Gospel Story Finder

A convert since May 1970, twenty-one-year-old Linda Lee MacArthur lives in New York City, is a member of the Manhattan Ward, New York Stake, and has been part of the New York City Ballet Company for eight years. Although she had no burning desire to join a church two years ago, she became friends with “a very special Latter-day Saint girl, Diana Bradshaw,” who was also in the ballet company.
“At that time in my life,” said Linda, “the most important thing to me was a new dress. I had my own apartment and wanted to be chic in all I did. Things were fine until I became very sick and began to feel a religious need. Then, coincidentally, my Mormon neighbor invited me to a parent-youth night production and I became interested in the Church.”
Linda likes to tell of her ballet career and what means the most to her.
“I’ve been in ballet a long time. I started to learn when I was three years old and living in Dorchester, Massachusetts. As a child I also took up drama and singing and performed in off-Broadway productions such as Peter Pan. It was my mother who prompted me, but I didn’t begin to study ballet seriously until I moved to New York when I was eleven. I was asked by the New York City Ballet Corporation to be an apprentice for The Nutcracker, but I didn’t appreciate the honor and wanted to go home for the summer to enjoy swimming and have fun. The following year I was given the same opportunity; I accepted and began my professional career. I apprenticed until I was thirteen because it was unheard of to have anyone so young in the company. But when the company went to Europe, I got a chaperone and became an official member of the team.
“My European tour taught me a lot. I saw extreme luxury and poverty side by side. I gained an appreciation for my country and our way of life. It was all very exciting, and other neat opportunities came my way, such as an interview for Ladies’ Home Journal, because I was the youngest in the company.
“A great deal of self-discipline is needed in ballet. Having been an actress, dancer, and singer, I find dancing the most demanding profession of all because it takes so much of one’s time and is physically exhausting. I didn’t realize this when I first began studying. My main concern was to get into the company, but once I had made it, I found it even harder, especially since I was still in school. It was very difficult for me to keep up in school even though I went to a professional children’s school in arts and theater. I was still very young to be absent so much because of performances and rehearsals.”
Linda has a special feeling for theater and arts in general because she feels that it’s the best way she can express herself. Dance involves her total movement and expression of emotion, and she advises everyone to find the field of personal exposition that suits him best.
“My life has changed most drastically since I’ve been a member of the Church. Had I not found the truth, I wouldn’t now have the things that are important, like spirituality and the gospel. I’m not dancing very much anymore because dance takes up so much of my time that I’m not able to do the church work I feel I need to. The MIA program in particular means a lot to me, and I’m privileged to work with youth that I love dearly. Living the principles of the gospel is now my daily goal. The worst conflict between the Church and my profession is the time schedule. If I were performing, I wouldn’t be able to go to church on Sunday or to MIA. Being a new convert, it’s important for me to be there. Spiritually there is no conflict. I haven’t found the people in the theater to be wild and mysterious as they sometimes are portrayed. I think you get more of that in show business and musical comedy. Girls in our company range from sixteen to twenty-five years of age. They’re just out of school and are very dedicated. They don’t have time for the outside world, so it’s not a very wild kind of crowd.
“I often question whether I can be a Mormon and remain successful in my field. I hope it will be possible, yet I feel it’s important to have a family and raise them in the Church. That means more to me than my career. A couple of years ago I wouldn’t have given up dance for anything, but my idea of a good Latter-day Saint woman is one who is dedicated to her home and family. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to completely stop dancing after having been in the theater so long. I probably will always have the desire to perform. That’s the kind of conflict I haven’t yet resolved. I hope that if I live the gospel, the Lord will bless me with enough time to do both the way I want to.”

After recovering from three major surgeries which have prevented me from speaking in the past two general conferences, what a joy it is to be able to stand in this beautiful Conference Center today to teach and bear testimony to those who desire to hear the word of the Lord.
In the past two years, I have waited upon the Lord for mortal lessons to be taught me through periods of physical pain, mental anguish, and pondering. I learned that constant, intense pain is a great consecrating purifier that humbles us and draws us closer to God’s Spirit. If we listen and obey, we will be guided by His Spirit and do His will in our daily endeavors.
There were times when I have asked a few direct questions in my prayers, such as, “What lessons dost Thou want me to learn from these experiences?”
As I studied the scriptures during this critical period of my life, the veil was thin and answers were given to me as they were recorded in lives of others who had gone through even more severe trials.
“My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment;
“And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high” (D&C 121:7–8).
Dark moments of depression were quickly dispelled by the light of the gospel as the Spirit brought peace and comfort with assurances that all would be well.
On a few occasions I told the Lord that I had surely learned the lessons to be taught and that it wouldn’t be necessary for me to endure any more suffering. Such entreaties seemed to be of no avail, for it was made clear to me that this purifying process of testing was to be endured in the Lord’s time and in the Lord’s own way. It is one thing to teach, “Thy will be done” (Matt. 26:42). It is another to live it. I also learned that I would not be left alone to meet these trials and tribulations but that guardian angels would attend me. There were some that were near angels in the form of doctors, nurses, and most of all my sweet companion, Mary. And on occasion, when the Lord so desired, I was to be comforted with visitations of heavenly hosts that brought comfort and eternal reassurances in my time of need.
The experiences of the last two years have made me stronger in spirit and have given me courage to testify more boldly to the world the deep feelings of my heart. I stand before you today with a resolve to teach the gospel principles like the prophets of old—without the fear of man, speaking clearly with plain talk, and teaching simple gospel truths.

Christmas Island and Call to Seventy When President Workman was presiding over the Honolulu Mission, he had the responsibility for a branch of the church on Christmas Island. Christmas Island is a small island which is part of the Republic of Kiribati. We had made many trips to Christmas Island and all of them were difficult. The airplane only travelled once a week so when we went, it was always a week long affair. The accommodations were rustic to say the least and the heat oppressive. Still, the saints there were wonderful and they always wanted and needed spiritual leadership.

