Gospel Story Finder

Wouldn’t it be nice if it were possible to ask President Uchtdorf’s mother if she had any inkling that her youngest son might be called one day to serve in the First Presidency of the Church? What did she sense as she nurtured her young son, enabled his freedom, and saved his life? On one occasion she and the children were in a public auditorium. She was impressed to leave the building immediately. Because of that urgent feeling, she availed herself of a wheeled cart, placed young Dieter in it, and scurried away with her children as quickly as possible. Shortly thereafter, the building was destroyed by an act of war. Most occupants of the auditorium were killed. Sister Uchtdorf and her children were spared.

President David O. McKay told about the grief suffered in a family due to the loss of a precious, priceless son. His death had occurred as the result of a tragic accident, and the parents were inconsolable. The mother was particularly troubled and went about her round of duties relentlessly trying to block out her intense sorrow.

One day the mother was at home, quietly going about her work, and her thoughts turned toward the son they mourned so much. And then something very unusual happened. This son came to her briefly. He explained that he had tried to visit his father, but his father’s life was too busy, and he hadn’t been able to get through to him. He wanted his parents to know that he was fine and that there was no need to worry about him (see Gospel Ideals [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1953], pp. 525–26).

This spiritual experience was a great source of comfort to the mother, and to the father when she recounted it to him. But the father learned a great lesson. Sometimes we need to be still for a moment. We need to slow down and be less frenetic. Psalm 46:10 teaches us, “Be still, and know that I am God.”

I remember some years ago getting a letter from a young woman who was awaiting the return of her missionary fiancé in order that they could be married. She outlined in her letter all the things she was doing to prepare herself worthily for that glorious experience. She went to the temple for her endowments before he returned from his mission, and she had the privilege of witnessing some sealings of children to their parents. What a beautiful thing she said it was. She had a great desire that her marriage would be in one of the sacred temples of our God.

Leaders of the Church have counseled us to cultivate a garden at our homes. Recently, members from the Mountain View Ward in Nairobi, Kenya heeded that counsel, and following their bishop’s assignment and worked hard to create a ward shamba (the word ‘shamba’ means ‘garden’ in Swahili). Ward members joined hands and applied their knowledge in transforming the thickets and shrubs into a bountiful harvest.
Finally, the day came when the rewards were quite visible and abundant. The Mountain View Ward members’ hard work proved itself. There was an abundance of food, ranging from bananas to mboga to beans and they are about to harvest the maize. It was clear that the members’ aim wasn’t for instant gratification. They understood that in all harvests, some blessings don’t come until later, so they chose to be patient with the sweet potatoes and cassava.

May I share with you some of the defining moments of my life to introduce my subject today? A question that students often ask us is: Where did you meet your wife? Well, I met my dear wife Kay in Mrs. Munk’s first grade class, Plymouth Elementary, in Taylorsville, Utah, over 60 years ago. I was making a sand castle in the back of the room during recess when she and her friend Sheri came up and knock it over. I got mad and I threw sand in their eyes and their face and their hair. And I got to meet her - and I got to meet her mother, and I got to meet the principal, and I got to stand in the corner while she went home and cleaned up. But when she came back and saw me still standing there (awfully embarrassed I might add), she went up and asked Mrs. Munk if I could please sit down, that she was all right now. And so I got to return to my seat. Whew, I knew she was the girl for me. She’s been keeping me out of trouble ever since.

Some young men in one of the dorms shared how they worked together to solve a problem. They had been having some friction in their group. Although no one had been blatantly unkind, a competitive feeling was pushing these friends apart and making them dwell on their inadequacies. So one night the young men decided to take some positive steps. They determined to have family prayer in their apartment each morning and read a few verses in the scriptures together. They set goals to sincerely encourage and support each other. Simple though this remedy may sound, it made all the difference. One kind word led to another. One thoughtful act invited another in return. It did not take long before the situation had turned around and their apartment became a warm and inviting place again. These young men were willing to ask, “What am I going to do about this?” And the Lord blessed them with a solution to their problem.

