitchen cutting up vegetables for dinner. I didn’t call to her, and I had the two guys sit on the front porch in lawn chairs. They said they had a message about families, but I think I listened to them because they reminded me of Ryan—kind of young and innocent-looking, like they were playing at being grown-up in their father’s suits and ties, still riding bicycles.
They looked young, but they sounded wise and they had the kind of light about them that Ryan had. I didn’t tell them about Ryan, but their words were gentle and kind. They talked about a plan God has for his children and how he wants us to return to him.
I was intrigued, wondering how they knew so much. And as I listened, the porch, the lawn chairs, and the bicycles melted away and I felt like I was dreaming a comforting dream. Ryan, alive again. All of us happy again.
Suddenly Clay stood at the foot of the steps, breath coming out noisily, sweat dripping from his forehead.
“What are you guys trying to sell?” he demanded.
They looked at him. “We’re not selling anything. We’re teaching the gospel of Jesus Christ.”
Clay sat down and unlaced his shoes, jerking at the laces.
“Get out of here. There is no God.”
The missionaries rose but stayed where they were. Clay stood up too. He looked ready for a fight, but they calmly spoke to him. One of them said, “I know God lives and he loves us. He wants us to be happy.”
Clay became more angry. “That’s a bunch of baloney.” He shoved viciously at the bicycles, and they fell over like dominoes.
“Why did he take my brother? He was just a kid. Just a sweet little kid!” He threw his shoes at the house as hard as he could, barely missing the missionaries.
One elder looked ready to cry, but not out of fear. He said, “I felt the same way when my sister died of leukemia. But death isn’t the tragedy. Sin is. The gospel has taught me that I will see my sister again someday. Her spirit still lives on.”
His voice faded and he almost whispered. “Sometimes I can feel her near me.”
Clay stared at him for a moment, then brushed past him into the house. The elders thanked me for listening to them and asked if they could come again. I wanted them to. I wanted to know more. I wanted the comforting feeling they brought.
They did come back, and they gave me a blue book. As fall deepened into winter and it grew more serious and cold, the only thing that was in motion in our family was Clay, still running every day. The rest of us went through our routines. School, work, housework. But that was all. Anything extra took too much energy. But I did read the blue book, the Book of Mormon.
I brought the elders inside, and sometimes Mom listened briefly at the kitchen door, dish towel in her hands. She’d been a cleaning fanatic before, but now she cleaned twice as much, vacuuming twice a day.
What the elders said made so much sense.
“To every thing there is a season” (Eccles. 3:1). They said there is a pattern, a rhythm in life, and “As in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive” (1 Cor. 15:22).
Clay saw me reading the Book of Mormon one day and said, “Those guys think they have all the answers, don’t they?” I told him I had been reading and praying, and that it was helping.
“I feel closer to my Heavenly Father, and he is helping me, one day at a time, one hour at a time,” I said. “And I feel closer to Ryan too. Sometimes he seems so near that I talk to him and tell him what I’m learning.” I was surprised to hear myself telling Clay such a private thing, but maybe I did it for a reason. Clay turned away and went to his room.
In March, Elder Martin told me and Mom, “I love springtime. It comforted me so much after Michelle died. I saw the plants die in the winter and be buried in snow. But in the spring, everything came alive again. I believed in the Resurrection. I believed in God’s purposes, and I finally trusted in his wisdom to take Michelle, even though we missed her so much. I knew Michelle was free from pain and that I would see her again.” He looked earnestly into our faces. “You will see Ryan again.”
Clay had come in from running and stood quietly as Elder Martin finished speaking. It had started snowing, but I could still see the daffodils, crocuses, and tulips Mom and I had planted the week before Ryan died, their yellows, blues, and reds brilliant against the pasty sky.
The elders smiled at Clay and shook his hand. Clay dropped his hat, and Elder Martin picked it up. He scooped a tiny bit of snow into his hands and it immediately melted.
“Look at snowflakes,” he said, looking at his wet palm. “No two alike, but they each have a pattern. You don’t see it unless you have a microscope. You have to look closely. If God gave something so small a pattern, he certainly gave us, his children, one. We can’t see it always, so we have to trust him.”
Clay said quietly, “I ran the marathon today. Twenty-six-point-two miles. It was a killer.”
“You should have told us!” Mom said. “We would have come to cheer you on.”
He looked at me. “I thought about what you said about praying. The whole time I was praying that God could help me understand why Ryan died and help me know that he wasn’t gone for good. Near the end of the race, I was the only one in front. I don’t even remember passing the other runners. It was like Ryan was running next to me, saying, ‘Go for it. You’re gonna win. Listen to your feet; keep up the rhythm; keep up the pace.’ And I won. I think I understand now. Ryan was like a sprinter. His race was quick, over in a few seconds. The rest of us are going for distance, though we don’t know when our own race will end.” His eyes filled, and he rubbed them with the back of his hand.
His voice dropped. “Ryan’s alive. His spirit is still alive.”
Elder Martin turned to Clay. “You’re right. You will see him again and be with him.” His eyes shone.
Elder Weiss said, “Hey, Clay, you’ve inspired us to start running every morning. What if we come by here on our way and pick you up? We can do some running together, and you can give us some pointers.”
Clay nodded. His breathing had slowed. He looked more healthy and alive than he’d looked for a long time. “Yeah, sure. That’d be okay.”
I watched the elders pedal away, smiling and talking like brothers, their long coats flapping behind them, ears already red with cold. Even though they wore dark suits, they seemed as bright as our flowers against the dull sky. Part of the pattern was becoming clear to me, and I knew those two young men would be connected to our family forever.
The snow changed to sleet, hitting the window with a pinging sound Ryan would have liked.

