Gospel Story Finder

I once read a book about a pioneer girl who traveled across the plains with a Mormon wagon train. All she could take with her were a few articles of clothing and her special box of small treasures. Her many dolls and toys she had to leave behind. Included in her special box were some material scraps, a packet of precious needles, several buttons, and two spools of thread.
The girl was very brave and very clever. She knew it didn’t matter that she had to leave her dolls behind, because she could always make some new, even better ones, if she had the materials. She and her family finally arrived safely in Utah. When the girl wasn’t helping her mother and father, she started making her own toys in her spare time.

One cold Saturday morning when I was 12, Dad told me to start the tractor so we could take hay to some hungry horses. It was so cold that the tractor turned over only a couple of times before the battery died. When I informed my father, he told me to saddle up Blue and tie our sleigh to the saddle so we could pull a couple bales of hay to the horses to tide them over until we could get the tractor started.
Blue, our thoroughbred studhorse, was in the prime of his life. He was a beautiful, powerful animal. I remember how he pranced around that morning looking for a good ride.
We put two 90-pound (41-kg) bales of hay on the sleigh, Dad mounted Blue, and we were off. I walked behind the sleigh to balance it. We soon arrived at the lane that led us to the winter pasture.
Things went well until we had gone about a third of the way down the lane. The snow had drifted deep, and I could see that it was piling up in front of the sleigh. As the cinch tightened around Blue’s chest, it cut off his ability to breathe. Suddenly he reacted.
Blue whirled around two or three times, trying to relieve the pressure on his chest. Dad quickly tried to dismount but was lashed to the side of the horse in the process. To make matters worse, Blue lost his footing on the ice under the snow, causing him to pitch over on his side, pinning my father beneath him.
As Dad was losing consciousness, he yelled at me to run and get help at Uncle Carl’s place. That meant I would have to crawl through two fences and run across a big pasture before reaching help.
As I turned to go, I heard a voice tell me, “Don’t go. Cut the rope!”
I quickly obeyed, pulling my Boy Scout knife out of my pocket. I cut at the lariat rope for a few moments when, suddenly, Blue lurched to his feet and took off. The rope snapped, and my father rolled out of its coils rather than possibly being dragged to his death. I ran to his side.
Dad came to, got up, and assured me he was all right. We then went to find Blue, cleared the snow from in front of the sleigh, retied the rope, and again headed for the horse pasture. We fed the horses and returned home.
I normally obeyed my father without question, and I was ready to run 10 minutes to my uncle’s place for help. But his help would have come too late. That day, however, the voice of the Spirit came just in time.

In Alvin F. Meredith’s final year of high school in Tennessee, USA, he was selected as his school’s athlete of the year by a group of Christian student athletes.
Shortly afterward, his coach notified him that the state leadership of the group had disqualified him because they didn’t recognize The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as a Christian faith.
His coach, “a really good Christian man,” asked the organization to send someone to the school to meet with the young athlete. The organization’s representative came to the high school and explained 10 points of doctrine that he felt justified their decision to disqualify the Latter-day Saint athlete. Upon seeing a Bible in the man’s bag, Elder Meredith asked if the two of them could review some verses.
“We looked at each of those 10 points and went to Chronicles and James and the book of Revelation and Corinthians,” Elder Meredith said. “My faith was challenged, and through the fire of that challenge, it was strengthened and has never wavered since.”

Priscilla Sampson-Davis was given a Book of Mormon while she was visiting Holland in 1963, but the Church was not organized in her homeland of Ghana until 1979. For sixteen years, she met regularly with other converts in Africa, awaiting baptism.
One of the sisters whom she visit-taught could not read. So, to give this sister the opportunity to drink deeply of gospel truths, Sister Sampson-Davis read the scriptures to her often and explained their meaning. She lived the counsel Paul gave to Timothy: “Be thou an example of the believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity” (1 Tim. 4:12).
Naaman’s nameless servant and Sister Sampson-Davis each took time to teach someone important lessons. They exemplify the counsel given us in Doctrine and Covenants 88:77–78: “And I give unto you a commandment that you shall teach one another the doctrine of the kingdom.
“Teach ye diligently and my grace shall attend you.” [D&C 88:77–78]

We have now been married for 22 years. It hasn’t always been easy. Annie and I have had the normal relationship bumps. There have been difficulties over the years. But because of our commitment to the relationship and a willingness to turn to the Lord for answers, we have grown together. As different situations and questions have arisen, we have been able to turn to the scriptures, the teachings of the prophets, and prayer to find solutions.
The average length of a first marriage that ends in divorce is nine years (in the USA).5 Because Annie and I built our marriage after the manner the Lord has shown us, we beat those odds. I’m glad we didn’t let fear of the world we were raised in stop us. There’s always more work to do, but we are both confident that our marriage will continue to improve through the years to come.

