Gospel Story Finder

In very beautiful paper, I wrapped a Bible; a copy of the Book of Mormon; the pamphlets “Why Families,” “What of the Mormons,” and “The Prophet Joseph Smith’s Testimony”; plus a card showing where we have the local branches of our church here in Ibadan. I gave it as a Christmas present to the principal investigating officer in the general post office here.
I felt good giving this gift because this man was very kind and I felt he deserved to come to a knowledge of the truthfulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I can say that my Christmas gift affected not only him but his entire family because of the card his wife sent me which included his handwritten note saying, “Your wonderful Christmas gift has been received. I am appreciative of your very kind gesture. Thank you.”
—Amuzie NwachukwuIbadan, Nigeria

This was graphically brought to my mind through an experience of my 16-year-old niece. Teriann was going through a stage. She hated Sunday School. She said her teacher was deadly dull. She didn’t like seminary. Sacrament meeting was boring, and she couldn’t stand family home evening because she had two brothers who were several years younger and had interests different than hers.
Teriann became really obnoxious. She was totally disruptive on Monday nights and it just kept getting worse. Teriann said, “Why can’t I just stop going to Church things? I’m not getting anything out of them anyway.”
After considerable discussion, her parents finally agreed that Teriann could stay home from her meetings for a certain trial period. Her father and mother felt that perhaps the release of the pressure of having to go would give her a chance to reflect on the real blessings of the gospel. One Sunday came and went, the most peaceful Sunday they had had for weeks. Monday night Teriann studied while the family met.
By Tuesday, however, while her father was praying about this problem, he had a distinct witness of the Spirit. Although he didn’t know what the solution should be, he knew that what he was doing was not the answer. Teriann’s father discussed these deep-seated feelings with his wife, who respected them. They decided to tell Teriann.
Teriann felt betrayed and wronged. She said, “You made an agreement and already you’re changing your mind—it hasn’t even been a week yet. How can you do this to me?”
What do you think her parents could say to her? A very wise mother said, “Teriann, the Lord must love you very much in order to not let us go even one week in the wrong direction.” This impressed her. She became quiet and her defensiveness was gone.
Then her dad said, “I don’t know the direction we should go. I only know that what we are doing is wrong. If we will fast and pray about this, then we will know what to do.” Teriann joined her parents in a special fast.
They were then able to discuss the situation realistically, and her parents made an agreement that Teriann could leave sacrament meeting after the sacrament had been passed, if the speaker was boring. Teriann only left sacrament meeting once after that. She found out she really didn’t hate seminary, and a change in the format of family home evening took care of Monday evenings.
This experience helped Teriann appreciate the real blessing of the gospel, and to know that the Lord loved her as an individual. A knowledge of God’s love for us is a blessing far above the benefits of the world’s royalty. Know that the Lord loves you too, very much.

On another occasion we were at the visitors’ center on Temple Square with these same grandchildren. Two-year-old Ashley was tired and wanted to leave. Sister Mask asked her if she wanted to see a big Jesus like the one on our wall. She asked, “Is He as big as me?” “Even bigger,” Sister Mask replied. When that tiny, little girl looked up at the majestic Christus, she ran and stood at the feet and gazed up reverently for several minutes. When her father indicated it was time to go, she said, “No, no, Daddy. He loves me and wants to give me hugs!”

When 33-year-old Joseph Fielding Smith entered the Salt Lake Tabernacle on April 6, 1910, to attend general conference, an usher said to him, “Well Joseph, who is the new apostle to be?”
“I don’t know,” replied Joseph. “But it won’t be you and it won’t be me!”1
As the names of the Twelve Apostles were being read for a sustaining vote, Joseph suddenly received an impression that his name might be the next one mentioned. It was, and he was then sustained as the 12th man in that esteemed quorum.
Joseph’s humility and sense of humor were demonstrated when he returned home from the conference to inform his family of his new calling. He greeted his wife with a puzzling statement: “I guess we’ll have to sell the cow,” he said. Undoubtedly, she was surprised as she waited for further explanation. His simple response was, “I haven’t time to take care of it any more!”2 Thus commenced an apostolic ministry that lasted over six decades.

