Gospel Story Finder

When the opportunity comes to plan an activity, those involved learn how to cooperate with others to make it a success. Taylor W. of Idaho says, “We planned a water-balloon volleyball game. We got big towels and balloons and tossed the balloons back and forth over a volleyball net with the towels. I felt good because I helped plan it and it went well. It also brought us closer as a quorum because we had to work together.”

Five years later, I was preparing to be endowed and married in the temple. The night before my temple sealing, my brother and his wife attended the temple to perform proxy work for my mother’s parents in preparation for their sealing the next day. My mother was a convert of almost 20 years at the time, and she was eager to begin her family’s history and temple work.
The next day, our grandparents were sealed to each other, my brother and his wife again standing as proxy. It was my wedding day, yes, but it held extra significance for me. My grandparents, whom I had never met, were sharing this special day with me.
A few days later, as my husband and I opened wedding gifts, we opened one very special gift from my grandmother’s first cousin. She was a religious woman who had been close to my grandmother. The gift was a picture of my grandmother on her own wedding day. An accompanying card said, “Your grandmother is so happy with you and is looking down upon you.”
This cousin had no idea how much her message meant to me. Nor did she know of the temple work that had recently been performed for my grandmother. I knew in my heart at that moment that my grandmother was pleased with me and happy that our family had started on the important journey of family history and temple work.
We were a forever family now, on the path of gathering our ancestors and led by my mother in blessing our family on the other side of the veil.

Four years ago, my institute teacher, Brother Suresh Natrajan, asked the class, “How many of you have gone to the temple?” Because my wife, Anantha, and I had made the 10-hour trip to the Hong Kong China Temple for the first time the year before, I raised my hand proudly. Then he asked another question: “Do you remember what covenants you made in the temple?”
His question was thoughtful. There was so much to take in during my first time in the temple. While I had tried to be attentive, after all that time, I realized I had forgotten the covenants that I made in the temple. At that very moment, I made the decision to go back to temple for the second time and this time to pay attention to and remember the covenants I made and other things that are essential for my salvation.
Time passed. I was facing terrible trials in my life. But I was enrolled in an institute class, and one day we had a lesson on the prophet Jonah. Jonah didn’t do what the Lord commanded him to do. One of the verses that caught my attention was Jonah 2:4: “Then I said, I am cast out of thy sight; yet I will look again toward thy holy temple.”
This scripture touched my heart, and I prayed to Heavenly Father to give me and my wife another chance to visit the temple.
After four years, Heavenly Father blessed us to again enter His house, this time in the Taipei Taiwan Temple.
Mahesh and Anantha Vedurupaka in front of the Taipei Taiwan Temple.
While there, I had the opportunity to perform ordinances on behalf of my uncle who had died of cancer. When I was being baptized for him, I thought about the blessings he would receive through this temple ordinance. I was so happy, and I recognized what the temple president told me when I had come to the temple for the first time and had been a little bit confused. He told me, “Brother, you may not understand all of what you are doing right now, but a day will come when you will feel you have done great things here.”
I got my answer. It has taken me four years to understand by visiting the temple for the second time.
Now while partaking of the sacrament each and every week, I remember how powerful the Atonement of Jesus Christ is and how sacred the covenants I have made in the temple are.
This year is mine and my wife’s 10th wedding anniversary. I want to celebrate it in the temple and perform sealing ordinances for my ancestors. To do this, I have been working a second job apart from my regular job, one that doesn’t affect my time with my family.
I know and I feel that temple work is real. Nothing can replace it, and it’s worth any sacrifice to attend the temple and do Heavenly Father’s work for ourselves and for souls who are on the other side of the veil.

I pulled a book from my shelf the other evening. I read again the life of Mary Fielding Smith, wife of Hyrum Smith, sister-in-law of Joseph Smith, mother and grandmother of two presidents of the Church. A convert to the Church, originally from England and then from Canada, she came to Kirtland in her late 30s. There she met and married Hyrum Smith, who was left with six children after the death of his first wife.
Mary loved him and brought an added dimension into his life. In that process she set a course which brought her happiness only to be followed by immeasurable sorrow, for there was laid upon her a terrifying and fearful responsibility which took her from Nauvoo across Iowa to Winter Quarters and, in 1848, on the long trail that led to the Salt Lake Valley. At the age of 51 she was worn out, weary from the struggle. She passed away September 21, 1852.
Her life is the epitome of the Relief Society woman of those days. In fact, some of her experiences predated the organization of the society in 1842.
Mary’s boy Joseph was born at a time when her husband was snatched away by the mob militia then terrorizing Far West. Hyrum and the Prophet Joseph were taken to Liberty, Missouri, where they were imprisoned. Under the compulsion of Governor Lilburn W. Boggs’s extermination order, she left Missouri with the stepchildren for whom she had taken responsibility, as well as her own son. Her sister Mercy placed Mary, who was seriously ill, on a bed in a wagon box with her infant boy cradled at her side.
In February 1839, when winter was still upon the land, they traveled east across the state and then across the Mississippi to Quincy, Illinois, bumping along in a springless wagon where every jolt brought pain.
When her husband and the Prophet escaped from Liberty Jail and came to Quincy, life again improved. The Saints moved to what became Nauvoo and established their beautiful city on the Mississippi. But their peace was short-lived. Her little boy was less than six years old when a knock came at night on her window and a man said, “Sister Smith, your husband has been killed!”
Joseph F. never forgot his mother’s weeping through the night.
Her world was shattered. She was on her own now with a large family to care for. In the summer of 1846, they bade their comfortable home good-bye and rode a flatboat across the Mississippi. Taking matters into her own hands, she was able to trade, borrow, and barter for ox teams and wagons.
While living in Winter Quarters, she and her brother went down the Missouri River to purchase provisions and clothing. They had two wagons, each having two yoke of oxen. Camping for the night, they discovered in the morning that their two best oxen were gone. Young Joseph and his uncle spent the entire morning looking for the lost animals. They found nothing. Disheartened, he returned to tell his mother. Their situation was desperate, terribly so. As he approached, he saw her on her knees praying fervently, speaking with the Lord about their problem. When she arose to her feet, there was a smile on her face. She told her son and her brother to get their breakfast and she would look around. Following a little stream of water, and disregarding the words of a man who was in the area, she went directly along the bank of the river.
Pausing, she called to her son and brother. She pointed to their oxen, which had been tied to a clump of willows growing in the bottom of a deep gulch. The thief, who had tried to misdirect her, lost his prize and they were saved.
Mary’s faith imprinted itself in her son’s boyish heart. He never forgot it. He never doubted her closeness to the Lord.
All of you are familiar with her experience when one of her oxen, exhausted and worn, lay down to die while they were en route to these valleys in the West. In a mixture of utter desperation and simple faith, she secured consecrated oil and asked her brother and an associate to administer to the ox. They did so. It rose to its feet with a renewal of strength and carried them for the remainder of their long journey.
Such was the faith, sweet and simple and beautiful, which graced this woman’s life. She walked in the light of the Lord. She lived by that light. It guided her in all of her actions. It became the lodestar of her life. She exemplified the tremendous faith of the women of this Church—the women of the Relief Society, who today on a thousand fronts carry on the dedicated work of this remarkable organization.