On one occasion, Ross told me that we needed to travel to Christmas Island to effect a change in the branch leadership. These trips always taxed me but I agreed to go and we fixed the last week of March 2001 as our travel date. We would leave early on Tuesday and return the following week Tuesday.

One morning early, as we were preparing for a week of intensive missionary zone conferences, Ross said to me: “I have a feeling we should travel to Christmas Island this very week.” I thought briefly that this would mean cancelling already planned zone conferences and otherwise rearranging a very complicated schedule. Besides, I always dreaded this trip and the very thought of moving it up would normally have caused me much stress.

However, to my surprise, I felt strongly to agree with Ross. I recognized it as a witness of the spirit. I immediately said, “I agree.” He was as surprised with my quick response as I was.

We travelled there, accomplished the work required, trained local leaders and did what we could to strengthen that branch. However, as we returned home, I could not think of any particular reason why the work we did there was of such urgency that it could not have waited for another couple of weeks as we had originally planned. There seemed to be no answer to it and Ross and I wondered if we had simply misread the powerful spirit we had both received.

The following week, the last week in March 2001, as we were sitting in a zone conference (one of those we had postponed for the Christmas Island trip), Ross got a page from the mission office. It was one of those rare urgent pages that sometimes meant serious trouble with a missionary. Ross left the conference meeting and returned sometime later. He seemed calm but I could tell he had something important on his mind. We had but barely restarted the conference when he was paged again. He left again and when he returned, he handed me a note which said only: “President Hinckley.” We spent the next several hours in the zone conference and when finally we headed out to the airport, I asked Ross: “okay, what is going on?”

He told me that he had received a call to serve as a general authority in the Seventy and President Hinckley had instructed us to be in Salt Lake City immediately. I then realized that the decision to go to Christmas Island two weeks before was a defining moment. Had we not listened to the spirit and gone on the planned schedule, we would have been away from Hawaii when President Hinckley called. We would have been isolated on Christmas Island and could not have travelled to Salt Lake for Conference. We could not have accepted the call to the Seventy because we could not have been reached and even if we had known of the call, could not have made the trip to Salt Lake to be sustained in Conference. The Lord knew we could not be on Christmas Island at the time scheduled and we did not. That we both were guided remains one of the great blessings in our lives.

“Want to get yourself a glass of milk, Frankie?” Granny Bebe asked, smiling across the table. Frankie jumped up. He found a glass and pressed it against the stainless steel lever under the milk cooler. Milk poured into his glass.
Granny Bebe owned the restaurant, and she let Frankie help himself to whatever he wanted. Mama and his sister, Mary, had left Frankie with Granny Bebe to spend a few hours while they went shopping. He loved everything about the restaurant, especially the pretty colored lamps and all the people hurrying about. Frankie didn’t want to hurt Mama’s feelings, but as soon as he was big enough, he planned to come and live with Granny Bebe. This is where the action is, he thought as Granny Bebe introduced him to some customers.
Too soon Mama and Mary were back at the restaurant. Granny Bebe gave Frankie a big hug and told him to visit her again soon.
As they drove down the highway toward home, Frankie was already missing the restaurant. The only excitement in the part of the country where he lived was an airplane flying over now and then, headed for the airport ten miles away. Frankie loved airplanes almost as much as Granny Bebe’s restaurant.
The highway passed the airport and, as they neared it, Frankie saw cars parked all around the airstrip.
“Look, Mama!” Mary said. “This is the day that the planes are taking passengers for a ride.”
Mama turned the car off the road and pulled into a parking space. Sometimes Mama did unexpected things. “I’ve never been up in a plane,” she said. “Come on, kids, let’s go.”
Almost before Frankie knew what was happening, he was flying! Two pilots sat in the front seats, he and Mama sat behind them, and Mary and another passenger sat in the rear seats. The engines of the yellow plane made a thunderous noise. Frankie leaned as far forward as his seat belt permitted so that he could hear the pilots’ conversation.
“Where to, young fellow?” one of them asked him.
“Fly over Granny’s restaurant. You know—‘Bebe’s’!” Frankie had to shout to make himself heard.
“Roger,” said the pilot.
It took only a moment for the plane to circle toward Granny’s restaurant. The buildings in town looked like a model village, and the cars looked smaller than his pocket racers. The restaurant was in a crowded area, and Frankie had a hard time locating it among the other buildings. Finally he spotted the dome-shaped building with cars sticking out like little feet around it.
Mary tapped Mama on the shoulder. “Now ask him to fly over our house!”
Mama gave the pilot directions to their home in the foothills north of the highway.
As they flew along, Frankie pressed his nose against the small window of the plane, trying to identify places on the ground. He looked at the winding river and could see miles of it all at one time. He saw the tiny houses in their tiny yards and the cars crawling like ants along the highway. He leaned forward to listen to the pilots again.
“Look over there to your right,” the man flying the plane shouted. “See that house with the bright green roof on the side of the mountain? That house is my beacon. I always spot it before the airport.”
“Me, too,” said the copilot. “When I see that green roof, I know that I’m almost home.”
“Why,” Mama exclaimed, “that’s our house!”
Frankie could see that indeed it was their house that the pilots were talking about! The green roof shone like a jewel among the gray winter trees, and their very own yellow dirt road ran along the ridge next to the sloping fields of winter wheat. And the pond at the very edge of a cliff was the most beautiful of all. Frankie had helped Grandpa Townsend build it for a fish pond. He hadn’t realized before just how pretty it was.
“I wish everyone could see his home from the air,” Mama said. “Sometimes we are too close to things to properly appreciate them.”
“It sure looks different from up here!” Mary declared.
Now Frankie could see a silver-roofed house father down the little yellow road. An old truck was parked in front of it. “Look, Mary!” Frankie cried, pointing. “There’s Grandpa Townsend’s old orange pickup! I bet that he doesn’t know that we’re way up here!”
“No!” shouted Mary in agreement. “He’s probably waiting for you to help him feed the fish!”
Suddenly Frankie could hardly wait for the plane to land. He wanted to rush home and tell Grandpa Townsend about his flight and about how different the farm looked from the air.
Maybe I won’t move to Granny Bebe’s, after all, he thought. It’s pretty special living in a house that pilots use for a beacon. And pretty soon they’ll be talking about the boy on the yellow dirt road who waves to them when they fly over.

