Gospel Story Finder

I was soon to leave for my military service. Nevertheless, my desire to be around the missionaries and members grew powerfully. As soon as I learned a new principle of the gospel, I put it into practice. Just before I left, one of the elders said, “You know, you live like a Mormon, but you’re trying to become perfect before you will join the Church. That’s the wrong way. It’s the Church that will help you achieve perfection.” They told me I had a testimony, but I still wasn’t sure.
In the military I had time to let my feelings grow and develop. There was lots of time to think, and I reflected deeply on my impressions of the Church. I was stationed with the mountain troops in Briancon, with no LDS branch nearby. But I guarded the things I had learned in my heart and let the seed of faith grow.
When I was released from the service, I faced a critical decision. My best friend from Normandy and I had planned for a long time to visit the United States, and I had saved my money so I could go. But his plans felt through. I had to decide whether or not to go by myself. I returned to Normandy, to walk the beaches and to think.
Anyone who could have eavesdropped on my mental conversation at that time would have known I already had a testimony. “I am well off here—I have my family and friends, I feel sure of myself, and this is the most beautiful spot on earth,” I told myself. “But what if I don’t go? I could miss an opportunity to learn even more about the gospel, to really gain a testimony of it. I could give up the trip, the dream of my young years. But to give up a chance to know more about the Lord’s church?”
In the U.S. I had the opportunity to develop many close relationships with Church members. I finally began to believe I did have a testimony—I can’t forget the wonderful feelings when, each time I’d ask myself a question, I would feel the Holy Ghost enlightening my soul, clearing away the doubt. I had had difficulty understanding why polygamy had been practiced. On a bus somewhere between Colorado and Utah, I glimpsed the vision, not a visual sight, but a spiritual insight, of the men who practiced it. And I saw how it was possible for such a thing to be pure, that it had come from God. That sort of clarification continued throughout my trip in the United States.
I eventually visited some islands near Seattle, Washington. There, in a small apartment, I studied the Book of Mormon for ten days. My testimony continued to grow. The time had come to return to France, and in my heart I knew I would be baptized.
Several days after I returned home, the missionaries asked me to help them teach a lesson. The investigator was a science student, and he was struggling with some of the same questions I had confronted when I was studying the same subjects. I explained to him how I had found answers to the questions, and when we left he seemed satisfied and happy.
A few days later, the missionaries called to tell me he was joining the Church. “How about that,” I told myself. “Here I am, able to help someone else accept baptism, and not myself. This has lasted long enough!” I felt I had a testimony, but I fasted and prayed. I stayed up the whole night pleading with the Lord to seal this testimony in me. Finally, early in the morning, a sweet, peaceful calm filled my soul. I knew I had to tell the elders I was ready to be baptized.
As I rounded the last corner on my way to see the missionaries, I felt a strong force trying to keep me from going. It was like walking against a 100-kilometer-per-hour wind, which I had done before, only it was stronger. But this was a spiritual “wind,” not physical. I was just about to give up and turn around. I knew this force wanted me to doubt everything, but I finally said, “No, no. I know there’s a God.” I felt that truth deep in the roots of my soul. I knew He would battle this force for me.
I reached the chapel door, just a normal chapel door, but I had to pull with all my might to force it open. When I entered I saw some members and felt their spirit, and the opposing force was gone, broken. I felt the sweet peace in my heart again, and felt it even more strongly several days later as I was baptized and confirmed. I still feel it to this day.

When Lexie’s grandmother visited the Humanitarian Center in Salt Lake City, Utah, last year, she learned about the poor conditions for newborn babies in many parts of the world. “Grandma told me that babies were being brought home wrapped in newspapers, and I just thought, ‘What can I do?’” Lexie explains.
She set a goal to make them baby quilts. First, her grandma taught her how to use the sewing machine. Then they purchased batting and flannel decorated with pastel flowers, checked patterns, and bright smiley faces for babies to snuggle up in.
Lexie made her first quilt for her mom. She also gave one to her seven-year-old sister, Lillyn. Lillyn helped Lexie by tying the quilts—using a needle to sew yarn in neat rows across the whole blanket. Then she snipped between the stitches and tied knots so little puffs of yarn would stick up from the fabric. Lillyn had one problem with her task. “Sometimes when I poke a needle through the blanket, I poke myself!” she exclaims.
Lillyn helped in other ways, too. She went with Lexie, their grandma, and a cousin to deliver the blankets to the Humanitarian Center. There Lexie dropped the quilts into a big gray bin filled with blankets and quilts donated by other people. The Humanitarian Center sends these donated items to people in more than 100 countries.
Was reaching her goal worth so much time and work? “Yes,” Lexie insists, nodding quickly. “I know that I’m helping someone, and I feel very good about that.”

