Gospel Story Finder

Yu stepped out of cram school onto the busy sidewalk. His head was full of math facts from his after-school class. People hurried by with umbrellas. Fat raindrops were falling fast, and the street was soaked.

Yu’s friend, Lin, stepped out beside him. “You should call your dad to pick you up,” Lin said. “Mr. Zhang says it’s flooding in some parts of the city.”

“I can get home on my own.”

“But look at all the water!” Lin said, pointing to the water flowing swiftly in the gutter.

For a moment, Yu had a funny feeling. Was Lin right? Maybe he should call Dad to drive him home before the streets flooded. But he and Dad had an argument last night, and Yu was still angry. He didn’t want to ask Dad for help.

Yu unchained his bike and said goodbye to Lin. If I pedal hard, he thought, I can make it home before the streets flood.

He pedaled hard, but soon his hands were cold, his clothes were soaked, and he was exhausted. Once again, the thought came to call Dad. Was the feeling from the Holy Ghost? The missionaries who baptized him had said that the Holy Ghost could be his guide. Yu glanced at the sky. It was so grey that he couldn’t see the tops of the buildings. But he was still mad at Dad.

Yu ignored the feeling and kept pedaling. The water got so high that shop owners closed their stores. People moved belongings to higher floors. Yu saw a mother push her two children through the flood in a little plastic boat.

With the water now past his ankles, Yu could no longer pedal his bike. He got off and pushed. It was probably too late to call Dad now, and the rain was still coming down. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed above him. Yu felt afraid. And he was so tired! He looked ahead. Home was still far away. He shouldn’t have ignored the Holy Ghost just because of a silly argument.

Yu stopped to say a short prayer. He couldn’t hear his voice above the rain and thunder, but he knew that Heavenly Father could hear him.

“Heavenly Father,” Yu prayed. “Please help me get home safely.” When he finished, he felt enough strength to keep going.

At last, Yu could see his house on the hill. Cold, tired, and somehow missing a shoe, Yu trudged up the hill. He saw Dad waiting for him outside. Dad rushed down the hill to meet him, splashing water as he ran.

When Dad reached him, he put his arms around Yu. “I was so worried!” Dad said. “You should have called me!”

“I thought we were mad at each other,” Yu said.

“I am never too mad to help you,” Dad said. Then he took Yu’s bike and pushed it the rest of the way up the hill.

Even with thunder echoing between the tall buildings and heavy rain pelting down, a warm feeling filled Yu’s heart. He felt peace and safety as he followed Dad home.

Some months ago I sat on an airplane beside a gentleman from the Far East. After exchanging a few pleasantries, he, responding to my inquiry, told me about his business activities. He then inquired about mine. This, of course, led to a gospel discussion. He had no religion, although he said his mother was a Christian. He had no concept of a God, no idea whether he had had a pre-earth existence or whether he would live on after death. He had no purpose in life except to work hard and obtain a “reasonable standard of living.” After discussing a few fundamental gospel truths, he responded: “Such concepts would surely give one an objective to live for.”
A few weeks later I mailed him a letter and sent him some literature.
In his response, he wrote:
“I still remember you, that I really enjoyed the conversation exchanged with you on the [airplane]. …
“I have been working hard … without ‘purpose.’ … You made my eyes open for what is the true purpose of working every day and [of] life itself. …
“In the meantime,” he said, “I cannot stop drinking and smoking so far”—he was carrying a package of liquor when we were talking, and I let him read the Word of Wisdom. So he said, “I cannot stop drinking so far, but I shall never forget where we came from, and why we are here, and where we go after we leave this probation.”
As to who we are, I had explained, of course, as Paul told the Athenians on Mars’ hill, that we are “the offspring of God.” (Acts 17:28–29.) This statement required some explanation because, as he pointed out, our physical bodies are the offspring of our mortal parents. At this point I let him read in the revelation the Lord’s statement that “the spirit and the body are the soul of man” (D&C 88:15) and emphasized the fact to him that it is man’s spirit which is the offspring of God. This opened the way for an explanation that God himself is a soul, composed of a body of flesh and bones as tangible as man’s, and a spirit; that he is a resurrected, glorified, exalted, omniscient, omnipotent, and—in spirit, and power, and influence—an omnipresent person, the ruler of the heavens and the earth and all things therein; that the spirits of all men are literally his “begotten sons and daughters.” (D&C 76:24.)
This concept is what he must have had in mind when he wrote, “I shall never forget where we came from.”
As to why we are here on earth, I reminded him of the self-evident fact that, as the offspring of God, we inherit the capability of reaching, in full maturity, the status of our heavenly parents just as we inherit from our mortal parents the capability to attain to their mortal status; and that since God has a body of flesh and bones, it was necessary and perfectly natural for us, his spirit offspring, to obtain such bodies in order that we might be like him; that coming to earth was the means provided for us to obtain these bodies. I further explained to him that this mortal probation provides us the opportunity to, while walking by faith, prove ourselves worthy to go on to perfection and exaltation in the likeness of our heavenly parents.
I explained what Abraham wrote concerning his vision of the council in heaven where the gospel plan was presented and the creation of this earth projected. We considered Abraham’s statement:
“Now the Lord had shown unto me, Abraham, the intelligences that were organized before the world was; …
“And there stood one among [those that were spirits] that was like unto God [namely, Jesus Christ], and he said unto those who were with him: We will go down, for there is space there, and we will take of these materials, and we will make an earth whereon these may dwell;
“And we will prove them herewith, to see if they will do all things whatsoever the Lord their God shall command them;
“And they who keep their first estate shall be added upon; and they who keep not their first estate shall not have glory in the same kingdom with those who keep their first estate; and they who keep their second estate shall have glory added upon their heads for ever and ever.” (Abr. 3:22–26.)
We all know, of course, that the program thus announced was implemented. The spirits who kept their first estate—that was their spirit estate—are added upon, as promised, by receiving mortal bodies as they are born here upon this earth as human souls.
The promise is that if they keep this, their second (that is, our mortal) estate, they “shall have glory added upon their heads for ever and ever.”
It thus became clear to him, as it is to all of us, that we came to earth for two purposes: one, to obtain physical bodies of flesh and bone in the likeness of our Heavenly Father; and two, to be proved—to see if we “will do all things whatsoever the Lord” our God commands us.
This was what my friend had in mind when he said, “I shall never forget … why we are here.”

