Gospel Story Finder

I got on a plane one day in Tonga. It was Saturday morning, the Sabbath of the Seventh-day Adventists. The head of the Seventh-day Adventists’ mission in the Pacific got on the plane with me. Down at the airport were his Sunday School children, giving him a send-off, singing hymns and so on. Well, we got on that plane Saturday morning, and we went to Samoa. When we arrived at Samoa, it was Friday, the day before we left Tonga. I just wondered how he was going to straighten out that “seventh day” business. He’d already had one Saturday, one Sabbath, and here he was again in Samoa on a Friday, the day before he’d had the Sabbath. The next day he had another. Now I tried to find him to ask him from which Saturday he was going to start counting the seven days. Well, these things happen. This is going on all over the world.

Listening once in Los Angeles to the plea of President McKay, stake president after stake president pledged contributions to make possible the building of the Los Angeles Temple. They committed. And then he arose and delivered a masterful discourse, maybe the greatest I have ever heard on the subject of temples. In shorthand I jotted down one paragraph which I’m going to quote, but before I do so, let me give this explanation. He told of a girl. a girl. I found later, who was his niece and therefore felt confident in confiding in him. Earlier that year she had been initiated in a sorority, and not long thereafter she had “gone through the temple” (as we say). I wish that verb could be improved-“going through the temple.” I wish we could somehow speak of the temple going through us. I wish that my children had not been confused-it’s my fault that they were-when my wife and I used to say to them, “We are going to do sealings.” They thought that we would take a stepladder and a bucket. It’s a kind of Mormon activism to talk about “temple work.” There is a sense of course, in which it is work; but too rarely do we speak of “temple worship,” which can send us back to our work changed.
A man of God in the temple said in my hearing, “I wonder if the dead are blessed as much as the living by the temple.” I am impatient with people who are impatient in the temple. I am distressed when someone sits behind me with a stop-watch and keeps saying, “They’re five minutes behind. Move! Move! Move!” Isn’t there one place we can go and leave our watch in the locker and rejoice if there are delays, and embrace what is there for us?
Well, on the occasion in Los Angeles, President McKay stopped everyone by saying: “This young lady came to me. She had had both experiences, but said she had been far more impressed with her sorority.” We gasped as you did. President McKay was a master of the pause. He let that wait a minute and then said: “Brothers and sisters, she was disappointed in the temple. Brothers and sisters, I was disappointed in the temple.” But then he finished his sentence. “And so were you.” Then no one gasped. He had us. “Why were we?” he asked. And then he named some of the things. We were not prepared. How could we be, fully? We had stereotypes in our minds, faulty expectations. We were unable to distinguish the symbol from the symbolized. We were not worthy enough. We were too inclined quickly to respond negatively, critically. And we had not yet seasoned spiritually. Those are my words, but they cover about what he said.

Our beloved prophet, Thomas S. Monson, is our example in this regard. The stories of his attention to the whisperings of the Spirit are numerous. Elder Jeffrey R. Holland relates one such example:
Once while President Monson was on assignment in Louisiana, a stake president asked him if he would have time to visit a 10-year-old girl named Christal, who was in the final stages of cancer. Christal’s family had been praying that President Monson would come. But their home was far away, and the schedule was so tight that there wasn’t time. So instead, President Monson asked that those who offered prayers during the stake conference include Christal in their prayers. Surely the Lord and the family would understand.
During the Saturday session of the conference, as President Monson stood to speak, the Spirit whispered, “Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.”
“His notes became a blur. He attempted to pursue the theme of the meeting as outlined, but the name and image of [the little girl] would not leave his mind.”
He listened to the Spirit and rearranged his schedule. Early the next morning, President Monson left the ninety and nine and traveled many miles to be at the bedside of the one.
Once there, he “gazed down upon a child too ill to rise, too weak to speak. Her illness had now rendered her sightless. Deeply touched by the scene and the Spirit of the Lord … , Brother Monson … took the child’s frail hand in his own. ‘Christal,’ he whispered, ‘I am here.’”
“With great effort she whispered back, ‘Brother Monson, I just knew you would come.’”

