Gospel Story Finder

I was excited when Mom told me Sean was coming for dinner. He’s my big brother, but he moved away from home when he finished high school. My brother Mike went on a mission when he finished high school, but Sean doesn’t even go to church. He’s a great brother, though, and I love him. I especially love it when he plays with me. When I was smaller, I’d take horse rides on his back. He ran all over the yard with me hanging onto his neck and him holding onto my legs. He snorted and bucked around like a real horse.
I’m too big for that now, so he shows me wrestling moves instead. He won the city wrestling championship in the 11th grade. Sometimes we play ball, and sometimes we just sit and talk. I was really looking forward to his coming over tonight because I wanted him to help me make a model race car. Sean is good with his hands, and I like to work with him.
I helped Mom set the table to make the time go faster. As I put the knives and forks out, I noticed something was wrong. “Hey, you have too many plates on the table,” I said.
“No, dear. Sean is coming tonight, and so are the missionaries.”
“The missionaries!” I cried, slamming down the last fork. “Why do we have to have the missionaries when Sean is here? I want to have him to myself. I want it to be a special night.”
Mom looked at me in surprise. “It can still be a special night,” she replied gently. “The missionaries are nice young men. I’m sure you’ll like them.”
That’s what she thought. How could Sean play and work with me when the missionaries were here? I knew he’d be polite and spend his time talking to them.
By the time Sean arrived, I was upset. He could tell I wasn’t happy, but I knew better than to tell him why. Mom and Dad would be really disappointed if I ever complained about the missionaries to him. More than anything else, they wanted him to come back to church. So did I, but I didn’t think talking to the missionaries all night would make it happen.
When the missionaries arrived, Mom had dinner ready, so we sat down to eat. Everyone had a good time. Mom was right—the missionaries were great guys. They cracked jokes with Sean, and both faked surprise when he told them he wrestled in high school. Sean’s not my big brother just because he’s older, but also because he’s big—tall and strong and big.
Dinner ended with everyone laughing. Then it happened. Elder Blair asked if they could leave a message and a prayer before they went to their next appointment. This is the end of the night for me, I thought, disappointed. Sean won’t be helping me with my model car tonight. He’ll escape before anyone talks religion to him.
I waited to hear his chair move and the excuse why he couldn’t stay. But nothing happened. Slowly I looked up, and he was still there, watching Elder Blair thumb through his Book of Mormon. When Elder Blair found what he wanted, he read a few verses. Then he started asking Sean questions. Mom and Dad looked worried and hopeful. Sean answered each question in a humorous kind of way. He had stayed because he was having fun with the missionaries, and now he was going to go on joking even though the elders were being serious.
Suddenly Elder Peterson, the short, skinny one, caught on to what Sean was doing. “Sean,” he said, looking him in the eye, “do you believe in Jesus Christ?”
Everything seemed to change. Sean looked back at Elder Peterson, and instead of answering with a joke, he very softly said, “Yes.”
“Then why are you making fun of what we’re saying?” Elder Peterson asked.
I looked at Mom. She had tears in her eyes. Dad did, too. What’s the matter with them? I wondered. Were they upset with Sean or with the missionaries?
Sean and Elder Peterson continued talking, Elder Peterson asking questions and Sean giving him honest answers. Finally Elder Peterson said, “Sean, when was the last time you went to church?” Sean shrugged and looked at Mom and Dad for help, but they both shook their heads. They couldn’t remember either.
I could remember—not the date but how happy I had felt sitting beside him, proud to be his brother, glad to sing along with him, even though he couldn’t sing very well. I wanted to tell him, but suddenly there was a big lump in my throat, and I wasn’t sure I could talk.
“Sean,” Elder Peterson asked, “will you go to church with us on Sunday?”
Sean was looking at his hands. I couldn’t see his face, but we could all see his head slowly nod up and down. The lump in my throat grew bigger, and now I had tears in my eyes, too. Everyone was crying, but we all had smiles on our faces.
As I looked at Sean and Elder Peterson, I didn’t see a scrawny elder and a big wrestling champion. I saw David and Goliath. David had saved the day because he had the Spirit of the Lord with him. That’s why we were all crying—we could feel that Spirit, and it felt good.
I love my brother Sean, but at that moment I wanted to be like Elder Peterson. I wanted to have the Lord on my side, and I think Sean wanted that, too. Mom was right. This had been a special evening. I had seen David, unafraid, go into battle with Goliath. Fortunately, they both won!

We have a leader as a prophet who has told us to lengthen our stride. He is a man who is a prophet, Spencer W. Kimball. How do I know that? By having been around him a very short period, but also by having observed him and heard stories about him for many years.

On my first stake assignment, the stake president told me this: “You know, when President Kimball was first assigned as a prophet and an apostle, he came to our house. My father was the stake president at the time. It was 5:30 in the morning, and we heard hammering. Out on our little shed at the back of our house where we needed some repairs was Elder Spencer W. Kimball—hammer in hand, nails, and shingles, repairing the roof.” On my next call, when I went to a particular stake where the lawn needed mowing, I almost felt as if I should have brought a lawnmower along because that is what the prophet had shown us. President Kimball has been dedicated—throughout his open-heart surgery, his cancer. And all of the afflictions that he has had could have caused him to give up. But he has dedicated every hour of every day so that this Church might move forward.

I would like to conclude with another sports story that really depicts this thing called commitment.