The Primary children in the Willow Creek First Ward, Sandy Utah Willow Creek Stake, learned about the pioneers when they performed in a play for their ward. They acted out scenes from the building of the Kirtland, Nauvoo, and Salt Lake Temples, and some things that happened in between. It took them all summer to plan and to learn their parts, but on the night of the big pageant, they were ready.
Before the curtain opened, two children dressed as Joseph Smith and Brigham Young stood onstage and talked about building the Kirtland Temple. “The Lord has made it perfectly clear,” Joseph said to the audience. “He has commanded us to build a temple here in Kirtland.”
These early Church members donated their time, talents, and money to follow the Lord’s commandments. “I think they had to sacrifice a lot to build the temple,” says Kyle Esplin, 9, one of the narrators. “I’m paying my tithing now to help build up the Church.” When Kyle pays his tithing, he tries to remember the sacrifices the pioneers made.
The Latter-day Saints lived in Kirtland, Ohio, for eight years before they were forced to leave. They moved soon after they completed and dedicated the Kirtland Temple. When they arrived in Nauvoo, Illinois, they started to build another house of the Lord. Nauvoo became a large, prosperous city, and the people were happy there for some time. But soon they began to be persecuted, so the Nauvoo leaders formed a band of young men called the “whistling and whittling brigade.” The young men in the brigade looked for any suspicious-looking strangers and followed them, whittling sticks and whistling.
Jesse Fackrell, 10, one of the narrators, enjoyed watching the brigade on stage. “I thought it was neat that the boys went around and watched for troublemakers and protected the people,” he says.
Another sacrifice the early Church members in Nauvoo made was donating pennies to the temple fund. “I think they really felt good about giving something up for something else really important. It might have only been a little, but they felt thankful to be able to give their money,” says Mary Garbett, 10. One of Mary’s parts was being a harvester in the fields. In her role, she sold the vegetables she gathered so she could have money to donate to the temple.
Mary and other children in the ward also went to their stake center for the dedication of the new Nauvoo Temple in June 2002. Seeing the dedication helped the children better understand the sacrifices made by the pioneers for the original Nauvoo Temple.
After working hard to build the Nauvoo Temple, the people had to leave it behind after the Prophet Joseph was killed. Mobs forced many of them out of Nauvoo in the dead of winter. Brigham Young led them to a new home in the West.
Though life was very hard for the pioneers, and they really did walk and walk, they also managed to dance and sing during their trek west. The children in the play performed a quilt dance and had a hoedown with real fiddlers to show the audience that the journey was joyful at times. Many of the pioneer children had great adventures on their way to the Salt Lake Valley. They saw buffalo and mountains, and they preferred to walk a lot of the time because riding in the wagon was so bumpy.
Jeffrey Yee, 11, and his younger brother Ryan, 6, performed the parts of James and Joseph Kirkwood. James was one of the young heroes of the pioneer trek. He, his mother, and his three brothers had come from Scotland, and they set out together to cross the plains with their handcart. James took care of his four-year-old brother, Joseph. When Joseph was too tired to walk any farther on Rocky Ridge, James carried him. When they finally got to the camp, James set his little brother down safely by the campfire. James died beside the fire from the cold and exhaustion.
“I think that he was very responsible and brave. His little brother must have been grateful for a brother to look up to,” Jeff says about his character. “Because he was kind to his little brother, he helps me know it’s not nice to make fun of my little brother. He usually needs help because he is so young, so I try to help him.”
Though getting there was difficult, the Saints finally made it to the Salt Lake Valley, where Brigham Young dug his cane into the soil and said, “Here we will build the temple of our God.”
Davis Esplin, 11, learned a lot from performing the part of Brother Brigham. “I have a new respect for Brigham Young because I didn’t know how hard it was to build the temple.”
After dedicating the cornerstone, it took 40 years to complete the Salt Lake Temple. By that time, Wilford Woodruff had become President of the Church. He dedicated the temple on 6 April 1893. There was even a special dedication session for children under eight so that more Primary children could attend.
The Saints spent years building each of the three temples, suffering setbacks along the way. But they never gave up. Why did they do it? Zach Fackrell, 12, says it was because “they had faith and they knew it was important to get it done so they could do what the Lord wanted them to do.” Zach’s brother Jed, 10, says the temple is really important to him because “that’s where you can do baptisms for the dead, and that’s where you can get married so you can live with Heavenly Father again.”
Some children long ago had the right idea. After the Salt Lake Temple was completed, two boys brought their younger brothers to the temple so they could touch the walls. “We want them to know how great the temple is,” one of the older brothers says in the play.
“Yes,” the other boy says, “so they’ll want to go inside when they get big!”
Those children knew the importance of building temples, even though it required so much. They knew that just as they could touch the temple, the Spirit inside the temple could touch them, too. That was why they walked, and walked, and walked. …

In the ten years prior to my being called to the Presiding Bishopric, I had the blessing and privilege of helping to identify and acquire sites for temples.

