Gospel Story Finder

“I prayed with such a tiny seed of faith, and still I felt Their love.”
Theo’s dad is diabetic and has relied on a dialysis machine (a machine that cleans blood for those who have damaged kidneys) for the past 18 years. Growing up, it was hard for Theo to think of what the future might hold for his dad.
“When I was just starting high school, his health declined to the point where losing him became a very real possibility,” Theo says. “There was no stopping the fear and sadness of knowing that could happen.”
On top of this trial, Theo didn’t feel worthy enough to pray. “Church just wasn’t as important to me as it should be,” he says. “I didn’t think I was in the right mind-set.”
But when the day came that Theo thought his dad was ready to go, Theo felt a clear prompting that he needed to turn to God.
On the day he thought his father would die, Theo decided to get on his knees and pray. “I began that prayer not expecting a response. But instantly I felt comfort and strength.”
Today, Theo’s dad is still alive and defying all medical odds. Theo recognizes how big of a miracle that is, especially since a lot of people don’t survive illnesses like these. Most of all, he’s grateful he felt God’s love. “Heavenly Father and the Savior are so generous. I prayed with such a tiny seed of faith, and still I felt Their love.”

About those dinosaurs that need painting. The Ogden Weber Heights Stake wanted service to the community to be part of their youth conference. The city had been building a parkway along the river. One of the attractions was a dinosaur park with full-size replicas of several species of dinosaurs as they must have looked when they roamed the area. The trouble is, replicas have to stay out in the sun and snow, weather that can destroy paint jobs. So paint colors like brontosaurus brown and pterodactyl tan were soon speckling the clothes, faces, and hands of some willing painters. It’s hard to feel down when you’re hanging around the neck of a dinosaur with a paintbrush.

Then the whole stake planned a day to plant trees along the parkway. Jeff Walker, 16, from the Skyline Ward, said, “It’s nice to do something to help make our community look better. After the service project, I drove by with one of my friends. He said, ‘Man, that sure has been cleaned up a lot.’ I told him I helped with that.”

When asked what she would tell other teens in her ward and stake who were wavering about making the decision to participate, Dieuwke Stohel, 17, of the Grandview Ward said, “I would tell them, When you get done, the day cannot go wrong. Once you’re there, you’ll be really glad you went.”

My piano teacher is not a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but she knows that some of our members are called to play the organ. One time she encouraged me to audition for a scholarship to learn the organ. I decided to audition so that I could learn to play the organ in order to serve in church.
The morning of the audition, I woke up extremely sick. My mom said our family would be praying for me. When we got to the audition, my dad told the judges I wasn’t feeling very well. Before I began playing, I said a little prayer in my heart. I asked Heavenly Father for His help, especially if He wanted me to play the organ at church. As I began to play I felt as if someone else was playing. I didn’t feel sick but instead was just amazed to watch my fingers move. Before I knew it, I’d finished all my songs, and I don’t remember making any mistakes.
As soon as I got off the bench, the sickness returned and my dad took me home to rest. I slept all day until my mom woke me up that evening to tell me I’d won the scholarship. I know Heavenly Father wanted me to learn to play the organ and listened to my prayer. I’ve truly felt the Lord’s hand in my life. I’m so grateful for the talents He has blessed me with, because as I share them and use them to serve, He strengthens and blesses me.

New members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints cannot make it alone. They might appear to be as independently strong as the redwoods, but they need us and we need them. President Hinckley, in a satellite broadcast last February, shared the story of a woman who became a member last year. She wrote:
“‘My journey into the Church was unique and quite challenging. This past year has been the hardest year that I have ever lived in my life. It has also been the most rewarding. As a new member, I continue to be challenged every day.’
“She goes on to say that when she joined the Church she did not feel support from the leadership in her ward. Her bishop seemed indifferent to her as a new member. Rebuffed, as she felt, she turned back to her mission president, who opened opportunities for her.
“She states that ‘Church members don’t know what it is like to be a new member of the Church. Therefore, it’s almost impossible for them to know how to support us’” (“Find the Lambs, Feed the Sheep,” Liahona, July 1999, 122).

Our family was very involved in community and political efforts in support of the family, so we talked about these things often and had many robust conversations where opinions were shared and debated. As a result, each of our children grew confident in their own beliefs and their ability to express them.
For example, my youngest son took a biology class from a teacher who had been openly hostile to our beliefs. The teacher challenged him, “Does your mother know you’re in my class?”
“Yes, sir,” he responded.
About a month later I asked my son, “How is your biology class going?”
“Mom, the teacher challenges me every day,” he responded.
I was upset. “We can pull you out of that class immediately!” I said.
“No way, Mom,” he replied. “Every day he challenges my beliefs, and every day I repeat what I believe in,” he explained. “And almost every day someone comes up to me after class and thanks me. They say they believe like I do but are too afraid to say anything.”
I was so proud of him for being strong in the face of such direct challenges and questions.
At the end of the semester, the teacher approached him. “Well, I have to give you credit,” he said. “You have done a great job of standing up for what you believe.”
Having all of those family discussions had prepared him well.