It was homecoming day at Champaign-Urbana, the home of the fighting Illini—the University of Illinois. They were playing Wisconsin for the Big Ten football championship. With seventy-two thousand fans in the stands, late in the ball game, Illinois had a lead of seven to three. Wisconsin had the football on Illinois’ four-yard line, first and goal, with four minutes left to play. Get the picture? A field goal won’t tie it or win it; they have got to score a touchdown. Illinois had a little linebacker who, during the time out prior to putting the ball in play, went around and shook guys, saying, “We have got to stop them! It is important that we win this football game.” Just before Wisconsin went into the huddle, this little Illinois linebacker got the Wisconsin quarterback’s attention. Playing fullback for Wisconsin that year was a guy named Alan “the horse” Ameche—six foot three, 230 pounds, Heisman trophy winner, two-year All-American, later the all-pro fullback for the Baltimore Colts—a moose of a man. Your grandmother would have known who was going to get the football on the four-yard line. But this little linebacker got the quarterback’s attention and said, “Hey, send Ameche at me.” Now, I have been on the line of scrimmage, and I would just as soon Ameche went over there someplace. This is like saying, “President, let me do it”; “Bishop, I’ll do it”; “Dad, I’d be happy to do it.” The linebacker felt, “The whole game depends on how I play. Send him at me.” The quarterback thought, “You’re as good as the next guy,” and he handed off to Ameche in the direction of the taunting linebacker. When the dust settled, this little guy screwed his hat back on straight again, and, with the ball on the three-yard line, got the quarterback’s attention and hollered, “Hey, send Ameche at me again.” Four times he egged him on: “Send Ameche at me.” When the smoke cleared and the dust settled, the ball was on the ten-yard line, and Illinois won a great football game because one little guy on that team had enough courage to invite them to “send Ameche at me!” that’s commitment!

I remember as a child listening to the testimonies given by adults in my ward. Those testimonies entered my heart and inspired my soul. Wherever I go throughout the world—no matter the language, no matter the culture—I thrill to hear the testimonies of the Saints.
Recently, I received a letter from our grandson who is a missionary. He wrote that members “who are reading scriptures and praying are more willing to share the gospel.”
I believe he’s right. The more we study the scriptures and pray, the more likely we can enthusiastically share our testimonies of the gospel with others.
Remember, Church members who receive a testimony of the gospel are under covenant “to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places.” It is clear we have a sacred obligation to obtain referrals for our missionaries. Witnesses have a special knowledge and are to bear testimony of “that which they have seen and heard and most assuredly believe.” We make simple, clear, direct statements that we know with certainty and surety that the gospel is true because it has been “made known unto [us] by the Holy Spirit of God.” In bearing such a testimony, speaking by the power of the Holy Ghost, we are promised that “the Holy Ghost shall be shed forth in bearing record unto all things whatsoever [we] shall say.” We are blessed personally when we so testify.
President Boyd K. Packer said: “A testimony is to be found in the bearing of it. Somewhere in your quest for spiritual knowledge, there is that ‘leap of faith,’ as the philosophers call it. It is the moment when you have gone to the edge of the light and step into the darkness to discover that the way is lighted ahead for just a footstep or two.”
Making a determined and confident public statement of your belief is such a step into the unknown. It has a powerful effect in strengthening your own convictions. Bearing testimony drives your faith deeper into your soul, and you believe more fervently than before.
To those who faithfully bear testimony, the Lord said, “Ye are blessed, for the testimony which ye have borne is recorded in heaven for the angels to look upon; and they rejoice over you, and your sins are forgiven you.” I have tried to follow this counsel to bear testimony.
May I tell you how I gained a testimony of the truth and divine nature of this great latter-day work? I’m afraid my experience isn’t very dramatic. It is not a story of heavenly hosannas or thundering shouts. It is not a story of lightning, fire, or flood.
But I have always known the reality and goodness of God.
From my earliest memories it was there—a sure and abiding testimony of this great work. Sometimes that assurance comes when we feel the love of the Savior when we meet His servants. I remember when I was just five years old and my family moved into a new ward. That first Sunday, Bishop Charles E. Forsberg, who was born in Sweden, came up to me and called me by name. I knew then.
During the cold and gray days of the Great Depression I remember a wonderful servant of the Savior by the name of C. Perry Erickson. Brother Erickson, a contractor, had a difficult time finding work. He could have shut himself up. He could have become bitter and angry. He could have given up. Instead, when I was 12 he was my Scoutmaster. He spent countless hours helping me and others my age to learn, to grow, and to approach every difficulty with confidence and optimism. Without exception, every one of C. Perry Erickson’s Scouts received an Eagle award. I knew then.
Yes, the testimonies of priesthood leaders and faithful ward members helped me to know.
I remember the words of my mother and father. I remember their expressions of faith and love for their Heavenly Father. I knew then.
I knew the reality of the Savior’s compassion when, at the request of my father, the bishop of the ward, I delivered food and clothing to the widows and poor of the ward.
I knew, when as a young father, my wife and I gathered our children around us and expressed our gratitude to our Heavenly Father for our many blessings.
I knew last April, when I heard from this pulpit the words of our prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley, who called Jesus his friend, exemplar, leader, Savior, and King.
President Hinckley said: “Through giving His life in pain and unspeakable suffering, He has reached down to lift me and each of us and all the sons and daughters of God from the abyss of eternal darkness following death. He has provided something better—a sphere of light and understanding, growth and beauty.”
Now, I would like to bear my testimony—I know that Joseph Smith saw what he said he saw, that the heavens opened and God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, appeared to an unlearned youth reared in the backwoods of New York.
As a special witness of the name of Jesus Christ in all the world, I promise you that if you seek the Lord, you will find Him. Ask, and you shall receive.
I pray that you may do so and testify to the ends of the earth that the gospel of our Lord and Savior is restored to man! In the name of my friend, my exemplar, my Savior and King, Jesus Christ, amen.