Since childhood, Elder Carlos G. Revillo Jr. desired to serve a full-time mission. But in college, he decided to postpone his mission by a year to finish a five-year chemical engineering degree and pass national board certification exams. He landed in the top five in the board exams and received several good job offers from multinational companies.
“During that time, I had to ask myself, ‘Do I really want to serve a mission? Do I really know that Joseph Smith was a true prophet and that the Book of Mormon is true?’” Elder Revillo said. “I had to pray and really look at what I believed.”
Later he learned that his mother was praying and fasting for him. Elder Revillo said the Spirit touched his heart.
“My testimony was fully galvanized when I served a full-time mission,” he said. “All of the blessings that I have now I attribute to that critical decision.”

A few years ago, Alice E. Smith, of Yuba City, California, wrote of a faith-promoting experience in finding a record of her great-grandfather’s death. She and her husband were returning from their annual trip to visit their daughter who lived near Seattle, Washington. Although Sister Smith knew how much her husband disliked making stops during their return journey, she asked him if they could stop briefly at a cemetery to see if there were any record of her great-grandfather’s death. She was surprised and delighted when he readily agreed to the side trip in a little town along the Columbia River.
On a hunch they drove to the nearest of three cemeteries, parked in the middle of an older section, and started to search. Within ten minutes, their youngest daughter called, “Here’s a Bailey. I think this is the one!”
With a can of water and a rag from the car, her husband carefully began to scrub away the years’ accumulation of moss, revealing the name, dates in full, and a little inscription: Note the significance of the inscription: Here’s my heart, O take and seal it; Seal it for thy courts above. Surely it was heaven-sent help that had brought them to this message from her devout Methodist ancestor to the family today.
Another family member was able to identify the inscription, taken from the old hymn “Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing.”3 The divine message of that hymn will sing in the hearts of an expanding family forevermore. The word sealing will take on greater significance.

Brad introduced Jenna to the gospel when they were 17. He baptized her just a week after she turned 18. “My parents were present when I took the discussions and were not shy about asking questions,” Jenna says. “But they always thought that this was a fleeting thing with me.”

Brad and Jenna wrote to each other during Brad’s mission. When Brad returned from his mission and asked Jenna to marry him, “my parents realized that this was not a fleeting thing,” Jenna says. “For two years my parents knew they would not be able to see me be married, but it wasn’t until Brad and I began to plan and prepare that their hurt began to show. They felt left out. They felt as if they were being told that they weren’t good people because they weren’t members and didn’t have temple recommends. Brad and I had even considered having a civil marriage and then waiting a year to be sealed. However, I knew in my heart that I needed to stand up for what I believe in. We needed to be an example to my parents, our friends, and family.”

While Brad and Jenna were being sealed, one of the temple workers talked to Jenna’s parents about the temple. Jenna had planned one more thing: “I gave my parents each a card telling them how much I loved them and that I knew someday they would understand why I had made this decision.”

The day after their sealing, Brad and Jenna continued their wedding celebration. Back home in Wisconsin, they publicly exchanged rings and held a reception at the church. “My mom and father-in-law both gave talks,” Jenna says. “We tried to make my family feel as involved as possible.”

As Jenna looks back on her wedding, she remembers the tender feelings she shared with her parents. “I know more than anything that they were able to feel the Spirit in the temple waiting room and that Heavenly Father helped them to feel at peace and to know that the decision I was making was right.”

In reality, that kind of precision often requires mastery of some pretty complex technology on a modern bow. You start coming across terms like stabilizer, sight, clicker, and more. “My friends are sometimes shocked at all the gear,” says LaNola P., a 17-year-old from California with a true talent for archery. “It’s a lot harder than you would think.”
LaNola has been involved in archery since she was six years old, with her dad as her coach and shooting partner. Over the years she’s won competitions and set national archery records. Archery hasn’t been her only focus, however. She keeps the gospel at the heart of all she does, even when that means getting out of bed at 4:00 a.m. to attend 5:25 a.m. seminary. “The gospel allows me to keep things in perspective,” says LaNola. “I know my strength comes from Heavenly Father.”

