Gospel Story Finder

On a quiet morning last week I left my office in Sao Paulo, Brazil, and walked over to the Sao Paulo Temple site. There was a soft morning mist beginning to clear away. As I walked up the gentle rise in the street onto the site, I noted with great interest and pleasure brush being cleared away and the new pegs recently driven into the ground. These pegs in the ground mark the dimensions of a new temple soon to be erected for the glory of God and the endless blessing of his children in South America. This temple will be different from any other building now standing in South America.
As I stood where the entrance of the temple will be, I recalled how thirty-six years ago my companions and I landed by ship in Santos after twenty-one days at sea and went by train to Sao Paulo. There were other missionaries on the same vessel going to Argentina and Uruguay, which were the two other relatively new missions on the continent.
In all of South America there was but a mere handful of members of the Church, mostly emigrants from Europe, many of whom were converted in Europe. As I stood last week on this site where this new, special, multimillion-dollar building will stand, I recalled how difficult and unpromising the future of the Church appeared in South America thirty-six years ago. In all of our mission we had only three baptisms in one year, despite the conscientious labors of over seventy missionaries. We did not have the Doctrine and Covenants, the Pearl of Great Price, or the Book of Mormon translated into Portuguese. We held our meetings in rooms that were small and unfit for the lofty message we were trying to teach. We often had to sweep out these rooms before meeting to remove the empty bottles and trash from the revelry of the night before. It was always difficult and often discouraging.
In comparison, last year in South America there were over 8,000 convert baptisms. There are now twenty-two stakes and seventeen missions of the Church with over 152,000 members on that vast continent; and the work has only begun. Our great first generation of South American Regional Representatives and stake and mission presidents are men of affairs, including bankers, businessmen, factory owners, and professional men. They are men of great ability and faith.
I marveled at how through the Spirit of God this has all come about. Surely it is a fulfillment of what Jesus said to his early apostles: “And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven.” (Matt. 16:19.) Having seen it all from close range, I cannot doubt that this is the work of God.
Last week at the temple site, after much brooding and pondering, I stepped farther back to where the inner rooms of the temple will be. The morning mist had now cleared so that in the distance I could see part of the great city of Sao Paulo. I recalled how as a young missionary I presided over the work in that city, with thirteen missionaries and about 300 members. There are now four stakes of the Church and about 100 missionaries laboring in that city. There are also neighboring stakes in Campinas and Santos.
This great progress in South America has come about largely through the sacrifice and dedication of hundreds of missionaries and their families, as well as dedicated mission presidents from the United States and Canada. This is changing. In the Brazil Porto Alegre Mission there are now 136 missionaries of which fifty-eight, or 43 percent, are native-born Brazilians. All of the four mission presidents in Argentina are native South Americans. How can anyone who has seen what I have deny that this is the work of God.

Later, when I was offered work at a television station, I worried about temptations associated with the entertainment industry. But the answer to my prayers was, “Accept the job and show you can be an artist without compromising your standards.”
I have worked as a television artistic production assistant, as an assistant choral director for the Symphonic Choir of Guayaquil, and on the board of the Ecuadoran House of Culture for the province of Guayas.
I testify that it is possible to fulfill our dreams without sacrificing our principles. Today my name is recognized in my country and in my profession—thanks to my commitment to live the gospel and develop the gifts Heavenly Father has given me.

A good friend of mine recently died in a tragic car accident. I have found comfort through coming unto Christ. I had to gain a testimony of Christ’s love for each one of us; I had to understand who we are as children of God; and most importantly I had to understand God’s plan and will for His children. As I turned to Him through scriptures, church, and Church materials, I was able to gain that testimony and feel peace and comfort. Especially helpful was the youth lesson titled “How can I find comfort when someone I care about dies?” All of the scriptures, articles, and videos referenced in this lesson are amazing and have changed my life.
Madilin N., 18, Iowa, USA

Darrell graduated in 1997 and attended Brigham Young University in Utah, USA to complete his master’s degree. From there, he moved to New York City to study at the Manhattan School of Music, for his third degree in the subject he had once failed while still a struggling schoolboy.