Last fall I found myself with a wonderful but challenging opportunity to develop and teach Primary training through a video made entirely in Spanish. At one time in my life I was a Spanish speaker, but recently I had been speaking Portuguese and knew what it would take to relearn Spanish. I did all the things each of you do to complete a task that feels extremely difficult. I found help from capable and dedicated Hispanic sisters. Together we studied, prayed, fasted, and worked long hours. The day arrived to go and do the thing the Lord had asked, and we not only were fearful but felt our work was inadequate. We had worked up to the moment of delivery, and nothing more could be done. I wanted to start over.
Each of our husbands gave us priesthood blessings, and peace and calm started to come. Like angels, help came in the form of a sweet husband who set the alarm on his watch so he could pray for me every half hour during the recording, a cameraman whose eyes radiated “Good job,” and Primary leaders who had confidence in the workings of the Spirit and were able to communicate that with power. We ended up with a finished film that was helpful for our Spanish-speaking leaders. All who participated in it were partly surprised and entirely grateful for its success. We walked as far as we could go, and when we thought we might abandon our carts and drop by the wayside, angels somehow pushed from behind.

Years later I met with Elder Jairo Mazzagardi of the Seventy when he came to reorganize our stake. He asked me about my mission.
Elder Mazzagardi said, “Brother Murilo, I see that you were baptized when you were 16, but you did not serve a mission.”
“I did not serve a mission,” I said, starting to cry.
“But I do everything possible so the Lord will forgive me. I have served as a branch president for seven months, and I try to be a missionary and give my best. I work hard to help others. I want the Lord to forgive me. I do not want this blemish at the last day.”
“Brother Murilo,” he said, “do not look back; look forward. Whoever looks back walks backwards, and whoever looks forward walks forward. You are clean.”
I was happy to hear this! I felt light, happy, and peaceful.
It felt like a six-ton backpack was lifted off my back.
He told me to return with my wife and called me to serve as stake president.
Elder Mazzagardi then said, “Your experiences will help you be stake president. You will be able to help young people who have difficulties or who do not have the support of their parents. You did not have the opportunity to serve a mission, but this is your mission now. You will help send young people on missions.”
As stake president one of my main goals is to help young men and young women prepare to serve missions. The Lord has given me the right words at the right time to talk to these young people. I am grateful the Lord has given me the opportunity to help others choose to serve missions.

I am grateful to Kristie for her introduction. I recognized her goodness and her loving heart within the first few minutes after I picked her up for our first date and began to get to know her. After we dated for a couple of months, she left to come here to BYU–Hawaii to attend school. It didn’t take me very long after she left before I realized that if I wanted any chance of being with her forever, I needed to take some action. In addition to the countless emails and phone calls, I recruited my brother and my auntie to come to Hawaii with me to visit Kristie, and then later that same semester I came again with her family for Thanksgiving.
It was on that second trip that we got engaged and I somehow convinced her to leave this place which she had grown to love, and to come back to Utah where we were married. We have been married now for more than 22 years, and she is my best friend. A constant source of strength and encouragement to me and to our family.