Alasdair sat up straighter in his red velvet chair as the lights began to dim. The people in the theater stopped chatting and looked up at the stage. Alasdair’s sister, Sutton, folded her program. Then she caught his eye and smiled. “Ready, Al?” she asked.
Tonight was Alasdair’s first time at the theater. His parents loved to watch plays, and when Sutton turned 10, they started taking her with them. Now Alasdair was finally old enough to go too!
The orchestra began the overture. Then the actors walked out on stage and the show began.
Alasdair loved the play. It had adventure, mystery—and even some great jokes! When the show ended, all the actors came out for their curtain call. As Alasdair joined the applause, he had a good feeling, like he sometimes got in Primary. Was he feeling the Holy Ghost? It can’t be. I’m not at church! Alasdair thought.
Overture—music at the beginning of the play
Curtain call—when the actors take their bow at the end of a play
On the way home, Alasdair sat by Sutton on the subway. “Did you like the play?” she asked as the train rattled through the dark tunnels.
Alasdair nodded. “I loved it!”
“Me too,” Sutton said.
Alasdair thought about how good he had felt during the play. “Sutton,” he said, “when we were watching the play, I felt happy, sort of like I do at church. But the play wasn’t about the gospel!”
“That was the Holy Ghost,” Sutton said as the train stopped and they followed their parents onto the platform. “He can tell us what’s good for us to be around and what isn’t. Did you think the play had a good message?”
“Yes,” Alasdair said. “It was about being kind to other people.”
“Right!” Sutton said as they climbed up the escalator behind their parents. “The Holy Ghost is always there to tell us when things are good for us to be around—not just when we’re at church. We just have to listen.”

One of my first assignments after I received the call to serve in the Primary General Presidency was to teach members in Brazil. This was hard for me because I don’t know the Portuguese language. I knew I needed to pray. I asked Heavenly Father to please help me so I could communicate and teach the way He wanted me to.
Again, I received a feeling of comfort and reassurance that I would be able to communicate and teach the things that the people needed to learn. I didn’t learn the language in the eight weeks before I traveled or in the two weeks I was there, but ways were opened and things happened that I knew were answers to my prayers.
I know that Heavenly Father hears and answers our prayers, even though the answers may not come in the form of a miracle—my parents didn’t come home the minute I finished praying, Margie wasn’t immediately healed, and I didn’t learn Portuguese. Most often, answers to prayers come as a feeling of peace. They come as a feeling of reassurance. They come as a feeling that Heavenly Father knows you and me personally and wants to bless us.

This story took place in Japan.
Akari helped her little sister, Miori, put out their Nativity set. She loved getting ready for Christmas.
The figure of the baby Jesus reached up from the manger with a smile on His face. Akari smiled too. It made her think about how much Jesus loved her. Many people in Japan didn’t celebrate Jesus Christ’s birth like Akari’s family did. But they still gave gifts and spent time with family around Christmas.
Dad’s phone rang. He picked it up and talked for a minute. “Thanks for the reminder,” he said. “I’ll see you on Christmas morning.” He put down the phone.
“Are you going to the service project?” Akari asked.
“That’s right,” Dad said. “I’m going to Tokyo to help give food to people without homes. Some people in our ward help out every year.”
“Can I come this time?” Akari asked.
“Sure!” Dad said. “Miori can come too.”
On Christmas morning, Akari’s family woke up early to open presents. Akari loved her gift! She was excited to play with it later.
Mom packed lunches for everyone and hugged them goodbye. Then Akari, Dad, and Miori got on the train.
When the train got to Tokyo, Dad led Akari and Miori to a park with lots of tents and people.
“These are the people we are here to serve,” Dad said. “They don’t have much, and having food for Christmas will be a blessing to them.”
A group of people set out bread rolls, noodle bowls, and desserts on tables. Akari saw some kids her age helping too.
“Are all these people from our church?” Akari asked Dad.
“Not all of them,” Dad said. “Isn’t it great how many people want to help?”
Akari, Miori, and Dad put food into boxes. Then they helped give the boxes to the people in line. “Merry Christmas,” Akari told each person.
Soon all the boxes were gone. But there were still people in line waiting for food!
Dad frowned. “I guess there isn’t enough.” He turned to the people waiting. “I’m so sorry. We’re out of food.”
Akari didn’t want those people to go without food. Was there something she could do?
“They can have my lunch,” she said.
“Good idea!” Dad said. “Let’s all share our lunches.” The other helpers nodded. They got out the lunches they’d brought for themselves. All the people in the line got some food!
Akari was a little hungry, but that was OK. The people at the park needed the food more than she did.
“I’m proud of you,” Dad said on the train ride home. “That was nice of you to share your food.”
“It’s what Jesus would do,” Akari said.
Akari felt warm and happy inside for the rest of the day. And not just because it was Christmas! She was glad she could share the Savior’s love.
What did Akari do to be like Jesus?
Illustration by Amanda Yoshida

Before Eleanor Sayers Harman died, she gave all of her funds to her daughter Edith and counseled her to go to America.
Edith had been cast out by her husband when she joined the Church. She and eight-year-old Nellie left England with the flimsy assurance that a missionary thought his family in Idaho might take them in until they could be located.
Nellie was my wife’s mother; Edith, her grandmother. I knew them well. They were women of special nobility.

