Gospel Story Finder

Illustrations by Dilleen Marsh
One rainy night in late November 1973, my companion and I were tracting in Manila, the Philippines, and we knocked on the door of Romeo and Naty Bautista. They let us in and listened politely to our short message. Naty didn’t speak English (and we only taught in English at that time), but Romeo did and was interested in having us come back. He also said that his younger sister, Avelia, who was living with them while going to college in Manila, would probably be interested.
As excited as young missionaries can be about new investigators, we eagerly waited for the return appointment several days later. The lesson went so well that we could hardly believe it. Romeo and Avelia listened attentively and asked questions. Naty listened but didn’t understand much of what we said. They were all receptive from the very beginning—a missionary’s dream!
After we left each lesson, Romeo would teach the lesson to his wife in Tagalog. They read the Book of Mormon in English together, slowly. They had two young daughters at the time: Ruth, a toddler, and Namie, a new baby.
In December 1973, I was fortunate to baptize and confirm Romeo and his sister Avelia. My companion and I were thrilled at the family’s faith and interest in the gospel, but we never could have predicted the eternal impact of their decision and the countless lives that would be blessed both immediately and years down the road.
Romeo and Avelia became faithful and strong members of the Makati Branch from the start. Soon after their baptisms, I returned home to Salt Lake City, Utah. In my excitement to come home, I didn’t even get Romeo’s mailing address to write a letter. There was no internet or cell phones in those days.
I soon met Susan, my eternal sweetheart. I taught, baptized, and married her in 1975, and we were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple in 1976. We had three children and became involved in various Church callings. I was also very involved in our family business. I often thought about the Bautista family and how they were doing, but I didn’t know of any way to contact them.
Then one special day in 1997, I received a letter from a Mrs. Avelia Wijtenberg, postmarked from Mackay, Queensland, Australia! I didn’t know any such person there, but when I read the letter, I learned that Romeo’s sister Avelia had met and married a Dutch-Australian man and had been living in Queensland for some years. She had found my old mailing address in her notebook one day while doing some spring cleaning.
Avelia and I began a letter-writing campaign, eager to know about what had happened to each other over the past several decades. She was also able to give me a mailing address for Romeo, who had moved to Tiwi, in the southern part of Luzon Island in the Philippines.
That year, as Romeo and I wrote back and forth, after 24 years of no contact, our old relationship was rekindled. Romeo said that he and Naty now had five children. Naty and the rest of the family had been baptized in the years after I returned home. Their eldest, Ruth, had served a mission in the Philippines Davao Mission, and the second and third daughters, Namie and Joan, were serving missions in northern Luzon and Guam, respectively. They had a fourth daughter, Lyn, who later served in the Philippines Baguio Mission, and finally, a son, John, who later served in the Philippines Cagayan de Oro Mission.
My wife and I requested the addresses of Namie and Joan and wrote to them on their missions. We had never met them and didn’t know them at all but felt such an instant bond that is difficult to describe in words. It was almost as though they were our own daughters! Through our letters, we rekindled a love for the Bautista family and especially for Namie and Joan—who were full of the Spirit, working hard as full-time missionaries. In a letter, Namie asked if she could telephone us on Christmas Day, as her parents didn’t have a telephone at the time. With the approval of her mission president, she called on Christmas Day in 1997, and we both just cried for several minutes. I then reminded her that an international long-distance collect call was too expensive to waste just crying to each other. We laughed and had a wonderful conversation, even with her limited English skills. She invited us to come to the Philippines the following summer for her homecoming talk.
In the summer of 1998, as Namie returned home from her mission, I made plans with my 16-year-old daughter to go to the Philippines. We arrived in Manila and met with Ruth. We attended the Manila Philippines Temple together. Then we flew south to her family’s home in Tiwi. It’s impossible to describe the joy of seeing Romeo and his family again. The deep bond of brotherhood was instantly renewed. We talked and hugged and reminisced; we ate together and read scriptures with his family each night we were there. They were such strong rocks of testimony in their small branch. We attended sacrament meeting in the Tiwi Branch and listened to Namie report on her mission. It was amazing. It was nearly celestial. Truly this was missionary heaven.
At that time, Romeo was serving as the branch president of the Tiwi Branch. He had been instrumental in bringing the gospel to his extended family in northern Luzon. Romeo took his family to the temple, where Naty and their children were sealed. Now all five of the children have been married and sealed in the Manila Temple. Several married returned missionaries. Joan was instrumental in converting her boyfriend. She waited with him for a year after his baptism and then married him in the Manila Temple. Naty died suddenly in 2007, but the family remained strongly rooted in the gospel. They are thankful for the sealing covenant and know they will see their beautiful wife and mother again if they are faithful.
Now there are more than 70 members of the Bautista family who are active in the Church. The family and extended family have accounted for 17 full-time missions and 14 temple marriages. Family members have also served as bishops and branch presidents; stake and district presidents; and Relief Society, Young Women, and Primary presidents and counselors! Romeo’s son, John, was a bishop in the Quezon City area. Ruth’s husband was a high councilor in that same stake. Lyn’s husband was also a branch president in Tiwi. The Bautista family surely is building a strong legacy of service and strength in the Philippines.
My wife and I served a senior mission in the Philippines San Pablo Mission from 2008 to 2010. One day at the temple in Manila, most of the Bautista family gathered for the marriage of John Bautista (Romeo’s son) to Sister Victorino, one of the sister missionaries from our San Pablo Mission who had completed her mission and recently returned home.
Our mission president asked if we would like to attend that joyous event, and we immediately made plans to be there. My wife knew of my relationship with the Bautista family but was completely blown away by how many family members there were and how much they loved her. She had 70 new friends for life.
I often think of Doctrine and Covenants 18:15: “And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!” Like a ripple in a pond, the influence of one soul, Romeo, has sent out waves of strong testimonies and Church service in the Philippines.
I was fortunate to help toss the pebble into the pond four decades ago with the baptisms of Romeo and Avelia. I have experienced unspeakable joy in my relationship with this great family, now into their third generation of gospel living. This is truly the ongoing legacy and joy of missionary work. This is a little bit of missionary heaven!

