Gospel Story Finder

And I remember hearing in New Zealand many years ago the testimony of a man from the far side of Australia who, having been previously sealed by civil authority and then joined the Church with his wife and children, had traveled all the way across that wide continent, then across the Tasman Sea to Auckland, and down to the temple in the beautiful valley of the Waikato. As I remember his words, he said, “We could not afford to come. Our worldly possessions consisted of an old car, our furniture, and our dishes. I said to my family, ‘We cannot afford to go.’ Then I looked into the faces of my beautiful wife and our beautiful children, and I said, ‘We cannot afford not to go. If the Lord will give me strength, I can work and earn enough for another car and furniture and dishes, but if I should lose these my loved ones, I would be poor indeed in both life and in eternity.’”

Carl (names have been changed) had recently been assigned to minister to Gus. Trying to find some common ground, Carl learned that Gus shared his interest in writing. So Carl invited him to go to the meeting of a local writers’ group. In the end, neither of them ever had time for the group, but the invitation led to a great conversation, which led to going to lunch together every few weeks—which helped form a friendship that Gus could rely on when later he needed help.

Kacey doesn’t remember the accident that took his legs and changed his life. He remembers attending a sacrament meeting as a six-year-old with his cousins in rural Utah. He remembers waiting to cross the highway between the church and his grandmother’s house. And he remembers waking up in the hospital—without his legs.
His parents, on the other hand, probably wish they could forget. As they waited for an 18-wheeler to pass so the family could cross, Kacey suddenly darted into the highway to catch up with his brother, who had crossed moments earlier. Kacey almost made it.
“He shouldn’t have lived,” says Julene McCallister, Kacey’s mom.
“He had zero blood pressure,” his father, Bernie, says. “He lost massive amounts of blood.”
But then the miracles began. Amazingly, local paramedics had recently learned emergency procedures for treating critically injured children. And despite stormy December weather, Kacey made it—first by plane, then by helicopter—to one of the top children’s hospitals in the nation, where the medical staff was able to save him.
“It’s most definitely a miracle, a modern miracle,” says Brother McCallister.
“There’s some purpose Heavenly Father has him here for,” Sister McCallister says. “In the hospital, the Holy Ghost told me, ‘Sit back and watch Heavenly Father work.’ We’ve been watching the miracles ever since.”

Thomas B. Marsh ran away from home in New Hampshire at age 14. He worked as a farm laborer in Vermont; as a waiter in Albany, New York; at a hotel in New York City; then as a servant on Long Island. His circumstances were unstable until he met and married Elizabeth Godkin.
He and Elizabeth were eventually led by the Spirit to western New York. There, they heard about the Book of Mormon. Thomas saw copies of the first 16 pages as they came off the press, and the printer allowed him to read the proof sheet. Believing the book to be of God, Thomas chose to join the Church. He was baptized on September 3, 1830.3
Thomas preached the gospel in various areas. He endured tribulation when the Saints were ejected from Jackson County, Missouri, in November 1833. He was an original member of the Missouri high council when it was organized in July 1834. After his calling as an Apostle at age 34, he served as President of the Quorum of the Twelve. Though he had earnestly defended Joseph Smith against dissenters in the past, Thomas himself eventually became disillusioned. In 1838 he chose to leave the Church.4
From Thomas Marsh we can learn that unstable circumstances don’t need to keep us from the blessings of the gospel—or from blessing the lives of others.

Three of us were at another friend’s house, playing and watching television. A show came on that I was not allowed to watch. I watched for a few minutes, but I got a sick feeling inside. I wanted to be like my friends, so I tried to ignore the feeling. But the longer I watched, the worse I felt.
When I finally got up the courage and told them that I couldn’t watch the show, a funny thing happened. Two of my other friends said, “Oh, yeah, we can’t watch it, either.” The fourth friend got really mad and ran and locked himself in the bathroom. The three of us changed the channel and waited for him to cool off.
When I went home, I told my mom what had happened. She said that she was really proud of me because it must have been a hard thing to do, especially when I knew that my friend would be mad. She told me that the sick feeling I had had inside was the Holy Ghost trying to remind me to choose the right.
I’m glad that I stood up for what was right, because it helped my friends do the same. Even better than that, it got rid of the sick feeling inside me!

Since my wife and I didn’t believe in the dole system in any form of finance, we kept wondering how our young family could begin to become self-sufficient. It wasn’t long until we were offered an opportunity to collate and distribute advertising materials to 5,000 homes. We worked at the project after school, in the evenings, and on Saturdays. Everyone was involved in collating several pieces of advertising materials. Mom or dad assisted by driving the children to different locations and offering encouragement. The project was repeated several times. Our children were beginning to earn money, and we learned that we could have fun together while working.