My husband and I wanted to help our family feel the Spirit more in our family scripture study. We had heard Elder Gene R. Cook, then of the Seventy, suggest singing a hymn before family scripture study, so we decided to implement this counsel. Although our teenage sons were somewhat resistant to the idea, they agreed to give it a try.
The following day I played hymns on our stereo about 30 minutes before our scheduled reading time. What happened next changed everything for us. This music had touched our then 13-year-old son (who had been the most resistant to our initial proposal) to the extent that he wanted to sing all the verses of the hymn, and he even wanted to sing more than one hymn! This same son now relies on the hymns when he is discouraged or tempted.
We use the hymns not only for family scripture study but also at family home evening and on Sundays.
Marci Owen, Utah, USA

Recently I had the opportunity of riding a pleasure boat up Germany’s Rhine River. The three-hour trip only covered a few miles because we had to go against the current. The bus that took us to that boat sped on ahead to our destination, affording the driver a long nap while he waited for our vessel to churn against the river before catching up to him. As we sunned on the deck, looking at the medieval castles jutting out among the vineyard-covered hills paralleling the famous river, we saw many similar boats pass us from the opposite direction traveling at several times our speed.
Perhaps you have experienced such a boat ride or tried to swim or row against the current. You might have wished then that it was your option, like our oncoming craft, to ride easily in the opposite direction—allowing the force of the current to sustain you instead of the exertion of muscles. There is an obvious parallel in our secular society: it is easy, fun, fashionable, acceptable, even legal to move with the sensual current in entertainment, in courtship, in reading materials, but it leads into a secular atmosphere that you do not control. There is, however, another life-style that could be called “swimming upstream.”
For example, there was a young soldier on sentry duty one day. His foul-mouthed sergeant, whom he generally avoided, approached him. The recruit steeled himself for the customary barrage of profanity that he would later have to scour from his mind. Instead his sergeant said, “You’re a Mormon, aren’t you?” The recruit nodded in the affirmative, with some surprise, only to be stunned by the next observation: “I could tell because you don’t swear.” The private gulped inwardly as he took quick inventory. The sergeant continued: “You know what gets me about you guys? You are good when you don’t have to be!”
Another time in the military a whole delegation of LDS college men went through summer training. As they moved from one field demonstration to another, each hour they endured the military instructors who began each session with a dirty joke. One NCO unintentionally prefaced the inevitable lewd story by asking, “Anyone object to a joke?” There was a split second of intense silence while the opportunity ran through the group. Then quickly from the back came a solitary but solid, “Yes.” The cadreman looked up in shocked surprise, immediately becoming defensive. Intending to intimidate such an upstart, he fired back, “Well, leave if you don’t like it.” Again a second of silence—followed by a decision. Then three-fourths of the group voted with their feet.
The military experience is like other forays into secularism that LDS youth are facing today. They are away from home with carnal options on every hand—gambling, profanity, pornography, immorality, and bug-out-ism. Such crass enticements successfully ensnare the uncommitted, but thousands of others choose to swim against the current. One young priest, during his first week away from home, confronted some returned missionaries in his barracks who appeared more sophisticated. Why weren’t they saying their prayers, he queried. His challenge encouraged them all to overcome their smoothly disguised fears of censure. They joined after lights out for a family prayer each night. Soon they discovered that their Mormon compatriots throughout the post were doing the same in small scattered groups; they even included their fellow nonmember squad members. The result was a brotherhood—blessing when sick, counseling when troubled, and bolstering each other during competition—instead of the harassing, cutting, and undermining that are so common in basic training. This higher life occurs without leaders or instructions; it emerges from being “anxiously engaged in a good cause,” from conviction, from feeling the power of God within. All over the globe, many Mormon youth seek out each other. Their spiritual adventures are legion. They often reach out to friends who have followed the carnal path into deprivation. Their example, caring, and persistence have supported many through a transformation that has led them into the Melchizedek Priesthood, the temple, sometimes mission calls—in other words, into their eternal potential.
These modern youth discover the spiritual adventure, not appreciated by many today, that is symbolized by the legendary friendship of David and Jonathan in ancient Israel. Here were two young men who should have been rivals because David was anointed to be the successor to Jonathan’s father, King Saul. Instead, their commitment to virtue bound them, as the scripture says, so “that the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.” (1 Sam. 18:1.)
The contemporary Davids and Jonathans in high schools and colleges, in the mission fields or army, on the job or the playing field, experience these rare friendships. They have no need to long for that relationship between David and Jonathan. It is available right now.
How can that be?
It is because there are many young Latter-day Saints, worldwide, who have caught the vision. They have discovered that by adhering to the Word of Wisdom, attending church, paying tithing, and performing other essential requirements, they are prepared to move on to a higher law—one that happens only in the soul, one that causes a burning in the bosom, a resolve in the mind, and a love in the heart. Once this happens, these youth discover a whole new vista about the gospel. They realize that being able to proudly answer to a bishop that they have refrained from sin is an exciting achievement and will help one enter the temple. But there is also a virtue built upon that restraint; it consists of positive acts that one has initiated. These are possible for young men and women who master their natural tendencies and then continue to grow by adding personal initiatives—magnifying the priesthood and radiating virtue.
This is what bound David and Jonathan; it was pure joy to love one who also loved virtue. Jonathan added selflessness and sacrifice to his basic self-mastery; David added total dedication. Their love for one another was magnified because they were committed to common principles. Their lives had purpose well beyond desire to rule an earthly kingdom over which they could easily have parted. Instead theirs was a consecration to build a kingdom of God. This vision throbbed in their beings and gave meaning to their lives.
For them and countless of your generation, it is not only a matter of filling requirements and doing what is expected in the structured environment of the Church. Instead, while holding to that rod, you go beyond to total dedication on your own initiative. It is the adventure of virtue when you are away from observation. That is where you find spiritual excitement—when you are on your own.
The result is electric.
In countless student apartments prayer permeates college life without destroying fun. On campus, as well as on the job, friendships grow beyond the joys of adolescent idealism when Mormon youth out on their own discover the adventure that awaits those who achieve self-mastery. In one apartment, for example, four freshmen lay awake late into the nights discussing the profundities of a universe governed by eternal progression. In another circle several young men regularly drove to the mountainside where they could view the heavens and discuss truths learned. There they extended the evening’s worship, pondering the galaxies. The power of prayer bound two other youthful companions, who were linked by friendship and by assignment as local missionaries. Because of the draft and a war, they were not called as full-time elders, but they did not let that rob them of the power others had to go to distant lands to discover. They found it on their own through mighty prayer, as have many others. There are home evening groups on many campuses that love roommates into the gospel—often guiding them through the substantial trials that conversion can inflict. These examples are not unusual; they are but a selection from a whole vista of LDS youth who are developing their own lifestyle, one not depicted in movies and records but one with a higher adventure.
Among them are some youth with real spiritual courage who contact a bishop to confess. These are the genuine heros who internalize the gospel. Instead of living behind a facade of acceptability, they choose to bare their soul to a judge in Israel. Anyone who has occupied that judgment seat is awed by the courage and integrity of those young Church members who take the scriptural admonition literally: “By this you may know if a man repenteth of his sins—behold, he will confess them and forsake them.” (D&C 58:43.)
In that vista of virtue, there are many who choose to develop their own courtship style instead of adopting the romanticized recreation that is loudly flaunted by the male-conquest approach. One such elder confided: “At first she was afraid, but when she discovered I would not take advantage of her, she developed a trust in me. What scares me is that now she trusts me too much. I could damage that sacred trust, so my challenge is to protect her from me. That is why I have to be the one who is in control instead of depending on her to resist.”
These are only a sample of the youth on several continents. You have undoubtedly felt their spirit too—in different places and with different actions. Not all achieve this level of internal growth, nor do even the best maintain such spirituality at all times. But this possibility of self-mastery plus positive virtue is achievable. It is often found powerfully in those under 18. You can strive for it without apology.
You must realize that such spiritual achievement does not immunize one from difficulties or doubt. Nor will it endow you with unearned talent. But it brings you an eternal perspective for our times. It will help you perceive the essence of the gospel life-style for a new era. Instead of despairing about the norms of society that are deteriorating and the laws that are legalizing what used to be forbidden, you will find a way to utilize the new freedom instead of allowing it to destroy the gospel environment. Whereas many of the youth of certain past centuries were controlled so they would avoid sin, you will know the heady feeling of voluntary choice; you can internalize moral restraints that will emerge more from conviction. This will be harder to sustain than the puritanical system of the past, but it will also bring more adventure to those who catch the vision.
Many will not be able to stand such freedom; they will be enticed by situation ethics, relativism, and even overt temptations. They will jump on the old-fashioned bandwagon that will be dressed in new apparel without recognizing that the arguments are crass. “Everyone is doing it,” “It’s your own life, so live it,” “It’s all right for consenting adults,” “There is a new morality that has outgrown conformity”—these are not new insights, merely new wrappings for sensualism. They will not lead to enduring the sublime joy. They will not qualify as spiritual adventure. Instead, it is positive virtue that leads to the celestial—even to knowing some of its joy right now.
There is more spiritual adventure to come than has yet passed—for those who swim upstream.