Whilst in New York he met and married Jennifer Welch, a renowned opera singer in her own right. In 2005 Darrell, Jenny and their two little sons moved back to Utah where they were both asked to teach at BYU. Darrell was eventually offered a full-time position, and Jenny decided to be a full-time mother.

As a professor of music for 14 years, Darrell was hugely successful, with his students winning major international opera competitions. One of his students, Rachel Willis-Sørensen, was invited to sing at Prince Charles’ 70th birthday party at Buckingham Palace, who has since gone on to be a highly successful recording artist.

In 2019, Darrell was approached by the world-renowned Juilliard School and offered a full-time faculty position. Darrell, Jenny and now five children moved back to New York.

In 2021 it was announced that Darrell would be chair of the music faculty at the Juilliard School. It can be no surprise to learn that his students have also won many competitions and have appeared on The Voice and America’s Got Talent. One student has also been nominated for a Grammy award.

Zing! The rope barrier springs away and Neal spurs his quarter horse into the arena in pursuit of a scrambling steer, overtaking it as his father hazes the frightened animal closer to him. Moving at a hard gallop, Neal slides far sideways in the saddle and takes hold of the steer, right arm hooking one horn, left hand grasping the other. For a moment his body forms a perilous bridge between the horse and steer. Then his hand-tooled cowboy boots jerk free from the stirrups and tread clouds for an instant before hitting the hoof— soft ened dirt in a jolting cloud of dust, plowing a double furrow as he brakes against his own momentum and 600 pounds of charging steer. The muscles of his broad shoulders bunch under his western shirt as he turns his momentum, strength, and more than 180 pounds of solid bone and muscle into irresistible torque, levering the wide horns clockwise. The steer resists, teeters, and then crashes helplessly onto its side.

The judge’s flag drops. Time—6.2 seconds. Neal grins up at his father through the dust and applause, then scans the stands for his mother. Ignoring the burning weal that the horns have left on his ribs, he releases the animal, stands up, and stoops to dust off his western-cut jeans.

Neal Gines, 17, from Kamas, Utah, and his father have just won another first place in bulldogging.

Now, in closing, I want to share with you a personal experience I had with my grandfather, Harold B. Lee, an Idaho boy like some of you and a past president of the Church, wherein he taught me about developing and giving our gifts. When I was a senior in college, I took my patriarchal blessing to Grandfather. My request to him was that he read my blessing with me, and counsel me as to how I might recognize, develop, and give my gifts, using the patriarch's inspiration as context. Grandfather read my blessing and then said: "Well, Alan, that's a fine blessing." He paused, and continued: "My impression is that you worry too much about the future, Alan." This was not what I had come to hear. Though I would not have admitted it at the time, in my heart of hearts I hoped he would look into the crystal ball and tell me about a career. In fact, I would have been even more delighted if he had told me my future wife's name, and how to find her.

Grandfather went on to recount briefly, his own personal history. He said, "You know as a boy growing up in Clifton, Idaho, we prayed for the 'pillars of the Church.' We meant the Brethren, the General Authorities. I could no more have thought of becoming one of them than fly to the moon, which in those days also seemed an impossibility." He came home from a mission and thought he would be a farmer, but things weren't going well there so he decided to attend a university. At the University of Utah he met a young woman who was willing to walk home with him the five miles after a date, because he didn't have the five cents to pay the trolley. Friendship ripened into love, and they were married. Upon graduation, Grandfather found a job as a high school principal. After a few years, his wife suggested maybe he could be doing something else and he got into distributing books throughout the Western United States. Then, one of the city commissioners died in the middle of his term, and Grandfather, because of contacts he had made as a book distributor, was asked to fill the rest of that man's term. He was then elected to a term of his own.

