Gospel Story Finder

The girls were encouraged to think about their future goals in preparation for a very special fashion show that was also part of the conference. Each young woman either made or coordinated an outfit to wear, and as they were escorted down the runway, their achievements and dreams were capsulized by the emcee.
Amanda Wilson, 15, of the Richardson First Ward, was right in her element during this part of the day. Her mother began teaching her to sew when she was seven years old, and now you might wonder who is teaching whom. Not only did Amanda sew several outfits for the fashion show, but she designed them as well, making her own patterns.
Amanda is refining her talents now so that one day she can major in fashion merchandising and hopefully have her own designing business. But in the meantime, she uses her abilities by sewing for ward members.

A true story from Bolivia.
It was the first day of school. Andrés was so excited! He was in first grade now. He was a big kid!
But when he got to school, it looked too big and scary, even for a big kid. He held Mami’s hand tightly.
“It will all be OK.” Mami smiled. “Say hello to your teacher. Be nice to your classmates. And don’t forget to take care of your glasses.”
A week ago, Andrés got his first pair of glasses. His parents always reminded him to take care of them.
Mami waved goodbye. “Have a great day!”
But Andrés did not have a great day. Something awful happened!
He ran to Mami after school. “I lost my glasses!” he cried. “I looked everywhere, but I can’t find them!”
“Oh no!” Mami looked worried. “Let’s ask Heavenly Father for help.”
“Do you think it will work?” he asked.
“Let’s try it and see. Heavenly Father always hears our prayers,” Mami said.
Andrés and Mami said a prayer. They asked Heavenly Father to help Andrés find his glasses.
The next day at school, Andrés was still sad. Then a boy walked up to him.
“I think these are yours.” The boy held out a pair of glasses. “I found them by the football field.”
Andrés took the glasses. They were his! He couldn’t believe it.
After school, he ran to Mami and gave her a big hug.
“You found your glasses!” she said. “You must be so happy to have them.”
“I am!” Andrés said. “But I’m even happier because of what I learned.”
“And what is that?”
Andrés smiled big. “Prayer does work!”
Illustrations by Susanna Teodoro

Another futile fear that I dispelled some years later was the fear of heights. We were building our new chapel in Nottingham, England, with all the members helping. My specialty was laying floor tile and placing acoustic ceiling tile, mainly in the corridors and classrooms. There was a call for someone to fix some ceiling tiles at the very apex of the chapel ceiling. I don’t know the height, but as I started to climb the ladder, it seemed like scaling Mount Everest. On reaching the top I had to measure exactly, then descend the ladder, cut the tiles to shape and size, climb once again and fit them in place. Certainly, the best way to overcome fear of heights is to “do it,” as President Kimball has challenged.

One extremity occurs at the end of life. Many precious family experiences tell how we help each other hold on and let go at those tender times. Here is one our family holds dear.
After joining the Church, my mother became a young BYU student in Provo. She stayed with the family of Gerrit de Jong, Jr. An accomplished composer and linguist from Amsterdam, Gerrit de Jong served many years as a temple sealer. He would kindly ask those attending the temple, perhaps nervous at being there for the first time – would you like me to perform your sealing in English, Dutch, German, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Italian, or perhaps some other language?
By affection, our family called Gerrit de Jong Grandpa de Jong and his wonderful wife Thelma Grandma de Jong. I became a namesake of Gerrit de Jong. Because of him, I am the only person I know with a Dutch first name, an American middle name, and a Chinese last name.
We enjoyed many Sunday dinners with Grandpa and Grandma. No meal was complete until we had finished the homemade banana cream pie and laughed as we together washed and put the dishes away.
Grandpa’s physical body deteriorated toward the end of his rich and full life. He suffered excruciating pain. It hurt so much he wanted to die. But Grandma was not ready to let him go. Despite his great pain, Grandpa determined he would hold on for Grandma.
Finally Grandma was able to find peace. She said, “I patted his cheek, and told him I would be all right. I let him go.” Shortly thereafter, Grandpa peacefully moved on.