A couple in England was invited to attend a special seminar for those who had never been to the temple. “Each week we heard testimonies of many people who had been blessed by keeping the commandments of the Lord, of people who had had to change their lives to go to the temple. That really helped us. And we were given a different project each week concerning the gospel that we were to include in our activities and to achieve during that week.” When the seminar ended they felt prepared to go to the temple and had the necessary interviews. “On November 9, 1973, we were able to receive our endowments and were sealed with our children, Jon and Jamey, for time and eternity. That was truly the most glorious day of our lives.”

There are moments in our lives that can shape our core selves. We usually don’t perceive at the time that these experiences will prove pivotal. We tend to regard them as fairly routine or mundane. It is only in the process of time that we come to sense something of their importance for us personally. Nor do these events have to involve spectacular happenings - some very “small and simple things” can imprint themselves on our minds and hearts and influence the pattern of our lives. I had one such experience as a six-year-old child.
The year was 1979, the location - Dublin, Ireland. The event was the building of the Finglas Chapel (now Dublin Ireland Stake centre). In those days members were expected to help with the manual labour of constructing a chapel. My Mother, brothers and I, went along to help. I was six. Nowadays young children would not be permitted on building sites and, obviously, there were limits to what we could do. So, we carried bricks from one portion of the site to another so that they could be used to construct the building and the carpark.
I don’t recall all that happened, but I do recall carrying what seemed like very heavy bricks. No doubt I was slow. I am sure that sometimes I wanted to play more than I wanted to work. I am confident that I contributed little to that great endeavour. But I look back upon that work with happiness. It helped to bring me to God and His Church - represented not just by bricks and mortar - but more crucially by God’s covenant cause.

In Dennis’s ward the young men study Preach My Gospel each week. They have become like a team, working closely with the full-time missionaries and bringing friends to Sunday meetings and other activities, including basketball and football games during the week. The priests have baptized friends and others they helped teach with the missionaries. Over several years, this team of young men has strengthened the whole ward, and four of them, including Dennis, received calls to the Kenya Nairobi Mission.
They have followed the counsel of Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles to “become missionaries long before you submit your mission papers.”3 They did so by working together as a quorum, a team better than any other.