Before reaching Nauvoo, Kane described the area of Iowa through which he traveled by boat and horsedrawn carriage as being a sanctuary for “horse thieves, and other outlaws.” He said he grew tired of seeing “everywhere sordid, vagabond and idle settlers; and a country marred, without being improved, by their careless hands.”
I was descending the last hillside upon my journey, when a landscape in delightful contrast broke upon my view. Half encircled by a bend of the river, a beautiful city lay glittering in the fresh morning sun; its bright new dwellings, set in cool green gardens, ranging up around a stately dome-shaped hill, which was crowned by a noble marble edifice, whose tapering spire was radiant with white and gold. The city appeared to cover several miles; and beyond it, in the back ground, there [were well-tended fields]. The unmistakable marks of industry, enterprise and educated wealth, everywhere, made the scene one of singular and most striking beauty.
Kane obtained a small boat and rowed across the river to the city’s shore.
No one met me there. I looked, and saw no one. I could hear no one move; though the quiet everywhere was such that I heard the flies buzz, and the water ripples breaking against the shallow of the beach. I walked through the solitary streets. The town lay as in a dream, under some deadening spell of loneliness, from which I almost feared to wake it. For plainly it had not slept long. There was no grass growing up in the paved ways. Rains had not entirely washed away the prints of dusty footsteps.
Kane walked through workshops where materials of wood, leather, and iron were stacked ready for use, and equipment and tools lay where they had been left by the craftsmen. He then walked into well-cared-for gardens; examined fruits, vegetables and flowers; and helped himself to a drink from a well.
No one called out to me from any opened window, or any dog sprang forward to bark an alarm. I could have supposed the people hidden in the houses, but the doors were unfastened; and when I timidly entered them, I found [cold] ashes white upon the hearths, and had to tread tiptoe, … to avoid rousing irreverent echoes from the naked floors.
Bedroom of the Jonathan Browning house. Browning, a convert to the Church, invented one of the earliest automatic rifles.
On the outskirts of the city was the graveyard. But there was no record of the Plague there, nor did it in anywise differ much from other Protestant American cemeteries. Some of the mounds were not long sodded; some of the stones were newly set, their dates recent, …
Kane said that beyond the houses fields upon fields of grain lay rotting on the ground with no one to harvest it. As he walked around the suburbs at the southern edge of the city, he made two important discoveries.
Houses looking out upon the country showed, by their splintered woodwork and walls battered to the foundation, that they had lately been the mark of a destructive cannonade. And in and around the splendid Temple, which had been the chief object of my admiration, armed men were barracked, surrounded by their stacks of musketry and pieces of heavy ordnance. These [men] challenged me to render an account of myself, and why I had the temerity to cross the water without written permission from a leader of their band.
Though these men were generally more or less under the influence of ardent spirits [alcohol]; after I had explained myself as a passing stranger, they seemed anxious to gain my good opinion. They told me the story of the Dead City: that it had been a notable manufacturing and commercial [center], with 20,000 population; that they had waged war with its inhabitants for several years, and had been finally successful only a few days before my visit, in an action fought in front of the ruined suburb; after which, they had driven them forth at the point of the sword. The defence, they said, had been obstinate, but gave way on the third day’s bombardment. They boasted greatly of their prowess, especially in this Battle, as they called it; but I discovered they [could not agree on the details]; one of which, as I remember, was that they had slain a father and his son, a boy of fifteen, not long residents of the fated city, whom they admitted to have borne a character without reproach.
Kane was then shown around the “massive sculptured walls of the curious Temple,” which the invaders had vandalized. He was shown various features of the building including the baptismal font, “a large and deep chiselled marble vase or basin, supported upon twelve (life-size) oxen, also of marble.”
They permitted me also to ascend into the steeple, to see where it had been lightning-struck on the Sabbath before; and to look out, East and South, on wasted farms like those I had seen near the City, extending till they were lost in the distance. Here, … close to the scar of the Divine wrath left by the thunderbolt, were fragments of food, cruses of liquor and broken drinking vessels, …
It was after nightfall, when I was ready to cross the river on my return. The wind had freshened since the sunset; and the water beating roughly into my little boat, I headed higher up the stream than the point I had left in the morning, and landed where a faint glimmering light invited me to steer.
Here, … sheltered only by the darkness, without roof between them and the sky, I came upon a crowd of several hundred human creatures, whom my movements roused from an uneasy slumber on the ground.
The “faint glimmering light” that had guided him came from a candle that provided poor illumination for a woman tending a man dying of fever. Two little girls, sobbing, sat in the darkness nearby. Kane was to discover that this was a typical scene.
Dreadful, indeed, was the suffering of these forsaken beings. Cowed and cramped by cold and sunburn, alternating as each weary day and night dragged on, they were, most of them, the crippled victims of disease. They were there because they had no homes, nor hospital nor poor-house nor friends to offer them any. They could not satisfy the feeble cravings of their sick; they had not bread to quiet … hunger cries of their children. Mothers and babes, daughters and grandparents, all of them alike, were [camped] in tatters, wanting even covering to comfort those whom the sick shiver of fever was searching to the marrow.
These were Mormons, famishing, in Lee county, Iowa, in the fourth week of the month of September, in the year of our Lord 1846. The city—it was Nauvoo, Illinois. The Mormons were the owners of that city, and the smiling country round. And those who had stopped their ploughs, who had silenced their hammers, their axes, their shuttles and their workshop wheels; those who had put out their fires, who had eaten their food, spoiled their orchards, and trampled under foot their thousands of acres of unharvested bread; were [now] the keepers of their dwellings, the carousers in their Temple, whose drunken riot insulted the ears of their dying.
The party encountered by me at the river shore were the last of the Mormons that left the city. They had all of them engaged the year before that they would vacate their homes, and seek some other place of refuge. It had been a condition of a truce between them and their assailants; and as an earnest of their good faith, the chief elders … , with their families, were to set out for the West in the Spring of 1846. It had been stipulated in return, that the rest of the Mormons might remain behind in their peaceful enjoyment of their Illinois abode, until their leaders, with their exploring party, could with all diligence select for them a new place of settlement beyond the Rocky Mountains, in California, or elsewhere, and until they had opportunity to dispose to the best advantage of the property which they were then to leave.
[But] the enemy had only waited till the emigrants were supposed to be gone on their road too far to return to interfere with them, and then renewed their aggressions [against the Saints remaining in Nauvoo].
The Joseph Smith family may have used this log cabin while adding to the Joseph Smith Homestead, their first home in Nauvoo. The cabin has been reconstructed by the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Photo by Dick Brown.
Kane said that during the truce while the Saints were still allowed to remain in Nauvoo, they worked on the temple.
Strange to say, the chief part of their respite was devoted to completing the structure of their … beautiful Temple. Since the dispersion of Jewry, probably, history affords us no parallel to the attachment of the Mormons for this edifice. Its erection had been enjoined upon them as a most sacred duty: they were proud of the honor it conferred upon their city, when it grew up in its splendour to become the chief object of the admiration of strangers upon the Upper Mississippi. Beside, they had built it as a labor of love; they could count up to a half-million [dollars] the value of their tithings and free-will offerings laid upon it. Hardly a Mormon woman had not given up to it some trinket or [money saved]: the poorest Mormon man had at least served a tenth part of his year upon its walls; … Therefore, though their enemies drove on them ruthlessly, they succeeded in parrying the last sword-thrust, till they had completed even the gilding of the angel and trumpet on the summit of its lofty spire.
The completed temple was dedicated in May 1846. With the sacred rites of consecration ended, the Saints emptied the structure of anything of value, and anything that could be desecrated by the mobs.
[The work] went on through the night; and when the morning of the next day dawned, all the ornaments and furniture, everything that could provoke a sneer, had been carried off; and except some fixtures that would not bear removal, the building was dismantled to the bare walls.
It was this day that saw the departure of the last elders, and the largest band that moved in one company together. The people of Iowa have told me, that from morning to night they [the Saints] passed westward like an endless procession. They did not seem greatly out of heart, they said; but, at the top of every hill before they disappeared, were to be seen looking back on their abandoned homes, and the far-seen Temple and its glittering spire.
Prior to his visit to Nauvoo, Kane had observed the westward-bound Saints at work and at play in the Camps of Israel. He was impressed that they were honest and sincere in their testimonies of the gospel. He expressed amazement at the sacrifices many of them made and at the love that existed in the camps in spite of the hunger and hardships the Saints suffered. In later years, he made three visits to the Saints in Utah, where he was very welcome. His last visit, in 1877, was at the death of Brigham Young to whose “masterly guidance,” he said, the Saints were indebted for their prosperity. Hours before his own death in 1883 in Pennsylvania, he asked his wife to send “The sweetest message you can make up to my Mormon friends—to all, my dear Mormon friends.”