Because of COVID-19, I started third grade by learning online. After about a month of learning online, I was able to go back to school. I was happy to be around other kids again! But it was hard to make friends. I spent several recesses alone.
One day my teacher announced that there would be two new students in our class. I was so excited! The day the two new boys arrived, I helped them get their supplies ready. I remembered my first weeks of school and how hard it was to make friends. I wanted to try to make their day feel special. I knew that’s what Jesus would do. Then a thought popped into my head: I had two coupons for lunch with a friend and the teacher. I could ask the two boys to come with me.
When it was lunchtime, I invited them to lunch. They said that they would love to go! We grabbed our lunches and walked down the hallway to our classroom. It felt good to include them and make them feel welcome.

Mom pushed the grocery cart up and down the aisles of the bishops’ storehouse while Mackenzie looked for her favorite cereal. All she could find were the boring kinds, like corn flakes and oatmeal. Where was the Sir Crunch-a-Lot? She sighed and pulled a bag of granola off the shelf and put it in the cart.
Mom said the bishops’ storehouse was the Church’s store, and it helped people like them who didn’t have a lot of money. Mackenzie didn’t understand. She knew Dad lost his job, but why did that mean she had to eat boring food?
Mackenzie followed her mom to the front of the store. Mom gave a slip of paper to the woman at the counter. Mom and the woman talked for a moment, and then Mom rolled their cart out to the car.
“Mom, why did you give her that paper instead of money?” Mackenzie asked.
Mom smiled. “You know we came here because we don’t have a lot of money right now, right?”
Mackenzie nodded and started putting groceries in the car.
“Well, when people at church pay their fast offerings every month, that money helps people who are having a tough time.”
“Like us,” Mackenzie said.
“Right,” said Mom. “Some of that money buys food for people who need it. Your dad and I visited with the bishop, and he told us we can shop here for a few months until Dad gets a job. That paper was a list of the things we need.”
Mackenzie raised her eyebrows. “So other people are paying for this food? That’s really nice of them. But why don’t they have better cereals?”
Mom laughed as they finished putting the groceries in the car. “Well, they might not have some of the things you love, but it’s good food. I’m really grateful for it because it means we won’t be hungry.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Mackenzie said. But she couldn’t help thinking of a big bowl of Sir Crunch-a-Lot.
The next day at school, Mackenzie stared at the ham sandwich and apple in her lunch bag. She frowned. Most of her friends were eating pizza from the cafeteria, and it smelled delicious!Then Sarah, her friend from church, sat down next to her. Mackenzie noticed that she didn’t have any lunch.
“Why aren’t you eating?” Mackenzie asked.
“My family is fasting for my uncle,” Sarah said. “He doesn’t have a job right now, so we’re praying for him.”
Mackenzie’s jaw dropped. “But it’s not even Fast Sunday!”
“Yeah, it’s pretty hard being hungry at school,” Sarah said. “But I wanted to fast with my family.”
Mackenzie remembered how Mom said fast offerings helped pay for their groceries. She thought of all the kind people who fasted on Fast Sunday and gave money to help her family have enough to eat.
Suddenly pizza didn’t seem so important, and neither did Sir Crunch-a-Lot. She said a silent prayer to thank Heavenly Father. Then she took a big bite of her sandwich. Gratitude made everything taste better.

Each April the PGA Tour hosts a tournament in Hilton Head, South Carolina—where I served as a missionary. During my time there, we invited Mike Reid, a past BYU player and a PGA Tour player, to speak at a fireside for several individuals we were teaching. He shared his conversion story, spoke about his experiences on the PGA Tour, and answered questions about professional golf. At the conclusion of the evening, one of the gentlemen whom we had been teaching, and who had been investigating the Church for quite some time, turned to me and said, “If these are the kind of people who are members of the Church, then I want to be a part of it.” His sincere response was a powerful reminder of the influence the Spirit can have on others.

