Gospel Story Finder

It was a bright, sunny Monday morning, with a breeze a little stronger than usual for August. The weather forecast for the Florida Keys was just right for sailing—moderate winds from the northeast, clear skies to scattered cloudiness, with widely scattered rain squalls. Along the Miami River a few elegant sailboats were already getting underway.
At the Out Island pier, 17 Explorers and leaders from Post 9796 were busy stowing supplies and personal gear below deck on two sleek, 41-foot sailboats the Maupiti and the Shepahoy. This was the beginning of an activity they had been preparing for ten months, the culmination of extensive planning.
At post meetings they had learned about sails and nautical charts, dead reckoning, safety, and the “rules of the road.” Now they were finally dockside, actually loading their snorkels and scuba tanks on board. The food they would eat all week was going into the galleys. Everything was nearly ready.
Excerpts from the logs kept on both vessels succinctly record the excitement of the group’s adventure at sea:
Monday, 10:55 A.M.—Shepahoy cast off. Motored down the Miami River to Biscayne Bay. Will pick up fishing gear and rendezvous with Maupiti at MacArthur Causeway.
Noon—Delayed by final engine repairs. Underway with Brother Bowman as first helmsman. Eight drawbridges had to raise for us as we went downriver. Three blasts with the horn is the signal to raise a bridge.
12:50 A.M.—Shepahoy and Maupiti left Miami River under sail in a brisk wind, making six to eight knots. Note: A rope is not called a rope. It is a line except when it’s a sheet, a lanyard, or a halyard. But it’s never called a rope.
2:30 P.M.—Finally learning how to walk on sloping, pitching decks. Slippery decks can be bad for your health! Note: If you are told to “fall off,” it means to steer further away from the wind, not to jump overboard.
3:15 P.M.—While underway, Richard Holt caught a barracuda. Now everyone wants to fish.
4:10 P.M.—Broke the topping lift. Repaired it. Glad the skipper was giving orders when it broke instead of one of us landlubbers!
6:55 P.M.—Anchored off Elliott Key. Rafted vessels together. Everyone went swimming, then ate dinner.
8:10 P.M.—Boats separated and anchored apart for the night. Mosquitoes pretty bad until wind came up. Must anchor further off shore in the future.
Tuesday the group headed for Angelfish Creek, the passage through the Keys into the Atlantic.
9:15 A.M.—David Spellman sighted the first shark. The water is amazingly clear. It looks like you are about to go aground even when the Fathometer reads 11 to 13 feet.
1:30 P.M.—Dropped anchor just off Carysfort Reef lighthouse in 25 feet of water. The four qualified scuba divers made their first dive, while the others went snorkeling. The reef is amazing, visibility magnificent. Color and variety of fish are fantastic. We sighted barracuda, huge angelfish, groupers, grunts, and lobster, as well as brain coral, antler coral, and fan coral. Derek Doty saw a shark. Too bad no one has an underwater camera!
The boats anchored off Grecian Rocks for the night, where high waves on a rough sea made them pitch heavily. Showers hit just after 2:00 A.M., sending those sleeping on deck scurrying below. By daylight the sea was even rougher. Several of those assigned galley duty couldn’t fulfill the assignment—on the Shepahoy Brett Summers was the only Explorer who could do the cooking, but there wasn’t much demand for food. On the Maupiti Don Wise and his father looked strangely healthy while the others were turning a little green. Only a few hearty souls didn’t show specific signs of “epigastric awareness,” and there was a feeling that those who didn’t join the general misery weren’t expressing proper brotherhood. One fellow felt so ill he asked for a priesthood blessing, and he seemed relieved after receiving it.
Nevertheless, by 9:00 A.M. both vessels were moving out. Maupiti headed for Rodriguez Key and more snorkeling, while Shepahoy’s crew decided to stop at the underwater statue of the Savior. The figure and base stand about 30 feet tall in a grotto of coral heads, the highest point about ten feet under water. An enormous barracuda seemed to be guarding the site and kept anyone from getting too near to the impressive memorial.
The two vessels rendezvoused again and headed together to Key Largo to fill the ships’ tanks with water and the scuba divers’ tanks with air. Solid ground felt good after the rough seas. Key Largo’s supply of seasickness pills and snack food was perceptibly reduced during the Explorers’ visit.