“I always had in the back of my mind the thought that one day I would be a missionary. When I was old enough to serve on a mission, there was a terrible depression, and Dad was out of work. I did all kinds of odd jobs to earn and save enough money for a mission. I still remember the day I received my call: My boss, who was not a Mormon, called me in and told me he was very proud that one of his boys had been called to be a missionary. He gave me a check for fifty dollars, which in those days kept a missionary going for three months. I was called to New Zealand, and I served there for three full years. When I arrived there, I remember thinking that I was going to help those people become good, solid Christians. But after three years, I realized that they had taught me as much about being a good Christian as I had taught them—lessons of patience, kindness, gentleness, and compassion. Their Polynesian life-style was different from anything I had ever seen, and it was beautiful to see. That mission experience really changed my life and gave it new direction.

I was kicking a ball around in my sister’s room until it was time for family prayer at bedtime. The ball hit the wall and then knocked over the lamp on her dresser, and the light went out. I put the lamp back, but the light didn’t go on again. I was scared that it was broken for good, and I didn’t want to tell my mom. I did tell Mom, though, and she found out that all it needed was a new bulb, so I was glad. I learned that you should tell right away when you do something bad. If you don’t tell, you can get in big trouble.
Sam Yoder, age 7Crete, Illinois

Aulola Mateialona was born into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She was raised by faithful grandparents in Ha’alaufuli, Vava’u, Tonga and she was baptised at eight years old. Aulola later graduated from Liahona High School, a Church-owned school.
When she was 15, Aulola received her patriarchal blessing, which promised that if she stayed true to her covenants with the Lord, she would be married in the temple. It wasn’t until a few years later, as she prepared to serve a full-time mission, that Aulola fully understood the immensity of that promised blessing. As she walked through the Nuku’alofa Tonga Temple for the first time, she was overwhelmed by the desire to return one day with her eternal companion and be sealed to him in that sacred place.
The reality of Aulola’s life, however, didn’t quite follow the plan in her heart. After her mission, it took some time before marriage became a priority for her, and by then she was in love with someone who didn’t share her faith.
“He’s a good man,” Aulola says. “He always welcomed [my Church’s] missionaries into our home and always fed them, but he was never interested in hearing their message.” His family are devout members of their own faith, and he would not break with their tradition. Their difference of religion put a great strain on their marriage. Aulola was unable to attend sacrament meetings as often as she liked, and she couldn’t raise their children in the Church the way she had been. Eventually, the contention in their home proved too much. After 23 years, the couple decided to part ways.
Aulola was devastated. She had lost her marriage and, with it, her hopes for the future with her family, but she was also suffering now from debilitating health issues. In her grief and pain, she turned to her Father in Heaven for guidance. “I fasted and prayed, and I promised the Lord that if He would accept me back, I would never turn away again.”
Her prayers kept leading her back to her patriarchal blessing, which brought her comfort and peace at such a troubling time. One day, she reread the promise that she could be sealed in the temple, and Aulola knew what she needed to do. “I realised that if I don’t do my part, it’s not going to work.” In that moment, she recommitted to follow all of Heavenly Father’s commandments, and to draw near to Him through church attendance, daily prayer and scripture study.
Before long, Aulola reconnected with an acquaintance from her early days in Tonga: Brother Semisi Mounga Mateialona, a priesthood holder who had recently found himself single again, too. They bonded over shared experiences and their mutual love for the gospel of Jesus Christ, and Aulola knew in her heart that this was the man for her. The couple got married in New Zealand in 2019 and at the end of September 2022, they travelled to the Nuku’alofa Tonga Temple to be sealed to each other for time and all eternity.
At a recent temple fireside in the Auckland Papatoetoe Stake, Aulola reflected on what she says is a miracle. As a young woman, she had experienced the sweet sacredness of the temple and knew how important it was to worship there. Then, for 23 years, she didn’t know if she could ever qualify for the temple blessings promised to her in her patriarchal blessing—but she didn’t give up hope.
It took time, patience and the kind of faith that changes lives, but now Aulola feels like she’s come home again. Finally, she can testify: “When you stay near God, He is going to bless you as He promised—if you do your part.”

Several years ago a friend of mine had a young daughter die in a tragic accident. Hopes and dreams were shattered. My friend felt unbearable sorrow. He began to question what he had been taught and what he had taught as a missionary. The mother of my friend wrote me a letter and asked if I would give him a blessing. As I laid my hands upon his head, I felt to tell him something that I had not thought about in exactly the same way before. The impression that came to me was: Faith is not only a feeling; it is a decision. He would need to choose faith.
My friend did not know everything, but he knew enough. He chose the road of faith and obedience. He got on his knees. His spiritual balance returned.
It has been several years since that event. A short time ago I received a letter from his son who is now serving a mission. It was full of conviction and testimony. As I read his beautiful letter, I saw how a father’s choice of faith in a very difficult time had deeply blessed the next generation.