President George Albert Smith, the eighth President of the Church, was born on 4 April 1870 in Salt Lake City. When he was 13, he attended Brigham Young Academy. He later said:
“Dr. [Karl G.] Maeser one day stood up and said:
“‘Not only will you be held accountable for the things that you do, but you will be held responsible for the very thoughts that you think.’
“Being a boy, not in the habit of controlling my thoughts very much, it was quite a puzzle to me what I was to do, and it worried me.”
A week or two after this, young George Albert Smith came to a realization: “Why, of course, you will be held accountable for your thoughts because when your life is complete in mortality, it will be the sum of your thoughts. That one suggestion has been a great blessing to me all my life, and it has enabled me upon many occasions to avoid thinking improperly because I realize that I will be, when my life’s labor is complete, the product of my thoughts” (“Pres. Smith’s Leadership Address,” Church News, 16 Feb. 1946, 1).

We planted a garden, weeded it, and irrigated it. Some of my choicest childhood experiences were irrigating with my father. Our turn began at 2:00 A.M., so Dad and I would pitch a tent in the yard and go to bed about 9:00 at night. We’d set the alarm clock and get up at 2:00 and turn the water in. Then we’d get up every half hour until 6:00 to change its flow. During all my growing-up years, Dad and I spent many nights irrigating side by side. It’s a great experience to be with your father like that.

My experience with temptation as an exchange student came from the outside, from persistent friends. It was an external challenge to the things I believed, and I was able to stand firm. But as additional experiences came to me, I learned that we are going to be tested from all sides. Some of the most difficult challenges are internal ones, when the temptations that have to be resisted take place in the quiet of our own hearts and minds.
One of these challenges came when I chose to pay an honest tithe when I was away from home. Every year my dad would take us to tithing settlement. He would help us calculate our tithing, and we would pay it. All during the time I was growing up, I developed this habit of paying tithing. If you had asked me at the time, I would have told you that I had a testimony of tithing.
When I finished high school, I had been admitted to Harvard University, so I worked that summer and earned money to pay for the expenses that weren’t covered by my scholarship. By the end of the first semester, I had foolishly spent all the money that I had earned to get me through the whole year.
At the start of the second semester, I got a job. I couldn’t work very much because I was a full-time student, but I worked a few hours a week and received my first paycheck. Of course, it wasn’t very much, but it was all I had to get by until the next paycheck.
Then the question arose in my mind, “What about tithing?” I had been in the habit of paying my tithing but had always had sufficient money to pay the tithing. Here I was faced with the challenge: do I pay my tithing when I don’t know if I’ve got enough money to get through the next two weeks?
As I thought about it, I remembered the scripture in Malachi 3:10, where the Lord promises, “Prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.”
So I realized that was my answer. I would leave it up to the Lord. I paid my tithing, not sure if I had enough money to carry me until the next paycheck. And a miracle happened. I made it through that two weeks.
It came to me so powerfully that the Lord keeps His word. The Lord came through the way He promised. Just as the scriptures say, if we pay our tithing, He will bless us. That same miracle happened every two weeks throughout the rest of the semester. Before, I had thought I had a testimony of tithing, but now, because of my correct decision, I had a powerful testimony of tithing. The Lord always does what He says, so my testimony continued to grow step-by-step.

“As a young man in high school I was told that I would be better advised to be a plumber than an artist. I didn’t follow that advice, and with a lot of effort and some good teachers, I achieved my goal. My recently completed doctoral dissertation was concerned with the psychological process of learning to create art. I now work as an artist-teacher.”