“Jake! Jake!” hollered my little brother, Sam. “Come and see me.”
“Not now,” I called back, grabbing my hockey stick and heading onto the ice. My team, the Sharks, had a game to play, and I needed to warm up.
“What did Sam want?” asked my friend Joel. He didn’t have any little brothers, so he didn’t understand how Sam could be more annoying than ten mosquitos buzzing in your ears.
“Nothing important, I’m sure,” I said, gliding across the ice. “Let’s practice shooting.”
A few minutes later, the buzzer went off, and the players headed to their boxes for last-minute instructions.
“The Sharks will have to keep the puck away from Number Fifteen,” Coach warned as we huddled around him. “And we’ll have to pass the puck a lot, because the Jets are fast. Just remember to look for an open teammate.”
The clock buzzed again, and we skated onto the rink for the face-off. The referee dropped the puck between the two centers, their sticks clacked together, then the puck skittered toward me and I hooked it with my stick. A second later, a Jet defender raced in front of me. I remembered Coach’s advice and managed to pass the puck away just before he grabbed it.
The puck ricocheted all over the rink, with both teams skating hard to score. With only two seconds left in the first period, the Sharks finally managed to slip the puck past the Jet goalie and into the net.
“Yes!” cheered our team, banging our sticks against the boards as the clock buzzed, ending the period.
“Good job,” Coach said as we headed for the locker room. “Jake, I could see that you really listened to me. You made some great passes.”
“Thanks.” I could feel the sweat running down my face, and my legs ached from racing around the rink, but I didn’t mind. The Coach knew I’d paid attention and tried. That made me feel like I’d won a gold medal.
No one scored in the second period, but at the beginning of the third period, the Jets scored and tied the game. After that, both teams fought hard for the puck, but no one kept it long enough to score again. Then, with only thirty seconds left in the game, the Jets’ Number Fifteen intercepted a pass. He quickly stickhandled the puck down the rink with short, back-and-forth movements. None of the Sharks could catch him. Our goalie crouched down in front of the cage, trying to anticipate the shot, but Number Fifteen managed to send the puck flying into the corner of the net. The Jets had won the game, and I felt like a balloon that someone popped with a pin.
“You played a great game,” Joe told me, slapping my back as we lined up to shake hands with the Jet players. Joe always tried to cheer me up. He was the best friend a guy could have.
“Jake,” Sam called again as the Jets headed to the locker room.
“I’ll see you at home,” I said, pulling off my helmet. “I have to shower and change.”
I hurried inside. I knew that Sam would talk to me all night, anyway. After I changed, I looked for Joe but couldn’t find him.
“He left as soon as we finished playing,” someone told me. I grabbed my duffel bag and headed out alone. I’d call Joe later and ask him to come over.
When I got home, I pulled off my jacket and hat. Then I stared at the floor. Another duffel bag sat there, and Joe’s jacket was plopped on top of it.
“Is Joe here?” I asked my dad.
“He’s in the family room with Sam,” Dad said.
I went into the family room and saw Sam lying on the couch, with Joe sitting in a chair by his side.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“My stomach started hurting at the hockey game,” Sam said. “You were busy, so I told Joe.”
“I didn’t mind walking home with him,” Joe said. “He told me he didn’t feel well, so I just came right here after the game.”
“Oh,” I said, finally noticing that Joe still had his uniform on.
“See you later, big guy,” Joe told Sam, standing up and stretching. “Then you can tell me all about that poster you’re drawing.”
“What poster?” I asked.
“The one I’m making for science class,” said Sam. “It has whales on it. Joe likes to know what I’m doing.”
“Oh,” I said again as Sam pulled a blanket up over his shoulders.
“Do you need anything?” I asked him, feeling kind of guilty.
“No, I’m fine,” said Sam, and his droopy eyes started to close.
Joe left, and I dragged my duffel bag to our laundry room. I thought about Sam as I put my hockey uniform into the washing machine. Coach had said I did a good job of listening, but when it came to Sam, I usually ignored him. No wonder he’d asked Joe to bring him home. Joe listened to Sam just like he always listened to me. He made Sam feel important; I treated Sam like a pest. I definitely didn’t feel proud of that.
After supper that night, I did something different. Instead of calling Joe, I picked a book about whales off my shelf. Then I went into the family room, where Sam was watching television. “Have you seen this book yet?” I asked him, showing him the killer whales on the cover.
“Cool!” Sam smiled at me. “Did you read that?”
“Yeah. Actually, I like whales, too. Maybe I can help you with your poster.”
“Really?” he asked. “Do you really want to help me?”
“Really,” I said, opening the book. “Show me your favorites.” Sam hesitated for only a second. Then he started turning pages and talking ten miles a minute.
This time I listened. Just maybe, one day Sam will think that I’m the best brother a guy could ever have.

I am so grateful that Cari Lu and I are here together with you. We raised our family mostly in Puerto Rico. During most of our life, we lived far from any temple. But early in our marriage, we made a commitment with the Lord and each other that we would visit, together, His Holy House at least every single year. The Lord blessed us with even more opportunities to attend. Sometimes, this was a trip to temples in Washington D.C., Florida, Utah, or the Dominican Republic. Other times, I would travel throughout the United States and the world with my work, and I saw the Lord bless me as I sometimes would have a house of the Lord right next to me, or other times I would drive up to seven hours to the nearest one. When my job sent me somewhere else, the Lord always provided a miraculous way to be able to go to one of His temples around the world. No matter what, when I was far from it, I drew myself closer to the house of the Lord, closer to His covenants.

My dear friends, I struggle to find words or simple ways to explain it, but I have faced many adversities. Darkness tried to creep up on me many times as I was a young adult building a family with Cari Lu. I was sent to many places, and faced the adversary’s “mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, … his hail and his mighty storm” trying to “beat upon” me and trying to have “power over [me] to drag [me] down to the gulf of misery and endless wo.” But brothers and sisters, I did, and I strive to do, all I can to “build [my] foundation” upon “the rock of [my] Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God.”

I could have never imagined the sacred and overwhelmingly indescribable experience I had decades later. The Lord then blessed me to have been serving in the Caribbean Area Presidency, when, during my last year there, I was assigned to accompany Elder D. Todd Christofferson to the dedication of the house of the Lord in my home island of Puerto Rico. I was invited by Elder Christofferson to pronounce the dedicatory prayer for the last session of the dedication.

I can still remember the feelings of the heavens opening, the Savior accepting His house, and—together with the Saints, family members, and beloved lifelong pioneers in Puerto Rico on both sides of the veil—saying “Hosanna to God and the Lamb.”

I recall the time I approached baptism, when I was eight years of age. My mother talked with me about repentance and about the meaning of baptism; and then, on a Saturday in September of 1935, she took me on a streetcar to the Tabernacle baptistry which, until recently, was here in this building. At the time it was not as customary as it is now for fathers to baptize their children, since the ordinance was generally performed on a Saturday morning or afternoon, and many fathers were working at their daily professions or trades. I dressed in white and was baptized. I remember that day as though it were yesterday and the happiness I felt at having had this ordinance performed.
Over the years and particularly during the time I served as a bishop, I witnessed many other baptisms in the Tabernacle font. Each was a special and inspiring occasion, and each served to remind me of my own baptism.