While at BYU we learned another lesson about wrong choices that was painful in the short-term but a blessing in the long run. Christy and I found a used Mazda car that fit our small budget and prayed about purchasing it. An unsettled feeling came that I foolishly disregarded because the car’s interior looked cool and the car had a great sound system. I rationalized that the bad feeling would depart if the high-mileage engine were replaced. After the seller agreed and put a Toyota engine in that Mazda, the dark feeling remained, but we once again pushed it aside and handed over our meager funds. This car, which we cleverly named “Toyazda,” turned out to be a pile of junk. But we learned to recognize the “Toyazda feeling” that warns of a wrong choice.

Chris sighed. “Do I have to go to school today?”
Mom looked up from tying Alicia’s shoes. “What’s the matter, Chris? You love school.”
“I used to,” Chris said. He took his little sister’s hand and started the walk to school.
“Today we’re going to make applesauce!” Alicia said as they walked down the hill. She loved her first-grade class. She reminded Chris of how he used to feel about school. Before they moved, he ran to school every morning because he was so excited to do math, work in his writing group, and do science experiments with his friends. Sometimes he played four square with Michael and Ryan at recess. Other times he stayed inside with Janet and Caleb so they could help their teacher organize the class’s books.
But now his family had moved to a new state, and even though he still got to learn about math and writing and science, it just wasn’t the same. Chris didn’t have a single friend at school. He walked into his classroom by himself, stared at his desk while his teacher talked, and sat alone at lunch. At recess he wandered around looking for shiny rocks, but he didn’t really want to keep them.
He tried to smile and be a good example for Alicia as he dropped her off at her classroom, but he just didn’t feel very excited about another lonely day.
“How did school go, Chris?” Mom asked when he got home.
“It was OK, I guess. I don’t really have any friends, though.”
“Do you remember what we talked about in family home evening yesterday?” Mom asked.
Chris tried to remember. Alicia had planned a game of musical chairs, Mom had picked out Primary songs to sing, and Chris had helped Mom make the treat. Then he remembered the lesson. “Dad told us about praying for help,” he said.
“That’s right,” Mom said. “I know you’ve been reading your scriptures about how much God loves us. Heavenly Father wants you to be happy, so if you have a problem, you can ask Him for help.”
“Do you think I could pray to Him to help me find friends?”
“Let’s try it,” Mom said.
As Chris said his prayers, he felt like Heavenly Father was right there, listening to him. The next day, as Chris walked to school with Alicia, he still felt a little lonely, so he said a prayer in his mind: “Please help me to find some friends at school today.”
School started just like every other day: he walked into his classroom by himself, stared at his desk while his teacher talked, and sat alone at lunch. But during afternoon recess Carlos from Chris’s class ran up to him. “Hi, Chris! I’m having a birthday party on Friday night.” Carlos handed Chris an orange invitation.
Chris was excited to get home and tell Mom about his new friend. He burst in the front door, but before he could say anything, Mom said, “Chris, I just got a phone call from Jared’s mom in our ward. She invited you to Jared’s birthday party at the zoo on Saturday morning.”
Chris was amazed. He told Mom all about Carlos’s birthday party. When he was finished, Mom handed him a letter. “This came in the mail,” she said.
Chris looked at the blue envelope. He never got any mail except from Grandma. He tore it open and inside was an invitation that read: “Dear Chris, you’re invited to my birthday party on Saturday night.” It was from another classmate.
Chris looked up at Mom. “Three birthday parties in one weekend?”
Mom smiled. “Heavenly Father answered your prayer.”
“That’s right,” Chris said. “I’m going to go thank Him right now.”

My brethren of the priesthood, as an introduction to my thoughts tonight, I would like to tell of a great learning experience I had a few years ago while in a taxi going from downtown Washington, D.C., to the Dulles Airport. As you may know, it is not a short ride, so I engaged in a rather lengthy conversation with the driver.
I learned an unforgettable lesson from this black man. He was a big fellow. He weighed at least 250 pounds. He said he was the father of three sons, that his oldest was fourteen. The father was a regular employee of the U.S. Postal Service, and to augment his income, he drove a taxi in the afternoon when he finished his postal shift. “But,” said he, “I’m always home every evening for dinner.”
I said, “Your wife must be an excellent cook.”
“She is,” he said. But that wasn’t the main reason he came home at that hour. He could have eaten later. “The reason I come home early is to be with my boys,” he said. “My fourteen-year-old is almost as tall as I am. In a few years I’ll no longer be able to handle him physically. When that time comes, I know he will only be obedient if he knows of my love and respect for him and also feels love and respect for me. So every evening we play ball or do homework together, or I just listen to him tell of his day. There are times,” said he, “when time with a boy is more important than money, or the things money can buy.”