Another semester passed, and a wonderful friend of mine who was serving in our bishopric came to me and said, “Paul, we know you are over there at Chapman. Our Special Interest group is studying about the Holy Land. You know some of those Bible scholars at Chapman. Do you have any contacts that could come over and give us a lecture on the Holy Land?”

I said, “I think so.” I approached my friend, Guy Davis. This was a man who received a very impressive honorarium when he’d go to other churches to lecture. Dr. Davis was one of the first who instituted student tours to the Holy Land 27 years ago, and he had developed a tremendous process of explaining and expressing the spirit of that wonderful place. I went to him and I said, “The Special Interest group in our church is having a lecture on the Holy Land, and we wondered if you could come and talk to them.”

“Oh,” he said, “I’d be honored.”

He checked his calendar and had to cancel out another Protestant appointment. I said, “Hold it; don’t do that. We don’t pay honorariums. You remember one of the unique differences of our church and all other churches is that we are a lay church. At best, I may be able to get you two cookies and a glass of punch.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I’d be honored to come.”

He came. On the night of the special event, since he did not know where our church was located, I decided to pick him up. It was a chance for another visit. The meeting was scheduled for 7:30. We arrived at the church at 7:15. There was a familiar sight. The ward was dark. No one around. I sat out in front of the chapel, giving him another little two-and-a-half-minute talk on the lay nature of the Mormon Church and how different we are from other faiths. 7:20, and from out of no-where came the first Latter-day Saint with a set of keys. She opened a door, and lights went on, and then that interesting Mormon phenomenon occurred. Mormons came from everywhere. I thought some of them had parachuted in. One by one they scurried in. 7:25, I got out of the car and escorted my friend into the chapel. We stood in the foyer for several minutes. Nobody approached us. Finally a member of the bishopric went by, and I reached out and grabbed him. I said, “Your guest is here.”

“Oh, yeah, thank you!”