The large classroom in the hospital for crippled children is full of children and laughter and clowns with rainbow-colored wigs and giant smiles.
The children have already laughed and shouted through exploding balloons and fun games. Now it’s time for clown bowling. The clowns are the bowling pins. A nurse is invited to bowl. She successfully aims a large ball at the clowns. But it never makes contact because the clowns jump and twist out of the way.
Now a little girl tries. Sitting in her wheelchair, she pushes the ball at the clowns as hard as she can, but it dribbles weakly off her lap and barely reaches the human bowling pins. The little bowler sighs, underestimating clown magic. As the ball gently nudges the foremost clown he hurls backwards as if struck by a truck, knocking down a second clown who ricochets into a third. The whole clown pile explodes like a grenade and falls apart, vanquished. The children cheer. When clowns are present, children always win.
With this wild bunch of clowns, it’s one crazy thing after another. They’re the young men of Explorer Scout unit 207 of the Riverside Ward, Colville Washington Stake. If laughter is the best medicine, these young men are physicians. They can cure sadness with smiles and cure tears with giggles. Children they visit enjoy a period of time free of thinking about operations or hypodermic needles or pain.
When this day’s performance ends, the clowns move among the patients, making balloon animals and objects—dogs, cats, swords, giraffes, airplanes. They’ll try anything the children request, and even the failures are good fun. They also draw clown stars on the children’s faces.
All too soon the good times must end. The nurses who have laughed and cheered right along with their patients begin taking them away for medical treatment. The children devise delaying tactics, stretching out the farewell moment as long as they can. One little girl hugs a clown tight, then looks into his eyes. “I love you, clown,” she says. Finally, all the good-byes are said. The children go back to their rooms, feeling as if they have been touched by some special magic.
The clowns are still full of the spirit of what they’ve been doing. So they keep their costumes and their funny faces on as they leave the hospital, pack into two cars, and drive off for a hamburger. Motorists along the way, especially little ones, gape in wonder as they see the two cars full of smiling and waving clowns.
While they eat at a hamburger restaurant, the clowns share experiences from their hospital performance. They have made many such visits.
Clown Unit 207 began when the ward youth planned a visit to the hospital. The Explorer Scouts decided to present a clown act as their part on the program. Their adviser, Ron Buchanan, asked the help of his next-door neighbor Howard Pressy, who just happened to be a professional clown. With Howard’s help the scouts prepared an act and presented it at the hospital. Brother Buchanan (also known as “Classy Clown”) recalls, “It gave us all a new perspective. Those young patients weren’t worried about social activities. They were worried about whether they were ever going to be able to walk! You can’t be the same after that experience. You come out of there changed.
“We talked afterward about the words of King Benjamin, ‘When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God’. (Mosiah 2:17.) We decided that we were going to keep right on clowning. We would serve through laughter.”
There followed a period of training in which they worked hard to learn their art. They spent hours designing their faces and costumes and learning how to put them on perfectly. They practiced comedies and learned to twist long, thin balloons into animal shapes. Then they used their talents to bless the lives of children in hospitals, orphanages, and through other worthwhile causes. Each of the young men developed some special talent. “Painter” (Donald Anderson) could fall and stop himself only centimeters from the ground. “Jasper” (Karl Watts) became spokesman for the group. “Giggles” (Aaron Griffith) developed a great Charlie Chaplin walk.
Meanwhile, Howard (also known as “Bungles”) helped them understand what it meant to be a clown. He emphasized right from the start that being a clown is very serious business.
“Anybody can paint his face and put on a silly looking costume, but that does not make you a clown. When a real clown puts on his makeup and his costume, he also assumes certain character traits which he has a moral obligation to uphold. A good professional clown doesn’t smoke, drink, or use profanity at all in costume. It just isn’t done. He doesn’t pay any attention to whether a child is black, green, yellow, or purple. He treats them all the same.
“He doesn’t ruin the impression, no matter what happens. If a child walks up and kicks you, you still love that kid—because you’re a clown.”
As the fame of the clowns spread, the younger boys in the ward began looking forward to their sixteenth birthdays when they would enter the Explorer phase of Scouting. By the time Tony Romish and Bryan McGinty came of age, they already had names waiting for them. Tony became “Digger,” and Bryan was “Doctor Funnybones.” They practiced hard and soon were full-fledged clowns.
