Gospel Story Finder

Pat: Just one concluding experience which, although taken from our marriage, has application to you right now—young or old, married or single, new convert or longtime member. Twenty-two years ago (we’re coming full circle to close on that number) Jeff and I, marriage certificate in hand, made our way to Brigham Young University. We put all we owned in a secondhand Chevrolet and headed for Provo. We were not uneasy. We were not frightened. We were terrified. We were little hayseeds from St. George, Utah, and here we were in Provo—at Brigham Young University, where the world was to be our campus.

The housing people were very helpful in providing lists of apartments. The registration staff helped straighten out some transfer credits. The folks in the employment center suggested where we might work. We pieced together some furniture and found some friends. Then we splurged, left our new $45-a-month, two-room-and-a-shower apartment to have an evening meal in the Wilkinson Center cafeteria. We were impressed and exhilarated and still terrified. We knew we were on the greatest of all possible campuses.

Jeff: I remember on one of those beautiful summer evenings walking up from our apartment on Third North and First East to the brow of the hill where the Maeser Building so majestically stands. Pat and I were arm in arm and very much in love, but school had not started and there seemed to be so very much at stake. We were nameless, faceless, meaningless little undergraduates seeking our place in the sun. And we were newly married, each trusting our future so totally to the other, yet hardly aware of that at the time. I remember standing about halfway between the Maeser Building and the President’s Home and being suddenly overwhelmed with the challenge I felt—new family, new life, new education, no money and no confidence. I remember turning to Pat and holding her in the beauty of that August evening and fighting back the tears. I asked, “Do you think we can do it? Do you think we can compete with all these people in all these buildings who know so much more than we do and are so able? Do you think we’ve made a mistake?” Then I said, “Do you think we should withdraw and go home?”

As a brief tribute to her in what has been a very personal message anyway, I guess that was the first time I saw what I would see again and again and again in her—the love, the confidence, the staying power, the reassurance, the careful handling of my fears, and the sensitive nurturing of my faith, especially faith in myself. She (who must have been terrified herself, especially now, linked to me for life) nevertheless set aside her own doubts, slammed shut the hatch on the airplane and grabbed me by the safety belt. “Of course we can do it,” she said. “Of course we’re not going home.” Then, standing there, almost literally in the evening shadows of a home we would much later, for a time, call our own, she gently reminded me that surely others were feeling the same thing, that what we had in our hearts was enough to get us through, that our Father in Heaven would be helping.

Pat: If you stand on the south patio of the President’s Home you can see the exact spot two vulnerable, frightened, newly married BYU students stood twenty-two years ago, fighting back the tears and facing the future with all the faith they could summon.

Some nights we stand and look out on that spot—usually nights when things have been a little challenging—and we remember those very special days.

Please don’t feel you are the only ones who have ever been fearful or vulnerable or alone—before marriage or after. Everyone has, and from time to time perhaps everyone will yet be.

Nearly 200 years ago, the American short story “Rip Van Winkle” became an instant classic. The main character, Rip, is an unambitious man who is very good at avoiding two things: work and his wife.
One day, while wandering in the mountains with his dog, he discovers a group of strangely dressed men drinking and playing games. After accepting some of their liquor, Rip becomes drowsy and closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens his eyes again, he is surprised to find that his dog is gone, his rifle has rusted, and he now has a long beard.
Rip makes his way back to his village only to discover that everything has changed. His wife has died, his friends are gone, and the portrait of King George III in the tavern has been replaced by a portrait of someone he does not recognize—by General George Washington.
Rip Van Winkle had been sleeping for 20 years! And in the process, he had missed one of the most exciting periods in the history of his country—he had slept through the American Revolution.
In May 1966, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. used this story as an illustration for his speech “Don’t Sleep Through the Revolution.”1

