Gospel Story Finder

Recently Sister Nelson and I were in Denmark during the commemoration of the 150th anniversary of the Church in Scandinavia. Between meetings, we took a few hours to search for villages where two of my father’s grandparents were born. They were among the early converts to the Church in Denmark. Father’s paternal grandmother’s family lived in the western part of the country. His paternal grandfather’s family lived in northern Denmark. Thanks to a good driver and a superb map, we found each town on our list and obtained treasured information. During the entire journey, my hands were riveted to that valuable map so essential to achieve our goals.
In contrast, many people travel through life without good guidance, lacking knowledge of a desired destination or how to get there. But if rapt attention is paid to a road map for a day’s journey, isn’t it also wise to pay attention to authoritative guidance on our journey through life? To this end I would like to speak—on why we need guidance, where we obtain it, and how we can achieve it.
The question why focuses on the purpose of life. The ultimate objective in our mortal journey has been revealed by our Creator, who said, “If you keep my commandments and endure to the end you shall have eternal life, which gift is the greatest of all the gifts of God.”
His gift of eternal life is subject to conditions established by Him. Those conditions constitute a plan or, to use my analogy, a spiritual road map. And when trouble comes, guidance is needed most. In our journey in Denmark, we met an unexpected detour that led us astray. In order to get back on course, we stopped the car. We studied the map with great care. Then we made the necessary course correction.
What if you are lost and have no map? Suppose you are alone. You do not know where you are. What can you do? You call for help! You call home! Call the Church! Pray! When connected with your help line, you learn that you need to make a climb here or a turn there to get back on course. Or you may have to go back to the beginning in order to be certain that you can get where you want to go.

My most tender meeting with Howard W. Hunter took place on October 3, 1963, as I entered the outer office of President David O. McKay, who had invited me to come and visit with him that Thursday afternoon—for what purpose I knew not at that time. Howard W. Hunter had been checking some matters with President McKay’s secretary. Brother Hunter and I greeted each other and shook hands. I noted the tears in his eyes with yet a smile on his lips and a catch in his voice. I did not understand why he was so emotional. After visiting with President McKay, where he extended to me my call to the Twelve, I understood. Howard W. Hunter had known why I was there that afternoon. He had been where I was now going. He had felt the feelings I was soon to experience.

Some years ago I served on the Priesthood Home Teaching Committee and was assigned to attend stake conferences with the General Authorities to teach leadership principles relating to home teaching. During a Saturday night priesthood leadership meeting in the Raft River Stake in Idaho, Elder A. Theodore Tuttle of the First Quorum of the Seventy called on me to make my presentation. For about 15 minutes I waxed strong on the subject of home teaching and presented what I thought was a very comprehensive outline of methods that might be used to improve the performance of the brethren of the stake. The audience was courteously attentive except for a few yawns on the back row. These I attempted to cure with some interesting stories and all the enthusiasm I could generate. When I wound up the talk, I sat down feeling much like a football coach who had just given a rousing locker room pep talk.
Elder Tuttle had a very thoughtful look on his face as he arose to talk to the group. He began his presentation by saying something like this: “I tried to listen attentively to Brother Anderson’s presentation, but my mind kept wandering. I couldn’t help thinking about the home teaching families to which I am assigned at home. I have some real challenges in trying to reach and influence them, and they are a constant concern to me. Maybe I could just tell you a little about them, and you could help me with some suggestions.”
Elder Tuttle did not reveal any personal information that would betray a confidence, but he did proceed to illustrate some problems. Before long, hands were in the air; the priesthood members were offering suggestions and solutions, and everyone in the audience was involved in helping. Who were they helping? They were helping themselves learn how to solve home teaching problems.
And me? I was observing with awe the work of a great teacher and motivator. He was busy leading, delegating, enthusing, and the receivers of the learning were hardly aware of their change in attitude. They were busily involved, they thought, in solving someone else’s problems.