Jared laughed, recalling his first memory of Ryan. The Wilsons had moved to the house across the street when Jared was only four. Glancing out his window at the new neighbors for the first time, he saw Ryan, barefooted and wearing nothing but a long T-shirt, furiously dribbling a rubber basketball with his fat, pudgy hands. He had looked up at Jared and flashed him a crooked, dimpled grin, inviting him to come play. Although Jared didn’t have an ounce of athletic blood in him, the two fast became friends.
They were the same age, their birthdays only three days apart. Despite the fact they had practically nothing else in common, they were inseparable even at an early age. They did everything together, from sharing animal crackers in sacrament meeting to constructing towns in the sandpile to destroy with their Tonka trucks. They were baptized on the same day. When Ryan completed his Eagle project, Jared completed his.
When they entered high school, their differences caused them to go separate ways. But it didn’t affect their friendship. Jared was at Ryan’s ball games, cheering from the band section of the bleachers. And Ryan was equally supportive of Jared’s interests. He attended the band concerts, science fairs, and debate meets. They were still the best of friends.
Jared wondered what could possibly be bothering Ryan. Whatever it was, Jared was determined to help him work it out.
Ryan cleared an empty spot before plopping down on Jared’s bed.
Jared looked sheepish. “Sorry my room’s such a mess,” he apologized as he gathered dirty clothes to toss in the hamper. “I was going to clean it, but …” He stopped when Ryan raised a questioning eyebrow.
“But what?”
Jared laughed. “Okay, so I wasn’t planning on it.” He wadded up a towel and threw it at Ryan. “You know me too well.”
Ryan rolled the towel into a ball, took aim, and shot it into the open hamper.
“Nice shot.” Jared cleared the books off his desk chair and moved it over by the bed. “Now. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Ryan was quiet for a minute. “It’s the offer I’ve received.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
Ryan placed his hands behind his head and fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Nothing. That’s the problem. It’s perfect.”
Jared was clearly puzzled. “I don’t understand. Who’s it from?”
“Oh … just the team ranked number one in the nation.”
“North Carolina?” Jared jumped out of his seat and danced around the room. “North Carolina! Ryan, that’s terrific!”
“Yeah, I know. They’re offering me a full-ride scholarship. If I accept, I’ll probably start next season.”
Jared sat back down and whistled. “Wow!”
Ryan sat up excitedly. “That’s exactly what I thought! Man, to think of me playing for a team like North Carolina. It’s just unreal! But …”
“But what?” Jared asked, thinking he already knew the answer.
Ryan was hesitant. He leaned forward and looked at his friend. “This is something I’ve wanted to do my whole life. And I’d do it, in a second, if it weren’t …”
“It’s your mission, isn’t it?” Jared said knowingly.
“Yeah,” Ryan admitted. “I always said that I’d serve a mission. But it seems like everything’s changing now.”
“I see.”
Ryan continued. “Before, playing basketball beyond high school was, I don’t know, a dream that I never thought would happen. But you’ve seen me, Jared! I’m playing better than ever before. I’m at the top of my game, and now I have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I can’t pass it all up, can I?” He paused and looked away.
Jared asked softly, “Are you willing to sacrifice your mission for a dream?” He sat quietly for a long time before asking, “Why do you play basketball, Ryan?”
Ryan shrugged. “Because I like to, I guess.”
“And because you’re good at it?”
“It makes it more fun, I suppose.”
Jared seemed dissatisfied. “Is that all?”
“I like the way it makes me feel.”
“And how’s that?” Jared gently prodded.
Again Ryan leaned back and studied the ceiling. “It’s hard to describe. It makes me feel good to know that I’ve achieved something, and that I was able to do it because I’ve worked hard.”
Jared nodded in approval. “Well, then you’re playing for the right reason.”
Ryan sat up and rolled his eyes. “You’re not helping me any, Jared!”
Jared laughed. “I’ve known you for a long time, Ryan. Unfortunately,” he added teasingly. “I know that you’ll make the right decision.”
“You’re right,” Ryan sighed as he stood up. “Thanks for talking to me, Jared. I’m going to go shoot a few hoops and think.”
“Hey, Ryan,” Jared called as he leaned out his door to find his friend battling with Wolf in the hallway. “Just one more thing. You can do the right things, but you need to do them for the right reasons.” Ryan looked up from scratching Wolf’s head.
“Yeah, I guess,” he said.
“Hello?”
“I’m going,” Ryan announced.
“Going where?” Jared asked as he pulled the shoe from Wolf’s mouth.
Ryan was impatient. “To the moon and back.”
“Right,” Jared said sarcastically.
“No, Jared, be serious. I’ve made my decision.”
“And …”
“And, I’d really rather tell you in person. Can I come over?”
“If you think you can get past the slobbering bodyguard in the hallway, go right ahead.”
Ryan laughed. “I think I can manage.”
Jared shook his head. “I can’t believe it! Well, yeah I guess I can. But what made you decide to give up North Carolina’s offer? I thought it was everything you ever wanted?”
“I thought so too. At first. But then I changed my mind. It wasn’t that hard of a choice I guess,” Ryan admitted.
“Well, what took you so long then? It’s been a whole week since I’ve seen you. I thought you’d fallen off the face of the earth or something.”
Ryan smiled. “Deep down I knew that serving a mission was the right thing to do,” he looked up at Jared. “But I just had to be sure I was doing it for the right reason.”
“And are you?”
“Absolutely.” When Ryan saw Jared’s puzzled expression he laughed and explained further. “I guess I have you to thank for it. It had something to do with what you said about sacrificing my mission for basketball. I like the way basketball makes me feel, but I love the way the gospel makes me feel even more. Making a basket is a great feeling, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling I get when I read my scriptures, or go to church, or help someone. I mean, like last summer, when I baptized my little sister—that was the greatest feeling in the world.” He smiled at the memory.
“The prophet said all worthy young men should serve a mission. I’ve thought about that all my life. It isn’t up to me to decide whether I should serve a mission. It’s just up to me whether I’ll answer the call.” He paused for a moment, then continued.
“I’ve been so blessed to have the gospel in my life, and I want to share it with everyone I can.” He shook his head. “I almost passed up the opportunity to serve the Lord, and then I realized that I’d be passing up way more than that. All the experiences I’d have, all the people I’d meet, and all the wonderful feelings I’d get knowing that I was doing the Lord’s work. Basketball’s just not worth all that. Besides,” he added with a grin, “there’s always P-days.”
He looked up to see Jared studying his face intensely. “Do you mean to tell me that you, Ryan Wilson, Basketball Star, will be satisfied playing basketball only on P-days?” Jared looked suspicious. “Who are you and what have you done with my friend?”
Ryan laughed. “I’m going on a mission, Jared. I’ve got an appointment to see the bishop for a mission interview. He has a better offer.” He punched Jared’s shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go polish your trombone.”

