Gospel Story Finder

Elder Ribeiro’s family joined the Church in 1978, when he was 11 years old. While his grandparents and mother were very religious people, his father’s beliefs remained a mystery. He had never spoken to his children about God. One day, when the family was enjoying a holiday in Lisboa, his father met the missionaries in the street. To the surprise of the family, he gave them their address. Since their address was hard to find, he said he didn’t think the missionaries would ever find them. Then one day they heard a knock at the door, and it was the missionaries.
Since his father was a man of honour, he allowed the church representatives to come in and teach the missionary lessons. After the first lesson, they gave him a Book of Mormon. During the second lesson, the missionaries felt inspired to invite him to be baptized. He accepted and the whole family joined the Church.

When I was in eighth grade and stood six feet tall, Aunt Ruth, who was visiting us from Baltimore, said one evening, “Well, dear, perhaps you’ll be a high-fashion model. They’re all tall.” Then she looked at my bony knees and elbows that jutted out. “And extremely thin,” she added. That night my mother tried to comfort me.
“There are worse things than being tall,” she said. “If only you’d stand up straight. You’ve just got to stop slumping. You’d look so much better with good posture.” The look on her face added, “Please, please stop growing.”
“If only I could be as short as you are,” I often said to Angie, my older sister. Angie had only grown to be five feet nine inches, and she did look like a model. She was leading a normal life in college and had lots of dates. I was sure if I could only be her height, all my problems would be solved.
“Be proud of your height,” Angie would say. “It’s great to be tall!” But I didn’t listen.
By the time I started at Jackson High School, I stood six feet one inch. Everyday I walked to seventh period with Mary Beth Johnson who was under five feet tall. We caused stares and smiles. I slumped even more when I walked with her, but I didn’t think our height difference was a good reason to tell her I couldn’t walk with her anymore. That sounded so adolescent.
My only comfort at Jackson was that there were several tall basketball players I’d see in the hall once in a while. Whenever I’d see one, I’d try to move as close to him as possible without being conspicuous. It felt wonderful to be small for a change. Bret Price (six feet six inches) had a fourth period class right next to mine, and I often had the chance to walk right behind him to class. I didn’t really have a crush on him, it just made me feel great to walk behind him. One day I guess I was walking a little too closely, because when he stopped I almost bumped into him. In fact, I couldn’t have stopped much closer. Another two inches and there would have been a crash.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“S’okay,” he said.
The rest of the way to my history class, I walked several yards behind him. But, I wasn’t far enough behind him because I heard his friend Bill Wallops, the senior vice-president of the school, say, “That jolly green giant is still following you, Bret.”
“Yeah,” Scott Williams said, “you’d better watch out. She’s your size.” Bret turned to look at me, and I ducked my head and walked into history.
“Watch it, guys!” I heard him say. “She heard you.”
I slid into my seat in the back of the room and slumped down. Jolly green giant. My dark green outfit had always been my favorite. I thought it looked good with my light hair and brown eyes. Now I hated it. I hated myself. I hated being a giant, a jolly green giant. I’ll never wear this awful thing again, I thought. No, never! All my old inadequacies came back—not that they had ever left. I thought of all the names I’d been called in elementary school: Shorty, Shrimp, Skyscraper Susan. They all seemed to flood my mind at once, and I could feel my face getting warm. But, I wouldn’t cry. No, I wouldn’t.
It was a miserable 40 minutes, and I was sure that if Mr. Randolf called on me, my voice would sound choked, and then everyone would know I felt miserable. I tried to hide behind Will Smith, the boy who sat in front of me. That was hard to do because he was only five feet eight.
If the class saw me cry, I was sure it would be passed around the school. “The Jolly Green Giant cried in history class,” they’d say. Then the school clown would be an even bigger joke. I sat in class a few minutes after the bell, partly to copy down the assignment, but mostly to make sure I wouldn’t run into Bret and his friends again. After I was sure they would be way down the hall, I picked up my books and walked toward the back door of the classroom. I hurried faster when I saw Bret looking in the front door.
“Hey,” he called, “wait!” Had he been looking for me? “A little green man asked me to give this to you,” he said as he caught up with me.
“What is it?”
“Read it,” he said, his dark eyes smiling. He tucked a folded piece of paper into my hand. His large, warm hand that had shot all those winning baskets touched mine.
“Okay.” I must have looked puzzled. He hurried down the hall, and I stood staring after him, stunned. He had spoken to me.
What would the note say? Some other cruel joke about my height? Maybe I should throw it in the trash before I read it. I had, after all, been hurt enough. But curiosity made me take the note to the restroom where I opened it.
There were just three words scrawled on the paper in an easy masculine handwriting. I looked up into the mirror. Girls, all shorter than I, were around me, primping, humming, giggling, gossiping, and making faces as they combed their hair and applied their makeup. I looked back at the note and read it again. “Tall is terrific.”
“Tall is terrific,” I whispered. “Terrific, oh sure.” I looked in the mirror again. Me, terrific? The image smiling back at me was not really as bad as I had expected.
Had I perhaps filled out a little? Was I really a little prettier? I held my shoulders back. I did look better when I stood up straight. And yes, I was rather pretty. It was true I stood many inches taller than the rest of the chattering, giggling girls, but if tall was terrific, that didn’t matter.
I kept my shoulders pulled back and my back straight as I walked into the cafeteria to my regular lunch table where I always ate with my friend Cindy. Before I got to the table, however, I saw Bret Price sitting three tables away with all the “big men” of the school. He was looking right at me and smiling. Bret Price, star basketball player of Jackson, was smiling at me as if to say, “We have a secret. We know you’re terrific!”