Last week from a wonderful Methodist friend, who serves in Scouting and whom I came to admire and love greatly in that worthy endeavor, there came a note sharing some good things that have happened to him. One of them was that he had met a young man who had been one of his Scouts. The man obviously was in some distress, and Brother Dyke, as he spoke with him, discovered that he had lost his wife in a tragic way. He had little children, and this loss had almost destroyed him. They had stayed with his mother during the last stages of the terrible illness, but then had to go home to their little apartment—and how he dreaded that. They ate TV dinners and watched television until too late. The little girl fell asleep, and he carried her to bed. When he returned, his son said, “Daddy, tonight, just tonight, could I sleep with you?” The two of them went into the bedroom and lay there in the dark, neither sleeping.

In the darkness, Bill said, his son spoke, “Daddy, are you looking at me?”
He said, “Yes, son, I’m looking at you.”
The little boy said, “Okay.” He snuggled his little body tight into the small of his daddy’s back and went to sleep.

Bill said, “Mr. Dyke, I don’t believe I’ve ever felt so alone. I looked out the window, and I said out loud, ‘God, O God, if you’re looking at me, and you know my need, I can make it.’”

One of the first tours that Sister Rasband and I led was a very important delegation from the Roman Catholic Church at the Vatican, the world headquarters of their church right there in Rome.

You can imagine I was a little concerned about how the Catholic Church would welcome the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and our temple to Rome. Well, we learned quickly that they brought love and best wishes. One of their leaders made quite an interesting comment. He said: “Brother Rasband, will you please base this tour on the holy scriptures so we know how to tie this temple work to the scriptures?”

I thought to myself, “This is what I have prepared for.” Then I said a little prayer that Heavenly Father would help me, and He did. Let me give you a couple of examples of His help.

We went out on the piazza and looked up at the exterior of the temple. I felt inspired to say to this wonderful delegation of Catholic leaders, “May I say that this temple in Rome, and all temples of our Church, did not originate with the Latter-day Saints? In fact, temples have been built since the earliest of times.” We discussed Solomon’s temple and Herod’s temple, the temple at the time of Christ. I then added, “You have heard about The Book of Mormon. In that scripture, the people in the Americas also built temples. A prophet named Nephi had a temple, as did King Benjamin, and the Savior appeared after His resurrection at one of their temple sites.”

We then discussed the manner in which the temples were built, including their fine quality and workmanship, and I said, “As we go through this temple, that is what you are going to see: a temple built of the finest materials and of the very best workmanship that man could offer to the Lord for His holy house."

Our tour included the baptistery. Most of you here have done baptisms for the dead. As I stood at the railing with them, one asked, “Elder Rasband, what basis in scripture is there for your baptisms for the dead?” I recalled a passage of scripture I had learned as a missionary and said: “Else what shall they do which are baptized for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? why are they then baptized for the dead?” [7]

The brother responded, “Elder Rasband, I have never considered that scripture this way before.” Privately in my heart, I rejoiced.

I told them the oxen that support the baptismal font were mentioned in the Old Testament regarding Solomon’s temple. The twelve oxen symbolize the twelve tribes of Israel, holding up a “molten sea” [8] or basin. I said, “That is the baptistery where we perform these ordinances.”

Our tour concluded in the sealing room where Sister Rasband and I took turns bearing our testimonies that the temple is “the great symbol of our membership” [9] in our Church and everything in the temple culminates in eternal marriage and the creation of eternal families.

Before we left, we invited them to look in the mirrors in the sealing room. I told them that as they could see themselves going on forever, that is what we see for eternity, symbolizing that marriages performed in the holy temple are eternal.

At the end of this tour I presented the archbishop with a Christus statue and reminded him of the Thorvaldsen replica in the visitors’ center. I testified that not only do we teach about the Savior’s suffering in Gethsemane and upon the cross, but we teach with great reverence of His glorious Resurrection.