We were escorted into the Relief Society room. The members were taking their seats. Have you ever watched a Mormon congregation as they gather? You know how interesting and a little different we are. I hope we never lose our informality—I like it. But there has to be some good taste and proper understanding as we exercise it. Finally, in came a lady with an armful of songbooks, and she distributed them. One by one people filled the Relief Society room. The person who was conducting got up and thumbed through the songbook: “Anybody got a song they want to sing?” The prayer was quickly offered, and the meeting was turned to me. I tried to set the stage so the spirit would be right. You young leaders know the challenge of creating the spirit and the atmosphere for teaching, don’t you? Sometimes we work against it. I wish you could have heard the lecture that night. Tremendously powerful. He was so delicate and sensitive not to offend Mormons, understanding our differences. There wasn’t anything we couldn’t have accepted, particularly as he interpreted some New Testament thinking. His part of the meeting was then concluded, and we opened it for questions. The first hand went up, and I’ll never forget the comment. A well-meaning Latter-day Saint said, “Sir, by what authority do you teach all of this?” And one by one, similar questions followed. I finally had to stand up and say, “Folks, we have a guest here tonight. Thank you for understanding.”

We ended on a high note. You Mormons have genius for recovery. You really do. As I drove my friend home that night, I gave him another little talk on the lay nature of the Mormon Church. But I have often thought as I have reflected back on those experiences: If you were a Baptist or a Catholic or a Jew coming from the east coast to California, and you went to the First Methodist Church in Glendale, and then you came to a wonderful only-true-Church ward in Hollywood, which church would you want to join? Now think about it. I appreciate that knowledge and understanding and rationale are vital tools in learning truth. I submit again a very important principle of the gospel—that the Spirit is the revealing force. When the Spirit speaks to the spirit, a person comes to know, and this whole field of courtesy and delight, I think, is the vehicle through which the Spirit tends to move.

HI!
My name is Cory Kennedy, and I live in Sandy, Utah. My good friends, Stuart Weichers and Mark Jensen, and I had a really neat experience last year. We’re members of Cub Scout Pack 953, and the three of us won first place in the National Cub Scout Physical Fitness Contest.
Each Cub Scout pack participating in the competition had an eight-year-old Cub Scout, a nine-year-old Cub Scout, and a ten-year-old Cub Scout on its team. Teams compete against teams from other packs in five different events: sit-ups, pushups, the broad jump, the softball throw, and the fifty-yard dash. My dad was our Cubmaster, and in our own pack competition Mark was the eight-year-old winner, Stuart was the nine-year-old winner, and I was the ten-year-old winner. We have a lot of really good athletes in our neighborhood, so our pack competition was tough.
The three of us decided to work out together before and after school. We took turns going to each other’s houses for workouts. Sometimes our parents or older brothers coached us, and sometimes we just worked out by ourselves. My dad let me borrow his stopwatch so we could tell how we were doing. Our families really pulled for us to do well.
We knew we had to score as high as we could in every event, but each of us also had a specialty that we kept trying to improve on. Mark has awfully strong legs, and he could broad jump a long way. Stuart could do more push-ups than the rest of us. And sit-ups were my best event.
When we first started working out as a team, we were doing about forty push-ups and forty sit-ups a minute. Then each day we would add one or two more. We pushed each other pretty hard, and we even made a game out of it. Mark and I are University of Utah fans, and Stuart is a Brigham Young University booster, and we pretended that it was the Utes against the Cougars.
After winning in our district competition, we competed against all the district winners from the Great Salt Lake Council. Boy, were we nervous! But our hard training paid off. Each of us gave it everything he had, and we scored well in all of the events. Just as we had hoped, Mark won in the broad jump (sixty-nine inches), Stuart won in the push-ups (eighty-nine in one minute), and I won in the sit-ups (ninety-six in one minute).
We won the council competition, and our scores were sent to Boy Scout headquarters in Irving, Texas. After a few weeks we were notified that we had won the national championship. We were really excited. You should see the huge trophies we received! Our families are really proud of us, and each of us had a super feeling. I think we all learned a very important lesson in the competition: Nothing is impossible, and you can do anything you want to if you are willing to work hard enough.