Dr. Grant L. LundAssistant Professor of ArtSoutheast Missouri State University

It may have happened several months ago, but being part of the Masskara opening number for the cultural show we staged during the welcome dinner for the Tabernacle Choir in February and during the area broadcast with Elder and Sister Stevenson in May still inspires me.
Looking back, I had to sacrifice my weekends to attend the practices. There were times when I felt so tired, especially since I had to juggle family, a ton of school work, and practices while also waking up early, traveling, dealing with sore muscles, and more.
Despite this, I knew that I was doing it for the Lord and that all of my efforts would be worth it. I felt the Lord’s hand every step of the way. On top of that, I got to know so many people, built unexpected friendships, and had so much fun!
We were only given less than two months to practice compared to previous cultural presentations which had several months of preparation, so I was amazed that we were able to learn the steps quickly. I was also inspired by the hard work of those around me, especially the trainers and those who arranged the show.
They were sacrificing so much of their time and effort (to the point that some even sacrificed their sleep), and they were so patient with us. They cared for each one of us. I felt this the most when our trainers gave each of us awards that were well thought out and personalized, which deeply touched my heart. Our trainers also pushed for us to bond with one another, and I think this bond we have with our fellow dancers would not exist without them.
On the day of the performance, we all gave our best. When I saw how the Tabernacle Choir members enjoyed our performances so much, and how they were moved to tears, it made me feel that all of the efforts and sacrifices we made were worth it. I was also surprised and moved to tears when they sang a song for us. It was such a memorable experience for me. That moment felt like we were Zion—of one heart and of one mind, all worshipping the Lord, all united by music. Nothing can replace the sacredness and joy that I felt that night.
Three months later, we performed our Masskara dance again, this time with Elder and Sister Stevenson, the Area Presidency and their wives, and the entire country as the show and the devotional were broadcast live! We experienced the same high, this time brought about by the inspiring words of Elder and Sister Stevenson. They counseled us to P.R.O. every day: Pray over and over, Read time after time, and Obey again and again.
My Masskara co-dancers and I have been trying to apply the things we learned during our rehearsal period and our recent performances, and today I am happy to note that among the Masskara dancers, three are already serving their missions, and two have received their call.
Those who are serving include Sister Alcantara, a service missionary serving in the Quezon City North Mission, and Sister Russel Bañaga and Sister Krizzia Arpellida, both serving in the Philippines, Urdaneta Mission (they entered the MTC on July 19, 2024). Meanwhile, Brother James Ejercito’s mission in Seoul, South Korea started on September 27, 2024, and Sister Maren Rivera will serve in the Philippines Baguio Mission on November 1, 2024.
Sister Alcantara and Sister Bañaga were part of the previous generation of Masskara dancers who volunteered to train and teach the current batch of Masskara dancers. They showed patience and charity as they developed close relationships with the youth and taught those who had difficulty with the steps. Their example not just as dancers but as servants of the Lord is such a blessing to all of us.
Sister Arpellida, Brother James, and Sister Maren were all part of the current generation of Masskara dancers. The three of them developed a close friendship during the practices, and shared their progress along the covenant path, encouraging and inspiring each other. They showed resilience and perseverance despite having sore bodies as they continued to practice every Saturday from 8:00 am to 5:00 pm.
I can’t remember how many generations of Masskara dancers there have been since it started 14 years ago when they performed it during the Church Jubilee celebration at the Araneta Coliseum. As a primary child back then, I was amazed by the colorful and energetic number. I was also inspired by the many dancers and trainers who have served missions through the years. The legacy continues, and I hope more of the dancers from my generation will go and serve.
These missionaries and soon-to-be missionaries inspire all of us fellow dancers. They sacrificed their time and talents to the Lord to serve him through performing for the Tabernacle Choir and Elder and Sister Stevenson, now they are sacrificing their time and talents to invite others to come unto Christ and help them receive the gospel of Jesus Christ.

