Gospel Story Finder

“Several years ago, Sister Pearson and I were called to preside over the Washington Tacoma Mission. The call was a complete surprise. With some trepidation I met with the chairman and the CEO of the company where I was employed and informed them of my mission call. They were visibly upset with my decision to leave the firm. ‘When did you make this decision, and why didn’t you discuss it with us earlier?’ they demanded.
“In a moment of clarity, a profound answer came into my mind. I said, ‘I made this decision as a 19-year-old boy, when I made sacred covenants with God in the temple to follow the Savior. I’ve built my entire life on those covenants, and I fully intend to keep them now.’”
Elder Kevin W. Pearson of the Seventy

Oliver and Rosetta Snow, Eliza’s parents, taught their children to listen to people with different religious beliefs and choose for themselves. Eliza soon realized that with so many diverse religious practices, she searched for something firmly founded in Bible teachings. In the fall of 1830, when Eliza was 26, the Snows heard about Joseph Smith, “a Prophet to whom the Lord was speaking from the heavens”—the very model that she had been looking for since her childhood. As much as she wanted the news to be legitimate, she wrote, “I considered it a hoax—too good to be true.” Eliza continued to study the ancient prophets in order to learn their patterns.3
In the winter of 1831–32, Joseph Smith came to the Snow home. As he sat by the fire, Eliza “scrutinized his face as closely as I could without attracting his attention, and decided that his was an honest face.” Even so, her investigative nature led her to observe what happened over time. She attended a local meeting where Joseph and two Book of Mormon witnesses spoke, and she was deeply impressed. Her mother and sister, Rosetta and Leonora, believed and were baptized that spring.4 Still Eliza waited, studying the Book of Mormon, watching and listening.
In the spring of 1835, Rosetta and Leonora went to Kirtland, Ohio, where other Latter-day Saints lived. They returned with stories about the Church, the priesthood, and great spiritual manifestations. Five years had passed since the time Eliza first heard about Joseph Smith. The accounts of her mother and sister brought Eliza an undeniable witness of the truth. She had waited until she knew it was true. “My heart was now fixed,” she wrote. She decided to be baptized.5
Even then, baptism was a challenge for Eliza, a humble woman who followed social rules and propriety. She prayed for someone to come baptize her, but no one came. When she heard of a meeting of the Saints about two miles from home, she asked her father’s permission to go and be baptized—as an adult, she respected her father, and he readily consented. At the meeting, there was no discussion about baptism, but Eliza gained courage to stand up and request the privilege. Before she could arise, a dark fear came over her. She pushed through the fear and was baptized in a nearby stream on April 5, 1835. “From that day to this I have not doubted the truth of the work,” she wrote.
That night, Eliza reflected on her baptism: “I felt an indescribable, tangible sensation, … commencing at my head and enveloping my person and passing off at my feet, producing inexpressible happiness.” She saw in a vision a candle with a long, bright flame, and a voice told her, “The lamp of intelligence shall be lighted over your path.” She was satisfied.6
Eliza moved to Kirtland to join the Saints for a time and taught school. When she returned to her family’s home at the end of the term, her old friends and neighbors asked about the “strange people” with whom she associated. “I was exceedingly happy in testifying of what I had both seen and heard,” she later wrote. Eliza determined to change her life and live permanently with the Latter-day Saints. Her conversion deepened even further in 1837 when she lived with Joseph Smith and his family. Again, she observed. “I had ample opportunity of judging his daily walk and conversation,” she recalled. She saw much more than the miraculous events of the Kirtland Temple dedication—she saw the life and relationships of a prophet of God. “The more I made his acquaintance, the more cause I found to appreciate him in his divine calling.”7
Thirty-seven years after her baptism, with a heart firmly fixed through persecutions in Missouri and the eventual assassination of Joseph Smith, Eliza remained a committed Latter-day Saint. On June 22, 1872, she shared about her conversion with a group of women in Salt Lake City, Utah, USA: “When I heard it announced that the Lord had spoken from heaven and a record had been brought forth I was deeply interested. I prayed unto the Lord to let me know if the work were true, covenanting with him if he did so that I would ever praise his name.” After her baptism, she said, she attended Church meetings. “We were called upon to speak; I dared not refuse for I had promised God I would ever praise his name in the congregation of the Saints.”8 Her continual conversion required her continued witness.
Eliza bore her testimony over a thousand times as she traveled throughout Utah Territory to teach the Relief Society, young women, and Primary children about the Restoration. Her heart was fixed, and she invited others to experience their own conversions and become firm and steadfast.