My family was going camping that weekend, and I had a problem. My big brother, Neil, told me that toy rabbits are not allowed to go on camping trips, and I always sleep with Mr. Long Ears.
Neil said that stuffed bunnies are for babies. He said to take a flashlight instead. But a flashlight isn’t cuddly like Mr. Long Ears.
My little brother, Benjy, is almost two years old. Neil said Benjy could take his blanket because he’s a baby. Sometimes Benjy borrows my rabbit. But he always puts him back in my room at bedtime.
At breakfast Neil told me all about camping. He’s been camping with his friend Jeff.
“Is it dark in the tent at night?” I asked.
“Yes,” said Neil, “like the inside of the darkest cave.”
“That sounds very dark,” I replied. I decided to hide Mr. Long Ears in my backpack. His body fit OK, but when I closed the pack, his ears stuck out. I thought Neil would be suspicious.
“What else do you like about camping?” I asked Neil after school.
“The wild animals come out at night,” answered Neil. “You can hear them chomping all around the tent.” Neil bit into his apple and made loud chomping sounds.
I imagined wild animals eating a hole in the tent, and then I went to my room and took Mr. Long Ears from my backpack and rolled him up in my sleeping bag. There was a funny lump on one side. I thought Neil would be suspicious.
At dinner I asked Neil, “What happens if you want a drink of water in the middle of the night?”
“You crawl out of the tent and walk down the long, dark path to the water pump,” Neil explained. “You have to shine your flashlight all around first so you don’t step on a moose’s foot.”
I tried to think of a better place to hide Mr. Long Ears.
On Friday morning the backyard was covered with boxes and bags full of camping gear.
“Put your parka in the duffel bag, Josh,” said Mom, “just in case it gets cold tonight.”
I found my parka, and when I opened the duffel bag, Dad’s huge orange parka was right on top. A rabbit, even one with long ears, could fit inside that orange parka nicely. I ran and got Mr. Long Ears and zipped him inside Dad’s parka. I thought, When Dad gets his parka out, I’ll say, “What a surprise! How did Mr. Long Ears get in there?”
We drove for a long time, and Dad kept saying, “We’re almost there.” I was squashed in the backseat between Benjy’s car seat and Neil. Benjy had his blanket, and I had a flashlight. Neil had his popgun, his canteen, two flashlights, his toy camper truck, his baseball and bat, his cowboy hat, and his Frisbee.
Finally we arrived at Avalanche Creek. We started to help Dad put up the tent, but Benjy kept tripping over the ropes.
“Will you boys take him away?” Dad asked.
First we played sheriff and outlaws. We arrested Benjy and put him in the Avalanche Creek Jail (the tent). Then we played prospectors looking for gold, and the tent became the Avalanche Creek Mine. Next we played Indians, and the tent was a wigwam. We had a wonderful time all day.
After dinner we roasted marshmallows over the campfire coals. I roasted two at once—one for Benjy and one for me. It started getting very dark. Neil wanted to tell stories about the ghosts of old prospectors and outlaws still wandering around Avalanche Creek. I wanted Dad to get his parka.
“Aren’t you cold, Dad?” I asked.
“No,” Dad replied.
It looks like Mr. Long Ears will have to sleep in the car, I thought.
Mom took Benjy into the tent to put him to bed. Suddenly Benjy started to bawl.
“Maybe there’s a snake in Benjy’s sleeping bag!” Neil shouted. We rushed over to the tent to see what was wrong.
“Benjy lost his blanket,” said Mom.
“Don’t worry,” Neil told her, “we’ll find it with our trusty flashlights.” We started into the dark woods. I could hear Avalanche Creek gurgling. It sounded like a giant drinking from a huge water bottle. I kept shining my light all around to make sure no wild animals were lurking anywhere. We looked everywhere but couldn’t find Benjy’s blanket. Benjy was still crying when we got back to the tent.
“Maybe we’ll have to go home now,” said Mom, “instead of in the morning.”
“No, we can’t go home!” cried Neil. He was really disappointed.
Suddenly I had an idea. “Will you unlock the trunk of the car?” I asked Dad. Standing on the bumper, I shined my flashlight inside the trunk, opened the duffel bag, unzipped Dad’s parka, and pulled out Mr. Long Ears. I ran over to Benjy and put Mr. Long Ears in his arms. Benjy hugged Mr. Long Ears and stopped crying.
“You saved the day,” said Dad, giving me a hug.
“You mean, ‘the night,’” said Neil with a happy grin.
When we crawled into our sleeping bags, Neil didn’t say anything about Mr. Long Ears being in Dad’s parka. Instead, he showed me how to use my flashlight and my hand to make fun shadows on the tent walls.

The following story is about kindness. I felt inspired to ask a few former students about their experiences at BYU–Hawaii. I am very thankful to Cooper Johnson for providing me with a lot of information about his experience here, and I am focusing on just a small part of his story to emphasize the kindness that he experienced as a student. These are his words: “The teachers, students, staff, and community members all seemed to care about my well-being, even if we had never met before. People I didn’t know smiled and waved as I walked across campus. I learned that being kind to others was a way of life. I felt a built-in support network from the moment I got there.” Later on, in his message to me, he said, “Several months after I got to Hawaii, I felt a legitimate need to get a car. I prayed for help finding an affordable car in decent condition. I promised the Lord that I would show kindness and help others if I could have my needs met. The Lord blessed me. A friend of mine helped me find a car salesman that sold me a car in great condition and a very low price. In turn, I kept my promise while I was on the island. I picked up people walking in the rain, regularly gave people rides, helped people get to doctor’s appointments, and was the friend known for helping people go shopping on the other side of the island.” Cooper also mentioned how he was blessed through this experience. I appreciate this story for its simplicity and for how similar it is to the things that people do here every day.

Try to think of a time when your prayer was answered. That can count as your first seed. I have had prayers for lost keys answered, and I have had prayers for lost life plans answered. These prayers were answered when I turned my idea for where the keys were or my idea for what I wanted to have happen in my life over to Heavenly Father and simply followed His guidance. Now, I can rely on those experiences when other losses come. I know that if I listen, I can find what I am seeking.

Over the holiday, I misplaced the keys to my car. The time I spent worrying and looking was making it hard to concentrate on the service and fun I wanted to enjoy with my family. I knelt many times, but it wasn’t until I pled, “Heavenly Father, I want to serve my family, but this is taking up so much of my energy. I know keys are not important, but I really want to be fully present to serve. I will try to forget about the keys.” Later that day, I walked into my laundry room, and the drawer where we keep batteries was open with the keys lying inside. This is not my regular spot for keeping my keys. Such a small thing, but big to me. And now, I have another experience to tuck away in my testimony garden.