Your assignment is to follow missionaries on a typical day to find out what it is missionaries do. So you check the address once more and find you’re on the right street. You pass a pile of tree branches and a discarded computer printer. Next to that is a stone pedestal, with a bowling ball sitting majestically on top. Interesting, you think.
As you continue walking, you see what must be the elders’ apartment. It’s not easy to find as it is tucked behind a wall and beneath several large citrus trees.
When you step inside, the first thing you notice is how clean the apartment is. However, luxury isn’t the first word that leaps to mind. The living room is a little light on furniture, and since Elder Brown and Elder Paventy have already claimed the small couch, Elder Burton and Elder Smith get the floor. The hard floor.
It’s seven in the morning, and the four missionaries in the California Anaheim Mission are reading from a study guide and doing some role-playing while preparing for a day of proselyting.
Meanwhile, 40 miles to the north, in the California San Bernardino Mission, Elder Graham is sitting at his desk studying, while his companion, Elder Majeran, is at the kitchen table reading. Their apartment used to be a garage but has been converted to an apartment. At least any oil spills from the structure’s previous tenant are now covered by carpeting.
Ah, the life of a missionary.
Even though it’s safe to say both apartments won’t be included in a home and garden magazine, it really doesn’t matter. The missionaries are trying to keep costs down, and they mainly need a place to sleep and study anyway. For the rest of the day, they’re doing what they were called to do.
Two days, two missions, two companionships. This is what happened.
Elder Tim Paventy and Elder Brian Burton have been missionaries for 17 months. Their missions are winding down, but they’re not. After going over their schedule, they’re out the door by 9:30.
Like many of the missionaries in this mission, they drive cars. So Elder Burton loads up the trunk with copies of the Book of Mormon and Lamb of God videos. Elder Paventy hops in the passenger side, and off they go. The first visit is to a less-active member and his nonmember wife.
9:42 A.M.
As the two missionaries walk through an apartment complex, they see a repairman. His name is Gene, and he has a sewed-on badge on his shirt to prove it. Elder Paventy stops him and asks him if they can talk for a minute. Gene waves them off, saying he’s too busy.
“We tried,” Elder Paventy says.
A few minutes later the missionaries are visiting the part-member family from Colombia. The husband was baptized there before moving to the United States. He explains his Sunday job has kept him from becoming active again, and he’s pleased his wife has agreed to talk to the elders. She is very interested in what they have to say and has lots of questions. Elder Burton, who speaks Spanish, explains things and reads scriptures with her. “When I read the Book of Mormon, I feel the same way I do when I read the Bible,” she says. Elder Burton smiles.
It’s a very productive meeting, and another appointment is scheduled.
“She is really good,” Elder Burton says as he walks toward the car. He understands as a missionary you live for moments like that.
11:05 A.M.
The elders are both enthusiastic because they know their next appointment is with an investigator who is committed to baptism. As they walk to their meeting, a woman approaches the missionaries. She tells them she attended church a few times when she lived in Arizona and would like to know where the nearest chapel is. They write down her address and phone number and tell her they’ll make sure the missionaries assigned to her area stop by for a visit.
As the elders approach the home of their scheduled appointment, Elder Burton says, “I think we should sing here. It will be a good time to do it, and I know she’ll feel the Spirit.”
On a recent tour of this mission, Elder Richard H. Winkel of the Seventy challenged the missionaries to sometimes sing to their investigators. “Elder Winkel promised us our investigators will feel the Spirit. We don’t sound great when we sing, but the Lord blesses the people listening and allows the Spirit to come through. We really like doing it, and it has caught on in our mission,” Elder Burton says.
Elders Burton and Paventy are greeted warmly by the investigator, a middle-aged woman whose daughter joined the Church in Hawaii. The mother saw how her daughter changed and wanted to know why. The daughter called the mission home and requested the missionaries visit her mother. A few weeks earlier they did, and here they are for another discussion.
Before they leave, the missionaries do ask if they can finish with a song. They sing “Love Is Spoken Here.” No, they’re not the world’s best singers. But they’re right. You can feel the Spirit.
12:18 P.M.
The elders need to back the car out of a driveway, so Elder Paventy jumps out and directs Elder Burton. “Mission rule,” Elder Paventy explains. “Whenever we’re backing out, one of us has to check for traffic.” Safely on the road, they’re now on their way to the Anaheim Shores condominiums for some tracting. “Let’s go knocking,” Elder Burton says enthusiastically.
Nobody lets them in, but it’s not for lack of trying. “Sometimes that’s just how it is,” Elder Paventy says.
1:40 P.M.
After a quick lunch, the missionaries stop at a nearby park to look at their schedule. As they check their planners, they decide how to spend the rest of the afternoon. “We have the two member visits to do, and we could tract a little more while we’re out,” Elder Burton says. They’re in agreement, and that becomes the plan.
2:32 P.M.
The member visits are short, and more tracting follows. In one apartment complex, the missionaries stop a woman and her daughter and talk to them. The woman explains that she’s familiar with the missionaries and the Church, but tells them she isn’t interested. Elder Paventy tries one more time for an appointment, but she politely refuses.
“Anything you do as a missionary is stepping out of your comfort zone,” Elder Paventy says. “In high school you were looking for your comfort zone. But I’ve found that on my mission I’m looking to get out of my comfort zone. I’m always searching for ways to do something more.” Maybe at one time it would have seemed odd to go up to complete strangers and talk to them about the Church. But not now. “The Lord has really blessed me that way,” he says.
4:13 P.M.
Elder Paventy and Elder Burton are at it again. This time it’s with a man in his 20s. As they walk through a neighborhood they stop to talk to him. They engage him in a conversation for several minutes, but he doesn’t give them his address or phone number.
4:29 P.M.
It’s getting close to dinner. That night they have two more appointments scheduled. But it’s time for you to part ways with these missionaries. You’re off to the California San Bernardino Mission, and there is Los Angeles rush-hour traffic to battle.
9:28 A.M.
Elder Darren Majeran and Elder Josh Graham say a prayer, grab their bike helmets, and head out the door. No car for them. They need to get to Bonnie Brae Street for an appointment with an investigator, but they have a little time before that so they go on two callbacks to people they’d met last week. They pedal down the driveway and onto the street.
9:55 A.M.
There is no answer at either home, so back on the bikes they go. Their investigator on Bonnie Brae likes what he has heard about the Church, but he is having a problem understanding the concept of the priesthood and authority. They’re prepared to try to answer his questions.
10:07 A.M.
The investigator seems happy to see the missionaries. He has read two of the pamphlets the elders left with him on their last visit, and he’s prepared to discuss them. He seems very earnest in his desire to learn. He’s just not sure he can accept what they are teaching.
11:20 A.M.
“I thought it went okay,” Elder Majeran says after the meeting. “It’s just going to take some time.”
Next stop: the corner of Harvard Street and Ramona Avenue. The missionaries lock their bikes to a stop sign and begin going door to door. Elder Majeran and Elder Graham go to 19 houses, but very few people are home, and nobody invites them in.
12:15 P.M.
The missionaries break for lunch and talk about what just happened and what’s ahead. Elder Graham has been a missionary for about seven months, and he’s settled into a daily routine. “I guess the work has been the way I expected it to be. I haven’t done quite as much teaching as I thought we would,” he says. “But when you do, and you see people make changes in their lives and know you’ve been a part of that, it’s great.”
He continues: “If we tracted for a whole day and did nothing else, we’d probably get in maybe two or three doors.”
“We do a lot of talking through screens,” Elder Majeran adds. “But we usually have pretty good success once we get in.”
Today won’t be one of those days, however.
1:22 P.M.
It’s more of the same in the afternoon, although there is something to look forward to tonight. A family committed to receive baptism is scheduled for a sixth discussion, and another family in the ward has invited the missionaries to dinner.
7:03 P.M.
With dinner concluded (“The chicken was really good. Sister Wilson is a great cook,” Elder Graham says), the missionaries end up teaching a discussion to a person referred to them by a member. That is followed by the discussion to the family scheduled to be baptized.
9:35 P.M.
Another day is complete. Elder Majeran is tired but happy. “Not bad. We got a lot done today,” he says. As they change from their proselyting clothes and get ready for bed, they make phone calls to the zone leaders and the ward mission leader.
Your job is done too. You realized after two days that missionary work is still challenging. It takes a lot of hard work and effort, and there are highs and lows. But both companionships remained optimistic and excited about missionary work. All four told you that being missionaries is what they need to be doing.
You shake hands and say good-bye. Your work is done. But theirs isn’t.
After all, tomorrow awaits.

