Gospel Story Finder

In July of 2004 I was getting ready to climb the Middle Teton. A few days prior to the climb I noticed that my left ear was hurting. I assumed that I must have an ear infection, and so I went to one of the urgent care facilities here in Rexburg, thinking they would verify it was an ear infection and give me a prescription to take care of it. A nurse told me that I had no infection and said that I had a lot of wax build-up in my ear and the pressure caused by this was probably why my ear was hurting. The nurse cleaned the ear out and immediately the pain went away. Soon afterwards, the doctor came in and affirmed that everything looked fine inside my ear. While talking with me, the doctor said, “When your eyes blink, your left eye is blinking different than your right eye. Have you noticed this?” I replied that I was unaware of this. He asked, “Have you had any numbness or anything else happening with the left side of your face?” I told him that a few months earlier I had noticed that the left side of my mouth didn’t seem to be working right. I hadn’t thought to do anything about it. The doctor thought that maybe I had Bell’s palsy, but indicated that he wanted me to have an MRI done on my head to see if anything unusual showed up. I went to our local hospital and had the MRI, and through this process we learned that I had a brain tumor. The tumor was pressing against my seventh cranial nerve, causing the issues with my eye and mouth. You can imagine that all of my family members were pretty upset and worried after finding out about this tumor. It’s interesting that I think that I was the only person in my family that wasn’t really worried. I had some insight that no one else had. I never once felt any worry about the tumor being cancerous or this being a life-altering or life-ending experience for me. I wasn’t worried, because I knew from my patriarchal blessing that there were still events and things in my blessing that hadn’t yet come to pass. I took this as a sign that I still had years of life ahead of me and that this was just another bump in the road of life. I bear witness that patriarchal blessings are a witness that God our Father lives and that He is well acquainted with you and what your needs are. Patriarchal blessings are an intimate, loving, and amazing gift from an all-knowing Heavenly Father.

After looking at my MRI, the neurologist in Idaho Falls that I visited told me that he couldn’t really do anything for me, but he said, “I know a doctor at the University of Utah that will know what to do.” Within a couple of weeks, I was in Salt Lake City visiting this specialist. During the course of our visit, the doctor was talking about the upcoming surgery and said that in the process of the surgery they would be taking the bones and other things in my left ear apart, and then would put everything back in place at the end of the surgery. He told me that after my surgery I may have some balance and equilibrium problems that might prevent me from ever climbing a mountain again. Anyone that knows me very well would understand that this would have been devastating to me, because climbing mountains had become a passion of mine. Several months later I had the tumor removed, and everything has been great since. I wanted to prove the doctor wrong about my climbing, and the following summer I was able to summit Mount Rainier and also set my personal best time in climbing the Grand Teton. If you haven’t received your patriarchal blessing, I encourage you to do so now, and treasure it as a revelation from God written just for you.

After eight years of not attending church, Paulo (all names have been changed) received a phone call from his bishop in Brazil asking how he was doing. Paulo had longed to return, but many concerns kept him from full activity. How could he avoid comparing himself, still single, to those married with children? Would he find any friends at church after so long and, if he did, what would they think of him? Would he still be able to feel the Spirit like he had during his conversion and mission or have enough faith to accept callings?
One month after the phone call, Paulo watched President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, give a conference talk called, “Come, Join with Us.”1 “That talk hit me hard,” he recalls, and within a few weeks he found himself sitting in the church parking lot, trembling and offering a silent prayer for the strength to get out of the car and enter the building.
“Everything wasn’t perfect,” he recalls of his first year after returning. It wasn’t easy to fit in. Yet a feeling of connectedness to the Savior and a strong desire for a temple recommend helped him overcome his insecurities. He began reading his scriptures and praying again. “If you don’t give up, you gain strength and can feel the Lord blessing you,” he advises those who struggle to feel accepted. “I have a testimony that this is Christ’s Church, but it’s in Him you will find true belonging.”