When I left to serve a mission, my mother and sister were members of the Church. Six months later my mother wrote me a letter, saying, “I found an extra copy of the Book of Mormon in our home. Your father said I must have put my book in the wrong place. I’m so excited. Something is happening.” We later found out that four months after I left, my father stopped the missionaries in the street to ask them what a mission was like, where they ate and slept, how they were supported, and what their schedule was. He wanted to know why this Church was more important to me than anything else.
Eight months after I left, I received my first letter from my dad. He wrote, “On 2 December 2000, I was baptized. Little by little I learned about the gospel. I am so proud of you. I’m so proud of my girl who didn’t give up and pulled us onto this path.” By the time I finished my mission, all of my family members were converted to the gospel and many relatives and friends had decided to join the Church.

As Sister Holland and I recently disembarked at a distant airport, three beautiful young women getting off the same flight hurried up to greet us. They identified themselves as members of the Church, which wasn’t too surprising because those not of our faith usually don’t rush up to us in airports. In a conversation we hadn’t expected, we soon learned through their tears that all three of these women were recently divorced, that in each case their husbands had been unfaithful to them, and in each case the seeds of alienation and transgression had begun with an attraction to pornography.
With that stark introduction to my message today—one it is challenging for me to give—I feel much like Jacob of old, who said, “It grieveth me that I must use so much boldness of speech … before … many … whose feelings are exceedingly tender and chaste and delicate.”1 But bold we need to be. Perhaps it was the father in me or maybe the grandfather, but the tears in those young women’s eyes brought tears to mine and Sister Holland’s, and the questions they asked left me asking, “Why is there so much moral decay around us, and why are so many individuals and families, including some in the Church, falling victim to it, being tragically scarred by it?”
But, of course, I knew at least part of the answer to my own question. Most days we all find ourselves assaulted by immoral messages of some kind flooding in on us from every angle. The darker sides of the movie, television, and music industry step further and further into offensive language and sexual misconduct. Tragically, the same computer and Internet service that allows me to do my family history and prepare those names for temple work could, without filters and controls, allow my children or grandchildren access to a global cesspool of perceptions that could blast a crater in their brains forever.
Remember that those young wives said their husbands’ infidelity began with an attraction to pornography, but immoral activity is not just a man’s problem, and husbands aren’t the only ones offending. The compromise available at the click of a mouse—including what can happen in a chat room’s virtual encounter—is no respecter of persons, male or female, young or old, married or single. And just to make sure that temptation is ever more accessible, the adversary is busy extending his coverage, as they say in the industry, to cell phones, video games, and MP3 players.
If we stop chopping at the branches of this problem and strike more directly at the root of the tree, not surprisingly we find lust lurking furtively there. Lust is an unsavory word, and it is certainly an unsavory topic for me to address, but there is good reason why in some traditions it is known as the most deadly of the seven deadly sins.2
Why is lust such a deadly sin? Well, in addition to the completely Spirit-destroying impact it has upon our souls, I think it is a sin because it defiles the highest and holiest relationship God gives us in mortality—the love that a man and a woman have for each other and the desire that couple has to bring children into a family intended to be forever. Someone said once that true love must include the idea of permanence. True love endures. But lust changes as quickly as it can turn a pornographic page or glance at yet another potential object for gratification walking by, male or female. True love we are absolutely giddy about—as I am about Sister Holland; we shout it from the housetops. But lust is characterized by shame and stealth and is almost pathologically clandestine—the later and darker the hour the better, with a double-bolted door just in case. Love makes us instinctively reach out to God and other people. Lust, on the other hand, is anything but godly and celebrates self-indulgence. Love comes with open hands and open heart; lust comes with only an open appetite.
These are just some of the reasons that prostituting the true meaning of love—either with imagination or another person—is so destructive. It destroys that which is second only to our faith in God—namely, faith in those we love. It shakes the pillars of trust upon which present—or future—love is built, and it takes a long time to rebuild that trust when it is lost. Push that idea far enough—whether it be as personal as a family member or as public as elected officials, business leaders, media stars, and athletic heroes—and soon enough on the building once constructed to house morally responsible societies, we can hang a sign saying, “This property is vacant.”3
Whether we be single or married, young or old, let’s talk for a moment about how to guard against temptation in whatever form it may present itself. We may not be able to cure all of society’s ills today, but let’s speak of what some personal actions can be.