During my mission, I got to see so many people change for the better because of the gospel. And it filled my heart with joy every day. But every time my companion and I taught families, I was reminded of my own family, especially my mother, who was not a member of the Church. Every preparation day, I tried to encourage her through my emails to meet with the missionaries. I prayed that Heavenly Father would prepare her heart to receive the gospel.
I was still on my mission when the inspired change occurred regarding missionaries’ communication with their families.1 When I first heard the news, the Spirit let me know that this was an opportunity to invite my mother to learn more about the gospel. I felt a lot of joy about that change and that feeling. During the week, I asked the Lord to help me know what He would have me share with her.
When preparation day arrived and I saw my mother through my computer screen, I had a strong impression that we should say a prayer. I expressed that feeling to her, and she agreed. During the video call, I explained to her the main message I was trying to share as a missionary: that the gospel of Jesus Christ had been restored. I testified with all my heart that I knew it was true. I also invited her to pray and ask God about these things to know for herself. We finished our conversation with a prayer that she offered. We both felt the Spirit so strong that it pierced our hearts. After the call, I sent a referral to the missionaries in her area.
I waited anxiously for the next week to hear from her again. Just as we had done the first time, we started our video chat with a prayer, and then I listened to the Spirit to know what to share with her. We did this for weeks. Eventually, to my surprise, she started to meet with the missionaries. And I noticed a new glow in her eyes.
When I returned home, I went with my mother to her lessons with the missionaries. In one of those lessons, she, with a smile on her face, expressed her desire to make covenants with the Lord. I was shocked to hear how she had received the answer that the gospel was true! Again, the Spirit filled the room and testified to our hearts that we were witnessing truth.
And so, just a few weeks after returning home, I witnessed one of the greatest miracles of my mission: my mother entered the waters of baptism and made a covenant with Heavenly Father.
Tears ran down my face when I saw her go down into the water. When I hugged her afterward, we were both feeling a lot of emotions, but mostly we felt God’s love for us. She looked me in the eyes and said, “I felt like God hugged me and welcomed me. I know that He was waiting for me.”
As I heard my mother’s words, my testimony was further strengthened, and I knew then with all my heart that Heavenly Father hears our prayers and can help us share the fruit of the tree with others—especially our own family.

Sometime ago while visiting China, President Moore, former President of PCC, and I were in Jilin, China, with Elder Kwok Yuen Tai, the Area President for Asia. As we were invited to dinner with the provincial governor of Jilin, the governor of the province ask if we would like to bless the food. This was so unexpected it touched Elder Kwok Yuen Tai so much he suggested that President Hinckley should visit China.