When Elder Widtsoe was released as president of the mission in 1934, I started correspondence with Elder Joseph F. Merrill, who succeeded him. He arranged to send me the Millennial Star, which I received until 1940 when World War II interrupted the subscription.
In January 1937, Elder Richard R. Lyman, successor to President Merrill, wrote that he and Elder Hugh B. Brown would be in Rome on a certain day. I could meet them there and be baptized. However, the letter was delayed because of war conditions, and I did not receive it in time.
From then until 1949, I was cut off from all news of the Church, but I remained a faithful follower and preached the gospel of the dispensation of the fulness of times. I had copies of the standard works, and I translated chapters into Italian and sent them to acquaintances with the greeting, “Good day. The morning breaks—Jehovah speaks!”
On February 13, 1949, I sent a letter to Elder Widtsoe at Church headquarters in Salt Lake City. Elder Widtsoe answered my letter on October 3, 1950, explaining that he had been in Norway. I sent him a long letter in reply in which I asked him to help me to be quickly baptized, because I felt that I had proven myself to be a faithful son and servant of God, observing the laws and commandments of his kingdom. Elder Widtsoe asked President Samuel E. Bringhurst of the Swiss-Austrian Mission to go to Sicily to baptize me.
On January 18, 1951, President Bringhurst arrived on the island and baptized me at Imerese. Apparently, this was the first baptism performed in Sicily. Then, on April 28, 1956, I entered the temple at Bern, Switzerland, and received my endowment. At last, to be in the presence of my Heavenly Father! I felt that God’s promise had been fully fulfilled—the day had come indeed when the source of the book was known to me and I was able to enjoy the effects of my faith.