It was nearly thirty years later while I was on an assignment in Idaho that I was approached by a sister who inquired, “Brother Muren, would you be available tomorrow, Saturday, to come to our home for lunch?” She continued without waiting for an answer. “I am Velma Holsinger, the daughter of Henry Eddington, one of the elders who taught you the gospel in California. I have in my possession my father’s missionary journals, and I have marked those pages which deal with your conversion.”

The next day I arrived promptly and anxiously read through the marked pages. I was most interested in those passages which dealt with the experience that allowed me to know of the truthfulness of the gospel.

Elder Eddington had carefully recorded in his journal that he and Elder Asay had held a special fast and had prayed that day so that “young Joe Muren might know for himself.”

The Book of Mormon records well what occurred to me that evening in 1954. As those servants of the Lord “did minister with power and with great authority,” it was not possible that I could disbelieve their words (see 3 Ne. 7:17–18).

As the years have passed, I have recognized more fully that it was not just a spiritual experience of the moment, but rather, I was a recipient of a testimony, a gift from Heavenly Father, that when nourished and cherished would have lasting effects upon me every day of my life.

Now, as we look behind me at this array of missionaries, we are often asked by nonmembers why the Church continues to send out the Elder Asays and the Elder Eddingtons—the tens of thousands of missionaries every year. They inquire, “Why do you send them even to those nations which already know of the Bible and Jesus Christ?” Why did Elder Asay, in his sixties, leave his bride of many years to serve a mission in California? Why did Elder Eddington, a retired teacher and principal, not remain in Idaho and enjoy his family during those “golden years”?

Again the answer is clear in the scriptures. After the Lord had been crucified, He returned to the earth to bear witness of His resurrection and to give a sacred charge to His Apostles. From the twenty-eighth chapter of the Gospel of Matthew, we read: “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you” (v. 19–20).

Today, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints continues with this sacred charge—that is, to go and to teach all nations to observe all things whatsoever He, the Savior, has commanded us (see Matt. 28:20). These thousands of missionaries who have been called by a prophet are visual evidence that our Heavenly Father has not forgotten His children. We bear witness to the world that He lives, that He knows each one of us individually. He has a plan, a divine plan, to bring you and to bring me back into His presence. The Savior has returned to the earth, by way of modern-day prophets, all of those teachings, all of those ordinances, and His holy priesthood to bring happiness in this life and eternal joy in the life to come—a plan with solutions, a divine plan with guidance to all of the challenges of this life.

Again, the question is asked: Why do we have more than forty thousand missionaries serving in the world? Because Heavenly Father loves us. These men and women are His servants! They are His representatives! They come with a message that truly represents what the world needs and wants.

You too can know! Yes, you too can know for yourself! For those of you that have already received a witness of the truthfulness of the gospel, I encourage you to cherish that testimony. It is so delicate! It is so fragile! It needs to be nourished with prayer, with the reading of the scriptures, and being at the right place at the right time. I promise you and bear witness that your testimony will grow, and you can have a mighty effect on those with whom you associate.

Now, there are friends of mine here today who are not members. I know you search for the truths which Heavenly Father has given us. You need to know that you are His children, and we invite you to allow the Elder Eddingtons and the Elder Asays of the Church today to teach you how the Church was returned to the earth in these latter days.

Heavenly Father offers to you through His servants a new life. The scriptures call it a rebirth. Not only did the Lord Jesus Christ tell His apostles to “go … and teach,” but to baptize them “in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost” (Matt. 28:19).

I bear testimony, paraphrasing the words of Peter in his second epistle, that we do not follow cunningly devised fables when we make known unto you the power and the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ (see 2 Pet. 2:16).

Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ did return to the earth in 1820. They did restore the priesthood of God and His plan of salvation to a modern-day prophet, Joseph Smith. I know that! I cannot deny what I have felt and what I have seen. I bear this witness to you in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Some time ago a friend of mine was facing the same decision you are. My friend Sarah* always had a strong testimony of the Church and its truths. Since we were young, both Sarah and I had a great desire to get married in the temple.

When she was 17 or 18, she met and started dating a young man. He had a great personality and was very easy to like. He wasn’t a member, but in the beginning it didn’t seem like that was a problem.

Eventually, she started to think about how life would be if she married him, even though it wouldn’t be in the temple. She thought: “Maybe it can work; maybe we can compromise. Maybe he will change in time. Maybe I can bring him into the gospel.”

She thought a lot about this, and she cried and she prayed. She knew deep inside that she had always wanted temple marriage, but her feelings for her boyfriend made it hard for her to decide. In the end she broke up with him. It was one of the hardest things she had ever done, but she put her trust in the Lord.

In the spring of 2007 she married a wonderful man. They are now sealed to each other for time and eternity. She’s truly happy she decided to wait until she found someone she loved and could marry in the temple.

If you don’t know what kind of decision to make, pray about it until you do know. Put your trust in the Lord. I know from watching Sarah—and from my own life—that when we do, He blesses us.

COLIN: That I really enjoyed showing Christlike love to everyone. There are a lot of hard-hearted people in the world. It’s hard for them to open up and express themselves. That’s why you’ve got to help them show love, to help them live happier lives, to help them gain that success they have always tried to find but that can come only with the eternal perspective of the gospel.
In Sydney, I was assigned to work in the immigrant areas. Every time I knocked on a door, people were a bit surprised because they thought Mormon missionaries were mostly white Americans and white Australians. They had never seen an aboriginal LDS missionary before. We told them we had an important message about Christ and tried to be polite and kind. They really liked it. They said come around again. As we came around again, those that were home invited us in and we taught them a discussion.
COLIN: I hope that for some people I did. Some of the aborigines would see me and say, “What are you doing?” I would say, “I’m a missionary for my church.” And they would say, “I want to be like you and get a good life.” I told them they should try.