The Price of Mortality
Mormon doctrine also provides a unique ?perspective on the purpose of mortality, human suffering, and what is sometimes called “the problem of evil” by theologians: How is it that an all-powerful and all-loving God can permit so much evil and suffering in the world?

Let me share a story with you about the ?powerful and attractive answer that Latter-day Saint doctrine provides to this question.

My wife, Deirdre, and I were a two-tuition family at Yale, which is to say that it was not inexpensive. She completed her MBA on the same day I finished my law degree. In fact, we missed each other’s college convocations because they were held at the same time. Then we moved to Washington, DC, where Deirdre was working for Paul Mellon and his private art collection and I was clerking for a judge on the DC Circuit Court of Appeals.

My calling in our ward was Cub Scout leader, and there were two young brothers in my Webelos group. That summer their family was in a terrible car accident. One of the brothers was in critical condition for weeks, and I visited him in the hospital, where he was wrapped nearly head to toe in bandages. This was the early 1990s, when AIDS was not well understood, and this young boy contracted the HIV virus from a blood transfusion. It took many months, but he eventually recovered from most of his injuries, yet at that time being infected with the HIV virus was akin to a death sentence.

He was asked to speak in Church about what he had learned from his experience. Although he was only twelve, he gave what I think is the most profound and insightful address on the problem of evil that I have ever heard. He said:

Some people have asked me what I did wrong to deserve what happened to me. I’m not perfect, but I’m a good boy, and I know this is not something I deserved.

Others have said, “You must be a really strong person for God to give you such a difficult trial.”

I don’t feel strong, and anyway, I don’t believe God did this as a reward for my being particularly righteous.

No, I don’t think this happened because I’m particularly bad or particularly good. I believe it happened because I’m mortal, and this is part of the price of mortality. We come to earth, we exercise our agency, and other people exercise theirs, and sometimes we hurt each other, and sometimes accidents happen.

Think about that—“the price of mortality.”

Brother Christensen: I have seen the growth of individuals, wards, stakes, and missionaries as students have followed the seminary and institute program. When President Augusto Lim of the Manila Philippines Stake was sustained as stake president, he said he was fearful for the continued existence of his stake, because of the lack of experienced leadership. In talking to him later, he said, “Now I find we have so many who have been through the seminary and institute program who know and can teach the gospel. The seminary and institute program has built leadership in our area.”

One day I sat with a handsome, young, prospective missionary as he poured out his sad story through sobs of sorrow, anguish, and remorse. I wanted to cry with him. Pressured by his so-called friends, he found himself at a mixed party where liquor was served. Against everything he knew to be right, he succumbed to the taunts and jeers of all those present, became drunk, and before the evening was over, lost his virtue.

Unable to resist the peer pressure he faced, his resolution to stay chaste being dissipated by the circumstances he found himself in, he had seen his lifelong dream of a mission and a temple marriage change to a nightmare—and now he felt ashamed, unclean, unworthy.

“Have I forfeited my opportunity for a mission, for marriage in the temple?” he asked. “How can my Father in Heaven forgive me for what I have done? I wish the earth would open up and swallow me!” My heart ached for him.

Almost overriding my sympathy for him was the anger I felt toward those who had led him down that “primrose path,” seemingly oblivious to the pain they had caused, listening to Satan’s siren song that chastity is outdated.

The full force of his actions was obvious to my tearful friend, who understood, at last, the reality of Alma’s words: “Wickedness never was happiness.” (Alma 41:10.)

I go to chess club after school. One day when chess club was over, I went to a side door to meet my mom. I expected her to be waiting outside, but she wasn’t there. I went to another door in the back, but she wasn’t there either. I began to feel lost and scared. I decided to say a prayer asking for help to find my mom. About 10 seconds later my chess teacher found me and told me that my mom was waiting at the front door. I was glad my prayer had been answered.