As the years go by, I continue to reflect on the Sabbath days of my youth and young adulthood. I still remember the first day I passed the sacrament as a deacon and the little glass cups I passed to the members of our ward. A few years ago a Church building in my hometown was remodeled. A compartment in the pulpit had been sealed. When it was opened, there were some of these little glass cups that had remained hidden for years. One of them was presented to me as a memento.
As I think about those sacrament cups from my youth, one in the sheltered valley of my boyhood home and the other thousands of miles away in the Pacific, I am filled with gratitude that the Savior of the world was willing to drink from the “bitter cup”17 for my sake. And because He did, I can say with the Psalmist, “My cup runneth over”18 with the blessings of His infinite and eternal Atonement.

I love whole wheat pancakes. On my mission in Brazil, I bought a nice nonstick frying pan to cook them in. I also made sure that I had a plastic spatula so as not to scratch the pan.
About this same time, I received my first junior companion. One of the first things I did was show him my frying pan and plastic spatula, with specific instructions on how to use them. I didn’t mind him using them to fry an egg or something, but I didn’t want my pan ruined.
On our next preparation day, I heard my companion stirring something in the kitchen. I soon realized that he was frying an egg. I decided to peek in to see if he was following my instructions.
When I turned the corner, I just about had a heart attack. There he was, with the frying pan in one hand and a metal spoon in the other, trying to flip the egg. He was scraping and scratching, trying to get underneath the partially cooked egg, all the while destroying my frying pan.
Before I could yell, it hit me. It was an honest mistake. With help from above, I was able to calmly walk over to the drawer, pull out the spatula, and hand it to him, saying: “Here, use this. I think it will work better.” He thanked me and went on frying his egg.
Back in our room I realized that, as strange as it sounds, I had been “worshipping” that frying pan. For days, it had been more important to me than many other things, including my relationship with my new companion. It had been affecting the spirituality of our companionship. It had become my idol.
I’m so thankful that my Heavenly Father taught me an eternal truth through this small but powerful experience. I’ve come to better understand what the Lord meant when He said, “Thou shalt have no other gods before me” (Exodus 20:3)—including the nonstick kind.

I sat at Jeremy Johnson’s kitchen table, staring at a bowl of yucky-looking green soup that Jeremy’s mom had placed in front of me. My friend Jeremy had invited me to sleep over that night, and my dad had driven me to the Johnson’s house just in time for dinner.
“I hope that you like split-pea soup, Tyler,” Jeremy’s mom said, smiling.
“I’ve never had it before,” I told her. “But I know that I like corn bread,” I added as she set a plate of it on the table.
Jeremy started to eat his soup. I just stared into my bowl. The color of the soup reminded me of grasshoppers. I didn’t think that I could eat it.
When I looked up, Jeremy was watching me. “Mom, Tyler doesn’t have to eat the soup if he doesn’t like it, does he?” Jeremy asked.
“Of course not,” said Jeremy’s mom. “I could make you a bologna sandwich, Tyler.”
I shook my head. “No, that’s OK. I’ll probably like the soup,” I assured them. I was remembering what my mom had said about missionaries having to eat foods that they aren’t used to when they are guests in people’s houses. Once during her mission in France. Mom ate fried snails—something she had never even thought of as food. The family who served the snails thought that they were giving her a special treat, and she didn’t want to hurt their feelings. Jeremy and his Mom aren’t members of the Church, I thought, and I want to be a good missionary. If Mom can eat snails, I can eat this split-pea soup.
I said a silent but fervent blessing on the food and then, between big spoonfuls of soup, took gulps of milk. When I was done, I asked Mrs. Johnson to pass me the corn bread.
“Oh, you finished your soup already,” she noticed, glancing at my empty bowl. “I’m glad that you liked it so much. Have some more.” She spooned more split-pea soup into my bowl and passed me the plate of corn bread.
“Thank you,” I said, looking at the second bowl of green soup in dismay. “Can I please have some more milk too?”
After dinner, Jeremy and I jumped on the trampoline in his backyard. He showed me how to do a back flop. I practiced a few times, and pretty soon I got the hang of it. We took turns inventing tricks to do on the trampoline.
When we went inside, Jeremy’s mom helped us make popcorn to eat while we watched a baseball game on television. After the game, Mrs. Johnson said, “Time for bed, guys.” She got two sleeping bags from the garage and helped us spread them out in the living room. Before turning out the light, she kissed Jeremy and patted my arm. “We’re having pancakes for breakfast, Tyler. Do you like pancakes as much as you like split-pea soup and corn bread?”
“I love pancakes,” I told her.
Before going to sleep, Jeremy and I talked for a while. He told me about the year his baseball team won first place in the league. I told him about the time I broke my arm sliding into first base. Then I told him that my family was going to play softball together next Monday night and asked if he wanted to play with us.
“Sure,” he said, yawning. “Well, good night, Tyler.”
“Good night,” I said.
Then I remembered—I hadn’t said my prayers yet. I waited until I thought Jeremy was asleep, then wriggled out of the sleeping bag and knelt on top of it. I was hoping that Jeremy wouldn’t wake up. He would think that I was crazy, kneeling there on the sleeping bag in the dark.
“What are you doing?” Jeremy suddenly asked.
I couldn’t think of any good way to answer him, so I just blurted out, “I’m going to say a prayer.”
“Oh,” Jeremy said. “How come?”
“Well, … I pray every night,” I started to explain. I wanted to be a missionary, but I wasn’t sure how to explain prayer to Jeremy. Then I had an idea. “Hey, do you want to pray with me? I’ll say the words.”
“I guess so,” Jeremy said. He climbed out of his sleeping bag and knelt on top of it like I was doing. I folded my arms, bowed my head, and closed my eyes.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” I began. “Thank you for all our blessings. Thank you for my friend Jeremy. …” I finished the prayer and closed it in the name of Jesus Christ. We both climbed back into our sleeping bags.
“I’m glad that you got to sleep over tonight, Tyler,” Jeremy said as he rolled over to go to sleep.
“Me too,” I told him.