Many years ago, on my first visit to the village of Sauniatu in Samoa, my wife and I met with a large gathering of small children—nearly 200 in number. At the conclusion of our messages to these shy yet beautiful youngsters, I suggested to the native Samoan teacher that we go forward with the closing exercises.

As he announced the final hymn, I suddenly felt compelled to greet personally each of these children. My watch revealed that the time was too short for such a privilege, for we were scheduled on a flight out of the country, so I discounted the impression. Before the benediction was to be spoken, I again felt that I should shake the hand of each child. I made the desire known to the instructor, who displayed a broad and beautiful Samoan smile. In Samoan, he announced this to the children. They beamed their approval.

The instructor then revealed to me the reason for his and their joy. He said, “When we learned that a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles was to visit us here in Samoa, so far away from Church headquarters, I told the children if they would earnestly and sincerely pray and exert faith like the Bible accounts of old, that the Apostle would visit our tiny village at Sauniatu and through their faith he would be impressed to greet each child with a personal handclasp.”

Tears could not be restrained as the precious boys and girls walked shyly by and whispered softly to us the sweet Samoan greeting “talofa lava.” A profound expression of faith had been evidenced.

1 I’m glad you asked for a blessing, sweetheart. Daddy’s calling Brother Simon to come help.
2 I hope you don’t mind my coming, too, Mei Lin. When I heard that one of my girls was sick, I just couldn’t stay away.
I’m glad you came.
4 Thank you, Brother Simon. Thanks, Dad. When you put your hands on my head, I could feel your love.
5 And Heavenly Father’s and Jesus’ love too. The priesthood is their power, not ours, and they’ve revealed that it must always be used with love.
6 My head feels a little better already, and I feel a lot better inside.
So do I, sweetheart.
And so do I.

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.

Illustrations by Ben Simonsen
A couple of months ago in Young Women, we had a lesson on service where we learned about Mosiah 2:17, which says, “When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.”
I felt the Spirit so strong all that day, so I prayed all week for opportunities to make a difference and do something that someone truly needed. That week at school I found out that one of my friends was feeling sad and lonely and having difficulties with her school friends. I knew this could be an opportunity to serve.
So my other two friends and I decided to get her a little gift, leave it on her doorstep, and run. Then the next day as I was scrolling through my News Feed on Facebook, I noticed a post from the young woman we’d given the gift to, and my heart leaped in my chest. It read, “To the people who left the bag and card, thank you so much. It feels so good to know that three people love me for who I am and have got my back no matter what.”
Though it might have been a small act of kindness, what we did meant so much, not only to the girl but also to my friends and me as well. I’ve learned that the best way to find happiness is to bring happiness to those who need it.

My third account was written by a female faculty member who is a convert to the Church. It is a story of abuse and, what is more important, recovery from abuse. Abuse comes in many forms, including neglect, improper care, and abandonment, as well as verbal, mental, physical, spiritual, and sexual abuse. If anyone within the sound of my voice has suffered such abuse, I urge you to seek professional help and spiritual consolation. Recovery from abuse is a process that can take considerable time, much emotional energy, and deep faith. Forgiveness must be a goal of that recovery process, for, as one LDS psychologist has written, “Forgiveness is an opportunity to regain the internal peace of which evil has robbed us” (Wendy L. Ulrich, “When Forgiveness Flounders: For Victims of Serious Sin,” in Confronting Abuse, ed. Anne L. Horton, B. Kent Harrison, and Barry L. Johnson [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1993], p. 348).

This is the final faculty story I wish to share with you today. It is one person’s story of healing, of finding peace through forgiveness and gospel ordinances.

Alcohol addiction robbed my father of his wife, his four children, his job, his mother, and finally his life. Alcoholism doomed my parent’s marriage from the beginning. On their very first Christmas, Daddy got drunk and broke all the lights on the tree. My mother stayed with him for 19 years anyway, hoping to save the marriage for the sake of the children. I left home during my senior year of high school because I could not bear to witness the violence anymore. When Mommy saw that Daddy’s problem was destroying her children, she divorced him.

We wanted to love our dad, but he was often not himself. Under the bondage of alcohol, he was moody, physically violent, and verbally abusive. One time he kicked my brother with his steel-toed military boots. My brother was so badly bruised that he would not dress-out for his PE class at school. He got in trouble because the teacher did not know about our family background. We lived in terror. We never knew when Daddy would be sober or when he would be drunk. We felt relieved when he was gone.

We each suffered the consequences of Daddy’s curse in different ways, but we all tried to forgive him. At the age of 18, I found peace and forgiveness in the doctrines and ordinances of the gospel. A year after the death of my father, I arranged for my home teachers to be the proxies for his temple work. Before my mission, I gathered all the family history documents from my grandpa’s house. After my mission, I started doing the temple work for my father’s family. In 1979, I did the temple work for my grandma and felt her gratitude. The following year, I went to the temple with some of my family home evening brothers and sisters. We were proxies as my father was sealed to his parents. I cried, and the brother who did the sealings said that the spirits of my family members were present. Temple work is the key to family healing and forgiveness. Doing the temple work for my father helped to set him free from bondage, which helped to set his parents free. Doing temple work also sets me free, one name at a time.