My mind drifted back 135 years. Our people were then in Commerce, Illinois, homeless and destitute, facing the bitter winter that soon followed. They had been driven from Missouri and had fled across the Mississippi seeking asylum in Illinois. Where the river makes a wide bend, they had purchased a tract of land, beautiful in its location, but so swampy that a team could not cross it without becoming mired in mud. This site, with tremendous effort and great sacrifice, was to become Nauvoo, the Beautiful. But in 1839 it was Commerce, a rendezvous for thousands driven from their homes and now homeless. They had left behind the labors of years—houses and barns, churches and public buildings, and hundreds of productive farms. Moreover, they had left loved ones buried beneath the Missouri sod who had been killed by vicious mobocrats. Destitute now, and dispossessed, unable to get redress from Missouri, they determined to petition the president and Congress of the United States. Joseph Smith and Elias Higbee traveled to Washington.
They left Commerce on 20 October 1839, riding in a light horse-drawn buggy. They arrived in Washington five weeks later. Much of their first day was spent trying to find accommodations they could afford. They noted in a letter to Hyrum Smith: “We found as cheap boarding as can be had in this city” (History of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 4:40).
Calling upon the president of the United States, Martin Van Buren, they stated their case. Responded he: “Gentlemen, your cause is just, but I can do nothing for you. … If I take up for you I shall lose the vote of Missouri” (History of the Church, 4:80).
They then appealed to Congress. In the frustrating weeks that followed, Joseph returned to Commerce, much of the way by horseback. Judge Higbee remained to plead their cause, only finally to be told that Congress would do nothing.
How far the Church had come in the respect and confidence of public officials between 1839, when Joseph Smith was repudiated in Washington, and 1974, when the Church and its temple were welcomed and honored! Such, in essence, were the first and last chapters of my thoughts during those beautiful days at the Washington Temple.

When I opened my mission call and learned I would serve an English-speaking mission in America, I was relieved. I struggled in vain to learn a language in high school, and I was glad I wouldn’t have to deal with that again in the MTC.
During my mission I served in a Samoan ward. Most of the members spoke English as well, so we could easily work with them.
Then my companion and I began to teach a part-member family who had been raised in Samoa and had just moved to America. When one of the girls asked me to perform her baptism, I felt impressed to learn how to say the baptism prayer in Samoan. I knew my weakness in learning other languages, but my love for her and her family overcame my fear.
That night I went to another member’s house so he could teach me how to say the prayer in Samoan. Despite 30 minutes of practicing, I left discouraged and frustrated because I had not gotten very far. That night I asked the Lord to bless me with the gift of tongues if He wanted me to say the baptism prayer in Samoan.
When I practiced the next morning, I quickly found I was not only able to say the baptism prayer, but also recite it from memory. The day of the baptism came, and I was able to say the baptism prayer in Samoan nearly perfectly. I felt the Spirit work through me. I know the Lord can work miracles for us if we have the faith and allow Him to work through us.