I was first exposed to pornography when I was eight. I had no idea it was bad because no one had talked to me about it before. But when I was seventeen and started learning about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I realized that this habit I had indulged in for years did not align with the commandments or gospel standards. I determined to quit my habit as I further investigated the Church and then eventually became a member.
At first I thought it would be easy to quit seeking out pornography. I would go a couple days without it with no problem. But then stressors would hit, and I would slip back into my habit. This happened a lot. I felt so much shame, afraid people would think I was a dark, horrible person. So I hid it from everyone.
But I started to feel promptings to reach out for help. On my own I could only muster the willpower to go a small amount of time without pornography.
When I was finally honest with my bishop and my best friend, they were compassionate and helped me to abstain. I left to serve a mission, and with the help of my mission president, I didn’t have any problems in the mission field.
But a week after I returned home, the COVID pandemic began. Alone, anxious, and depressed, I returned to my old habit. I was struggling almost every day, but I had learned to be open about it and sought help from loved ones again.
I started attending Brigham Young University. I knew I needed to get my problem under control, but even while I tried my best, I would slip up when I was alone and stressed. Every time I tried and failed, I felt like I was back to square one. I read my scriptures, prayed constantly, and did all I could to connect with Christ, but I was losing hope. Pornography was hindering my progression in life in many ways, especially spiritually.
And then I discovered a BYU club where students who were struggling with pornography could meet and support each other. The people I connected with were so loving and supportive. Right from the beginning, they helped revive my hope for a life free from pornography.
Faith, hope, and a daily accountability group helped me begin to abstain from pornography for longer amounts of time. A week would pass without pornography, then two weeks, then a month. I was achieving previously unreachable lengths of time. It was a miracle. I learned that to make progress, I needed to have small goals instead of an all-or-nothing outlook.
I fully recognize that my journey to overcome pornography is not over. Pornography is complicated and often stems from unmet needs or other underlying issues that need to be resolved. Statistically speaking, I could slip up again, but my mindset has changed.
I am striving. I am striving every day to turn to temporal and spiritual resources and to Jesus Christ to help me become better. My flicker of hope grows each time I choose to turn away from pornography; the feeling is amazing.
I used to think I was a horrible person for having this problem, but Brother Bradley R. Wilcox, Second Counselor in the Young Men General Presidency, shared some words that give me hope: “Some mistakenly receive the message that they are not worthy to participate fully in the gospel because they are not completely free of bad habits. God’s message is that worthiness is not flawlessness. Worthiness is being honest and trying. We must be honest with God, priesthood leaders, and others who love us, and we must strive to keep God’s commandments and never give up just because we slip up.”1
Like the boy in his talk who struggled with pornography, I strive for “small, reachable goals” and “incremental growth,” instead of “all-or-nothing expectations.”2
I have come far in overcoming pornography because of the help I have received from loving Church leaders and friends. But what also helped me was holy habits. When I was struggling the most, I often felt unworthy to participate in spiritual practices—I falsely believed Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ were ashamed of me. But I learned that They always lovingly invite me to turn to Them through the scriptures, prayer, and temple worship to access Their healing power, especially during my darkest moments.
I have no doubt that as I continue to strive, I will one day be able to return to my Father in Heaven knowing I did my best. And I will weep at the feet of my Savior, Jesus Christ, for making it possible. I am beyond grateful for the gift of His Atonement and for all the chances He gives me as I keep trying.

