Gospel Story Finder

I was trying to teach a lovely young lady once who had terrible problems. The major difficulty was that she had concluded there was no hope for her. She had cut herself off, shut the door. She would not listen to and really didn’t want to hear promises that she felt applied to everybody else but not to her. She was making the most critical mistake that can be made, and that is to negate for her the gift God had given in the life of his Beloved Son, who himself gave his life willingly for all of us. She was sure it couldn’t happen to someone who had made the sad mistakes she had.

We read through the verses you might have chosen, some of you perhaps with greater wisdom than I did, out of Isaiah 1 and the fifty-eighth section of the Doctrine and Covenants and Ezekiel 18 and 33, the promises of God’s forgiveness that state that our sins are wiped out in his heart and mind when we truly repent, for he will never mention them; they are gone. Truly repentant, penitent children of God are forgiven. She seemed not to comprehend, nor to believe.

I turned then to two other verses that have become so precious to me and read them. I share them today with you: “And now, my beloved brethren, seeing that our merciful God has given us so great knowledge concerning these things, let us remember him, and lay aside our sins, and not hang down our heads, for we are not cast off” (2 Ne. 10:20; emphasis added).

I watched the warmth and beauty of the Spirit of the Lord penetrate the hard curtain that had shut her off—by her own doing. I saw a tear come. Then we were able to turn to this wonderful ninth chapter of the book of Moroni to read a line that I wish all of us truly understood and had mastery of. Mormon is finishing his last letter to his son. He has reminded Moroni of some terrible problems of the time. He has been candid, laying out his own sad view of things as they are. In summation he declared the most unpleasant thing people could hear from a prophet, that he could not recommend them unto God. But then he says to his own son, “I recommend thee unto God,” and bears his witness and delivers his valedictory to Moroni in these marvelous words:
My son, be faithful in Christ [that is where it starts, and that is the heart of it all]; and may not the things which I have written grieve thee, to weigh thee down unto death; but may Christ lift thee up, and may his sufferings and death, and the showing his body unto our fathers [that is, his resurrection], and his mercy and long-suffering, and the hope of his glory and of eternal life, rest in your mind forever. [Moroni 9:25]
Don’t let infamy, don’t let sin, don’t let what is happening in the world weigh you down. That is not what Christ is all about; don’t let it grieve you. Let him lift you up. And let all that he represents for us rest in your minds forever.

Not long ago a mother and father from the Republic of Georgia faced a terrifying reality. The doctors told them their baby had a heart condition, and unless he had surgery he would die. Because they did not have adequate facilities in Georgia, the mother and father walked across their country and all the way to Yerevan, Armenia, seeking medical help.

The Armenian doctors examined the child and agreed that the baby needed heart surgery. They knew how to perform the surgery and they had the necessary facilities, but they couldn’t perform the operation because they didn’t have the right tubing. As much as they wanted to help, there was nothing they could do. They told the couple to take their baby home to die.

As you know, the Church—through its Humanitarian Service arm—sends millions of pounds of food, clothing, and medical and educational materials throughout the world each year. As it so happened, Elder and Sister Sangster were serving a humanitarian mission in Armenia, and they had just received a container of medical supplies.

You may have already guessed that tucked away in this container of medical supplies was a box of precisely the kind of tubing needed for this child’s operation.

When the doctors discovered the tubing, they rushed the baby into surgery and performed the operation.

That’s a wonderful story and one that repeats itself daily as a result of the tremendous humanitarian help that is given to many nations in the world. The great welfare effort given by the Church benefits members and nonmembers during times of need. It reaches out to care for others. But what happened later makes it an even better story. One day, soon after the operation, Elder and Sister Sangster heard a knock at their door. When they opened it, this loving mother and father fell to their knees and wept as they thanked the Sangsters and their church for supplying the precious tubing that had saved the life of their child.

Finally, look for insights inside from the Spirit. An early trial in my life was giving up a four-year scholarship to serve a mission in Italy. Upon my return, I was humbled to discover I could test out of many Italian classes due to my Italian fluency. My grades not only helped my acceptance to law school but with a law school scholarship that the Lord had lovingly returned to me. The scripture Ether 12:6 came to mind—that we “receive no witness until after the trial of our faith.” [12] But the Lord had further refining to do. After my first year, my top-20% law school status was challenged when a drunk driver hit us head-on, which, in turn, decimated my law school grades. I made a covenant with the Lord not to study on Sundays (amongst other covenants), much to the chagrin of my law school study partners. My covenants resulted in nearly straight A’s the remainder of law school and a return to the top 20% upon graduation.

I have been blessed by the collective apostolic, personal, and professional experience and insight of the quorum members with whom I serve. An example from my association with Elder Robert D. Hales highlights the remarkable opportunities I have to learn from and serve with these leaders.
Several years ago I spent a Sunday afternoon with Elder Hales in his home as he was recovering from a serious illness. We discussed our families, our quorum responsibilities, and important experiences.
At one point I asked Elder Hales, “You have been a successful husband, father, athlete, pilot, business executive, and Church leader. What lessons have you learned as you have grown older and been constrained by decreased physical capacity?”
Elder Hales paused for a moment and responded, “When you cannot do what you have always done, then you only do what matters most.”
I was struck by the simplicity and comprehensiveness of his answer. My beloved apostolic associate shared with me a lesson of a lifetime—a lesson learned through the crucible of physical suffering and spiritual searching.

When she told me that they needed volunteers, I knew I could help by using social media to get the message out to as many Church members as fast as possible.