Jason Johnson had a peculiar talent. In fact, it was so peculiar that many people, including Jason’s mother, weren’t at all sure it really was a talent. Jason could hop-leap exactly like a frog. He practiced in the hall, up and down the stairs, and he spent hours dreaming of becoming the greatest frog-hop-leaper in the world.
“Jason, the magnificent frog-hop-leaper!” he’d shout as he flew across the room.
“Do you have to do that?” Mrs. Johnson sighed.
“When a person has a talent, he should use it,” Jason answered. “It isn’t everyone who can hop-leap like a frog. Someday someone will need my special talent.”
Mrs. Johnson shook her head and went back to folding the clothes. “But you also have a musical talent. There are more people who like to listen to music than there are who like to see a human frog.”
Jason went on hop-leaping and dreaming.
The very next week an amazing thing happened. Jason ran home from school, threw open the door, and shouted, “Mother, Mother! I’m going to be in our school play!” He panted hard to catch his breath.
“That’s very good,” Mrs. Johnson replied. “And now you can do something besides hop-leap around the house.”
“But you don’t understand,” Jason answered. “They need that special talent. Miss Kimper said I was exactly what they needed for the star of the play.”
Mrs. Johnson smiled. “What part is it?”
“I’m going to be the frog that turns into a prince. I’m going to hop-leap all over the stage so I must keep in practice,” and Jason hop-leaped into the next room to put his books away.
For three weeks Jason hop-leaped everywhere! His friends laughed at him when he practiced; his brothers and sisters were embarrassed to be seen with him, and strangers stared as they tried to figure out what he was doing. It made Jason sad, but he kept on practicing. I hope they’ll change their minds when they see the play. And maybe they will not think it is so silly when people all over the world are asking for me to perform, he thought as he went on practicing.
The night arrived for the play. Jason walked onto the stage and crouched down behind a cardboard tree. His green costume was tight, and he could barely see through the tiny holes in the mask, but he knew his part perfectly. All he had to do was hop-leap around the cardboard scenery until it was time for him to turn into a prince.
Slowly the curtains opened and the play began. The narrator began to talk and Jason began to hop-leap. But with every leap his costume seemed tighter and his mask fell down a little more. Hop-leap, hop-leap! He went around the huge paper flowers and over the tiny bridge. Hop-leap, hop-leap, gracefully and perfectly he performed. Twice around the tree. Hop-leap, hop-leap! Once more he circled the flowers and then he jumped onto the bridge for his one final hop-leap. By now the mask had slipped down so far he could not see at all and his costume felt like a giant elastic that was squeezing him.
This is a special talent, he thought. I’ve practiced and practiced. I can jump even with my eyes closed!
He crouched down and with all his strength he pushed off from the bridge and flew skillfully through the air. But he flew too far! Thump, thump, THUMP! He bounced down the few stairs at the front of the stage and into the audience.
Jason still could not see, but he could tell his tight frog costume had ripped all the way up the back.
“Are you all right?” he heard his mother whisper.
“Sure.” Jason tried to smile as he pulled his mask off, but he hurt.
Miss Kimper announced an intermission and the room grew noisy as Jason’s mother tried to pin the frog costume back together.
“I’ve been thinking,” Jason said as he rubbed his sore legs. “Maybe my jumping isn’t important enough to have my friends laugh at me. Besides, there really isn’t much of a future for a talented frog-hop-leaper. I think I’d like to take piano lessons and start to practice music.”
Jason’s mother only smiled as she fastened the last safety pin in his frog costume. “There,” she said, “that will do for the rest of the play.”
Jason walked back onto the stage and finished the play, but all the while he was dreaming of what it would be like to be a great piano player. After all, it isn’t everyone who can play the piano, he thought.

In 2000, Lucas Bento traveled from Mozambique to Lisbon, Portugal where his brother lived, to receive medical treatment for a chronic illness. He stayed with his brother and made weekly visits to a nearby hospital. Lucas was a faithful member of a Protestant church in Mozambique and was anxious to attend services during his stay in Lisbon. When he asked his brother where he might find the local Protestant church, he was told that there was not one in the area, but that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, was nearby. His brother was not a member of the Church but was familiar with the missionaries and knew that they were frequently in the neighborhood visiting people. Lucas’ brother knew that the missionaries would gladly take him to church.
Lucas began meeting with the missionaries and soon expressed an interest in becoming a member. He was particularly impressed with the commandments and teachings of the Church, such as the Word of Wisdom, the law of chastity and the importance of having a living prophet. One scripture in the Book of Mormon was important to his search for the true Church. In 3 Nephi 27:8, he read, “And how be it my church save it be called in my name?” Lucas Bento gained a testimony of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and was baptized on 9 June 2002. He was ordained to the Aaronic Priesthood and soon returned to his village in Mozambique where he was the only member of the Church.
Brother Bento’s branch president in Lisbon instructed him not to join another church when he returned to Mozambique, but to gather his family and teach them the gospel of Jesus Christ. Brother Bento asked the missionaries in Portugal why the Church was not in Mozambique. When he discovered that the Church was indeed in his country, he wrote the mission president in Maputo asking for directions to the Church. Missionaries were sent to visit Brother Bento in Nampula. He showed them his baptismal and Aaronic Priesthood ordination certificates, and arrangements were made to ordain Brother Bento to the Melchizedek Priesthood. He wrote again to tell the mission president that he had followed the directions of his branch president in Lisbon and had been teaching his family and friends. There were 18 people ready to be baptized.
Brother Bento continues to share the gospel with his neighbors and is now the group leader for a small congregation in the village of Luaha, Mozambique. There, close to 80 members have joined the Church as a result of Brother Bento’s missionary efforts. He loves the gospel of Jesus Christ and continues to teach his neighbors about the prophet Joseph Smith and the Restoration. Brother Bento recently traveled to the temple in Johannesburg, South Africa, to be endowed and sealed to his wife. “When I went to Lisbon,” he says, “I did not go just for my illness; it was Heavenly Father’s will. Over my year in Portugal, I went to five hospitals and was still was not cured. But I now understand that I went to Portugal to find the true Church of Jesus Christ.”