Another way to receive spiritual insights about our own eternal natures is from a parent or a leader who can reassure us because of his or her inspired glimpses into who we really are. The Spirit has whispered very specifically to me on occasion about the true identity of my children. I remember the night before one of our babies was born I had the distinct impression that this baby would be a great friend and helper with each of its siblings. This has proved to be absolutely true. Another time when one of our teenagers was very downcast because of involvement in an automobile accident, I distinctly heard these words in my mind: “I love this child and will guide his life.” And He has. Such glimpses have come again and again to me. When they have needed encouragement, I have been blessed with insights into the great and noble eternal spirits of my children.

As I was nearing the end of my initial enlistment contract with the US Army, I decided that I wanted to go to college. So, in the fall of 2005, I was admitted to BYU–Hawaii.

Transitioning from active duty in the military to attending college at a church-owned school was a welcoming experience for me. I was impressed by the goodness I felt from other students the same age as me. Their goodness inspired me to be good.

My roommate was my cousin, who was also a returned missionary. I saw him often on his knees in prayer, and he was very consistent in his daily studies of the Book of Mormon. We often talked about life, church, God, and girls. I could sense that he had a personal relationship with God, which I yearned for. I wanted to be like him. Even the friends he associated with were great people. They all aspired to be the best versions of themselves. I knew I was at a good place being here at BYU–Hawaii.

However, as much as I felt good about the direction my life was going, I was again reacquainted with a similar question that I had during my time in the military, "Will I always have this desire to do good and be good?"

My cousin attended the BYU–Hawaii devotional consistently. Although I found these devotional meetings boring at the time, I tagged along with my cousin because I had nothing better to do.

On January 26, 2006, I attended the devotional address by President Alan Jr. Walker. He was, at the time, the sales director for the Polynesian Cultural Center and the stake president for the Waipahu Hawaii Stake. President Walker spoke about the importance of developing a testimony in Jesus Christ to help us withstand the adversary's powers. He recounted the story of the people of King Benjamin in the Book of Mormon. They were the people that experienced a mighty change of heart after receiving a spiritual witness that the words of Christ that King Benjamin taught them were true.

President Walker then continued, "The conclusion of that verse of scripture used to bother me. Why? Because I had experienced a change of heart, I still found myself susceptible to temptation and even occasionally succumbing to it. No major sin, but sin nonetheless.
I would think to myself, What is wrong with me? How come I do not have a disposition to do good continually?"

Those two questions grabbed my attention. What was wrong with me? Unlike the people of King Benjamin, how come I do not have a disposition to do good continually?

President Walker knows the feeling. I was ready to soak in everything he had to say. President Walker then cited Brother Robinson's reflections about the people of King Benjamin and their change of heart:

"At that moment, filled with the Spirit and clearly seeing the two paths before them, the people of Benjamin lost all desire to follow the path of evil. I feel the same way when I feel the Spirit, but I do not always feel the Spirit...Therefore, we must recharge our spiritual batteries regularly".

Everything stood still at that moment. The noise around me seemed to fade as I began an internal dialogue with myself.

"That's it, Spencer! Your Spirit is like a rechargeable battery. The reason why you don't have that desire to do good continually is because you need to recharge that desire."

I knew a thing or two about rechargeable batteries from my time in the military. This analogy made so much sense.

Our desire to do good and be good has a shelf-life. If we want to do continually like the people of King Benjamin, we need to recharge our spiritual batteries. During my time in the military, going to church was when I recharged spiritually for the week. In contrast, being a student at BYUH and feeling the goodness and wholesomeness of people around me felt like I was charging my spiritual batteries on the go every day.

I walked out of that devotional message with a firm determination to do things that would help me maintain a desire to do good and be good.

This past month the Canada Toronto Mission held a mission-wide seminar. I was asked to sing a song but couldn’t find one that fit our mission program, which we call SOAR (S—sacrifice; O—obedience; A—attitude; R—rededication). I prayed about my problem, and I was directed to the August 1976 New Era, which was buried in a pile of magazines. There I found the song “Let Me Soar.” I sang this for the seminar. It was a definite answer to prayer.