In 2017, after returning from my mission, I embarked on an academic journey fueled by faith and determination. I enrolled in a computer school, dedicating a year to acquiring valuable skills. My resolve grew stronger, leading me to take the university entrance exam. To my delight, I was successfully admitted that same year.
Amidst my academic pursuits, I learned about the Benson Agricultural and Food Scholarship. Despite applying twice, I faced disappointment as there were insufficient funds. However, my fortune changed when I met Karen Melby Teerlink, the missionary couple dedicated to welfare. With their support, I was finally awarded the scholarship.
Since receiving the Benson scholarship, my life has transformed remarkably. At Stella Maris Polytechnic University, I consistently achieved honor roll status, a testament to the comprehensive support provided by the scholarship, covering all fees, including books and other expenses.
The scholarship alleviated my financial struggles, allowing me to focus on my studies. This opportunity enabled me to serve as a student leader, a favorite among students, and a trusted communicator within the administration. I had the privilege to conduct surveys for the Center for Agricultural Research Institute (CARI) on integrated rice and fish farming, and for World Fish under CARI, as well as a survey for Solidaridad on cocoa seeding and plantain suckers. These experiences were invaluable and only possible because of the scholarship.
Today, I am proud to be the first in my family to earn a BS degree. This milestone sets a precedent for my siblings, encouraging them to pursue higher education. Inspired by the scholarship’s impact, I initiated an animal husbandry project, starting with pig raising and planning to expand to other animals like goats and cattle. My vision includes establishing an agribusiness that encompasses the entire value chain process, benefiting end consumers.
Currently, I am pursuing agribusiness studies at BYU-Idaho, an opportunity made possible by the scholarship and the support of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I am immensely grateful for these blessings and the positive changes in my life. The scholarship has not only advanced my education but also instilled a deep sense of responsibility to give back to society with the knowledge and skills I have gained.
My journey is a testament to the power of faith, perseverance, and the profound impact of the Benson Scholarship. I am committed to making a difference in my community and beyond, forever indebted to those who have supported me along the way.