Back at sea, on the way to Mosquitoe Bank, Miguel, the young professional Scouter who had accompanied the LDS group as an adviser, caught ten lobsters. Lee Burdge, with great delight, caught one of his own, and we had the makings of a feast.
Capturing a lobster by hand requires considerable talent, because they have quick reactions. The lobster hides in crevices at the bottom of reefs, and the hunter, without being seen, has to tickle its tail with a long wire. This causes the lobster to dart from its hole, and the hunter then tries to catch it in his gloved hand, avoiding the sharp and pinching claws.
Wednesday evening rain fell again, postponing the scheduled talent night. Thursday morning the divers found no lobsters, but did spot a large moray eel in the reef and stayed clear of it. Shawn Pergande shot two fish with an air gun, and a six-foot barracuda followed Ray Holt, Wayne Bucklew, and Shawn for about 30 minutes. At 10:45 anchors came up and the two boats headed for Rodriguez Key, in the first of two races held during the trip.
The Maupiti started off slightly behind. Both vessels were beating hard against the wind. The entire crew of the Shepahoy hiked, trying to get the mast straighter and higher. The race had no formal finish because the Shepahoy ripped her genoa and dropped out for repairs. But let it be officially noted that the Maupiti was at least three lengths ahead when the sail tore.
The Maupiti was at anchor when the Shepahoy arrived. As they came alongside, cannoneers suddenly burst from the cabin with buckets and tubs of water balloons. The Maupiti was hit with a full salvo, but its crew had heard rumors of a possible sneak attack and returned the fire. One of the great naval battles of all time ensued—not one that would topple empires, but certainly no more colorful or spirited engagement ever took place. Brother Holt, awakened by the sound of combat, sleepily poked his head out of the cabin and immediately received three direct hits. As ammunition ran low, Doug Lind and Lee Burdge dove into the water to retrieve unburst balloons and came under heavy fire. Boarders from the Shepahoy were repulsed after almost scaling the Maupiti’s anchor chain. The battle lasted 30 minutes, and final victory was inconclusive and much debated for the rest of the trip.
That night, following a delicious feast earned by great heroics, the postponed talent night was finally held. Richard Holt and his father started with a skit, the bishop recited a poem, Donald Harper-Smith and his dad presented another skit, and eventually everyone shared some form of talent before another rain squall, just after the closing prayer, called a halt to the evening.
Friday, 6:10 A.M.—Awoke. Breakfast. Set sail for the statue. Anchored. Divers in the water. Discovered we are at the wrong reef, Cannon Reef. Recovered divers and set sail. Arrived at the statue. Waves too rough for diving. Difficult to handle tanks and flippers on pitching deck. Skipper canceled dive for safety reasons. Set sail for Angelfish Creek and Miami.
10:20 A.M.—We entered the Gulf Stream. The water is deep blue. We expected a lot of fish here. Didn’t find many. Ray caught a barracuda and Richard caught an amberjack. Wayne snagged a lobster trap!
As the two vessels cleared the Angelfish Creek channel, a second race began. Across Biscayne Bay the two beautiful boats darted, beating to windward. The breeze was brisk, the weather exhilarating. Rounds of shouting added to the excitement. The boats were well matched, the crews intensely competitive. Fairness requires, though, that the Shepahoy should be credited with a clear-cut victory.
Anchorage that night was across the bay from Miami. The skyline reflected beautifully in the water. Lobsters tasted better for having been caught by hand. With boats moored together, the combined crews held a testimony meeting, expressing their brotherly love and gratitude. The setting was spectacular and the spirit impressive. Almost everyone had expressed himself when Miguel, who had been quietly listening, asked if he could participate.
“Of course,” he was assured. He said that he felt a wonderful spirit, that he hadn’t felt anything like it since he had been active in his own Catholic Scout troop. He said he had been on cruises with many Explorer posts, but he wanted us to know he felt something special about our group. Everyone was deeply moved.
That night, as the boats rocked gently, everyone slept soundly. In the morning, we would sail up-river to the docks, and our days at sea, for the time being at least, would be over. But we knew it wouldn’t take much prodding to get us to come back again.