A story in Church history brought me some comfort. On February 24, 1834, Joseph Smith received a revelation (Doctrine and Covenants 103) to organize over 100 men to travel to Jackson County, Missouri, USA, to help the Saints regain the land they had lost when they were expelled from there the previous year. Around 230 men, women, and children joined the expedition, which became known as Zion’s Camp. After preparing, the group left home in May and marched as much as 40 miles a day.1
Not only did Zion’s Camp face the physical aspects of the journey, but a few members of the group also exhibited backbiting, disobedience, and rebellion. Yet many others remained faithful and counted the expedition and the opportunity to be with Joseph as a privilege. With circumstances changing around them, the Prophet sought direction from the Lord and received another revelation in June (Doctrine and Covenants 105) saying that they no longer needed to continue their efforts. Members of the camp returned home without seeming to fulfill their purpose to redeem Zion, though many recognized that it was not a failure because the journey allowed them to grow closer to God and see His hand in their lives.2
Struggle at Zion’s Camp, by Clark Kelley Price
When the Saints in Zion’s Camp faced the news that they would be returning home without their expected blessing, they may have wondered why Heavenly Father had asked them to take the journey in the first place. I, too, wondered why I’d been led in a direction that didn’t turn out as I had planned.
After several weeks of feeling more sadness than I’d ever felt before, I realized I didn’t want to continue living with such a negative attitude. I knew I was not sent to earth to live a life consumed with discouragement and pessimism. After all, we are that we “might have joy”! (2 Nephi 2:25). I decided to shift my focus from the “whys” of the past to finding purpose in the midst of affliction.
I reached out to other people, became involved in new hobbies, and went back to school. I also started a daily gratitude journal. What started out as one-line entries turned into full pages as I began to recognize the Lord’s hand in my life more effortlessly. My prayers changed from wish lists to gratitude lists.
Even though my hard days didn’t disappear—they still haven’t—I now know what a difference it makes to focus my perspective on the good in life. Instead of seeing my trials as a bad thing, I decided to view them as an opportunity for growth.
Looking back on how things have turned out since I came home from Paraguay, I can see how Heavenly Father was guiding me and giving me opportunities through my experiences. I met some of my closest friends in those months following my mission, and I was able to immediately start studying at a local university, even though the deadline for enrollment had passed. That program led me to a study abroad in Switzerland, where I got to share the gospel with my host family.
Those years of consciously choosing gratitude have instilled in me a habit of thanking Heavenly Father for all things, which increases my faith in Him.
These words in a priesthood blessing I received during a low week have also helped me understand faith: “I bless you with understanding and knowledge that God … will give you those things that will not only be for your good but … help you become all that He wants you to be. Those will not always be easy blessings, for our struggles and adversity are the things that make us grow.”
I know that Heavenly Father consecrates our efforts, and as President Russell M. Nelson has taught, “The Lord loves effort.”3 God truly does seek our happiness and will forever be by our side.

I know how unnerving it can be to be asked to do something that seems far beyond your capacity. I had been a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles for only 19 months when President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) passed away. In the first meeting of the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles following the ordination of President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994), he gave specific assignments to the Twelve. His instructions to me included these words: “Elder Nelson, you are to open the countries of Eastern Europe for the preaching of the gospel.”
That was 1985. During the politically frigid years we refer to as the Cold War, not only did a literal wall divide the city of Berlin, but all of Eastern Europe was under the oppressive yoke of communism as well. Churches were closed, and religious worship was strictly limited.
I had spent much of my professional life opening hearts to perform life-saving operations, but I had no experience that would lead me to believe I could open countries for the preaching of the gospel. And yet, a prophet had given me an assignment, so I set out to do what seemed utterly impossible.
From the outset, obstacles were placed in my way. I arrived in most countries not knowing where to go. Even when I was able to find the name of an appropriate government official, it was not unusual for a meeting to be canceled at the last minute or to be postponed. In one country, when an appointment was delayed for two days, a number of temptations were intentionally placed in my way to test me—including traps for black market money and other illicit activities. On another occasion, a meeting was opened with the demand that I depart immediately!
But the Lord is able to do His own work (see 2 Nephi 27:20–21), and I was privileged to watch the unfolding of one miracle after another—always, and only, after I had brought my best thinking, my most courageous efforts, and my most fervent prayers to the task.
Recognition of the Church was granted by some of those countries before the Berlin Wall came down. Recognition from others came later. In 1992, I was able to report to President Benson that the Church was then established in every country in Eastern Europe!