When we grew older, I had another test of being a pioneer. I had many friends, and a lot of them didn’t know Jenny. Although they were never rude, I always felt torn between Jenny and my other friends. It was hard and definitely a conscious effort, but I decided to help them get to know her. In time my other friends felt more comfortable with Jenny.
To this day, I am still friends with Jenny. She goes to my same high school, and I see her almost every day. I truly feel proud to walk around the halls with her.

A few weeks before leaving to serve a full-time mission, I went to visit the home of an old friend who was not a member of the Church. I intended to stay for just a few minutes, but due to a heavy rainstorm, I had to stay longer than anticipated. So my friend, his mother, and I sat down and began to talk about the Church and my upcoming mission.
I explained that I might be assigned to serve in cities such as Rio de Janeiro, Belo Horizonte, or Brasília.
For some reason, my friend’s mother decided to give me the address of her sister who lived in a town near Rio de Janeiro. She said that I should go and visit her if I were ever sent there.
I left for my mission on July 7, 1982. I served in many different cities, including one near the place my friend’s aunt lived. I thought about visiting her, but her home was not in my area. I didn’t tell the missionaries assigned to that area about her because I was still hoping I would be able to go myself.
At that time, missionaries served for 18 months. The time passed without seeing my friend’s aunt and her family.
Years later, while attending a ward social, I happened to see my nonmember friend. I learned that he had been invited by one of his relatives, an aunt named Etiene who had recently been baptized into the Church. I then found out that Aunt Etiene had just moved into our ward from the state of Rio de Janeiro. I quickly came to love his aunt Etiene, and we loved to talk together about our memories of Rio de Janeiro. To my embarrassment, I learned that she was the same woman I wanted to visit during my mission. She had been baptized only recently, after the unexpected death of her husband.
Fortunately, she has forgiven me for not encouraging other missionaries to visit her. However, she was disappointed over the time she lost while she was not enjoying the blessings of the gospel.

Another way we partner with God is by letting our light shine. Eighteen years ago, while I was serving as a bishop, a woman visited our ward for a Sunday worship. After the service, I invited her to meet in my office. During our discussion, a Primary child walked into my office, greeted the visitor, and gave me her tithing envelope, after which I proceeded to shake her hand and thank her. These few seconds with this faithful Primary child touched the visitor, and she began to ask questions about tithing and other doctrines of the Church. She later joined the Church and today serves as a stake Relief Society president—all because a Primary child was living the gospel.

The headquarters of the Church are in this city which recently hosted the 19th Winter Olympics. We made a deliberate decision that we would not use this as a time or place to proselytize, but we were confident that out of this significant event would come a wonderful thing for the Church. The great buildings which we have here—the Temple, the Tabernacle, this magnificent Conference Center, the Joseph Smith Memorial Building, Family History facilities, the Church Administration Building, the Church Office Building, our Welfare facilities, together with scores of chapels in this valley—could not be overlooked by those who walked the streets of this and neighboring cities. As Mike Wallace once remarked to me, “These structures all denote something solid.”

And beyond this, we had total confidence in our people, many thousands of them, who would serve as volunteers in this great undertaking. They would be dependable; they would be pleasant; they would be knowledgeable; they would be accommodating. The unique and distinctive capacity of our people in speaking the languages of the world would prove to be a tremendous asset beyond anything to be found elsewhere.

Well, it all worked out. The visitors came by the hundreds of thousands. Some came with suspicion and hesitancy, old and false images persisting in their minds. They came feeling they might get trapped in some unwanted situation by religious zealots. But they found something they never expected. They discovered not only the scenic wonder of this area, with its magnificent mountains and valleys, they found not only the wonderful spirit of the international games at their best, but they found beauty in this city. They found hosts who were gracious and accommodating and anxious to assist them. I do not wish to infer that such hospitality was limited to our people. The entire community joined together in a great expression of hospitality. But out of all of this came something wonderful for this Church. Representatives of the media, so often a tough and calloused group, with very few exceptions spoke and wrote in language both complimentary and accurately descriptive of a unique culture they found here, of the people they met and dealt with, of the spirit of hospitality which they felt.
Television carried the picture to billions of people across the earth. Newspapers and magazines ran story after story.