When she was just 16 years old, Silvia Henriquez Allred, recently called as first counselor in the Relief Society general presidency, gained a love for Relief Society.
“Shortly after she was baptized, my mother was called as the Relief Society president in our branch in El Salvador,” Sister Allred explains. “She was overwhelmed, but my sister and I [who were also recent converts] told her, ‘It will be OK. The Lord will help you.’ And He did.”
As Sister Allred served as the Relief Society secretary alongside her mother, she was impressed by the opportunities that Relief Society offered in leadership, education, homemaking skills, and service—opportunities Sister Allred says are available “to every woman who embraces the gospel of Jesus Christ.”

In a recent conversation with a friend of mine, he told me that when he was a young, newly baptized member of the Church, he suddenly felt like somehow he did not fit in anymore in his ward. The missionaries who taught him had been transferred away, and he felt like he was on the periphery. Without friends in the ward, he found his old friends and with them engaged in activities that took him away from participating at church—so much so that he began to stray from the flock. With tears in his eyes, he described how deeply grateful he was when a fellow ward member extended a ministering hand to him and, in a warm and inclusive way, invited him to return. Within months, he was back in the safety of the flock, strengthening others as well as himself. Aren’t we grateful for the shepherd in Brazil who sought after this young man, Elder Carlos A. Godoy, who now sits behind me as a member of the Presidency of the Seventy?

Not long ago I had an opportunity to speak in Portland, Oregon. Lo and behold, in the audience was my former bishop, Raymond Kirkham. He was my bishop when I was an Aaronic Priesthood boy. I had the courage to call on him—and you know that can be risky, to call on a bishop who remembers you when you were a boy. I reminded him as he took the pulpit, “Remember, I am the last speaker.”

He got bold and told those young people of some interesting experiences involving my youth. He said, “I knew this young man was destined for a position of leadership. He is the only deacon I ever had who, after passing the sacrament, could crawl under a bench and get out the back door before I recognized he was gone.” He said, “I knew he was going all the way, because he took the whole quorum with him.”

Now you young priesthood bearers, I have repented; and I am grateful for bishops who stood at the back door and redirected my paths.

On Christmas Eve 37 years ago, in the light of a full moon, I climbed a small hill in the isolated village of Quiriza, Bolivia. Four young elders and I had spent the day crossing over a mountain pass on a treacherous road. Then we struggled up a riverbed to see if the teachings of the Savior would help a destitute people. What we saw that day was discouraging—undernourished children, adults subsisting on meager crops, some with eyes glazed from seeking refuge with alcohol and drugs. I looked at the tiny, barren village below: a cluster of adobe thatched-roof houses beaten by the harsh environment. The only evidence of life was barking dogs searching for food. There was no electricity, telephone, running water, roads, proper sanitation, nor doctors there. It seemed so hopeless. Yet a solemn prayer confirmed that we should be there. We found a humble people who embraced the restored gospel with determination to live it. They did that under harsh conditions where severe poverty, alcohol, drugs, witchcraft, and immorality were in plentiful supply.