Cham Nap’s schooling, before he came to the United States four years ago, was very limited. As a child he attended kindergarten, but political unrest in Cambodia prevented him from attending any more school. In 1979, he went to Thailand with his aunt, uncle, and cousin to escape the war. There they lived in a refugee camp. Cham Nap has not seen or heard from his mother or brothers and sisters since then.

“In Thailand I went to school for about one month and learned to read and write a little Cambodian,” he explains. That’s also where his friends first told him about Jesus Christ and the LDS church.

Before coming to America, he and his relatives were sent to Indonesia for seven months to learn English. “I just learned the first words—‘hello,’ ‘how are you,’ and a few to use in the home.”

They arrived in the United States in 1981 and settled down in Salt Lake City. Cham Nap attended school with many other Southeast Asians at South High School. He had an LDS school teacher who invited him to go to church, and then she sent the missionaries to his home.

His friends in Thailand had told him the LDS church was a good church. “I heard that Mormons didn’t drink, and they went without food and water the first Sunday every month,” he says. “The missionaries taught me about the gospel. It made me excited because it’s so good. I wanted to clean my sins and be a good person.”

He had attended other churches, but he felt strongly that what the LDS missionaries taught him was true. He was baptized on October 23, 1982, in Salt Lake City. About that time he became friends with Delaures and Harold Harkness. Brother Harkness was a counselor in the presidency of the Cambodian Branch of the Salt Lake Park Stake. Cham Nap occasionally ate dinner with them, and they often gave him a ride to church.

During the summer, he would go to their home every Tuesday, and for half an hour to an hour he would struggle to read one chapter in the Book of Mormon. “We didn’t read a lot every time because it just seemed awfully hard for him,” Sister Harkness says. “I tried to explain what the words meant as we went along. Then we’d talk about what we read. It was hard for him to grasp at times.”

When Cham Nap first started going to church, he didn’t understand anything except for sacrament meeting, which was translated into Cambodian. But he kept on going because it made him happy. “Even though I didn’t understand in the classes, I felt the Spirit and I liked to go. Afterward I’d go to Sister Harkness and ask her questions and she would teach me.”

Cham Nap now lives with a foster family in Farr West, Utah. He is an eager eighth grader who wants to perfect his English, so he takes two English classes. It is still difficult for him to read, but he studies the scriptures regularly, usually for an hour on Sundays and frequently after school. “The words I don’t understand I look up in the dictionary,” he notes.

He has three church books in Cambodian, including Book of Mormon Selections, which he studies along with the scriptures in English.

Cham Nap says he likes to study and learn more about the gospel. “I want to be a missionary and teach people and make them happy. I want to share what I have learned.” Just like Ammon, the Book of Mormon prophet he’s reading about right now.