I contacted some of the bishops and Relief Society presidents of the Chorley England Stake and by Monday morning they were headed to various designated distribution hubs for the Holiday Hunger East Lancashire initiative.

These wonderful friends and members of the Church showed up on multiple occasions, willing to serve with no questions asked, to collect bags full of meals that had been prepared by established local food businesses.

It was inspiring to see willing volunteers, from the Church and community, queuing out of the doors. Some would pick up the lunches, go to more than ten addresses, and then come back asking if they could do more.

Some volunteers even helped in the kitchen preparing those meals. As the professionals worked tirelessly cooking endless amounts of pasta, sausages, sauces, vegetables and so much more, the volunteers got it all packed in individual takeaway tubs; one meal for each child for each day of the half-term week.

On more than one occasion, I was able to help with giving drop-off location details to the deliverers, and sometimes deliver lunches myself.

The stories we heard of grateful mothers, fathers, and children kept us all motivated when things got hectic, when we became weary with the load, and felt we couldn’t get the food out on time.

What brought us all together was an unfortunate turn of events, but it united us in our determination to feed the 3,000 signed-up children who would otherwise have gone hungry that week. I’ve never been a part of an event on such a large scale. It was overwhelming at times. Some days I would be up and out the door by 7:30 am and not return until 8 pm. As a stay-at-home mum, it was quite a change of pace! But I know that the Lord required my help for that one week. He guided me to bump into the friend that got me involved. By no means can I take any of the credit, but I know that I was a tool in the Lord’s hands. It was my purpose to help gather those volunteers so that essential work could get done—to feed His children.

Paddy loved to collect string. Whenever he found even a short piece, he rolled it onto his ball of string. This ball was as big as an orange, and each day it grew bigger and bigger.
One Saturday morning Paddy found a long piece of red string. He sat down on the front steps to wind it onto his ball. But just as he picked it up, he heard his mother calling him.
“I’ll leave my string here on the step,” he said to himself. “Then I’ll come right back and finish.”
Paddy ran into the house and found his mother in the kitchen.
“Paddy,” she said, “would you please take out the garbage for me.”
Quickly Paddy picked up the paper sack of garbage, ran out the back door, and tossed the sack into the garbage can.
He was gone only a few moments, but when he went back to the front steps, the new piece of red string was gone.
Paddy looked all over the porch. The big ball of string was right where he had left it, but he couldn’t find the new red piece of string anywhere. He looked up and down the sidewalk. He looked all around the steps.
“Mike,” Paddy asked when his best friend walked by, “did you see a piece of red string anywhere?”
“No,” Mike said. “I haven’t seen any red string. I’d help you look for it, but I’m on my way to the store for my grandma.”
Tabby the cat was lying nearby under a rosebush. Paddy walked over and looked under the cat and all around the bush. But there was no red string there either!
“Well, I guess someone must have taken it,” Paddy decided sadly.
A few days later Paddy’s father asked, “Did I hear you say something about a missing red string?”
“Oh, yes!” Paddy replied. “Did you find it?”
“I think so,” his father said. “Come with me.”
They went out in the backyard together, and Father put a ladder up to the top of the willow tree.
“Climb up the ladder,” he said, “and look around to see if you can find your string.”
Paddy climbed up the ladder. When he reached the top, he saw his red string! It was making a beautiful lining for a robin’s nest.
As Paddy climbed down the ladder, his father said, “If you still want your string, you better take it now before the robin lays her eggs.”
“Oh, no!” Paddy cried. “I wouldn’t want to spoil Mrs. Robin’s nest. She needs the string more than I do.”
His father smiled. “Good!” he said. “I was hoping you’d feel that way.”
While his father was putting the ladder away, Paddy thought about his ball of string. It’s fun to find pieces of string and watch my ball get bigger all the time, he decided, but it’s even more fun to share with someone who needs it.

Life cannot be all about work, and it cannot be all about play; there needs to be a certain balance. I would like to give you a personal example.

We married a year after returning from my mission. Coming home, I still had to do my military service, and when that part was finished, I started working full time. I met Marjan at a YA summer camp shortly after returning home from my mission and we got married a year later. We were poor but happy newlyweds with no car but wonderful bicycles. We lived about an hour away from the stake center by public transportation, and the stake conference was coming up. The cost for me to go to the priesthood leadership session of that conference would equal a week’s groceries. Besides that, I felt I needed to stay with my sweetheart since we just gotten married, and I needed to hold her hand all the time. On the stake conference Saturday morning, while I was comfortably sitting on the couch—yes, we managed to have a couch after some weeks—she asked me why I was not getting ready to go to the priesthood session. I told her I did not want her to feel lonely without me. Well, you should have seen the look on her face when she told me that, as a priesthood leader, my place was to be in that conference meeting. I am so grateful for her directing me in the right way, otherwise I would not have been standing here addressing you today.

Yes, our priority should be the one we are sealed to, but we should not use this as an excuse and miss out on growing experiences that make us better.

David Brooks, in an editorial titled “The Moral Bucket List,” developed the concept that there are “two sets of virtues, the résumé virtues and the eulogy virtues. The résumé virtues are the skills you bring to the marketplace. The eulogy virtues are the ones that are talked about at your funeral.”7 Brooks correctly concluded that the eulogy virtues are much more important. This hit home for me personally because I had an experience when I was in my mid-20s that had a profound impact on me. It involved the funerals of two good men that took place only a few days apart. The account is true, but I have changed the names and have purposely been vague about a few of the facts.