Under the guidance of exceptional missionaries, the people learned to work hard to cultivate the fields. They produced a harvest of nutritious vegetables and raised rabbits for better protein. But the best lessons came from beloved missionaries who taught them of a God who loved them, of a Savior who gave His life that they might succeed. Their physical appearance began to change. The light of truth radiated from their happy faces. As devoted, loving emissaries of the Lord, missionaries patiently taught truth to a willing people. Wives and husbands learned how to live in harmony, teach truth to their children, pray, and sense guidance of the Spirit.

I watched a six-year-old boy who had carefully observed our first baptismal service act out with his younger sister what he had seen. He carefully arranged her hands, raised his tiny arm to the square, mumbled words, gently lowered her into a depression in the sun-baked earth, led her to a rock where he confirmed her, then shook her hand. The youth learned most quickly. They became obedient to the light of truth taught by the missionaries and in time by their own parents. Through their faith and obedience, I have seen how in one generation youth baptized in that village have overcome a seemingly hopeless future. Some have been missionaries, graduated from universities, and been sealed in the temple. Through their diligence and obedience, they have found purpose and success in life despite an early harsh physical and evil-saturated environment. If it can be done in Quiriza, Bolivia, it can be done anywhere.

Hilary Ashford knows how hard it is for a teenager in Wales to find a job. It took her a long while.

“I was walking in Cardiff one day thinking, ‘I need some money.’” She even said a little prayer. “Then I saw this craft shop, and I just went in and asked them if they had a Saturday job where I could help out.” They took her name and phone number, but never called. “Six weeks later I went back and asked again.” Again, no call. So Hilary went back a third time. “And they said, ‘We’ve been thinking about you. Come Saturday and you can start.’”

Patience and perseverance paid off. That’s part of belonging—creating a place for yourself, helping others get used to having you around. It’s a lesson that would continue.

“They had hot drinks—every few minutes, it seems. There’s a good stock of coffee and tea downstairs,” Hilary explains. “It was only natural that they noticed I was drinking chocolate instead. I got to explain why I couldn’t drink tea and coffee because it’s against my religion. And they were fine about it. I found I can have my standards and fit in just fine.”

President Spencer W. Kimball was concerned because not all men in the Church could receive the priesthood.
___He spent many hours and days praying and thinking about the situation. In the temple, he asked the Brethren what they thought.
___President Kimball decided to ask Heavenly Father whether the time was right for all worthy men to hold the priesthood, and he led the Brethren in prayer.
___One of the Brethren said that there was a sacred feeling in the room. The Spirit of God was there. The Holy Ghost gave President Kimball a special feeling that what he had prayed for was right. Everyone there knew the same thing by the power of the Holy Ghost. They didn’t hear a voice with their ears, but the Spirit whispered to their minds and hearts that the choice was right.

One night I went in my parents’ bedroom to ask my dad something, but he was kneeling in prayer, so I left and returned a few minutes later to find him in the same position. I decided to get ready for bed, thinking he would surely be done praying when I was finished with my bedtime routine. I returned to my parents’ bedroom about 10 minutes later to find him still praying! Seeing that example from my father strengthened my testimony. He was truly pouring his heart out in prayer to Heavenly Father.