I guess I had my first run-in with a bee on a hot summer day when I was about five years old. I was minding my own business when suddenly an angry bee flew into my shirt and stung me on the stomach. At least that’s what I told my mom. Actually, I was pulling the petals off of her yellow roses. You know, “She loves me not.” Pluck. “She loves me—ooh, yuck.”
I was just getting ready to prove once and for all that no yucky girl loved me when apparently I found a rose that was already in use. A bee came buzzing out and crawled through a tiny hole in my shirt. I tried holding still, something I’d always been told to do by my brave and more experienced brothers. But I panicked and frantically tried to brush the bee out from under my shirt. Unfortunately, the bee panicked too and stung me.
Inside, as Mom pulled out the stinger and dried my tears, she said, “I know you feel bad. But you should feel sorry for the bee. Once a bee has stung somebody it dies.” As I sniffled and thought about her words, I decided that maybe the score was about even. But nearly ten years later I wasn’t so sure.
When I was 14, I began working for a neighbor who raised bees as a hobby. My job was to take care of his horses, paint fences, mow the lawn, and weed the garden.
The beehives were located in the field behind the garden, and it seemed like every time I was there I’d end up getting stung or chased by some angry bee. I was beginning to wonder if the bees were trying to avenge the death of their long-lost ancestor.
I told my neighbor I was going to need combat pay if he wanted his garden weeded. He told me what I really needed was the right equipment. We went into his basement and he got out his bee suit: thick gloves with sleeves that went all the way up my arms, white pants and shirt because white tends to pacify bees, boots, a hat, and a screen mask that covered my face and head.
Feeling protected, I journeyed outside. Unfortunately it didn’t take long before I felt something crawling around on my head. There was a hole on the top of the mask. I’m not sure who panicked first, the bee or me. I took off running for the house, but before I got very far it was too late.
I guess you could say I got the point that day. But I really got it later when I was reading in Doctrine and Covenants 27:15 [D&C 27:15] where it says, “Wherefore, lift up your hearts and rejoice, and gird up your loins, and take upon you my whole armor, that ye may be able to withstand the evil day, having done all, that ye may be able to stand.”
In my spiritual life, I have learned the whole armor of God is essential to our salvation. We need to check our armor daily to see that it’s in place and in good repair—and that it doesn’t have holes in it. Prayer, daily scripture study, and repentance are just a few of the things that will help us win the spiritual battles we face.
It’s been a while since I’ve been stung by a bee, but I suppose if it happens again it will serve as a pointed reminder of the importance of putting on the whole armor of God.

All of us, for some reason, have come to BYUH. We are not here by chance but there is a reason. Before graduation, I usually send out an email to the prospective graduates inviting them to share something unique about themselves. Usually the Commencement speakers want to know the graduates and perhaps what has brought them here to BYUH. Usually I get answers like, I have siblings who graduated from this school or I have this many kids and I am graduating, or my husband and I are graduating together. Occasionally I will get a reply that is so uplifting and so touching that it brings me to tears. One student told me that although his family were not members, his father had suggested that he come to BYUH. He had been online and came across our website and was impressed by what we offered. In his understanding he was coming to go to school and get an education but he said this experience here changed his life. Unlike many of you who have found your spouse here, he left single, but he left as a member of the church. He shared how the faculty and students and friends that he met here had helped him have an experience that he could not have had elsewhere. He left not only with a degree but with a testimony of the gospel and for that he was grateful. He knows that because he showed faith and came to BYUH that he was blessed.