During a recent open house and media day for a new house of the Lord, I led a group of journalists on a tour through the sacred structure. I described the purposes of temples in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and responded to their many excellent questions.
Before entering the celestial room, I explained that this particular room in the house of the Lord symbolically represents the peace and beauty of the heavenly home to which we can return after this life. I indicated to our guests that we would not speak while in the celestial room, but I would be happy to answer any questions after we moved to the next stop on the tour.
After exiting the celestial room and as we gathered at the next location, I asked our guests if they had any observations they wanted to share. One of the journalists said with great emotion, “I have never experienced anything like that in my entire life. I did not know quiet like that existed in the world; I simply did not believe such stillness was possible.”
I was struck by both the sincerity and the starkness of this person’s statement. And the journalist’s reaction highlighted one important aspect of stillness—overcoming and tuning out the commotion of our external environment.
As I later pondered the journalist’s comment and reflected on the often hectic pace of our modern lives—the busyness, noise, diversions, distractions, and detours that so often seem to demand our attention—a scripture came to my mind: “Be still, and know that I am God.”

Last March, University of Utah forward Britton Johnsen was making a huge impact in Texas, helping to propel his team on its incredible cruise through the NCAA finals all the way to the championship game in San Antonio. There he played in an arena packed with some 41,000 screaming fans and was watched by a worldwide television audience of several hundred million. Britton’s impressive play under pressure wasn’t surprising considering the titles and descriptions he’d earned: McDonald’s all-American, Utah’s Mr. Basketball, top-20 recruit, “a star in the making,” “breathtakingly talented,” and “able to jump out of a gym.”
This March, Britton continues to make an impact in Texas. Only now he has traded his blazing red jersey for a white shirt and tie, his audiences seldom exceed a handful of people, and his only title is “Elder” as he serves in the Texas Houston Mission.
Shortly after the NCAA finals, Britton announced his decision to serve a mission. The decision came at no small sacrifice. Many people, including Utah head coach Rick Majerus, say Britton has tremendous NBA potential, but leaving the game for two years may jeopardize his pro chances. “Coach was saying everything he could to get me to stay,” recalls Britton. “I’ve been told that if I stay for all four years in a row, I’d definitely go pro.”
Still, when asked how he’d feel if serving a mission meant giving up the NBA or even his college career, Britton quickly replies, “It would be worth it.
“I could join the things-of-the-world team, maybe go to the NBA, make it big, make a lot of money. Or I can play on the things-of-the-Spirit team. Basketball will someday end. But the Spirit is always there—if you do what’s right, it will never leave you.”
Britton is quick to shrug off praise he receives for being willing to give up so much, pointing out that everyone who serves a mission does so at some sacrifice. “Just leaving your mom and dad is sacrifice enough!” He says that for his twin brother, Brandon (serving in the Canada Calgary Mission), going on a mission was every bit as significant and every bit as difficult.
Coming out of high school, Britton was heavily recruited by several top programs. He signed with Utah so he could eventually play with his older brother, Jeff, who had played one year for Utah before leaving for his mission.
Britton began the season with great expectations—sports magazines listed him as a top-20 recruit and compared him to Keith Van Horn, the Utah all-American who had been a number-two NBA draft pick in 1997. But hopes for Britton came crashing down when he sustained a knee injury early on.
“I planned on having a great year, going on a mission, then coming back for three more years,” he says. But as the season progressed, Britton’s injury kept him on the sidelines. “The season was turning into a disaster.”
For the first time in his life, Britton began to question whether he should go on a mission. Majerus told the press that if Britton were to go after being benched all year, “his pro chances are null and void and his chance for a college career is really in peril. He can’t sit three years.”