An apostle of the Lord made me a promise. “The Lord God will not leave you alone, nor will he be in debt. This you can count on.”
Those were the comforting words of Elder Richard L. Evans of the Quorum of the Twelve as he spoke at funeral services for my young husband. The “compensation” he spoke of was beyond my comprehension, and the thought remained in my memory for years. I could not see the end from the beginning.
That we are not alone, however, and that a loving Father in Heaven hears our prayers was more tangible. Our five children, ages four through sixteen, understood this. Their father, whose career had been in broadcasting, had often taught that their voices and thoughts are audible to the Lord, that they could reach the Lord through prayer if their lives were tuned in to the right frequency. Little David, the youngest, prayed at his grandmother’s knee on that first lonely night, “Please bless my daddy, so he will be well when I get there.”
We were on a family vacation in Utah when my husband died of a sudden heart attack. Still numb from shock, I faced my first major decision. Our home was three thousand kilometers away in Washington, D.C. “What do we do now?” I wondered. “Do we move back to Utah among family and old friends, or do we stay is Washington where we had established our home?” My ninety-two-year-old grandfather, a wise patriarch of a large family, offered good counsel. “Go back home to Washington for the present,” he said. “It is not wise to uproot your family until you think it through for at least a year.”
It was not a difficult decision to make. Our home, with its familiar surroundings, was a haven, and there was a memory in every room. It would have been more difficult for us to start over somewhere else.
Also, the Church in the Washington D.C. area was strong and growing fast. Members from adults to grade-school children felt a strong sense of identity with the Church. The opportunity to identify oneself as a Latter-day Saint promoted awareness of doctrine and practices and, through commitment to covenants, helped build strong testimonies of the gospel.
There was a feeling of missionary excitement. Our neighborhood is filled with beautiful churches of various Christian denominations. In the months and years after we returned to our home, school friends who were members of those churches invited our children to speak to their youth groups about Mormonism, and the interest and questions of the young people and their religious leaders challenged our children to expand their knowledge and test their faith. Many close friendships and several conversions resulted.
Looking back, I see the wisdom of remaining among supportive neighborhood, school, and Church friends. The great loss we had suffered did not disrupt the stability of our lives.
There was little time for grief that first year. The awesome responsibilities of my new role as sole parent were overwhelming. Ralph had been very much in charge, and I relied heavily on his judgment and leadership. Attempting to establish my authority was of prime importance. The children thought they were very funny when they made birthday and Mother’s Day cards depicting me in a general’s uniform. However, I knew my authority was finally recognized when I overheard one small child say to another, “What are Mother and Daddy going to do when they get together again, now that Mother’s the boss?”
But there was a special presence in our home. Father was considered to be out of reach but not out of touch. I realized this one day when teen-aged Alison said, “Mother, I can always get out of your range, but I can’t get out of Daddy’s.” This was a positive moment that reminded me of Elder Evans’ promise.
Our youngest child insists that he never felt fatherless. His departed father was always a real person to him, and he intuitively understood the eternal nature of the family unit long before he learned about the covenants and promises that can ensure its endurance. This awareness also translated into a desire on the part of our children to prove themselves so as not to disappoint the father they had come to idealize. As for me, I was determined to succeed in my stewardship. I could not fail my eternal partner or my Eternal Father. Our purpose bound us even closer together as a family as we shared our trials and successes.
Temple marriage was a subject of special interest. It was an anchor to which we could hold and a prize that all would one day attain. Our primary motivation was that we might all serve the Lord’s purposes so as to be reunited as a family once again.
A second major problem that had to be resolved soon after Ralph’s death was how to provide for my family. This is probably the most crucial and frightening reality that most newly-widowed mothers face. My options were whether to use our insufficient financial resources until they were gone, and then decide how to support the family, or to find employment in the near future and keep some funds in reserve. I chose the latter. Fortunately, it was possible for me to be away during the day because all the children were in school, and an older daughter was responsible until I arrived home. The children’s acceptance of this new situation and their faith in me was viewed as “God’s in his heaven and Mother will provide.”
I had limited qualifications, having married before completing college. But after a refresher course in business English and typing, I was ready to start at the bottom. I became a receptionist. It was a good beginning. Further training brought additional employment opportunities and added responsibilities. These experiences, along with subsequent years in the field of corporate communications at one of the government banking agencies, have broadened my interests, supplemented my education, developed my skills, strengthened my self-confidence, contributed to my financial independence, and provided for my future security. This is compensation I had never dreamed of.
When I first accepted employment, I came to a decision that accounts in great measure for any success I may have had as a single parent: giving prime time to the children. Prime time meant every evening, with few exceptions. Since I was away all day, I decided that I should be home at night. This was a marked change from former days when my husband’s position as a television network executive involved us both in a busy business and social schedule in and out of town. Time and again as I had appeared to be all attention during a conversation, I had been worrying about the children’s homework or how dinner was progressing at home.
As we had traveled, I had thought about where the children were. At length, after Ralph’s death, I concluded that the next year would be different. I was needed at home more in the evenings when the children were there.
All decisions that shaped our future were not mine alone. The children had choices to make, too. They learned to cook through trial and error and became quite adept at cleaning the house. With their mother at work during the day, they went places by themselves on foot, bicycle, or bus. “Ask not what your mother can do for you, but what you can do for your mother,” became the watchword in our home. All children worked at summer jobs as soon as they were old enough. We even caught the littlest one selling his carefully scrubbed rocks from door to door in the neighborhood. Self-sufficiency, they soon learned, was the way to live.
Although I found myself widowed at a relatively young age, I was blessed with a generous measure of faith and hopefulness. I tried to convey this feeling to my children. The entire family felt a strong sense of opportunity and of the Lord’s hand in our lives.
Friends and family members also contributed their suggestions and ideas for our welfare. There was valuable advice and assistance regarding summer jobs, schools, scholarships, and many other things. Friends were there in times of illness, trouble, and teenage crises. They included us in family activities, fathers and sons’ outings, and other events. Our bishops and priesthood leaders were always available for counsel. Being on the receiving end of so much kindness is often difficult, but it has taught me and my children that blessings from the Lord are not just dropped on our heads. They are brought to pass through the hearts and hands of others.
A woman in the role of single parent, whether widowed or divorced, has a very special calling, and she will be held accountable before the Lord for what she does with her stewardship. Although her spouse is absent, she stands nonetheless commissioned by the Lord to perform the charge he issued to all parents: “And they shall also teach their children to pray, and to walk uprightly before the Lord” (D&C 68:28; see also D&C 68:25–27 and D&C 68:29–32). She may feel at times that she carries a disproportionate share of that responsibility, yet she has the Lord’s assurance that he will prepare a way for her to accomplish her task. (See 1 Ne. 3:7.)
The principal lessons a parent must teach are those of spiritual values. Elder Boyd K. Packer of the Council of the Twelve has suggested that when children are interested or teachable we should immediately take advantage of that moment and teach them. (See Boyd K. Packer, Teach Ye Diligently, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1975, page 110.) When they are spiritually hungry, feed them. Without really knowing it, I followed this precept. We discussed gospel concepts freely while preparing the salad, walking to school, or sitting around the dinner table. It was not unusual for us to talk about the Atonement or the Second Coming any more than it was for us to talk about what was happening in the government or in the school classroom.
Through the years, I have proved the following scripture many times: “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths” (Prov. 3:5–6).
We view eternity through the small window of mortal time: “For now we see through a glass, darkly” (1 Cor. 13:12). The day will come when we shall each see our lives with clear vision and an eternal perspective. We shall then have a full knowledge of what we understand by faith now: That the Lord does not leave us alone when we seek him, that he is never in debt to us, and that he always compensates. By showing us our weaknesses and providing an opportunity to turn them to strengths, he exchanges our dross for gold.