I was 25 years old, had graduated from Stanford Law School, and had just started employment with a law firm. I spent my workday world with highly educated people who had amassed significant material possessions. They were kind and on the whole gracious and attractive people.

The Church members I associated with were much more diverse. Most of them had little material wealth. They were wonderful people, and most had meaning in their lives. It was at this juncture that two older, retired men I had known for many years passed away. Their funerals were held only a few days apart, and I traveled to both funerals. I have decided to call one of the men Rich and the other man Faithful. Those two funerals are cemented in my mind because they clarified the significance of the choices all people have before them, especially the young. They also demonstrate the complexity of the distinction between the résumé virtues and the eulogy virtues.

Both Rich and Faithful served missions as young men. By all accounts, they were both dedicated missionaries. After they attended college, their lives began to diverge. Rich married a beautiful woman who over time became less active in the Church. Faithful married an equally beautiful woman who was completely active in the Church. More than any other factor, this decision framed the remaining decisions of their lives. In my experience, when couples remain true and faithful to the Savior and the eternal significance of the family, the eulogy virtues are almost always preserved.

I will now share more about Rich. He had wonderful people skills and cared a great deal about people. He began employment with a major U.S. corporation and ultimately became president of that company. He had a large income and lived in a large, beautiful home set on spacious grounds. That is why I have decided to call him Rich. It would be fair to say that his career choices were not just good or better but were the best.

His family and Church choices, however, were not so good. He was a good man and did not engage in personal choices that were in and of themselves evil, but his family choices and influence on his children focused almost exclusively on education and employment, essentially the résumé virtues that are so valued in the marketplace. His sons also embarked on excellent careers. They did not, however, remain active in the Church, and they married young women who were not members. I am not aware of all the facts about his sons, but in each case these marriages ended in divorce.

Rich and his wife also became less active. They were primarily involved in high-profile social and community activities. He always considered himself LDS and was proud of his mission, but he did not attend church. He would, from time to time, contribute to Church building projects and assist LDS members in their careers. Furthermore, he was an influence for honesty, integrity, and goodwill in all the positions he held.

His funeral was held at a nondenominational chapel at the cemetery. Many top executives and dignitaries attended the funeral, including the governor of the state where he lived. Except for his children, grandchildren, and me, everyone attending was over the age of 50. It was, on the whole, a somber funeral. Basic principles of the plan of happiness were not taught, and little was said of Jesus Christ. Rich’s life was based almost exclusively on résumé virtues.

Faithful’s employment decisions were far less successful. His initial effort at a small independent business was thwarted when the business burned and he lost everything. He subsequently created a small business but could barely make his required payments. He had a small but adequate home. He enjoyed his work and his interaction with people. His career was good and certainly satisfactory but not distinguished or what might be called best. It was not a résumé-virtues career.

His family and Church choices, on the other hand, were absolutely the best. He and his wife were completely active in the Church. He served as called, often as a teacher, attended the temple frequently, and was a faithful priesthood holder. He had wonderful relationships, especially with his large family and his many grandchildren. They were all well educated, but his main emphasis to them was on living a Christlike life. In his retirement, he and his wife served a mission together. Though he faced trials, including the death of a son in World War II, he achieved satisfaction and joy throughout his life because of the purpose and meaning provided by his family and the gospel of Jesus Christ.

His funeral in the ward meetinghouse was large and joyful. People of all ages attended, including large numbers of grandchildren and young people he had served. The plan of happiness was taught, and the Savior was at the center of the service. It was an exemplary Latter-day Saint funeral. The talks were about his character, kindness, concern for others, and faith in and love of the Lord Jesus Christ.

I have indicated that these two funerals came at a defining time for me. I had served a mission, and I loved the Church. I was just starting my career and was becoming impressed with those having material and occupational success. I realized that the choices I was making would define my happiness in this life and determine the legacy I would leave. I also realized the eternal significance of the choices that were before me. It was clear to me that choices have eternal significance. What was most important to me about the lives I just described is that I realized that the most significant choices can be made by everyone, regardless of their talents, abilities, opportunities, or economic circumstances. I realized that for me, my future children, and everyone I would have the opportunity to influence, putting the Savior, my family, and the Church first was essential. Doing so would result in the good life.

One of the greatest lessons in devotion to the gospel came when George T. Benson received a mission call. “I was about thirteen years of age when father received a call to go on a mission. He went, leaving mother at home with seven children. The eighth was born four months after he arrived in the field, but never did we hear a murmur of complaint from Mother; she was so supportive of Father.

“The letters we received from Father were indeed a blessing. They seemed to us children to come halfway around the world, but they were only from across the country. There came into our home, as a result, a spirit of missionary work that has never left it.

“Father returned home and while we would sit each day milking the cows, he would sing over and over again, ‘Ye Elders of Israel,’ ‘Israel, Israel, God Is Calling,’ ‘Come All Ye Sons of God,’ ‘Ye Who Are Called to Labor,’ until I learned every word of several of these great missionary songs. Today I don’t need a songbook when we sing these great songs that Father sang to us morning and evening.”