The big glass jar had the words “Fill Your Life with Service” on the side. Each week the young women and their leaders from the Titusville Ward in Florida anonymously wrote down the acts of service they had given during the week. The slips of paper were then rolled, taped, and placed in the jar. The young women used yellow paper, and the leaders used green. Plus, on one Mutual night for each of the six months of the project the young women held a service activity.
The first month focused on service to family, week two on friends, and then the priesthood, neighbors, community, and the world. The slips of paper revealed all kinds of service: “I helped my brother with his homework,” “I baked my friend a cake,” “I volunteered at the animal shelter,” “I sent some mail to missionaries from our ward.”
Jessica Crook, a Beehive, said, “I think the activities helped all of us understand more about helping and serving others.” In the end there were more yellow papers than green, so the young women were rewarded with a dinner prepared and served by their leaders.

When Elder McKay’s busy calling made it necessary for him to retire, he worried because all the money had not yet been raised for a larger building. Then, on his last day of school, he was suddenly called to a meeting in Salt Lake City.
Student: Mr. McKay, we bought you these books by Charles Dickens as a farewell present.
David: This means so much to me. I’m sorry I can’t be here for the last day.
That night when he returned home to attend a reception for school board members, he was surprised to find 300 students and other friends gathered in the study hall.
Student: Surprise! We’re happy to announce that the rest of the money for a larger school building has been donated. Here are checks and letters from some of your friends.
Student: To Elder David O. McKay, a man we love, admire, and respect!

As Marcia finished making the last invitation she said “There now, this party’s going to be lots of fun. It’s always good to be with special friends.”
The first two invitations were easy for Marcia to deliver. They went to Lora and Barbara who lived just down the street. Lora lived in a big white house.
“Hi, Marcia,” she said happily, opening the door. “I’m making cookies. Come in and help me.”
“Thank you, Lora,” replied Marcia, “but I can’t today. I came to bring you an invitation to a party.”
Lora’s eyes sparkled as she read the invitation. “Who are your special friends?” she asked.
“That’s a secret,” replied Marcia. “You’ll have to come to the party and find out.” She smiled and waved good-bye to Lora, then ran down the steps on her way to Barbara’s home.
“Hello, Marcia,” Barbara’s mother said as she opened the door. “Come in. Barbara’s out in back playing with the kittens.”
Marcia went through the kitchen to the back door “Hi, Barbara,” she called. “I have something for you!” A small gray kitten brushed against Marcia’s leg and she stooped down to cuddle it while Barbara opened her invitation.
“This sounds like fun,” Barbara said. “Who are your special friends, anyway?”
“Come to my party and you’ll find out,” Marcia said with a smile. This party is beginning to be fun already, she thought.
Marcia’s mother took her in the car to deliver the rest of the invitations. First they went to see Mary, who lived on the other side of Marcia’s school.
Marcia and Mary were not in the same class at school but they were good friends.
“Hi, Mary,” Marcia said when her friend opened the front door. “Will you come to a party at my house?”
“I’d love to,” Mary answered, her eyes shining in anticipation.
Mary’s mother came into the room and thanked Marcia and her mother for bringing the invitation. “Who are your special friends, Marcia?” she asked.
“That’s a secret,” Marcia answered with a smile. “Mary will find out at the party.”
Marcia’s cousin Susan lived on the other side of town. Susan was younger than Marcia but the girls always had fun when their families got together. Susan was delighted with her invitation. “Will all of your special friends be there?” she asked.
“Most of them,” answered Marcia.
The last invitation was for Connie. Connie didn’t go to the same school as Marcia, but they usually saw each other at Sunday School and sacrament meetings.
“A special friends party,” Connie repeated after she read her invitation. “This sounds like fun, Marcia. I can’t wait till Saturday.”
“You’ll have to, though,” laughed Marcia. “I’ll see you then.”
As Marcia and her mother drove back home, Marcia said excitedly, “I don’t know if I can wait until Saturday, either.”
Mary was the first one to ring the doorbell on Saturday afternoon for the party. Soon the other girls arrived and after she introduced them to each other, Marcia said, “I’m so glad you’re all here. At our last family home evening Dad explained that every friend is special in some way, so I decided to have a special friends party. I just wanted to say thanks to all of you for being my friends.”