Sue twisted the CTR ring on her finger. She was only half-listening to her teacher, Miss Williams, tell about when to indent for a new paragraph. Mostly she just looked at the back of Myrtle’s head. As usual, the girl’s faded red hair stuck out in tangles.
At least she could comb it, even if she doesn’t wash it, Sue thought.
Suddenly it seemed like her CTR ring pinched her finger. She turned it around and around, feeling the raised Choose the Right letters. She wished she knew if not choosing to do something right was as bad as choosing to do wrong. …
Just then Myrtle turned around and smiled at Sue. She was sure now that Myrtle wanted to be on her kickball team at recess.
Miss Williams placed the language book on her desk and walked to the door. The recess bell rang, and Sue lined up with the other fourth graders.
And who has a name like “Myrtle”? Maybe someone’s great-grandmother. Nobody Sue knew had such an old-fashioned name. Myrtle was new to their school, and she wore old, wrinkled dresses and funny shoes with socks that crept down under her heels. Because she moved around so much, she had been kept back a grade. So she was taller than every other kid in the fourth grade. She smiled a lot, tried hard to be friends with her classmates, and seemed not to recognize that they all wore clean, neat clothes and that they pretended not to see her when they chose sides for kickball games.
Sue tried to ignore her best friend, Maryann, who chattered at her side. She had to make up her mind what she was going to do. Ahead of her stood Myrtle, waiting for her at the drinking fountain, smiling.
In her head, Sue could hear Miss Williams telling how Myrtle’s family moved around a lot, how lonely she was, how much she needed a friend. As she got closer to Myrtle, Sue touched her CTR ring again.
Just as she got near Myrtle, Maryann pulled at Sue’s arm. “Sue! You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said!” she complained. “You have to pick Bradley and Rosie first!” She dragged Sue past Myrtle. “First, after me, of course!”
Sue stole a glance back at Myrtle. The new girl’s big blue eyes looked teary. Sue shook her head quickly to rid herself of the sad face behind her, then hurried outside to the field. This was her week as a team captain. She wanted to choose the best players. The other captain was Jason, who was in her Primary class.
When everyone was chosen, Myrtle was left standing. “Sorry, Myrtle,” Jason said. “I guess you’ll have to sit this one out. It’ll make the teams uneven, if you play.”
Sue looked away. Even Myrtle knew that all it would take was for someone on the other team to run twice. This is what Sister Marvin meant last Sunday when she reminded us to use our CTR rings to help us choose the right. But it’s Jason’s turn to choose, not mine. …
Later, at lunch, Sue and Maryann stood in the doorway, looking for good seats. Myrtle sat sideways, watching the doorway, her hand on the empty place beside her, saving a seat. She was looking directly at Sue, and she was smiling.
But Maryann said, “There’s Rosie and Jason! They’re waving to us!” Sue followed Maryann, avoiding Myrtle. She pretended not to see how Myrtle’s shoulders slumped downward as she turned around, taking her hand off the empty place beside her.
Sue had a pain in her chest all through lunch. She couldn’t help but notice that none of her classmates sat beside Myrtle. When Maryann made a rude remark about Myrtle and everyone else laughed, Sue was silent. She was thinking about how she would feel if the others laughed at her.
The next day Myrtle was again standing in the kickball line, waiting to be chosen. Sue was cross. Why doesn’t she just go swing, or do something with someone else? Why does she always stand there, waiting to be chosen for a game no one wants her to play? Again, Sue felt the pinch of her CTR ring. A little rhyme that her grandma had taught her flashed through her mind: “Kindness is a little thing, but lots of happiness it does bring.”
Sue squared her shoulders and stepped forward to make her first choice. Even though she always chose Maryann first, Sue looked at Myrtle and smiled—really smiled—and declared, “I choose Myrtle.”
Over Maryann’s wail of disappointment and the murmurs of surprise from her other classmates, Sue stood firm. With a really happy smile, Myrtle stepped close beside Sue. When everyone was chosen and someone on Jason’s team had been picked to run twice, the game began.
Sue’s team was up first. She was determined to make this work, so she chose Myrtle to kick first. Myrtle lowered her shoulders, drew back her right leg, and kicked the ball squarely into the weeds at the back of the outfield. As she ran around the bases, everyone in the fourth grade, even Jason’s team, chanted her name. “Hurray for Myrtle! Run, Myrtle, run!”
And when she pounded into home, every fourth grader on both teams was clapping for her.
Maryann went over to her. “You did great, Myrtle!” she said. “No one has ever kicked a ball that far before!”
Myrtle grinned and took her place at the end of the line. Sue smiled at Myrtle, wishing she had congratulated Myrtle first. She held up her thumb. “Good job!”
When Sue’s team went out to the field, Myrtle was the one who seemed to catch every ball. Suddenly Myrtle was everyone’s best friend.
Three weeks later, Myrtle did not show up for school on Monday morning.
“Where is Myrtle?” everyone asked.
Miss Williams looked sad. “Myrtle’s family moved away. She will not be coming to this school again.”
Sue looked down at her CTR ring. She did not want anyone to see her cry. She was sorry Myrtle had moved away, but she was glad that she had been a friend. She wished that she had been quicker to listen to the promptings of the Holy Ghost. Still, she had chosen to be a friend. And inside, she felt like smiling—just like Myrtle did.