The first two days of the open house were set aside for state and local civic leaders, clergy of other faiths, business and education leaders, as well as for the media and the press. Several hundred accepted the invitation. It was my privilege, along with others, to welcome and speak to these guests and answer their questions.
Early in the morning on the first day, ignoring the rain, these invited guests stood in line to enter a house of the Lord. They quietly and reverently walked through the temple, gazing in amazement at the architectural beauty and appointments fitting a house of the Lord. They came to see for themselves what they had heard and read about.
Rabbi Wayne Dosick wrote in the San Diego Jewish Times:
“The Temple is built … of earthly materials to construct a place that inspires heavenly awe. This Mormon Temple uses sweeping architecture to create a space that invokes the celestial heavens that is awesome.” He continued, “We thank them for reminding us how holy a place a mere building can be” (“Open House Update,” San Diego Jewish Times, 20 Mar. 1993).
Many moving accounts have come to our attention as a result of this open house; countless hearts have been touched. Over eight thousand individuals with special needs came in wheelchairs, bringing relatives or friends to assist them. One young son paused at the entrance to the temple to carefully clean and polish the wheelchair his father was in before entering the sacred interior of the temple. A devoted father lifted his frail fifteen-year-old daughter in his arms as he carried her from her wheelchair into the brides’ dressing room. She looked around and said, “Oh, this is so beautiful.” With a smile on her lips and with tears in her eyes, she gently laid her head on her father’s shoulder and said, “This is where I want to come to be married someday.” This young girl had come to the temple from the hospital, where she has spent most of the past five years, her wish to see the temple fulfilled.
Those who have attended the open house not only have been touched by its beauty, but notes and comments indicate that many have felt a deep reverence and profound emotional impact.

One day I witnessed evidence of the Spirit and the courage to follow counsel. It was in a second grade elementary classroom. The student-teacher held the children captive with her storytelling skills. In great detail she told of a cross old man whose name was Mr. Black. In contrast, the account was given in similar detail of a Mr. Brown who was kind and thoughtful and loved by everyone. At the conclusion of the story, the teacher asked the children, “How many of you would like to be a neighbor to Mr. Brown?” Every hand was raised high. Then almost as an afterthought, she inquired if there was anyone who would like to have Mr. Black for a neighbor.
A little boy in a faded green shirt near the back of the room began to raise his hand, which brought a ripple of quiet amusement from the children. Hesitating only briefly, he looked around at his friends and still mustered the courage to hold his hand high and to stand alone in his difference. When called on for an explanation to his single vote, he spoke in a soft tone. “Well,” he said, “I’d like Mr. Black to be my neighbor, because if he was, my mom would make a cake for me to take to him, and then he wouldn’t be that way anymore.” A hush fell over the room. Everyone felt something wonderful that they couldn’t explain. A little child broke the silence like a benediction: “Oh, I wish I’d said that!”
We had all made a quick decision about who would be the best neighbor, but only one, just one, had a spirit within, a discernment that allowed him to see what might be.

And finally, as a youth, my father counseled me to not have a serious girlfriend in high school. He counseled me to go on dates with different girls. At the time, I thought that that would make me a “player” or I saw it as a negative thing to date around. Now that I’m older and thanks to “For the Strength of Youth” pamphlet, I realize that there was wisdom in his counsel. However, I did my best to obey.
After high school and while dancing at the Polynesian Cultural Center, I fell in “like” with a girl. At Christmas, I bought and gave this girl a half-heart pendant with me keeping the other half. Unfortunately, like the song “Last Christmas”, I gave her my heart and the very next day, she gave it away.
My heart was broken...like the pendant….it was a dark day. I thought that being obedient to my dad was supposed to bring me blessings...not heartache. Gratefully, my now sister-in-love, Sina, shared my heartache with her younger sister and she replied to Sina, “tell him if it makes him feel better, I’ll go out with him”.
The next day, Sina introduced us and on March 26, 1989 we sealed our friendship with a kiss on the temple steps exactly 3 years later to the date, we sealed our love for ETERNITY...and as they say, the rest is history!