Not content with merely being very good, the boys gets together every Wednesday to practice their routines and become even better. There is a camaraderie here, a warmth and love, but there is also a serious sense of taking care of business. The young men have often prayed that they can make a difference in the lives of those they clown for. Now they are working hard to become part of the answer to their own prayers.
Howard and Ron have always emphasized to the members of the unit that when they put on their clown outfits and makeup, they are themselves no longer. They can no longer allow their own personal fears and inhibitions to keep them from doing their duty as clowns. “When you’re in costume you have no identity of your own. You’re not yourself; you’re a clown. And you owe it to the people to make them happy.”
The Explorers soon realized that they could do things as clowns, good things, that it was hard to do as themselves.
“When I perform as a clown,” Don says, “I’m no longer Donald Anderson. I’m ‘Painter’. I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I like people more because of ‘Painter’s’ influence. I’m definitely going on a mission. I used to wonder about that, but I see that ‘Painter’ helps people a lot, and I want to be able to do that as Donald Anderson too.”
All of Painter’s wonderful qualities are, of course, really Don’s own. They have merely been waiting inside for a good excuse to come out and shine.
In addition to personal growth, the clowns have been rewarded for their hard work with wonderful memories. “The first time we visited the hospital, we were all scared to death. We weren’t sure how we were going to work with crippled children. But they really responded, and it was a wonderful experience. When we finished we asked the nurse if there were any children who hadn’t been able to come.
“She took us to the room of a boy who had literally had his face ripped off in a car wreck. It looked like his face had been run through a meat grinder. He was so self-conscious that he wouldn’t come out of his room.
“So we were very careful. We walked in and said ‘Hi, we missed you. We wanted to give you a special balloon.’ At first he was really timid. But then he started to respond. And I was so proud of the clowns. They didn’t look away from him. They looked right at him and let him know that they cared about him.
“By the time they were finished, that boy was talking. He was friendly. He knew that he was somebody important, and that there were three or four clowns in that room who cared about him. He told us about his upcoming surgery, and we all wished him the best. It was one of the most giving experiences of our lives.”
Once at a baseball game for handicapped and retarded youth, the clowns adopted a team that was losing by an impossible margin. The team members had given up—until they found themselves with a real clown cheerleading squad. “We’d find out the name of the boy up to bat and then we’d start calling, ‘Come on, Charlie, you can do it. Come on, Fred!’ In that one part of the game they more than doubled their score. They still lost, because it was the last part of the game, but when they left they were so excited that someone had cheered for them.”
Sometimes it can take so little to make a difference, but to a clown that little is not optional—it is a duty. For example, at one hospital there were two Spanish-speaking boys in the audience. They were feeling a little neglected because they couldn’t understand the English jokes. The clowns combined their meager knowledge of Spanish and started some bilingual clowning. The result? “Those boys seemed to come to life.”
Working with those less fortunate than themselves has given the clowns a sensitivity and love for all of God’s children. Tony Romish reports, “As a clown, you want to help other people who are different from you. You feel a unity with everyone. We all seem to divide ourselves into different groups—the able-bodied and the handicapped, black and white, young and old, rich and poor. As clowns we feel close to everybody. We feel less separate. At school people often tease those who are mentally or physically handicapped. Before, I’d just walk on past, but now I can’t. I have to stop and defend whoever is being hurt.”
One of the secrets of the clowns’ success is Brother Buchanan. He loves these young men with all his heart. He sacrifices most of his Saturdays and many week nights for them, and considers it no sacrifice. “They’re very very special to me,” he says. “They’re wonderful young men. They give of themselves continually. And they have fun doing it. They’re my second family.”
Clowning is a uniquely unselfish form of entertainment and service. The clown receives applause, but the people applauding him don’t know who he is. They know his clown name, but they will never know his real name. There is no personal fame—only the wonderful feeling of making people happy.
But the love these clowns feel for the children they serve is far sweeter than any fame. Several of them have gotten up when they have been sick in bed to perform rather than miss that good feeling.
Clowning is hard work. But it may also be the most enjoyable form of service ever invented. “I mentioned to one of the boys that it was fun doing service projects. He said, ‘This is service, isn’t it? I’m having so much fun that I never stop to think about it.’”
Fun and service. Service and fun. And brotherhood and love and the sweet, healing joy of pure laughter. The Explorer Scouts of unit 207 specialize in lifting hearts, and you can’t lift hearts without lifting yourself.