Later, I offered to assist two members of a family that lived nearby who were struggling. They accepted my help and became part of my household.
I didn’t have the financial means, however, to support us. So I had to work harder than ever, supporting three people instead of one. It was a big lifestyle change.
To navigate that change, I knew I needed to follow my mother’s words and hold tight to the iron rod. Holding on to the iron rod includes remembering the Savior and studying the word of God. I needed to set a good example, communicate more with God, and study the scriptures every day. So, we started studying the scriptures together. Soon, the Spirit became abundant in our home.
The most fulfilling and wonderful times of my life have come from holding to the iron rod. I have also learned that “as you hold on to the iron rod, you will walk hand in hand with Jesus Christ. He will be guiding you, and He will be teaching you.”

Tamton and Taake feel they have been richly blessed by the Lord. Several years ago, Tamton wanted to build a large fish trap to support his family. But to build one, he needed to take thousands of rocks out into the ocean. The task seemed impossible. He had only a small canoe and just his sons to help.
“I prayed hard about the problem,” he says. “The next day I saw a float [a tangle of debris] beached on my land. In the float were some large pieces of styrofoam. With them, I built a raft, and with the raft, my sons and I built our fish trap. In fact, we built two.” The traps have been valuable family assets. When the traps catch more fish than the family can use, they sell the extra.

In his new school, the students say a prayer each morning. “But they don’t pray the way we do,” Raúl says. “They say a memorized prayer, and sometimes they pray to the Virgin Mary, the mother of Jesus.
“Once I asked if I could offer the prayer. I folded my arms, shut my eyes, and bowed my head—and I prayed to Heavenly Father. I thanked him for the beautiful day and for my new school, where I can study peacefully. I asked him to bless my teacher and all of my classmates. I prayed especially that one boy who was sick would be able to return soon. Then I closed in the name of Jesus Christ.”
After school each day, Raúl changes out of his white shirt and tie and puts on other clothes. Some days, he helps his mother in her small store. Other days, he stays home to help care for his three-year-old brother, Luis Angel, and his one-year-old sister, Luciana Andrea.
He loves to climb the trees in his yard. He helps his brother and sister pick up nuts that have fallen to the ground; then he cracks the shells on a rock, and they all enjoy the treat. Later, they play with their pet rabbits and feed the pig out in the back yard.
Inside, Raúl helps tidy up the house. On the walls are pictures of his parents wearing white clothes, standing in front of the São Paulo Temple. The pictures were taken just a month and a half earlier, when his parents took the sixteen-hour bus ride to the temple to be sealed. Brother and Sister Aquino hope to be able to take Raúl, Luis Angel, and Luciana with them to be sealed as a family the next time they go to the temple.
Raúl and his family live in the small Paraguayan town of Piquete Cué. In the nearby town of Limpie, there is a beautiful LDS meetinghouse where a ward meets. But each Sunday, Raúl and his family pass the Limpie Ward’s meetinghouse on their two-hour bus ride to the town of Villa Hayes. There they attend a tiny branch that meets in a small rented house. Why don’t they go to the ward that is so much closer to their home?
“Because the branch in Villa Hayes needs us,” says Raúl’s father, Luciano, who works as an industrial engineer. “There are so few members in the branch that they really need us there.” Brother Aquino is first counselor in the branch presidency. Sister Aquino has been Relief Society president and now teaches a Primary class.
Raúl attends Primary and loves to learn more about the Book of Mormon. “I don’t know how to read it yet,” he says. “But my mamá and papá read it to me.”
Raúl often bears his testimony in sacrament meeting. He told the branch members recently that he’d had a headache—but when he prayed, it went away.
He also remembers the time his dad was seriously sick. Raúl’s mother thought he was going to die. She rode a bus to the missionaries’ house to ask them to give him a blessing. They weren’t home, so she left them a message. When they arrived several hours later, Raúl’s father was so sick he could hardly talk. The missionaries gave him a blessing—and within half an hour, he was up and feeling much better.
“I really want my eight birthday to come so I can be baptized,” Raúl says. “And I want to be a missionary.”
Raúl already is a missionary. “I know that the Book of Mormon and the Church of Jesus Christ are true,” he says. “I would tell children all over the world to try to love everyone—especially the children that I see in the streets who don’t have a home. They make me cry a lot. Be thankful to Heavenly Father and also to our parents. Love the Church of Jesus Christ, take the sacrament, and always pray.”
Then Raúl climbs up his favorite tree. From his leafy perch, he waves good-bye.