This year we did some family history activities, and I learned about my ancestors. Mama said both the women and the men in my family had very long hair, just like me. Then she said one very important thing: my ancestors are waiting for me in the spirit world! She said that they are waiting to be baptized—just like I had to wait until I turned eight to be baptized. (By the way, I was baptized on my birthday! Cool, huh?)
Mama said my ancestors are in the spirit world. They don’t have bodies like me, so they cannot be baptized. So sad! That’s why we get to be baptized for them in the temple. I told Mama that once the temple is built in Bengaluru, and once I am old enough, I want to be baptized for them.

Whenever a prayer is offered on a date, whether kneeling in your home or in the mountains, the important thing is to have faith and be in tune so that after your prayer is offered you are prepared to listen for and expect an answer. This is beautifully illustrated by the testimony of a young girl who attended summer camp. During her camping experience it was suggested by one of the leaders that the girls might want to find a private spot in nature where they could be by themselves and talk with God. Some weeks later in a fast and testimony meeting, Becky stood up and told about how she had found a private spot, knelt down in a quiet, wooded area surrounded by tall pines and a few quaking aspens, and offered a simple prayer: “Father in heaven, do you know I’m here?” She went on to tell how she waited and waited, and as a breeze fluttered the leaves, she opened her eyes to see the rays of sun filter through the trees. She said a feeling came over her, and with deep emotion these were her words, “You may not think it was anything, but I knew He knew I was there.”

As you seek earnestly for direction you will want to remember the admonition given in the Doctrine and Covenants: “Be thou humble; and the Lord thy God shall lead thee by the hand, and give thee answer to thy prayers.” (D&C 112:10.) And finally, in paraphrasing the words of Becky’s testimony regarding prayer, “There may be some who will not think it is anything, but you will know that He knows that you are there.”

I once sat in the Provo Tabernacle and heard a man from Hawaii tell a story that is deeply embedded in my mind. He may be the biggest liar in the world—I don’t know. I just know that this is what he said. He said, “I own some land in Hawaii, and I have dedicated part of that land as tithing—the best tenth part. About fifteen years ago [and I know this is true], there was a huge tidal wave that originated up in Alaska, swept down through the Pacific Basin, and killed many people. I was in Hawaii working on my property at that time. I didn’t think much about the weather; it was a nice day. Suddenly I heard my wife drive up behind me in our old rattletrap truck. She said, ‘We must leave immediately.’

“I said, ‘Why?’

“She said, ‘I just heard over the radio that there’s a huge tidal wave coming this way and we just have time to get away.’ I looked out to the ocean, and sure enough, I could see it. I don’t know how tall it really was. It looked as if it were three hundred feet tall—a wall of solid water coming right toward me with a tremendous roar.”

Then he told me how he reacted. In the telling of what he did, he made me analyze what I would do, because this man knew who he was and what powers he could command. I wondered if that was the same conclusion I would have come to, or if I’d have seen myself as just another puny man of the twentieth century—about to be overcome by the population explosion and pollution and the decay of the government and all those other problems that preoccupy our conversation—and therefore I would have gotten in the truck and run away. That may not have been such a bad choice, except that this man knew who he was and what he was about. He said, “I don’t know why I did this, but I said to my wife, ‘Get in the truck and leave.’

“She said, ‘No, no, you must come.’

“But I repeated, ‘Get in the truck and leave.’

“She got in the truck and left. I went up and I stood on the tenth part that I had consecrated to the Lord. I don’t know why. I really don’t think that land is any more sacred than any other; I just felt better there. I stood on that particular piece of consecrated land, and I raised my hands forward and out at shoulder level.”

I thought, “Why would he raise his hands like that? We don’t do that in the Church.” I wondered if maybe he’d recently seen Charlton Heston in The Ten Commandments. But apparently it made him feel better to raise his hands like that, and in every move and every choice he was making, he was revealing the kind of person he saw when he looked in the mirror. He said, “I raised my hands like this and said these words: ‘In the name of Jesus Christ and by the power of the Holy Melchizedek Priesthood which I hold, I command these waters to part.’ You can come right now and look at my property and see the destruction that happened here and the destruction that happened there, but my land was preserved.” What interested me was that he knew who he was—uncreate intelligence, a potential father of gods who had kept his first estate and was living in the last days, an incipient priest and king.

Before sharing this final story, it's important to mention that this took place in Ecuador, in the 1990s. I want to emphasize that everything turned out okay.

My mission companion and I found ourselves in the countryside, about 5 or 10 miles outside of town, as the sun began to sink toward the horizon. Facing a long walk back, we decided to hitchhike from a busy road. Within minutes, a bus pulled over, and the driver called for us to hop on.

I was unsure about the offer, seeing the bus was full of passengers. So full that some were clinging to the outside of the bus. Instead of squeezing inside, we made a quick decision to climb onto the roof, where bundles of produce and luggage were secured to a metal rack. Within moments, I found myself on top of a bus speeding down a winding Ecuadorian highway. Leaning back against a bunch of plantains, I gripped the metal bars, questioning my life choices at that moment.