To illustrate this I would like to tell you of a struggle one family, who is dear to me, has experienced. This family has chosen to seek the light rather than let the darkness and evil of the world overcome their hearts.

Eric a senior at the local high school loved music. He played the piano, guitar and the cello. His home was often filled with the sound of him playing one of these instruments. He gave of himself to others with kind words and helping hands. He shared the talents and light that he had with everyone. Every day when he came home and before he went to bed, he would tell his mother he loved her. One spring day, Eric and his sister came home from school for lunch and interrupted a burglary in progress. Eric was shot and killed.

When the family was finally able to return to their home after this tragic event, some of the family members were reluctant to use the room where his death had occurred. Eric's mother told the family, "We can either think of this as the spot where Eric was shot, or we can think of this as holy ground, and we are going to think of it as holy ground."

Since that day, the family has remembered the lives Eric saved through his organ donation. They have celebrated Eric's love of music by awarding an annual music scholarship at his former high school. This past month over fifty family members and friends just finished participating in the 19th Annual Victory Over Violence Walk/Run with all proceeds being given to anti-violence programs in the community.

I quote from an address given by Eric's mother in Sacrament meeting on Easter 2013:

"Three years ago I stood at this podium and spoke to the ward. As I was speaking, I remember looking over and seeing my son Eric and his father sitting at the sacrament table. For some reason, that really touched me. In fact, I believe it was the only time they blessed the sacrament together. I remember thinking how lucky I was to be part of such a wonderful family. The following day, my daughter and Eric went home for lunch. Intruders were in our home. Luckily, my daughter escaped, but Eric did not."

This good mother continued by quoting from her favorite hymn, "I Know That My Redeemer Lives."