This sister knew more hurt in the span of her first two decades of life than many of us will ever know. But through the Atonement of Christ, the plan of salvation, and the act of forgiveness, she has come to know that peace “which passeth all understanding” (Philippians 4:7). This is the peace that living the gospel brings. She understands what it means to sing “Savior, may I love my father / As I know thou lovest me.”

Clare Magee has lots of friends. One of her best friends is her mother, Sue. They enjoy working in the kitchen together, where they often make one of Clare’s favourite treats, banana sandwiches.
She is also best friends with her sisters, Sara and Emma, who help her get ready for dance concerts. Clare (11) has been dancing since she was four years old; she is also good friends with her dance instructor, Sharon Moore. Sharon’s dance school has been featured on the BBC, a British television network.
Another of Clare’s best friends is her father, William. He’s a firefighter, and she loves to go with him to the station, just down the street from their home, to see the big fire engines. “The firefighters let my dad and me climb up in the engine, and they don’t even say anything!”
She and her father often take their dog, Wags, out for a walk. He’s one of her best friends too. “We rescued him from the pound. He was an abandoned pup, only twelve weeks old. His tail hasn’t stopped wagging since we first met. That’s why he’s named Wags.”
As a family, the Magees like to go bowling, go to the cinema (movies), spend summers at the seaside, and go camping. “It’s a wonderful thing to spend time with your family, because they are your eternal friends,” Clare says.
Her father is the bishop of the Portadown Ward, Belfast Northern Ireland Stake. Her parents have taught her a lot about other friends, like the Prophet Joseph Smith and the living prophet, President Ezra Taft Benson. She has learned of great heroes and heroines in the scriptures; and, most of all, she has been taught about the Saviour, Jesus Christ, and about Heavenly Father. “I know I can trust Heavenly Father and Jesus. When I say my prayers, I know they are heard.”
Clare also likes Primary, where she has been excited to learn about temples. “The Church is building a new temple near Preston, England, and I know I’ll be going there someday.”
The Magees live on a busy street in a house next door to a chemist shop (drugstore). Her family could have moved to the countryside, buy they decided that they like their neighbours and that it was important to have good friends where they live, so they stayed put. “Our neighbours and friends accept us as a Mormon family,” her father says. “They are kind to us, and we try to be kind to them.”
Clare makes friends wherever she goes. She has friends she met in Brownies and in Girl Guides. She has friends she’s made while swimming or playing field hockey. And she has friends she knows from doing a pantomime show at the local town hall, where her mother helped make costumes for everyone in the cast.
When her mother learned that some of the cast members had questions about the Church, she invited them to visit the Portadown Ward meetinghouse. While they were there, many of them and their mothers noticed pictures of the Saviour and learned how deeply Latter-day Saints love the Lord. “Some of them didn’t know that Mormons are Christians,” Clare’s mother explains. “Now they understand that we are.”
Does Clare have some secret that helps her in making all these friends?
“I just remember that we’re all children of the same God, ” she says, “so that means we’re all brothers and sisters.”
And that’s not really a secret.