Last general conference, I was called by President Monson to be the new Young Women general president. As I stood in the presence of a prophet of God and was given this sacred trust, I pledged that I would serve with all my heart, might, mind, and strength. Prior to this calling, I had a small plate inscribed with a motto that read, “I can do hard things.” That little plate bearing that simple motto gave me courage. But now if I could change that motto, it would read: “In the strength of the Lord, I can do all things.” It is on that strength that I rely today as I stand at this sacred pulpit.
Last April, two days after general conference, we held our first meeting as a newly sustained presidency. We hiked to the top of Ensign Peak, and as we looked on the valley below, we saw the temple with the angel Moroni shining in the sun. For each of us, it was clear. The vision for our presidency was the temple. And our responsibility was also clear. We must “help prepare each young woman to be worthy to make and keep sacred covenants and receive the ordinances of the temple.”
The temple is the reason for everything we do in the Church. The temple was the reason our pioneer ancestors left their established homes and came west. It was the reason they suffered privation and even death. Temple covenants were the reason that, although babies were buried along the way, those pioneers could sing:
Come, come, ye Saints,
No toil nor labor fear;
But with joy wend your way.
Some lost everything but came into the valley with everything, really—temple ordinances, sacred covenants, and the promise of eternal life together as families.
Just two days after the Saints arrived in the Salt Lake Valley, Brigham Young and his associates hiked Ensign Peak. Atop that peak they unfurled a banner—a yellow bandana tied to a walking stick, which symbolized an ensign or standard to the nations. The Saints were to be the light, the standard. Last April, atop Ensign Peak, we three women also unfurled a banner which we made from a walking stick and a gold Peruvian shawl. It was our ensign, our standard to the nations—our banner calling for a return to virtue.
Virtue is a prerequisite to entering the Lord’s holy temples and to receiving the Spirit’s guidance. Virtue “is a pattern of thought and behavior based on high moral standards.” It encompasses chastity and moral purity. Virtue begins in the heart and in the mind. It is nurtured in the home. It is the accumulation of thousands of small decisions and actions. Virtue is a word we don’t hear often in today’s society, but the Latin root word virtus means strength. Virtuous women and men possess a quiet dignity and inner strength. They are confident because they are worthy to receive and be guided by the Holy Ghost. President Monson has counseled: “You be the one to make a stand for right, even if you stand alone. Have the moral courage to be a light for others to follow. There is no friendship more valuable than your own clear conscience, your own moral cleanliness—and what a glorious feeling it is to know that you stand in your appointed place clean and with the confidence that you are worthy to do so.”
Could it be that we have been slowly desensitized into thinking that high moral standards are old-fashioned and not relevant or important in today’s society? As Elder Hales has just reminded us, Lehonti in the Book of Mormon was well positioned on the top of a mountain. He and those he led were “fixed in their minds with a determined resolution” that they would not come down from the mount. It only took the deceitful Amalickiah four tries, each one more bold than the previous, to get Lehonti to “come down off from the mount.” And then having embraced Amalickiah’s false promises, Lehonti was “poison[ed] by degrees” until he died. Not just poisoned, but “by degrees.” Could it be that this may be happening today? Could it be that first we tolerate, then accept, and eventually embrace the vice that surrounds us? Could it be that we have been deceived by false role models and persuasive media messages that cause us to forget our divine identity? Are we too being poisoned by degrees? What could be more deceptive than to entice the youth of this noble generation to do nothing or to be busy ever-texting but never coming to a knowledge of the truths contained in a book that was written for you and your day by prophets of God—the Book of Mormon? What could be more deceptive than to entice women, young and old, you and me, to be so involved in ourselves, our looks, our clothes, our body shape and size that we lose sight of our divine identity and our ability to change the world through our virtuous influence? What could be more deceptive than to entice men—young and old, holding the holy priesthood of God—to view seductive pornography and thus focus on flesh instead of faith, to be consumers of vice rather than guardians of virtue? The Book of Mormon relates the story of 2,000 young heroes whose virtue and purity gave them the strength to defend their parents’ covenants and their family’s faith. Their virtue and commitment to be “true at all times” changed the world!
I truly believe that one virtuous young woman or young man, led by the Spirit, can change the world, but in order to do so, we must return to virtue. We must engage in strict training. As the marathon runner Juma Ikangaa said after winning the New York Marathon, “The will to win is nothing without the will to prepare.” Now is the time to prepare by exercising more self-discipline. Now is the time to become “more fit for the kingdom.” Now is the time to set our course and focus on the finish. A return to virtue must begin individually in our hearts and in our homes.
What can each of us do to begin our return to virtue? The course and the training program will be unique to each of us. I have derived my personal training program from instructions found in the scriptures: “Let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly.” “Cleave unto [your] covenants.” “Stand … in holy places.” “Lay aside the things of [the] world.” “Believe that ye must repent.” “Always remember him and keep his commandments.” And “if there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, … seek after these things.” Now more than ever before, it is time to respond to Moroni’s call to “awake, and arise” and to “lay hold upon every good gift, and touch not the evil gift, nor the unclean thing.”
Recently I attended the blessing of our newest granddaughter. It was a holy sight to me as my husband and our sons, along with many other loved ones, encircled this little infant. She was so elegant all dressed in white—and it didn’t hurt a bit that she was named after her two grandmothers! But the thing that touched me most was the blessing given by her father, our son Zach. He blessed little Annabel Elaine that she would understand her identity as a daughter of God, that she would follow the examples of her mother, grandmothers, and sister, and that she would find great joy as she lived a virtuous life and prepared to make and keep sacred temple covenants. In that sacred moment, I prayed that every young woman might be encircled, strengthened, and protected by righteous priesthood power, not only at the time of birth and blessing but throughout life.
During the solemn assembly last conference when President Uchtdorf called for the sustaining of our new prophet and First Presidency, I watched the entire congregation of priesthood brethren arise and stand. I felt your strength and your priesthood power. You are the guardians of virtue. Then I was overcome with emotion when he said, “Will the young women please arise?” From my seat, I saw all of you arise and stand together. Today there could be no more powerful force for virtue in the world. You must never underestimate the power of your righteous influence.