While again on another recruiting trip with BYUH in South Korea, I had received an urgent call from Les Moore to plan to travel to Guangdong Province to arrange a welcome for President Hinckley into China after the dedication of the Hong Kong Temple. Feeling somewhat nauseous I quickly left my hotel and caught a flight to Hong Kong and then a train ride into Shenzhen, China, were I was met by a dear friend, Mr. Ed Ngan. Several years ago we had signed an agreement of cooperation with the Shenzhen operation owned at that time by China Travel Service (CTS). The sister organization had actually mirrored an almost exact facility like BYUH and the PCC due to the impression felt by the creator Mr. Ma Chin Ma, upon visiting the Polynesian Cultural Center in spring of 1989.

Their cultural park was built with 26 ethnic minorities represented throughout China. The replicated villages surround a large lagoon — about three time the size of the Polynesian Cultural Center.

Upon my arrival I met with our Chinese associates, reviewing the details of this momentous visit of the President of the Church in China. It was a surreal situation as we met with the officials of China Folk Cultural Village. I on one-side of the table and 15 managers and directors with their Chairman, Mr. Zhang Kin Kui on the other side. Maybe my size evened the table. I shared with them that the President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints wanted to visit Shenzhen after the dedication of the Hong Kong Temple and how important it was to prepare his visit. Traveling with him was Sister Hinckley, a member of the First Presidency, President Monson, apostles Elder Maxwell, Elder Wirthlin, and the Area President, Elder Kwok Yuen Tai.

The one major concern of the group was how they would position President Hinckley's visit into China, knowing he was the religious leader of a Christian faith which required governmental approval from Beijing.

Unknown unto me within this group arranging his visit was a gentleman who represented the security apparatus from Beijing, Mr. Zhang Zheng Kui. At the height of our discussion he assured me through an interpreter not to worry, "that President Hinckley will feel as though he is coming home."

I thought to myself how an individual of his stature, and political association, eliminated all barriers to this visit. I later told him how much I sincerely appreciated his assistance in this whole matter, because I was almost a total wreck. I didn't show it, but I was. His response to me was, I want to thank BYU-Hawaii and the Polynesian Cultural Center for helping and taking care of my son while attending school here at Brigham Young University Hawaii, and this is my way of expressing my gratitude for the care done for my son. "I feel as though we are family helping another family member," or in my words, "No More Strangers."

At the conclusion of the temple dedication we hopped onto a bus heading northward into China. We were met at the border by associates who quickly expressed our entry through the visa office in record time, from the point of the visa office a police escort of a dozen motorcycles whisked our travel group to their Cultural Center. As we entered the Shenzhen area there were literally thousands of people on both sides of the road waving US and Chinese flags. I would like you to relive with me that event: [Video clip]

This was my first experience with the paparazzi. I next directed the group to visit the adjacent park, Windows of the World. We exited our carts with President and Sister Hinckley leading the way. We walked up the side of a replica of the Coliseum in Rome, some 100 steps from the bottom to the top, with the President almost sprinting to the top with Sister Hinckley. As he and Sister Hinckley got to the top he said, "Wow this is incredible!"

In the evening a large banquet in his honor was held. At the banquet Mr. Zhang Zheng Kui welcomed President and Sister Hinckley. He said this in English and was quite nervous about saying this: "President and Sister Hinckley, ALOHA!
We welcome you and Sister Hinckley to Shenzhen and hope you have enjoyed your travel to China."

He then stopped, he was so nervous. He called for his interpreter. He told President Hinckley through his interpreter this welcoming sign was taken from the road to welcome him. It said, "We welcome President Hinckley, President of the Polynesian Cultural Center." Everyone on his table chuckled. A response from President Hinckley could be heard, "Well, technically that is right!"

No one embraces the fact that the world is a world family more than President Hinckley. I detected no more strangers, but fellow citizens with the Saints.

Hip: I had a roommate who was engaged. One day we were talking about his upcoming marriage, and someone asked, “What are the commitments you two think will help you stay strong?” His answer was, “Not keeping the law of chastity could destroy our relationship. So we decided that we wouldn’t do anything we would not feel comfortable doing in front of the bishop or our parents.” That still has an influence on me.