Above all, start by separating yourself from people, materials, and circumstances that will harm you. As those battling something like alcoholism know, the pull of proximity can be fatal. So too in moral matters. Like Joseph in the presence of Potiphar’s wife,4 just run—run as far away as you can get from whatever or whoever it is that beguiles you. And please, when fleeing the scene of temptation, do not leave a forwarding address.
Acknowledge that people bound by the chains of true addictions often need more help than self-help, and that may include you. Seek that help and welcome it. Talk to your bishop. Follow his counsel. Ask for a priesthood blessing. Use the Church’s Family Services offerings or seek other suitable professional help. Pray without ceasing. Ask for angels to help you.
Along with filters on computers and a lock on affections, remember that the only real control in life is self-control. Exercise more control over even the marginal moments that confront you. If a TV show is indecent, turn it off. If a movie is crude, walk out. If an improper relationship is developing, sever it. Many of these influences, at least initially, may not technically be evil, but they can blunt our judgment, dull our spirituality, and lead to something that could be evil. An old proverb says that a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step,5 so watch your step.
Like thieves in the night, unwelcome thoughts can and do seek entrance to our minds. But we don’t have to throw open the door, serve them tea and crumpets, and then tell them where the silverware is kept! (You shouldn’t be serving tea anyway.) Throw the rascals out! Replace lewd thoughts with hopeful images and joyful memories; picture the faces of those who love you and would be shattered if you let them down. More than one man has been saved from sin or stupidity by remembering the face of his mother, his wife, or his child waiting somewhere for him at home. Whatever thoughts you have, make sure they are welcome in your heart by invitation only. As an ancient poet once said, let will be your reason.6
Cultivate and be where the Spirit of the Lord is. Make sure that includes your own home or apartment, dictating the kind of art, music, and literature you keep there. If you are endowed, go to the temple as often as your circumstances allow. Remember that the temple arms you “with [God’s] power, … [puts His] glory … round about [you], and [gives His] angels … charge over [you].”7 And when you leave the temple, remember the symbols you take with you, never to be set aside or forgotten.
Most people in trouble end up crying, “What was I thinking?” Well, whatever they were thinking, they weren’t thinking of Christ. Yet, as members of His Church, we pledge every Sunday of our lives to take upon ourselves His name and promise to “always remember him.”8 So let us work a little harder at remembering Him—especially that He has “borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows … , [that] he was bruised for our iniquities … ; and with his stripes we are healed.”9 Surely it would guide our actions in a dramatic way if we remembered that every time we transgress, we hurt not only those we love, but we also hurt Him, who so dearly loves us. But if we do sin, however serious that sin may be, we can be rescued by that same majestic figure, He who bears the only name given under heaven whereby any man or woman can be saved.10 When confronting our transgressions and our souls are harrowed up with true pain, may we all echo the repentant Alma and utter his life-changing cry: “O Jesus, thou Son of God, have mercy on me.”11
Brothers and sisters, I love you. President Thomas S. Monson and the Brethren love you. Far more importantly, your Father in Heaven loves you. I have tried to speak today of love—real love, true love, respect for it, the proper portrayal of it in the wholesome societies mankind has known, the sanctity of it between a married man and woman, and the families that love ultimately creates. I’ve tried to speak of the redeeming manifestation of love, charity personified, which comes to us through the grace of Christ Himself. I have of necessity also spoken of el diablo, the diabolical one, the father of lies and lust, who will do anything he can to counterfeit true love, to profane and desecrate true love wherever and whenever he encounters it. And I have spoken of his desire to destroy us if he can.
When we face such temptations in our time, we must declare, as young Nephi did in his, “[I will] give place no more for the enemy of my soul.”12 We can reject the evil one. If we want it dearly and deeply enough, that enemy can and will be rebuked by the redeeming power of the Lord Jesus Christ. Furthermore, I promise you that the light of His everlasting gospel can and will again shine brightly where you feared life had gone hopelessly, helplessly dark. May the joy of our fidelity to the highest and best within us be ours as we keep our love and our marriages, our society and our souls, as pure as they were meant to be, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

But it’s not only in public ways that the gospel helps the youth in Alice Springs. For Ivan Munn, 18, the gospel has brought the reassurance that he can turn to the Lord for help.
“I’ve learned some things the hard way,” Ivan says. “I fell away from the Church, but now I’m back. I’ve stopped doing the bad things, and I’m working to show my love for the Lord. Repentance is a hard job, but it’s worth it.”
Ivan says Church friends have made a difference. “The youth here, the missionaries, the leaders—they’ve all helped me sort things out,” he says. “But faith in the Savior and in Heavenly Father is what keeps you going. The Book of Mormon talks about the servant and the master in the fruit fields [see Jacob 5]. It talks about cutting out the bad fruit so that good fruit can come forth. I think that symbolizes my life. With the Lord’s help, I’ve cut away the bad fruit. I believe the good fruit is starting to come forth.”