A few years ago President Thomas S. Monson announced that there would be a ­temple in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, so we went to work researching possible sites where that temple could be built. Two sites ultimately emerged—and it just so happened that they were across the street from each other.

With the approval of the First Presidency, and after doing some preliminary due diligence, we began the process of acquiring the properties. To my great surprise, the owner of the first site accepted our offer without negotiation. I can’t tell you how remarkable this was!

It has been my experience that when a property owner discovers that the interested party is the Church, the price often goes up. To put this in perspective, the owner of the second property across the street responded with a price that was more than four times the price we offered.

When I met with the owner of the first property, he explained that he had owned the property for almost twenty-five years and could have developed it several times. But he had always felt that the property had a “higher and better purpose.” When we offered to buy it, he said it felt right.

However, you probably already know that when it comes to building the kingdom of God—and especially when it comes to building temples—things often don’t go as smoothly as we would hope.

Shortly after we filed the paperwork, the city of Philadelphia, through a city-controlled agency, filed a legal claim that stopped the transaction. They wanted to take title to the property themselves. This was a very serious matter. We did everything we could to meet with the agency and remove the claim. We were unsuccessful. This was a real problem and was very discouraging. We had felt so good about the property. We believed that this was the place where the Lord wanted His temple to be built.

As a final step we took our appeal of last resort to the mayor. He was the only one with the authority to change the situation.

With a heavy heart I flew to Philadelphia with the Church temple architect. There we were joined by an Area Seventy and two local Church members. One of these members was someone you may have heard of. He, too, attended this university. In fact, he played on the BYU football team and eventually ended up playing professional football for the Philadelphia Eagles.

Vai Sikahema is a well-known local ­celebrity in Philadelphia. He had completed a successful career playing football and afterward became a sports announcer on a local tele­vision station.

Before the meeting with the mayor, our little group of five met together and talked about the purpose for the meeting. Then we knelt in prayer. We knew that we would desperately need the Lord’s blessing that day.

At the meeting, the mayor, a city council member, and some of the mayor’s staff were in attendance. After introductions, my heart sank as I realized the atmosphere in the room was more than a little cold. It appeared evident that the decision had already been made, that the hearts of the city officials had been set against our building a temple there, and that this meeting was little more than a formality.

As we started to explain the project, the mayor explained that his staff had assured him this property was better suited for commercial purposes—an office building or a hotel would not only benefit the city with jobs but would provide needed tax revenue. We would need to look for another site.

I know that the five members of the Church in that room were pleading in our hearts for heavenly help. What could we say or do that would help change the mayor’s heart and mind?

I asked the mayor if the architect could show a simple drawing or two of how the temple might look. He looked at his watch—a sign that he wanted the meeting to end—and said, “Okay.”

But before the architect could begin, Brother Sikahema asked the mayor if he could say something.

The mayor was acquainted with Brother Sikahema and said, “Of course.”

Vai paused for a moment and then stood. In a humble voice he went on to say something like this:

“Mr. Mayor, many years ago when I was a young boy in Tonga, my father and mother and my brothers and sisters sold our home, we sold fruits and vegetables, and we sold everything we could to have enough money to travel to Hamilton, New Zealand, to be sealed as an eternal family in the temple. You need this temple. This temple will bless your city. This temple will bless your community. It will bless the people.”

Then he sat down. We were all very quiet.

After a moment the Church architect stood and showed the mayor a few drawings of what a temple might look like. It was clear that in those few minutes something had changed. In reality, everything had changed.

As the architect sat down, the nonmember city councilman asked to speak. He stood and said, “Mr. Mayor, I have spoken with the leaders in the community and neighbors of this property. We want this temple. We need this temple. It will bless our city. It will bless our community. It will bless the people.”

As he spoke, you could feel the Spirit come into the meeting. It was a sacred moment. What was to have been a thirty-minute meeting lasted for the better part of an hour and a half. Oh, how different things were after that sublime moment!

To my surprise, at the end of this public meeting the mayor turned and asked if I would offer a prayer in that setting. His heart had changed. The temple would go forward. It would be built on the selected site.