Many lives have been blessed by the success of the Philippines Area’s “I Will Go, I Will Serve: 4600” initiative. Aside from the inspired vision of the Area Presidency, the support of the local priesthood leaders and the efforts of youth leaders, the miraculous success of the campaign was also boosted by the catchy theme song performed by Loredel “Daday” Ducena-Baluyot.
Composing the popular anthem with her husband Justin was a labor of love. After the first Area Presidency fireside premiered on Facebook on May 16, 2021, Daday and Justin felt the spirit and were inspired to write the song. After a few weeks, they presented the song to the Church area production team and offered its use to help sustain the momentum of the campaign. The song was reviewed and approved, and by July they were recording it with some help from Brio Divinagracia on the arrangement and background vocals. The song was officially launched during the follow-up Area Presidency fireside on November 21, 2021.
Aside from the 2021 youth theme song “A Great Work,” Daday’s “I Will Go, I Will Serve,” became popular after being part of youth, YSA, and FSY conferences all over the country. It was also listened to and sung along with the 2022 youth theme song “Trust in the Lord.” Recently, the couple rewrote the song as part of the November 20, 2022 Area Presidency fireside launching a heightened and more comprehensive “Come Unto Christ: I Will Go, I Will Serve” initiative.

That year we also learned that Brother Reynolds needed a new set of scriptures. His were old, dog-eared, and tearing at the seams. We pooled our money and bought him a beautiful leather quad with his name engraved on it. We gave it to him at our ward Christmas party. I’ll never forget the way his face glowed and his eyes twinkled with tears and excitement from seeing us boys do something that meant so much to him.

After Hsiao-lung was baptized, she shared the excitement she found in the gospel with her friend Chu Chih-t’ao.
“Everyone in the Church was so friendly to me,” Chih-t’ao, 17, now a member of the Second Ward, said. “But in the beginning my faith wasn’t strong. I read the scriptures when the missionaries taught me, and I prayed. I received an answer from God that the Church is true, so I decided to be baptized. But it was after I joined the Church that my testimony really grew, thanks to help from other members who showed their love and concern. Now I have a very strong faith.”

In 1958 a group of MIT students who decided to measure the distance across the Harvard Bridge that spans the Charles River between Boston and Cambridge, Massachusetts. Exactly how they came to the decision that this action was needed is not clear but I suspect a certain level of alcohol, perhaps a substantial level of alcohol, was part of the decision process. The choice of measurement was probably also influenced by alcohol. The measurement was not in feet, inches, meters, not in any standard unit of measure but in terms of the height of a fellow classmate. His name was Oliver R. Smoots and this is what the students decided to do with him in order to measure the length of the Harvard Bridge. Smoots was placed horizontally on the bridge and every time he was laid down the distance between the bottom of his feet and the top of his head was marked. The distance between his feet and head was labeled a "Smoots" . And on this particular night the Harvard Bridge was measured in Smoots. I believe that a "Smoot"  is roughly 5 feet 7 inches in length.

I first discovered this unique measurement when I was jogging over the bridge and saw the distinctive and rather odd markings. First, five stoops were marked then ten stoops until I reached the end of the bridge where I discovered the Harvard Bridge is 364.4 Smoots in length "Plus or minus one ear."  There is no indication about whose ear was used but I assume it was Mr. Smoots. This event is has been reenacted multiple times. The tradition is over 50 years old.

Does it matter how a bridge is measured, or for that matter, how we measure our lives and the direction of our lives? I believe it does. For example when I flew to Honolulu this weekend I traveled about 3100 miles between Salt Lake City, Utah and Honolulu, Hawaii. The pilot of the plane calculated the distance of the flight, the weight of the plane, and the expected temperature and head and tail winds the flight would face. He then calculated how much fuel he needed. When I am in the middle of the Pacific Ocean I want to make sure our pilot did his calculations correctly. But what if instead of measure in miles the pilot had measured the distance in Smoots? If the plane had started out from Salt Lake and been off target because Smoots are imprecise I might not be here today. I want my pilots to use the best and most accurate method to calculate the jet fuel need to fly to Hawaii from the mainland.

Now think about being off in how you measure your life by just a small amount. Perhaps you miss judge by only one "Smoot"  or some other inappropriate measure the results could even be more disastrous. In this case the trip, the trip of life, is not 3100 miles here the trip covers eternity. And the implication of missing something that has eternal implications is almost impossible to comprehend. We need to clarify what we use to measure and validate our lives. I hope as fun as it might sound to use Smoots to measure distance the process is simply too crude to be of any significant use.

I would like to share with you the experience of a friend of mine from the mission field that illustrates the power of scripture. Terry Barrett was sent to fight in Vietnam in 1966. He returned home in 1967 with a Purple Heart and a Bronze Star Medal for valor and heroism. To deaden the emotional pains associated with the atrocities of the war, Terry turned to alcohol and soon became addicted. Then, in 1998 he faced a major surgical procedure. Not being LDS, he was hesitant to receive a priesthood blessing from an LDS friend. Finally, however, Terry consented and received the blessing. Concerning that blessing, he says, “I felt a peace I had never felt before, and a voice said, ‘It will be all right, Terry.’”

As a result of the blessing, his hunger and thirst for alcohol was instantaneously and miraculously transformed into a hunger and thirst for the scriptures. He says, “To this day I cannot get enough of the scriptures and the Spirit.” He attends institute three days a week. Terry, his wife, and his daughter were baptized and have been to the temple. He is eternally grateful for the scriptures and the relationship that he now has with the Lord.