“One of my earliest recollections is that of putting canned goods on the shelves in my father’s grocery store after they had been priced. I didn’t think that I was helping much, but I remember Dad saying, ‘Every can that you put up is one that I don’t have to put up.’ I also distinctly remember being baptized by my father in the Blackfoot River that ran through a neighbor’s farm near our home. I was confirmed immediately afterward on the sandy riverbank.

One Sunday after church, my mother, my brothers, and I were in the car ready to go home. But we could not find the car key. Our dad had put all our bags in the car and walked home with my younger sister in the stroller. We looked everywhere for the key, but we could not find it. In Primary and family home evening, I have learned that we should always pray when we need help. I told my mom that we should pray so Heavenly Father could help us. My mom was very happy, and we prayed together. Suddenly our grandmother drove up and brought us the key. Our dad had accidentally taken the key and sent it back with our grandmother. I know that Heavenly Father helped us by sending our grandmother. He will always help us, even through other people.

“My older brother, Ron, has always been an inspiration to me. I recall one evening when he came home from a Church youth meeting and announced to the family that his teacher had told him that he had to gain his own testimony and receive his own witness and to not rely on that of others. He said—almost prophetically—‘I’m going to gain that personal witness and testimony, no matter how long it takes or what the cost.’
“Ron began reading and studying the scriptures and fasting and praying. One morning a short time later, he was suddenly stricken by a paralysis. He could not move his body and his right side was in terrible pain. He was barely able to whisper to Dad that he wanted a blessing. No sooner had Dad finished blessing his son than Ron was miraculously cured! My brother uncoiled his tense body, straightened up, and was free of pain.
“When he was later examined by a doctor, the diagnosis was that he had had what appeared to be a ruptured appendix but that no trace of damaged tissue was found in his body. Later, my brother told me that during this experience he received his special witness that the Book of Mormon and the gospel were true. He wanted me to know, however, that he had received this knowledge before Dad had blessed him before his healing. He truly had shown faith before the miracle.