When I returned home to the Philippines after my mission, the first thing I wanted to do was meet a worthy priesthood holder whom I could marry in the temple and build a Christ-centered family with.
I thought that finding him would be easy. But now it’s been quite a few years since I returned home, and I have yet to find someone to marry.
I’ve been goal-driven all my life. In high school, I made goals for my future, specifically goals that would help me progress on the covenant path—the only path that will ultimately lead me, and all of us, back to live with Heavenly Father.
I made goals to graduate from seminary and institute, to finish my studies, to get endowed in the temple, to serve a mission, to find a job in line with my degree, and to build an eternal family.
I’ve achieved all those goals apart from one, and despite being proud of all I’ve accomplished, I’ve sometimes felt as though I’ve stopped progressing.
For years I’ve spent so much time searching and praying to find someone to be with for eternity. I’ve always obeyed the commandments, applied the teachings of the prophets and the leaders in my life, and striven to be worthy to enter the temple. So, in frustration, I’ve sometimes wondered why, after trying so hard, I am still unable to reach this one goal and often feel unable to move forward on the covenant path.
What am I lacking?
One night when I was feeling extra discouraged about my marital status and seeming lack of progression, I poured out my feelings to Heavenly Father. I felt stuck, lonely, and lost. As I prayed and pondered, a clear reminder came to me:
“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart. …
“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths” (Proverbs 3:5–6).
In that moment, I realized that those “paths” included the covenant path.
I was reminded that if I “let God prevail” in my life, as President Russell M. Nelson taught,1 He would direct me toward Christ and grant me spiritual strength, promised blessings, and eternal progression.
Elder Marvin J. Ashton (1915–94) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught: “Set your goals. … But don’t become frustrated because there are no obvious victories. Remind yourself that striving can be more important than arriving.”2
For so long I had focused only on my hopes for marriage and my “failure” at not achieving that covenant. I had forgotten the significance of the covenants I had made and how those covenants had helped me move toward Christ.
I had forgotten how beautiful my circumstances were. Right now, because I don’t have children or many obligations at home, I have time to develop more skills for the future. I’m able to give a great amount of my time to serving others and ministering to those in my ward. I am able to meet more people and learn from them. I get to spend time improving my relationships with my parents and siblings. And most importantly, I still have plenty of opportunities to continue becoming more like the Savior.
I’ve realized that if I’m still walking on the path that leads me to Jesus Christ, then I’m right where I need to be.
I am moving forward on the covenant path.

Last year I had a similar experience. A young man I met in a high school musical always had something negative to say about the Church. I would argue and Bible bash with him, but I soon found that this was the wrong way to handle it. Instead I started telling him what we believed and stopped telling him he was wrong. He gave me the bit about our not being Christians, too. I just told him that we do worship Christ and explained the real name of the Church to him. People will respect you more and listen to you if you are open about your beliefs. Try it; it really works. That young man is one of my very best friends now. Good luck!
Amy Coleman, 16Newcastle, California

At first I was frustrated with my siblings when they wouldn’t respond to my invitations. I became angry with them, and they started avoiding all talk on the subject of church. My dad helped me realize that isn’t what the Church is about. He reminded me, “People don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care.” I learned over time that I needed to love them as they are. I found little ways to serve them and show them I genuinely love them. Even though this did not win immediate results, they began to be more open to talk about the Church and were more receptive to my invitations when I showed them love.
Name withheld, Taiwan

After dinner, I thought about Sister Higgins’s lesson. I couldn’t figure out if I really had faith or not. Last Christmas I’d prayed for a bike, but I didn’t get it. Maybe I just hadn’t exercised enough faith. So I decided I’d try again. I wasn’t doing very well in math, and I wondered if faith would help me get better grades. I decided to pray for a score of one hundred on my math quiz the next day.

Then I went outside and rolled in the grass with Stubbs. He was the craziest dog I had ever known. He’d had us all in stitches last family night when he kept hiding behind Dad’s chair and popping out to bark every time someone got up to do his part.

The next day at school, when I received a score of only seventy-two on my math quiz, I knew that I must not have enough faith. I decided that faith must be something only grown-ups have.

Third, I wish I had known that beyond loving us, the Lord loves me, and that He is involved in the very details of my life, just as He is interested in and involved with your life and the life of each of His children.