Ben rested his arm on the suitcase next to him in the car. Mom and Dad were driving him to Grandpa’s house. Ben was going to stay with his grandpa for one whole week. No brothers, no baby sister—just Ben and Grandpa.
Ben had talked to Grandpa about their week together. Grandpa said it was Ben’s week and they could do all of Ben’s favorite things. Ben looked out the window. Did he remember to pack everything? He had packed his lucky fishing hat, his sunglasses, and his favorite books.
“Now, remember,” Mom said from the front seat, “Grandpa isn’t a member of our church. He’s a good person and a good grandpa. But some things at his house will seem different to you.”
“Like what?” Ben knew his grandpa didn’t go to church. But he hadn’t thought about how that would be different.
“You might have to remind him that you don’t drink iced tea,” Dad said.
“OK,” Ben said.
“You won’t be able to go to church on Sunday, but you can keep the Sabbath day holy in other ways,” Mom said.
“I will,” Ben said.
When they arrived at Grandpa’s house, Grandpa was waiting for them on the porch. Ben was the first one out of the car. “Grandpa!”
“How’s my favorite seven-year-old?” Grandpa gave Ben a big hug. “Are you ready for your very own special week? You get to choose what we do together.”
“Can we go fishing?” Ben asked. “I brought my lucky fishing hat.”
“Sure we can,” Grandpa said.
“And can we go to the zoo?” Ben asked. “I brought my sunglasses.”
“Sure we can,” Grandpa said.
“And can we read together?” Ben asked. “I brought my favorite books.”
“Sure we can,” Grandpa said. “And I think we need a shopping trip so you can pick out a toy at the store.”
“Wow,” Ben said. “This is going to be a great week!”
On Friday, Grandpa and Ben went fishing.
On Saturday, Grandpa and Ben went to the zoo.
The next day, Grandpa made pancakes for breakfast. “Today is our shopping day,” Grandpa said.
“Yippee!” Ben exclaimed. “What kind of toy should I get?”
Then Ben remembered—it was Sunday. How could he explain to Grandpa about not shopping on Sunday?
After breakfast Ben said a prayer in his room. He asked Heavenly Father to help him explain to Grandpa about keeping the Sabbath day holy.
After the prayer Ben sat on his bed. Grandpa called to Ben, “Just let me put on my shoes, and we’ll be off.”
Ben took a deep breath and stood up. He found Grandpa tying his shoes.
“Grandpa, thank you for taking me fishing and to the zoo. But I think today we should take a rest.”
“What do you mean?” Grandpa asked. “I promised to take you shopping.”
“I know, but do you think we could go another day?”
“Are you OK? Are you sick?”
“No, Grandpa,” Ben said. “Today is Sunday. At my house we don’t go shopping on Sunday.”
Grandpa didn’t say anything.
“Can we stay home today?” Ben asked. “We can take a walk. We can read books.”
Grandpa smiled at Ben. “Sure we can,” he said. “It’s your very own week, so you get to choose.”
Ben gave Grandpa a big hug. “I knew this would be a great week,” Ben said.

When I was young I was overly dependent on my older sister. For example, I was a fussy eater, and when we went to visit our grandparents I was constantly faced with being offered food I didn’t like. To minimize my embarrassment, when the plate was passed to me, I would turn to my sister and ask, “Collene, do I like this?”
If it was familiar and she knew I didn’t like it, she would say, “No, he doesn’t like that.”
I could then say to Grandma, “She’s right. I don’t like it.”
If it was something we hadn’t eaten before, she would say, “Just a minute,” and taste it, and then tell me if I liked it or not. If she said I didn’t like it, no amount of coaxing could get me to eat it.
I know it is past time for me to rely on my own taste buds and stop denying myself healthy food just because my sister told me I didn’t like it.

But the boys did their part too. “We recruited everybody to be in the troop,” said Brother Steurer’s son Rodney, 14. His brother Geoffrey, 13, and another Scout, Mark Choate, 15, said that soon their friends Michael Bradfield and Neil Hammock were part of the troop, and of course they asked lots of questions about the Church. Now both Mike and Neil are not only Scouts, but also members of the deacons and teachers quorums, both serving in leadership positions.