In preparation for this talk, I was thinking about this universal feeling of love, and what happens within us when we have the opportunity to experience it and how life changing it can become. I thought of September 11, 2001. That is one of those days that will definitely go down in infamy. We were united as a nation on that day. I think most of us can probably remember where we were at that time. Hearts all over the world turned with compassion toward the people affected by this tragedy. I was teaching on the BYU Provo campus on that day. It was the beginning of the school year, and it was a Tuesday. I remember that because I had been asked by President Merrill Bateman to sing as a part of his devotional address. I had tried hard to follow inspiration as to what I would sing that day. For reasons I didn't understand, I felt impressed to sing a setting of the hymn, "O Love That Glorifies the Son" .

As it turned out they cancelled the devotional that day, but rescheduled it for the next week. I couldn't have known how appropriate that text would be. Over the period of the next few years, I had strangers stop me on campus to comment on that hymn. As much as I would like to think it may have been my stirring performance, I am more inclined to believe it was a message that rang true to their heart, as music has the power to do.

Seventeen-year-old Mackenzie H. took President Pickup’s challenge to heart and began indexing, and she helped her siblings, parents, and grandparents become involved as well. In less than two years, Mackenzie indexed more than 44,000 names. More importantly, Mackenzie and her family felt prompted to seek out their own family names, take them to the temple, and participate in the saving ordinances.

I wrote Elder Featherstone's quote in my scriptures because at the time I read it, I was working in a refugee camp in Thailand. How could I have ever imagined while growing up in the small town of Chino Valley, Arizona, that I would someday find myself working in a refugee camp in Southeast Asia?
I received my first mission call to Indonesia, but the week before entering the MTC, my call was changed to the Philippines because of visa problems. I served in the Philippines a year before being transferred to Thailand to work in the refugee camp.
At that time, refugees from Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos were fleeing the war in their countries. The Church volunteered to assist the United Nations; sister missionaries were called from several missions in Asia to work in the refugee camp. We were assigned to teach cultural orientation and English.
Working in a refugee camp, along with other missionary experiences, proved to be life changing for me. First, these experiences became the basis of a life-long professional career that has brought me many blessings and opportunities, both teaching English and working in international development.
Second, the experiences in the camp became significant spiritual experiences. I will share a couple of them with you.
Shortly before Christmas in 1981, Elder Marion D. Hanks, who was presiding over the Asia Area at that time, came to visit us in the camp. He had told us that we would have one of the best Christmases of our lives as we served the refugees. He read to us what he called the TRUE Christmas story….I have written in my scriptures, "The Christmas story." You know this scripture—when Christ comes in his glory, He will put His sheep on His right hand and say to them:
35 For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in:36 Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.37 Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink?38 When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee?39 Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee?40 And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me (Matthew 25:35-40).
When Christmas Day arrived, the sister missionaries assigned to the camp put on a Christmas program for five different groups of refugees—Vietnamese, Cambodian, Laotian, Hmong, and Yao.
In the Vietnamese section, as we portrayed the manger scene and were singing "Away in a Manager," a young mother near the front, walked up and presented her young baby in place of the rolled up towel we were using for the new born Jesus. For the entire song, the small and beautiful Asian baby looked up at the sister representing Mary and a sweet and quiet spirit came over the large group. The Spirit of Christ came that Christmas day to the Phanat Nikom refugee camp. How blessed we were as missionaries to have followed Him to that place at that time—to have a blessed Christmas Day.

Britta Jensen, a Laurel who lives in Yokosuka, Japan, enlisted the help of other young women, leaders, and some nonmember friends to paint a city wall with the message “Stand for Truth and Righteousness” and the Young Women symbol. The painting was part of a citywide mural-painting contest—and a perfect opportunity for Britta to share a gospel message with others.
“With social pressures as they are now, I think it’s important for girls to know that they can stand up for what they believe in,” says Britta.
Britta, who is an American living in Japan because her father is a commander in the Navy, spent nearly two months designing and preparing the mural. It was hard work, but “it was really worth it,” says Britta, since the mural gave her a chance to share the gospel with curious passersby.