Family life is like a white-water rafting trip. As families don life jackets and helmets, parents are like the river guides who have passed through this way before. Children need us to warn them of strong currents or rocks ahead. If farther down the river there might be a devastating waterfall, would we warn our children about it? Would we instruct them how to row and where to steer to divert their route, or would we wait until after they’re dangling from the cliff to warn them?
As parents, we may be uncomfortable discussing a topic as unpleasant as suicide, but we can help protect and prepare our children before they have dangerous thoughts.
Parents can help children learn to become emotionally resilient and to know where they can turn when they need emotional help. Reyna I. Aburto, former Second Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency, taught that “this may include becoming informed about emotional illnesses, finding resources that can help address these struggles, and ultimately bringing ourselves and others to Christ, who is the Master Healer.”
Some suicides happen without any obvious warning. For some there are only subtle signs, or sometimes the signs are unmistakable. We can’t know for certain what our children are thinking, so we need to prepare them young—in case thoughts of suicide take hold in their minds.
Sister Aburto affirmed, “It is important to talk about these issues with our children, families, and friends in our homes, wards, and communities.”
Elder Dale G. Renlund of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has taught: “Every one of us has family members, dear friends, or acquaintances who have experienced suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide, or have taken their lives. … Many wards and stakes [and families] consider having a discussion about suicide prevention after someone has taken their own life. My question is—why wait? Why not do it now? Because someone in the ward or stake is having suicidal thoughts.”
I sat down with my own children several years ago after a tragedy occurred locally. I felt compelled to share with them that through Jesus Christ, there is always a way forward. There is nothing they could do, or fail to do, that would make suicide the answer. At their tender age, I had no reason to think they were at risk, but I knew there was more I could be doing to prepare my children for handling dangerous, potentially suicidal thoughts.
The Church’s resource guide for suicide prevention informs: “Talking about suicide will not make someone more likely to attempt suicide. In fact, talking openly about suicide is an effective way to help prevent suicide.”
According to John Ackerman, PhD, suicide prevention clinical manager at Nationwide Children’s Hospital, “Creating a safe space to talk about suicide can save a child’s life.” In fact, he adds, “if a child has been struggling with thoughts of suicide, knowing that a concerned adult is willing to have an open conversation is often a relief.”
“Talking about suicide in appropriate ways actually helps to prevent it rather than encourage it,” taught Sister Aburto. Her father died by suicide. For many years, she avoided talking about his death with her family. However, she has since learned the value in speaking about it honestly and plainly. “I have now openly discussed my father’s death with my children and witnessed the healing that the Savior can give on both sides of the veil.”
Open conversations about suicide can empower children to come to their parents and other trusted adults instead of trying to navigate suicidal thoughts on their own, should they ever arise.
Children as young as six or seven have reported suicidal thoughts. “It used to be that … therapists and researchers and parents didn’t believe that young kids under 10 or 11 even had thoughts of suicide,” Dr. Ackerman says. “We know that’s actually not true.” He indicates that even young children can connect suicidal ideation with feeling like a burden, being in emotional pain, or experiencing hopelessness.
Sister Aburto assured: “Knowing how to recognize signs and symptoms in ourselves and others can be helpful. We can also learn to detect inaccurate or unhealthy thinking patterns and how to replace them with more accurate and healthier ones.”
Globally, nearly one death by suicide occurs every 40 seconds, and it is the second leading cause of death in the world for people 15–24 years. In a recent study conducted among thousands of teens in Utah, USA, researchers from Brigham Young University discovered that approximately 12 percent of Latter-day Saint youth had seriously considered suicide, and 4 percent had made an attempt.
For context, in a group of 25 teens, 3 of those, statistically speaking, have seriously considered suicide, and one has made a suicide attempt.
If we can help our children find the support they need before they reach the point of crisis—when ideation turns into a plan—we may be able to help them divert course before it’s too late.
At a very young age, children can begin to comprehend feelings, but we can provide them with language to correctly describe their feelings. The first step may be helping a young child build his or her emotional vocabulary. We can teach children to understand the differences between mad, sad, frustrated, and so on. If the child can explain what he or she is feeling, we can work together from there. In an age-appropriate way, we can discuss their intense feelings with children as young as six and help them identify and address these feelings.
These early conversations will also help parents become familiar with their children’s typical range of emotions. Most children go through ups and downs in emotional well-being. This is normal. Having conversations early and often with young children can provide parents with an emotional thermometer to discern the differences between typical ups and downs of childhood and dangerous ideation.
Preventative conversations about suicide are like other preventative training parents provide. We can prepare children and youth for the possibility of experiencing suicidal ideation in the same way we might prepare them for how to drive a car and what to do in the event of an accident. “We want to prepare our kids to understand what can happen emotionally and what they might see in their friends,” says Dr. Ackerman.
As children age, the conversations we have with them will also mature. We can ask open-ended questions and then allow children to answer candidly. Encourage children to be honest with their difficult feelings. The research shows that addressing difficult emotions may reduce their intensity and duration.
Through open communication about depression, suicide, or feelings of discouragement, children learn that they can share their sincere thoughts and that they are emotionally safe with us. “They also get the unequivocal message that you care deeply about them, and their happiness and well-being matter to you,” says one mental health counselor.
Our love and support for our children can model the love Heavenly Father has for each of us. “Your Heavenly Father loves you—each of you,” taught President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018). “That love never changes. … It is there for you when you are sad or happy, discouraged or hopeful. God’s love is there for you whether or not you feel you deserve love. It is simply always there.”
Immediately after I discussed suicide with my own children, my nine-year-old son asked if he could speak to me privately. He told me about times he had imagined taking his own life, complete with how he would do it. I never could have dreamed he was having these thoughts. I hugged him, thanked him for his bravery in telling me, and told him that no matter what he ever did or ever thought, he was treasured and needed in our family. And I committed to myself to watch him for any further signs of suicidal ideation or mental illness.
Some youth may fear that suicide is their only way out of their hopelessness. President Jeffrey R. Holland, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, assures: “However many mistakes you feel you have made … , or however far from home and family and God you feel you have traveled, I testify that you have not traveled beyond the reach of divine love. It is not possible for you to sink lower than the infinite light of Christ’s Atonement shines.”
In addition to talking to our young children, we can talk to youth following the model given by President Holland: “To any of our youth out there who are struggling, whatever your concerns or difficulties, death by suicide is manifestly not the answer. It will not relieve the pain you are feeling or that you think you are causing. In a world that so desperately needs all the light it can get, please do not minimize the eternal light God put in your soul before this world was. … Do not destroy a life that Christ gave His life to preserve. You can bear the struggles of this mortal life because we will help you bear them. You are stronger than you think. Help is available, from others and especially from God. You are loved and valued and needed. We need you!”
You and your spouse can discuss when it’s a good time to start talking about it—well before the crisis, if any, comes. You can prayerfully seek the Spirit to help guide both the timing and the words of the conversations with your children.
We are never responsible for someone else’s choice to end a life, but there are things we can do to help prevent it. As President Holland taught:
“The Only Begotten Son of God came to give us life by conquering death.
“We must commit ourselves fully to that gift of life and run to the aid of those who are at risk of giving up this sacred gift.”