However, my initial regret dissipated as the once hot and humid air became a cool, refreshing wind. I began to marvel at the lush, rolling hills from the elevated vantage point and unobstructed view. The bus made a turn near the crest of a hill, revealing an even more breathtaking scene. The sun's golden glow bathed the landscape, casting light over the town and the distant ocean coast. The sun and clouds near the horizon painted an unforgettable sunset. At that moment, my heart swelled with gratitude, offering a brief but powerful glimpse of Heavenly Father's love for me and all His children.

I've reflected on this moment many times and feel it lines up with my message today.
When these three things came together, I felt the Spirit in a powerful way that has stuck with me and sustained me for many years since.

Having successfully obtained a bachelor’s degree, I decided to enrol for a master’s programme at Iowa State University. I met my future husband there; he was not a member of the Church. And as he was on a sabbatical from Oxford University in the UK, he had to return after being in Iowa for a year.

We were married the day we flew out to the UK. It wasn’t easy in the UK to find a house that we could afford. House prices had nearly doubled in the year my husband was in Iowa, and obtaining a mortgage was difficult, carrying an interest rate near 15 percent. Eventually we bought a house in Headington, Oxford, and bought a car.

Up to this point, I hadn’t attended church at all. Once settled, I discovered where the Church held its meetings and attended, but only twice. Although I could drive, I was afraid to do so in Britain. My husband had to drive me there and pick me up afterwards. It was easier not to go to church. Thus began my wandering through the wilderness.

I wasn’t particularly happy in my first year of marriage, but not through any actions of my husband. I was simply lonely, without my family, my friends, my things, and my old familiar life and comforts. I couldn’t make new friends; I was completely reliant on my husband. I was isolated in a new country among strangers. My self-confidence began to wane. I started to question my identity. Was I American, Japanese, Hawaiian? Where did I belong—in Britain, America, Hawaii? I felt totally lost and wanted to go home. But where was home? I couldn’t answer those questions. I was miserable.

Then a little miracle came into my life, my firstborn. People suddenly became friendlier, it seemed, because of this sweet jewel in my arms. My life began to settle down. A couple of years later and another bundle of joy. Then nine years later, a third jewel appeared. By this time, I was settled and relatively happy. I felt very much accepted by society. I had made friends, understood and accepted the British way of life, and was loving it.

But then cracks began to appear. As the children grew older and left the family nest, the cracks grew wider and deeper. I became unloving and deceitful. I was in deep misery. After awhile, I started to reflect on the days at university in Hawaii, those days when I was in heaven on earth. I so desperately wanted to have that again, but I didn’t know how to get it. (I probably knew but didn’t want to go down that path.)

During one of my trips back to Hawaii to see my mother, I related my early heaven on earth experience to the brother who had introduced me to the gospel many years ago. He simply said, “It was the Holy Ghost.” It shocked me! It had never crossed my mind. His response helped me to put two and two together, but I was stubborn as a mule and would not turn to the Lord. I sought the counsel of man to help me deal with my problems, but soon realised that I was going around in circles. At least, it was a starting point to regaining a sense of self-worth. But it was not enough. I yearned to experience that heaven-on-earth happiness.

It was plain to me what I needed to do, but I still hesitated to do the right thing—to turn my life over to God. I was hesitating because in my mind, returning to Church had some negatives. The Lord would require a commitment that I wasn’t ready to give. So, a few more years were lived in misery.

Finally, I was ready to change, to commit myself to God; I just couldn’t continue as I was. I went to church, talked with my bishop, and took the painful step of repentance. I was afraid of going through this process. I didn’t want to go through it again. It was too painful. It would be too easy to turn away from the Lord—I’d done it once before. Would my commitment stand firm?

But since making this momentous decision, I have learnt to love God and have gained a stronger testimony of the gospel of Christ. My conversion didn’t end there, it was just a starting point, albeit a momentous one. As I’ve attended church, studied the scriptures, and repented continually, I have become a happier person. I have learnt that accepting callings in the Church helps me grow stronger and become more faithful. It helps me develop character, but more importantly my relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, bringing me closer to them. Conversion is an ongoing process, continually trying to live in accordance with the love of God.