During this same time, Grandfather had been called as a Stake President. Then the 1930 depression hit. He and other leaders in his stake dusted off the revelations, and tried to find a way to help the almost 70% of their stake members who were out of work. They established a Bishop's Storehouse and found ways to have those who were out of work harvest wheat that was going unharvested because the price for wheat was so low it didn't pay to harvest it. Then the Brethren called him to set up a welfare program for the entire church. Several years later he was called as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, and at the time we were talking he was in the First Presidency. His question to me was: "Alan, do you think I could have taken thought, and prepared myself to be where I am now? The only counsel that I have ever felt comfortable giving to young people is that they get up each day and regain their testimony. And then in the light of the inspiration of the Lord, 'in the moment thereof,' that they do what the Lord asks of them. Don't live too far into the future," was his counsel. "Live for today. You don't have tomorrow; all you have is today. You don't have yesterday. All you can do is repent or feel good, depending on your yesterdays. So make your yesterdays days to feel good about by living fully for today."

Around this time, my grandma lent me my great-great grandmother Thea’s handwritten autobiography. Within days I felt deeply connected with Thea Martina Waagen (1883–1967). Thea’s father tragically died just a few months before her birth, so she was raised by her widowed Norwegian immigrant mother. Growing up was difficult, but she found joy in picking wild strawberries and playing the organ at her local Lutheran church. Thea’s mother remarried, and with her stepfather’s help, she attended college. Later in life, Thea and her family converted to the Church and moved to Utah, USA. Things weren’t easy for Thea. She and her husband divorced. She experienced great heartache and severe depression, yet she remained true to her testimony.
As I learned about Thea and her choice to persevere through adversity, I was overwhelmed with an intense love that reassured me of my worth and helped me overcome my paralyzing guilt. I realized that if she could do hard things, I could too.
I went on LDS.org and requested Thea’s patriarchal blessing. I was further touched when I read, “The seed of thy womb shall rise up and call thee blessed among the women in Zion.” I realized that my profound respect for her was a fulfilment of that simple sentence. Thea’s love helped heal my heart of guilt and turn my heart to my ancestors. This was my first witness of Elder David A. Bednar’s promise that by participating in family history work, I would “be protected against the intensifying influences of the adversary” (“The Hearts of the Children Shall Turn,” Liahona, Nov. 2011, 27).
I feel an added measure of strength and clarity in my life as I continue to search out my family and learn their stories. By consistently participating in family history activities, I feel like I gained an entire army of allies who help me fight my spiritual battles. I can live without fear because “they that be with us [our ancestors] are more than they that be with them [Satan’s followers]” (2 Kings 6:16).
Although I haven’t found thousands of family names to take to the temple, I have learned my ancestors’ stories and sought out their families through careful research. I have taken the time to remember their lives and respect their legacies. I know that I have been strengthened and protected against Satan as I’ve filled my life with the light of my family.

Elder Samuel Barlow from the Shetland Islands, Aberdeen Stake, has been a deckhand on a deep-sea fishing trawler for the past two years. He decided to leave his boat and fishing career to serve the Lord as a full-time service missionary.
Serving the Lord on a mission has been a lifelong desire of Elder Barlow. That the opportunity to serve from home has been made available to young men and women outside of the US and Canada, filled Elder Barlow with great joy and happiness. He arranged to meet with his stake president to discuss applying.
President Lee McLeman of the Aberdeen Stake felt that Elder Barlow would make a wonderful service missionary and helped him to complete and submit his mission papers. Elder Barlow said, “It filled me with great happiness that Heavenly Father listens to our prayers and makes it so everyone can serve as a missionary.”
Elder Barlow also serves as the elders quorum president in the Lerwick Branch. His mission allows him to continue serving in this calling while also reaching out to help many others in the Shetlands. His setting apart required him and his family to travel to the Aberdeen chapel, a 29-hour round trip by ferry in some rough weather. He had already done that to be set apart as the elders quorum president, such is his dedication to serving the Lord.
He started his mission by serving in the British Red Cross charity shop in Lerwick, by doing Family History indexing with his father and working on the BillionGraves project (see billiongraves.com). He is looking forward to the warmer weather when he will be able help with the Scottish Wildlife Trust and the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds. He has also been asked to be the mission expert on BillionGraves and train new missionaries.
He is an excellent example to his family and to those around him. The district leader was pleased when he found out that Elder Barlow was a fisherman and exclaimed, “Jesus worked with fisherman, and now we can work with a fisherman, just like Jesus.”
Elder Barlow takes the opportunity whenever he can to tell other young single adults and youth about service missions—there are now two opportunities to serve, either as a teaching missionary or as a service missionary; the prophet extends the call for both types of missions.