Let me tell you about a former BYU–Idaho student. I have lost track of this young woman and could not contact her to ask permission to share her story, but I do not think she will mind my doing so. For today’s purposes I will call her Molly, although that is not her real name. I read from my personal writings—first, from a letter written to my son on October 20, 2002, and then from a second letter written two months later on December 15:

It was my privilege this past week to randomly contact students and offer them tickets to the dedication of the Gordon B. Hinckley Building. And not just any tickets, but GOOD tickets—like Chapel Center Section, Row 1 or Chapel Center Section, Row 2. Do you know how close these students will be to the Prophet?
What I came to realize as I visited with these students is that there was inspiration in how they were identified and then selected to receive a ticket. Certainly, the Lord is mindful of the tiniest sparrow. And He is mindful of the average, low-key, back-row student at BYU–Idaho who would never have expected or thought himself or herself important enough to be invited to a special gathering with the Prophet. I have been touched by their surprise at being selected. Most of all, I have been touched by their humility and gratitude for the opportunity.

And from the second letter written in December:

Molly was one of the students who received a ticket to the dedication of the Hinckley Building. She called this week and asked if she could come by the office to see me, which she did Thursday afternoon. I immediately sensed that she wasn’t comfortable visiting with me in the outer office, so I suggested we go into the conference room. I closed the door, we sat down, and then she began her story.

Molly said she had been dating a young man from her hometown who is not a member of the Church. Just prior to the dedication, he had asked her to marry him and she had accepted his proposal. She said she had not planned to go to the dedication as she had hardened her heart to counsel because she was tired of being told her decision was wrong. She wasn’t anxious or willing to go where she might have to once again sort through her feelings and justify to herself or others what she was planning to do. And then, out of the blue, she gets a call from me inviting her to have a front-row seat at a meeting where President Hinckley and President Monson are the featured speakers. She said she reluctantly came to the office, picked up her ticket, and almost begrudgingly went to the dedication.

Molly got all teary eyed and said to me, ‘Being there changed my life. Something President Hinckley said, something I felt that day softened my heart. I could see that I had been praying for the wrong things. I could see that I was placing myself and my posterity for generations to come in jeopardy of receiving eternal blessings. It has not been easy and it did not happen overnight, but I have broken off my engagement. Your offering me that ticket was the answer to my parents’ prayers. Thank you.’

All I could do was sit there and cry right along with Molly. I tried to help her understand that any thanks she had to express should be directed to Someone other than me. I was merely the vehicle through which invitations were extended. Truly, in each and every case, I felt prompted and guided as I decided which students to contact.

I continue to read from the second letter:

And now, as Paul Harvey would say, the rest of the story: Molly is not a full-time student this semester. She stayed in Rexburg during her off-track time to work and pick up a few night classes. She should not have been on any list that was submitted to our office for the dedication. But her name was there, it caught my attention, and her life has been forever blessed. You can’t tell me that the Lord was not mindful of Molly and her precarious situation; of her parents’ prayers and concern; of her heart, which He knew could be touched.

Sometimes making a difference is as easy as saying one sentence. A couple of years ago, before the beginning of the girls’ basketball season, Sue said, “Let’s say a prayer.” They followed her suggestion before that first game, and it became a habit. “I always said the prayer before every game. Sometimes I would say, ‘Doesn’t someone else want to offer the prayer today?’ And a couple of times someone else would. But most of the time, the team would all be standing around waiting for me, calling, ‘Sue, come and say the prayer.’”

In my high school media class, we heard about a video contest where a popular music group would come and perform at the winning high school’s prom. Some other students and I made a video and entered it on behalf of a neighboring high school that was recently destroyed by a tornado. Even though the other school is our rival in sports, we wanted to help give something special to those students who had lost so much.
Our video won the national contest. It felt amazing to help this school. It made me feel good to know that my classmates and I could make a difference in others’ lives.
Luke G., Indiana, USA