At the rear of the sun-drenched chapel, behind the last row of chairs, a man squats on the floor happily bottle-feeding a baby. It’s not his baby. He’s just “borrowed” it from its mother. It gives her a chance to concentrate on the Gospel Doctrine lesson and gives him the pleasure of cradling a baby in his arms.
The man is Wisit Khanakam, president of the Chiang Mai District, Thailand, and the loving care he gives the baby is typical of the loving care he gives the five hundred members in the three branches he serves.
The members know that President Khanakam lives the gospel principles he teaches. In his home the day before, he said, “If there is one thing that helps me and my family stay active in the Church, it is living the gospel. That’s not just praying, not just studying the scriptures, not just serving in a calling, but applying all the gospel principles to our daily lives.
“For example, the Church teaches us how to build love and unity in the family—mother and father and the children helping each other. Just like today,” he says, “my wife had to go to work this afternoon. I had to work in the morning, but I came home in the afternoon to care for our two children, do some laundry, and wash the dishes.”
As he speaks, his seven-year-old daughter, Wisuchalak (nicknamed Buang), sleepily walks into the room from an afternoon nap. Seeing her father is busy, she turns on the television. Although she chooses a children’s program, it contains some rather frightening animation. Her father walks over to her, puts his arm around her, quietly explains that the program really isn’t suitable for her to watch, and successfully encourages her to go outside and play with her eight-year-old brother, Wisoodthiporn, or Ben. “We call him Ben after King Benjamin in the Book of Mormon,” explains President Khanakam.
“There are many things to do in the home,” he says. “It is the activities we do together as a family that help build our testimonies and strengthen us spiritually. For example, my wife is very good at preserving the oranges and mangoes we grow. We get the children involved in gathering the fruit and preparing it for storage. We also work together to keep family records—individual journals, as well as a family history.”
Teachers by profession, President and Sister Khanakam used family prayer and their training to help their son overcome what appeared to be a learning disability. “His teachers said he was very slow intellectually, and so we first thought of providing him with a tutor at home. But then we prayed about the problem, and we realized that the best teachers for our son were his mother and father. Our decision, based on the answer to our prayers, is turning out well. Ben is happy that his mother and father understand his needs and want to help him. As we help him with his school work, he is improving and learning faster. And it gives us the opportunity to grow closer together.”
The closeness of the family now is in contrast to the separation that employment forced upon Brother and Sister Khanakam after they were married in 1981. “A month after our marriage, we were sealed in the Tokyo Temple. When we came home, I returned to Chiang Mai, where I had a good-paying teacher’s position, and my wife returned to her family home in Mahasarakham 830 kilometers away. We lived that way for about a year. But the full-time missionaries would keep asking me, ‘Wisit, do you have the faith the Lord will bless you if you keep your temple covenants? You need to be with your wife.’
“So I quit my job in Chiang Mai and found one in Mahasarakham. I was earning less than half what I had made in Chiang Mai. That’s when we learned to apply welfare principles in our family. We learned how to budget our income, to work with our hands, and to raise a family in the gospel.
“I was called as president of the Mahasarakham branch, and my wife was called as Relief Society president. I was the only male member in the branch. It took a couple of years for the membership to grow. Now they have a chapel of their own—not because of anything we did, but because of the love and unity that the people there have.”
Before moving to Mahasarakham, Brother Khanakam served as Chiang Mai District President, a calling he received again when he returned to Chiang Mai three years ago to teach at the local high school.
The Khanakams live in a house outside the city of Chiang Mai on family property that contains fruit trees and about three acres of rice paddy. “We hire some people to grow the rice and then give the crop to my mother.”
His relationship with his mother is greatly improved from the days twenty years ago when he first made contact with Latter-day Saint missionaries.
He was introduced by a friend to the English language classes the missionaries presented. That led to the discussions and an invitation to attend Church.
“I attended the investigators’ class. What I heard there made little sense to me at first. I was an active Buddhist in a family of active Buddhists. But the name of Jesus touched my heart. I remember as a boy hearing Protestant missionaries talk of Jesus and Christianity. My parents and relatives did not like Christians and they said harsh things about them and about Jesus. I couldn’t help but wonder about this man Jesus. What happened to him? Why did my family talk only of bad things about him?
“So when the missionaries talked to me of Jesus, I decided to invite them to my cousin’s home where I was living while going to school. He and his family listened to some of the discussions, but then stopped.
“I continued with the discussions and with attending church, and I finally gained a testimony.
“I was baptized when I was eighteen years old.
“When I told my mother that I had been baptized, she became very upset, and she cut me from the family. I was the ‘baby’ in the family, with three older brothers and an older sister. From that time on, I suffered a great deal of persecution from my family, and I left home.
“Knowing of my situation, the branch president wisely counseled me that if I loved God I would want to obey his commandments and show love and respect for my parents. The Lord would bless me, the president said, if I would return home and be an example of Christian living to my family.
“When I went home, my mother said, ‘What do you need? A mattress, pillows, or anything? I’ll give them to you, but you can’t stay here with us.’
“But I told her I loved her and my father and my brothers and my sister, and I wanted to stay. The family was very upset, and no one would talk to me. But apart from going to school, I stayed home and worked very hard doing whatever I could around the house, or around the property.
“When I completed high school I wanted to go to the university. My mother said, ‘Tell me you are not a Mormon and I will let you go to the university. If you tell me you are a Mormon, you will never go to school.’ I said, ‘Mother, I am a Mormon.’ ‘That’s enough,’ she said.
“I didn’t even try to take the entrance examination.”
Instead, Brother Khanakam studied at the English Language Center in Chiang Mai, and eventually he successfully applied for a position with an American professor studying in Thailand. Later, with his mother’s approval, he attended the university in Bangkok for almost four years.
“Although my father died at this time, the university was a good experience for me. But I always made sure that the campus activities would not interfere with my church attendance. My friends urged me to serve a mission. Although I didn’t have a personal testimony of being a missionary, I encouraged others to go.
“After the university, I taught in public schools to earn some money and then decided I would go on a mission. When I told my mother, she was very, very angry with me. She contacted her attorney and had me cut from her will. She told me, ‘Choose what you want: your family or your church.’ I told her I wanted to serve a mission for the Lord. ‘All right,’ she said, ‘but you’ll get no support from the family.’”
Brother Khanakam served in the Thailand Bangkok Mission, where he had “many good experiences.” One of these experiences involved his mother and his sister. They were visiting in Bangkok, and Brother Khanakam invited them to a fireside where Elder Jacob de Jager of the Seventy was speaking.
“I was asked to be his interpreter. I knelt with him and prayed for my family. In his talk, Elder de Jager made some complimentary comments about my family. I looked at my mother, and she was crying. Even my sister, who had been so opposed to my joining the Church that she almost shot me, was crying, too. After the fireside my mother said if there was anything she could do to support me on my mission I was to let her know. I know that she was touched that day by the Spirit.
“My relationship with my family is good now. They love me, and they love my wife and children. My mother lives in a house close to us.”
While on his mission, Brother Khanakam first met a newly called lady missionary, Sumamaan Srisarakham. Three years after his mission, he made contact with her again through a mutual friend, and they began a correspondence. When they started talking of marriage, Sister Srisarakham prayed for guidance and felt as though “the Savior’s hand was on my head confirming my decision to marry and have a family.”
Currently, Sister Khanakam serves as the district Relief Society president and teaches a Primary class in the Chiang Mai Branch.
“What we do within the four walls of our home is most important to us and to those we can influence for good,” says President Khanakam. “For example, a neighboring couple has been taking the missionary discussions and now permits their son to attend church with us. This has come about because they liked what they saw in us as a family. As a family, as Latter-day Saints everywhere, we can perfect our lives through living the gospel.”