One evening several years ago, my wife and I were visiting the home of one of our sons and his wife and children for dinner. It was a typical event for a family with small children: there was much noise and even more fun. Shortly after dinner our four-year-old granddaughter, Anna, and I were still sitting at the table. Realizing that she had my full attention, she stood up straight on a bench and fixed her eyes on me. When she was sure that I was looking at her, she solemnly ordered me to “watch and learn.” She then danced and sang a song for me.
Anna’s instruction to “watch and learn” was wisdom from the mouth of a babe. We can learn so much by watching and then considering what we have seen and felt. In that spirit, let me share with you a few principles I have observed by watching and learning from wonderful, faithful marriages. These principles build strong, satisfying marriages that are compatible with heavenly principles. I invite you to watch and learn with me.

When an airline reservation agent asked a member of the Church for an email address, the member answered, “ldschurch.org.”
“What church is that?” the agent asked.
“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” the member answered.
“I go to work for days at a time without ever being able to speak about the Lord,” the agent said. “Knowing that I am speaking to another Christian just makes my day.”
The Church member quickly updated his airline profile with the Church’s new email address: ChurchofJesusChrist.org.1

Jennifer shut her bedroom door and threw herself on the bed. She wiped the hot, wet tears from her cheeks and tried to quiet her sobs.
She had just argued with her older brother and sister. Mom and Dad had left to go to the grocery store, and it felt like they would never come home.
Jennifer felt horrible. As much as she tried to stop her lip from trembling, she still felt very unhappy. “If Mom and Dad were home, things would feel a lot better,” she thought.
Then Jennifer remembered something she had learned about prayer in Primary. “You can pray anytime,” her Primary teacher had said. “You can pray when you feel happy and when you feel sad.”
Jennifer knelt beside her bed. She threw the blanket over her head so that she wouldn’t be interrupted if someone opened the door. She dried her tears again, folded her arms, and began to pray.
“Heavenly Father,” she said, “please forgive me for fighting with my brother and sister today. And please help me to feel better. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Now Jennifer didn’t feel like crying anymore. Slowly, the hurt feeling inside changed into a warm, peaceful feeling. She felt as good and as loved as if someone were giving her a hug.
When her parents came home later, Jennifer had apologized and was playing with her brother and sister again. As Mom walked through the door, Jennifer ran and gave her a hello hug. A hug from Mom felt wonderful, but Jennifer had learned that even when Mom wasn’t home, she could feel the comforting love of Heavenly Father.