“Look at how squished together the houses are!” Richard’s younger brother, Michael, said, pointing to a row of matching doors. “Are there any kids my age around here?” he asked.
“I’m sure there are,” Mom said, pulling another box from the car.
“Yeah,” said Richard. “Look at all the toys and bikes in the yards.”
Erika stroked Jewel and tickled her tummy as she carried the purring cat to the front door. “I think Jewel likes it here!” she said.
Richard knew why his family was moving here. It was close to the hospital where Erika was getting treatments.
Even though Erika was older than Richard, she looked smaller and skinnier because of her cancer treatments. The treatments also made her hair fall out. That’s why she always wore a bright yellow hat.
“Almost as sunny as her smile,” Mom sometimes said.
Suddenly Michael yelled from the hill up the street. “A playground! We have a playground!”
“A playground?” Erika started walking up the street, her smile even bigger. “Let’s go see it!”
As they got closer, Richard saw a big sign on the fence: “UNSAFE—DO NOT PLAY.” The swing set was broken, and a few rusty pipes were lying around.
“That’s sad!” Richard said. “I bet there are lots of kids around here who would love a place to play.”
“We could fix it!” Erika said. She sounded excited, like she could already see the way it would look.
“Could we, Mom?” Richard asked.
Mom shrugged. “I don’t know, kids. That would be really difficult.”
Erika looked at the playground. Her smile had faded, but her hat still looked bright and sunny.
Richard turned back to Mom. “Can we try?”
Mom finally gave in. But it would take lots of work.
After they got settled in their new house, Richard and Michael started looking for neighborhood kids to help. Mom called businesses to ask for donations. Before long kids were cleaning up trash and planting flowers. They painted benches with castles, spaceships, and dragons—Erika’s favorite. The whole neighborhood was helping make Erika’s dream come true!
As months went by, Erika got sicker and sicker. But even when she couldn’t help fix things up anymore, she and Jewel came out to cheer the helpers on.
“Remember, we want plenty of ramps for wheelchairs,” she said. “This will be a playground everyone can play on!”
On the day the playground was finally opened, Erika wasn’t there. She had already returned to Heavenly Father. But Richard, Michael, and Mom were there?—along with tons of other kids. There were kids in wheelchairs, kids on crutches, and even kids from other neighborhoods!
A new playground sign said “Erika’s Dream Park.”
Richard sat on a bench covered with paintings of dragons and watched everyone run and jump and swing. He knew Erika was in heaven and that she wasn’t sick anymore. But it was still hard watching all those kids play without her there.
The sun was bright and yellow like Erika’s hat. Richard could feel it warm him from head to toe. He thought maybe he was feeling warm for another reason too. Like maybe the Holy Ghost was telling him that things would be OK. He knew he would see Erika again. And when she was resurrected, her body would be healthy and strong. A smile spread across Richard’s face.
“Come on, Richard!” Michael shouted from the top of the slide.
Richard jumped off the bench and ran into the sunshine to play.

How would you like to live in a schoolhouse? Minna and her family live in the countryside of southern Sweden. Their home used to be a schoolhouse many years ago. She says the best part is that the house has a room big enough for lots of people. In December, Minna’s family invites neighbors, friends, and family over for a special “sing-in.” About 80 people come to sing Christmas carols together. Then they enjoy treats before everyone goes back out into the cold Scandinavian winter weather.

Some years ago, I prayed for the words to defend motherhood when I received an anonymous phone call.
The caller asked, “Are you Neill Marriott, the mother of a big family?”
I answered happily, “Yes!” expecting to hear her say something like, “Well, that’s good!”
But no! I’ll never forget her reply as her voice crackled over the phone: “I am highly offended that you would bring children onto this overcrowded planet!”
“Oh,” I sputtered, “I see how you feel.”
She snapped, “No—you don’t!”
I then whimpered, “Well, maybe I don’t.”
She started on a rant about my foolish choice to be a mother. As she went on, I began to pray for help, and a gentle thought came to mind: “What would the Lord say to her?” I then felt I was standing on solid ground and gained courage at the thought of Jesus Christ.
I replied, “I am glad to be a mother, and I promise you I will do everything in my power to nurture my children in such a way that they will make the world a better place.”
She replied, “Well, I hope you do!” and hung up.
It wasn’t a big thing—after all, I was standing safely in my own kitchen! But in my own small way, I was able to speak in defense of family, mothers, and nurturers because of two things: (1) I understood and believed God’s doctrine of the family, and (2) I prayed for words to convey these truths.