Thirty years ago, I had an experience with how priesthood authority in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints differs from other kinds of authority. The wife of a prominent Protestant minister came to my office. For many years she and her husband had served the Lord with great diligence in a Christian ministry. Now she wanted to join the restored Church, but she had a reservation.
She came to ask me why she had to be baptized when she had already been baptized a Christian by her minister husband, who had baptized many people in his congregation. She asked, “Are you telling me that my husband didn’t have any authority to baptize all those people he baptized?”
The Spirit came to my aid, as we pray for in these situations.
“No, I am sure your husband had authority for those baptisms,” I replied. “He had all the authority his church, his congregation, and the laws of the land could give him. He used that authority in baptizing, performing marriages, employing persons for the physical needs of his church building, and appointing persons to participate in its worship services. We don’t question that authority, but we want you to know of a different kind of authority: the power God delegates to mortals.”
I explained that what causes us to require baptism for persons converted to the restored Church of Jesus Christ is the need for baptism by the divine authority Jesus gave to Peter and the other Apostles. With that authority, He told them whatsoever they bound on earth would be bound in heaven (see Matthew 16:19; 18:18). In other words, it would be valid and effective beyond the veil of death to satisfy the requirements of heaven. I testified to her that this authority has been restored and now exists only in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Sometime later, both this woman and her husband were baptized. I have known them for many years as faithful members.

My wife and I have tried to teach the values of work and service to our children. All seven sons—one was a foster child who came to live with us when he was a teenager—and our daughter worked at my lumber company as they were growing up. And one of the Christmas traditions that we started many years ago is still carried out each year by the entire family, including grandchildren: On the Monday before each Christmas, we take homebaked gifts and visit old friends and the widows in the neighborhood where I grew up.

At one time, Ben, Jr., and Brad, my two oldest boys, belonged to a Japanese Scout troop because our ward didn’t have a Scout troop. One day the Scoutmaster took the boys on a hike in the Zion Narrows in southern Utah. Their progress was slower than anticipated. Concerned that the park officials whom they had checked in with would be worried about them, the Scoutmaster asked my sons and a couple of other boys to hike ahead by themselves and let the park officials know that everyone was OK. The boys took a wrong turn into a dead-end canyon and didn’t know what to do. The other boys were not Latter-day Saints, but they turned to Ben and said, “Maybe you’re the one who ought to pray for us to help us get out of here.” After he offered a prayer, Ben said, “Let’s go,” and they turned and walked out without any problem. How grateful I was that my children had learned to pray, that they had faith in that prayer, and that our Father in Heaven would help them find their way safely out of the canyon.

My message to children is: Follow the counsel of your parents, and know how much they love you. Know the value of having good friends. Choose good friends with the same high standards and values that you have.

Elisa walked into Primary and sat by her friend Armando.
“Welcome!” Sister Russo said. “Let’s start with a song.”
Elisa sang with her class. “Faith is like a little seed: if planted, it will grow” (Children’s Songbook, 96).
Sister Russo passed out paper and crayons. “Think about what we sang,” she said. “When you plant your seed of faith, it grows into a testimony. Now draw what your testimony would look like if it were a plant.”
Elisa stared at her blank paper. She didn’t know what to draw. She peeked at the plant Armando was drawing. It had a straight stem with lots of leaves. It looked like the basil growing on her apartment balcony. Maybe that was what a testimony was supposed to look like! She used her crayon to draw one like his.
“Please open your scriptures to Alma 32,” Sister Russo said.
They read about planting a seed in your heart and feeling it grow. Elisa looked at her drawing and frowned. Did she have a testimony? What did that even mean? She wanted to ask, but she felt too shy.
When class ended, Elisa didn’t get up right away.
“Is everything OK?” Sister Russo asked.
Elisa glanced down at her drawing again. “I’m not sure I have a testimony. I don’t really know what that means.”
Sister Russo gave Elisa a kind smile. “That’s OK. Do you remember what faith is?”
Elisa nodded. “Believing in something we can’t see?”
“That’s right!” Sister Russo said. “What are some things you believe in?”
That was an easy question. “I believe in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I believe They love me.”
Sister Russo smiled. “You just shared your testimony! A testimony is what you have faith in.”
Elisa thought about it. “So I already have a testimony?”
“Yes!” Sister Russo held up her scriptures. “And remember what we read today? You nourish the seed by doing things like coming to church. Then your testimony will grow stronger.”
Elisa felt like she understood. “So that’s why we drew our testimonies as plants?”
“Exactly. Because plants grow little by little,” Sister Russo said. “Testimonies are the same way. They usually don’t come all at once. They grow a little at a time.”
Elisa felt better about her drawing. When she got home, she wrote “My Testimony Plant” above her picture. She hung it up by her bed. She knew her testimony was already growing. And she wanted to keep following Jesus so it could grow even bigger!