Today I received the December New Era, and it was a blessing and inspiration in my life. The article “The Christmas Present” was especially close to my heart because four years ago I too spent Christmas day in a hospital bed. I had sustained a badly broken back and serious internal injuries as the result of a car accident. As I read this article, I was reading about myself because the emotions expressed were the same ones I was feeling then—loneliness and depression. But thanks to a beautiful family and a lot of wonderful people in the Anaheim California Stake, it was a beautiful Christmas. My back was completely healed, and my heart is full tonight as I thank you for sharing this article. I especially want to thank Brother Dearden for “forcing” me to relive that Christmas four years ago and remember again how greatly I am blessed.
Shelley SheltonEl Paso, Texas

“Come on, Fynn. It’s time to go!” Johan said.
Fynn’s brother, Johan, was waiting impatiently at the front door. He didn’t want to be late for school.
Fynn frowned. He didn’t want to go to school. His family had just moved to a new house. It was his first year at school, and he hadn’t made any friends at school yet. He missed his old friends.
“I’m scared!” Fynn said, running to his mother. “Why do I have to go to school?”
Fynn’s mother gave him a hug. “It’s going to be OK. Let’s say a prayer,” she said. “There’s always time to pray.”
They knelt down and asked Heavenly Father to help Fynn. Then Fynn and his brother went to school. The day went a little better.
Every morning after that, Fynn knelt down and said a prayer asking Heavenly Father for help.
Slowly, things got better. Fynn made a friend, and he wasn’t scared anymore. After a while, Fynn started liking school.
One day Fynn and his brother were walking to school, and Fynn felt happy. He noticed the sun shining. He thought about all the fun things he was learning. Suddenly, he stopped walking.
“I forgot something!” he said to Johan. Fynn ran back to their house.
His mother looked worried when he ran inside.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I forgot to pray!” Fynn said. He knelt down. He wanted to thank Heavenly Father for helping him.
After ending his prayer, he gave his mom a hug. “There’s always time to pray!” he said.
Fynn smiled. His mom smiled. And as Fynn ran to catch up with his brother, he thought maybe Heavenly Father was smiling too.

And then there is the description of Heber C. Kimball, the grandfather of our present leader. His biographer, Orson F. Whitney, says of him that “prayers are rarely heard as were heard to issue from the heart and lips of this man.” I was curious why. What did he do differently? Well, I found out. There was first of all a sense of dedication in his home. The home is the second most sacred place in the Church—the first being the temple. (President Lee recently instructed that if you’re not going to be married in the temple, the next best place is home.) They understood that. They dedicated their homes; they dedicated, at times, a room—he did—a special room for prayer. He knew what it was to kneel in silence for a time, to ruminate, to meditate, to recover something of the light in the scriptures and in himself. And then to pray.
He constantly taught his family, and by example demonstrated, that the way to pray is to let out what is really in. For example, he says in a discourse, “When I am angry, the first thing I do is pray. And I am never so angry but what I can’t.” Well, I was taught the exact opposite. If you’re angry you straighten things out, you count to ten, soak your head in a bucket, and when things are all even and you’re composed, then you pray. No. The first thing he did was pray. What, you might ask me, would he say? I don’t know. I can only imagine. But he let it out honestly, openly, in the words that were appropriate. “I’m so angry,” he might have said, “I could spit.” If that’s the way it was, then that’s the way to say it. And there came a return wave, for the Lord honors you when you level, when you stop praying from the neck up and begin praying from way inside, trusting the Spirit to take even the ineptitudes and translate them perfectly, trusting the Lord to know and daring even to voice those particular feelings about which you are most anxious and even guilty, including the prayer which he occasionally offered: “Father in heaven, I just don’t feel like praying.” That’s an honest and powerful prayer. I recommend it.