Illustration by Elizabeth Thayer
The young women were excited. In fact, the entire ward in southern France was excited. To encourage greater unity, leaders were planning a ward social, with dinner and entertainment. Knowing that the Beehives, Mia Maids, and Laurels had already been learning songs and dances during some of their activities, the leaders invited them to provide the evening’s entertainment.
And so the ward’s young women began practicing in earnest—all of them but one. Manon would not be able to perform. She had been undergoing cancer treatments for more than two years.
Manon C., age 16, still came to meetings and activities as often as she could, and she always shared a bright smile despite what she was going through. But during chemotherapy she was sometimes too weak to do much more than rest. Ward members had fasted and prayed several times on her behalf. No one expected her to practice or to dance.
But she could attend the dinner. So why not dedicate the evening to Manon?
The idea quickly caught on.
“We wanted Manon to feel the ward’s love and support for her,” explains Emma S., 16. “If our ward wanted to become more unified, what better way to do it than by working together to show our love for Manon?”
The entire ward became involved in the preparations. Families received assignments to bring food for the dinner; the Relief Society helped make costumes for the young women; the young adults provided technical support (lighting, sound, and background videos) for rehearsals and the final performance; and priesthood brethren helped set up tables and chairs.
All of this work was done by ward members spread out over a large area. “The youth in the ward are very close in spirit, but we live far apart,” says Aiolah V., 16. “We don’t see each other in school because we live in different parts of town, so we make an extra effort to ensure that no one gets left off to the side.”
“We also stay in touch all the time, thanks to cell phones,” says Inka S., 15. “We teach each other by sharing our different experiences. We know we can count on each other, and we try to set good examples for each other.” The young women, who love being together whenever they can, found that rehearsals for the dinner show provided additional opportunities to deepen friendships.
“Before we started rehearsing, I was quite shy,” Inka explains. “I was afraid of making a mistake. But when we danced as a group, I put my shyness aside. I knew it was time to show the ward how hard we had worked.”
Manon, for her part, was both humble and gracious. “When they told me about the dinner and show and that I’d be the guest of honor, I thought I’d be bothered that they were making a fuss,” she recalls. “On the other hand, I was excited to be there!”
Soon the evening arrived, and it was a perfect occasion to offer love and support for Manon. “The food, of course, was excellent,” Aiolah says. “This is France, after all!”
And then the entertainment—called a spectacle in French—lived up to its name. Games, vocal presentations, and dances delighted the audience. Then the young women, as a combined choir, provided the highlight of the show. They dedicated a song to Manon, a song Emma wrote and composed herself. The lyrics in the chorus sum up the love and support everyone wanted Manon to feel:
Please don’t give up,
’Cause we believe in you,
And don’t forget who you are,
’Cause we believe in you.
As the young women performed the song, it was as if everyone in the ward were singing along, at least in their hearts. It felt like Emma’s simple song was transformed into an unsung chorus that resonates in the hearts of Latter-day Saints wherever they are—an anthem of courage and compassion; family and friends; unity, faith, and hope; a never-ending prayer that is heard in heaven.
The leaders’ intent in organizing the social was to unify the ward. Dedicating the evening to Manon not only helped to accomplish that goal but also generated an enduring sense of support for Manon and her family and an understanding that every child of God is important. “It is the goal of the Church to help us be closer to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ,” Aiolah says. “We know that They love us and that we are never alone.”