Even worthwhile endeavors need evaluation in order to determine if they have become distractions from the best goals. I had a memorable discussion with my father when I was a teenager. He did not believe enough young people were focused on or preparing for long-term important goals—like employment and providing for families.
Meaningful study and preparatory work experience were always at the top of my father’s recommended priorities. He appreciated that extracurricular activities like debate and student government might have a direct connection with some of my important goals. He was less certain about the extensive time I spent participating in football, basketball, baseball, and track. He acknowledged that athletics could build strength, endurance, and teamwork but asserted that perhaps concentrating on one sport for a shorter time would be better. In his view, sports were good but not the best for me. He was concerned that some sports were about building local celebrity or fame at the expense of more important long-term goals.
Given this history, one of the reasons I like the account of Lucy playing baseball is that, in my father’s view, I should have been studying foreign policy and not worrying about whether I was going to catch a ball. I should make it clear that my mother loved sports. It would have taken a hospitalization for her to miss one of my games.
I had decided to follow my dad’s advice and not play intercollegiate sports in college. Then our high school football coach informed me that the Stanford football coach wanted to have lunch with Merlin Olsen and me. Those of you who are younger may not know Merlin. He was an incredible all-American tackle on the Logan High School football team where I played quarterback and safety and returned kickoffs and punts. In high school Merlin was recruited by most football powers across the nation. In college he won the Outland Trophy as the nation’s best interior lineman. Merlin was ultimately the third overall pick in the National Football League draft and played in an amazing 14 consecutive Pro Bowls. He was inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 1982.20
The lunch with the Stanford coach was at the Bluebird restaurant in Logan, Utah. After we shook hands, he never once made eye contact with me. He talked directly to Merlin but ignored me. At the end of the lunch, for the first time, he turned toward me, but he could not remember my name. He then informed Merlin, “If you choose Stanford and want to bring your friend with you, he has good enough grades and it could probably be arranged.” This experience confirmed for me that I should follow my dad’s wise counsel.

When Mamie was 14, a little sister was born at the ranch. Her father, by now stake president, had gone to general conference in Salt Lake City. Before leaving, however, he had brought from Kanab a midwife, Macey Stewart, who promised she would stay till his return, or at least till the mother was able to be up and around. “When the baby was a week old,” wrote Mamie, the midwife got homesick and “regardless of her promise to Father that she would stay, she left Mother in bed with me to care for her and the baby, besides all the housework, washing, etc., for the family and hired men. Talk about responsibility for a 14-year-old!” she concluded.

As I walked along the trail, prairie grass rippled in the breeze like gentle ocean waves. My cow turned aside to eat some grass that was dry and brown from the heat. “Get back here!” I called. “We can find you better grass than that.”
Although the wind was cool and pleasant, I was hot from carrying my four-year-old brother, James. He had the measles, and Mother, who was not feeling well, had tied him onto my back with her shawl. I could feel hard knots of muscle forming in the sore spots on my back, but I had no choice but to keep moving. The wagon train would pass us by if we stopped.
Our family cow started to wander off again, and I ran after her. Making sure she got enough to eat was an endless process. But we needed the milk, and I was determined to make it to Zion safe and sound even if I had to herd a cow and carry my little brother the whole way.
That night in camp I milked the cow and laid James down to sleep. I doubted that he would, but I was determined to get as much rest as I could before his sickly cries woke me. Unfortunately, I was nudged before I even had a chance to drift off to sleep. Father, still wearing his dusty trail clothes, was standing there with a concerned look on his face.
“Margaret, did you tie the cow to the wagon?” he asked.
Our cow was nowhere to be seen, and I soon found myself back on the prairie. We started out looking near camp, but there was no trace of her. I left the search group and walked over a small hill near the river. The air was full of the chirping of crickets and the rustle of wind in the grass. I was barefooted, but the evening was warm and the prairie dirt was hard and dry, so I didn’t mind.
Suddenly the ground turned soft beneath my feet—and moved! I froze, working up the courage to look down. When I did, I wished I hadn’t. I was standing in a bed of snakes! They slithered all about my feet, their scales glinting in the rising moon. I grew weak at the knees and almost fainted into the writhing mass, but I forced myself to stiffen. What should I do?
I decided to say a prayer. It was short, but definitely sincere. Immediately after saying “amen,” I jumped sideways. Heavenly Father must have blessed my leap, because I landed just clear of the snakes. I ran off a ways and collapsed.
I had barely caught my breath when I heard my father. “Margaret!” he called. I ran to the sound of his voice and threw my arms around him. “Are you all right?” he asked.
I smiled up at him, but I didn’t let go. “I’m fine now,” I said. I told him my story as he took me back to the wagons. I was so grateful to be safe that when I saw our cow I gave her a kiss on her disobedient nose.
We arrived safely in Utah on October 4, 1859, thanks to Heavenly Father’s watchful care. And, as always, the cow was by my side.