One time in Minnesota, where I served as mission president, we had a missionary fireside where at the end I used the words “I know” as I bore my testimony. An investigator came up to speak with me after the meeting was over. He said, “Unless I can touch, smell, hear, see, or taste, I do not believe.” He, of course, had listed the five physical senses, which are an integral part of our mortal and temporal beings. I asked him if he believed in radio signals or gravity or even Hong Kong.

There are many physical elements that exist but we cannot detect them without some additional processes being involved. My cell phone, radio, and other devices convince me that these extra sensory concepts also exist. I cannot see them, I cannot taste them, I cannot feel, hear, or smell them, but I know that they are there.

Let us first examine the sense of hearing. For example, I picked up the phone one day to hear a voice say, “Would you hold the phone a moment? President Kimball would like to speak to you.” After extending a call to serve as a mission president, he asked that I keep the call confidential until it appeared in the Church News. I anxiously waited for the news. Three or four weeks passed without any confirmation of the telephone conversation. I honestly began to wonder if I had actually heard the prophet’s voice. Without some verification, I learned, I did not completely trust my hearing.

What about seeing? Just observe a basketball game and see how the referee and the players see so very differently. It continues to amaze me how two people can observe an event and yet see it in a very different fashion. How many times have I thought I saw something only to have others see it differently. You can’t trust your sight.

I have come to believe that our physical senses, while very powerful, are very inadequate and really not trustworthy. The Lord confirmed this idea of unreliable senses when He explained why He used parables:
“Therefore speak I to them in parables: because they seeing see not; and hearing they hear not, neither do they understand.
“And in them is fulfilled the prophecy of Esaias, which saith, By hearing ye shall hear, and shall not understand; and seeing ye shall see, and shall not perceive” (Matthew 13:13–14).

By now it should be clear that the accumulation of information from our five physical senses is very unlikely, by themselves, to produce the ability to say “I know!” But there are what I will call “spiritual” senses. These are senses that we can take with us when we leave this mortal existence. The development and use of the several categories of spiritual sense are also called “principles of intelligence” (see D&C 130:18–19).

In explaining His use of parables, Jesus identifies two spiritual senses: understanding and perception. Perception is part of understanding, but reinforces the nature of the sense of understanding. We can see but see not, hear but hear not because of the absence of understanding and perception.

The words perception and discernment are very similar. Discernment is the ability to comprehend that which might be hidden or obscure. It is a spiritual sense that is a very important element in the whole concept of agency. The development of our spiritual senses is an important part of our ability to function as a human being.

I first became aware of this sense when I was on my first mission some 43 years ago. I recall being interviewed by my mission president. I had the distinct impression that he could look right into my soul. Seventeen years later, while I was serving as a mission president, I came to know that he could. I often had the experience of knowing more about a missionary than he or she ever thought I did.

Another spiritual sense closely related to understanding is that of wisdom. Wisdom is the accumulation of understanding, learning, and experience that occurs over a lifetime. We can pray for understanding and wisdom, and the prayer would please the Lord (see 1 Kings 3:9–12).

Emotion is also a spiritual sense. Emotion in all of its expressions is an important and pervasive part of our spiritual being.

One of my outstanding missionaries once suggested that he didn’t think he had a testimony, because he never cried or felt tears as others did while expressing their testimony. He had great feelings but could never cry. I asked him what time he got up.

“6:00 a.m.,” he replied.

Did he study as outlined?

“Yes,” he explained.

Was he out the door doing his missionary work?

“Yes.”

I explained that I deeply believed in his testimony because of his actions. He was developing the qualities of understanding and experience by the manner in which he was conducting his life.

There are other spiritual manifestations, besides tears, that affect the mortal person, such as a “burning” heart.

The men on the road to Damascus “said one to another, Did not our heart burn within us, while he talked with us by the way, and while he opened to us the scriptures?” (Luke 24:32).

Oliver Cowdery was taught, “You must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right, and if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right” (D&C 9:8).

To feel that something is right brings peace—a confirmation from the Holy Ghost that something is true. So, we return to our basic question, “How do I know?”

Knowledge is gained in a multitude of ways. Apparently, the plan of mortality is such that some experience with a physical body is required. We learn from pain, sickness, time, and age. These lessons are only available through experience with the physical senses. After that, the Lord asks two questions: “Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?” (D&C 6:23).

The Christ confirmed the final spiritual gift as He declared: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid” (John 14:27).

No more certain knowledge can come to you than that bestowed by God through the witness of the Holy Ghost.

Finally, the peace that knowledge of the things of God brings begets love for Him and for His children.

I love my wife. How do I know that I love her? I just know. I love many people, but with a different type of love. I love God. I love His Son. I love His Church. I know that I love them. I have felt the burning in my bosom. I have heard the “still small voice,” and I have a collection of physical and spiritual senses that all point to a complete and comprehensive conclusion: I know what I know!

It is important for us to remember, however, that sometimes the Lord’s desires differ from ours. As his agents in the performance of priesthood duties, it is mandatory that we be receptive to his inspiration. A missionary I knew had a sobering experience giving a blessing. He was working on a renovation project at a branch chapel in New Zealand. The branch president, who was doing some repairs on the roof, lost his footing and fell to the pavement below. Immediately the missionary ran to his side and pronounced a powerful blessing, promising him life and complete restoration to health. A few minutes later, the branch president died.

Greatly disillusioned, the missionary went to his apartment and wrote three letters: one to his mission president, one to his bishop, and one to the president of the Church. The letters outlined his disenchantment with the priesthood and his intention to abandon his missionary service. Then he went to bed.