"'He lives to silence all my fears.'He lives to wipe away my tears.'He lives to calm my troubled heart.'He lives all blessings to impart.'[15]

"In my hour of deepest sorrow, I found peace from the words of the angel that first Easter morning: 'He is not here: for he is risen.'[16] Without this knowledge of the resurrection and without the knowledge that we can be reunited in the next life, I could not have born the loss.

"I know that my Redeemer lives. As President Monson said, 'This is the knowledge that sustains. This is the truth that comforts. This is the assurance that guides those who are bowed down with grief—out of the shadows and into the light.'"[17]

I am from a family of 10 children. My mom is a product of Laie. Her name is Masinaoina Malufau, she attended this University which was then called Church College of Hawaii and danced at the Polynesian Cultural Center. My mom and dad met in 1966. They were only acquaintants at first. My mom mentioned to him on occasion about her goals and plans for the future.

As a young Samoan girl she decided while still a child in primary that she would serve a full-time mission for the church and when she returned from her mission she would only settle for a Temple Marriage and throughout the years learned, understood, and lived the standards that are required of a candidate for a Celestial Marriage.

Brothers and sisters, my dad fell in love with the gospel before he even took the lessons. He did take her to the House of the Lord in 1968; in which they were sealed for time and all eternity. Although, she didn't get an opportunity to go on a full-time mission for the church, she raised eight boys who were sent all over the world to build the Lord's kingdom. The first served in Nagoya, Japan. The second opened the mission in Palau; on the island of Yap. The third served in Quebec, Canada. The fourth served in Vina Del Mar, Chile. I served in Cleveland, Ohio. The sixth served in Roseville, California. The seventh served in Joao Pesoa, Brazil. And the last served in Hiroshima, Japan.

One evening at the dinner table, after my older brother Jarinn returned from his mission in Chile, South America, my mom with tears in her eyes said to my dad "honey, if I did go on a mission, I would have never touched the lives of as many people as our boys have." My mom was building her little army of stripling warriors.

Brothers and sisters, I truly believe the Lord had his eyes on my dad from a very young age. My mother was given the special task of recruiting my dad to assist in the building of the Lord's kingdom.

During the final months of our mission last year, we experienced an event that taught once again this profound principle that each of us is known and loved by God.

Elder Neal A. Maxwell was coming to New York City for some Church business, and we were informed that he would also like to have a mission conference. We were so pleased to have this opportunity to hear from one of the Lord’s chosen servants. I was asked to select one of our missionaries to provide the opening prayer for the meeting. I might have randomly picked one of the missionaries to pray, but felt to ponder and prayerfully select one whom the Lord would have me ask. In going through the missionary roster, a name boldly stood out to me: Elder Joseph Appiah of Accra, Ghana. He was the one I felt the Lord wanted to pray at the meeting.

Prior to the mission conference, I was having a regularly scheduled interview with Elder Appiah and told him of the prompting that I had received for him to pray. With amazement and humility in his eyes, he began to weep deeply. Somewhat surprised by his reaction, I started to tell him that it was all right and he wouldn’t have to pray, when he informed me he would love to offer the prayer, that his emotion was caused by the love he has for Elder Maxwell. He told me that this Apostle is very special to the Saints in Ghana and to his own family. Elder Maxwell had called his father to be the district president in Accra and had sealed his mother and father in the Salt Lake Temple.

Now, I didn’t know any of what I just related about this missionary or his family, but the Lord did and inspired a mission president on behalf of one missionary to provide a lifelong memory and testimony-building experience.

At the meeting, Elder Appiah offered a wonderful prayer and made a humble contribution to a meeting where Elder Maxwell taught the missionaries of the attributes of Jesus Christ. All who were there will never forget the feelings of love they experienced for their Savior.

“I was walking several steps ahead of grandpa [President Lorenzo Snow] when he stopped me, saying … ‘It was right here that the Lord Jesus Christ appeared to me at the time of the death of President Woodruff. … He stood right here, about one meter above the floor. It looked as though He stood on a plate of solid gold.’
“Grandpa told me what a glorious personage the Savior is and described His hands, feet, countenance and beautiful White Robes, all of which were of such a glory of whiteness and brightness that he could hardly gaze upon Him.
“Then grandpa said … ‘I want you to remember that this is the testimony of your grandfather, that he told you with his own lips that he actually saw the Savior here in the Temple and talked with Him face to face’” (Allie Young Pond, personal journal).

One experience of wanting more holiness came for me in the Salt Lake Temple. I entered the temple for the first time having been told little of what to expect. I had seen the words on the building: “Holiness to the Lord” and “The House of the Lord.” I felt a great sense of anticipation. Yet I wondered if I was prepared to enter.
My mother and father walked ahead of me as we entered the temple. We were asked to show our recommends, certifying our worthiness.
My parents knew the man at the recommend desk. So they lingered a moment to speak with him. I went ahead alone into a large space where everything was sparkling white. I looked up at a ceiling so high above me it seemed an open sky. In that moment, a clear impression came to me that I had been there before.
But then, I heard a very soft voice—it was not my own. The softly spoken words were these: “You have never been here before. You are remembering a moment before you were born. You were in a sacred place like this. You felt the Savior was about to come into the place where you stood. And you felt happiness because you were eager to see Him.”
That experience in the Salt Lake Temple lasted only a moment. Yet the memory of it still brings peace, joy, and quiet happiness.
I learned many lessons that day. One was that the Holy Ghost speaks in a still, small voice. I can hear Him when there is spiritual peace in my heart. He brings a feeling of happiness and assurance that I am becoming more holy. And that always brings the happiness I felt in those first moments in a temple of God.