Before I became president of the Church, I was assigned as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles to visit some of the countries of South America for various gatherings with the Saints. We were received well by the countries, by their officials, and by the press.
I was interested in a comment made by a representative of one of the largest papers in Brazil. She had heard my sermon the day before, on Sunday, in which I had spoken rather strongly about the restoration of the gospel. She asked me why Christ was crucified.
I answered: “Because he said, ‘I am the Son of God.’”
And her next remark shocked me: “He should not have said it, should he? He really was not, was he?”
I thought she was joking. I looked into her eyes for a moment and thought she was going to smile. But she did not. And I said firmly: “He said he was the Son of God because he was the Son of God.”
Later I read an article in the Easter paper of one of the largest cities in South America. The author was a minister with letters after his name. I read the entire article and in the half a page given front page notice, he never mentioned the Lord of heaven and earth, the Redeemer, the Savior. He always spoke of “Jesus.” He quoted two or three scriptures which mentioned Jesus of Nazareth as being more than the carpenter’s son, but never in his writing did he ever give any other title to the Christ who shed his precious blood for him.
During the same trip, I asked 400 missionaries gathered in a meeting, “What think ye of Christ and the claims that are made?” And I heard 400 inspiring testimonies from youth—sure testimonies, ringing with conviction.
I am reminded of what Paul said: “And I, brethren, when I came to you, came not with excellency of speech or of wisdom, declaring unto you the testimony of God.
“For I determined not to know anything among you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified” (1 Cor. 2:1–2).
I could not see how we could really celebrate an Easter without discussing the Lord Jesus Christ. Why even the devils know that Jesus is the Christ. On one occasion the devils came crying out and saying, “Thou art Christ the Son of God. And he rebuking them suffered them not to speak: for they knew that he was Christ” (Luke 4:41). On another occasion “the evil spirit answered and said, Jesus I know, and Paul I know; but who are ye?” (Acts 19:15). And another time, “they cried out saying, What have we to do with thee, Jesus, thou Son of God? art thou come hither to torment us before the time?” (Matt. 8:29).
I believe that there was a considerable conviction in the heart of Pilate, who was constrained by his conscience to let the Savior go free, but because of political ambitions and other reasons, in spite of his wife’s importuning, he delivered him to be crucified. But even after that, he wrote on the cross in three languages—Hebrew, Greek, and Latin—this famous statement: “Jesus of Nazareth the King of the Jews.” The Jews, offended, came and said:
“Write not, The King of the Jews; but that he said, I am King of the Jews.
“Pilate answered, What I have written I have written” (see John 19:19–22).
You have read of Nathanael, the man without guile, who said, as he saw the Christ: “Rabbi, thou art the Son of God; thou art the King of Israel” (John 1:49).
Paul had hardly made his transformation, had just barely received back his sight from his unusual experience when he went straightway into the synagogues and preached Christ, “that he is the Son of God.”
Why will the divines of the day purposely avoid the names of the Deity whom they would choose to call only Jesus? There are tens of thousands of Jesuses in the world. In all the Spanish-speaking countries you find them on every hand. They pronounce it Ha-sús, but it is Jesus. But there was only one Jesus who became the Prince of Light, the Author of our salvation.
Joseph Smith said: “I had actually seen a light, and in the midst of that light I saw two Personages, and they did in reality speak to me; and though I was hated and persecuted for saying that I had seen a vision, yet it was true; and while they were persecuting me, reviling me, and speaking all manner of evil against me falsely for so saying, I was led to say in my heart: Why persecute me for telling the truth? I have actually seen a vision; and who am I that I can withstand God, or why does the world think to make me deny what I have actually seen? For I had seen a vision; I knew it, and I knew that God knew it, and I could not deny it, neither dared I do it; at least I knew that by so doing I would offend God, and come under condemnation” (JS—H 1:25).
You remember what Peter said when the disciples were asked, “Whom do men say that I the Son of man am?” They spoke up and said men thought him to be Elias or one of the other prophets, and then the Lord said again, and I can imagine his piercing eyes, wondering and expectant eyes, “But whom say ye that I am?” And the answer was one of the most stirring and glorious of all statements made, “Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.” And the next statement must never be overlooked: “Flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven” (see Matt. 16:13–17). In other words, man has not told you this, but my Father has revealed it unto thee; a great revelation has come unto thee, and thou knowest it.
I asked 400 missionaries the Lord’s question which faces every man, woman, and child on this earth: “Whom do ye say that I the Son of man am?” And I was gratified at the hundreds of replies saying “Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.”
And that is my testimony to you, that Jesus is indeed the Christ, the living Son of the living God.