Heeding the prophet’s call at age 19, I prepared myself to serve a full-time mission. Soon, I received a call to the Mexico Hermosillo Mission.
While I was waiting to enter the missionary training center in Mexico City, I became concerned about how I would share the gospel. I wondered, “What should I do to prepare?”
One morning before leaving for work, I put a new copy of the Book of Mormon in my bag. Then I prayed, “Heavenly Father, help me know how to give this Book of Mormon to whomever Thou dost send to me.” Then I left for work.
After work, I went to the institute of religion. By then, I had forgotten about the book in my bag. When I got on the bus to return home, however, I sat next to a young woman who was reading the Bible.
I felt a strong impression that said, “This is the person.” I doubted the impression at first, but then I felt it again.
“Pardon me,” I said as I pulled out my Book of Mormon, “this book is very special to me, and I would like to give it to you.”
With a look of contempt, she responded, “No, thanks.” Pointing to her Bible, she added, “This book is enough for me.” Then she stood up and left, leaving me alone on my row of seats.
As I sat there for a minute feeling rejected and foolish, wondering about my impression, the woman in front of me turned around and said, “Excuse me, do you still want to give away that book?”
Apparently, she and her husband had overheard my conversation with the young woman.
“Of course!” I replied.
As we talked, l learned that the couple had wanted to read the Book of Mormon. They also wanted to learn about the Church. I was excited to answer their questions.
That day I learned for myself that “the field is white already to harvest” and that “if [we] have desires to serve God [we] are called to the work” (Doctrine and Covenants 6:3; 4:3).
God had made me an instrument in His hands after all. Today, doing missionary work is the most cherished thing in my life.

Early one evening a little over four years ago, we were having dinner when the phone rang. When I answered it, I heard, “This is President Monson’s secretary. May I speak to Sister Pinegar?” Oh, my heart! She asked if we could set up an appointment when Brother Pinegar and I could meet with President Thomas S. Monson. The days preceding the appointment were spent in the agony of anticipation, in retrospection, and in feeling totally inadequate regardless of what I was going to be called to do. When the day finally arrived, President Monson was kind and gracious. He called me to serve as the Primary general president. He instructed me in my new responsibility and calmed my soul when he reminded me that “whom God calls, God qualifies.”

In my early childhood I lost both my parents. Aunt Gu Ma, a spinster sister of my father, kept my brother and me together. She brought us up in a little farming village where she grew vegetables for a living. Every morning she would carry the produce to the market in two big baskets, one on each end of a long pole resting on her shoulders. She then would bring home rice and meat purchased with the proceeds of her vegetable sales.
I can remember cooking rice in a huge wok on top of a reed-burning stove. I was then six years old. The wok was so big that my brother and I had to lift it together, each standing on a stool while grasping a handle on opposite sides. Our occasional dinner special was either half-cooked or burnt rice, or both.
Aunt Gu Ma was a wonderful person. Although she had no formal education, she had a noble philosophy of life. She instilled in us correct principles, stern self-reliance, and the value of hard work. We are forever grateful for her love and sacrifice in our behalf.

I recall one memorable week when the family was all together after an extended period of separation. Missions, marriages, and college had scattered us across the globe for a number of years. Then Christmas of 1970, like a magnet, brought us all back home again.

During that week we spent a great deal of time talking about my health. We had all researched the possibility of a kidney transplant, and each member of the family had personally volunteered to donate one of their kidneys to me.

One afternoon while playing basketball with my brothers, I stepped back for a moment and watched them play. Each was a superb athlete. Craig had been a contender for the Olympic swimming team; he was now married and had a family. Barry had been one of the best football players in the state and was now an expert snow skier. And Kevin was one of the best high school basketball players in the state.

“Thanks anyway,” I thought as my eyes brimmed with tears. “I love you all for the desires of your hearts, but I simply don’t feel right about it.”

With Christmas over, Barry returned to Brigham Young University and Craig and his family returned to their home in California. I eagerly busied myself with missionary labors, and all returned to normal.

Then one evening a marvelous and unexpected event occurred during family prayers. My father said the prayer, and when the prayer was completed we all knew what was to transpire. With tears in our eyes we discussed our feelings. Yes, each had felt the same confirmation. We should go ahead with the transplant.

In retrospect, that decision may have been the greatest miracle of all. Logic and personal feelings just didn’t matter anymore; we knew what the Spirit had directed.

That evening I made a long-distance phone call to my brother Barry in Provo, Utah, and talked with him about the transplant. I explained to him the answer we had received and asked him to pray about it. But Barry eagerly accepted immediately saying he had prayed about it many times and was simply awaiting my call. I told him we could wait until June, but the next day he dropped his classes and came home.