The choirmaster of St. Michael’s Church looked up in surprise at the two travel-stained young boys the doorkeeper had just brought into the room. “What’s that you say?” he asked, turning to the youngsters. “You want to sing in my choir?”
“Oh, yes, sir. Please take us into your choir and school,” both boys answered at once, their eyes lighting up and brightening their faces in spite of their tired, dusty appearance.
“You must be able to sing well to join the choir of St. Michael’s,” the choirmaster said. “But first, tell me about yourselves. What are your names, and where are you from?”
“My name is Sebastian Bach,” the younger of the two boys said. “This is my Georg Erdmann. We have come from Ohrdruf.”
“Bach. Ah, yes,” the choirmaster said. The musical Bach family, he mused. How well they are known throughout the countryside. “But tell me,” he said, turning to the boys and staring into their dusty faces, “Ohrdruf is two hundred miles away. Surely you did not walk all the way here to Lüneburg.”
“Yes, sir, we did,” Sebastian answered.
“Except when a kindly old man gave us a ride in his oxcart,” Georg added.
“Sir,” Sebastian said. “We have a letter for you from our choirmaster in Ohrdruf. He told us to come here.”
“He said that to sing in your choir would pay for our tuition and lodging at St. Michael’s,” Georg added.
“Yes, that is so,” the choirmaster said, “and you must sing well, or Elias Herda would not have recommended you. But now you must have food and rest. Tomorrow we shall hear you sing.”
Sebastian and Georg ate heartily the soup and bread that were placed before them. When they finished, they sat wrapped in blankets before a warm fire. Soon they were sound asleep.
The next morning, when the choirmaster saw how easily they could read music and heard what clear, beautiful tones they sang with, he was delighted. “Yes, indeed,” he said, nodding his approval. “We certainly have a place for such fine voices in our choir.” Turning to Sebastian, he said, “Even for a Bach, your musical training has been superior.”
“My brother Christoph taught me a lot the last five years,” Sebastian told him. “When my parents died, I went to live with him in Ohrdruf.”
Sebastian’s home had been in Eisenach, Germany. Like almost all the other male Bachs, his first name was Johann. His family was very musical, and there was always much singing and music-making in their home. In fact, once a year all the Bach relatives gathered together for a three-day music fest.
When Sebastian went to live with his brother, Christoph taught him to play the clavier, which was a forerunner of the piano. Christoph taught him to play other musical instruments, too, and it was the organ that thrilled Sebastian the most. He loved to sit in church and listen to the music flowing from the mighty instrument. It was the most beautiful music he had ever heard. Now that I am in the choir school, I want to learn to play the organ better, he thought.
Sebastian eagerly began his new life at St. Michael’s. There were other lessons to study, but he was happiest when it was time for music. When his voice changed and he could no longer sing in his fine soprano tones, he played the violin and other instruments in the church orchestra. He spent countless hours practicing the music of the great masters and learning from them. Many, many years later Johann Sebastian Bach would be considered one of the greatest masters of music, but today he was just a young boy eagerly learning all he could from the opportunities he found before him.
One of those opportunities was that of studying the organ with the accomplished Georg Böhm, organist of St. John’s Church in Lüneburg. Sebastian loved to send the music echoing through the church, sometimes softly, sometimes loudly. Melodies began to flow through his mind, and he wrote them down.
During his lifetime Sebastian became famous as an organist. Most of the music he wrote was played or sung in churches. But although he wrote a vast amount of music, very little of his work was published in his lifetime. It was not until Mozart, and later Beethoven, heard the music of Johann Sebastian Bach and taught it to their students and presented it to the world that people realized what a great genius Bach was. March 21, 1985, will be the three hundredth anniversary of his birth. Today, Johann Sebastian Bach is still bringing joy to those who listen to his beautiful music.

I once investigated an airplane accident where a young lieutenant was trying to practice the basic fighter maneuver called a pop-up attack. The plan called for him to approach the target at low level and high speed, acquire the target, then pull up abruptly, and, at the appropriate altitude, roll over and attack the target at a 20-degree dive angle—for more effective weapons effects. This particular lieutenant tunneled his vision solely on the target, not paying attention to anything else, and suddenly he found himself in the clouds. But if you’re in the clouds and your only reference is the ground, then you’ve lost the ability to effectively continue the attack.

Instead of discontinuing the attack and executing the appropriate escape maneuver as he’d been trained, the young pilot thought, “Well, I remember where the target is, so I’m going to keep going.” Because he’d had no real reference, he’d flown too high. So when he rolled over, he exited the clouds at a steep 45-degree angle and was flying much too fast to avoid hitting the ground. Realizing his mistake, he immediately pulled the ejection handle, just prior to the airplane impacting the ground. Because he failed to perform a single basic maneuver, he lost a valuable combat aircraft and came within about a half second of losing his life.

When the missionaries took us to church in Frankfurt, Germany, I met a young man who appeared to have an obvious interest in me. He always tried to be close to me. He even influenced the sacrament table seating so he could pass the sacrament to me.

It took me quite a few years to realize that he was the man I wanted to be with for the rest of my life and beyond. He had finished a major part of his education and had spent two years far away from Germany to become a fighter pilot in the Air Force. He was quite insistent in his courting, and a true gentleman. He is still very much the same in this regard.

We married and soon had two children, a girl and a boy. When they grew up, they married, like us, in the Swiss temple. Now we have six grandchildren and five great-grandchildren. They are our treasure at the end of the rainbow. We love them and they love us. Some of them have already served missions.

All these blessings came into our lives because two missionaries had the desire and the courage to serve. These blessings came to us because temples are a central part in our conversion stories. They came about because the gospel and Church of Jesus Christ is back on earth again.