“In 1976 an area general conference was held in Copenhagen, Denmark. Following the closing session, President Spencer W. Kimball [1895–1985] desired to visit the Vor Frue Church, where the Thorvaldsen statues of the Christus and of the Twelve Apostles stand. …
“To the front of the church, behind the altar, stands the familiar statue of the Christus with His arms turned forward and somewhat outstretched, the hands showing the imprint of the nails, and the wound in His side very clearly visible. Along each side stand the statues of the Apostles, Peter at the front to the right and the other Apostles in order.
“Most of our group was near the rear of the chapel with the custodian. I stood up front with President Kimball before the statue of Peter with Elder Rex D. Pinegar and Johan Helge Benthin, president of the Copenhagen stake.
“In Peter’s hand, depicted in marble, is a set of heavy keys. President Kimball pointed to those keys and explained what they symbolized. Then, in an act I shall never forget, he turned to President Benthin and with unaccustomed firmness pointed his finger at him and said, ‘I want you to tell everyone in Denmark that I hold the keys! We hold the real keys, and we use them every day.’
“I will never forget that declaration, that testimony from the prophet. The influence was spiritually powerful; the impression was physical in its impact.
“We walked to the back of the chapel where the rest of the group was standing. Pointing to the statues, President Kimball said to the kind custodian, ‘These are the dead Apostles.’ Pointing to me, he said, ‘Here we have the living Apostles. Elder Packer is an Apostle. Elder Thomas S. Monson and Elder L. Tom Perry are Apostles, and I am an Apostle. We are the living Apostles.
“‘You read about the Seventies in the New Testament, and here are two of the living Seventies, Elder Rex D. Pinegar and Elder Robert D. Hales.’
“The custodian, who up to that time had shown no emotion, suddenly was in tears.
“I felt I had had an experience of a lifetime.”2

I had an experience that helped me glimpse what it means to be “clasped in the arms of Jesus”—embraced in the arms of His mercy. I told you of my experience with Elder Uchtdorf in the Winter Quarters Temple. I was so personally moved and powerfully motivated by that experience, I determined to follow Elder Uchtdorf’s example and share that feeling with my missionaries. We took every group of departing missionaries, on their last day in the mission, to the Nauvoo Temple for an endowment session. As Elder Uchtdorf had done with me, I greeted each missionary as they came into the celestial room with a big hug and the words, “I love you.” I expressed my deep appreciation for their service and that they were now able to “return with honor.” I meant every word of it, but I must admit that it was easier to express those sentiments to some missionaries than others.

One elder in particular had given me more than his share of grief. In fact, most of the grays hairs I gained in the mission field came because of him. He seemed to be in trouble all of the time. On more than one occasion, I told him I was going to send him home. He would always promise me that he would try harder—which he did—for awhile—and the cycle would start all over again—disobedience, admonishment and correction, repentance, renewed determination, then slacking off (sounds like all of us, doesn’t it?). I just wanted him to be able to complete his mission honorably. He wasn’t an “all star” missionary, but he made it.

As he came through the veil of the temple into the celestial room, I greeted him with the customary hug and the almost obligatory “I love you.” Tears streamed down his face. His whole body shook with weeping. When he could speak, he whispered to me over and over again, “Thank you for extending me mercy.” It was a tender moment and I, too, shed many tears. My love for him at that moment was unbounded. Then it happened. I understood. Almost as if the veil parted, I sensed a coming day when I would embrace the Savior and with tears of gratitude and love likewise declare, “Thank you for extending me mercy.” How grateful I am for the Lord’s arms of mercy. I am grateful that He has rescued me, not only from physical death and from sins, but also from myself—my fears, my discouragement, my doubts, my feelings of inadequacy. Truly, his arms of mercy are arms of safety and security.

“I don’t know what to do for my social goal,” Maya said. She sat down on the couch and flipped through her Children’s Guidebook.
“Do you like any of the goal ideas in your booklet?” Mom asked.
“The one about welcoming others sounds fun,” Maya said. “It says to introduce yourself to someone new and help them meet other people.”
Maya looked up from her booklet. “But I don’t know anyone I could welcome. Will you pray with me, Mom?”
Mom sat down next to Maya. “Dear Heavenly Father,” Maya prayed, “please help me know who I can welcome. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
After the prayer, Maya thought about her friend Jayden. They always played together when Jayden came to visit his grandma. And now Jayden, his dad, and his brother and sister had moved in with his grandma.
“What about Jayden?” Maya asked Mom. “I don’t think he and his brother and sister know many other kids here yet. Maybe I can help welcome them.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Mom said. “What do you want to do?”
Maya thought for a minute. “Maybe we could have a friendship party!” she said. “We could invite some kids from Primary.”
“That sounds like a great idea,” Mom said.
Maya and Mom chose a day for the party. They called Jayden’s dad and took invitations to the kids in Primary. Then it was time to plan the fun! Maya and Mom came up with some games. They made lots of snacks and decorations.
The day of the party finally came. Maya was excited for Jayden and his siblings to meet everybody.
“Do you think they’ll have fun?” Maya asked.
“I’m sure they will,” said Mom.
Soon everyone came. Jayden and his brother and sister had big smiles. They played games, ate snacks, and made new friends. Maya was happy to see everyone have a good time together.
“Thank you!” Jayden said after the party. “That was so much fun.”
Maya smiled. She was glad she could help Jayden and his family feel welcome and loved. The friendship party had been a success!
This story took place in Canada.