After Barry arrived, however, the surgical team discovered that he had developed an immunity to Parrot’s Fever while serving his mission in Mexico, and they feared a reaction to the medications necessary after the transplant. To Barry’s deep disappointment, it was determined that his kidney was not transplantable.

About two weeks later, we had another of those extra special family home evenings. And again we felt impressed to proceed with a kidney transplant. Again I went to the phone and called a brother, this time my older brother, Craig. Again I received a positive response.

Within a week, Craig, his wife Penny, and their one-year-old son Jason flew in from California. That same afternoon I went to the hospital, and Craig was admitted the next day.

Our names were placed on the prayer rolls of six temples from London to Los Angeles by friends of the family.

The night before surgery we held family home evening in my hospital room. At one point I tried to tell the family that it didn’t seem worth the risk or sacrifice required of my brother to attempt that transplant. But Dad looked at me soberly, put a hand on my shoulder, and softly said, “We all feel that this is what the Lord wants, and your brother is proud to be able to do it. Remember, Brent, we’ll all live to see you running across the park lawn again, with that large grin of yours.”

Surgery began the next morning at 6:00 A.M. with my nurse giving me a sedative before the operation. At the end of the day I opened my eyes to see my parents close to my bed. I was back in my hospital room, and I knew everything was all right.

I remember seeing other members of the family briefly that evening. But I couldn’t find Craig. “How is Craig? Where is my brother?”

A familiar hand rested on my shoulder, and I heard my mother’s voice: “Brent, Craig is fine and your new kidney is fine, too.” With those words I went to sleep. “Thanks, Father in Heaven. Thanks, Craig. Thanks a lot, family.”

During those first few days after my transplant, I got a feeling that something was wrong when I looked at the troubled faces of my parents and brothers. All was not well with Craig. By the third day I was sure he had died and no one would tell me about it. Actually, he hadn’t died. But he was very ill and having a difficult time recovering from his part of the surgery.

On the afternoon of the third day, my father and brother carried Craig to see me. He was the color of a ripe banana. With a half smile on his face he said, “How’s it going, brother?” At that moment, seeing his pain and considering his sacrifice, I knew what love was and what having a family meant.

Two days later, the medical reports indicated that my body was rejecting the new kidney. It appeared that we had failed. Drastic medical measures were taken, but with little success. As it turned out, the most powerful aid of all was prayer. Etched deeply into my soul is the memory of many nights when family members knelt around my bed and one by one prayed to our Father in Heaven. I listened as my brothers wept, praying that I might live. Then, silently, none of us able to speak, we’d touch hands to say good-night. And they were good nights, for we each experienced the pure love of Christ.

My body’s rejection of the kidney was finally overcome; Craig, too, rapidly regained his health and strength. Today, my doctors report that I am one of the healthiest kidney recipients in history. I have a beautiful wife, two sons, and a daughter. Craig, now the father of three, lives a normal life surrounded by people who still don’t know why he made that quick trip to Seattle, Washington, several years ago.

I can testify that one of the greatest joys of mortality comes when a family is spiritually united in seeking the Lord’s aid and comfort. I am awed by the love displayed in my behalf. When I think about my family I think about the Lord, who is the true head of our gospel family. I think about his love, his devotion, and his willingness to sacrifice for us. And I feel that I have gained a special testimony and appreciation of the atonement of Jesus Christ, for I know what the love and sacrifice of an older brother can mean.