I have been a member of the Church for more than ten years. As an officer in the Democratic Republic of the Congo military, I have experienced tremendous difficulty arranging to travel from my home to attend the Johannesburg South Africa Temple and to participate in sacred ordinances there. Over the years I made several requests to my superior officers for permission to travel to South Africa with my family, but still it was difficult to leave Kinshasa given the regime changes which had taken place in our country.
After several attempts to persuade through my chain of command—still without success—I made a decision to discuss the situation with our local priesthood leaders to seek their guidance and direction. Together we pleaded for divine help. Then one day, I was reading 1 Nephi 3:7, which says: “And it came to pass that I, Nephi, said unto my father: I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.” I realized even more that by always obeying the commandments of the Lord, God provides the means for His children to accomplish the things which He has commanded them.
Then a few years later, at the October 2011 General Conference, then Church President Thomas S. Monson announced plans for the construction of the Kinshasa Temple. At that moment I was far away—more than 1700 km from my home, which is in Kinshasa. My wife Guylaine Kakudji Koyengule, filled with joy at hearing the announcement, phoned to tell me the news—and it was really a day of great joy for me and my family.
After this announcement we looked forward to the groundbreaking and construction. And now our Kinshasa Temple has just been dedicated!
Today I live about five to ten minutes away from the temple. Even without transportation means, I still am able to go there. I know that Heavenly Father truly listens to His children’s prayers and that He answers in due time. I also know that the temple is the House of the Lord and that through the covenants we make with our Heavenly Father in His house—the temple—we will be saved.
John Koyengule is a member of the Gombe GB Ward, Kinshasa Democratic Republic of the Congo Stake.

In early 2004 we were devastated to learn that Juanita’s cancer had returned, this time in her lungs. In somber tones our doctor told us he would try to keep the cancer under control as long as possible, but there was now no possible cure. At first I felt betrayed and hopeless. Juanita and I had righteous desires and plans. What about the missions we were going to serve together? What about the grandchildren we were going to strengthen spiritually? How could this happen to us?
As I went through the proclamation again, this time it was as if someone turned a flashlight on to highlight the words “Children are entitled to birth within the bonds of matrimony, and to be reared by a father and a mother.” I recognized my children were entitled to be raised by a father and a mother. This statement filled me with hope that in the face of very large medical odds Juanita would be blessed with a miracle and be healed.
We lived a fairly normal and hopeful life for about six months, but then the cancer began to take its unmistakable toll. Juanita lost weight rapidly and acquired a nearly constant and uncomfortable cough. Even the smallest exertion left her struggling for breath. Things seemed always to get worse and never better. Soon it became apparent that it was not God’s will for Juanita to live very much longer. I was at a complete loss to explain why God had not stepped forward with the miracle we so badly needed and so sincerely hoped for. But then again the words of the proclamation provided inspiration and comfort: “Sacred ordinances and covenants available in holy temples make it possible for individuals to return to the presence of God and for families to be united eternally.” Through many tears my understanding was enlarged to see that Juanita would indeed receive a miraculous healing. Because of the plan of salvation, Juanita would pass from this life into a beautiful place to be greeted by her father, our daughter who had passed away, and the Savior. Because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, Juanita would be healed and at the Resurrection receive a perfect body, free from cancer and any other illness. I could also see that through all eternity our children would have access to her influence as their mother—another miracle.
I also felt impressed that there was much we could yet do in this life to give the children continued access to her wisdom. I received a clear impression that it was time for us to stop focusing our faith on a physical miracle that was not in keeping with God’s will and focus instead on learning as much as we could from Juanita in the short time we had left. We needed to be better prepared “to return to the presence of God and for [our family] to be united eternally.” In our family testimony meeting we expressed these feelings poignantly, and their truth washed over us all. Then we went to work.
Juanita wrote her testimony of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, and I wrote mine as well. We printed and laminated them along with our pictures in a size that would fit in the children’s scriptures. Juanita then wrote long letters in her own hand to each of the children, expressing appreciation and offering words of encouragement and advice. We recorded Juanita’s sweet voice singing hymns, Primary songs, and childhood lullabies and made CDs for each of the children and for future grandchildren. We also recorded messages to be listened to on special occasions such as going to the temple, leaving on a mission, getting married, giving birth to a child. Juanita crocheted baby blankets and bibs for future grandchildren. Our lives now became focused, full of activity, and we received great comfort from the Spirit. All this came as a result of inspiration from the proclamation.
All of our children were at Juanita’s side when she died, and each had the opportunity to share tender communication with her. She was alert and talked to us until about 10 minutes before she passed away. That’s when I told her, “I love you,” and she responded in Spanish, “Lo mismo,” which means “Same to you.” Those were her last words. Her passing was sweet.