Out on the field, Richard makes the game look simple. He feints, counterfeints, and passes. He sees an opening and sprints for it, waving his hand to let fellow players know he’s in the clear. On defense he shouts instructions and directs traffic as though he’s been playing all his life—which is just about the truth. His expertise, along with his scholarship in school, have qualified him for two trips abroad with soccer teams—one to Glenrothes, Scotland, another to Den Haag, Holland. While there, Richard lived with families and attended school, as well as playing exhibition soccer.
Of course, there have been embarrassing times, too. Like slipping and falling in the mud, or getting clobbered with a lopsided score, or losing every game during the season when Dad was the head coach. But some of that has to be expected.
How Richard plays in a particular match is determined by two things: which position he’s playing (he plays three), and which team he’s playing for at the time (he plays on four). On the ward team the ages vary significantly. So do the skill levels. But there, playing is mostly for fun. On the all-star team or in league competition, games are closely contested, and each move makes a difference.
Richard and John will talk for hours about their favorite sport. John plays forward, an offensive position that puts him on the front line of attack. Richard usually plays halfback, the midfield position, which challenges him by requiring both offensive and defensive skills. However, Richard has also played forward, as well as fullback (the last defender between the ball and the goalie).
They disagree about which is the ideal position to play. John says forwards have the most enjoyable job on the field because they go where they want. “It’s kind of like playing hide-and-seek with the defense,” he says. But he also notes that forwards often take the blame for missed goals. Richard counters that halfbacks have the fun of playing at both ends of the field, which, though it demands endurance, allows them power to control the tempo of the game.
John says fullbacks get the most rest, that their main task is to steal the ball and relay it to the opposite end of the field. Richard notes, however, that the defense is often outnumbered, and the fullback’s role is vital in preventing goals. Both agree, however, that the goalie may have the roughest assignment. He’s expected to analyze each shot-on-goal correctly and position himself properly to block or deflect it, often diving face down on the turf in the effort.
The two young men also discuss dreams, like playing on a professional or Olympic team, or even more immediate wishes, like attending a soccer clinic at BYU.
At a home evening recently, Richard brought out a scrapbook he keeps; it’s full of his souvenirs. He passed it around the family circle, describing photos he took himself and clippings from newspapers. The rest of the family joined in with other stories, laughter, and warmth. It was clear that they were all involved in learning lessons through their Church activity and through sports. They were learning about brotherhood by working together; they were learning to plan their time to be able to do things they enjoy and still meet school, Church, and household responsibilities; they were learning about family love, caring, and sharing; and they were learning about fixing goals for themselves. It was clear that they’re involved with soccer—and with each other—for more than just the kicks.

Jill stood up, gathering her things together. One memory flashed swiftly across her mind. It was the hot summer of her tenth year. She had been bike racing with Martin up the hill to her house. Everything was going fine until her front tire hit a patch of gravel that caused her to skid out of control. Martin brought his bike to a screeching halt and helped Jill untangle herself from her bicycle. Jill remembered she had bumped her nose and skinned both her knees. Martin helped her limp home and then left. As her mother carefully applied Band-Aids to the torn knees, Jill told her that Martin was glad she fell because she had been winning. Her mother tried to explain that she was sure that that wasn’t true, but Jill insisted, pointing out that he had even left her alone. About a half an hour later, Martin showed up at their doorstep. He had brought Jill’s bicycle back and put it in the garage. He asked if Jill could come outside for a minute. Jill remembered walking out with a cool expression of complete disdain. She was completely surprised when Martin presented her with a “victory scoop” of strawberry ice cream. She had been winning, he had explained, so he bought her an ice cream cone with his allowance.

During the time I was a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood, I was called to be president of the quorum. With the urging and assistance of a dedicated and inspired quorum adviser, I worked diligently to ensure that each of the young men attended our meetings regularly. Two of them were a particular challenge, but with our perseverance and love and a little persuasion, they began to attend meetings and participate in quorum activities. However, as time passed and they left the ward to pursue education and employment, each of them drifted back into inactivity.
Over the years I have seen each of these two dear friends at various functions. Whenever I do, I place a hand on their shoulder and remind them, “I’m still your quorum president, and I won’t let go. You mean so much to me, and I want you to enjoy the blessings which come with activity in the Church.” They know I love them and that I’ll never ever give up on them.

Indexing also affected my family. My father works in the Church’s Family History Department. When he saw me doing indexing, I could see a spark of excitement go through him. I learned more about his work, and we spent quality time together. Later, I taught my mom how to index and helped with workshops for ward members. After I had finished my 10-hour value project, I found myself still indexing. In about two and a half months, I was able to get over a thousand records done.

Brad introduced Jenna to the gospel when they were 17. He baptized her just a week after she turned 18. “My parents were present when I took the discussions and were not shy about asking questions,” Jenna says. “But they always thought that this was a fleeting thing with me.”