When he came to the office one day, just after this, I recognized his name and talked to him more about his experience. He told me he still didn’t quite understand how or what made his father go online to check out schools, but it was a blessing in his life. Many of us do not understand why we have come here but if we trust in the Lord, keep his commandments and be obedient, the Lord will be able to guide us and direct us to do what he wants us to do.

Last year I was on the school bus when some older kids asked me if I knew how to read. I told them that I did, and they said, “If you know how to read, read that word written on the bus.” So I did, and to my surprise it was a bad word! I felt so bad, because I want to make Jesus happy, and I know that saying bad words makes Him sad.
I talked to my mom, and now if someone asks me to read something, first I read it in my mind. Then if it is not a bad word, I read it out loud. I want to keep the commandments and follow Heavenly Father’s plan.

I know one elder who saved for six years to go on his mission. He came from a little town in Idaho, and he went all out just to make sure he got his money’s worth. I will never forget when he finished his first year. He said he was going to make a new resolution to make sure he got full value for his money. Instead of starting at 9:00 in the morning to go out and do his missionary work, he resolved to start at 8:00. Instead of getting up at 6:00 to study, he started getting up at 5:00. Why? Because he wanted to get his money’s worth.

Obstacles to sharing your testimony may include uncertainty about what to say. Matthew Cowley, an early Apostle, shared this experience as he departed on a five-year mission at age 17 to New Zealand:
“I will never forget the prayers of my father the day that I left. I have never heard a more beautiful blessing in all my life. Then his last words to me at the railroad station, ‘My boy, you will go out on that mission; you will study; you will try to prepare your sermons; and sometimes when you are called upon, you will think you are wonderfully prepared, but when you stand up, your mind will go completely blank.’ I have had that experience more than once.
“I said, ‘What do you do when your mind goes blank?’
“He said, ‘You stand up there and with all the fervor of your soul, you bear witness that Joseph Smith was a prophet of the living God, and thoughts will flood into your mind and words to your mouth … to the heart of everyone who listens.’ And so my mind, being mostly blank during my … mission … , gave me the opportunity to bear testimony to the greatest event in the history of the world since the crucifixion of the Master. Try it sometime, fellows and girls. If you don’t have anything else to say, testify that Joseph Smith was the prophet of God, and the whole history of the Church will flood into your mind.”

While my husband and I were serving in the Asia Area, we would often walk up Wan Chai Gap, a trail near our home in Hong Kong. The ascent is steep and difficult to climb, particularly on hot, humid summer days.
One Saturday I noticed that I wasn’t enjoying our walk, which seemed more like punishment than exercise. Looking down at the pavement for nearly the entire walk, I felt as though we were never going to reach the top.
I made an interesting discovery that day. When I looked down, my vision was limited to a narrow stretch of pavement. Trudging along, I saw the same narrow view of pavement, pavement, pavement. But when I looked up, I had a gorgeous view ahead of me. I saw trees with bright yellow flowers. I saw birds flying and singing melodious songs. I saw Tai Chi students rhythmically opening colorful fans as part of their exercise routine. Soon we reached our goal, Stubbs Road, and beyond that I saw bright blue skies and fluffy white clouds.

When Greg returned from his mission, he finished up at Ricks, then went on to BYU. He never had satisfied his dream of becoming a student body president, but the thought of presiding over BYU’s 27,000 students seemed overly ambitious to him. His sister Kristie was convinced he could do it though. She helped him find a running mate, served as his campaign manager, and after a lot of hard work, Greg was elected by one of the biggest margins in BYU history.

“That really helped prepare me for where I am now,” Greg says. And actually, he is quite surprised to be in this position at Harvard. He’d already satisfied his goal of serving as a student body president, and knowing how many hours he’d put into the position at BYU, he didn’t think he could handle it at graduate school. After much prayer and a lot of requests from fellow students, however, Greg decided to give it a try. A lot of hard work went into that election too, and it paid off.