I have a friend who bought a business. A short time later he suffered catastrophic reverses. There just didn’t seem to be any way out for him, and finally it got so bad that he couldn’t sleep. So, for a period of time he followed the practice of getting up about three o’clock in the morning and going to the office. There, with a paper and pen, he would ponder and pray and write down every idea that came to him as a possible solution or a contribution to the solution of his problem. It wasn’t long before he had several possible directions that he could go, and it was not much longer than that until he had chosen the best of them. But he had earned an extra bonus. His notes showed, after going over them, that he had discovered many hidden resources that he had never noticed before. He came away more independent and successful than ever he would have been if he hadn’t suffered those reverses.

There’s a lesson in that. A year or two later he was called to preside over a mission in one of the foreign lands. His business was so independent and well set up that when he came back he didn’t return to it. He just has someone else managing it, and he’s able to give virtually all of his time now to the blessing of others.

But the gospel is best understood in the familiarity and clarity of one’s native tongue. Eric Gemmell, who served in the Slovenia Ljubljana Mission from 2001 to 2003, saw firsthand what a difference it makes for members and investigators to have the Book of Mormon in their first language. He served the first 18 months of his mission before the Book of Mormon was available in Slovenian.
The work was difficult. The first branch of the Church had been established only a decade before. Slovenia had recently gained independence and was in the process of phasing out the former state language of Serbo-Croatian. The missionaries carried copies of the Book of Mormon in Serbo-Croatian and English, which most young people had studied in school. But more often than not, people declined the book because they could not understand either language. Eric remembers how hollow it felt to bear testimony to people of the greatness and importance of the Book of Mormon—and then to have to tell them that he didn’t have a copy in their language.
Six months before Eric went home, the first shipment of copies of the Slovenian Book of Mormon arrived. The branch held a meeting where each member and missionary received a copy. “There was a special spirit in the air,” Eric remembers. He recorded in his journal how it felt to hold such a precious, long-awaited book. “It was like holding the golden plates themselves,” he wrote. After the meeting, the missionaries took the remaining books to use for missionary work. Eric and his companion were so thrilled that when they got to their apartment, they opened the boxes, spread the books out, and took pictures to remember the event. They could hardly wait to share the books with people. With the Slovenian Book of Mormon in hand, not only did the missionaries have more success approaching people, but they also had a way to reinvigorate the testimonies of less-active members who hadn’t been to church in years.
In the last six months of his mission, Eric watched the testimonies of the Slovenian members blossom. “Once they got the Book of Mormon in their native language,” he says, “they really understood it. It sunk deep into their hearts.” Before, speakers and teachers in Church meetings had to read scriptures in Serbo-Croatian and have someone translate and explain some of the words. “It felt like we were limping along on borrowed words from another language,” Eric remembers. When the members started reading the Book of Mormon in their native language, “their understanding of the gospel increased immediately,” Eric says.

A year later, Prince was ready to serve as a full-time missionary in the Kenya Nairobi mission.
“I can say missions change lives,” he says. During the time he served, there was a lot of persecution of the Church in Kenya, with anti-Church sentiments frequently being printed as newspaper headlines.
“As I walked the streets of Nairobi, I was many times accused of joining the Church for the sake of money”. A particularly difficult confrontation with a detractor became his turning point. That evening, he says, “I realized I had to pack my bag and go home or know for myself.”
Prince received his answer.
“For the first time, like the Prophet Joseph Smith, I could say I knew it, the Lord knew it and I could not deny that I was in the true Church.”

Some time before I was called as a General Authority, I faced a personal economic challenge that persisted for several years. It did not come about as a consequence of anyone’s wrongdoing or ill will; it was just one of those things that sometimes come into our lives. It ebbed and flowed in seriousness and urgency, but it never went away completely. At times this challenge threatened the welfare of my family and me, and I thought we might be facing financial ruin. I prayed for some miraculous intervention to deliver us. Although I offered that prayer many times with great sincerity and earnest desire, the answer in the end was “No.” Finally I learned to pray as the Savior did: “Nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done” (Luke 22:42). I sought the Lord’s help with each tiny step along the way to a final resolution.