One young couple acknowledged that they should go to the temple, but they weren’t yet willing to attend the temple preparation seminars. They did allow their home teachers to come by weekly to teach them, however. Now the young man says, “I wasn’t rebellious. But I didn’t quite understand the gospel.” At one point he commented to his home teachers: “I know you have families and are busy. We appreciate your coming. We need your teaching.”

A common thread runs through these successes, as well as the hundreds (perhaps thousands) of others that could be shared. The basic idea is that we don’t teach the family everything we’d like them to hear; rather, we start by teaching them what they’re ready and able to hear.

The distinction is a critical one. If we teach beyond a family’s capacity to hear and accept, we might well create a negative situation. The family may become defensive, tune us out, or ask us to stop teaching. The message doesn’t get through, the Spirit has no opportunity to testify to the hearts of the people, and the opportunity is lost.

Two acclaimed British composers whose recent composition reached Classic FM’s top five selections have been commissioned to write the finale for the highly anticipated ‘Lamb of God’ concert at Manchester’s renowned Bridgewater Hall. The collaboration brings together Sam Petchey, from the Staines Stake, a distinguished military musician whose service included performing at Buckingham Palace, and Abby Twigger, from the Aberdeen Stake, a talented composer and vocalist, whose combined artistic vision will culminate in a powerful new piece titled ‘Awake My Soul’ for the 100-person choir and full orchestra.
The composers’ previous work, ‘The Lamb’, garnered national recognition when it was selected as one of five winners in the Making Music Classic FM carol competition and aired on Classic FM in December 2023. The carol also reached the semi-final of the UK Songwriting Contest and was shortlisted in the Sir David Willcocks Carol Composer Competition, demonstrating the duo’s exceptional musical talent.
Their collaboration came about after Abby started writing music again, following the birth of their fifth child, when she heard about Sam’s professional musical experience from a fellow member in his ward. Sam helped Abby record the songs she had written and they worked together on other compositions, even from opposite ends of the United Kingdom. They have since released a full CD of original Christmas songs, which has also been printed as sheet music for others to use.
In 2024 they were commissioned to arrange ‘The Lamb’ again – this time for a big charity fundraiser, featuring NHS Grampian Hospitals’ Choir, a string orchestra and brass quintet, for performance on 15th December at Music Hall Aberdeen. That same month the solo voice and piano recording of the carol was included on UCB 2, United Christian Broadcaster’s playlist and was played throughout the month.
"For me, music is a fast track to the spirit," shares Sister Twigger, whose background includes music studies at Brigham Young University and performances at Magdalene College, University of Cambridge. Abby is married to Ben, they have 5 children, and she is currently serving as stake Young Women president in the Aberdeen Stake. Her collaboration with Brother Petchey, who brings extensive experience from the Royal Corps of Army Music and the Royal Northern College of Music, has already produced numerous successful sacred works, including a cantata celebrating women of faith. Sam is married to Vicky, they have 4 children and he loves writing sacred music.
The performances of ‘Lamb of God’ at Bridgewater Hall, Manchester showcased their newest composition alongside other sacred music, continuing their commitment to creating uplifting, spiritually enriching musical experiences for audiences across the United Kingdom.

There are some who have difficulty forgiving themselves and who dwell on all of their perceived shortcomings. I quite like the account of a religious leader who went to the side of a woman who lay dying, attempting to comfort her—but to no avail. “I am lost,” she said. “I’ve ruined my life and every life around me. There is no hope for me.”