After worrying, struggling, and praying intermittently throughout the night, he gradually came to understand that the Lord’s will had been done—and that he needed to seek the inspiration and guidance of the Lord earnestly before undertaking any administration.

The young women around the world have taught me so much about seeking Christ and gaining a daily, personal witness of Him. Let me share the wisdom of two of them:

Livvy has watched general conference her entire life. In fact, in her home they traditionally watch all five sessions as a family. In the past, conference for Livvy had meant doodling or drifting into the occasional unintended nap. But this past October general conference was different. It became personal.

This time, Livvy decided to be an active recipient. She silenced notifications on her phone and took notes of impressions from the Spirit. She was amazed as she felt specific things God wanted her to hear and do. This decision made a difference in her life almost immediately.

Just days later her friends invited her to an inappropriate movie. She reflected, “I felt the words and spirit of conference return into my heart, and I heard myself declining their invitation.” She also had the courage to share her testimony of the Savior in her ward.

After these events she stated, “The amazing thing is, when I heard myself testify that Jesus is the Christ, I felt the Holy Ghost confirm it again for me.”

Livvy did not skip like a stone over the surface of conference weekend; she dove in, mind and spirit, and found the Savior there.

A few years ago, I created a video to go along with the Light the World Christmas campaign that received over 2.5 million views. I thought, “Should I put a scripture at the end? Or give people a challenge to be baptized? Is it my duty to dedicate my YouTube channel to missionary work?”
I really wrestled with that last question. I’m able to reach more people right now than the early missionaries and early pioneers could have even dreamed of! So I went to the temple with this question, ready and willing for whatever answer I would get.
And the answer that came was, “Do your ministering, and do your calling.”
I realized that Jesus Christ didn’t need me to baptize every one of my subscribers. He needed me to focus on serving the people around me.

Most weeks, I attend sacrament meeting in our ward and partake of the sacrament to renew my baptismal covenants and receive a remission of my sins. Often, I find it’s easy to let this sacred ordinance become a routine, something I go through without much thought. But every so often, the Lord blesses me with a powerful spiritual experience that stays with me.
One such experience happened during a ward conference in the Park Ridge First Ward of the Brisbane Australia Beenleigh Stake. At the time, I was serving as an assistant stake clerk, responsible for recording information for the stake history. I had come to the meeting with my notebook, ready to fulfil my assignment, but I left with a renewed sense of purpose and courage.
As the congregation sang hymn number 191, “Behold the Great Redeemer Die,” we came to these words:
“Father, from me remove this cup.
Yet, if thou wilt, I’ll drink it up.
I’ve done the work thou gavest me,
I’ve done the work thou gavest me;
Receive my spirit unto thee.”
Suddenly, these words pierced my heart.
My mind turned to the trials that my wife and I had faced over the years. Decades ago her health took a dramatic turn after a near-death experience, leading to long-term physical challenges that eventually confined her to a wheelchair. For the past decade, I’ve been her full-time carer, helping her navigate these challenges while also managing my own health issues. Together, we have borne many burdens, including the heartache of seeing some of our children and grandchildren step away from the gospel. At times, my “cup” felt more than full.
It hit me that we all have a work to do in this life. Each of us has been given our own cup to drink. Whether it’s as a father, mother, child, or in our work, school, callings, or family responsibilities, we all face challenges that can test our resolve. Sometimes, that cup feels almost impossible to take.
I thought about those who might be facing physical challenges, the loss of a job, struggles at school, addiction, or the heavy responsibility of caring for an aging, sick, or disabled family member. These trials, as hard as they are, are part of the work the Lord has given us. They are opportunities to prove our love for Him and for those around us.
At that moment, I asked myself a sobering question: “Am I ready to ‘drink it up’?”
The Savior’s example came to mind. In the Garden of Gethsemane, He too struggled under the weight of His own cup, pleading, “Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup.” And yet, in perfect submission, He added, “Not my will, but thine, be done” (Luke 22:42).
This realization gave me a renewed courage to press forward with faith. I thought about the day I hope to stand before the Lord and hear the words, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:21). To reach that day, I know I must continue to drink the cup the Lord has given me, even when it is bitter.
The Savior’s example has taught me that the trials we face are not meant to break us but to refine us. I’ve come to understand that the “cup” the Lord gives each of us is not only a test of our faith but also an invitation to rely on His Atonement more fully and to trust in His eternal perspective. Like Job in the Old Testament, I’ve drawn courage from the knowledge that God knows what I need to refine me, even when I don’t. And while my burdens have often felt heavy, I can say without hesitation that they are nothing compared to the suffering the Savior endured for us.
These experiences have deepened my love for my wife and strengthened my resolve to be a better example to my children. They have also taught me to see the sacrament with new eyes, as I ponder the Savior’s broken body and blood and remember how His perfect obedience made it possible for me to endure my own trials. I have cried many tears, especially in the solitude of night, but in those moments, I too surrendered and said, even through the pain: “Not my will, but Thine, be done.”
At 76 years of age, I have done my three score and ten. I don’t know how many more years I have, but I hope to be found faithful to the end. Whatever “cup” the Lord still has in store for me, I will drink it willingly, knowing that the Savior has already drunk the bitterest cup for us all. Because of Him, we don’t have to do it alone.