The scriptures say the Sabbath day is a holy day, a joyful and delightful day, a day of rest, a day to celebrate.1 But a few years ago, while in my late teens, I found Sundays miserable. Instead of peace, I felt stress. Instead of joy, sadness. Instead of hope, guilt. I had a full-on case of the Sabbath blues.
Each Sunday morning, after an embarrassing amount of time hiding under my covers, I’d finally admit it was indeed Sunday and get dressed for church. At church, I’d review my past week. During the sacrament, I would add up all my failures, never finishing before the first speaker got up. The rest of church became a battle of staving off tears as the guilt intensified with the new regret of feeling so rotten at church.
The afternoon was much the same. I’d feel guilt about past choices, stress about future choices, and sadness about present circumstances. Without school and extracurricular activities to distract me, I would spend my time dwelling on negative thoughts.
After listening to, reading, and then re-reading President Russell M. Nelson’s April 2015 general conference talk about how the Sabbath is a delight, I prayed for peace on and love for the Sabbath rather than the misery I currently felt.2 And an answer came.
I felt prompted to shift my focus from my woes to my relationship with Heavenly Father and the Savior. Rather than ponder my failures, I took time to ponder Their involvement in my life.
When negative thoughts came, I repeated to myself what I knew and believed about God and Jesus Christ: I am a child of God. He loves me. Jesus Christ is my Brother, and He atoned for me. They want me to be happy and return to Them. The Sabbath is a gift from God.
I began to exercise faith in this testimony.
Changing my focus led me to also reconsider how I approached the sacrament. For so long I had treated the sacrament as time to punish myself. But that’s not its purpose. The sacrament is a sacred ordinance to renew our covenants. It is a chance to become clean again through the atoning power of Jesus Christ. Focusing on the ordinance and the covenant with faith and a repentant heart, I realized that the sacrament offered peace as I accepted the gift of forgiveness, kept my covenants, and received the Lord’s Spirit (see D&C 20:77, 79).
Thinking of Christ’s Atonement during the sacrament brought another gift to my mind. Not only could I be forgiven, but I could also receive healing because my Savior took upon Himself my pain and infirmities (see Alma 7:11–12). Through His Atonement and the sacrament, I could find peace and strength on the Sabbath—or on any other day—rather than stress and sadness.
And I found that peace. My Savior is there for me on Sundays and always!
This wasn’t a one-week fix. It was a struggle, and it took time. “But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it” (Romans 8:25). I kept working on my focus and praying to feel love for the Sabbath.
In time, I did find peace and delight on that holy day, but I couldn’t quit there or I’d again slide into the Sabbath slumps. Each week requires diligent focus on the Savior and the purpose of the Sabbath, but I know the promise of peace and joy is true.