Even though Greg has won a multitude of other awards and titles, he feels that some of his greatest satisfaction comes when his accomplishments put him in a position to answer questions about the Church. “I’m constantly being questioned about our beliefs,” he says with a smile. “And I’m always happy to talk with anyone.”

And they’re usually happy to listen. Fellow students scrutinize Greg a little closer than they do other classmates. Not only is he their president, but he’s also one of a handful of LDS people they might know.

Tomorrow he’ll probably be walking Wall Street, but today, on the brisk Monday afternoon, his class discussions are finished and he walks over to one of the numerous meetings he has each week. Many students call out to him, greeting him by name. Some glance at him with a mischievous look in their eyes and call out, “Hi, LARRY!” That’s Greg’s first name, but he hates to be called that and they know it. On the first day of class this year, the student body gave him a standing ovation and shouted out, “Larry! Larry! Larry!” It’s impossible to take yourself too seriously with classmates like that.

Still, many of them ask him how he’s accomplished what he has. “My theory of success,” he tells them, “requires two things—that you work hard, and that you pray hard.” Greg slides into his seat at the head of a large conference table, and the other student body officers begin to file in. He is prepared. He should be. He was up until 2 A.M. making use of his theory of success.

I want to begin today with a personal story.
The Pitchfork
When I was a boy, I loved to visit my grandparents in Cannonville, Utah. They had a farm there, and I loved to ride the horses and the tractors and play in the barn.
On one visit, when I was about 9 years old, I was playing in the barn just before supper. I saw an old pitchfork standing against the wall next to a few bales of hay. I grabbed that pitchfork and jammed it into the hay again and again, just like I had seen my grandpa do. I wanted to get more leverage and more power, so I braced my left foot on one of the bales. I lifted up the pitchfork as high as I could; and then, forgetting that my foot was in there, I stuck it down into the hay with everything I had. That pitchfork went through the hay, through the top of my black canvas sneakers, and right into my foot.
O, that hurt! But I was so embarrassed I went right into dinner and didn't say a word to anyone about my injury. In fact, I didn't say anything to anyone about it for a couple of days.
Now, you can imagine the kind of pathogens that lived on that old, rusty, heavily used barnyard pitchfork. But I didn't think about those germs at all. I looked at my foot, and all I saw was a little puncture wound. I didn't want to tell anyone about the stupid thing I had done, so I said not a word.
My leg started to hurt the next day. At first it just felt like a pulled muscle, and I hid it pretty well. But the second day was much worse. My friends and I went swimming in our favorite pond that second morning. As soon as I put my left foot into the cold pond water, the pain shot up my leg. I was miserable.
I tried to hide the pain, but my Dad saw me limping around and came over to find out what was wrong. I told him what happened in the barn two days before, and he immediately put me in the car and hurried to the hospital in Panguitch. When we got there, the doctor took one look at my foot and leg and said: "It looks like tetanus. You are lucky your Dad brought you in when he did. Any longer and this would have been really, really bad."
The doctor disappeared for a moment and then returned with the biggest needle and syringe I had ever seen. He shot a large amount of penicillin into my left arm; it really hurt. My arm went stiff and I couldn't lift it without pain for two weeks. But that's what it took to kill the poison. And it worked.
When I walked into that hospital, there was poison in my foot and leg, poison that had begun to spread. If I had waited a few hours longer, my life would have been in danger. But the penicillin attacked the poisonous bacteria and worked with my own immune system to rid my body of that terrible threat.