Brad and Jenna wrote to each other during Brad’s mission. When Brad returned from his mission and asked Jenna to marry him, “my parents realized that this was not a fleeting thing,” Jenna says. “For two years my parents knew they would not be able to see me be married, but it wasn’t until Brad and I began to plan and prepare that their hurt began to show. They felt left out. They felt as if they were being told that they weren’t good people because they weren’t members and didn’t have temple recommends. Brad and I had even considered having a civil marriage and then waiting a year to be sealed. However, I knew in my heart that I needed to stand up for what I believe in. We needed to be an example to my parents, our friends, and family.”

While Brad and Jenna were being sealed, one of the temple workers talked to Jenna’s parents about the temple. Jenna had planned one more thing: “I gave my parents each a card telling them how much I loved them and that I knew someday they would understand why I had made this decision.”

The day after their sealing, Brad and Jenna continued their wedding celebration. Back home in Wisconsin, they publicly exchanged rings and held a reception at the church. “My mom and father-in-law both gave talks,” Jenna says. “We tried to make my family feel as involved as possible.”

As Jenna looks back on her wedding, she remembers the tender feelings she shared with her parents. “I know more than anything that they were able to feel the Spirit in the temple waiting room and that Heavenly Father helped them to feel at peace and to know that the decision I was making was right.”