Shortly after the 1985 April general conference, a guest band and chorus were to perform with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. This event was being recorded, so there was a great deal of equipment set up in the Tabernacle.
The department I managed was responsible for tuning the great pipe organ. Fluctuation of the building’s temperature greatly affects the sound of this fine instrument. The performance had occurred on an especially warm night, so afterward we had left the Tabernacle doors open to allow the fresh evening air into the building. The organ could then cool down and be tuned for the next evening’s concert.
Unknown to us, a sparrow had flown into the Tabernacle while the doors were open. The building was later closed, and the bird was not discovered until the next morning.
When I arrived at work, I received a phone call from my employees, who had spent several hours trying to remove this bird from the Tabernacle. The Salt Lake City animal control people had been called, and they came with long-handled nets to capture the sparrow.
When I entered the building I found my employees racing back and forth through the Tabernacle, waving the long nets at the frightened bird. As they would run to one end with the nets, the frantic sparrow would fly to the other end of the building.
It flew from the top of the facade of the great pipe organ to the back of the building, where it would perch atop a bench. The only thing the nets accomplished was to terrify an already frightened bird. It couldn’t recognize that all the doors in the building were open for its escape.
The animal control people brought some pellet guns. Although they were not allowed to fire them on private property, they pointed out that our employees could borrow them to shoot the sparrow.
I immediately stopped that idea. The ceiling in the 118-year-old building was the original—made from plaster combined with fine animal hair to give it stability and its beautiful acoustic—and I didn’t want it damaged by pellets. There were other practical reasons not to shoot at the bird, including the risk of damaging the delicate recording equipment and musical instruments still on the stand. But more important, I did not feel it would be appropriate to kill this tiny creature. I remembered a talk by President Spencer W. Kimball about not shooting little birds.
The animal control people then suggested setting poisoned food out for the bird. I didn’t feel right about that, either. But the bird needed to be removed from the Tabernacle as quickly as possible. That night there would be a full house with several General Authorities and other dignitaries in attendance.
As the bird continued to fly back and forth, chirping loudly, the thought came to me that if this bird was important to Heavenly Father, perhaps I should ask him how to get it out of the building. I turned my back to the others, bowed my head, and said a simple prayer: “Heavenly Father, if this sparrow is important to you, could you please let us know how to safely remove it?”
I immediately had a strong impression of what to do. Closing the prayer, I turned and gave instructions to the workers. They turned off all the lights in the building, shut the window blinds, and closed all but one of the doors.
At that moment, the bird was perched on top of the organ’s facade. Suddenly he left his high perch, swooped down low, and flew out the open door to freedom.

In the city of Bangalore the Roshan family was introduced to the gospel through an uncle. At the time, Rakesh, 18, or “Rocky” as everyone calls him, was the only family member to be baptized. He wasn’t serious at first, but as he attended church, read the scriptures, and heard the testimonies of others, he gained a testimony of his own. After his baptism, however, Rocky became somewhat inactive and the elders began to visit the family regularly again. This led to the baptism of Rocky’s older brother, Dinesh, whose example of faithfulness and love not only led Rocky back into activity, but led their parents to the waters of baptism also.

Expectant silence fills the living room where 80-year-old Ronald Bowles sits surrounded by teenagers.
“I’ll never forget my first trip as an officer in the South Pacific,” Brother Bowles begins, recounting an experience he had on a ship as a U.S. Marine during World War II. “It was a moonlit night, and I was on watch. Off the bow, on the starboard side, three torpedoes were coming straight for us.”
Now at full attention, the young men and women of the Tempe Arizona Stake listen anxiously as Brother Bowles continues: “I was just about to reach for the general alarm bell … when two or three porpoises swerved right by the bow and took off.”
The teens laugh with relief that the threatening torpedoes turned out to be nothing more than porpoises.

Another example: After I served as president of Brigham Young University for nine years, I was released. A few months later the governor of the state of Utah appointed me to a 10-year term on the supreme court of the state. I was then 48 years old. My wife June and I tried to plan the rest of our lives. We wanted to serve the full-time mission neither of us had been privileged to serve. We planned that I would serve 20 years on the state supreme court. Then, at the end of two 10-year terms, when I would be nearly 69 years old, I would retire from the supreme court and we would submit our missionary papers and serve a mission as a couple.
I had my 69th birthday two years ago and was vividly reminded of that important plan. If things had gone as we planned, I would have submitted papers to serve a mission with my wife June.
Four years after we made that plan I was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles—something we never dreamed would happen. Realizing then that the Lord had different plans and different timing than we had assumed, I resigned as a justice of the supreme court. But this was not the end of the important differences. When I was 66, my wife June died of cancer. Two years later I married Kristen McMain, the eternal companion who now stands at my side.

Not long after receiving my blessing, I came home from Sunday School. Our lesson had been about Joseph Smith’s First Vision, and I was wondering if it was really true. My father was leaving for a Church meeting. I stopped him and asked, “Dad, how do we really know that Joseph Smith had that vision?” My father put his arm around me, and we sat on the sofa in our living room. There he shared with me the Prophet Joseph’s account, and my father bore his own testimony of its truthfulness. That experience with my father burns in my heart today. Since then I have never doubted the Prophet Joseph’s account of his First Vision.