When his mission ended Barnard looked for work again. Not fish odors this time but pungent cow barn aromas became part of his new lot in life. He ventured into the New York countryside where farmers, he had heard, needed milkers for cows. “Can you milk?” they asked the English boy. “No,” he answered honestly, thereby losing the job. One time, desperate for work, he changed his answer to “I think I can” and was hired. But when he sat on the wrong side of the cow and could get no milk from it, the supervising lady accused him of lying. “I only said I thought I could,” he answered. She liked his forthrightness so taught him how to milk. He traded city-boy clothes for farm workers’ apparel. Mother, he knew, would cringe to see him dressed in dumpy work clothes and rough leather work boots.
Farm hours were long and the work hard. Barnard’s days started at 3:00 A.M. and ended after dark. But he earned some needed pocket money. And, more important, his body developed strength and endurance—strength he would need to avoid disaster later that year in Wyoming.
On June 20, 1856, the anchor of the Mormon charter ship Horizon had barely plopped into Boston Harbor when a small sailboat tied up next to her. Barnard, hoping to welcome his family to America, climbed aboard from the sailboat. Mother White spotted her son, started to rejoice, but gulped when she saw his clothes. Eighteen-year-old sister Elizabeth was shocked too and broke into tears: “My poor brother Barnard!” she sobbed. “What have they done to you?” No broadcloth suit. No silk hat. Common laborer’s pants and shirt. Ugly work boots. However, the reunion soon showed the Whites that their teenager had become a man during his 11 months in America, and they liked his maturity.
Soon, click-clattering train cars carried the Whites and other English Saints to the Mormon Trail outfitting point in Iowa City, Iowa. Here Barnard’s work clothes suited frontier life well, more so than his fastidious family’s foolish fashions. That first night in Iowa gave Barnard’s boots their first frontier test. According to sister Elizabeth, the Saints had to hike four miles from the train to the campground:
“We all started, about 500 of us, with our bedding. We had not gone far before it began to thunder and lightning and the rain poured. The roads became very muddy and slippery. It was late in the evening before we arrived at the camp. We all got very wet. The boys [including Barnard] got our tent up, so we were fixed for the night, although very wet.”
During the days that followed, most Saints busied themselves building handcarts. But not the Whites. Barnard felt a touch of social superiority when his mother clinked gold coins into agents’ hands to pay for a sturdy wagon and team. Barnard, the man of the family, became the White’s teamster and boss of four oxen, two cows, and one good wagon.
The Whites joined the John A. Hunt wagon train, a Mormon company of 50 wagons and 240 people. The train carried some baggage for the handcart companies. Like too many groups that year, they started late and gambled they could thread their way to Utah before winter storms struck. They left Iowa City on August 1 and reached Florence, Nebraska, by September 1. “The family had to walk,” Elizabeth said, “except when we went through water. We would travel from 15 to 20 miles per day.” Walking, they discovered, quickly wore out shoes and boots. If winter waited the Whites hoped to see Utah by early November. But winter came early that year.
Near Fort Laramie in Wyoming a buffalo herd stampeded the train’s cattle. Elizabeth said that Mrs. Walters, driving the team ahead of the White’s, “was knocked down and trampled by oxen. She never spoke but died in a few minutes, leaving a young baby. This affair cast a gloom over our camp. She was sewed in a blanket and buried.” (Barnard later married one of the Walters girls.)
On October 19th the Hunt wagons caught up with the Martin handcart pioneers in mid-Wyoming. “Many of them were quite worn out,” Barnard noted. That evening the Hunt, the Martin, and the Hodgett wagon train companies marshalled courage and crossed the frigid Platte River. Of the harrowing crossing Elizabeth recalled: “Our company camped on the east side and the handcart company passed over that night. All our able-bodied men turned out to help them carry women and children across the river. Some of our men went through the river 75 times.” By then Barnard’s leather boots probably had been soaked, frozen, and thawed many times.
That night many of the soaked river-crossers suffered severely from the cold. About seven inches of snow fell by morning. “Their suffering was intense that night,” Barnard said of the handcart Saints. “The next morning there were 13 dead bodies in camp.”
For a week the companies camped, waiting for the snow blanket to melt and icy winds to stop. The handcart people, tired and overexposed to snow and cold, sagged. “They would rather die than live,” Barnard observed. “They appeared to be like a lot of worn-out cattle and had no feeling for anything except to eat and die. I cannot find language to express the sufferings of those people, and God forbid that I should ever witness such scenes again.” The Hunt train shared its dwindling food with the handcart sufferers.
Snow buried plants and grasses. “Our cattle were drooping for want of food,” Barnard said, “and from this time on we had to cut down trees for them to browse upon and still they died off fast.” Sometimes stinging winds blew snows off the ground, exposing precious grass for the starving cattle. Sometimes Barnard chopped crusted willows to feed the White’s team. When cows died their tough meat was added to the travelers’ shrinking diets. At one point, Elizabeth said, her ration of flour was reduced to one tablespoon per day! Mixed with snow water it made a very thin gruel for hungry teenagers like Elizabeth and Barnard.