For 35 years I hoped and waited for my husband to become a member of the Church. Those long years were full of heartfelt prayers, but three prayers in particular were memorable turning points in my experience.
Al and I were married in 1959. A decade later we had three children and were living in a small town in Canada. Al ran a construction business, and I was a stay-at-home mom who sometimes helped with the business. On the weekends, Al and I partied with our friends, always with alcohol. My dad had been an alcoholic, so I hated that drinking was such a big part of our lives, but it had become our way of socializing.
That year, 1969, I realized my life was going nowhere and that our children deserved better than what we were offering them. One night after another drinking party, I got down on my knees and prayed, “Dear God, if You are there, please help me change my life.” I promised Him I would never drink alcohol again, a commitment I’ve honored ever since.
That was the first memorable prayer, and it was answered quickly. My sister-in-law’s daughter, my niece, had been invited to attend Primary with a Latter-day Saint friend. As my sister-in-law learned more about the Church, she felt inspired to send me a subscription to the Church magazines, which arrived within a month after I had said that first prayer. I didn’t know what a Mormon was, but I loved the messages the magazines contained and read them cover to cover. I decided to investigate the Church and therein found my answer. I did change my life, and I was baptized on June 19, 1970.
Al did not share my desires. He liked our former lifestyle and continued to live it. He continued to be a good husband, father, and provider, but for the next 35 years, as far as the gospel was concerned, I was on my own.
I was raising our children in the Church, but within a few years, our children decided they would rather spend Sundays boating with their dad than attending church with me. I was devastated. One day in 1975 I talked to my stake president and told him that I had decided I needed to leave the Church because it was breaking up our family. He patiently listened and said, “Do what you must, but be sure that your Father in Heaven approves.” So I went home and fasted and prayed. That was the second memorable prayer. The answer that came was the impression that I was the link in the gospel chain for my family; if I broke that link, everyone would be lost. I knew the answer came from God, so I committed to never leave the Church. And I never did.
Staying faithful didn’t come easily, but several things helped me maintain my faith and patiently hope for the day when Al would reconsider the gospel:
I always loved Al and did my best to look after him and be a supportive, faithful wife.
I prayed constantly. Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ became my gospel companions. When being with Al was difficult because he wasn’t living gospel standards, I talked with Heavenly Father and came to know my Savior.
I regularly read my scriptures and every other Church publication I could get my hands on, including the Ensign. Two verses of scripture in particular, 3 Nephi 13:33 and Doctrine and Covenants 75:11, became especially meaningful and poignant to me. They gave me strength and patience to hold on while waiting for a change of heart in my husband and children.
I faithfully went to church by myself until each of our children came back. All are active today. When they grew up and left home, I continued to attend church by myself.
We held family home evening without Al knowing that was what we were doing. I would bring up a subject at the dinner table, and we would talk about it as a family.
I always tried to be obedient and do the right thing.
I accessed additional power by requesting priesthood blessings.
I sought counsel from priesthood leaders.
I treated my Church friends as family.
I went to the temple and received my endowment. It took me many years to make that decision; I was afraid it would make my relationship with Al more difficult. In the end, I found it was the best decision for me. Al supported it, it made me happy, and after receiving it, I no longer resented Al as the reason I wasn’t going to the temple. When I participated in temple worship, I often put Al’s name on the prayer roll.