This opportunity finally presented itself. We did not have a native speaker in our English class one year. I asked my classmates if it was a good idea to invite the missionaries. Then I asked the missionaries if they were allowed to come to schools. And finally I asked my English professor if they could come. I passed out a list on which everyone wrote what she would like the missionaries to talk about. I was amazed to see that the majority wanted to know why they had decided to go on missions, what kind of work they were doing, and how our Church differed from other churches.
Elder Allen and Elder Jones came to class and took most of the class period talking about the Church. It was awesome! After they left, I was bombarded with even more questions.
That year I was no longer the only member of the Church in my school. Because of two of my Latter-day Saint friends who began attending the school, the song “A Child’s Prayer” (Children’s Songbook, 12–13) is now part of the music teacher’s repertoire.
It was not as difficult as I expected to talk about the gospel of Jesus Christ. I am so grateful to Heavenly Father for His Son, Jesus Christ, and for His wonderful gospel. I am also grateful for every opportunity to share my testimony by the Holy Spirit.

Sister Rinne received her first missionary assignments after she moved to Jyväskylä, where she served twice as a district missionary. “In those days there were so many baptisms in Jyväskylä you could hear the roar of the water,” she recalls. “The Lord just sent us the people who were ready to hear the gospel.”
One of Anna-Liisa Rinne’s companions as a district missionary was Sister Kerttu Harinen, who has many good memories of that time. “Sister Rinne was my first companion in missionary work. I myself was still a little timid. I grew at her side and received courage enough to serve as a district missionary for many years afterwards. Our first investigator was baptized before we had been companions one month. We had asked that we could practice our missionary discussions with a family whose father did not belong to the Church. So it happened that as the result of our ‘practice’ the father of the family was baptized.”

A friend of ours in South Africa shared how she came to this realization. When Diane was a new convert, she attended a branch outside of Johannesburg. One Sunday, as she sat in the congregation, the layout of the chapel prevented a deacon from seeing her as he passed the sacrament. Diane was disappointed but said nothing. Another member noted the omission and mentioned it to the branch president after the meeting. As Sunday School began, Diane was invited to an empty classroom.
A priesthood holder came in. He knelt, blessed some bread, and handed her a piece. She ate it. He knelt again, blessed some water, and handed her a small cup. She drank it. Diane had two thoughts in rapid succession: “Oh, he [the priesthood holder] did this just for me,” and then, “Oh, He [the Savior] did this just for me.” Through the sacrament, Diane felt Heavenly Father’s love just for her.
Her realization that the Savior’s sacrifice was just for her helped her feel close to Him and fueled an overwhelming desire to keep that feeling in her heart—not just Sunday but every day. She realized that although she sat in a congregation to partake of the sacrament, the covenants she made anew each Sunday were individually hers. The sacrament helped—and continues to help—Diane feel the power of godly love, recognize the Lord’s hand in her life, and draw closer to the Savior.13