The companies decided that to survive they must keep moving. They started West again. On November 1 another snowstorm mixed with rain slowed them down. One night after dark, whoops and yells awoke the Whites and terrified the shivering campers. “Indians!” someone shouted. But, once awake, the camp discovered that their noisy invaders were a relief party from Utah, sent by President Brigham Young, with wagonloads of food. New shouts of happiness muffled across the night-covered, snow-covered plains. “They were loaded with all kinds of provisions,” Elizabeth said of the wagons, “flour, bread, butter, meat of all kinds, but frozen very hard. Everything was so good. The bread was like cake, so sweet and nice.” They had to cut everything with hatchets to cook or eat it. “Oh, how thankful we were that the Lord had answered our prayers and saved us from starvation,” she said. Baking fires burned through the night.
On November 5 the Hunt train reached the rundown log shelters at Devil’s Gate and could move no further. Snow stood eight to ten inches deep—to the tops of Barnard’s boots—and hemmed the travelers in. Hundreds set up camp there. The ground froze so hard Barnard could not pound tent pegs in, so he secured the tent edges with piles and chunks of heavy snow.
By then “three of our oxen and one cow had died,” Elizabeth said. “We had nothing to burn, only the sage brush from under the snow.” Some dilapidated cabins became firewood. Barnard, Elizabeth, and other youths tried to make the best of their dangerous situation at Devil’s Gate. One night, according to Elizabeth, “when we had made the campfires, the boys had cleared the snow away and several of us young folks were sitting around the fire singing.”
The rescuers, trying to outrace disaster, organized a survival push from Devil’s Gate to Utah. Carefully they loaded the very ill into Utah wagons and then recruited older girls, including Elizabeth, to ride along as nurses. Reluctantly she left her mother and family, and lonesomeness plagued her for weeks. Mostly she rode, but when the wagons ascended mountains she had to walk. At the foot of Big Mountain, a day away from Salt Lake City, snows stood so deep she had to put on men’s boots. Taller people walked in each other’s tracks, but Elizabeth was too short: “I had to make my own road up, frequently falling down as the snow was so deep and drifted.” When they reached the summit and could see Salt Lake Valley below, Elizabeth said, “the men took off their hats and we waved our handkerchiefs.” She reached the city safely on November 30, two weeks ahead of her family, and stayed with friends.
Meanwhile, back at Devil’s Gate, the Utah rescuers reorganized wagon and handcart companies. Many carts and half the wagons had to be parked for the winter. “Leave your stoves, boxes, and tools here,” the Whites were told; “only take along sufficient clothing and bedding to keep you warm.” For four days Barnard and others unloaded wagons and stored belongings in the old log buildings. Carefully he cached his mother’s china set, dated 1775, and her silver tea set. (Family records do not say if these treasures were ever recovered.) “We only saved one ox and one cow of our team,” Barnard said. “We were disabled and left our wagon and all our trunks and baggage.” The Whites then climbed into Brother J. H. Newman’s wagon to finish the trip. Some men were “volunteered” to winter at Devil’s Gate to guard the piles of baggage, but not Barnard.
Grouped into smaller wagon trains, the rescued travelers rolled slowly southwestward, farther into mountain country. Barnard lived on rations of one-fourth pound of flour per day and cattle that faltered. “We would knock them in the head and cut their throats and take the best meat,” he said. (What would his cultured teenage friends in London have thought if they had seen him then?)
The White’s group of wagons reached Fort Bridger in southwest Wyoming by December 4. There, Barnard said, “we were forced to camp as our teams were all dead.” For three days they waited and hungered. “I shall never forget the feelings of my mother,” he recalled. “She called us together and said she had never seen her dear children cry for bread before, but said the Lord would open the way and send us some provisions.” That night 14 relief wagons rolled into camp. “The wagons were loaded with flour,” Barnard said. “I will leave you to judge our feelings!” Baking fires roared through the night once again.
More rescue teams came and helped the wagon trains into Utah. Referring to his nightly camps Barnard said: “We would clear away the snow and pile some logs up and set them on fire. They would burn all night and helped to keep us from freezing.” Ascending Big Mountain he found snow drifted 20 feet deep in places. “We had to cut channels as much as ten feet deep,” he said. But what made this final part of the trip so difficult for the teenager was that “I had no shoes or boots on; my feet were in rags.”
On December 13 at 4 P.M. Barnard and his family stepped from Brother Newman’s wagon into the tithing yard in Salt Lake City. Barnard felt both pleased and humiliated—pleased to be safe and alive but humiliated to walk down the city’s streets dressed in ragged clothes and with flannel rags wrapped around his painful feet. No doubt he recalled then the fancy broadcloth suit and silk hat he donned 18 months before when leaving England for Zion. Utahns, he noticed, “wept like children to see our pale, emaciated, and careworn bodies, for we were quite worn out and had but little strength left.”
What had happened to Barnard’s work boots? They had succumbed to his appetite! While trapped by Wyoming snows Barnard had cut off strips from his worn-out boots and chewed the leather to ease the sharp hunger pains in his stomach—for as his biographer points out, “who can be hungrier than a 16-year-old trying to do the work of a man?”
In Utah Elizabeth married Bishop Isaac M. Stewart and bore 11 children. Barnard served in the Echo Canyon military campaign, settled in Paradise, Utah, and married Elizabeth Ann Walters. In time he became a prominent Ogden lumberman, farmer, rancher, and enterpriser, and a bishop and patriarch. Mother White lived for many years, residing with her children.