“Like you I was going out with a boy, and we were quite serious. We also talked about marriage and made plans. The only difference was that all our plans included his mission. At times it was hard thinking of waiting for him. He wanted me to keep going on with my life but never to forget him. He always told me that Heavenly Father would help us if we went to him in prayer. Sometimes I would try to encourage him; sometimes it was hard to keep from asking him not to go. The thing that helped me realize the importance for boys to serve missions was remembering that I’m a convert, and I owe much of my joy to the two elders who taught me.
“My boyfriend is now serving his mission in California and has been gone seven months. We have both had a chance to grow, and the time has gone fast.
“I would encourage any girl who has a boyfriend to encourage him to serve a mission. He might be the only one who can reach someone special and help him to return to his Father in heaven.”
Karlene FountainLas Vegas, Nevada

After my wife joined me in Utah, we went to California to visit her family, and it was there that I received an unexpected call from Elder Ian S. Ardern, Pacific Area President. He asked when I was returning to Fiji then said he urgently needed to meet with me. I told him I was returning to Utah the following week, so President Ardern said he would contact me then.
I did not sleep well after that call. My mind was troubled. My whole attitude for the remaining days of my holiday changed.
It was Elder Carl B. Cook of the Presidency of the Seventy who contacted me next, and my wife and I drove to Church headquarters to meet with him. What a humbling experience it was to be called to serve as an Area Seventy. While I had never turned down a calling in my 42 years of Church membership, this was different. I was overwhelmed with feelings of inadequacy; I felt unprepared. I wept openly in the presence of my wife and Elder Cook. Was this really happening?
All my life I had looked up to the General Authorities and the General Officers of the Church—they were elected by God and were revered throughout the Church. All my callings up till then had been local. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined holding an Area ecclesiastical calling.
I struggled to accept what was asked of me, but doubt in my ability to fulfil this calling began to subside and instead, I was overcome by gratitude for my Savior, for His love and tender mercies. I felt a righteous determination to serve the Lord in this capacity. This was an opportunity for me to demonstrate my love for Him and for His Church. The scripture that came to my mind with great force was Doctrine and Covenants 82:3, “For of him unto whom much is given much is required.”
I was sustained during the April 2020 general conference, which was the first ever virtual conference held by the Church. My training as a new Area Seventy was also held virtually as the COVID-19 pandemic was at its peak. My first year in the calling was truly miraculous; the support I received from the Pacific Area Presidency, my fellow Area Seventies, and visiting General Authorities was amazing. Traveling to stake conferences and attending general conferences in person were highlights of this time, filled with wonderful learning and growing experiences.
However, deep inside, I still struggled, especially in my moments of personal reflection. I still felt insecure and inadequate in my service as an Area Seventy.
It was not until the last session of the General Authority, Area Seventy and General Officers Leadership Training, during the April 2021 general conference, that I finally received the spiritual witness I had been seeking since my call. I will never forget that moment.
This session’s agenda was for all 15 apostles and prophets to bear their testimonies and witness of Jesus Christ. The solemnity and sacredness of this occasion is glorious. It was Elder Neil L. Andersen’s testimony that changed my perspective and gave me the reassurance that I was searching for.
Elder Andersen explained how he felt when he was called to The Quorum of The Twelve Apostles. He said when he first sat in the seat that Elder Ulisses Soares now occupies, he looked up the row at the other 11 Apostles and the First Presidency, and feelings of personal inadequacy overwhelmed him. When I heard Elder Andersen say that, I sat up straight in my chair because I knew that what he had just said—and what he was going to say next—was specifically for me.
Elder Andersen said he struggled with this issue for a while and then it came: He heard the voice of the Lord say, “Neil, you did not put yourself there. I did, because I love you, and I know you can change, and I know you can help with my work.”
When Elder Andersen shared that sacred experience, it became sacred to me also. It was the confirmation that I needed.
I know that Heavenly Father and His Son did not call me because of anything I had done to qualify for this role, but it was because They love me. They know I can change, and They know I can help Them in Their glorious work: to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of all Their children. (See Moses 1:39.)