Elder Stolt’s grandfather was Vernon Carl Poulter II, who served a three-year, Mandarin-speaking mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1957. Elder Poulter’s first assignment in the Far East Asia Mission was in Taipei, Taiwan. It had only been open to missionaries for a few months, and because none of the Church’s Latter-day revelations had been translated into Chinese yet, teaching the gospel required an extensive 17 lessons before baptism and another 20 after.
Many of Elder Poulter’s contacts showed great potential, but he was always transferred to a new area before they progressed in their conversion. After one transfer, he and his junior companion decided to put their prayers to the test. Elder Poulter suggested: “Let’s pray specifically to be led to someone prepared to hear the gospel, then stay on our bikes until we receive the Spirit’s direction.”
An hour later, at a busy intersection in congested Taipei traffic, Elder Poulter had the distinct impression to turn right. When he caught up with his companion, the impression returned—stronger this time—that they should turn around.
Elder Poulter recorded: “We plunged back into traffic, made a ‘U-Turn’ across four lanes . . . back to the intersection, and turned left through another eight lanes of traffic.”
The elders eventually found themselves on a street that was too narrow even for bicycles. “As we continued on foot, I saw a man a few feet away watching us very intently through an open window. Our eyes met and I knew he was the person to whom we had been led.”
Mr. Hu invited the missionaries in and accepted, without question, their first lesson about the need for latter-day prophets. “Since Joseph Smith saw God and Jesus Christ and is the most important person of our time,” Mr. Hu wondered aloud, “how should I honour him?”
At his request, the missionaries returned the next day to continue teaching Mr. Hu and his family. During the lesson, Elder Poulter recalls that a ‘pure white light’ emanated through the window, but from no apparent source. He writes: “It was clear to my mind that we were in the presence of the Holy Ghost, whose radiance could actually be seen as well as felt.”
After the elders repeated the story of Joseph Smith for his wife and children, Mr. Hu bore his testimony and gave his own lesson to his family based on his reading of a pamphlet the missionaries had left him the day before. “His understanding and sincerity were most impressive,” Elder Poulter recalled. Mr. Hu closed by stating that these elders were bearers of the truth, then asked for permission to translate the pamphlet so he could share it with his friends and neighbours.
“Not knowing better, I said OK . . . we were pleased to see Mr. and Mrs. Hu with their two girls at church the next Sunday.” Then, Elder Poulter was transferred again. Prepared to leave the area, he started to pack a set of books his father had given him for the mission. Along with the standard works, they included, Articles of Faith, Joseph Smith Tells His Own Story, and James E. Talmage’s, The Great Apostasy. “I had the strong impression to take them all to Mr. Hu the next day . . . the [books] were received with joy and gratitude. That was the last I heard of the Hu family on my mission.”
When he finally returned home, Elder Poulter felt discouraged and embarrassed about the meagre results of his three years in the mission field. In time, his perspective changed and some 40 years later, he was inspired to share this experience in a Sunday School class.
“I bore my testimony that our part in the Lord’s plan is not always apparent. I never learned what had become of the Hu family, [but] I don’t have to; doing the Lord’s work is its own reward.”
Three days later, Elder Poulter received a letter that had been forwarded to him via a missionary in Taipei. It was from a Mr. Hu Wei Yi. In the letter, Brother Hu, now in his 80s, recounted his family’s baptism and reported that he had been a patriarch, a temple sealer and was even set apart by President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) to be a translator.
The list of titles Mr. Hu translated included all the books Elder Poulter had given him, plus many more, “and then I read, The Book of Mormon. I couldn’t believe my eyes,” Elder Poulter writes. Yes, the Book of Mormon, the revealed word of God was translated into the second most spoken language in the world, by a humble man who had been prepared by the Lord to meet a pair of faithful missionaries.

Susan and I … have traveled to Africa on many assignments. … We have tried to observe and learn lessons from the behavior of African wildlife. …
Susan and I spent almost two hours watching two cheetahs stalking a large group of topis, Africa’s most common and widespread antelopes. …
While one cheetah sat upright in the grass and did not move, the other cheetah crouched low to the ground and slowly crept closer to the unsuspecting topis. Then the cheetah that had been sitting upright disappeared in the grass at exactly the same moment that the other cheetah sat upright. This alternating pattern of one cheetah crouching low and creeping forward while the other cheetah sat upright in the grass continued for a long time. The stealthy subtlety of the strategy was intended to distract and deceive the topis and thereby divert their attention away from the approaching danger. …
Positioned between the large group of topis and the approaching cheetahs were several older and stronger topis standing as sentinels on termite mounds. The enhanced view of the grasslands from the small hills enabled these guardian topis to watch for signs of danger.
Then suddenly, as the cheetahs appeared to be within striking distance, the entire group of topis turned and ran away. …
… The pattern of pursuit continued. … [The cheetahs] were relentless in following their strategy of distraction and diversion. …
That night Susan and I had a memorable conversation about what we had observed and learned. …
… Spiritually dangerous ideas and actions frequently can appear to be attractive, desirable, or pleasurable. … Each of us needs to beware of beguiling bad that pretends to be good. …
… Spiritual complacency and casualness make us vulnerable to the advances of the adversary. …
Constant vigilance is required to counteract complacency and casualness. …
Satan “is the enemy of righteousness and of those who seek to do the will of God” [Guide to the Scriptures, “Devil,” scriptures.ChurchofJesusChrist.org]. … His only intent and sole purpose are to make the sons and daughters of God miserable like unto himself. …
I promise that the blessings of effective preparation and spiritual protection will flow into your life as you are watchful unto prayer vigilantly and continually.