I was about nine years old when two foreign missionaries first visited my family in the Philippines. I was impressed with their grooming and friendliness, but I couldn’t understand a word they said. They taught in English, and only Mama and Papa understood them, because both were schoolteachers.
I still recall the day Mama threw down the Book of Mormon and refused to read any more. She had heard some lies about the Church and was upset that Papa was allowing the missionaries to teach us.
Papa just picked up the book and calmly said, “Open your heart and listen to the teachings. This book is true. Read this, and you’ll know it is true.”
I don’t know exactly what happened, but six months later I was surprised when Mama announced we were going to be baptized. I knew little of the Church, and I didn’t want another baptism. But I couldn’t resist my parents’ will, so I was baptized.
Joseph Smith, however, remained a big concern. I couldn’t believe he was a prophet of God, and every time someone taught about him I wanted to shout, “That’s not true!” But I couldn’t utter it. When I was asked to share my testimony, I repeated words I had heard others speak.
Though I did not believe Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, I did believe some of the Church’s teachings and enjoyed attending church—except for the first Sunday of the month. Over and over I would hear the members bearing testimony that Joseph Smith was a prophet. It irritated me. I eventually became so angry that I didn’t want to attend church. I made up excuses not to attend, but Papa wouldn’t allow any of his children to be left at home on Sundays.
I was about 14 years old when Papa enrolled me in seminary. That really bothered me. I wasn’t interested, and I felt forced to attend. The first meeting, I purposely arrived late. But to my surprise, no one was at the chapel except Brother Cedillo, the custodian. He turned out to be my seminary teacher.
When the other students arrived, Brother Cedillo asked if any of us had read the Book of Mormon. Nobody answered. He opened the book and asked us to read with him, beginning at 1 Nephi 1:1. I do not remember what else my teacher said that day, but I do remember the powerful testimony he bore of the Book of Mormon. I was touched in my heart, and as I walked home I felt happy. I couldn’t understand why.
That night I resolved to read the Book of Mormon. I started reading after dinner, with a prayer that I could understand. I kept reading till midnight. As I read, I imagined the characters in the Book of Mormon acting out the scenes as if I were watching television. I didn’t understand some of the words, but as I read of the sufferings the prophets in the Book of Mormon endured for testifying of the truth, tears rolled down my cheeks. I had been angry at members of the Church for doing the same thing the prophets had done! I pictured myself as one of those who had persecuted the prophets—and realized how ungrateful I had been.
I continued reading the next day and into the night. I couldn’t sleep until I finished reading the Book of Mormon. When I finally closed the book, I knelt and asked God for forgiveness. In my prayer, I testified that I knew the Book of Mormon was true. And I knew that if the Book of Mormon was true, then Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, because he translated the book. As I said “amen,” my face was wet with tears. I felt at peace and filled with joy.
The experience helped me later when I served a full-time mission in the Philippines Cebu Mission. It helped me understand better my investigators’ concerns about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. Today my heart still fills with gratitude for the great blessings God has given me and my family.

Such cruelty is a mystery to Adjoa. Her own heart is tender toward all suffering or sadness. She was already comforting those who stood in need of comfort before she ever made baptismal covenants. And if she can’t help someone personally, she fasts and prays for him. When her younger brother, Dominic, who had been living with her aunt and uncle, was taken to live with his grandmother in London, Adjoa was worried about him. She fasted and prayed for him and was comforted.

Adjoa dreams of being a wife and mother someday, but she is also preparing herself to be a businesswoman until that day comes. Whatever happens, she won’t forget the real reason she came to earth. “Heavenly Father sent us here to get a body and be tested and then return to Him. He gave us a Savior who died on the cross to save us from our sins. I love Jesus. I love Heavenly Father.”

One of Ghana’s most important crops is cacao, from which yummy chocolate is made. But Ghana’s future depends on something sweeter than chocolate. It rests with children like Adjoa whose love and goodness will call down the powers of heaven on behalf of their people.

Note: Since this story was written, Adjoa has been reunited with her parents and three brothers.

Another young man, Spencer W. Kimball, was about fourteen when Susa Gates spoke at their stake conference. He recalls: “She gave a rousing talk on the reading of the scriptures; … then she stopped … to ask … us, ‘How many of you have read the Bible through?’

“… My accusing heart said to me, ‘You, Spencer Kimball, you have never read that holy book. Why?’ I looked around me … to see if I was alone in my failure to read the sacred book. Of the thousand people, there were perhaps a half dozen who proudly raised their hands. … When the meeting closed, I … rushed home … gritting my teeth and saying to myself, ‘I will. I will.’”

He went home, got a coal-oil lamp, and climbed the stairs to his attic room. “There,” he said, “I opened my Bible and began [with] Genesis … and I read well into the night with Adam and Eve … and through the flood even to Abraham.” (President Kimball Speaks Out, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1981, pp. 92–93.)

He continued to read a little each night. Although he didn’t always understand what he was reading, he had made a commitment to himself. At the end of a year, he had finished. This achievement set a pattern for his life. The sermons and the writings of President Kimball convince us that he has labored long hours to gain his profound insights into the holy scriptures.