There were times when I had exhausted all my resources, when I had nowhere or no one to turn to at that moment, when there was simply no other human being I could call on to help meet the exigency before me. With no other recourse, more than once I fell down before my Heavenly Father begging in tears for His help. And He did help. Sometimes it was nothing more than a sense of peace, a feeling of assurance that things would work out. I might not see how or what the path would be, but He gave me to know that, directly or indirectly, He would open a way. Circumstances might change, a new and helpful idea might come to mind, some unanticipated income or other resource might appear at just the right time. Somehow there was a resolution.

Though I suffered then, as I look back now, I am grateful that there was not a quick solution to my problem. The fact that I was forced to turn to God for help almost daily over an extended period of years taught me truly how to pray and get answers to prayer and taught me in a very practical way to have faith in God. I came to know my Savior and my Heavenly Father in a way and to a degree that might not have happened otherwise or that might have taken me much longer to achieve. I learned that daily bread is a precious commodity. I learned that manna today can be as real as the physical manna of biblical history. I learned to trust in the Lord with all my heart. I learned to walk with Him day by day.

For several years, I served as a bishop in my home ward. One day a friend came to me and said, “I feel sorry for you. You have to know all of the bad things people do.” I love my friend, but he couldn’t have gotten it more wrong. As a bishop in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I rejoiced whenever someone wanted to repent and change their life. I never once felt anything but love for them. And I never looked at it as having to know all of the bad things. In reality, Heavenly Father blessed me to see everyone as His child, whom He loves and whom He wants back. I only saw my brothers and sisters who were hurting and who wanted to be clean and worthy again, and I felt Heavenly Father’s love for them, and this became my love for them. I promise you that this is how your bishop sees you. If you’re hurting, go to him.

Joseph wrote these feelings to his wife in an 1832 letter from New York City, where he had gone with Newel K. Whitney to buy goods for the Whitney store in Kirtland, Ohio. He had spent some time walking through the “most splendid part” of the city:
“The buildings are truly great and wonderful to the astonishing of every beholder and the language of my heart is like this: Can the great God of all the earth, maker of all things magnificent and splendid, be displeased with man for all these great inventions sought out by them? My answer is no. It cannot be, seeing these works are calculated to make men comfortable, wise, and happy. Therefore not for the works can the Lord be displeased, only against man is the anger of the Lord kindled because they give him not the glory.”
Then he wrote:
“I returned to my room to meditate and calm my mind. And behold, the thoughts of home, of Emma [his wife] and Julia [his daughter] rushes upon my mind like a flood and I could wish for a moment to be with them. My breast is filled with all the feelings and tenderness of a parent and a husband. … Yet when I reflect upon this great city … my bowels are filled with compassion towards them and I am determined to lift up my voice … and leave the event with God.”
He concluded,
“I prefer reading and praying and holding communion with the Holy Spirit and writing to you than walking the streets and beholding the distraction of man.”25

Now, to my grandson for a moment: Darren, I remember a few weeks ago when we visited your ward sacrament meeting in Arizona. I was seated on the stand and you were assigned to pass the sacrament to those seated there. You passed the bread and the water to me in remembrance of the Savior. In your office as an Aaronic Priesthood bearer, you actually helped me rededicate my life to keeping the commandments of God. Even though I am your grandfather and a Melchizedek Priesthood holder, you used your authority to help me renew my covenants. I was thrilled with that experience we shared together. As I saw the reserved smile on your face I sort of thought you had figured it to be pretty neat too. Did you know that I’ve passed the sacrament during sacred times to the Presidency of the Church, as well as to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and the other General Authorities? Isn’t it terrific that you and I use this same priesthood authority to help each other make these covenants with the Lord?

In Basingstoke, Rebecca Barnsley used social media to promote her ward’s harvest appeal event. On the day, they had a drop-off area at their chapel with the missionaries handing out flyers at the chapel gates. Several members of the local community turned up to donate food. Rebecca said, “It was a huge success and we delivered two carloads of food to the Basingstoke Food Bank.” One of those donating said, “I have a friend who has used the foodbank, they are so important, and I wanted to give and be kind. It’s so important to be kind.”