I shall tell you one more story in closing, one that I think I have told you before. In the days before I went on my first mission, the Saltair Dance Hall was thought to be the finest dance hall in all America. I was there one night, and a young lady came up and said, “LeGrand, we’re having a wonderful banquet downstairs. Wouldn’t you like to join us?”

You know the old saying that the way to a man’s heart is through his tummy. I could not turn that invitation down. So we took hold of hands and went hopscotching down the steps into the north end of that pavilion. As we neared a long table spread, I noticed that by each plate was one of those tall beer bottles they used to have when I was a boy. When I saw that we were headed for that table, I stopped as though I had been shot. The girl I had by the hand looked at me and asked, “What’s the matter? Are you too good to drink a little beer?”

I had to think awfully fast, so I said, “Well, Elsie, I guess I am. I thought you were. Good-bye.” And I went up those steps a lot faster than I had come down.

I have asked myself time and time again if I would ever have become a Presiding Bishop of this Church, to preside over all the young boys of this Church—the Aaronic priesthood and the girls of the same age—if I had sat at that table that day. If one never takes the first beer he never needs to worry about the second one. If he never takes the first cigarette, he never needs to worry about the second one. And so I stand before you here today thanking God for the inspiration of the Holy Ghost that has been my companion through life, that has given me the power to make the decisions that I needed to make so that I can stand here in honor today and advise you to do the same.