In October 1980 I was riding my bicycle when I suddenly realized my foot brake was not working. I panicked, not knowing when or how I would be able to stop. When my wild ride ended and I finally coasted safely to a stop, I ended up next to Rodico Flores, a good friend and high school classmate. I explained what had happened, and then we chatted for a little while. During our conversation, he asked if I had time to come to his church. Since I knew he was a good person and I admired the other Latter-day Saints I knew, I decided to go the next Sunday.
On Sunday I noticed that the building his church met in was clean and beautiful. I felt something different there. I was met by a person who shook my hand and even put his arm around me, telling me he was happy to see me. I felt good, even though I was a bit shy and nervous. This brother took me to a class for investigators.
After the lesson two young women introduced themselves as full-time missionaries. They asked if they could visit me at my home. I quickly told them I was busy and started giving them excuses. But they still asked me to tell them when I was available, and I responded that I was available early Monday morning. I said they could come but only if they wanted to come at 4:00 A.M.
To my surprise, they looked at each other and said, “Brother Solomon, we will be there.” Then I insisted that it was hard to reach my family’s house, that it was located in the middle of a fishpond, that we had a lot of dogs. I told them they would have a hard time getting there. But they said again, “Brother Solomon, we will be there.” After I left, I forgot all about our appointment because I didn’t believe they would be coming.
Early Monday morning I was surprised to hear the dogs barking and a voice calling, “Brother Solomon! Brother Solomon!” I looked out the window, and I started to feel differently about the missionaries. I felt a confirmation that they were true servants of God. I invited them in and listened to their message. After a while I told them to come every day with a lesson, which they did. They taught me until I was prepared for baptism.
Just after my baptism on 31 October 1980, a friend invited me to a ward party. I said to myself, This Church is nice; they even throw a party for me. I later realized I wasn’t really the guest of honor. But at the party my friend introduced me to a young woman and told her to take good care of me. Annie Ortiz was indeed a good fellowshipper. At this time, she is still taking good care of me. We were married in 1985 and sealed in the Manila Philippines Temple.
Since my baptism, I have grown in the gospel as I have been given opportunities to serve. In 1983 I was called to serve full time in the Philippines Davao Mission, and four months after my marriage I was called as a bishop. I also served as a stake president and in a mission presidency. My wife and I are happily married and have two children, Ezra and Brigham, and we are looking forward to a lifetime of service.
I am grateful for the happiness I have found in the Church, for the dedicated missionaries who persevered, and for the broken bicycle brake that actually helped send me on my way.