In essence, I continued to live as a faithful member of the Church. I looked for small ways to share the gospel with him, even though he usually didn’t want to hear it. But I found that the Holy Ghost would inspire me with the right things to say and the right way and time to share them. I later learned that because of my faithfulness and commitment to him, Al was touched by the Spirit from time to time.
He even agreed to listen to the missionary lessons on several occasions. But each time, my heart broke because he always returned to his old way of life. Even in these discouraging moments, however, Heavenly Father watched over me and made up for what I didn’t have with other blessings. All along I knew that there was something inside Al worth waiting for.
Slowly Al began to make changes. He stopped swearing. He stopped drinking. He treated me better than he ever had before. He began coming to church.
And I kept praying.
The incredible answer to my third memorable prayer came in April 2005. I was wondering if Al would ever accept the gospel of Jesus Christ—I was feeling a little bit desperate. I pleaded with Heavenly Father for His help. It must have finally been the right time because on July 9, Al was baptized.
Although getting to this point was not easy, I am grateful to have witnessed the amazing power of God in changing an unbelieving heart to a believing one. I know that He heard and answered the many prayers I prayed over the course of 35 years. Because of His answers, I now live with a changed man, one who loves our Heavenly Father as much as I do. And we love each other more deeply than we ever did before.
I know that there are others in the Church who are waiting, hoping, and praying for a loved one to come into the Church. I wish to encourage these brothers and sisters to accept the Savior’s invitation to “come unto me” (Alma 5:34) for themselves and not just for their loved ones. I know from experience that doing so will give strength as nothing else can. Staying close to Heavenly Father, obeying His commandments, and enjoying current blessings yield happiness and allow Him to work through us.
I testify that God does hear our prayers. Waiting on the Lord and accepting His timetable with faith is rarely easy, but I know that His timing is always right.

On our way driving home from a swim meet, it was dark and snowing. My mom was worried and asked us to pray. I remembered how Jesus taught us to pray when we need help. So I bowed my head and closed my eyes to pray to get home safely. After I prayed and opened my eyes, I felt a warm feeling in my heart. Then I heard a still, small voice whisper, “Everything will be all right.”
Peichi C., age 10, Massachusetts, USA

Twenty-five years ago I completed my freshman year at BYU. At that time I never dreamed that I would one day address the faculty and student body in a Marriott Center devotional. For one thing, the Marriott Center didn’t even exist! For another, I was a Latter-day Saint convert of less than two years and didn’t feel overly confident in my ability to expound on Church doctrine. But I did feel prompted to embark on a full-time mission. I had baptized my best friend—also a BYU student—earlier in the year, and I was anxious to share the restored gospel with others.

Before I could serve, however, I had to submit to the rite of passage familiar to all who would serve missions. I had to have interviews with my bishop and stake president, fill out several forms, undergo medical and dental examinations, make financial arrangements, and attend to a variety of academic concerns. In preparation for my mission, I read or reread LeGrand Richards’ A Marvelous Work and a Wonder and James E. Talmage’s Jesus the Christ. I also tackled Talmage’s The Articles of Faith. With the zeal of a convert I had previously read Joseph Fielding Smith’s three-volume work Doctrines of Salvation and much of Bruce R. McConkie’s Mormon Doctrine. I had a vivid dream in which I saw myself called to Italy, where centuries before Paul had journeyed to preach to the Romans. When the call came, I was thrilled. The opening sentence of the letter read: “You are hereby called to be a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to labor in the Italy North Mission.” My dream had come true.