Several years ago, I was basically an atheist.
I had been born Catholic, but from my teenage years until I was 25, I felt as though there was a spiritual gap inside of me. I tried attending different churches, but none of them could quite fill the gap. I decided after a while that it would be easier to give up believing in God than it would be to keep trying to find the right church.
I first learned about the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith from a TV program about people who buy and sell antiques and other valuable collectible items. Someone in the episode I was watching had brought a very old copy of the Book of Mormon to sell.
As an expert explained what gave the book value, she told a little bit about the history of the Church and the book. The expert told the host, “This is by far the most valuable book you’ve ever had me appraise.”
I was impressed by the book and the story, so I decided to learn more.
I did some research, and the more I learned about Joseph Smith, the more I respected him and related to him.
I too had been searching for truth and didn’t know where to find it.
I too had attended countless churches in search of the right one and hadn’t found it.
As I was scrolling Facebook later, an ad popped up for a page called “Come unto Christ.” I didn’t think much of it. However, something drew me in, and I soon found myself putting my phone number into the site.
A few months later, I received a phone call from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
I didn’t answer.
After a quick Google search, I decided to call the number back. The missionaries who answered explained that they’d gotten my information from the Come unto Christ website, and suddenly everything was clear. I’d unknowingly signed up for information from the very Church that I had been learning about.
I started meeting with missionaries and learning more. The spiritual hole inside of me started to be filled. Around the time I was deciding to get baptized, some Christian friends invited me to one of their church campouts.
During the final sermon on the last day of camp, I prayed for God to confirm to me that the Book of Mormon was true. At that exact moment, a student who was studying to be a pastor pulled out the Book of Mormon and said, “Why don’t we read from this book? This book is all about Jesus Christ and is in line with the Bible.” The crowd went silent. I am convinced that this was an answer to my prayer.
After hearing from that student, I felt the Spirit confirm to me that this book is another testament of Jesus Christ. I was baptized soon after.
Since joining the Church, the spiritual hole inside of me has been filled, and my testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon has only continued to grow.
Heavenly Father has helped me know, through prayer and His Spirit, that this is Jesus Christ’s Church. Honestly, I wish I could’ve known about the Church when I was younger. I love this Church. It truly is the Church of Jesus Christ on the earth today.

One day, a lady came to our class at school to teach about Colonial times. She said that the water they had to drink then wasn’t very healthy, so instead they drank tea. The whole class pitched in to make tea and cakes. When the time came to eat, she noticed that I ate my cake but did not drink the tea.
She asked me, “Aren’t you going to drink your tea?”
“No, thank you.”
“Everyone must drink the tea!” she said.
“I’m not allowed to drink tea,” I responded.
“Well,” she said, “tell your parents that you’re a big girl now and then drink the tea.”
My teacher overheard our conversation. She knows that I am LDS, so she came over and said, “She doesn’t have to drink the tea.”
I’m glad I stood up for what I know is right, and I know that my Heavenly Father is too.
Aubrey Potter, age 11Darien, Connecticut

Until I served my mission, I had never read the entire Book of Mormon. I was always active in the Church. My father was a mission president, so I had been exposed to the gospel and to the Book of Mormon as a child. And I had read the early chapters many times, but I had never finished it.
While I was on my mission, in Roanoake Rapids, North Carolina, I started once again to try to read the entire Book of Mormon. I remember sitting up in my bed one night, reading in Alma, when a testimony of the Book of Mormon settled over me like a warm blanket. I told myself, This is true. What I am reading is the word of the Lord. It was a wonderful, warm, quiet experience. From that day on, as we did our teaching as missionaries, I could testify that the Book of Mormon is true.