Earlier this year, I asked the young adults of the Church to consecrate a portion of their time each week to study everything Jesus said and did as recorded in the standard works.9 I invited them to let the scriptural citations about Jesus Christ in the Topical Guide become their personal core curriculum.10
I gave that challenge because I had already accepted it myself. I read and underlined every verse cited about Jesus Christ, as listed under the main heading and the 57 subtitles in the Topical Guide.11 When I finished that exciting exercise, my wife asked me what impact it had on me. I told her, “I am a different man!”
I felt a renewed devotion to Him as I read again in the Book of Mormon the Savior’s own statement about His mission in mortality. He declared:
“I came into the world to do the will of my Father, because my Father sent me.
“And my Father sent me that I might be lifted up upon the cross.”12
As Latter-day Saints, we refer to His mission as the Atonement of Jesus Christ, which made resurrection a reality for all and made eternal life possible for those who repent of their sins and receive and keep essential ordinances and covenants.
It is doctrinally incomplete to speak of the Lord’s atoning sacrifice by shortcut phrases, such as “the Atonement” or “the enabling power of the Atonement” or “applying the Atonement” or “being strengthened by the Atonement.” These expressions present a real risk of misdirecting faith by treating the event as if it had living existence and capabilities independent of our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ.
Under the Father’s great eternal plan, it is the Savior who suffered. It is the Savior who broke the bands of death. It is the Savior who paid the price for our sins and transgressions and blots them out on condition of our repentance. It is the Savior who delivers us from physical and spiritual death.
There is no amorphous entity called “the Atonement” upon which we may call for succor, healing, forgiveness, or power. Jesus Christ is the source. Sacred terms such as Atonement and Resurrection describe what the Savior did, according to the Father’s plan, so that we may live with hope in this life and gain eternal life in the world to come. The Savior’s atoning sacrifice—the central act of all human history—is best understood and appreciated when we expressly and clearly connect it to Him.
The importance of the Savior’s mission was emphasized by the Prophet Joseph Smith, who declared emphatically that “the fundamental principles of our religion are the testimony of the Apostles and Prophets, concerning Jesus Christ, that He died, was buried, and rose again the third day, and ascended into heaven; and all other things which pertain to our religion are only appendages to it.”13
It was this very statement of the Prophet that provided the incentive for 15 prophets, seers, and revelators to issue and sign their testimony to commemorate the 2,000th anniversary of the Lord’s birth. That historic testimony is titled “The Living Christ.”14 Many members have memorized its truths. Others barely know of its existence. As you seek to learn more about Jesus Christ, I urge you to study “The Living Christ.”
As we invest time in learning about the Savior and His atoning sacrifice, we are drawn to participate in another key element to accessing His power: we choose to have faith in Him and follow Him.
True disciples of Jesus Christ are willing to stand out, speak up, and be different from the people of the world. They are undaunted, devoted, and courageous. I learned of such disciples during a recent assignment in Mexico, where I met with government officials as well as leaders of other religious denominations. Each thanked me for our members’ heroic and successful efforts to protect and preserve strong marriages and families in their country.
There is nothing easy or automatic about becoming such powerful disciples. Our focus must be riveted on the Savior and His gospel. It is mentally rigorous to strive to look unto Him in every thought.15 But when we do, our doubts and fears flee.16
Recently I learned of a fearless young Laurel. She was invited to participate in a statewide competition for her high school on the same evening she had committed to participate in a stake Relief Society meeting. When she realized the conflict and explained to competition officials that she would need to leave the competition early to attend an important meeting, she was told she would be disqualified if she did so.
What did this latter-day Laurel do? She kept her commitment to participate in the Relief Society meeting. As promised, she was disqualified from the statewide competition. When asked about her decision, she replied simply, “Well, the Church is more important, isn’t it?”
Faith in Jesus Christ propels us to do things we otherwise would not do. Faith that motivates us to action gives us more access to His power.
We also increase the Savior’s power in our lives when we make sacred covenants and keep those covenants with precision. Our covenants bind us to Him and give us godly power. As faithful disciples, we repent and follow Him into the waters of baptism. We walk along the covenant path to receive other essential ordinances.17 And gratefully, God’s plan provides for those blessings to be extended to ancestors who died without an opportunity to obtain them during their mortal lives.18
Covenant-keeping men and women seek for ways to keep themselves unspotted from the world so there will be nothing blocking their access to the Savior’s power. One faithful wife and mother wrote this recently: “These are troubled and perilous times. How blessed we are to have the increased knowledge of the plan of salvation and the inspired guidance from loving prophets, apostles, and leaders to help us sail these stormy seas safely. We stopped our habit of turning on the radio in the morning. Instead, we now listen to a general conference talk on our mobile phones every morning as we prepare ourselves for another day.”
Another element in drawing the Savior’s power into our lives is to reach up to Him in faith. Such reaching requires diligent, focused effort.
Do you remember the biblical story of the woman who suffered for 12 years with a debilitating problem?19 She exercised great faith in the Savior, exclaiming, “If I may touch but his clothes, I shall be whole.”20
This faithful, focused woman needed to stretch as far as she could to access His power. Her physical stretching was symbolic of her spiritual stretching.
Many of us have cried out from the depths of our hearts a variation of this woman’s words: “If I could spiritually stretch enough to draw the Savior’s power into my life, I would know how to handle my heart-wrenching situation. I would know what to do. And I would have the power to do it.”
When you reach up for the Lord’s power in your life with the same intensity that a drowning person has when grasping and gasping for air, power from Jesus Christ will be yours. When the Savior knows you truly want to reach up to Him—when He can feel that the greatest desire of your heart is to draw His power into your life—you will be led by the Holy Ghost to know exactly what you should do.21
When you spiritually stretch beyond anything you have ever done before, then His power will flow into you.22 And then you will understand the deep meaning of words we sing in the hymn “The Spirit of God”:
The Lord is extending the Saints’ understanding. …
The knowledge and power of God are expanding;
The veil o’er the earth is beginning to burst.23
The gospel of Jesus Christ is filled with His power, which is available to every earnestly seeking daughter or son of God. It is my testimony that when we draw His power into our lives, both He and we will rejoice.24
As one of His special witnesses, I declare that God lives! Jesus is the Christ! His Church has been restored to the earth! God’s prophet upon the earth today is President Thomas S. Monson, whom I sustain with all my heart. I so testify, with my expression of love and blessing for each of you, in the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Elder Anderson returned from the mission field in May 1914. It didn’t take long for him to find a new companion. Norma Ettie Peterson was the daughter of Hugo D. E. Peterson, editor of a Salt Lake newspaper for Swedish immigrants, the Utah Posten. “She was blonde and I was dark, and I thought she was the prettiest girl in the city,” says Elder Anderson, who courted her, swimming and dancing, at the old Saltair resort near the Great Salt Lake. They were married 11 November 1915, in the Salt Lake Temple. Salt Lakers were impressed by the striking couple: Norma Anderson, with her brilliant platinum-blond hair and dark eyes; and Joseph, his handsome black mustache reminding people, much to his delight, of British movie star Ronald Colman.