A dance festival? Sharon Leo had never seen one, and now she was invited to dance in one. An 18-year-old nonmember living in central Utah, Sharon had been around Mormons all of her life. Now her friend Jolynne Taylor of the Orem Utah Sharon West Stake had asked Sharon to join her in a five-stake dance festival to be held in the huge BYU Marriott Center. With reservations, Sharon accepted.
Rehearsals occupied every Saturday morning for months as Sharon found herself practicing square dances, Swiss polkas, disco numbers, karate exercise numbers, Greek line dances, the English quadrille (her specialty), and many other dances with 600 fathers, mothers, young adults, teens, and children. Sharon’s view of Mormonism began to expand as she met new people and made more friends.
Then there were the costumes to make. While Sharon was struggling to put in a zipper and get the length of her costume correct, others were also sewing like crazy—especially where whole families were participating. Cori Dawn Anderson, 16, of the Orem Utah Sharon West Stake, commented, “Being in the dance festival as a whole family was a good experience. The hardest part was making seven costumes in two weeks. But with everyone helping and sewing in their spare time, we got them all finished. It was really fun, and despite all the work, it was worth it.”
During the rush of practices and costume making, Sharon Leo began taking the missionary discussions.
As Sharon grew in gospel knowledge, the dance festival grew in excitement among its participants. Bishops, stake presidents, and high council members responded to the challenge to participate and brought their families. Miriam Abegg, 17, whose father is on the Orem Utah West Central Stake high council said, “The dance festival was fantastic! I could feel that the Lord’s Spirit was with us during our performance. And I enjoyed practicing with my family. It helped me to see my dad with different eyes—enjoying square dancing, whirling and throwing my mom and us kids up in the air. It was a lot of work, but it was fun to work with other people—especially my own family, even though my brother did drop me on the floor one time.”
Suddenly, the day of the performance was upon them. Between the final dress rehearsal and the evening performance, a different kind of event took place. As Sharon’s family, friends, missionaries, teachers, and priesthood administrators watched, she stepped into the waters of baptism. Jolynne’s father performed the baptism, and Jolynne’s mother accompanied the hymns at the piano. Jolynne waited at the top of the baptismal steps to be the first to give Sharon a hug of fellowship. It was a beautiful time of reverence in an exciting day.
The dance performance filled the evening. As the Marriott Center darkened, over 6,000 spectators sat waiting. Suddenly the lights flashed on to the throb of Star Wars music, and the youth and their families began a spectacular show complete with bright lights, colorful costumes, and exciting dances. The dance numbers that had been such stumbling blocks—difficult to learn, difficult to find music for—suddenly were magnificent. The costumes, made mostly from donated materials, looked professional. The organization and technical details, so ragged in rehearsal, suddenly ran smoothly and professionally.
As Joycelynn Demaree, the costume chairman, remarked, “There were so many little miracles and acts of faith that took place during the putting on of the festival. It was a lot of hard work, but to see the whole thing come together was worth every minute of the thousands of hours involved.”

It was my second week in the mission field. I was fresh out of the missionary training center, ready and willing to face anything that came my way.
One night we rode our bikes along a slightly icy road and then came to some trolley tracks that were part of the road. My companion made it past them, but by the time he looked back to warn me, it was too late. My bike tire caught in the track, and I flew off my bicycle and slid about three feet.
I panicked. I knew I’d been hurt, so I checked my head, my arms, my knees—all were sore. Then I checked my face and discovered that some of my teeth had been knocked out. I sat on a cold, dark street wondering why this happened to me. What had I done wrong? Did the Lord not want me to serve? Questions and concerns raced through my mind as my companion sat by me and offered words of comfort. Nothing seemed to help.
I felt lost and alone, but suddenly an overwhelming sense of warmth and peace came over me, and the dark clouds of fear and hurt disappeared. I became calm. My personal relationship with the Savior grew as I felt His Atonement work on me. I realized that the Lord has taken upon Himself all of our pains and afflictions so that He can help us through them (see Alma 7:11–12).
Many good things came from my accident, and I learned that the Lord really does see the big picture. If we follow Him and seek to understand His plan for us, He will bless us through our trials.

When a thief broke into a high school locker room in Utah during a football game and stole money from the visiting team’s wallets, both teams were upset. To set matters straight, the South Summit Seminary decided to raise money to pay back the visiting team. “We didn’t want our school to be judged by the actions of one or two misguided individuals,” said Coach Fuelling of South Summit High (and also principal of the South Summit Seminary). Replied Coach Garry Walker of East Carbon High, whose team had been robbed, “This seminary’s thoughtfulness has left a very good impression with the members of my football team, the majority of whom are not members of the Church. It’s a good example of the missionary efforts that members can provide through their actions.”

The building of this structure has been a bold undertaking. We worried about it. We prayed about it. We listened for the whisperings of the Spirit concerning it. And only when we felt the confirming voice of the Lord did we determine to go forward.