Because I came from a non-LDS family, I could not rely on them for financial support. I elected to pay for my mission with funds I had previously set aside for my college education. I looked forward to my mission as one long spiritual feast. Mine was to be the ideal missionary experience. I would love my companions, I would teach the gospel daily by word and deed, and I would baptize regularly.

After I had been in Italy for only four months, I was called as a senior companion to a brand-new elder, a “greenie” whom I’ll call Elder Brown. Proud of the linguistic skills that allowed me to enjoy a senior position after so few months in a foreign land, I looked forward to remaking Elder Brown in my own image—never minding that he was more handsome and more personable than I. Unfortunately, things didn’t work out exactly as I had planned. Elder Brown came from LDS pioneer stock and from a much more well-to-do family. His grandfather invariably included a twenty-dollar bill in his letters; I resented the perks that such extra cash allowed, even though my companion invariably shared his bounty with me.

Elder Brown had belonged to a social fraternity during his freshman year—the type that never would have accepted a nerd such as I—and, unfortunately, his fraternity brothers had exposed him to a number of undesirable things, including risqué magazines.

Then it happened. One afternoon during scripture study time in our apartment I caught him “reading” (if that’s the right word) an unapproved magazine—you know, the kind with a centerfold. It was an Italian edition of Playboy. He had purchased it while on splits with another elder, and I was furious. I felt that Elder Brown had ruined my ideal mission. I seethed in righteous indignation, but, rather than rebuking my companion and then showing forth an increase in love, I chose to become an expert on his every fault, which I cataloged and reviewed with some regularity in my mind. After a few challenging months together, my junior companion was transferred, and it was at that point that I began my revenge in earnest.

I have always been fond of telling stories (in case you haven’t noticed), and I soon captivated not only later missionary companions but entire districts with embroidered tales of my greenie’s sinful ways. Even after I returned from my mission, I continued to recount his problems. The one thing that I couldn’t understand, however, was the report that I had received from more than one source that Elder Brown, in contrast to me, had become one of the top baptizing elders of our mission and had been called to key leadership positions that had mysteriously eluded me.

A few years passed. Then one day Elder Brown appeared on my doorstep. He asked to come in. We spoke alone in my living room for over an hour. I asked what he was doing and learned that he was happily married and an extremely successful businessman and entrepreneur. Because of the way I had stereotyped him, I wondered about his activity in the Church. I was surprised to learn that he was not an elder (as was I) but a high priest and serving on a high council. He then stunned me by relating how his favorite high council talk was to share what he had learned from me while we were mission companions. He loved to tell young people preparing for missions how much better prepared doctrinally I—the convert—had been than he—the lifelong member—and how my example of gospel scholarship had inspired him to overcome his own shortcomings.

I began to feel pretty rotten about all the stories I had told about him. I prayed that he didn’t know what I had done, but somehow I sensed that he did know. He then acknowledged that at a family reunion one of his cousins, whom I had known in graduate school, had told him how I had recounted in her presence and in vivid detail an episode Elder Brown had long ago repented of. My former companion did not berate me; instead he asked if I could ever forgive him for his youthful mistakes. I knew then that it was I who needed to ask him for forgiveness. In the pride of my heart I had sinned, and I had sinned in multiple ways—in judging unmercifully, in harboring resentment, in planning and executing revenge, and, perhaps most of all, in not allowing the possibility that a brother could change, improve, and repent.

Among many very good deeds, Hilda was largely responsible for gathering the whole of Joe’s offspring as a family. In late 1952, Joe, Hilda, John, and I went to Southern Rhodesia, and siblings Gwen, Peter and Sue were taken out of the Fairbridge home, located near Bulawayo in the south, to join the rest of us now located in what was Salisbury, the capital. We were all together in the one home for a precious two years. Then, due to concerns about space in our three-bedroomed Rhodesia-Railways-provided house, Gwen left to live in a special establishment set up to house young single women.
Those years in colonial Rhodesia were wonderful, especially for John and me. As youngsters we lived a largely outdoor life, often running around barefoot and getting up to mischief, but mostly creatively (building platforms in trees; forming rowing boats from corrugated metal sheets — usually used for roofing purposes; fabricating catapults from carefully chosen branches of trees and rubber strips from old car-tyre inner tubes, and bows that we used to shoot arrows made from dried elephant grass with pins in their heads and chicken feathers as fletching). Hilda was always around to attend to our injuries, and provide as best she could for us, including repairing clothing.