In my early childhood, we had a stove in the kitchen and a stove in the dining room. A furnace was later installed, and what a wonderful thing that was. But it had a voracious appetite for coal, and there was no automatic stoker. The coal had to be shoveled into the furnace and carefully banked each night.

I learned a great lesson from that monster of a furnace: if you wanted to keep warm, you had to work the shovel.

Elder Strong was six feet, two inches tall and weighed 220 pounds. He looked like he should be a linebacker for an American football team. But he seemed very unsure of himself when I asked what his strengths as a missionary would be.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, do you have some goals, something you’d like to accomplish while you’re here?”
“Uhm, well, I haven’t really … I don’t know.”
That night, after the missionaries were in bed, I went to my office. I always did this, in case someone felt a need to talk with me. The office was just down the stairs and two doors away from the room where the elders were sleeping.
In a few minutes, I heard someone tap on the door.
It was Elder Strong.
“I have to go home, president.”
“Tell me about it.”
After tears and a tender moment or two, he said at first that he didn’t have a testimony, that he was unsure of himself, that he couldn’t learn the scriptures, and a number of other excuses. But after we talked a little longer, it became evident that the real problem was that Elder Strong was homesick.
Until he entered the MTC, he had never been away from home overnight. He was so attached to his mother that even though he had just seen her at the airport a few hours ago, he felt he had to phone her and tell her that everything was all right. She had insisted that he call when he arrived, and he hadn’t.
So I talked to his mother for him.
Elder Strong had a problem that a lot of missionaries have to deal with—homesickness. It isn’t wrong to love your family. And it’s all right to miss them when you’re apart. But until you can stop constantly thinking about home and get on with your work, you’re not going to be fully involved as a missionary.

Several years ago I received a letter from a longtime friend. He bore his testimony in that letter. I would like to share part of it with you tonight, since it illustrates the strength of the priesthood in one who learned what he should learn, who did what he should do, and who always tried to be what he should be. I shall read excerpts of that letter from my friend Theron W. Borup, who passed away three years ago at the age of 90:
“At the age of eight, when I was baptized and received the Holy Ghost, I was much impressed about being good and able to have the Holy Ghost to be a help throughout my life. I was told that the Holy Ghost associated only in good company and that when evil entered our lives, he would leave. Not knowing when I would need his promptings and guidance, I tried to so live that I would not lose this gift. On one occasion it saved my life.
“During World War II, I was an engineer-gunner in a B-24 bomber fighting in the South Pacific. … One day there was an announcement that the longest bombing flight ever made would be attempted to knock out an oil refinery. The promptings of the Spirit told me I would be assigned on this flight but that I would not lose my life. At the time I was the president of the LDS group.
“The combat was ferocious as we flew over Borneo. Our plane was hit by attacking planes and soon burst into flames, and the pilot told us to prepare to jump. I went out last. We were shot at by enemy pilots as we floated down. I had trouble inflating my life raft. Bobbing up and down in the water, I began to drown and passed out. I came to momentarily and cried, ‘God save me!’ … Again I tried inflating the life raft and this time was successful. With just enough air in it to keep me afloat, I rolled over on top of it, too exhausted to move.
“For three days we floated about in enemy territory with ships all about us and planes overhead. Why they couldn’t see a yellow group of rafts on blue water is a mystery,” he wrote. “A storm came up, and waves thirty feet high almost tore our rafts apart. Three days went by with no food or water. The others asked me if I prayed. I answered that I did pray and we would indeed be rescued. That evening we saw our submarine that was there to rescue us, but it passed by. The next morning it did [the same. We knew] this was the last day [it would] be in the area. Then came the promptings of the Holy Ghost. ‘You have the priesthood. Command the sub to pick you up.’ Silently I prayed, ‘In the name of Jesus Christ, and by the power of the priesthood, turn about and pick us up.’ In a few minutes, they were alongside of us. When on deck, the captain … said, ‘I don’t know how we ever found you, for we were not even looking for you.’ I knew.”