My parents went on to serve faithfully in many ward and stake callings. They were in the Philippines for three years serving as mission leaders. They also served 18 months in a small branch in Darkhan, Mongolia, way up north, close to the Siberian border. My parents are tough people, but when the heat in their apartment would stop working and the temperature was 40 below zero, they were longing for the mild winters of Idaho. Whenever I would ask my mom how they were doing, she would always simply say, “Well, you don’t know how strong you are until you have to be strong!”

Another great example of the Lord’s power to refine us is in the story of Cory Ten Boom, written in the book The Hiding Place. Cory was living with her family in the Netherlands when the Nazis began their occupation in 1940. They witnessed the persecution of the Jews, and being faithful Christians, joined the Dutch Underground Resistance, which was believed to have saved as many as 30,000 Jews from Nazi persecution.

Eventually, Cory and her family were caught and ended up in a Nazi prison camp. As a result of the unspeakable atrocities they experienced there, Cory lost her father and sister.

When I was a teenager, reading this story for the first time, I was struck by this family’s courage and devotion to their faith. One of the things I most remember was in the preface, written by the authors who helped Corrie write her story. They asked her how she made sense of all the pain and atrocities she had experienced in her life. Remarkably, this was her response: “This is what the past is for! Every experience God gives us, every person He puts in our lives is the perfect preparation for a future that only He can see.” [2] Corrie Ten Boom knows what it means to be refined by the crucible of mortality.

A young father sat in his darkened apartment. It was 5 a.m. His three small children were sleeping at the neighbors. Everything in his life had been going so well; and then without any warning, everything changed. He had just come home from the hospital where he had spent all night watching his wife struggle to live. She had died an hour before of a massive brain hemorrhage.
In the next few days the Lord blessed the young father with tender mercies that helped him understand his wife's death and gave him the strength he needed to move forward to finish school and rear their children. It was a challenging, but spiritually powerful time that became the foundation of a strong family with children who knew and loved the Lord.

A few years ago I was in a Salt Lake hospital emergency room with my sons and a neighbor boy—the result of a backyard touch football game.
While we waited in the emergency room for the doctor to put one of the participants back together, we saw a young lady brought into the hospital. She may have been seventeen—tall, willowy, well dressed, and having a wild reaction to an overdose of drugs. As we watched, she collapsed, and I thought, There is no way this child can survive this experience. I wondered how she had come to this sad situation in her life. Had she not heard the words of the prophets? Had she heard them and laughed as if they were the warnings of men out of touch with the realities of a modern world? Had one of us been negligent in our opportunities to teach her? Had her parents known the truth but not been willing or able to help her understand?
While waiting in that hospital thinking, pondering, and praying for her, I recalled a principle the Lord teaches us in the 89th section of the Doctrine and Covenants. It is found in the fourth verse:
“Behold, verily, thus saith the Lord unto you: In consequence of evils and designs which do and will exist in the hearts of conspiring men in the last days, I have warned you, and forewarn you, by giving unto you this word of wisdom by revelation.”

“I can’t take another day of the rowdiness and disrespect of those young people on our tour!” The American woman introduced herself as she sat down across the table from me.
“I don’t know what has happened to this younger generation. They have absolutely no regard for the beautiful or the sacred. We have some teenagers in our group who sit in the back of the bus smoking, drinking, and disrupting our whole tour with their rowdiness.”
We arose and walked through the rose garden behind the hotel, viewing the Holy City across the Kidron Valley. She continued: “Only yesterday in Bethlehem the obscenity and vulgarism of their language was a desecration of those sacred shrines.”
As she spoke, I thought of the eight young people who made up nearly a fourth of our tour group.
“What do you do with all those teenagers you have with you?” she asked. “I noticed that you have quite a number of them with your group. How do you control them?”
I thought of the way Melvin Bushman and Bonnie May Hiatt had been so concerned about Mrs. Foster as we all ascended the narrow, age-polished stone steps to the “Upper Room,” which tradition identifies as the site of the Last Supper. And wasn’t it Carolyn Bushman and her cousin Virnell Bushman who had made sure that Mrs. Turley wouldn’t miss the view from the minaret? Diane Hess was the very essence of sunshine and cheerfulness, always a bright spot in our group. And Shelley Crane, quiet and somewhat shy, was always concerned for others before herself.
Then there were Jerome and John Horowitz. Jerome was a typical 17-year-old and as typically unpredictable. I was a little annoyed when he appeared so zealous to board the plane that day when we didn’t have seat assignments, but a few moments later I realized that he was trying to reserve seats for some of the older members of our group.
“What do you do about them when you are visiting these sacred sites?” she asked.
“We take them with us, or rather they take us, and we share in their enthusiasm. You see, we’re Mormons, and—”
“Oh yes, I’ve heard about your church and the marvelous programs you have for young people,” she interrupted. “You have some sort of youth activity program, don’t you?”
I explained that the quality of our young people is the result of more than just activities and programs; the gospel is a whole way of life. It is the influence of the gospel of Jesus Christ and his priesthood in the lives of Mormon young people that makes the difference. Because of their own feelings for their Savior, their own spiritual strength and testimonies, and in many cases, their own sacrifices, this journey to the Holy Land meant as much to the young people of our tour group as it did to the adults.
My conversation with this lady came back many times during the subsequent events of our tour, events that vindicated my defense of LDS youth.