The temple was built under the direction of the Church Architect, Brother Emil B. Fetzer. He traveled back and forth between Japan and the United States coordinating the architectural and engineering efforts. He was assisted by Brother Wallace G. McPhie, Director of Temples and Special Projects, and Brother Sado Nagata, the resident engineer for the temple. They worked with a major Japanese engineering and construction firm, the Kajima Construction Company, who have associated with them some of Japan’s finest engineers. One of their more challenging tasks was the structural engineering of the central spire. It, as the rest of the building, had to be constructed to withstand the whipping of an earthquake and extreme stress factors relating to wind pressure changes of potential typhoon conditions. The tower was first constructed in parts that were later assemble to rise to its height of 184 feet.
The construction of the central spire presented other challenges, too. It was originally designed to be made of porcelain enamel, a material well suited to withstand the effects of air pollutants common in large industrial cities. When it was discovered that the needed porcelain was not available in Japan, the alternative material chosen after much searching was a satin-finished stainless steel, the only metal unaffected by the corrosive properties of air pollutants. But until the spire was installed in place, no one knew how it might look.
“Some challenges can result in blessings,” Brother Fetzer reported: “The workmanship was of exceptional quality and we are most gratified with the result. The craftsmen in the metal manufacturing shops who fashioned the spire are some of the finest workmen I have ever seen. But we also have an added bonus with the stainless steel of the tower we didn’t anticipate.” He explained. “It is not a shiny surface; it is a satin finish. And we found after the spire was assembled in a place, that it takes on the color of the early morning sunlight, which is a beautiful pinkish color. Then during the daylight hours, it reflects the color of the sky and the clouds, and in the evening when the sun goes down, the tower lights up in the beautiful, warm colors of the sunset. We are absolutely delighted with how the tower is changing colors all day long from hues of soft pink to blues and whites. An unexpected, delightful thing has occurred!
“All the workmen deserve our appreciation,” he added. “None of them except for Brother Nagato are members of the Church, but they are wonderful people. They are hardworking, industrious, likeable, agreeable, and devoted. They asked us many times, ‘Have we done our work as well as on temples in the United States?’ This is one of the finest of our temples so far as workmanship is concerned. They have been conscientious about all the small details and their workmanship is of the highest quality. Some of the workmen have done some of the work on the Emperor’s Palace, and they regarded this building with the same amount of pride and dedication. The contractor and workmen often referred to the temple as their own. They felt a personal involvement with the construction.”
They seemed to sense they were laboring on a House of the Lord and approached their task prayerfully. For example, “When they started to assemble the massive steel beams framing the temple, which were required to meet earthquake standards, the workmen gathered themselves in a group and offered a prayer that they would be able to do the work in the best possible manner and that no one would be injured as the section beams were put in place. In the years of construction, not a single injury was sustained.”

“Once when I was three years old, I was playing with a group of youngsters and we found a box of matches. We decided to light them just for fun. As we were striking them, one fell on me and set my clothes afire. I still have scars on my leg and abdomen as a result of our misbehavior. In those days, doctors didn’t know as much about caring for burns as they do now. As my leg began to heal, the burned tissue and muscle drew up, and my knee wouldn’t straighten out. Every day my parents and the doctor would lean on my knee and try to straighten it a little bit. Then I wore a splint for many months, and finally my leg straightened out. I won a lot of footraces afterward, but it was foolish for us to have played with those matches in the first place.”