When I started Ricks College as a 17 year-old freshman in September of 1965, I was here as a graduate of a very large high school just down the valley. Rexburg was a familiar place to me and I was comfortable coming here because my umbilical cord was stretched for only about 30 miles. (For those without a medical background, that means my mother was only 30 miles away.)
I was outwardly quite confident that I would soon be clamping that cord as I showed my parents and myself that I could stand on my own and succeed here.
Inwardly, however, I was scared. What if I can't do the homework? What about all that reading I've heard about? What if I sit home on Saturday night and watch Lawrence Welk re-runs because no one will go out with me? And the big one that scared me most: What if I'm just not college material?
My fears were heightened as I came to the registration process. I must explain something about the registration process in 1965. The word computer in those days, meant someone who calculates something (we also called them nerds) and on-line was where you hoped the clothes were after a windstorm.
The registration process back then consisted of a long line of tables where the students came at their appointed times and picked up cards for classes they wanted to take. They would finish by turning the cards in at another table to see if everything fit. If it didn't, they started over again. Mine didn't work the first few times, and it took the help of a wonderful advisor to get me through the process.
I soon found that this campus was really a very friendly place and that the homework was do-able if I applied myself. The staff and faculty were all oriented toward helping students and I found that they were just extensions of a loving Heavenly Father who was always there for me. I testify to you that none of that has changed.
I had many glorious experiences here and was involved in many extra-curricular activities. My sophomore year I was invited to be a co-chairman of a springtime event they called R-Week. It was similar in some ways to Homecoming in that there was a parade, and a concert, and a dance, and whitewashing the AR on the North Menan Butte.
The biggest event of the week was the Friday afternoon competitions on the football field where clubs and individuals would compete. The crowning event was to be a tug-of-war, with the losing side being dragged through a fire hose. (Our fun was simple in those days!) School was to be dismissed for the afternoon and the whole student body would turn out.
We started the week with glorious April weather, but as Friday approached cloudy days appeared and rain was forecast.
Those of us on the R-Week Committee had been working for several months to be ready for this event and our spirits plummeted as we saw the predicted weather move in. On Thursday evening, as the wind and rain threatened to spoil Friday's field events, our concerned committee counseled together and decided we had to have the Lord's help if the day were to be saved. We decided to begin a fast and to meet the next day before noon for prayer.
The next morning dawned, raining and cold. As I went about my morning classes, I felt as gloomy as the weather. I wondered how Heavenly Father could let this happen when we had worked so hard, and especially since we were now fasting for His help. When our committee met, I could see the same doubts in each of them. We knelt together and poured out our hearts to the Lord.
We ended the prayer and looked out the window to ongoing rain. We decided that we had better act on our faith so we went to the field to continue our preparations.
As the events were to start at 1 p.m., we were standing on the field at about 12:00, and we watched as the rain stopped, the clouds over this part of Rexburg parted, and the sun shone through, drying the football field. The surrounding skies were still cloud-filled with rain here and there in the distance, but we started our competitions that day on a dry, sun-filled field.
As the events came to a close several hours later, our committee watched in awe as the clouds closed in and the wind and rain started again. We looked at the sky and then at each other and felt immense gratitude that our faith had been confirmed.
I'm certain that the miracle went unnoticed by many of the student body that day, but those of us who had worked behind the scenes knew that God had answered our prayers.
There is still, somewhere in the historical files of this institution, a two page summary written by a humbled young R-Week Co-chairman, testifying to future student leaders (and anyone else who would read it) that God indeed intervenes in the affairs of men.