When I was 17, about ready to graduate from high school as a very average student with some handicaps, as I thought, everything around us came apart one Sunday morning. The next day we were called to the high school auditorium. On the stage was a chair with a small radio. The principal switched on the radio. We then heard the voice of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt as he announced that Pearl Harbor had been bombed. The United States was at war with Japan.
Later that scene was repeated. Again the voice of President Roosevelt, this time announcing that our country was at war with Germany. World War II had exploded across the world.
All at once our future was uncertain. We did not know what was ahead. Would we live to get married and have a family?
By the time we graduated from high school, many of our classmates had marched away to war, some of them never to return. The rest of us were soon to enter the military. We did not know about our future. Would we survive the war? Would there be enough of the world left when we returned?
Against the certainty that I would be drafted, I joined the air force. Soon I was in Santa Ana, California, for preflight training.
I did not then have a firm testimony that the gospel was true, but I knew that my seminary teachers, Abel S. Rich and John P. Lillywhite, knew it was true. I had heard them testify, and I believed them. I thought to myself, “I will lean on their testimonies until I gain one of my own.” And so it was.
I had heard about patriarchal blessings but had not received one. In each stake there is an ordained patriarch who has the spirit of prophecy and the spirit of revelation. He is authorized to give personal and private blessings to those who come recommended by their bishops. I wrote to my bishop for a recommend.
J. Roland Sandstrom was the ordained patriarch living in the Santa Ana stake. He knew nothing about me and had never seen me before, but he gave me my blessing. In it I found answers and instruction.
While patriarchal blessings are very private, I will share a short quote from mine: “You shall be guided through the whisperings of the Holy Spirit and you shall be warned of dangers. If you heed those warnings, our Heavenly Father will bless you so that you might again be united with your loved ones.”8
That word if, though small in print, loomed as big as the page. I would be blessed to return from the war if I kept the commandments and if I heeded the promptings of the Holy Ghost. Although that gift had been conferred upon me at baptism, I did not yet know what the Holy Ghost was or how the promptings work.
What I needed to know about the promptings I found in the Book of Mormon. I read that “angels speak by the power of the Holy Ghost; wherefore, they speak the words of Christ. Wherefore, … feast upon the words of Christ; for behold, the words of Christ will tell you all things what ye should do.”9
Perhaps the single greatest thing I learned from reading the Book of Mormon is that the voice of the Spirit comes as a feeling rather than a sound. You will learn, as I have learned, to “listen” for that voice that is felt rather than heard.
Nephi scolded his older brothers, saying, “Ye have seen an angel, and he spake unto you; yea, ye have heard his voice from time to time; and he hath spoken unto you in a still small voice, but ye were past feeling, that ye could not feel his words.”10
Some critics have said that these verses are in error because you hear words; you do not feel them. But if you know anything at all about spiritual communication, you know that the best word to describe what takes place is the word feeling.
The gift of the Holy Ghost, if you consent, will guide and protect you and even correct your actions. It is a spiritual voice that comes into the mind as a thought or a feeling put into your heart. The prophet Enos said, “The voice of the Lord came into my mind.”11 And the Lord told Oliver Cowdery, “Behold, I will tell you in your mind and in your heart, by the Holy Ghost, which shall come upon you.”12
It is not expected that you go through life without making mistakes, but you will not make a major mistake without first being warned by the promptings of the Spirit. This promise applies to all members of the Church.
Some will make critically serious mistakes, transgressing the laws of the gospel. Here it is time to remind you of the Atonement, repentance, and complete forgiveness to the point that you can become pure again. The Lord said, “Behold, he who has repented of his sins, the same is forgiven, and I, the Lord, remember them no more.”13
If the adversary should take you prisoner due to misconduct, I remind you that you hold the key that will unlock the prison door from the inside. You can be washed clean through the atoning sacrifice of the Savior Jesus Christ.
You may in time of trouble think that you are not worth saving because you have made mistakes, big or little, and you think you are now lost. That is never true! Only repentance can heal what hurts. But repentance can heal what hurts, no matter what it is.
If you are slipping into things that you should not slip into or if you are associating with people who are pulling you away in the wrong direction, that is the time to assert your independence, your agency. Listen to the voice of the Spirit, and you will not be led astray.
I say again that youth today are being raised in enemy territory with a declining standard of morality. But as a servant of the Lord, I promise that you will be protected and shielded from the attacks of the adversary if you will heed the promptings that come from the Holy Spirit.
Dress modestly; talk reverently; listen to uplifting music. Avoid all immorality and personally degrading practices. Take hold of your life and order yourself to be valiant. Because we depend so much on you, you will be remarkably blessed. You are never far from the sight of your loving Heavenly Father.
The strength of my testimony has changed since I felt a need to lean on the testimonies of my seminary teachers. Today I lean on others when I walk due to age and childhood polio but not from doubts regarding spiritual matters. I have come to believe, to understand, and to know the precious truths of the gospel and of the Savior Jesus Christ.
As one of His special witnesses, I testify that the outcome of this battle that began in the premortal life is not in question. Lucifer will lose.
We spoke earlier of crows. You young crows need not fly aimlessly to and fro, unsure of the path ahead. There are those who know the way. “Surely the Lord God will do nothing, but he revealeth his secret unto his servants the prophets.”14 The Lord organized His Church on the principle of keys and councils.
At the head of the Church sit 15 men sustained as prophets, seers, and revelators. Each of the First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve Apostles holds all of the priesthood keys necessary for directing the Church. The senior Apostle is prophet-President Thomas S. Monson, who is the only one authorized to exercise all of those keys.