Thousands upon tens of thousands walked through Temple Square, admired the majestic House of the Lord, sat in the Tabernacle and listened to the matchless music of the choir. More thousands filled this great Conference Center to watch a wonderful production dealing with the Church and its worldwide mission. Other thousands visited the Family History Center. The media were hosted in the Joseph Smith Memorial Building. We were interviewed for television, radio, and the press by correspondents from many parts of this nation and from across the world. I am told that nearly 4,000 stories about the Church appeared in the German press alone.
Georgie Anne Geyer, prominent syndicated writer whose column appears in many newspapers, wrote as follows: “How on earth could a largely Mormon state do something so daring as hosting an international celebrity meeting? Would the world come gladly to a state whose dominant religion asks members to abstain from alcohol, tobacco and even caffeine, three staples of international conferences?”
And then she went on to quote Raymond T. Grant, artistic director of the Olympic Arts Festival. He talked of the opening ceremony and said: “‘You know, 98 percent of the entire cast were volunteers, and that’s huge. In fact, most were not paid at all. This is an extraordinary story, and I’d link it directly to Mormon culture. As a Catholic boy from New York, I found it interesting that Brigham Young, the founder of the Utah settlement of the Mormons, built a theater before anything else.’
“He went on to tally up: The state has six dance companies; more pianos and harps are sold in Utah than anywhere in the United States; the Mormon Tabernacle Choir has [360] members; and the oldest Steinway dealership in Utah … was started as early as 1862. In Utah, their per capita spending on students is one of the lowest—yet they boast high test scores. ‘It has been fascinating for me, having to tap into this culture.’”
Miss Geyer concluded her story by writing: “It is simply the mix of a serious and upright religion, of families who foster and insist upon providing the highest levels of culture right along with the highest modern technology, and of generally sensible organizing and governing. In short, it is a modern mix of the old America” (“Salt Lake City and State of Utah Reveal Themselves to the World,” Salt Lake Tribune, 15 Feb. 2002, A15).
If there were time, I could give you many quotations from the seasoned journalists of the world, who wrote in a most laudatory fashion.
Was there anything negative? Of course. But it was minimal. We had private interviews with presidents of nations, with ambassadors, with leaders in business, and other fields.
In 1849, two years after our people first arrived here and following the discovery of gold in California, many were discouraged. They had struggled to wrest a living from the arid soil. Crickets had devoured their crops. The winters were cold. Many thought they would go to California and get rich. President Young stood before them and encouraged them to remain, promising that “God will temper the climate, and we shall build a city and a temple to the Most High God in this place. We will extend our settlements to the east and west, to the north and to the south, and we will build towns and cities by the hundreds, and thousands of the Saints will gather in from the nations of the earth. This will become the great highway of the nations. Kings and emperors and the noble and wise of the earth will visit us here” (in Preston Nibley, Brigham Young: The Man and His Work [1936], 128).
We have witnessed the fulfillment of that prophecy in these recent days. Needless to say, I am happy with what has happened. Those visitors tasted the distinctive culture of this community. We believe that culture is worth preserving. I compliment and thank our people who participated in such numbers and so generously, and I compliment and thank all others who worked together to make of this a wonderful and most significant event.
Now I wish to speak rather quickly of one or two other matters.
Speaking of Brigham Young has reminded me of the Perpetual Education Fund which we have established. It was only a year ago that I first spoke of this in our general conference. The contributions of generous Latter-day Saints have come in to assure us that this endeavor is now on a solid foundation. We will need more yet, but already it has been demonstrated that vast good will come of this undertaking. Young men and women in the underprivileged areas of the world, young men and women who for the most part are returned missionaries, will be enabled to get good educations that will lift them out of the slough of poverty in which their forebears for generations have struggled. They will marry and go forward with skills that will qualify them to earn well and take their places in society where they can make a substantial contribution. They will likewise grow in the Church, filling positions of responsibility and rearing families who will continue in the faith.
I have time to read only one testimonial. It comes from a young man who has been blessed by this program.
He says: “It is so wonderful that I do not have to just dream anymore about my education or my future. The Lord has cleared the way, and I am doing it!
“I am currently attending a great technical institute in our country, where I am studying to become a computer technician. … By going to school, I am discovering my abilities. The discipline I developed on my mission helps me to succeed. … Never before has any young man felt more blessed than I do. The PEF has strengthened my faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Now, more than ever, I feel the responsibility the gospel places upon me to prepare myself to be a better member, a better leader, and a better father. …
“My dear mother, who has sacrificed so much, gets so emotional that she cries when she prays at night because of her gratitude to the Lord. …
“Now, I envision my town being blessed because of me. I envision the Church with leaders who have financial stability and who can support the Lord’s work with all their might, mind, and strength. I see the Church prospering. I am excited to start my own family and teach them that we can be self-sufficient. So I must finish my education. I will then repay the loan quickly to help my fellowmen. … I am grateful for the Savior’s mercy. He truly sustains us with His love.”
And so it goes, my brothers and sisters. As this great work moves across the earth, we are blessing now some 2,400 young people. Others will be blessed.
May the Lord bless you, and each of us, as we rejoice in our opportunity to be a part of this great cause in this wonderful season of the Lord’s work is my humble prayer in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

When eight young men from the Gunnison Utah Stake were asked to sing a special number for a stake meeting, something was started. The song was successful, and the boys continued to rehearse together under the direction of Sister Elmont. She was their accompanist and prepared special arrangements of music for their performances.
The double quartet sang in sacrament meetings and in other church activities. They sang at the dedication of a new seminary building in Gunnison and at youth conferences. They were also invited to perform at the state PTA convention for an audience of two thousand. They received superior ratings in region and state music competitions.
Now the double quartet has broken up. All eight are serving missions in areas around the world: Scotland, Japan, Minnesota, Argentina, Peru, and Guatemala.