Ever since my conversion at age 14, I have wanted to serve a mission. I would watch the missionaries as they worked; I saw that they were clean-cut and spiritually minded and that they wore name tags inscribed with their own names as well as the name of the Church. Each missionary was special, but they were all uniformly dressed and they all wore that same black tag.
When I was 21, I was called as a missionary to serve in my own country, in the Peru Trujillo Mission. I can clearly remember the night each missionary arose one by one to receive his or her name tag from our missionary training center president. I could feel the Spirit, and my heart pounded with joy.
“Elder Augusto Sánchez!” I heard my name, and with a quick jump, I rose to receive the badge that would, for the next two years, identify me as a full-time servant of the Lord. I cried as the president attached the tag to my left pocket and sealed the moment with a warm clap on the back. I felt I had to lift my left shoulder higher, because really, the name tag was heavy—I was carrying a great responsibility.
Now I am in the mission field, and it is a great privilege to be in the ranks of those who are called by God and who are trying to do His will and not our own.
I know that if I remain worthy, the Lord will inscribe His name on my countenance and on my heart—as well as on my name tag.

Janet: On my first night at BYU, I fell asleep in a daze of excitement for what was ahead, nostalgia for things left behind, and apprehension about the new chapter in my life. It is always hard to close the door on a segment of our lives until we find a window and catch a glimpse of the future.
During those first few weeks, I didn’t just love my classes, the mountains seemed to be closing in on me, I wondered where all the cute boys were, I missed the familiar food from home, my bed didn’t feel right, I had a hard time deciding how much time to devote to each class, there were ten thousand people in my biology section (imagine what I would have thought today), and my roommates didn’t like to go to sleep to my music.
I remember few times in my life when I was so discouraged. I used to walk from my dorm to the Eyring Science Center for my first class each morning almost on the verge of tears, thinking of how lonely and how far from home I was. “Was the fun part of my life over?” I used to wonder.
So many times now when I drive across campus I go past Heritage Halls, where I used to live. I think about the “me” of long ago, and I think about each one of you. Sometimes I drive slowly and try to see your faces. Occasionally, when I think I see a forlorn face, the motherly instinct in me wants to jump out and give you a hug and tell you it will be all right. I wouldn’t lie to you and tell you that life doesn’t have its disappointments. I would just talk with you about this all-important principle of perspective, and I would tell you what I wish I had known that first year: that life doesn’t have to be perfect to be perfectly wonderful.

His reaction to Sister Smith’s Relief Society call was an immediate vote of confidence. “President Kimball came to our home and said, ‘Barbara, I have come to call you to be the president of the Relief Society of the Church.’ And then he turned to me, and he said, ‘Douglas, would you sustain her in that call?’ At that moment I felt that the President of the Church was giving me a special call, a call to sustain my wife. And that was my call to service. I told President Kimball that Barbara had sustained me for the thirty-five years that I had been involved in Church service, and that it would be an honor for me to sustain her—which I have tried to do.”

The first few years of our marriage seemed nearly perfect. After my husband and I were sealed in the México City México Temple, we both graduated from the university and our first daughter was born. My husband had a good job and was called as bishop in our ward. Then we were able to move to Jalisco, a part of México where my grandparents had lived. We had always dreamed of rearing our children in a peaceful place, and Jalisco met the desires of our hearts. Our way of life, however, would soon change dramatically.
In Jalisco, our second daughter was born. Unfortunately, I suffered severe complications after her birth. We were able to meet the expenses from our savings, but then, two weeks later, my husband lost his job. With no income, we had to move from our house. Credit card bills, car payments, and rent were strangling us.
Eventually, my husband began to work nights as a taxi driver. Frequently his expenses exceeded his income, but his work did bring a little food to the table. Then the car broke down, and even that little source of income ended. We sold or pawned many of our possessions. At the same time, México underwent a serious currency devaluation, which added greatly to our financial distress.
My husband was emotionally and physically exhausted, so I got a job as a teacher in a bilingual elementary school. The work was hard, the salary small, and I had to leave my little ones in the care of a Church member. To save money, we moved to a cheaper place in a poorer section of town.
As I struggled to go to work, care for the family, keep up the house, and participate at church, I became very depressed. One terrible night I was so distressed I had to be hospitalized. After giving me a sedative, the doctor said, “You’re drowning yourself in your problems. That’s for cowards, and I don’t think that is what you are. Think about it.”
Her words resounded in my mind, and I closed my eyes, searching for something to give me courage. I reviewed my life. Yes, all our material possessions are gone, I told myself, but I am still alive, and I have a wonderful husband and two precious daughters. I remembered I had not been born to accumulate goods or to live in tranquillity. I had come to serve my family and others and to build the kingdom of God.
When I returned home, I prayed as never before. I pleaded with my Heavenly Father to strengthen me. I spoke with my bishop, and he told me, “The Lord will remove from your path that which is hurting you.” The following day I learned that I had been fired from my job without any explanation. That same day I learned I had been granted a scholarship to further my education. Being able to spend time teaching my little ones did a great deal to heal my spirit.
One morning the telephone, which had not worked for months, rang to bring the news that my husband had received a job as a teacher. The phone immediately stopped working again, but it didn’t matter. My husband had work!
As never before, welfare and self-reliance principles took hold in our home. I learned to process wheat and soybeans for storage. I planted corn near the sidewalk, then received permission to plant a garden on property belonging to friends. God blessed our little garden. It produced an abundance of food, including squash and alfalfa.
The hard work—and the food I was able to store—tamed my fear and filled me with hope. As my attitude changed, I was able to see the hand of the Lord in our lives. We were blessed with good health; none of us even had a cold. Never, even in the most difficult times, did we stop feeding the missionaries. The children always had food, and we had plenty of invitations to eat with friends. One day I was finally able to buy a second cylinder of propane for our stove. Immediately the contents of the previous one ran out. Typically, a cylinder lasts six weeks, but this one had lasted for months.
Out of our trials we learned some important lessons. We learned to value the counsel of our leaders. We learned to receive; it is good to serve, but it is also important to let others serve you. Both my husband and I were able to get additional job training without paying for it. My beloved in-laws were always conscious of our needs, and I found in my mother-in-law a great friend.
And our marriage grew and was strengthened. One night my husband took me in his arms and said, “I don’t care if they put us out on the street. If you are by my side, I will have the courage to start all over again.”
Perhaps most importantly, we came to see things from an eternal point of view. We came to understand that both in good times and bad, God shelters us in the palm of His hand.