Sister Paula Thomas of Sandy, Utah, discovered for herself that Heavenly Father does indeed speak to His children. She remembers:
“I was raised in a less-active home. Because of the influence of friends, I began attending Primary. When I was nine years old, my Primary teacher gave a lesson on personal prayer. I knew that I could pray at mealtimes and in meetings, but I had never thought of praying to Heavenly Father on my own.
“After the teacher dismissed our class, I approached her and asked her to teach me to pray. Kindly, she pulled out a piece of paper and began to write and talk at the same time. ‘You always begin by thanking Heavenly Father for all you have,’ she said, ‘and then you tell Him the desires of your heart. Is there something special you want to ask for, Paula?’
“I knew exactly what I wanted—I wanted to make my mother happy. I did not recall ever seeing her smile or laugh. Life was hard, and Mother cried often. I loved her so much that I would write poems, put on programs for her on Mother’s Day, and buy her gifts with my baby-sitting money. She was always grateful, but I knew her burdens were heavy.
“I left Primary that afternoon with those written instructions from my teacher. That night, when the house was quiet, I knelt at my bed and began my very first personal prayer. I prayed that I would be able to make my mother happy. I offered the same prayer every night for seven years.
“When I was 16, I received my patriarchal blessing from a patriarch whom I had never met. In my blessing he said: ‘Paula, the Lord has heard the prayers of your heart. A time will come in your life when you will be able to return with a deep feeling of love the gifts that have been so graciously given unto you by your mother. You will not only bring your mother happiness, you will give her the gift of joy.’
“As he was giving me the blessing, I received a powerful witness of God’s desire to communicate with us through personal revelation. Heavenly Father had heard my prayers, and He let me know he was aware of me.
“Years later, after my mother’s death, I went through the temple to receive sacred ordinances in her behalf. While there, I received an impression that I had truly given my mother the gift of joy—that day and on many other occasions.”

The hollow feeling in my stomach slowly spread through my chest, and my throat tightened until I could no longer speak. The early winter drizzle even made the sky seem to weep as Amanda crept toward the car, her steps painful and faltering.
“I’ll get that,” I blurted, my mind jolted from numbness by her fumbling with the door handle. I opened the car door and watched in embarrassed silence as she maneuvered her body into the car. I shut the door after making sure her brace was completely inside. She looked at me through the rain-spattered window. “Thanks, Sara,” she mouthed. I nodded my reply and got in the other side.
My thoughts drifted back to another day. Summer sunlight had washed over the neighborhood that morning, soaking its warmth into our shoulders and the tops of our heads as Amanda and I rode our horses to the shopping center by our apartment. Well, they weren’t real horses. At least, they weren’t alive and you couldn’t see them. But they were real to us, and we rode them everywhere, always careful to tie them up before going inside. If we rode in a car, we tied them to the bumper and they followed behind. We even named them after our favorite ice-cream dishes at Gabby’s Ice-Cream Parlor: Starlight and Anastasia.
Amanda’s dad had picked us up later that afternoon in his car and dropped me off at home. It was the next morning before I learned that they had been in an accident and that Amanda had been severely burned.