Young Women from the Mesa Arizona North Stake decided to devote some of their time at girls’ camp to performing a service to others. For the three days they were at camp, the girls devoted some of their time each day to sewing teddy bears to be given to local fire departments. Firefighters can give the bears to children who have been in traumatic situations, to comfort them and keep them occupied.
Just one week after giving their phenomenal gift of 650 teddy bears (all sewn in patriotic red, white, and blue), the girls were able to see their gift in use. A local paper showed a picture of a child who had been involved in an accident. In his arms, he was holding a small bear, hugging it tightly around the neck.

When my son, Joshua, was about two years old, he developed a keen interest in clocks. If we passed a clock in the house, he wanted to stop and look at it. He especially liked to put his ear up close to the clock and listen to the ticking sound it made. He went through a phase where we couldn’t pass by a clock without stopping to listen to it tick.
I realized some interesting things from that simple activity. First, the clock ticked all the time, not just when we paid attention to it. Second, even though we knew the clock made a sound, we had to get close to it and be very quiet and still in order to hear the soft ticking.
Now whenever I hear soft ticking sounds from a clock, I can’t help but remember the simple lesson my son taught me about being still to hear the quiet promptings of the Spirit.

Let me relate such a story. As I was touring with the International Folk Dancers as a performer many years ago, with founder and director Mary Bee Jensen, I stayed in a modest apartment in Sweden with a middle-aged couple with two children. Their home was of humble means, but they radiated a special spirit of love toward us because we were all members of the Church. I had told the sister how much I admired her beautiful old concert piano. She shared with me that they would soon not have the piano. It had been an heirloom in the family from her parents. All her other brothers and sisters had wanted the piano, but her parents had left it to her because she played so beautifully. When I asked why she would soon not have the piano, she said, “We have a buyer for it, and we are going to use the money to go to the Swiss temple to be sealed for time and all eternity and be able for one week to do work for the dead.” The value of the temple experience far outweighed the worth of the precious piano for this dear sister. It was a sacrifice for her whole family, but a worthwhile one.

What a lesson this was for me. I have often thought back to that experience, and I always feel a deep sense of appreciation for the opportunity I have to visit temples all over the world and to go within their hallowed halls.

Dr. Bulane, a staff physician at the Makoanyane Military Hospital in Maseru, Lesotho, deals daily with a shortage of trained medical personnel and supplies. The people of Lesotho, a landlocked country in southern Africa, suffer from an HIV/AIDS infection rate of nearly 30 percent, a 34.4-year life expectancy, recurring drought, poverty, and a high infant mortality rate.
Because of his concern for infant mortality, Dr. Bulane registered for a training program in neonatal resuscitation conducted in his community by the Humanitarian Services Division of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Soon after participating in the June 2006 training session, Dr. Bulane saved a newborn baby boy by implementing his new techniques. “Through neonatal resuscitation techniques, the baby was saved,” he explained. “He is doing great now. … The training puts everything else in perspective. As far as I am concerned, it instills confidence. I now know exactly what to do. There is no panic.”

In 2015, Sydney and her family participated in a fundraising managed by JDRF, an organization that helps fund research for type 1 diabetes. After the walk, Sydney wanted to keep helping. She says, “I was super excited to get out and do stuff, and I wanted to inform people of the symptoms of type 1 diabetes so they would know to get tested.” To do this, she and her mom created a social media page to promote awareness. Their first post included pictures of the walk, and they’ve continued with regular posts debunking myths about diabetes, promoting fundraisers, and showcasing diabetes-related events and activities Sydney participates in.

I get up almost every morning and pour myself some cold cereal for breakfast. I used to pour a bowl of Grape Nuts or Corn Flakes and set the box right in front of me where I could read it for 10 or 15 minutes. I could read each panel close to three times in one sitting. Eating cold cereal five days of the week meant I was reading the U.S. Recommended Daily Allowances 15 times per week or 60 times in a month!
In high school I had a difficult time getting excited about scripture reading. In my seminary class, though, daily scripture reading was required if I wanted a good grade, so I would read the scriptures—for the grade. Each night, just before my eyelids were ready to close, I would remember about the “A” that I wanted in seminary and grab my scriptures from my desk. As I fell into a deep sleep, my mind would skim over the words and I never really got that much out of them.
Then I started college. Every night I was up so late I didn’t feel like I had time to read the scriptures. There were so many other things to do—like sleep! But I began to feel guilty seeing them sitting on my shelf, only taking them down for church or home teaching. Besides, I could always find the time to read a good novel or go to a movie. So one morning, I took my scriptures to the breakfast table with me. Rather than reading those daily allowances that I had memorized anyway, I read the scriptures. I found something very interesting—the scriptures fill another type of Recommended Daily Allowance: things like increased spiritual awareness, a good feeling inside, and answers to my problems.
After reading my scriptures in the morning, my day goes a lot better. Reading every day has evolved into an everyday habit which I now enjoy very much. I am glad that my Heavenly Father loves me enough to show me how much I need his word in my life.