As a young missionary I was assigned as a district president to administer the affairs of the Church and preach the gospel in a group of 15 small, scattered islands in the South Pacific. We traveled almost exclusively by sailboat and learned to rely not only on the winds and the currents of the usually friendly seas, but especially on the love of our Father in heaven, as we sailed week after week and month after month from island to island. It was a glorious time, full of the normal challenges of seasickness, becalmings, strange languages, foods, and customs. But mostly it was a time of spiritual closeness to our Father in heaven, whose love and goodness so far overshadowed any temporary pain or problems as to make the latter shrink into obscurity.
On one occasion we received word that a missionary was very ill on a somewhat distant island. The weather was threatening, but feeling responsible, and after prayer, we left to investigate the situation. Extra heavy seas slowed our progress, and it was late afternoon before we arrived. The missionary was indeed very ill. Fervent prayer was followed by administration, during which the impression came very strongly to get him back to the hospital on the main island and to do it now!
The weather had deteriorated to the point of a small gale. The seas were heavy, the clouds were thick, the wind was fierce, the hour was late, and the sun was sinking rapidly, betokening a long black night ahead. But the impression was strong—“Get back now”—and one learns to obey the all-important promptings of the Spirit.
There was much concern expressed and much talk about the darkness, the storm, and the formidable reef with its extremely narrow openings to the harbor we were attempting to gain. Some found reason to stay behind; but soon eight persons, including an ill missionary, a very experienced captain, and a somewhat concerned district president, boarded the boat, and the spiritually prompted voyage to home base began.
No sooner had we made our commitment to the open seas than the intensity of the storm seemed to increase sevenfold. The small gale now became a major storm. As the sun sank below the horizon, bringing with it darkness and gloom, so also did my spirit seem to sink into the darkness of doubt and apprehension. The thick clouds and driving rain increased the blackness of our already dark universe—no stars, no moon, no rest, only turmoil of sea and body and mind and spirit. And as we toiled on through that fearsome night, I found my spirit communing with the spirit of the father of an afflicted child in the New Testament, as he exclaimed, “Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.” (Mark 9:24.) And He did, and He does, and He will. That I know.
As we rolled and tossed closer and closer to the reef, all eyes searched for the light that marked the opening—the only entry to our home. Where was it? The blackness of the night seemed to increase; the fierceness of the raging elements seemed to know no bounds. The rain slashed at our faces and tore at our eyes—eyes vainly searching for that life-giving light.
Then I heard the chilling sound of the waves crashing and chewing against the reef! It was close—too close. Where was that light? Unless we hit the opening exactly, we would be smashed against the reef and ripped and torn by that thousand-toothed monster. It seemed that all the elements were savagely bent on our total destruction. Our eyes strained against the blackness, but we could not see the light.
Some began to whimper, others to moan and cry, and one or two even to scream in hysteria. At the height of this panic, when many were pleading to turn to the left or to the right, when the tumultuous elements all but forced us to abandon life and hope, I looked at the captain—and there I saw the face of calmness, the ageless face of wisdom and experience, as his eyes penetrated the darkness ahead. Quietly his weather-roughened lips parted, and without moving his fixed gaze and just perceptibly shifting the wheel, he breathed those life-giving words, “Ko e Maama e!” (“There is the light!”)
I could not see the light, but the captain could see it. And I knew he could see it. Those eyes long experienced in ocean travel were not fooled by the madness of the storm nor were they influenced by the pleadings of those of lesser experience to turn to the left or to the right. And so with one last great swell we were hurtled through the opening and into calmer waters.
The roaring of the reef was now behind us. Its infamous plan of destruction had been foiled. We were in the protected harbor. We were home. Then and only then did we see through the darkness that one small light—exactly where the captain had said it was. Had we waited until we ourselves could see the light, we would have been dashed to pieces, shredded on the reef of unbelief. But trusting in those experienced eyes, we lived.

One of my most memorable mission experiences increased my appreciation for the scriptures. While I was serving in the Philippines, my companion and I met a wonderful, gentle soul who gradually responded to the spirit and source of the message we shared. He became hungry to learn and to read the word of God. He didn’t understand English well and asked if we could watch for a copy of the Bible in his native language, Tagalog. We found one in a bookstore in Manila and took it to him. He reverently reached out with both hands to take that Bible (Ang Biblia) from us. With much emotion he said, “I have never before held a Bible in my hands.”
Following his baptism, he continued reading both the Bible and the Book of Mormon, but oh how much more quickly he went, especially with the Book of Mormon. With the help of the Holy Ghost, he could understand much more of what he was reading. He couldn’t seem to get enough. When we visited, he showed us all the things he had written in the margins, and shared the thrill he experienced first-hand while searching and pondering God’s books. Watching others’ desire to feast rather than simply read helped deepen my own desires to search the scriptures.

Also, my wife shared one incident that helped her testimony. She had to write a government entrance test on a Sunday. She said that she went to the exam center along with her colleagues. They insisted on visiting one temple before attending exam. She accompanied them. She saw people coming to the temple elegantly dressed with things needed for worship their God. Everybody was following a queue to worship. But the security as well as the priests there were not giving time, not even a minute, to stand and pray. When she was watching all these things, each and every second she was reminded of God’s plan for each of His children and how Jesus is crucial in the plan. She mentioned that every second she was seeing this she was feeling the living nature of our Lord Jesus Christ. These people reminded her of what the Lord uttered in His mortal ministry as written in Matthew 9:37:
“Then saith he unto his disciples, The harvest truly is plenteous, but the labourers are few.”
Even though she was away from church that Sunday, she heartily felt the Holy Spirit witnessing her that Jesus is risen. He is the living Christ for all mankind. This testimony made the foundation of our faith even stronger.