The car jostled as it turned into the parking lot of Gabby’s Ice-Cream Parlor, bringing me back to the present. I had promised Amanda while she was still in the hospital that we would go to Gabby’s to celebrate her recovery. Now I wondered if I’d made the right decision.
Mom let us out in front of the plate-glass window that framed a row of booths. Amanda emerged from the car slowly. There were still some bandages on her arms, and one leg was encased in a metal brace. The spattering of freckles I had been jealous of was gone. In its place was whitish skin that stretched and pulled, as if there wasn’t enough to cover her face.
Heads turned and peered around the huge yellow and blue letters painted on the window. One little girl pointed at us. Her mouth moved in silent conversation. The woman beside her looked embarrassed and moved her away from the window. I squared my shoulders and returned their stares for Amanda’s sake. Defiance turned to surprise as I saw that their sad-eyed looks were directed at me too. I walked a few steps ahead of Amanda, my arms and legs swinging in exaggerated rhythm. Can’t you see there’s nothing wrong with me, I thought, my surprise turning to anger.
Finally we were inside and seated at a table. I studied the menu intently, as if it were directions to unearthing a million dollars in gold. I just about had everything memorized by the time our waitress got there. “I’ll have the Starlight Sundae,” I said, without looking up.
“I’ll have the Anastasia,” Amanda said quietly.
The waitress collected the menus. I counted the flowers in the pink flocked wallpaper and traced the marbled pattern in the tabletop with my finger until the sundaes arrived.
I usually lingered over every bite, enjoying the contrast of the smooth mint ice cream against the sharp bits of chocolate on my tongue. But today I only wanted to finish as quickly as possible. As soon as Amanda had taken her last bite, I wadded up my paper napkin and tossed it on the table.
“We’d better go,” I announced and added lamely, “I’m sure Mom’s outside by now.” Amanda offered no resistance.
I walked ahead to get the door. Amanda shuffled through, but instead of turning to the left, where Mom was waiting, she turned to the right and raised her burned hand slightly. I heard the familiar soft clicking noise that we used to call our horses.
“Come on, Anastasia,” she said softly. “Let’s go, girl”—her whisper was punctuated by a great, deep sob—“far away from here.” Her shoulders shook; her breath came in gasps. Tears dropped from her nose and chin onto the scarred hands she clasped tightly in front of her.
The hollow feeling in my stomach returned, and my throat tightened again. I felt helpless. I wanted to make people stop staring. I wanted to smooth her lumpy skin and give her back her freckles. I wanted to go back and change what happened that summer day and erase her pain.
I looked long into Amanda’s eyes for the first time since her accident. They shared the pain her physical body had endured. But there was more. Behind the pain were the eyes of the friend I had always known. Burned and scarred skin may have changed the outside, but Amanda would always be Amanda on the inside.
I put my arm around her shoulder. The rain had stopped. Despite the chilly air, the sunshine warmed the tops of our heads and our shoulders as we walked side by side to the car, oblivious to anyone else. Things would be different—and yet the same. I held on to Amanda’s hands and gently helped her onto the car seat. Then I picked up her leg by the steel bars that supported it and helped her position it in the car.
A smile appeared through her tears. “Thanks,” she said.
Our eyes met again, and I returned her smile. “Sure,” I replied. Then I added quietly so that only Amanda could hear, “I’ll tie the horses’ reins to the bumper so we can ride them when we get home.”