The man noticed a framed picture of a lovely girl on the dresser. “Who is this?” he asked.

The woman brightened. “She is my daughter, the one beautiful thing in my life.”

“And would you help her if she were in trouble or had made a mistake? Would you forgive her? Would you still love her?”

“Of course I would!” cried the woman. “I would do anything for her. Why do you ask such a question?”

“Because I want you to know,” said the man, “that figuratively speaking, Heavenly Father has a picture of you on His dresser. He loves you and will help you. Call upon Him.”

A hidden wedge to her happiness had been removed.

Joseph Smith was a valiant servant of the Lord Jesus Christ. He was brave and courageous in standing for right. One time, the Prophet Joseph and several other brethren were taken from their families and put in jail. They were chained together and had to sleep on the cold prison floor.

During one of the long, cold nights of their imprisonment, Joseph and his friends were unable to sleep. For hours the guards had been boasting loudly about the horrible things they had done to Latter-day Saints. They bragged about robbing, shooting, and killing men, women, and even little children.

Suddenly Joseph, unarmed and in chains, stood up and spoke in a voice like thunder: “SILENCE, ye fiends [devils] of the infernal pit. In the name of Jesus Christ I rebuke you, and command you to be still; I will not live another minute and bear such language. Cease [stop] such talk, or you or I die THIS INSTANT!” (Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt [1938], 180).

The guards shook, and some dropped their weapons. Some of the guards begged Joseph’s pardon. All of them remained quiet until a change of guards.

A few years ago I decided to get in shape. I had never exercised much, and I was a lot softer and flabbier than I wanted to be. Fortunately, as a college student, I had free access to the university’s P.E. facilities—weight room, indoor track, whatever I needed.
As luck would have it, someone in my ward was already lifting, and his partner was moving away. So I became his new partner, and we started the program with enthusiasm.
The benefits of having a partner soon became apparent. For one thing, it was nice to have someone to talk to while I was working out. For another thing, I felt more committed to keeping a regular schedule because I knew someone would be counting on me to show up.
But the most important reason came up later, when we were bench pressing.
With most weight exercises, if your strength gives out while you’re in the middle of a set, you can simply drop the weights, or let go of the machinery. With bench pressing, you lie down and push weight above you. If you can’t hold it any more, you can’t just let go, because the bar would fall on your chest and possibly do serious damage. You have to push it up all the way—just one more time—and let it rest on the supports.
That’s why having a partner is so important. If your strength fails you when you’re bench pressing, you say, “Help!” Your partner, who is standing behind you watching, is on the alert and can pull up the bar as you’re pushing it, keeping you from hurting yourself. He can do it because he isn’t tired from lifting, and because standing up, he’s in a better position to hold the weight than you are.
An unspoken rule is that the partner doesn’t interfere until you say so. Sometimes it may look like you’re struggling, but the partner won’t reach in and start pulling up the bar until you ask him to.
One day my partner had to cancel our lifting appointment. He had worked the graveyard shift the night before and was too tired to work out, but he encouraged me to go by myself, which I did. I handled the other exercises just fine, since they don’t require a partner. And then I tried bench pressing.
I knew I shouldn’t try it without a partner. I knew that by the end of my third set, exhaustion would set in and I would need help on my last repetition. Sometimes just knowing my partner was there made me brave enough to try a few more repetitions than I normally would—because I knew if I got in trouble, he could help. Now, without him there, I figured I could do it, since I didn’t push myself too hard. I thought if I just did two sets, instead of three, I could probably handle it on my own.
I was wrong, of course. By the time I was halfway into my second set, my muscles were starting to give out. And yet I didn’t stop. I wanted to push it for just two more repetitions. On the second one, my arms came down, the weight now resting just above my chest—but my arms wouldn’t go up again! My strength was gone. I couldn’t do any more. I pushed and strained and wiggled around on the bench, but my arms were absolutely finished. I could do no more. This was the time I would normally say, “Help!” and my partner would pull the weight off me. But I had no partner. I had gone into it alone, and I was stuck.
Fortunately, a kind soul happened to walk by and saw my predicament, and he helped me out. I was embarrassed, but at least I wasn’t hurt. As I looked back on the incident, I realized how it ties in with the gospel. When we accept the gospel and are baptized, we become partners with Jesus Christ. Having Him with us motivates us to do good, just as having a lifting partner helped me stay on schedule with my workouts. And while we’re “working out”—going through life, trying to endure to the end—it’s good to have a friend there with us.