Deep snowpack in European mountains and heavy spring rains earlier this year filled the Danube River to its highest level in 65 years, causing severe flooding along the southern border of Romania and down into the Danube Delta near the Black Sea. Runoff was strong and powerful, breaking dikes built several years ago to prevent such flooding.
Fertile farmland was flooded and hundreds of small farms and houses were crumbled in its wake, leaving thousands homeless. Many of the older houses were built with a chalk-like material that crumbles when wet.
Refugee camps were established near many villages. Those living near the Danube fled their homes with only the clothes they were wearing.
With funding approved by the Europe Central Area presidency, Church humanitarian resources, missionaries, and members in Romania provided immediate relief to flood victims. Members from 4 of the 22 branches in Romania, along with 18 full-time missionaries, lined up in a meetinghouse in Bucharest to assemble more than 3,000 hygiene kits and food packets. These packets, with blankets, bread, and bottled water, were delivered to the Spantov, Chiselet, and Manasterea villages along the Danube River.
This was believed to be the largest emergency relief project undertaken by the Church in Romania, said humanitarian country directors Steven and Kristine Johnston.
“I feel so good. I feel satisfied,” said one member from Bucharest as three large delivery trucks were in the final stages of loading. Vasile Andreea and her 15-year-old brother, Vasile Marius-Florin, and a newly baptized member, Cosma Adrian, spent much of the day helping create the kits and loading the trucks. They enjoyed it so much that they found their own transportation to the afflicted villages, located more than 100 kilometers to the southeast of Bucharest, where they helped with distribution.
Many of the more than 3,000 flood victims expressed gratitude for the Church’s humanitarian donation. One woman told missionaries, “Another church brought us little crosses, but the Mormons brought us food.”
Another flood victim told President John Ashby of the Romania Bucharest Mission, “I didn’t know what I was going to eat tonight. All I have are the clothes on my back.”
During a visit to the afflicted area prior to the distribution of the packets, Elder and Sister Johnston met a little boy named Cosmin. His house had been destroyed and he was living under a tarp.
When the Johnstons returned a while later with food, he and his family were nowhere to be found.
“We desperately wanted to find them,” said Elder Johnston. “We promised them we would return with help. We left the distribution to others and began scouring the faces in the crowd of refugees, hoping to find him and his father and mother.
“Near the end of the day, after most materials were distributed, we found them standing off a distance from everyone else, waiting patiently. They were a contrast to the majority who pushed and shoved their way to the front of the line. We were touched by their humility and gratitude. Little Cosmin soon brought us flowers and said, ‘Thank you.’”
“I think [members having the opportunity to serve] was the most gratifying aspect of this project. We hope all the members here know that their Church is truly concerned with the less fortunate and follows the Lord’s admonition to care for the poor and needy,” Elder Johnston said. “The comfort provided by Church members and missionaries made a big difference to many people, both to the recipients and to those providing the service.”

Fast forward several years and thousands of miles to a chapel in the mountains of central Guatemala. As a missionary, I was attending a district conference. I had arrived early and found a piano there, so I sat down and started playing hymns. Most of the wards and branches had small electric keyboards that were hard to play, so I was very excited to play a real piano. I ended up being asked to accompany the congregation for the conference.
What changed my attitude between my younger years and my time as a missionary? I felt the power of the Spirit through music.

When Relan G. Macam (third child of Yolanda Gayatin and Reuel F. Macam of 39-F Tabayok, Sta. Mesa Heights, Quezon City) was born on September 17, 1975, his father and mother gradually fell away from the Church, after being members for only three months.
It was a situation difficult to understand. Both were active in the beginning. Ruel expressed spiritual joy to relatives present during his baptism at being born again together with Yolanda. He developed new interest and experienced excitement in reading and pondering upon the Scriptures. He avoided friends who were inclined to passing time with drinking and smoking sessions. Upon the birth of Relan, his life began to change. Sabbath day did not anymore provide him with a feeling of spirituality.
Home teachers called on the family, only to be turned away by Yolanda with the shallow excuse that household duties occupied her time and that Reuel was busy with provincial assignments. A group from the Elders Quorum of his branch paid a special visit, but Yolanda was prepared with the excuse that her husband was still in the provinces on business (he was in fact upstairs, impatiently waiting for the group to leave). As a last resort, the missionary elders who baptized them tried to bring them back to the Church—without success—as Reuel reverted to his old ways of smoking, drinking and carousing with friends.
Not long thereafter, strange occurrences began to disrupt the family life of the Macams. Relan became sickly, and his parents had to bring him to the hospital at frequent intervals. Unpaid bills and household expenses began to mount, and Reuel soon found himself heavily in debt. He, too, looked pale and sickly. The burden of motherly chores also exacted heavy toll on Yolanda, looking after the other kids in between hospital visits to Relan. Life for the two of them began to look like a trail of thorns.
Then, during one evening of soul-searching, Reuel was jolted by a thought in his mind. Could it be that son Relan was protesting in his cradle of innocence over the wayward life of his father? Could it be that Relan, in his guiltlessness, was telling him that turning his back to the covenant he made was not pleasing in the sight of God?
For, Relan had an extraordinary experience while still throbbing with life in his mother’s womb. On June 21, 1975, when Reuel and Yolanda were baptized by Elder Round in the Quezon City chapel, Yolanda was heavy with child, in fact, six months in the family way with Relan. This baby boy was immersed in the baptismal font with his mother even before he was born into this world!
The second day of January, 1977, a repentant father entered the Quezon City chapel. A cry of joy came from one of the members. “It’s Brother Macam, it’s Brother Macam! Welcome back!”
After having been away from the Church one year and three months, Reuel F. Macam returned like the prodigal son—silently nurturing the thought that his infant son, Relan, showed the way back.—P. Ocampo, Jr.
Editor’s Note: Bro. Macam is now Sunday School President, Quezon City III Ward, Quezon City, Philippines Stake.