It was a fall day in Wyoming. The majestic Teton Mountains rising high into the blue sky were delicately mirrored in Jackson Lake—a breathtakingly beautiful setting for the beginning of a high adventure canoe trip down the 158 kilometers of rugged Snake River. True to its name, the river curled its way through a wilderness area abundant with wildlife. There would be few roads and only occasional trails.
Excitement was high, and hearts seemed to be beating a little faster than usual as the 19 Scout leader fathers and their 16-year-old sons waited on the river bank at Moran to begin their canoe trip down the Snake River.
Two tanned, tall, river-experienced 19-year-old young men would be our guides—one at the head of the group and the other following close behind. Their every word of instruction and warning was caught by ears that were straining to learn. There was a bit of apprehension as they warned about whirlpools, with their circling current, that could take a canoe and its occupants down under. There was also the instruction about approaching and riding through the turbulent water areas. The main word of instruction was, “Whatever you do, don’t unbalance your canoe.” We resolved and it was our intention that we would do everything the guides had instructed us to do. We would stroke evenly on each side; we would kneel up all the way so we could move easily and keep the canoe in balance.
As the leader responsible for the group, I seemed to be having some doubts as I listened to the safety precautions the guides were giving us. I remembered a newscast a few days before telling of a father who had fallen from his canoe while going through a rapid and had struck his head on a rock and had drowned before he could be recovered, even though he had his life jacket properly in place.
The lead guide gracefully slipped his canoe into the water and glided effortlessly out into the river. In turn, each canoe, with father and son in place, followed. It was a beautiful day—the fresh clean air was invigorating; the clear blue sky with an occasional white billowy cloud added to the beauty of the surroundings. The water was clear and the river flowed smoothly along. The spruce and pine trees, together with grass and shrubs, made each turn of the river one of artistic beauty. The first 16 kilometers were so enjoyable that most of the fear and concern faded away.
As we looked ahead, we could see another stream emptying into the main river. We could see the whirlpool signs, and we became more alert as we approached the junction point. All of a sudden there was an excited cry ahead: “Look at the moose!” I wanted to see the moose, so I whirled around and caught a fleeting glimpse of it with its large flat antlers just as I was going headfirst into the Snake River.
The water was cold; the rocks were hard. I struggled to get to the surface. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind: “I wonder where my son Dave is. How will I find our canoe? Can I find my paddle?”
As I swam toward the shore, I caught sight of Dave right ahead making his way to the bank. I lost my hat and all of the suntan lotion and the dark glasses I had in my pocket. But I was glad to get out of the cold water and again get back in the canoe so we could stay with the others.
After that, they could have said “Look!” at a thousand moose and we would not have turned around to look. We looked straight ahead. There were kilometers of rapids and turbulent water, and we went safely through. We didn’t look to the left or to the right. In fact, one rapid was so severe that one canoe in trying to negotiate it tipped over backward. The father was heavier than his 16-year-old son, and he was in the back. They had not intended to unbalance the canoe, but they did. They got wet just the same. Intention is not enough!

Temple worship is as ancient as the hills. Whenever the Lord has had a covenant people upon the earth, He has always commanded them to erect temples or holy sanctuaries akin to the tabernacle (see Exodus 25), where He can come and dwell and instruct His children in the ways of righteousness. All sincere seekers of truth who enter these sacred edifices with a broken heart and a contrite spirit have the opportunity to make and keep sacred covenants that are both salvific and binding in nature.

In Doctrine and Covenants 109:8, we read about the special purpose of temples. Each temple serves as “a house of prayer, a house of fasting, a house of faith, a house of learning, a house of glory, a house of order, a house of God,” making temples the pinnacle of our worship.

My wife and I had the privilege of visiting the Accra Ghana Temple, thanks to the Temple Patron Assistance Fund. The whole process was an exercise in patience and faith. We learned to pray earnestly and wait on the Lord for the righteous desires of our hearts. Our prayers were answered when we got word from the Africa Central Area that our application had been approved. Our flight to and from the temple was safe and uneventful.

My wife and I got sealed for time and all eternity on 29 May 2024. It was an unforgettable experience—one that I will cherish for the rest of my life. After spending the day in the temple, I wrote that evening in my journal: “I felt a great outpouring of the Spirit today during Annet and my sealing ceremony. The blessings pronounced upon us are too great to fathom, yet we are grateful that the good Lord has deemed us worthy to receive the choicest blessings that heaven and earth has to offer. Eternal life is within reach.
“I am so lucky to have my wife as my eternal companion. Couldn’t ask for a better partner. She is my fellow traveler on the path that leads back home to our Father’s presence. I have a tangible witness of God’s love and mercy, and I’m excited to see what the future holds.”

What added to our joy as the opportunity we had to perform proxy work for my paternal grandfather and my maternal grandmother. There was a special presence in the air as my wife and I were baptized and endowed on their behalf. I know they are smiling down on us. I also had the singular privilege of performing the initiatory ordinances for ancestors of two members of my ward.

Some of the progenitors of our ward members lived in the 1700s. I feel a special connection to these individuals even though I do not know them. This must be the what the spirit of Elijah feels like with hearts turning to fathers and mothers—to our ancestors. I have a firm hope that the deceased individuals we did the proxy work for have been safely gathered into the fold on the other side of the veil. The gathering is truly the greatest work we can engage in right now, and it’s happening on both sides of the veil.

In early 2022, Brother Michael MacDonald, of the Bangor 2nd Ward in the Belfast Northern Ireland Stake, was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. He committed to change his lifestyle to try and reverse the diagnosis. As part of his journey to a healthier lifestyle, he received help and support from family and friends.
Following discussions with some family members, Brother MacDonald decided to take on the challenge to climb five peaks in five days—to hike the five tallest mountains in the UK and Ireland in five consecutive days. His brother, Jonathan MacDonald, brother-in-law, Gerrard Doherty, and friend and member of Michael’s ward, Steven Murphy, thought it a good idea to join him.
Brother MacDonald’s son, Joel, is diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder and is educationally statemented. Michael had the inspirational idea to not only do this challenge for his own benefit, but to also raise funds for Autism Northern Ireland. He states, “I wanted to give something back, in order to thank all who have assisted my son in enabling him to access education and reach his potential.”
On 26 April 2023, they commenced the challenge, starting with the tallest mountain in Northern Ireland, Slieve Donard. Day 2 was then a 300-mile drive to Killarney, where they hiked Carrauntoohil, the tallest mountain in the Republic of Ireland. From there, a 220-mile drive to Dublin Port to catch the ferry to Holyhead Wales. Following a few hours’ sleep, it was now Friday 28 April, and they were ready for Day 3. This took them up Snowdon, the tallest mountain in Wales, followed by another 200-mile car journey up to the beautiful Lake District. On day 4, 29 April, they made it to the top of Scafell Pike, the tallest mountain in England. Their journey continued north with a 256-mile drive to the base of Ben Nevis, the tallest mountain in Scotland and all the British Isles. On day 5, 30 April 2023 this very tired, but very accomplished band of brothers made it to the summit of Ben Nevis.
Over the five days they were all overwhelmed by the outpouring of support and generosity of family, friends and members of the Belfast Northern Ireland Stake and beyond. This terrific accomplishment raised over £5100 for Autism Northern Ireland, which Michael knows will be put to good use, helping children and young people like his son, Joel.