Brother Soliai and his family were the only Latter-day Saints in their little village of Nuuuli on Tutuila. On one occasion, he asked Opapo to come bless his children, his house, his property, and his friends. Present on that occasion was a wealthy nonmember widow, Salataima Puailoa, who was deeply troubled because her husband’s family was taking steps to deprive her of the land she had inherited from him. Impressed by the blessings, she requested one herself; but Opapo was reluctant because she was not a member.
She investigated the Church and was baptized, then came to him again and requested the blessing. In it, Opapo promised that she would receive the land without any hindrance from her husband’s relatives and that she would, if she were faithful, be an instrument in the Lord’s hands to further the work of the Church in American Samoa.
In the early 1950’s, that blessing was fulfilled. The Church purchased some of her property and on it built a high school, faculty housing, a large welfare farm, and a stake center.

When my wife, Kathy, and I were in Africa a few weeks ago, we visited Mbuji-Mayi, Democratic Republic of the Congo. Because the chapel was not large enough for the 2,000 members, we met out of doors under large plastic coverings supported by bamboo poles. As the meeting began, we could see dozens of children watching us, clinging to the bars on the outside of the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the property. Kathy quietly whispered, “Neil, do you think that you might want to invite the children to come in?” I approached District President Kalonji at the podium and asked him if he would welcome the children outside the fence to come join us inside.
To my surprise, with President Kalonji’s invitation, the children not only came but came running—more than 50, perhaps 100—some with tattered clothes and bare feet but all with beautiful smiles and excited faces.
I was deeply moved by this experience and saw it as symbolic of our need to reach out to the youth who feel alone, left behind, or outside the fence. Let us think about them, welcome them, embrace them, and do everything we can to strengthen their love for the Savior. Jesus said, “Whoso shall receive one such … child in my name receiveth me.”14 In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

My name is Thomas, and I am a gatherer.
This year in Primary we are learning how to gather. Our leaders asked us to gather our families for prayer and scripture study. They want us to practice gathering so we will know how to gather now and when we grow up—on missions, at school, or even when we are alone. That way we can always spiritually gather with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ and find peace in Them.
My job is to gather my family for morning prayer. I ask, “Will you please join me for prayer?” My brother Henry gathers us for evening prayer and scripture study.
One Saturday morning, we left early to play basketball. Afterward, we ran errands. I suddenly remembered and said, “Mom, we forgot to gather to pray.” She told me we could gather when we got home. But I said, “We need to gather and pray right now!” She asked me to say the prayer, but she kept her eyes open because she was driving.
Mom and Dad tell Henry and me how thankful they are that we gather our family for prayer and scripture study. They say our small voices make a big difference in our home. They tell us that because we gather, our family is blessed.

After I had the privilege of speaking with Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, I felt an even stronger desire to represent the Lord as a full-time missionary. Elder Scott rested his hands on my shoulders and said, “Be faithful to the Lord and keep His commandments, and He will inspire you!” This counsel gave me a great feeling of peace. I left my home in Mercedes, Argentina, on 24 March 1996 en route to the Argentina Resistencia Mission.
One day my companion and I did a lot of walking. All our appointments had fallen through, and this area had not had a baptism for nine months. But we were not discouraged—on the contrary, we had a great challenge before us!
As we walked, we both felt inspired to visit a lady we had met days before. When we got close to her house, we felt led to her neighbor’s home. Her neighbor very willingly listened to us, and we both felt the Spirit while we told her about God and Jesus Christ and the role of Joseph Smith.
After a while, I gave her a copy of the Book of Mormon. When I did, she explained, “My father was killed a month ago. He was a member of your Church. Although he did not go to church very regularly, he loved the gospel.” Then, as if it were nothing, she added, “He appeared to me in a dream and told me someone would give me a book. He begged me not to reject it for anything because in it I would find the right way!” Then she continued, “Now I know you are the ones from my dream.” I was astonished, but I felt very encouraged to know that there is missionary work on both sides of the veil.
As I served my mission, I thought about the sweet look on the face of Elder Richard G. Scott as he told me, “Be faithful to the Lord and keep His commandments, and He will inspire you.” That’s just how it is.