Our ward needed a new deacons quorum president. My counselors and I knelt in our bishopric meeting, as we always do, to seek the Lord’s approval on this and other callings.
Feeling a confirmation of the Spirit, I set up an interview with Víctor Leonardo Jiménez Gonzáles, a young man who had recently turned 12 and was already serving as the deacons quorum secretary.
During the interview, I asked Víctor about his current calling and how he was feeling.
“I’m worried, Bishop,” he answered. “I’m really concerned.”
“Why are you concerned?”
“Well, I want all the deacons to be at church. So today on my way over here, I went to Nicholas and Anthony’s house and woke them up, and then I went over to Jimmy and Luis’s to get them to come. I really get worried, Bishop,” Víctor said.
I was amazed by what he was saying and that a 12-year-old deacons quorum secretary could be so concerned about the other members of his quorum.
“I’m here to serve,” he went on, “and I want to do it right, but I’m one of the lowest leaders.”
“What do you mean ‘one of the lowest leaders’?” I asked.
“Because I’m the secretary. I’m not the president or a counselor. I’m a secretary, and that makes me one of the lowest leaders. But the deacons should be here and they’re not, so I have to go get them because this is where they’re supposed to be. I don’t know why they don’t come. But I have to go get them, Bishop!”
My tears could no longer be restrained, and they spilled from my eyes. Choked with emotion, I said, “You have made me remember why I was called as the bishop. It’s to be concerned about others, to visit and serve them as King Benjamin did. We need to be in the service of others, and then we will be in the service of God. You are not the lowest leader. Everyone who serves plays a role important to our Heavenly Father and His Church.”
To this, he said, “That’s what I learned from my dad. And now when I see you crying, I remember this one time when he talked to me—-he was crying and he told me, ‘When you have a responsibility, you have to do it right.’ ”
The tears refreshed my soul, and the young man’s words refreshed my memory. I remembered the great worth of our Heavenly Father’s children when I saw the worth this young man placed on each of the members of his quorum.
I extended a calling as president of the deacons quorum to Víctor. In response he said, “Now I’m really going to work hard. I’m not going to disappoint you, Bishop.”
Even now, some time later, the tears return as I remember this unforgettable interview. I know the divine potential this young man has. He has the future firmly in sight, and his vision of what is important is clear.

In early 2020, within a day of each other, Gordon Matenga and Brandt Shortland were appointed district court judges for their respective New Zealand regions.
Both men are of indigenous Maori heritage and both had also served as acting chief coroners, but these are only some of the many parallels in their lives. It turns out, Gordon Matenga and Brandt Shortland are longtime friends with so much more in common.
They are both members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and have known each other since they attended Church College of New Zealand (CCNZ).
“I lived in Dinsdale, Hamilton . . . so I was a day student since 1977,” Gordon recalls. Brandt, who is a year older, enrolled in 1978. “That’s when we first got to know each other.”
It was a teacher at CCNZ, Brother Jim Kingi, who first planted the seed in Gordon’s mind that law could be a career for him. He didn’t know then that Brandt would eventually choose a similar path.
In his final year, each was elected CCNZ’s student body president, Brandt in 1980 and Gordon in 1981. They went on to serve full-time missions for the Church in Australia—Brandt in Perth and Gordon in Brisbane.
After his mission, Brandt enrolled at Waikato University to study social sciences. When Gordon returned, he signed up for pre-law at Waikato, where he and Brandt did a Maori paper together.
From there, Brandt gained a law degree at Victoria University, and Gordon finished his studies at the University of Auckland. They reunited in Hamilton in the early stages of their respective law careers.
The parallels continued.
In 1996, Gordon became the first Maori coroner in New Zealand, and a decade later, he was appointed full-time coroner for both the Waikato and Bay of Plenty regions. That same year, 2007, Brandt left a thriving law practice in Hamilton to accept his own full-time coroners’ role in the Te Tai Tokerau (Northland) region.
As coroners, they’ve each had to “manage the impact of dealing with death on a daily basis,” Brandt says. “On top of that . . . dealing with grieving whanau (families) in the rawest of times is a tough ask.” He coped by keeping himself physically fit and attending church regularly. “I have been lucky,” he adds, “with a whanau that keep my feet on the ground.”
Gordon remembers a difficult call regarding a 3-year-old who had drowned in a paddling pool. “I immediately went outside, emptied out [my own child’s] paddling pool and put it away.” But Gordon says it was only when the details of a case mirrored his own life somehow that it could affect him this way. “Otherwise, I didn’t find it that difficult . . . because of our knowledge of the plan of salvation. I knew that death is a part of life.”
Over the years, both have also served in various Church leadership roles. When they became district court judges, each had to be released as the first counsellor in his respective stake presidency.
“Everyone is entitled to be equal before the law,” says Gordon, “. . . to be represented.” Brandt says it’s about balancing human compassion with the requirements of the law. “I’d like to be remembered for being fair and respectful to all who appeared in front of me.”
These days, the friends don’t get to see each other as often as they’d like, but they continue to appreciate and support each other from afar. “Brandt has an uncanny ability. . .to remember people’s names,” Gordon says, “and he can talk to anyone . . . people warm to him. I admire that because it’s not one of my strengths.”
“[Gordon] has always been calm and measured in . . . all that he does,” Brandt says. “He has been a faithful servant. He has outlasted the trials that should have taken his life.” On top of all that, Brandt adds, “He is a great musician who loves to sing.”