Brian R.
Twelve-year-old Brian R. of Arizona, USA, was preparing to pass the sacrament for the first time. He didn’t want to make a mistake, so he asked the other Aaronic Priesthood holders in his ward to explain things to him.
“They were great,” he says. “They told me where to stand, where to go, and how to pass the trays.”
But even more important, they reminded him to be reverent. “We need to remember the Savior as we pass the sacrament,” Brian says. “If we are reverent, it helps others to remember Him too.”
Brian learned that others are happy to help him to understand his duties and to learn to do them well. “Just ask,” he says. “Moving from Primary into Young Men is easier than you think.”

I am writing this letter to thank you for “You Sing—You Love” by Kent Rappleye in the December 1978 New Era. I started reading it in my father’s car while we were going to another city. It was so beautiful I could feel the love coming from it. It was so full of expression and of the Spirit that if I tried hard I could hear the choir singing. After reading the first column I had to stop three times because tears were filling my eyes. The spirit that held me was so great that I had to testify then and there: “Jesus is the Christ, and we are in his church.” When I finished that article, I couldn’t keep reading because I had to meditate and savor that special experience. At a time when I needed it most, the Spirit had once again testified to me that the gospel is true and that we are working to build the kingdom of God here. For the rest of the day I felt this way and just tried to pass it around.

One preparatory event happened when I was in an auto accident while visiting France. Moments after I was strongly prompted to fasten my seat belt, the car skidded and plummeted down a 20-foot (6-m) embankment. Because of the warning voice and because I regained use of my feet and legs while others with similar injuries are often left permanently paralyzed, I began to understand that a divine power much greater than I was in control.

I recall an evening when the family was all at home and we received a request from the missionaries for a visit, but I told them that we weren’t home. Then the elders informed me that they were in front of our home with the mission president. I hung up and immediately opened the door. They taught us about the blessings that await us, how we can face the difficulties in our lives, and that families can be eternal.

Brenna Pink, a Beehive from the Rockford Illinois Second Ward, Rockford Illinois Stake, is the latest participant in an activity that seems to be growing in popularity among LDS Young Women—completing all of the Young Women Personal Progress goals instead of just a selected few.
Why would anyone go so far out of her way?
“Completing Young Women goals makes you feel good,” she says. “I learned a lot about Heavenly Father and the scriptures.”
Brenna says that while some goals, like evaluating plays and dance concerts, were easy, the hard ones really helped her become a better person.
“For one of my goals in the category of Integrity, I didn’t listen to bad jokes or bad language. I tried to change the conversation to better topics and to keep myself out of bad situations.”

My heart leapt on 7 November 1981 as I received my mission call to serve in the Chile Concepción Mission. When I opened that letter, my world froze in place, and all I could think of was my mission.
I had almost everything ready. Again and again I reviewed the list of things I needed. I made a little mark on the list as I put each item in my suitcase. But even with my careful planning, I completely forgot one essential thing.
It wasn’t until two hours before I was to depart that I realized I needed some money to travel from my home in Quilpué to the Missionary Training Center in Santiago, Chile, which was about two hours away. I had already used all my savings and the funds my parents had given me.
My bishop wasn’t home when I ran to see if he could lend me the money. I didn’t need very much, but at that moment it seemed like a fortune.
I knelt down in my room in anguish and told my Heavenly Father what was happening, although I knew He already knew. When I got up from my knees, I was confident that He was going to help me solve my problem. I was a faithful tithe payer, and I knew the Lord would open the windows of heaven and pour out blessings upon me until there was no room to receive them (see Mal. 3:10).
My mother called to me and asked me to go through my closet and decide which things I wanted to leave there and which my sister could use. While I was sorting my clothes, I found a little purse so small it fit in the palm of my hand. I remembered that I had received it many years ago and that in it I had hidden my first savings.
I opened it and—what a blessing! Tucked neatly inside was some money I had put there many years earlier. It would be enough to pay for two fares to Santiago. I invited my father, who is not a member of the Church, to accompany me to the Missionary Training Center.
The years have passed, but I still remember this answer to my prayer. It has helped me remember how great are the power and mercy of our Father in Heaven.