Dejected and struggling, Britton turned to a man he looks up to more than any other—his father. “He was such a boost. He would just sit me down and help me open my eyes and realize the right thing to do. But there was no pressure. I knew he would have supported me either way.”
Still wanting more than anything a chance to play before the season ended, Britton also turned to his Heavenly Father. “I prayed nonstop that my knee would improve and that I’d have a chance to prove myself.”
In what seemed like a small miracle, just three games before the end of the season Britton began to get playing time. “Coach said I’d been working so hard that whether he won with me or lost with me, he was going to put me in.”
After being benched all season, Britton was out of sync at first. But with each game, his performance improved and his playing time increased. Astonishingly, by the time the NCAA tournament started, he was playing remarkably well. He was a big factor in the underdog Utes’ upset victories over third-ranked North Carolina and defending NCAA champion Arizona.
“This is what I got from the Lord—the chance to prove what I could do,” says Britton. In the end Britton got his dream come true: an opportunity to play—and play well—in the NCAA championship game.
Britton’s older brother Jeff, who continues to serve in the California Fresno mission, helped Britton keep the whole thing in perspective. “Jeff told me that through all this attention Satan would try to get me not to go. But he bore his testimony to me and let me know that a mission is still so much better than playing basketball.”
Another answer to Britton’s prayers also came during the NCAA tournament—surprisingly, from a competitor. Mark Madsen is a Stanford starting forward who led his team to the Final Four last year. He also happens to be a returned missionary.
Like Britton, Mark knew the thrill of playing in a Final Four game, although his team lost. The day after the loss, Mark shared his testimony at a ward in San Antonio. “I heard that Mark bore his testimony, saying that it had been one of the best weeks of his life, but that it still didn’t compare to his feelings of being on a mission,” says Britton. “Hearing this made my decision easier.”
“That was the greatest dream of my life.” When Britton says this, he’s not talking about playing in the biggest game of college basketball. He’s not describing how he felt knowing millions of sports fans were watching him. Rather, he is talking about a brief, unexpected encounter he had with the First Presidency shortly after the finals.
Back in Salt Lake City, Ute players were presenting a signed basketball to the First Presidency when an assistant coach suggested Britton discuss with them his decision to serve a mission. Before Britton knew what was happening, he found himself alone with the First Presidency in President Hinckley’s office.
“I was totally stuttering,” says Britton. “I said, ‘Going on a mission has been a tough decision, and I guess I already know what the right thing to do is, but it would be nice to hear what you’d say.’ Then President Hinckley smiled at me and said, ‘Well, what do you think I’m going to say?’”
“President Monson explained that I had been a highly touted freshman, that I had been pressured to stay, and that some people were saying I could represent the Church in other ways. Then right away President Hinckley stood up, took my hand, looked me in the eye, and said very clearly, ‘You go on a mission and the Lord will bless you.’ It was an awesome feeling.”
Not long after, Britton had a final talk with his father and his coach, then announced his decision to serve. “It just felt right; I just felt good about the decision,” Britton explains.
In the end, Britton’s coach supported his decision. “It is with regret and sadness from a basketball standpoint that Britton departs, but I am pleased because he seems to be so at peace and happy about the decision,” said Majerus. “I’m proud to be a coach of so many young men who felt so good about a religious experience that they would want to sacrifice their basketball.”
This year, Elder Britton Johnsen won’t be participating in March Madness. But he says that’s okay with him. “I get the same goose-bumpy feeling just reading my scriptures as I do playing in front of 40,000 people,” he says. “Besides, the things I’ll gain on my mission and the things other people will hopefully gain because I go will make it all worth it.”