When my grandma was sick a few years ago, I would stay with her several nights a week. After giving her medicine and tucking her into bed, I would get in my car and drive through a dark canyon to get home. I would play this same song on repeat and cry and cry. I would beg Heavenly Father to give me more patience. To be kinder. To be softer. But most of all, I begged Him to know how I could fix her.
Then, about two years ago, a friend of mine died by suicide. The phone call I received that delivered the news will be etched in my mind for the rest of my life. I beat myself up for months, wondering what more I could have done for this person. How I could have been a better friend. How I could have called more. How I could have invited this person more. I had so many thoughts of regret and self-blame that went on and on.
And finally, I recently hit a point of exhaustion I’d never felt before. My friends, family members, and even coworkers had been opening up to me about their current challenges, and the more they opened up to me, the more I would try to take on what they were struggling with. I was hyperfocused on that idea of “fixing,” and I felt powerless to do so.
So when that song came on at work, tears instantly flooded my eyes as I stopped typing and listened to the music. It was all I could do to mutter a small prayer: “Heavenly Father … I’m exhausted.”
Then God, in His loving grace, answered my prayer by patiently teaching me. These words instantly came to my mind: “You’re exhausted because you’re trying to be the fixer. And that is what I sent my Son to do.”
I felt incredibly humbled in that moment. I’d been trying to do a job that was never mine to do in the first place.
As Sister Reyna I. Aburto, Second Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency, taught: “Sometimes, the natural man or woman in us makes us think that we have been called to ‘fix’ other people. We have not been called to be ‘fixers’ of others, and we have not been called to lecture or to scorn. We have been called to inspire, to lift, to invite others, to be fishers of people, fishers of souls so they receive the opportunity to be spiritually healed by Jesus Christ, our Savior and Redeemer.”1
I’ve learned that because of the world we live in, we will constantly be with people, including ourselves, who are imperfect. And living in an imperfect world means that we will all experience challenges in this life, including difficult things that are beyond our control. That’s why God sent Jesus Christ—so He could help us.
Heavenly Father reminded me that day in my office that it wasn’t my job to heal my grandma. I wasn’t to blame for my friend’s death by suicide. And it certainly wasn’t my role to take on all the burdens and weaknesses of those around me.
Let us remember the Savior “descended below” all things (Doctrine and Covenants 122:8) because He is the Master Healer.
That’s a truth I’m continually learning to hold on to when I feel that need to solve everyone’s problems. I now strive to allow the Savior to guide and teach me.
Our simple mandate from Him is to “bear one another’s burdens” (Mosiah 18:8), which entails loving, supporting, listening, comforting, praying, fasting, forgiving, and serving. We can do that as we turn to follow the Savior. And as we let Him offer His healing hand to us and to those we love, our burdens will truly become light.

During my sophomore year at Brigham Young University, our ward bishopric signed the ward up for a Sub-for-Santa program, through which we would provide Christmas presents for a family in need.
Our ward name, however, kept disappearing from the list of volunteers. As Christmas neared, we still had no family to help. Then one of the bishop’s counselors told us of a family that might be able to use our help instead. When we learned about this family, we all felt certain that we should focus on them.
Linda (name has been changed), who had several sons ages 9 to 15, had fought a grueling battle with breast cancer. During the stress of that illness, her husband had left her. She had just moved from another state to take a job in Provo, Utah, but the job fell through, and she was left with no income.
When we met Linda, we immediately took her into our hearts. We were blessed to see her the way the Savior did—as a great and noble spirit who had overcome many difficult challenges. She was never a project to us; rather, she was an eternal friend. Every member of the ward contributed something to help her and her boys. We were all young college students and poor in our own right, but we gladly gave because we loved her.
Linda came to our ward Christmas party, during which several ward members went to her apartment and filled her cupboards and refrigerator with food. They decorated a Christmas tree and surrounded it with presents for the whole family. They also left her four new car tires and paid her rent for several months. I’m not sure how our meager contributions managed to accomplish all that, but I knew that Heavenly Father had used our sacrifices to bless her.
A year later I was in another student ward, but I returned at Christmastime to visit my previous bishopric. I learned that Linda’s husband had returned to the family and that their finances had stabilized. But then her cancer had returned and claimed her life. I realized that we had helped give Linda her last Christmas.
In feeling “the pure love of Christ” (Moroni 7:47) so strongly through that experience, I learned that real charity is a priceless spiritual gift that propels us to act in the Savior’s place.

After 5 years and a Bachelors degree in Geography and a minor in Communication, I returned to Fiji. Since I had some training to be a journalist, I was a reporter for one of the local newspapers. The agency was excited to have me. They had big plans for me. They wanted me to cover government proceedings during parliamentary sessions. After a short while, I turned in my resignation. I decided to pursue a teaching career.