The scriptures require that the First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve work in councils and that the decisions of those councils be unanimous. And so it is. We trust the Lord to guide the way and seek only to do His will. We know that He has placed a great deal of trust in us, individually and collectively.
You must learn to “trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.”15 You must be trustworthy and surround yourself with friends who desire to be likewise.
Sometimes you might be tempted to think as I did from time to time in my youth: “The way things are going, the world’s going to be over with. The end of the world is going to come before I get to where I should be.” Not so! You can look forward to doing it right—getting married, having a family, seeing your children and grandchildren, maybe even great-grandchildren.
If you will follow these principles, you will be watched over and protected and you yourself will know by the promptings of the Holy Ghost which way to go, for “by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.”16 I promise you that it will be so and invoke a blessing upon you, our precious youth, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Part of Cody’s goal to become an astronaut included a goal to become an Air Force Academy cadet. As he progressed through high school, he counseled with his father and mother and prayed about each step along the way. He had three great goals in life.
The first was to keep all the commandments of his Father in Heaven. The second was to serve a full-time mission. “All my life we have talked about a mission and the things pertaining to a mission. It was never ‘if you go on a mission’ but always ‘when you go.’” The third great goal was temple marriage.
“Every night before we went to sleep, mom or dad would come around to our beds and ask each of us in turn, ‘What do you want out of life? What do you want to do? What do you want to be?’ Those goal-setting sessions really helped me keep my head on straight. Every night I said those three things and sometimes others—like the astronaut plans—but always those three. We would talk about what I needed to do to achieve those goals, and then we would talk about any problems or questions I had.”
But two of Cody’s goals conflicted with each other. In order to go on a mission, he would have to resign from the academy after his first year—there was no such thing as a leave of absence for a mission. If he left, he was probably out of the program. To get back in, he would have to be renominated, and the mere fact of his resignation might work against him. What were the odds?
The preparations continued. Cody ran four or five miles each night to condition himself. As a junior, he spent one whole day taking college entrance exams, including the ACT (American College Test), SAT (Scholastic Aptitude Test), an Air Force engineering aptitude examination, and a physical fitness test. He was also interviewed and appraised for leadership potential.
The first year at the academy wasn’t spent just waiting for a mission call. “It was hard,” he remembers. “After the first four months I started asking, ‘Is this what I want to do in life?’ But then I would think back to the confirmations I had received through the Holy Ghost. I knew I was doing things, as President Kimball says, in their proper season and order, and I prayed, and the plan was reconfirmed. I knew I was right where I should be, and that really helped me.”
As the first year drew to a close, Cody had to reaffirm in his own mind his decision to go on a mission. To survive the toughest year in the academy and then give it all up took a lot of courage. And it might also mean abandoning his lifelong dream of becoming an astronaut. “But I had already made the decision to resign eight years earlier. I had no doubt what I was going to do even though I agonized over it.”
In March, during spring break, Cody had his mission interviews with his bishop and stake president. At the end of the summer, following SERE training (survival, evasion, resistance, and escape), he resigned. As with any cadet who asks to leave the academy, he was sent to interviews with several different counselors and officers.
“All of them would grill me at first,” Cody said, “but as soon as I told them my reasons for resigning, their attitude changed. They all expressed their respect for the LDS people they knew, and when I told them I was going to try to come back, which was something of a shock in itself, they said fine.” His written statement included a full explanation of what a mission is and why he wanted to serve.
The officer who had to sign the paper as a witness commented, “I’ve never read anything like that before in my life. Is that really what you believe?”
“I sure do,” Cody replied.
“A lot of them didn’t understand,” Cody explains, “but they accepted. They were feeling something they’d rarely felt before.”
In May Cody received his call to the Switzerland Zurich Mission. He entered the MTC in August. Concentrating on studies was second nature, and obedience was ingrained. “I wanted to use my time wisely because I knew I was paying a price for my mission,” he said.
At first the thought of not being readmitted hung over him, but the time finally came when he stopped worrying and left it in the hands of the Lord. Besides, missionary work presented its own challenges. “For the first six or seven months, I found myself going through the motions. I knew the Church was true and that the work was important, but I didn’t love it as I should. My academy experience came to my aid. I was used to doing difficult things. I worked hard and prayed every day that the work would become a joy instead of a burden. In the course of about a week, the whole thing turned around. Suddenly I was happier; I was working out of desire, not just duty. I knew my mission would be worth it even if I never got accepted back into the academy.”
Then a letter from home told Cody that Ted Parsons, another cadet who had resigned from the academy to serve a mission, had been readmitted! Maybe there was a chance after all!
Cody took the necessary exams at a U.S. military installation. “My mission president gave me a blessing. He told me I had served an honorable mission and that the Lord would help me accomplish what I needed to.”
Shortly after the blessing, Cody had a head-on bicycle collision, shattering his nose on the handlebar. “Qualifications at the academy are stringent. With an impact like that you would normally lose pilot qualification. If I had hit my eye or forehead or even my teeth, it would probably have disqualified me.” Cody is convinced he was protected.
When the test results arrived, they showed a score higher than the first time Cody applied for admission, which was advantageous because the competition was tougher.
“I had done everything I could. I made sure my end of things was in order. I wasn’t expecting the Lord to meet me more than halfway. Then I left it up to him,” Cody said.
Cody was renominated by his senator. His faith had paid off. Two weeks after returning from Switzerland and two years after leaving Colorado Springs, Cody Carr entered the academy once more. His dream of being an astronaut was fully intact, along with his other goals of keeping the commandments, marrying in the temple, and being a lifelong missionary.