At the general conference of April 1996, I said: “I regret that many who wish to meet with us in the Tabernacle this morning are unable to get in. There are very many out on the grounds. This unique and remarkable hall, built by our pioneer forebears and dedicated to the worship of the Lord, comfortably seats about 6,000. Some of you seated on those hard benches for two hours may question the word comfortably.

“My heart reaches out to those who wish to get in and could not be accommodated. About a year ago I suggested to the Brethren that perhaps the time has come when we should study the feasibility of constructing another dedicated house of worship on a much larger scale that would accommodate three or four times the number who can be seated in this building” (in Conference Report, Apr. 1996, 88–89; or Ensign, May 1996, 65).

The vision of a new hall was clearly in mind. Various architectural schemes were studied. One was finally selected. It included a massive structure to seat 21,000 with a theater accommodating another thousand. There would be no interior pillars to obstruct the view of the speaker. There would be trees and running water on the roof.

Ground was broken July 24, 1997, the 150th anniversary of the arrival of the first pioneers in this valley. That was an historic event.

We did not know it at the time, but in 1853 Brigham Young, in speaking of temples, said, “The time will come when … we shall build … on the top, groves and fish ponds” (Deseret News Weekly, 30 Apr. 1853, 46).

In 1924 Elder James E. Talmage of the Council of the Twelve wrote, “I have long seen the possible erection of a great pavilion on the north side of the Tabernacle, seating perhaps twenty thousand people or even double that number, with amplifiers capable of making all hear the addresses given from the Tabernacle stands, and in addition to this a connection with the broadcasting system, with receivers in the several chapels or other meeting houses throughout the intermountain region” (journal of James E. Talmage, 29 Aug. 1924, Special Collections and Manuscripts, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah).

In 1940 the First Presidency and the Twelve had their architect draw up a plan of a building that would seat 19,000 and would stand where this building stands. That was 60 years ago. They thought about it, they talked about it, but finally they dropped the idea entirely.

These statements and actions were wonderfully prophetic. We knew nothing about them. All of them have come to our attention since we began this construction.

We have not built a temple with trees and fishponds on the roof. But on this edifice we have many trees and running water. Brigham Young may have foreseen this structure very near the temple. We have what Brother Talmage thought of, and much, much more. These services will not only be heard by all who are seated in the Conference Center, they will be carried by radio, television, and cable, and they will be transmitted by satellite to Europe, to Mexico, to South America. We reach far beyond the intermountain area of which Brother Talmage spoke. We reach beyond the confines of the United States and Canada. We essentially reach across the world.

This is truly a magnificent building. I know of no other comparable structure built primarily as a hall of worship that is so large and that will seat so many. It is beautiful in its design, in its appointments, and in its wonderful utility. It is built of reinforced concrete to the highest seismic codes required in this area. The concrete is faced with granite taken from the same quarry as was the stone for the temple. Both buildings even carry the blemishes of that granite.

The interior is beautiful and wonderfully impressive. It is huge, and it is constructed in such a way that nothing obstructs the view of the speaker. The carpets, the marble floors, the decorated walls, the handsome hardware, the wonderful wood all bespeak utility, with a touch of elegance.

It will prove to be a great addition to this city. Not only will our general conferences be held here, and some other religious meetings, but it will serve as a cultural center for the very best artistic presentations. We hope that those not of our faith will come here, experience the ambience of this beautiful place, and feel grateful for its presence. We thank all who have worked so hard to bring it to this stage—the architects, with whom we have had many meetings; the general contractors, three of whom have worked together; the subcontractors; and the hundreds of craftsmen who have labored here; the construction supervisor; the city building inspectors; and everyone who has had a hand in this project. They have all joined in a herculean effort so that we might meet together this morning. Many of them are with us, I am happy to say.

And now, my brothers and sisters, I would like to tell you about another feature of this wonderful building. If I get a little personal and even a little sentimental, I hope you will forgive me.

I love trees. When I was a boy we lived on a farm in the summer, a fruit farm. Every year at this season we planted trees. I think I have never missed a spring since I was married, except for two or three years when we were absent from the city, that I have not planted trees, at least one or two—fruit trees, shade trees, ornamental trees, and spruce, fir, and pine among the conifers. I love trees.

Well, some 36 years ago I planted a black walnut. It was in a crowded area where it grew straight and tall to get the sunlight. A year ago, for some reason it died. But walnut is a precious furniture wood. I called Brother Ben Banks of the Seventy, who, before giving his full time to the Church, was in the business of hardwood lumber. He brought his two sons, one a bishop and the other recently released from a bishopric and who now run the business, to look at the tree. From all they could tell it was solid, good, and beautiful wood. One of them suggested that it would make a pulpit for this hall. The idea excited me. The tree was cut down and then cut into two heavy logs. Then followed the long process of drying, first naturally and then kiln drying. The logs were cut into boards at a sawmill in Salem, Utah. The boards were then taken to Fetzer’s woodworking plant, where expert craftsmen designed and built this magnificent pulpit with that wood.