Niles stared blankly at the book in his hands, trying hard to concentrate on the words on the page. But Anna was throwing a paper airplane across the classroom, Tyler was making seal noises, and Chris was bragging about how many free throws he could make. Who could pay attention to a book when everyone else was doing all that stuff?
Niles dropped the book on his desk in frustration. His teacher, Mrs. Bradshaw, was gone for the day. She had left a reading assignment with the substitute teacher, but everyone in the class was doing whatever they wanted. Niles glanced up at the substitute, who was running after the paper plane.
“Hey, Niles,” Sarah called from the back of the class. “I bet you can’t do this!” She leaned forward and lifted her feet above her head in a perfect handstand. Niles knew she was challenging him—he had the handstand record in his class.
As he started to get up to show off his own handstand, his elbow bumped the book he was supposed to be reading. He sighed and changed his mind. “Next recess, it’s on!” he called to Sarah, who was still upside down. He opened his book again and stuffed his fingers into his ears. He could still hear some of the commotion going on around him, but now he could actually concentrate on his book.
The next day Niles’s teacher was back. “Pop quiz!” she announced as she passed the papers down the rows. “Ten questions on what you read yesterday.”
The whole class groaned. Niles started to feel worried. He had tried to read the assignment yesterday, but even though he had concentrated his hardest, he had only gotten through about half of it. He answered the questions the best he could, but he knew he failed the quiz.
When the final bell rang, Niles’s teacher asked him to stay behind while the other kids left the classroom.
“The substitute teacher left me a note, and it mentions you by name,” Mrs. Bradshaw said. “Would you like to know what it says?”
Niles swallowed and nodded, trying to remember if he had done anything wrong the day before.
“‘Of the entire class,’” she read, “‘Niles was the only one who actually tried to read the assignment. He was an example to his classmates.’”
Niles was stunned. He didn’t know the substitute had noticed him. He thought she was too busy with the other kids.
“Niles, I am going to give you full credit for the quiz,” Mrs. Bradshaw said. “Thank you for being an example yesterday.”
Niles’s jaw dropped. He didn’t know you could get good grades for being an example! As he ran home, he thought about what his teacher said. Not only was he the class handstand champion, but by being an example, he was a pop quiz champion too!

When I was 16, my seemingly healthy, vigorous 41-year-old father dropped dead while water skiing. As you can imagine, this was a shocking event in my life and caused me much anguish. Why did this happen? This event was cause for considerable reflection and much prayer as I struggled to set my own course. A few months later, standing on the newly grown grass over his grave at the Ogden, Utah, cemetery, I decided several important matters:
One, that I would always keep the Word of Wisdom.
Two, that I would serve a mission.
Three, that I would always make him proud that I was his son.
Four, that I would strive to be successful as he was.
Five, that I would always be active in the Church.
Six, that I would marry someone in the temple as fine as my mother.
These were simple yet life-defining decisions. They were as indelible as the words carved on my father’s headstone, for my resolve was, in effect, carved in stone—unalterable and resolute. I had “decided to decide.”

To the west of our home was our garden plot. Part of the garden was in potatoes. One day my father said to my sister and me, “There are more potatoes than we can use. If you would like to sell some, you may do so.” My sister Alice and I dug some up and hauled them down to a hotel and sold them. When we showed the money to our father, he asked what we were going to do with it. We said we would divide it before buying some things we wanted. Then he questioned, “What about your tithing?” He said, “The Lord had been good to us. We planted and cultivated and harvested, but the earth is the Lord’s. He sent the moisture and the sunshine. One-tenth we always give back to the Lord for his part.” My father made no requirement; he merely explained it so convincingly that we felt it an honor and privilege to pay tithing.

“Grandpa plays the piano and violin and so do I. I really enjoy hearing him, especially when he plays his two favorite pieces. He once told me about playing the violin at his high school graduation program. His sister Helen, who played the piano for him, whispered, ‘Would you like to tune up?’ ‘No,’ he said and he played the entire number a half note off from the pitch of the piano. I guess it sounded pretty bad.”