When I was 14, I made a decision that changed everything. I was walking down the street with some friends on a Friday night, and we were having a good time, just as we usually did. But tonight there was a problem, and I knew I had to do something about it. I just wasn’t sure I could.
For the past couple of years, my friends had started experimenting with cigarettes and alcohol. It was slow at first, just a once or twice sort of thing, but by the time this Friday came, they regularly smoked and drank when we were out alone.
I thought that as long as I just kept myself clean, I could still have a good time with my friends. Of course, my parents could tell something wasn’t right with my friends. And my friends could tell that my parents didn’t approve of them. That left me in the uncomfortable middle: I found myself repeatedly defending my friends to my parents and defending my parents to my friends.
So there we were that Friday night, walking down the street. My friends started drinking and smoking, and I finally realized how uncomfortable I was with their behavior. So I made a choice.
I walked to the other side of the road.
My friends laughed at me. They called me a “goody-goody.” And they said that if I stayed over there, I wouldn’t be their friend anymore.
Well, we got to the end of the road. My friends turned left, and I turned right. I was two miles (3.2 km) from home, and they were the longest two miles I’d ever walked. You might think I would feel good about making such a courageous choice, but in that moment, I felt awful. I woke up the next morning with the terrifying realization that I had lost my friends and that I was now alone. For a 14-year-old, that was devastating.
Not too many days later, I got a phone call from a member of the Church I knew named Dave. He asked if I wanted to come to his house on Saturday night. He also invited me to join his family for dinner the next day. It sounded like a lot more fun than I was currently having with no friends, so I agreed.
Dave and I had a good time together—and, of course, there were no cigarettes or alcohol. As I listened to Dave’s dad say the prayer at dinner, I felt so good. I began to think that maybe—just maybe—things were getting better.
Dave and I became best friends. We played football together, went to school together, helped each other go on missions. When we got back, we were college roommates. We helped each other find the right women to marry and kept each other on the strait and narrow path all the way to the temple and after. All these years later, we’re still good friends. And it all started with a simple phone call, right when I needed it.
At least, that’s how I thought it had all started. Imagine my surprise when, years later, I found out that it was my mom, working behind the scenes, who had orchestrated our friendship! Soon after I lost my old friends, she noticed something was wrong with me, so she called Dave’s mom to see if they could figure out a way to help. Dave’s mom then coaxed Dave into contacting me and inviting me over. Sometimes promptings to help someone in need come from the Holy Ghost; sometimes they come from an angel—such as a mother—who “speak[s] by the power of the Holy Ghost” (2 Nephi 32:3).
I’ve often wondered how life might have been different—for me and for Dave—if my mom hadn’t perceived my struggle and taken action. Doesn’t that remind you of the way Heavenly Father blesses us? He knows about our every need, and He sends “blessings from above thru words and deeds of those who love” (“Each Life That Touches Ours for Good,” Hymns, no. 293).
Ultimately, we are all responsible for our own choices. As President Thomas S. Monson has said repeatedly, “The choices we make determine our destiny,”1 and many of those choices must be made personally, individually. Often our decisions make us feel isolated, even lonely. But our Heavenly Father did not send us here alone.
The decisions I made at key moments blessed and guided my entire life. But those decisions were inspired and empowered by my mother’s prayerful efforts and by Dave’s support and friendship.
The test that we call earth life is different from the tests we often take in school—where you have to keep your eyes on your own test and you aren’t allowed to help your neighbor. No, in this test, we can and must help each other; in fact, that’s part of the test. So while your choices may at times take you to the lonely side of the road, please know that all along that road are others who have made their own difficult decision to be on the Lord’s side. They will walk with you, and they need you to walk with them.

I was accepted at BYU Provo when I was already 27 years old. I had been out of school for several years. When my first semester ended and I got my grades, I was afraid to arrive home and show them to my wife. My grades were terrible. I started preparing a mental plan in my own defense. I thought to myself: I will show my wife my grades, she will not be pleased, then I will tell her that this school is too hard, that I am not prepared for college and that we'd better go back to Brazil. And as I walked home carrying my grades (just like a child goes back home to show mom his grades) I started rehearsing in my mind what I was going to say to my wife. When my wife saw my grades, first she agreed that they were really bad. Then I immediately started telling her my feelings of inadequacy, and my desire to interrupt school and go back home. Then she said, "Carlos, we have come all the way from Brazil over here for you to graduate from this university, and we're not going back home until you graduate. I don't care if you need to take a particular class 2 or 3 times, but we will not go back home until you have graduated!"

After hearing those words from my wife I thought, well, I have no way out. I'd better stay in school. So dear brothers and sisters, the fact that I am here this morning sharing my testimony with you is thanks to my dear wife who at a very crucial moment of decision, gave me the help and support I needed.