The end product is beautiful. I wish all of you could examine it closely. It represents superb workmanship, and here I am speaking to you from the tree I grew in my backyard, where my children played and also grew.

It is an emotional thing for me. I have planted another black walnut or two. I will be long gone before they mature. When that day comes and this beautiful pulpit has grown old, perhaps one of them will do to make a replacement. To Elder Banks and his sons, Ben and Bradford, and to the skilled workers who have designed and built this, I offer my profound thanks for making it possible to have a small touch of mine in this great hall where the voices of prophets will go out to all the world in testimony of the Redeemer of mankind.

And so to all who have made this sacred edifice possible, and to all of you who are here assembled on this historic occasion, I express gratitude and appreciation, my love and my thanks for this day and this sacred and beautiful house of worship, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Around the world President McKay was regarded as an important spiritual leader. During a visit with the Queen of the Netherlands in 1952, President and Sister McKay were invited to have tea. When the McKays declined for religious reasons, the queen asked, “Do you mean to tell me you won’t have a little drink of tea, even with the Queen of the Netherlands?” President McKay responded, “Would [you] ask the leader of a million, three hundred thousand people to do something that he teaches his people not to do?” She replied, “You are a great man, President McKay. I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”19

When 12-year-old Malachi Priest of Nottingham 1st Ward heard about the Captain Tom Moore’s 100 Challenge, he was very keen to take part. Malachi’s school, the Priory Ruskin Academy, had encouraged pupils to do a sponsored activity one hundred times and to donate the money to the St. Barnabas Hospice Trust, that supports people across Lincolnshire.
Malachi has enjoyed dancing from an early age and with the suggestion of his mother, Elaine, he excitedly decided that his fundraising activity would be 100 video dance games. He did four sets of 25 dances over three days, taking five hours 28 minutes and 21 seconds to complete. He said he felt exhausted after each session but, thinking of being able to help others and the encouraging support from his family, helped him carry on. Malachi’s four older siblings Rebekah, Rachael, Joseph, and Ethan supported him by taking turns dancing along with him in some of the sessions. This inspired Malachi to finish and raise over £1,000 in sponsorship.
Malachi’s charitable work caught the attention of the local media. A picture and report appeared in the local newspaper, The Grantham Journal. The local radio station, Radio Lincolnshire, interviewed Malachi and his mother. Malachi also appeared on two television news programmes: ITV Central News, and ‘Make a Difference’ on BBC East Midland News.
Some of the comments made to the local media by Malachi included: “I will be celebrating the extraordinary spirit of Captain Tom my way and help my chosen charity. Please donate to help me reach my goal, or even go beyond” and “Thank you everyone who has supported me. I did it! I followed in Captain Tom’s footsteps and danced my way down the path. I danced 100 dances from Just Dance 2021 (animated dances for downloading on electronic games ‘boxes’).”
Elaine said: “He absolutely loves dancing. It’s lovely. He’s such a kind boy, he always has been.” After he completed the challenge, she added: “Malachi feels great. I asked him when he finished if he still enjoyed dancing? Bless him, He smiled a great big smile and replied, ‘Yes, I still love dancing’” (Grantham Journal, 6 May 2021).
On Malachi’s fundraising site he gave the reason he wanted to participate and do the 100 dances, “Because I love dancing, and being kind.”

It was stake conference in Southampton, and the mission president invited all the Primary children to attend a special meeting before the start.
During the Primary meeting, all the children were called one by one to come and receive their very own mission badge, with their name engraved on it. This was a special and inspiring gift. With the gift was an invitation to start your mission early and to share the gospel by living it and bearing testimony when you can.
The children were also challenged to exchange it for an official mission badge once they are old enough to serve.
As a result, my four Primary children that were old enough to receive this gift and challenge all decided to serve missions and wanted to find out how they can prepare physically and spiritually. They sat down and discussed that we can continue to follow the Come, Follow Me programme, and also study the scriptures on their own. They also decided to think of a way to make some money.
We had a few chickens and the children asked if we could get some more so they could sell the eggs. A few weeks later, we ended up with 24 chickens, and the lockdown began, so we were able to sell our eggs to our neighbors while there were shortages in stores. We were grateful for the children’s insight, as we were now a little more self-sufficient, and provided food for others where there was a shortage, and the children were able to learn how to manage buying chicken food, selling the eggs, paying tithing and putting all the rest of the money into their future mission fund in the bank. They now have a great determination to serve and are grateful for the principles they have learned through listening to their Church leaders and by following the inspiration they felt.