Although I had not found what I was looking for, we took the time to visit all the places my mother talked about. I was able to get a feel for what life must have been like in the early days of the twentieth century living in a sugar cane industry town. This gave me renewed faith in continuing my search for more information.

As I continued to search further back through my grandparents’ lines, I found many wonderful treasures. I found that my family line in Puerto Rico dates to early explorers in the Caribbean. Some had served as governors in the Dominican Republic. Some were sea captains, farmers, and businessmen. Some were maids, seamstresses, and some of nobility. I was able to do the temple work for many there in the Santo Domingo Dominican Republic Temple where we volunteered as ordinance workers once a week. I was beginning to feel a closeness to my ancestors that I thought I would never experience. My excitement and joy in the work I was doing carried me through times of disappointments. I knew that if I kept looking, I would be able to find many more, and I did.

For some, faith is not understood and consequently not used to full advantage. Some feel that any discussion of religion and the guidance one can receive through robust faith have no rational basis. However, faith is not illusion nor magic but a power rooted in eternal principles. Are you one who has tried to exercise faith and has felt no benefit? If so, you likely have not understood and followed the principles upon which faith is founded. An example will illustrate what I mean.
Years ago I participated in the measurement of the nuclear characteristics of different materials. The process used an experimental nuclear reactor designed so that high-energy particles streamed from a hole in the center of the reactor. These particles were directed into an experimental chamber where measurements were made. The high-energy particles could not be seen, but they had to be carefully controlled to avoid harm to others. One day a janitor entered while we were experimenting. In a spirit of disgust he said, “You are all liars, pretending that you are doing something important, but you can’t fool me. I know that if you can’t see, hear, taste, smell, or touch something, it doesn’t exist.” That attitude ruled out the possibility of his learning that there is much of worth that can’t be identified by the five senses. Had that man been willing to open his mind to understand how the presence of nuclear particles is detected, he would have confirmed their existence. In like manner, never doubt the reality of faith. You will gather the fruits of faith as you follow the principles God has established for its use.

Paul Reid, Pacific Area manager of the Church’s Welfare and Self-Reliance Services, knew about SolarBuddy through a previous project.
“Randomly, one morning I woke up with the idea of having thousands of our Church youth and young adults light the world at Christmas with a gift for thousands of children around the Pacific who often do not have light to read or study after the sun goes down,” he said.
Carl Maurer, who worked with Mike Malouf in coordinating the effort, said, “This lighting the world will be a blessing to those in energy poverty locations in the Pacific, where not only the receiver is blessed, but the giver also.”
Tehina Avaeoru of French Polynesia shared one way she felt blessed as a volunteer assembler of SolarBuddy lights: “This activity was very uplifting because we were able to help others,” she said. “I really felt the Spirit (of God) and the love we can have for each other.”
Fellow volunteer Tamarua Richmond agreed. “To have done it with friends was even better. It was a great atmosphere. We all had our part to play and I’m glad we did it.”
Todd Miller from Hamilton, New Zealand, said, “Today has been a fantastic opportunity for young and old to do something for someone else this Christmas season. We hope these small lights will make a big difference.”
When Jiovilisi Seniceva heard about the SolarBuddy humanitarian project, he thought about the people in the outer islands of his homeland of Fiji. “Many don’t have light in their homes, and I hope this project can help,” he said.
Church Welfare and Self-Reliance employee Peniette Seru joined a group of Church members who visited a small village in Fiji’s south to deliver SolarBuddy lights to families.
She smiled as she recounted her experience distributing lights to young people who live in homes with no electricity. “One hundred and fifty other lights were donated to a children’s heart hospital (in Suva) to be given to children who come in from outer islands,” she said.
Not only did volunteers assemble lights, but they also wrote notes to each future recipient.
Australian volunteer Yvette Barnes wrote in a letter to a light recipient: “We hope that every time you use this light, you know this is made with love from me.”
Reflecting on her experience, she said, “For every person here, there’s a good vibe, good energy. We’re feeling the love.”
From this project that began as a “lightbulb idea,” thousands of children will see the world in a new light.
“We are inspired by Jesus Christ, the Light of the World, and His example of bringing light to those who sit in darkness,” Elder Wakolo said. “We hope our small gifts of love and light—made possible by the Australian charity, SolarBuddy, and by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—will brighten hearts, homes and futures.”