When I was serving as a mission president, a man called me to ask permission to baptize his mother in his ward rather than his mother’s ward. I asked “Why?” He responded, “Because I do not like her bishop and I will never forgive him for what he did.” When I heard those words, “never forgive him,” my concern shifted from his mother’s salvation to his, and I told him that. I shared the scripture about forgiveness in the Doctrine and Covenants that I just mentioned and asked him to ponder and pray about his request. He called a few days later and told me that he had been a member most of his life, and had read those scripture passages many times, but that somehow in his circumstance he had felt justified in not forgiving. He had finally realized that the commandment to forgive all men, meant all men and he forgave the bishop and felt the joy of forgiveness.

At Brigham Young University we have had some great athletic coaches. We have them now and we have had them in the past. One of these of long ago was Eugene L. Roberts. He grew up in Provo and drifted aimlessly with the wrong kind of friends. Then something remarkable happened. I read you his own words. He wrote:
“Several years ago when Provo City was scarred with unsightly saloons and other questionable forms of amusement, I was standing one evening on the street, waiting for my gang to show up, when I noticed that the [Provo] tabernacle was lighted up and that a large crowd was moving in that direction. I had nothing to do so I drifted over there and went in. I thought I might find some of my gang, or at least some of the girls that I was interested in. Upon entering, I ran across three or four of the fellows and we placed ourselves under the gallery where there was a crowd of young ladies, who seemed to promise entertainment. We were not interested in what came from the pulpit. We knew that the people on the rostrum were all old fogies. They didn’t know anything about life, and they certainly couldn’t tell us anything, for we knew it all. So we settled down to have a good time. Right in the midst of our disturbance there thundered from the pulpit the following [statement]:
“‘You can’t tell the character of an individual by the way he does his daily work. Watch him when his work is done. See where he goes. Note the companions he seeks, and the things he does when he may do as he pleases. Then you can tell his true character.’
“I looked up toward the rostrum,” Roberts continued, “because I was struck with this powerful statement. I saw there a slim, dark-haired fierce-eyed fighting-man whom I knew and feared; but didn’t have any particular love for.”
As he continued, “[the speaker] went on to make a comparison. He said: ‘Let us take the eagle, for example. This bird works as hard and as efficiently as any other animal or bird in doing its daily work. It provides for itself and its young by the sweat of its brow, so to speak; but when its daily work is over and the eagle has time of its own to do just as it pleases, note how it spends its recreational moments. It flies in the highest realms of heaven, spreads its wings and bathes in the upper air, for it loves the pure, clean atmosphere and the lofty heights.
“‘On the other hand, let us consider the hog. This animal grunts and grubs and provides for its young just as well as the eagle; but when its working hours are over and it has some recreational moments, observe where it goes and what it does. The hog will seek out the muddiest hole in the pasture and will roll and soak itself in filth, for this is the thing it loves. People can be either eagles or hogs in their leisure time.’
“Now when I heard this short speech,” said Gene Roberts, “I was dumbfounded. I turned to my companions abashed for I was ashamed to be caught listening. What was my surprise to find everyone of the gang with his attention fixed upon the speaker and his eyes containing a far-away expression.
“We went out of the tabernacle that evening rather quiet and we separated from each other unusually early. I thought of that speech all the way home. I classified myself immediately as of the hog family. I thought of that speech for years. That night there was implanted within me the faintest beginnings of ambition to lift myself out of the hog group and to rise to that of the eagle. …
“There was instilled within me that same evening, the urge to help fill up the mud holes in the social pasture so that those people with hog tendencies would find it difficult to wallow in recreational filth. As a result of constant thinking about that speech, I was stirred to devote my whole life and my profession toward developing wholesome recreational activities for the young people, so that it would be natural and easy for them to indulge in the eagle-type of leisure.
“The man who made that speech which affected my life more than any other speech I ever heard, was President George H. Brimhall. May God bless him!” (Raymond Brimhall Holbrook and Esther Hamilton Holbrook, The Tall Pine Tree: The Life and Work of George H. Brimhall [n.p., 1988], pp. 111–13).
That simple story, told by a great teacher, turned around the life of a drifter and made of him an able and gifted leader. I repeat it tonight because I think that most of us are constantly faced with a choice of whether we wallow in the mire or fly to lofty heights.

A year-and-a-half ago, my youngest daughter, Ashlyn, found herself watching some of her friends making choices that she knew were not in keeping with the gospel and what her father and I had taught her. Initially, the choices seemed small and of little consequence, so she looked the other way and continued her associations. Soon these seemingly small and inconsequential decisions led to more significant and consequential ones, forcing Ashlyn to make a choice. Without talking to either her father or myself, she decided to distance herself, not necessarily from her friends, but from the decisions they were making—decisions that she knew were not in keeping with the Lord's plan for her. And so, this fifteen year old who, like others her age, had made friends her priority began to stay home, and not just on weeknights, but weekends too. I would wander into our family room to find Ashlyn watching TV on the couch by herself.

At first this was an enjoyable change, giving us family time and an opportunity to get to know her better. But when weeks of staying home on Friday and Saturday nights turned into months, I started to worry. I began to ask her if she wanted to do something with her friends. She would casually answer, "No, I'm fine." This of course only caused me more concern. I shared my worries with her father, telling him this just wasn't normal for a fifteen year old girl! My heart began to fill with deep concern for this daughter. What I didn't know then, but would learn later, was that she was trying to distance herself from choices and activities she did not want to be a part of.

Ashlyn realized that finding new friends would take time and so, she stayed home for a significant portion of her freshman year of high school. As Ashlyn relied on the Lord to help her navigate unknown and challenging waters, she was able to forge new friendships and rekindle old ones. And she was able to find her testimony. In the time she spent alone, Ashlyn reflected on her life and goals, thinking about the direction she was headed, what she wanted, and what she held dear. Through her efforts to ponder her life, Ashlyn discovered her testimony of our Savior and began to define how she would live her life, setting a goal to serve a mission and marry in the temple. And, now a junior in high school, she has been blessed with friends who honor her choices and value her as a daughter of our Heavenly Father.