President Heber J. Grant used to frequently use this quote: “That which we try to do, and persist in doing, becomes easy to do, not because its nature is changed, but because our power to do is developed” (Josiah Gilbert Holland [Timothy Titcomb, pseud.], Gold-Foil: Hammered from Popular Proverbs [New York: Charles Scribner, 1859], 291). President Grant exemplified this principle throughout his entire life, and his persistence no doubt played a great part in many of his accomplishments.

As a young man I was thrilled and inspired by the stories of this great Church leader—how, even though seemingly lacking in some talents, through determination and persistence he developed outstanding skill. As a boy he was a very poor penman, and his teacher criticized his writing, saying it was almost impossible to read. This was a challenge to President Grant, and he practiced writing hours upon hours until he finally became an expert penman.

I want you to know how much I love this place. Not only do I get to teach here and associate with all of you; I also got a great education here, and the best thing that ever happened to me happened on this campus. Her name is Bonnie, and she's seated right behind me on the stand. We actually attended several devotionals together when we were students. I think we even held hands. As a matter of fact, I'm sure of it because I don't remember a single thing any of the speakers said. I was just so happy to be holding a girl's hand. I was living the dream--a returned missionary, at Ricks College, holding hands with the girl that I would someday marry. Now, 24 years, seven children, and almost one grandchild later, here we are at devotional again. She's my companion, my hero, and my very best friend.

I would like to introduce you to the Vargas family. Christine and I met them on a mission tour in San Antonio, Texas, last fall. Andrea was serving as a Primary president. Luis was not a member. The missionaries scheduled an exterior tour of the temple, and the mission president shared with me that one of the factors holding Brother Vargas back was his fear of trying to be perfect.
At the start of the tour, I said, “Brother Vargas, can I first make it clear that no one in this Church is perfect save Jesus Christ? We all are just trying to do our best to become something more in Christ.”
The missionaries gave a great tour, and at the end of the evening, they said, “Brother Vargas, how are you feeling?”
Brother Vargas turned to his wife and said, “Honey, I’ve been coming with you to Church for five years. I want to join this Church so that I can become a better father and a better husband.”
Sister Vargas jumped into his arms. Their daughter wasn’t sure what was happening, but she rushed in and began hugging them as well.
Brothers and sisters, you don’t need to be perfect to be in this Church. You just need to do your best—which includes repentance—as you strive to become something more in Christ.