Illustration by Jim Madsen
At the beginning of my mission, I served in a small city in South Korea. One rainy day we had not had a lot of success but wanted to keep working until it was time to go home. My companion and I decided that we would knock on a few more doors.
At one door a woman answered, and my companion started talking to her. As a new missionary, I had a hard time understanding, but after a few minutes she began speaking to us in English. We found out that she was from Chicago, Illinois, USA, and had moved here with her family. Her husband was a preacher for a church that did not have friendly feelings toward our beliefs.
The woman was nice but eager to disprove the Book of Mormon and convince us that our church was incorrect. I stood there with my companion as he tried to answer her difficult questions. My companion tried to testify to her that the Book of Mormon is true and that it could help her, but she insisted on believing that he was incorrect.
After about 30 minutes of discussion at the door, she asked my companion, “Where will we go after this life?” I could tell she was eager to refute my companion’s teachings, as she had before. My companion testified of the plan of salvation and that we can live with our families forever in the celestial kingdom. Before he could continue, she stopped him and asked him to repeat what he had just said about families being together. He again replied with the same response. I felt the Spirit so strongly, and I could see in her eyes that something had touched her deeply too. After that short but powerful testimony, she stopped arguing with us, took a Book of Mormon, and asked us to come back to talk with her and her husband about the Book of Mormon.
I remember walking home with my companion that evening, amazed by the effect of my companion’s testimony. I understood then that a testimony accompanied by the Spirit is the most powerful teaching tool we have. I’ll never forget my companion and his testimony that night. After that experience I decided that, even with my limited ability to speak Korean, I would try to bear my testimony no matter what. As I did, I began to feel the Spirit more and more. I learned that the best communication happens when you teach by the Spirit.

As a junior in high school, I had just entered the hardest year of my academic career. I was swamped with classes and other activities. One Thursday, I had a swim meet that took all day. I not only missed school, but I didn’t get home until seven o’clock at night.
As I tried to prepare for the busy Friday ahead of me, I found myself burdened by the amount of homework I had to do and several tests I had to study for. I was worn out from my swim meet and felt stressed about everything I had to get done.
In desperation, I said a prayer to my Heavenly Father. I told Him of my troubles and all the deadlines I had to meet. Despite my prayer, I could not avoid a sense of doubt. I thought to myself, “How can the Lord help me if what I’ve done just isn’t enough?” Mentally and physically exhausted, I fell asleep before I had finished preparing for the next day.
On Friday, I was amazed at how everything I needed fell into place. I didn’t miss any deadlines, and I had been able to complete all my homework. Some of my teachers allowed me to take my tests on Monday, enabling me to study for other tests and finish other homework. After doing all I could do, things had somehow worked out.
But in the consuming events of the day, I had completely forgotten my prayer from the night before. It wasn’t until later that night, as I remembered the words of my prayer and reflected on what had happened, that I recognized the Lord’s hand in my life. I am grateful the Lord heard and answered my prayer, even when I wasn’t sure it was possible.

My experiences have made me desire to emulate the Savior’s lifting of others. As I went through the divorce process, several people counseled me never to tear down my husband in front of our children. The wisdom of this advice was evident almost daily, as occasions to demean him arose frequently. I prayerfully sought the ability to withhold criticism and to emphasize his positive traits.
At first this was extremely difficult because he had hurt me deeply and had made serious mistakes. But as I tried to help my children see his worth, my capacity to continue doing so increased. Each time I used words that built him up truthfully and fairly, I felt closer to the Savior. I chose to allow—even foster—the tender feelings my children have for their father. When the Spirit prompted me to pray for him in family prayer, I was able to do so with compassion.

Jimmy’s refusal. One evening when Jimmy went with friends to a party, “a girl came up and offered me alcohol,” he says. “I said no and didn’t pay any attention to her, but she kept offering it to me. And it wasn’t just alcohol—there were invitations to do other things. I didn’t agree to any of it, and I pulled away from the group. Some of the kids said I was antisocial, but I knew I couldn’t stay there. Every time I have a trial like this and overcome it, I become stronger.”