“Me? No way. Maybe Mum and Dad, but not me.”

“He’s a good boy, is Stu,” Granddad said.

I didn’t answer. I wanted to tell Granddad about Stu, that I was worried about him, but I couldn’t betray my brother.

“Did you know that I joined the Church when I was about Stu’s age?” Granddad added.

“I guess.”

“My parents had been baptized a few years before, but I didn’t want anything to do with the Mormons. I had a gang of friends, and we liked going to the pubs.”

Just like Stu, I thought. “So why’d you join?”

“My Mum and Dad, and I had a younger brother, Reg. We used to be like you and Stu, fighting a bit, but we really loved each other. Anyway, there was a Mormon wardhouse down in Leeds. And every week Reg would invite me to go. It was about a two-hour trip to get there.”

“Twenty miles in the snow, uphill both ways, right?”

Granddad laughed. “All right, you’ve heard the story. But thinking of Mum and Dad and little Reg having to make that trip alone every week started to gnaw at me. So one Sunday when it was raining and miserable, I helped them harness the horse and went with them.

“And you know, I found a lot of answers.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I was wondering about life and death and just a lot of things. And after that, whenever I didn’t go, I felt like I was missing out, that I should be in church. That sound daft?”

“No. That’s how I feel when I miss church. Once I pretended to be sick to get out of going. You won’t tell Mum will you?”

“Never.” He winked at me again.

He stood and tucked the bag of mushrooms under his arm.

“When I needed some direction in my life, my brother showed me where to look,” he said slowly. “And if you know someone who is a little lost, well maybe you need to give him a little hint. Nothing pushy, just a nudge.”

I looked at Granddad. It was obvious we were both thinking of Stu, but we never said his name.

Thirty years later, the benefits of having simple and clear goals such as these came into sharp focus during an unexpected exchange with one of my colleagues. During January of 2000, my wife and I were called to preside over an undisclosed mission for a three-year period. Due to the length of that assignment, I would need to step down from my university position and faculty appointment, with little likelihood of ever returning to such a position. Still, Margaret and I accepted the call because we had faith it had come from the Lord and would be a great blessing.
Shortly thereafter, I sent a note to several of my colleagues so they would hear our plans directly from me. One of those colleagues called me a few days later. His first question was, "Is it true?" When I responded affirmatively, he incredulously asked, "Are you crazy?" followed by a firm, "We need to talk."
That same day, over lunch, we had a fascinating conversation. My colleague knew a fair bit about our church, having worked closely with me and a few other LDS colleagues. He explained that he had always found his LDS colleagues to be level headed and relatively conservative but he considered my decision to leave a senior position at the university before I was old enough to retire in order to take a volunteer position without pay somewhere in the world to be radically unconscionable.
I calmly responded by telling him what my long-term goals had been since the time of my mission at age 19. I explained that I had always considered myself a faithful Priesthood holder, willing and anxious to serve wherever needed. Furthermore, having watched my own parents serve in a similar position towards the end of their working career, I knew the blessings it would bring to our family.
I then asked this colleague why it seemed so crazy to him. He proceeded to tell me how his goal had always been to be a senior faculty administrator at the university. He couldn't imagine how someone could give up all of that based on a single phone call from a church leader. I simply explained that I viewed it as trading a wonderful job and environment for an even more rewarding opportunity and assignment.
By the end of our discussion, he was still confused by our decision but did acknowledge the consistency between my identity, what I valued most, and my new assignment, even if it was different from his own ideals. I left that meeting most grateful that, years earlier, I had prioritized identity goals focused on my relationship with the Lord, with Margaret and with our family above temporal goals based on the world's measures of success.