Mr. Cooper says that he’s going to be baptized but won’t say when. I hope that it’s before my mission is over two weeks from now. But even though I’d like to be with him then, the important thing is that he get baptized when he’s ready.
Great news! Frank Cooper was baptized yesterday! And last night he gave a party to celebrate and invited a lot of his friends and the members of the ward. He said that it was also a farewell party for me. At the party, we made an appointment to visit one of his nonmember friends. I wish that I could go to that appointment with Elder Butler, but I’ll be home by then.

Jim was an old-timer. He had been an ironworker for over 30 years and had worked on about every type of job in the trade, which gave him a rich background of experience. He had walked narrow beams hundreds of feet off the ground and moved or crawled to the end of beams to make the connections thousands of times. Connectors are supreme among ironworkers. They take the greatest risk, and their job requires the greatest courage. Jim was admired by his peers as a man of great courage and stability.

One day he was working with a crew of ironworkers on a job in the rugged mountains of the Colorado Rockies when a storm struck without warning. The rain poured down, the lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and the wind blew with fury. The ironworkers quickly climbed down and gathered in their work shack to wait for the storm to end.

They had been there for about fifteen minutes when someone asked, “Where’s Jim?” He wasn’t in the shack. They went outside and looked up at the steel structure. There he was, standing on a beam with his arms wrapped tightly around a steel column. They called but got no response, so two of the crew went up the framework and found him frozen in panic. His arms were so tightly clenched around the column that they had to pry him loose. Then they fastened him to a cable and lowered him to the ground. He was terrified with fear.

They took him into the shack and warmed him by the fire. An hour later the storm was over, the weather was calm, the sun shone brightly, and the birds sang in the trees. The crew started back to work, but Jim stayed behind. He had lost his nerve and was afraid to get back in the air.

The foreman recognized the problem. It was not something for Jim to be ashamed of. It happens to the best of men. The situation needed wise care and attention. If Jim didn’t get back in the air now, he never would. The fury of the storm combined with the risk of his trade had broken the spirit of an old-timer. He alone could mend the damage. But he needed a helping hand as he had never needed one before.

The wise foreman put his arm around Jim and said that what had happened to him could happen to any one of them. The foreman told Jim to get back to work and assured him of his complete confidence that he could do so. Jim knew that the foreman was right. Every ironworker knows he has to go back. Jim knew he had to do it now. It would be even more difficult tomorrow if he didn’t go back today, and within a week it would be impossible. Finally, he demanded of himself that he get up on the steel structure and go to work. His legs felt weak and his body shaky. As he climbed the steel and cautiously proceeded to carry on, the members of the crew gave him a rousing cheer. That gave him the strength and confidence he needed.

Jim went to work, and as he strove to keep pace with the others in the crew, he gradually regained his self-confidence. Had the foreman not been understanding or had the other members of the crew been critical, he would likely have been unable to return to work. Jim learned that his fellow workers were his true friends, for they had understood and given him support in a time of dire need.

One Sunday morning Ho-jik Kim was teaching a Sunday School class when the president of Korea, Syngman Rhee, sent his secretary to get him. Dr. Kim was the vice minister of education at the time, and President Rhee wanted to discuss an important matter with him.

Arriving at the LDS meetinghouse, the secretary found Dr. Kim in Sunday School and urged him to go at once to see the president. Brother Kim said he could not leave until he had taught his Sunday School lesson.

Afterward, when Brother Kim met with the president, he was criticized for being late. Dr. Kim explained to the president the importance of his calling as a Sunday School teacher. President Rhee, realizing how much the Church meant to Dr. Kim, patted him on the shoulder and said, “Chalhaeso!” (You have done well!)

My wife and I have personally experienced some sacred mountain moments in reverence as we have strived to apply these principles in our life, which has caused a meaningful transformation in our discipleship. I remember like it was yesterday walking through the cemetery before burying our second child, who was born prematurely and did not survive, while my wife was still recovering in the hospital. I recall praying to God with great fervency and reverence, asking for help to cope with that challenging trial. In that instant, I received a clear and powerful spiritual assurance in my heart: Everything will be fine in our lives if my wife and I endure, holding on to the joy that comes from living the gospel of Jesus Christ. What seemed like an overwhelming, sorrowful challenge at the time turned into a sacred, reverent experience, a capstone that has helped sustain our faith and has given us confidence in the covenants we have made with the Lord and in His promises for me and my family.