“FSY Conference can change lives of the youth and the leaders too. Last 2023 I attended my first and last FSY Conference as a participant, I wasn’t feeling well mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, but my mother still counselled that I should go. I didn’t know that it would really change my life. I met a friend that really cared and listened to me, to my heartaches and sorrows. She was there when I needed a friend who would listen to me without any judgment. I felt God’s love after we talked and that’s one of the reasons why I accepted the calling as an FSY Counselor, I want the rising generation to feel God’s love, that no matter what circumstances and challenges they go through God is always there for them and he would send an angel (like a friend) who would help them and uplift them.” – Joemerly Hular, 20, Bacoor Stake

As some of my companions engaged in practices that Latter-day Saints don’t think highly of, such as smoking or drinking, profanity or immorality, it was evident that they didn’t concern themselves about what the Lord would like them to do. When moments of stress came, however, their attitudes changed. I remember when one of these boys, who was not particularly impressed with the life of a former missionary, was scheduled for what was called an elimination flight, and he knew that if he failed the test that day, he would be eliminated from flying in the United States Air Force. He came to me in a very solemn mood and quietly said with tears in his eyes, “Bill, please pray for me. I need it.”

One day my instructor was giving an explanation to five of us in the ready room. In order to explain a certain maneuver, he went to the blackboard. Inasmuch as he was smoking a cigarette, he handed it to me to hold while he made the demonstration, and by this means I had the “privilege” of holding my first cigarette. After he had finished his demonstration at the blackboard, he took his cigarette back, and then he said, “Mr. Bangerter, I apologize for handing you my cigarette. I know you don’t smoke, do you?”

I said, “No, sir, I don’t.”

He said, “You don’t drink either, do you?”

I said, “No, sir.”

He asked, “Do you drink tea?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you drink coffee?”

“No, sir.” He turned to the other four students standing together and said, “Now, men, that’s the Word of Wisdom. We would all be much better off if we lived that way.” You can appreciate that I felt uplifted by that experience.

Another day I was riding in the airplane with my squadron commander. I was about 23 years old, and he was about 40. He was a man of fine manners and polite expression. After we had finished our flight and had landed the airplane, we were taxiing back to the parking area when another airplane came driving past in a way that my squadron commander did not appreciate. He looked over at the other pilot and said to me in a disgusted voice, “Where does that so-and-so think he is going!” And he uttered an oath. We parked the airplane and shut off the engine. As I climbed out, he turned to me and said, “Mr. Bangerter, I am sorry I spoke the way I did back there. I forgot for a moment it was you who was riding with me in the airplane.”

Of course, I realized throughout those years that I was considered different. Some people may have thought me strange. Those with whom I associated, however, frequently expressed admiration for the way I lived. I never found it necessary to break my standards, to remove my garments, or to apologize for being a Latter-day Saint. On more than one occasion during our training, my classmates gathered together for a farewell party or some other special event and had a dinner that, of course, was liberally supplied with liquor. Several of my companions would come to me before the dinner and ask me if I would please be so kind as to drive their car home for them because they would not be able to trust themselves at the conclusion of the party.

I can honestly say that no nonmember of the Church has ever tried to induce me to discard my standards. The only people I remember trying to coerce me to abandon my principles or who ridiculed me for my standards have been non-practicing members of the Church.

I know it is a blessing to stand up for the principles of truth and righteousness. People who value their character and their reputation will be honored to be of the chosen generation and to stand out as representatives of a peculiar and a noble people. I hope I may always find young people who are square. They are the solid kind, and their foundations are secure.

A year later, Prince was ready to serve as a full-time missionary in the Kenya Nairobi mission.

“I can say missions change lives,” he says. During the time he served, there was a lot of persecution of the Church in Kenya, with anti-Church sentiments frequently being printed as newspaper headlines.

“As I walked the streets of Nairobi, I was many times accused of joining the Church for the sake of money”. A particularly difficult confrontation with a detractor became his turning point. That evening, he says, “I realized I had to pack my bag and go home or know for myself.”

Prince received his answer.

“For the first time, like the Prophet Joseph Smith, I could say I knew it, the Lord knew it and I could not deny that I was in the true Church.”

Apparently the Lord tried to make his presentation as memorable as possible, which recalls the story of the chief engineer of a certain company whose services had been dispensed with. He asked the president why he had been dismissed. The president said, “You let us make a mistake which cost us a lot of money.” The engineer replied, “But certainly you must remember that I specifically advised you not to do that.” The president replied, “Yes, I remember that you advised us not to do it, but you didn’t pound the table when you advised us.”