At the age of 16, I was invited to work on a ranch in the United States, with the possibility to one day build my own home there. That appealed to me, since my homeland, the Netherlands, is just a small country, crowded with inhabitants.
In fact, my ancestors on my father’s side all felt a similar desire to live in another place. They moved to Indonesia, which used to be a Dutch colony. I could totally understand why. In Indonesia, the weather is nice, the landscapes are beautiful, and space is abundant. My genes contained the same wanderlust that inspired my ancestors. Should I also leave my native land in search of success and adventure?
During that decision-making time, my dad handed me a copy of a letter written to him and his sisters many years before by their mission president, Donovan van Dam. President van Dam asked them to stay in the Netherlands and build the Church there. My dad told me that he had decided to do exactly that. And since the Boom family name was on the letter, it was now my turn to find out what to do.
In the years after World War II, many Church members had emigrated to America and Canada. That was still going on in the 1970s, despite encouragement from Church leaders for members to stay in their own countries and strengthen the Church where they lived. Prayerfully, I also made the decision to stay and build the Church in the Netherlands, not fully understanding what that would mean in the future.
When I finished high school in the late 1970s, the Dutch economy was in turmoil. Unemployment rates were high. All in all, things looked pretty dismal. It was difficult for graduates to decide what to do next.
My father was serving as branch president. Now and then he discussed with me the possibility of serving a full-time mission. Of course, that would be a wonderful thing to do. I had been looking forward to that my whole life.
But I didn’t see how serving a mission could help me provide for my future family. Since childhood I had always had a great desire to one day find the love of my life and to build our family together.
I was 17 at the time, and not knowing what to do next, I started my next level of education. But after several weeks I found that this field of study was not going to make me happy. I had questions about whether it would even provide me with a stable job. I thought about quitting school.
My parents were not happy about this. They told me I could only quit school if I had a job. They probably thought that I would never find one because of the financial crisis. I spent all afternoon on my bicycle, going from one business to the next. Finally a company hired me to work in their warehouse.
Even though I took this temporary position, I had a plan. I was going to be a policeman. Working for the government would be a stable way to provide for my future family and everything would work out.
I remember the day that I went to take the exams to get into the police school. I took the train early in the morning and spent all day doing all kinds of tests. At the end of the day I was called into the office. They told me I passed all the exams and they would love to have me, but because I was 17, I was too young. They told me to try again in a year.
My world was shattered, and all the way home I was thinking, “What next?” At home my dad listened to my frustration and offered to give me a blessing. I expected that the Lord was going to tell me that everything would work out and I would be admitted to the police academy in a miraculous way. Instead the Lord told me that if I would choose to put Him first, I would always have bread on my table and the means to take care of my future family.
In response to my prayers, I received the answer that, for me, putting the Lord first meant serving a full-time mission. I had always intended to do that but had not seen how one step would lead to another. Now I knew that serving a mission was what I was going to do, and I wanted to do it as soon as possible.
Back then, the cost for a mission was 10,000 guilders in old Dutch currency, or about a year’s wages. I carried on working in the warehouse and by the summer of 1981, I had my 10,000 guilders. I had also turned 18. My father, the branch president, told me I was too young for a mission, as did the district president and mission president. At that time, you needed to be 19. But on my 18th birthday I went to the doctor and the dentist all by myself and had them fill in their parts of my missionary application.
Somehow, I managed to get my leaders to interview me and submit my application. Then we waited. I didn’t know that my father, as branch president, had received a letter. The application was returned to him with the notification that I was too young. But he hadn’t wanted to share that with me yet, so he carried it around in his suit pocket for weeks without letting me know. Fortunately, in the meantime he had received another notification. It said that in some situations the Brethren were willing to let young men go earlier when they were well prepared. Soon I was called to serve and was assigned to the England London East Mission. My mission became the blessing of a lifetime.
Three months after I returned from my mission, I did meet the love of my life. A year later we were married and sealed in the London England Temple. The economy was still not in good shape, but I have always been able to have a job and provide for my family. There has always been bread on the table and a roof over our head.
As a missionary, this became one of my favorite scriptures: “Inasmuch as ye shall keep the commandments of God ye shall prosper in the land” (Alma 36:1). With that as a guide, I decided to do what my father had done—to stay in the Netherlands and build the Church in my native land.
Elder and Sister Boom’s family in 2019. Since that time, another granddaughter has been born.
Today the tiny branch where I grew up is now a wonderful ward where our grandchildren enjoy the company of many friends, gathered in a large Primary. Our sons have good professions and are blessed with bread on the table. I see that my decisions have had an impact on the next generation, who also desire to put the Lord first in their lives.
I am grateful that I learned early in my life that the right decision is to overcome the cares of the world and put Heavenly Father first. He has given me blessings that otherwise I never would have known.

Two young women in this seminary class, both 16, are named Brigitta. “From my classmate, Seres Brigitta, I heard about the Church for the first time,” says Bozó Brigitta.
“I began attending sacrament meeting and made a lot of friends here. So when youth conference came, I naturally thought I needed to go. At the conference, I felt for the first time that I needed to belong to this Church. I was baptized a week later.” Two months after Brigitta’s own baptism, her mother and her 15-year-old brother, László, were baptized. (Her father had died six years earlier.) “Now the three of us—our whole family—are members of the Church. It is wonderful!”
“At first I thought just my friend would be baptized,” says her classmate Seres Brigitta. “I was amazed that her family also joined the Church.”

During my first two years of teaching seminary in Nevada, I assigned two students in each class to be what we called “seminary phantoms.” They were to do nice things throughout the year for their fellow students, without anyone knowing.
Most of the students in my early-morning class were from the same two wards, except for one freshman. His name was Clark, and every day he sat by himself near the front of the room. About three months into the year, I had the class grouped into teams. I asked one boy to let Clark be on his team, and he asked, “Who’s Clark?” It was then that I realized how few people knew Clark.
A few weeks later, as the Christmas season drew near, we geared up to do our annual seminary Christmas activity called “secret Santas.” Students who wanted to participate signed up to do nice things, anonymously, for another student during the week before Christmas break. As the sign-up list went around, nearly everyone signed up. Everyone except Clark.
After class, I pulled aside my two seminary phantoms and asked if they would do a favor for someone in the class. They both willingly agreed. I explained about Clark and asked if they would mind doing just one nice thing for him from his secret Santa.
The following Monday, Clark’s book slot was decorated with ribbons and candy. Tuesday, there were small gifts. As the class came in both days, they crowded around him to see what he had received. Again on Wednesday, there was a small surprise left for him on my desk. When Thursday came, he found a gingerbread house on his desk. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
The next morning was Friday, the last day before Christmas vacation. Clark came into class with a present of his own. It was a huge gingerbread house that must have taken him and his mother all evening to make. He asked if I would please give it to his secret Santa. When class was over, Clark was slow in leaving, hoping to find out who I would give his gift to. But I convinced him that his Santa wanted to remain a secret. As he walked down the street, a car which a few minutes earlier had appeared to drive off, turned into the parking lot again, and two girls got an early Christmas present.
Seminary became Clark’s favorite class. Throughout the remaining three years, he had some wonderful friends in seminary. I can’t help but think that it was partially the result of those two seminary phantoms. The year that he graduated from high school and seminary, I was transferred to another state.
The following summer, my family and I came back to visit. Late one evening, at the home where we were staying, we heard a car drive by. The horn honked and someone yelled, “We love you, Brother Fowler!” In the morning, I found my car “decorated” with toilet paper. Inside was a note with a copy of a mission call attached to it. It was from Clark. It read, “Seminary was the inspiration for the day and for my life. Thanks!”