Butch and Diana Alder, from Sandy, Utah, are serving as senior missionaries in the Australia Melbourne Mission. Warrnambool holds a special place in Elder Alder’s heart, as his great-great-grandparents, John and Charlotte Nye, joined the Church there.
The Nyes were introduced to the Church of Jesus Christ in 1856 by George Thomas Wilson, the local veterinarian, when he came to their home to treat their prized horse. Conversation turned to the gospel of Jesus Christ, and Brother Wilson invited the couple to learn more. At the time of their baptism, the nearest established congregation of the Church was in Sydney.
Elder Meurs told the story of his parents, who lived in the area, joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1958.
Fred and Lois Meurs, strong Christians from different faiths were actively searching for someone to answer their gospel questions. After carefully studying the New Testament, they began to search for a church that had teachings that were consistent with Jesus’s teachings.
They had questions about the purpose of life, priesthood authority, what happens when we die, ordinances like baptism, and the role of prophets and apostles. They had spoken to the religious leaders of the community, but no one could give them the answers they were searching for. They began to earnestly pray for someone to answer their questions.
That same week, two full-time missionaries, Elder Jones and Elder Erikson, knocked on their door and said they had a message about Jesus Christ to share with them. Fred and Lois asked them all their questions, and the missionaries answered every one. Three weeks later the Meurs were baptised and confirmed. Some other families joined soon after, and the first Warrnambool Branch was formed.
As the Church grew, new members moved in, and others moved out.
“Many wonderful people, over the years, have been touched by the wonderful association with the Warrnambool Branch and have very fond memories,” Elder Meurs said. “Faith has been strengthened, and people have become part of the Church of Jesus Christ here on the earth. They have felt the Saviour’s teachings and His presence in their lives.”
Elder Meurs, quoting President Russell M. Nelson’s remarks from the October 2024 general conference said, “My dear brothers and sisters, in a coming day, Jesus Christ will return to the earth as the millennial Messiah. So today I call upon you to rededicate your lives to Jesus Christ. I call upon you to help gather scattered Israel and to prepare the world for the Second Coming of the Lord. I call upon you to talk of Christ, testify of Christ, have faith in Christ, and rejoice in Christ!” (“The Lord Jesus Christ Will Come Again,” Liahona, Nov. 2024).
Elder Meurs concluded his remarks by saying, “I testify that Jesus Christ lives. He knows each of us. Dedicate yourselves to living the gospel of Jesus Christ.”
Also in attendance was Damon Page, Area Seventy. Speaking to the branch members, he said:
“What will we raise here in the Warrnambool Branch? By following our faith and the promptings of the Spirit, we will touch those around us. We will raise up strong sons and daughters that will become more like our Father in Heaven and His Son, Jesus Christ.”
“How do we become who we want to be? Work is the secret. We must be willing to work for those things that will bring us closer to Jesus Christ.”
Karen Jones, a branch member since 1990, said, “The members lift and strengthen each other. Many members have passed away, but the remaining members have put their shoulder to the wheel and have helped the branch to push along. Warrnambool has given me strength, love, and hope.”
President Suringa said, “What is happening today is a manifestation of the Lord’s power. There are so many great things ahead.”

“When I was younger, my family moved across the country. With the help of others, we spent a day loading everything into a large trailer that my dad was going to pull behind our car. The morning we were supposed to leave, I was surprised to wake up and learn our move was delayed by a few days. My father had awoken in the middle of the night with a strong feeling that he was not to pull the trailer. Rather than rationalize away the impression, my dad followed the prompting and delayed our move. Instead, he hired a professional mover who put all of our belongings into one of their trucks.

“When we finally left, we encountered strong winds and overturned trucks and trailers along the way. Our family was grateful for our safety. Without words, my father taught me to have the courage to follow promptings from the Sprit, even when those promptings are inconvenient, even when they might not make sense. I have never forgotten that lesson.”

When I opened my mission call and learned I would serve an English-speaking mission in America, I was relieved. I struggled in vain to learn a language in high school, and I was glad I wouldn’t have to deal with that again in the MTC.
During my mission I served in a Samoan ward. Most of the members spoke English as well, so we could easily work with them.
Then my companion and I began to teach a part-member family who had been raised in Samoa and had just moved to America. When one of the girls asked me to perform her baptism, I felt impressed to learn how to say the baptism prayer in Samoan. I knew my weakness in learning other languages, but my love for her and her family overcame my fear.
That night I went to another member’s house so he could teach me how to say the prayer in Samoan. Despite 30 minutes of practicing, I left discouraged and frustrated because I had not gotten very far. That night I asked the Lord to bless me with the gift of tongues if He wanted me to say the baptism prayer in Samoan.
When I practiced the next morning, I quickly found I was not only able to say the baptism prayer, but also recite it from memory. The day of the baptism came, and I was able to say the baptism prayer in Samoan nearly perfectly. I felt the Spirit work through me. I know the Lord can work miracles for us if we have the faith and allow Him to work through us.