Shortly before our wedding, forty years ago, Valérie and I experienced something we will never forget. We were briefly taken hostage during an armed robbery attempt near Paris, France.

We had just pulled into in the parking lot of a local post office when, suddenly, a car blocked our way. Four men armed with sawed-off shotguns came over and forced us out of our vehicle.

Within moments, we were lying face down on the ground, our heads pressed into the grass, with a gun pointed at us while the gangsters attempted to break into the post office. What felt like an eternity passed. Fortunately, they were unable to force their way inside and eventually fled. Valérie and I were left shaken—but safe.

I have often reflected on this key moment, when our lives seemed to hang by a thread. What was going through my mind?

My thoughts and all my energy were focused on one thing: our temple sealing that was just a few months away. During those long minutes, I pleaded with God to spare our lives so that we could be united in His Holy House and sealed together for eternity—that nothing would ever separate us.

I realized more than ever the truth that President M. Russell Ballard taught when he said: “What matters most is what lasts longest.” [9]

Priscilla’s grandparents lived in a beautiful home in Liverpool, England. Though Priscilla was the fourth of nine children and had many cousins, Grandfather and Grandmother Mitchell made her feel like their favorite person in the entire world. She loved to be in their home, and they were always buying gifts for her.
Then, one day, everything changed. Missionaries from America taught her family the gospel, and her parents were baptized. Priscilla and her brothers and sisters planned to be baptized, too. When Grandfather found out, he was angry.
Priscilla had never known Grandfather to be angry before. It frightened her. He shouted unforgettable, sickening words to Priscilla’s father: “Hezekiah, take your family and leave. Don’t ever come back!”
At home, the stunned family gathered around the fireplace. Father had never looked so sad. Mother hadn’t stopped crying since they had left their grandparents’ home.
Priscilla was confused and heartbroken. “Why don’t Grandmother and Grandfather love us anymore?” she cried.
Father tried to explain. “Grandfather is opposed to our new church. He wants no part of it, and he wants no part of us if we continue with it.” Father stood tall. “But I know that Jesus Christ lives. This is His true Church. He will help us find the way, as long as we do everything we can to be like Him.”
Priscilla’s family tried to be happy, but everything seemed to get worse. Father lost his job as a minister in their former church, so money was scarce even though he taught school. Mother mended clothes instead of replacing them. Priscilla tried not to complain, but life seemed to get harder every day. She longed to visit her grandparents. If she could only talk to them …
A knock sounded at the door. Priscilla’s heart leaped with hope, but it wasn’t her grandparents. Uncle George and Aunt Hannah stood on the porch with gifts and a basket of food. Priscilla was happy to see them, but all too soon she was sent outside so they could talk to her parents. It sounded serious.
“Priscilla,” Aunt Hannah finally called. “How would you like to come live with us?” They had no children and wanted to adopt her, Uncle George explained. There would be plenty of room for her in their mansion, and she could receive better schooling.
“It will leave more of the basics for your brothers and sisters, too,” Aunt Hannah added. Priscilla knew that it was a struggle for her parents to feed and clothe all nine of their children. If she went, it would make things easier for her family.
Father gazed sadly at the floor. Mother sobbed into her handkerchief. The offer was kind, but accepting it would not be easy. Priscilla packed her bags and bid her family farewell.
“This will be your bedroom,” Aunt Hannah said. Priscilla had always shared a room with her four sisters. Now she had a room of her own and a maid to clean it.
Aunt Hannah took her shopping to buy pretty dresses. In no time, the closet was full of them. Her aunt and uncle planned parties so Priscilla could meet new friends. Priscilla had many advantages, but she missed being with her family and listening to Father teach as they sat around the fireplace.
On the morning of her 10th birthday, Priscilla was making dancing dolls out of hollyhock blooms in the garden. She was excited for the party to be held that afternoon, but she wished her sisters could come.
Suddenly, she spotted a tall, thin man coming up the road with a walking stick. Priscilla ran to meet him.
“Happy birthday, Princess Priscilla,” Father said. He swept her into his arms and swung her around.
“Oh, Father, you remembered!” she exclaimed.
Together they walked inside. Father pulled a letter from his pocket. “Priscilla, Uncle George and Aunt Hannah have requested to officially adopt you.” Priscilla knew what that meant—she would inherit great wealth and a respected name. She would never need to worry about money again.
“I have more news,” Father said. “Soon your mother, brothers, sisters, and I are going to America.”
“Will you ever come back?” Priscilla asked.
Father shook his head. “George and Hannah love you. They will take care of you and give you more wealth and opportunities than I can ever offer. On the other hand, life in America with the new church will be difficult and require many sacrifices.” Father looked into his daughter’s eyes. “You must choose for yourself, Priscilla.”
Priscilla didn’t hesitate. She ran to Aunt Hannah and hugged and kissed her. “I love you, Aunt Hannah, and I will always remember you,” she said. “But I know that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is true. I must go to America with my family and be baptized.”
And that is exactly what she did.