Years later, I had a disagreement with a coworker. When he came by our house to apologize, he left a book titled Our Heritage: A Brief History of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In it, I read about the martyrdom of the Prophet Joseph Smith. This story touched me deeply.
I also found a photo of two young men wearing white shirts, ties, and name tags. They shared the gospel of Jesus Christ throughout the world. I wondered if there were such missionaries in my town.
That evening I prayed and asked God to help me find His missionary church. The next day I looked for the missionaries. I checked with every person I saw who was wearing a white shirt, but I had no success.
Outside my home a few days later, I saw three people wearing white shirts, ties, and name tags! I ran inside, got the book, and hurried after them.
When I caught up with them, one of them asked, “Can we help you?”
“Is this book from your church?” I asked.
“Yes, it’s our book,” he replied enthusiastically. “We are the missionaries.”
After several weeks of learning about the restored gospel, I was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. A year later my father was baptized.
Because I still wanted to serve the Lord—a desire that had remained with me since I was young—I began preparing to serve a full-time mission. What joy I felt the day I received my own call to be a full-time missionary!

A large crowd had braved snowy, treacherous weather conditions and a two-hour drive to Nephi, Utah, to cheer for our high school state championship girls’ basketball game. I felt honored as I watched the townspeople troop in from our small, mountain community of Morgan, Utah. So many had come to watch us play. And boy, did they get a show! Little did I realize at that time the great lesson in life I would be taught at the end of that day.
The score teetered back and forth between the teams in that game on February 17, 1990. It was a tough game, physically and mentally. Early in the second quarter I found myself sitting on the bench, with three fouls. My position not only forced me to become an observer to the battle on the court, but also allowed me to notice the order in which the players were being substituted.
Coach, what are you doing? I thought to myself as he repeatedly put Jodi Rees, a sophomore, into the game before Trisha Garn, a junior. Trisha had been the first person off the bench all season, and now, at state, Coach Wade Fiscus was giving Trisha’s time to Jodi. Jodi’s abilities were certainly par, but changes like this in such an important game weren’t characteristic of Coach Fiscus. I finally decided he must have a good reason and didn’t question his motives.
Throughout the third and fourth quarters the game remained close. While Jodi played her best game, Trisha sat on the bench smiling and cheering her heart out for her friend. Trisha only played a few seconds of the entire championship game.
It came down to the final 30 seconds and the teams were tied. We went up by one, and then two, and finally three. A missed three point attempt by the opposing team gave us the ball with nine seconds remaining. We were still cautious, but could taste the win. The seconds ticked down as we passed the ball to midcourt and the buzzer sounded naming us state champions with a score of 53–50! Bedlam broke out as our fans and teammates swarmed to the floor and surrounded us. We had just achieved the goal we had worked for all year. The trophy was ours and we reveled in our moment of glory.
After the presentation of the trophies, the ladders were brought out to cut the nets down and each team member made the climb to the top to cut a string. Finally, the net hung by one, lonely string. Hal Rees, Jodi’s dad, had the honor of cutting it. He struggled awkwardly up the ladder and, gripping the scissors firmly, managed to snip the last piece.
As the net dropped to the floor tears rolled down the cheeks of our Morgan fans, and when it was placed around Mr. Rees’s neck, members of the Rees family held each other tight.
I soon came to understand why Jodi had played more than Trisha. It was not because Coach Fiscus was crazy, and it was not because one player was a lot better than the other; it was because our friend and teammate had done the most unselfish thing possible—she had asked Coach to let Jodi have her playing time. Trisha Garn understood what many in the room didn’t. Jodi’s 40-year-old dad would not live to see her play again. He was dying of a cancerous brain tumor.
Trisha’s selfless act and the sight of Hal hugging Jodi really put our state championship in perspective for me. Sure, it was nice to have the honors of men, but compared to eternal matters of family and Christlike love it didn’t seem so significant.
“I don’t feel like I made a sacrifice,” Trisha comments. “Jodi is an outstanding athlete. I wanted to do this for my friend.”
Two-and-a-half weeks after the game, Jodi’s dad died. At his funeral the song “Wind beneath My Wings” was sung. Every time I hear the line from that song “Did you ever know that you were my hero?” I think of Trisha. She is my hero. And she’d probably say, “No big deal.” But it’s a big deal to me.

I returned from the mission field with many hopes regarding employment. Even though I had worked before, I had no qualifications, so I did what I could to find work, but I was never satisfied and could not see any progress in my future.
I always wanted to study, but I could not pay for schooling, and my family was not in a position to help me.
When the Perpetual Education Fund was started, I saw an opportunity to change my future. I relied upon my Heavenly Father to help me, and thus I chose a course of study with His inspiration.
I chose to study nursing. My schooling required a lot of study and dedication. But I became impassioned with nursing. Three months after graduating, I was able to find employment at one of the best hospitals in Alagoas, Brazil.
I have many plans for the future. I plan to take advanced studies in nursing, and I have started to pay back my loan so others can partake of the opportunity of receiving an education and the blessings that come with it.

I was sad when I found out that my ballet exam was to be on a Sunday. My friends in the class couldn’t understand why we chose not to do things like that on a Sunday. They even offered to take me to the exam after our church meetings. I knew that the right choice was not to go, and Mum and Dad said Heavenly Father would bless me for keeping the Sabbath Day holy. At my next lesson after the exam day, my teacher gave me a medal. She felt I deserved it even though I didn’t do the exam. It is good to choose the right. I felt happy inside.