On December 28 of this past year, our dear friend and beloved General Authority Elder Bruce D. Porter completed his mortality. He was 64 years old.
I first met Bruce when we were students at Brigham Young University. He was one of the best and the brightest. After he received his doctoral degree from Harvard University, emphasizing Russian affairs, Bruce’s thinking and writing brought prominence that could have derailed him, but the wealth and praise of the world never clouded his view. His loyalty was to his Savior, Jesus Christ; to his eternal companion, Susan; to his children and grandchildren.
Bruce was born with a kidney defect. He had surgery, but over time his kidneys continued to decline.
Shortly after Bruce’s call as a General Authority in 1995, we served together with our families in Frankfurt, Germany, where his work centered in Russia and Eastern Europe.
Life for Elder Porter changed dramatically in 1997 when his kidney function and health began to fail. The Porter family returned to Salt Lake City.
During his 22 years of service in the Seventy, Bruce was hospitalized numerous times, including for 10 surgeries. Doctors told Susan on two occasions that Bruce would not live through the night, but he did.
For more than 12 years of his service as a General Authority, Bruce was on dialysis to clean his blood. For much of that time, the dialysis consumed five evenings a week for four hours each treatment so that he could serve in his calling during the day and accept conference assignments on the weekends. When his health did not improve after several priesthood blessings, Bruce was puzzled, but he knew in whom he trusted.
In 2010, Bruce received a kidney from his son David. This time his body did not reject the transplant. It was a miracle, bringing renewed health and eventually allowing him and Susan to return to their beloved Russia, with him serving in the Area Presidency.
On December 26 of last year, after fighting continuous infections in a hospital in Salt Lake City, he asked the doctors to leave the room. Bruce told Susan “that he knew through the Spirit that there was nothing the doctors could do that would save his life. He knew … that Heavenly Father would take him home. He was filled with peace.”
On December 28, Bruce returned to his family home. A few hours later, surrounded by loved ones, he peacefully returned to his heavenly home.
Years ago, Bruce Porter wrote these words to his children:
“The testimony I have of the reality and love of Jesus Christ has been the compass of my life. … It [is] a pure, burning witness of the Spirit that he lives, that he is my Redeemer and Friend in every time of need.”
“Our challenge … is to come to know [the Savior] … and, through faith in him, to overcome the trials and temptations of this world.”
“Let us be faithful and true, trusting in him.”
Bruce Douglas Porter overcame the world.

In November 2000, President Hinckley spoke to youth in a Churchwide fireside (see “A Prophet’s Counsel and Prayer for Youth,” Liahona, April 2001, 30–41). Have you young adults studied his message and identified things you need to avoid or do differently? I know a 17-year-old who just prior to the prophet’s talk had pierced her ears a second time.

She came home from the fireside, took off the second set of earrings, and said to her parents, “If President Hinckley says we should wear only one set of earrings, that’s good enough for me.”

Wearing two pairs of earrings may or may not have eternal consequences for this young woman, but her willingness to obey the prophet will. And if she will obey him now, on something relatively simple, how much easier it will be to follow him when greater issues are at stake.