I am reminded of two young men who came in to see me some months ago. They had been recommended by their priesthood leaders. From the moment they stepped into the office, they began in a very sincere way questioning certain doctrines and teachings and procedures of the Church. Their attitude, however, was not antagonistic, as they were sincerely looking for answers.
I asked them finally if their questions perhaps represented the symptoms of their problem and not the cause. Wasn’t their real question whether or not this church is true? Whether or not it is actually the Church of Jesus Christ? And whether or not it is led by divine revelation? The young men agreed that perhaps if they were sure of the answers to these questions, they could take care of the other questions that seemed to arise in their hearts.
I asked them if they were willing to participate in an experiment. One of them appeared to be athletically inclined, and so I turned to him and asked, “If you wanted to learn about the chemical properties of water, would you go to the local sports stadium and run four laps around the track?”
He said, “Of course not.”
I asked, “Why not?”
He said, “The two are not related.”
We then turned to John, chapter seven, and read: “If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself.” (John 7:17.)
If we are going to experiment with the things of Christ, then we are going to have to put these things to a spiritual test—a test that the Savior himself has outlined for all those who wish to know, a test of doing.
I asked them if they read the scriptures.
They said, “No.”
I asked them if they prayed.
They said, “Not often.”
I asked them if they kept the Word of Wisdom.
They said, “Occasionally.”
I asked them if they went to church.
They said they’d stopped.
I asked them if they would be interested in a three-month experiment. They said they would try but were not anxious to commit themselves until they found out what I had in mind.
“During the next three months will you attend all your church meetings and listen carefully to what is being said, even taking notes of the principal points being made by the teachers and how these points might apply to your lives?”
They thought for a moment and said they would.
“During the next three months will you reinstitute in your personal life prayer, night and morning, thanking God for the blessings you enjoy and asking him to help you know if the Church is true and if the things you are doing are meaningful to your lives?”
One of these young men, who considered himself an agnostic, balked at this, but then he finally agreed to do it on the basis that for the sake of the experiment he would accept the premise that there is a God and would appeal to this God for the light and knowledge which he was seeking.
I asked them if in the next three months they would refrain from drinking, smoking, and drugs. Although this created some anxiety, they resolved to do it.
I asked them if in the next three months they would resolve to keep themselves morally clean and in harmony with the principles of virtue which the Savior taught. They said they would. And then I suggested they establish a schedule, on their own, during the next three months to read the Book of Mormon from cover to cover—a few pages each day, with a prayer at each reading that the Lord would bless them to know if the book is true and actually from him. They agreed.
Anticipating what might happen, I said, “Now, if you feel disposed to tell your friends about this, probably their first comment will be ‘Boy, has Brother Dunn snowed you.’ You may even feel that way a time or two during this experiment, but don’t let it keep you from doing what you have agreed to do. If you think that might be a problem, then keep it in the back of your mind, and go ahead and honestly experiment, and let this three-month experience speak for itself.” I added, “If things go properly, you’ll notice some by-products, such as a growing awareness and concern for your fellowman and greater appreciation and consideration for other people.” They accepted the challenge and left.
Of course, what was really hoped for was the experience that every member has a right to enjoy and everyone else has the right to receive, and that is the knowledge of a personal testimony. I think Brigham Young described it best when he said:
“There is no other experience known to mortal man that can be compared with the testimony or witness of the Holy Ghost. It is as powerful as a two-edged sword and burns in the breast of man like a consuming fire. It destroys fear and doubt, leaving in their stead absolute unqualified, and incontrovertible knowledge that a principle or thing is true. …
“This same testimony has sustained faithful saints to the present day and will be a lamp to their path forever. The effect of this testimony reaches above and beyond all physical or earthly things and makes relationship with God the Father a literal, pulsing fact. Every fiber of both body and spirit respond to the witness of that testimony and the soul knows and lives the truth.”
And so to those who have tasted the water at many wells only to find that the unquenching thirst of the soul drives them on in search of that which will bring peace and nourishment to the heart—to you, whoever you are, member or nonmember—will you come and drink from this well, and taste and experiment and see if you have not found the waters of life where you can drink to your soul and thirst no more but be full with the joy of the true knowledge of Jesus Christ and his teachings and the purpose of your own life?
And to this invitation I bear you my witness that I know God lives. I know he lives and that Jesus Christ is our Redeemer and his Son. Joseph Smith saw what he said he saw, and we have a prophet of God sitting with us, presiding today. I bear you that witness in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

When David and I served a mission in São Paulo, Brazil, my Portuguese was limited at best. My testimony sounded something like, “You nice, me happy, gospel true.”

We gave many stake conference talks, and I always had my same trusty, dog-eared Portuguese talk ready to read. Then one Sunday morning, while sitting on the stand at a stake conference and preparing to step to the podium and read that talk, I was suddenly aware of a strong spiritual prompting. It went something like this: “Leave your talk on your seat and speak from the heart.” Oh dear!

I became all trembly and twittery! My focus on the Lord sharpened considerably! I turned my hope, thoughts, and feelings over to Heavenly Father, pointedly pleading for help in the name of His Son. I wobbled to the podium, stared out at the audience, and opened my mouth. My verb endings were surely mangled, and no doubt my pronunciation hurt every ear. As I directly focused and concentrated on the Savior’s love and mercy, I was able to share it. The Spirit used those broken Portuguese sentences to convey truth. Many hugs and tears came from members after the meeting.

The Lord will take our earnest, though ­meager, offering—be it two small fish and a few small barley loaves13 or weak Portuguese or a sincere though awkward attempt to mend a ­relationship—and turn it into a nourishing meal if we come with faith and focus to Him for help.

When I moved away from home and started my life as an adult, I needed to find a lot of answers. I particularly struggled to know how to understand my relationship with the priesthood as a woman. I heard contradictory statements from friends, ward members, and online sources. I felt confused and unsatisfied by the answers that others gave me to explain the role of women in the Church.

The question kept coming back to me: I know that God loves me equally, but how can I feel equal to men when I have a different role? I couldn’t help but feel like having a different role meant having a lesser role. Dwelling on these questions felt like starting up the mountain at 1:00 a.m. I couldn’t see the answer yet, and searching felt dark, cold, and discouraging.

In the October 2019 general conference, President Russell M. Nelson issued an invitation, specifically directed to the women of the Church: “I entreat you to study prayerfully all the truths you can find about priesthood power.” He encouraged us to understand how we could have the same access to priesthood power as a man could. Here was a prophetic invitation to ask my questions and then devote time to studying them. President Nelson promised that as we did so prayerfully, our ability to draw upon priesthood power in our lives would increase.

Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has said: “Asking questions isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s a precursor of growth. God commands us to seek answers to our questions and asks only that we seek ‘with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ’ [Moroni 10:4].”

Understanding that I could have faith and have questions was key for me as I began to search for an answer. It helped me remember what I did know: God loves me; He speaks through His prophets; He wants me to feel joy. By starting my search based on this foundation, I was able to turn to good sources that I had already gained a testimony of. Specifically, there were talks by President Nelson, President Dallin H. Oaks, and other General Authorities that all taught the same truths and helped me understand how God feels about me.