Once while I was in Tonga, I was traveling between islands to attend a district conference. Traveling with me were my wife, a translator, and the mission president and his wife. To get from island to island, the people travel by boat. This particular boat trip between Ha’apai and Ha’afeva took us four hours. When we arrived at Ha’afeva, the Saints were lining the shore and singing to us. We rolled up our pants, took off our shoes, and waded ashore.
We soon learned that the people there had been suffering because of a drought. In the islands, drinking water is collected in barrels from rainwater running off roofs. The islanders drink the water from the barrels. If it doesn’t rain, they’re out of drinking water, and their crops don’t grow either. They had been experiencing the drought for so long that they were out of water, and for dinner that afternoon, they shared with us the last of their food. I thought to myself, “What faith!” They had been fasting, and they asked if we would join them in a prayer for rain, which we did.
After the conference had ended and we prepared to leave, the people on the island prayed not only for rain, but they prayed that we would have good weather until we arrived back at our destination. We got into our boats and traveled back with good weather. But as we arrived at our final destination the heavens opened, and the islands were blessed with rain.

While I was serving as a mission president in Toronto, Canada, one of my assistants approached me and said, “President, how can I be a better missionary?” My first response was, “You are doing great.” And in truth, he was. But he persisted in his question, so I thought for a moment and then offered a suggestion. With a smile, he responded positively.
I shared this simple experience with our other missionaries. Soon other elders and sisters came to their interviews and asked, “President, how can I be a better missionary?” That simple question from one missionary caused a spirit of improvement throughout our entire mission.

Last year, just before school started, the priests of the Ketchikan Ward were having a lesson on fasting. They started discussing how much easier it was for them to fast with a purpose instead of feeling like they were just starving. Russell Youngberg said, “We realized that school was about to start and a fast Sunday was coming up, so we sort of put the two together. The entire ward youth would fast for each other to be able to resist temptations and have a good school year.”

Forrest Allred remembers how they came up with the idea. “We were talking about how to make the youth stronger and more righteous. We were confident that fasting would work.”

The bishop also thought it was a great idea. He invited the Young Women to join in. Amanda Youngberg said, “The bishopric came into the Young Women classes and asked if we wanted to participate in the fast. We all did it together.”

They planned for the first weekend of September. They started their fast individually on Saturday afternoon. For some, having a distinct reason helped. Kaitlyn Skinner said, “Our parents could join us in our fast, but since the youth were fasting together, it was easier for me.”

The next day, fast Sunday, all the youth met after fast and testimony meeting in the seminary room. Adam Fitzgerald, one of the priests who talked about the original idea, described what happened. “I remember feeling the Spirit really strong. We all knelt, which was hard to do because the room was very full. The bishop gave the prayer for us. I remember him talking about us having a good year and that we would become bonded to one another and resist temptations throughout the year and continue our growth and development. Personally, as he was saying those things, I knew that it was going to be that way.”

Ryan Gray was on the student council at Ketchikan High School and noticed that the LDS students were more connected after their fast. “In this school, we’re small in number. We all have our own friends, but we’re all friends at the ward. We’ve got strength. Fasting for each other was a good way to start the year.”

This unity, these friendships, these positive choices are the very things the teens were fasting for.

Russell says, “I think our fast made a difference, at least it has to me. It seems whenever any member sees another member at school, we stop and talk on the way to class. It feels like there is a stronger bond in the youth group. As for the fast, my stomach did the same stuff as always when I fast, but we all had a purpose for fasting, and that made it a lot different.”

These two virtues, love and service, are required of us if we are to be good neighbors and find peace in our lives. Surely they were in the heart of Elder Willard Richards. While in Carthage Jail on the afternoon of the martyrdom of Joseph and Hyrum, the jailer suggested that they would be safer in the cells. Joseph turned to Elder Richards and asked, “If we go into the cell will you go with us?”

Elder Richards’ reply was one of love: “Brother Joseph, you did not ask me to cross the river with you—you did not ask me to come to Carthage—you did not ask me to come to jail with you—and do you think I would forsake you now? But I will tell you what I will do; if you are condemned to be hung for ‘treason,’ I will be hung in your stead, and you shall go free.”

It must have been with considerable emotion and feeling that Joseph replied, “But you cannot.”

To which Elder Richards firmly answered, “I will” (see B. H. Roberts, A Comprehensive History of the Church, 2:283).

Elder Richards’ test was perhaps greater than most of us will face: the test of fire rather than of the touchstone. But if we were asked to do so, could we lay down our lives for our families? our friends? our neighbors?