“It is my own life story because it really is a portrayal of me. I faced the same problems in my life,” said Raymond Tracey, a young Navaho Latter-day Saint from Ganada, Arizona, and star of a new motion picture, Indian.
Tracey (most of his friends call him by his last name) portrays a young Navaho who lived on a reservation with his grandparents until he was old enough to be taken out of his Indian world and educated in the white man’s world. After high school his life is at a crossroads. He was born an Indian, has the blood and looks of an Indian, and yet doesn’t feel like an Indian.
He wonders whether he should stay in the world that he has become used to, or if he should go back to the reservation and try to become an Indian once again. He gets in his jeep and begins a journey to talk to other Indians before he can decide who he is and where he belongs. He works hard to discover what being Indian really means.
Tracey has a natural feel for the character in the film. He could understand many of his concerns and confusion because he left his own home and parents when he was ten to live with another family and attend school on the Church’s Indian placement program.
“I had some ideas about the two very different worlds of the main character in the film,” said Brother Kieth Merrill, producer-director of Indian. “As we shot footage of Tracey each day, new insights and feelings would keep presenting themselves. Finally we reached a point where it was hard to tell where the story line I was carrying around in my head stopped and the story of Tracey’s own life began. The plot of Tracey’s life was so strong and universal that it merged with the story line of the film.”
The film portrays specific experiences that differ from those that actually happened to Tracey, but most of the emotional conflicts and discoveries are identical to those he experienced while he was growing up.
Before the main character in the film leaves the reservation for school, his grandfather tells him, “Always remember, my son, that you are an Indian. Don’t forget it. Gain an education, but be proud of your Indian heritage at the same time.”
Tracey’s parents felt the same way about sending him on placement. “My parents always wanted the best for me,” he said. “I didn’t know we were poor when I was small, but now I know it. We lived in a one-room house with a dirt floor. I didn’t see my father very often because he would leave for work at five in the morning. He had to hitchhike into town and then go to work driving a logging truck all day. He came home at night after I was in bed.” His father did this summer and winter. Both parents hoped and planned and worked, and taught their children.
“They planted some important ideas deep inside our minds while we were very young.”
They taught Tracey and his brothers and sisters the gospel and English while they were small children. Tracey went to kindergarten speaking English when most of his friends spoke only Navaho. He also learned that he was special in the sight of his Father in heaven. It was easier for him to adjust to placement because of this background.
“The gospel has always been a force in my life. In addition I never had to think in Navaho and then translate it into English. I grew up thinking in English, and that is an asset. I was called on a mission to my people before I learned to speak Navaho and think the way Navahos think.”
Leaving home and family was hard for young Tracey, but he adjusted well.
“Once I got over seeing everyone as either a brown skin or a white skin, I really got a lot out of placement. I wasn’t treated as a foreigner. All my brothers and sisters and my new mom and dad made me welcome. But I was no guest to be pampered. I was a total part of the family. I had to take out the trash, wash dishes three times a week, and carry my own part of the responsibilities just like everyone else.”
Tracey’s participation in sports helped his natural shyness to fade and gave him confidence in all of his abilities. “Without confidence I would never have been able to perform in front of a camera and crew, with a hundred people on the set watching me,” he said.
His increasing knowledge of the gospel also gave him confidence.
“My foster parents taught me the value of a really good, stable family life. I grew up with good families. We had family prayer, family home evening, and we went to church together. These are all examples I hope to follow with my own family,” he said.
In the film Tracey travels across America talking to other Indians. He asks, “What is an Indian? What does he do? How does he think?” And, of course, each person he talks to gives a different answer. He met and talked to many interesting people. This is exciting to him because it has given him a chance to help accurately portray Lamanites and give them some identity and credit.
“They deserve a better image of themselves than what they have seen in the movies. I’ve grown up seeing my people portrayed only as scalping savages.
“While I was still living in Arizona, we would get to see movies in elementary school. There were a lot of cowboy, cavalry, and Indian films shown. Indians would invariably sweep around the bend and wipe out a whole wagon train. They were savages. Then the cavalry would dash after the Indians, and that whole theater of Indian kids would shout and cheer for the cavalry. No kid wants to identify with the bad guy, and yet we never saw a film where Indians were any good. I was always a cowboy when we played cowboys and Indians. Cowboys rode white horses, carried shiny guns, and always won. Indians weren’t smart enough to win,” Tracey said.
Yet deep inside himself Tracey knew he could win. His parents had taught him that winning depends on the individual. They had taught him that if you want to win, you can win. “Feeling inferior is terrible, and I felt it quite often during junior high school,” he said.
By the time he got into high school, however, Tracey knew he was breaking out of his inferiority feelings. He ran cross-country for the track team, and he was elected student body vice-president.
“By then I felt great,” he said. “I remembered the teachings of my own parents. I knew I had a Father in heaven who loved me and that in his eyes I was just as good as anyone else. I knew I would be judged on my own abilities and what I was able to do with them.
“Now, through the medium of film, I can help other Indians gain a realization of these same true principles.”
Tracey also feels that many of his childhood teachings would be beneficial for all men to know. When he was young, he learned to notice the order and balance of nature. “My father had me look at a bee, and he would say, ‘Look at that little stinger and how it comes out. It can be used for two things, good or bad. If you hurt him or threaten him, he will sting you with the stinger. But if you let him alone, he’ll use that stinger to gather pollen and nectar from the flowers. And he’ll take it back to his home and make honey out of it. You have the knowledge to destroy him or to use him for your own benefit. He is your brother.’”
Tracey learned to respect every living thing. The trees, the animals that lived in them, and even the land they grew on were respected as if they were his brothers and sisters. Years before he heard the word ecology he had learned to look at the full cycle of nature. He knew the Navahos built hogans (wooden framed mounds covered with dirt) because they didn’t want to add to nor detract from the landscape. They just wanted to fit in and be a part of the land.
“At first,” he said, “Navahos didn’t even want windows in the hogans because when you look at one from a distance it should blend right in to the landscape. When a hogan has a window, it causes reflections that look unnatural and it draws attention to itself, and this isn’t pleasing to a Navaho.”
Tracey also explained that many young Indians are taught to run and exercise because they believe if your body is physically fit then your mind works better and there will be no room for dark thunderclouds in it. These kinds of teachings are also part of the gospel and he hopes to be able to give them to his children.
“When my son is out in nature and he notices something beautiful, I want him to feel like I do about it. He will stop and look and appreciate and give thanks, and he’ll know it couldn’t have happened by chance. And wherever he walks, he will leave beauty behind him and see beauty before him.”
At the end of the film, Tracey, after traveling coast to coast, talking and probing his identity with other Indians, finally comes home. By this time his grandfather has died, and so he goes to the grave and reports.
“Grandfather, I’ve done what you wanted me to do. I’ve been to the white man’s school. I got my education, and yet I’ve never forgotten that I am an Indian with a heritage that I am proud of. I met a boxer who is an Indian. I met a journalist who is an Indian. I’ve met politicians who are Indians. I met all kinds of people who are Indians, and now I know what it is to be an Indian. Grandfather, what I want to be is myself. To be me. To be whatever I want to be. I want to take what you have planted in my heart and give it to someone else. I want to take my education and give it back to my people.”
Tracey lived these moments for the cameras. Yet to him it was more than acting because he had made the same discoveries once before.
“A time came,” he said, “when I didn’t think of myself as an Indian and my foster family as being white. We were all treated the same, and I just thought of myself as me. This was reinforced as my testimony became stronger. I began to realize that part of being me meant that I was also a son of God. I knew the Church was true during my first year of college. At the same time I wanted to go on a mission. I was really integrated. I was an Indian with a different cultural background, and I knew the technology of the white man. But I had also learned to communicate with my Father in heaven. I knew he loved me. He helped me discover that I am a son of God, and that is my true culture as it should be for all Latter-day Saints.
“It was easier then to say, ‘These white-man teachings fit here, those Indian teachings fit there.’ And I understood what I should throw away in both cultures because the gospel became the real living force in my life. It brought the two pads of my past together and gave my life true meaning.”
Since he finished Indian, Tracey has starred in another motion picture called Joe Panther, which tells the story of a young Seminole Indian seeking his place in modern society.
Although his acting career is just starting, Tracey is already receiving praise for his ability. He is also drawing attention to his way of life. Wherever he has worked, he has influenced other members of the casts and crews. On one occasion a cast member told him, “Everybody on this set is searching for what you already have.” A cast member of Joe Panther wouldn’t even drink coffee when Tracey was on the set. “I’ve taken up drinking orange juice because that is what you drink,” he said.
Ray Tracey and Caroline Wuneka, from Crystal, New Mexico, were married in the Salt Lake Temple just before filming began on Joe Panther. Since this film was shot in the Everglades, they enjoyed a nice Florida honeymoon.
Tracey hopes to do more acting in movies. However, he stressed, “I’m not going to do any movie that will discredit my race or my church, or in any way make people ashamed of me.” Tracey hopes he can be an example for other young people. He is working to accomplish the tasks spelled out for him in his patriarchal blessing.
“I hope to be an instrument in the hands of the Lord to bring the gospel to many of my people. I hope I can be worthy to do this, and right now it seems that part of the answer lies with the media. That is one way I can reach many of them,” he said.
Like the characters in his films, Tracey displays courage, perseverance, and sensitivity. He knows that life gives you an opportunity to overcome difficulties, and that by doing this you get stronger. Most of all, he knows that the gospel gives direction and meaning to everyone who will embrace it.