The sections in the Doctrine and Covenants mentioned by President Nelson (sections 84 and 107) gave me another starting point. I could lean on the testimony I had already gained of the scriptures to support my fledgling understanding of truths about the role and value of women in God’s plan. I felt grateful for trusted family members, friends, and ward leaders who offered their thoughts and let me bounce ideas off them. It helped me the most when they would point me to other helpful resources that I could read for myself instead of giving me their opinions.

I spent many hours reading and praying. Prayer helped me keep my eyes on Heavenly Father; I felt His love for me through the process of asking Him questions. Through my studies, here are just a few of the truths I learned:
I have direct access to the power of God as I keep my covenants.
I am given authority from God to act in my calling when I am set apart by someone with the proper priesthood authority.
I received a gift of God’s priesthood power when I was endowed in the temple and a knowledge of how to draw upon that power.
I can experience exaltation and return to live with God someday if I keep His commandments (see Doctrine and Covenants 25:15).

I received peace and clarity as I searched for answers to my question. While I can communicate some of the truths I learned and my process for coming to an answer, the full answer was impressed upon my soul in a way that is difficult to explain. I refer to the experience of learning these truths as a sacred struggle. As I dedicated time to pray about my questions and wrestle with them, I created space for God to teach me.

What started as an area of confusion and darkness led to specific, quiet experiences with God as the Spirit distilled knowledge or increased my patience. I have faith as I approach other questions that I can work with my Heavenly Father to feel more peace and confidence in His plan. Now I try to support those around me in their sacred struggles so that they can come to know eternal truths by the spirit of revelation.

I would like to say how much it is appreciated in my home when each of us takes our turn to read the New Era. When I first realized I was going to leave Primary soon and go into Young Women, it scared me a little. But then my parents subscribed to the Friend, New Era, and Ensign, and I couldn’t (and still can’t) wait to go to Young Women. When I first read the New Era, I knew Young Women was not something I should be scared of but something I should look forward to.DJ Crisanto, Fairgrounds Ward, Keizer Oregon Stake

In a stake conference a number of speakers mentioned a certain man. After the session the General Authority met the man. He learned from others that more than fifty people had joined the Church because of him. The way he kept his yard, his home, his happiness, his good deeds to his neighbors all brought him opportunities to tell others how the gospel had blessed his life.
These two men had just committed themselves to do what everyone can do.
I know, after many interviews, that many long to become part of the assembly of the blessed. Many times they cry out in the night for help, not knowing where to turn, how to begin. Their eternal spirits seek help. As social beings we need each other. The commitment to reach out to them is a binding invitation from the Savior. When this is done in love, we may help redeem them. It is infinitely more than just confessing Jesus Christ—it is doing what needs to be done.
Church leaders and home teachers have special opportunities to help. The object of all their work, meetings, faith, and prayers will be to help each individual and family.
A sister in France who joined the Church was approached by her former minister who asked her how she could possibly have done such a thing. Her response was beautiful and reassuring. It shows us how important our collective commitment is to serve others. She said that at least once every month leaders or members of the Church would visit her. They looked after her spiritual and temporal needs. She told her former minister that since she had been baptized as a baby, the only time she had been visited by anyone from her former church was this day, and that visit was only to inquire about her membership.
A total commitment to anxiously serve the Lord and others is the surest way to overcome the many temptations of the adversary.
Everyone who truly commits himself to the gospel finds his life expanding and his appreciation growing for all good things. His acknowledgment of God and his wondrous creations intensifies. The Lord described how this process works in a revelation given to the Prophet Joseph Smith in May 1831:
“That which is of God is light; and he that receiveth light, and continueth in God, receiveth more light; and that light groweth brighter and brighter until the perfect day” (D&C 50:24).
Brothers and sisters, a committed person makes goodness look attractive. He builds an inner confidence as he learns light and truth and then practices it. He becomes more like our prophet today, Spencer W. Kimball, who over a lifetime has translated desire into firm commitment to do everything he can do to demonstrate his love for the Lord and all of His children.
We, too, can resolve this day to declare ourselves, give ourselves, devote ourselves; to commit ourselves to do what everyone can do. In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, amen.

Every summer I get to go all by myself for one week to visit my grandma and grandpa. One day when I was there, Grandma, a friend of hers, and I went to the store. Grandma ordered coffee for herself and her friend (they are not members of the Church) and hot chocolate for me. When the lady put the first cup on the counter, Grandma told me it was the hot chocolate and to take it. I took it and went outside to a table. Something kept telling me, “Don’t drink it, don’t drink it.” I thought, Why? I’m thirsty! So I opened the lid and saw that it was coffee. I knew it was the Holy Ghost warning me. I’m so glad I was baptized and have the gift of the Holy Ghost to help me!

Many years ago, a friend of mine told of an experience he had one evening as he was flying home from New York City to Salt Lake. He had been in New York seeking to find funding for a company he was trying to start.
About a half hour after takeoff, sitting in an aisle seat, my friend noticed President Boyd K. Packer walking down the aisle from the front of the plane where he had been seated. My friend said he later learned that President Packer often walked through the plane after the seat belt sign had been turned off, and if there were members of the Church on the plane he usually found them.
They made eye contact and then for the next ninety minutes, my friend was tutored by this Especial Witness of the Lord, Jesus Christ. Among the things Elder Packer told my friend were these two ideas:1. Never let any taint come upon your name, your company, or your money.2. Memorize Section 59 and use it as your guide as your make critical decisions in your career.
This counsel, given more than thirty years ago, was very influential to my friend, who is actually Elder Monte J. Brough, who served for nearly twenty years as a member of the Quorum of the Seventy. This experience happened many years before he was general authority, when he was like you: young, ambitious, and trying to get started in the world.