One of my daughters-in-law spent many years feeling that God had placed a pavilion over her. She was a young mother of three who longed for more children. After two miscarriages, her prayers of pleading grew anguished. As more barren years passed, she felt tempted to anger. When her youngest went off to school, the emptiness of her house seemed to mock her focus on motherhood—so did the unplanned and even unwanted pregnancies of acquaintances. She felt as committed and consecrated as Mary, who declared, “Behold the handmaid of the Lord.”6 But although she spoke these words in her heart, she could hear nothing in reply.
Hoping to lift her spirits, her husband invited her to join him on a business trip to California. While he attended meetings, she walked along the beautiful, empty beach. Her heart ready to burst, she prayed aloud. For the first time, she asked not for another child but for a divine errand. “Heavenly Father,” she cried, “I will give you all of my time; please show me how to fill it.” She expressed her willingness to take her family wherever they might be required to go. That prayer produced an unexpected feeling of peace. It did not satisfy her mind’s craving for certainty, but for the first time in years, it calmed her heart.
The prayer removed the pavilion and opened the windows of heaven. Within two weeks she learned that she was expecting a child. The new baby was just one year old when a mission call came to my son and my daughter-in-law. Having promised to go and do anything, anywhere, she put fear aside and took her children overseas. In the mission field she had another child—on a missionary transfer day.

I was baptized on April 6, 2019. Four years later, in 2023, I received a call to serve as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the Jamaica Kingston Mission. Before I left my beloved Guyana, my journey took several troubling turns.
How did it begin? I completed my mission recommendation forms and received my call. Everything went smoothly until my parents heard I’d be going to Jamaica. It was so far away! My parents, mostly my mother, decided I shouldn’t go. “No, you’re not going!” she said. “You have to start school and work, and it’s too far away! It could be dangerous. A lot of things can happen.”
I was sad to hear this. I tried explaining that I would be safe and that when I got back, I could continue school. My mother still disagreed and gave me two options: “One, you stay here at home, work, and go to school, or two, you choose to serve this mission and forget you have a family. What’s your pick?”
I was shocked upon hearing this, and the conversation ended that night. I continued to prepare for my mission with the help of my stake president and district members. I was concerned that I would break the commandment to “honour thy father and thy mother” (Exodus 20:12) if I went. I was told to trust God and ask what He would have me do. I remember calling my stake president twice, telling him I don’t want to serve. I wasn’t just troubled by my mother’s words but also by other personal conflicts of feeling inadequate and leaving behind people I loved and things I wanted to do.
Several weeks later, my stake president called and asked if I still wanted to serve. He invited me to pray and ask God if a mission was right for me. After three days of pondering, I decided not to serve, but I hadn’t called the stake president yet. The next day, he called again and asked, “So what’s your answer—do you want to serve?” Without hesitation, I said, “Yes, I want to serve a mission!” Though I had decided not to serve, the Spirit led me to say yes.
I could not fully understand what happened to me in that moment until I was in the mission field. When I left, my mother stopped trying to tell me not to serve and said, “You’re old enough to choose, so go ahead and do as you want.” My father said, “Good luck.”
One week later, I was on a plane to the missionary training center. While I was in the MTC, my mother wouldn’t speak to me on my preparation days, but on the last day, before I left the MTC, my mother called. From then on to the end of my mission, we talked, maybe not every week, but I was grateful that my parents could finally allow and support me in choosing to serve God.
In Doctrine and Covenants 84:88, the Lord Jesus Christ promised to all his faithful servants, “I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up.”
I learned so much on my mission and saw so many miracles. It helped develop my testimony and helped me grow into who I am today, a covenant daughter of God, willing to surrender to Him. The Lord has blessed my relationships and given me wisdom. I know He qualifies those whom He calls to serve. I know that the Lord takes care of those who choose Him over the things of the world. Because of Him, we are blessed to have families that love us. I know this to be true.

The first time we were in a shoot,” Abe says, “it was like, ‘You guys ready to start? Okay, let’s pray. All the cameramen, the sound guys, us, the directors, and the producers all came in and we prayed. We know what we’re there for, and we ask the Lord to help us.

Ivey tells about going to St. George, Utah, and Valley of Fire, Nevada, to film on location. “We shot real film rather than video, so we could get the beautiful scenery. But real film is more expensive. The cameramen bought special equipment so they could film in the sun. There was a huge storm. But it had to be sunny. That day was the last time we could film.
“We prayed and the weather cleared up in time for us to do our shots. We finished our last take and then the clouds came in and it was totally cloudy and snowing. Our director said to remember to thank Heavenly Father for the break in the weather, because it had cleared just long enough for us to do what we had to do.”

On the other side of town, in a fine, large home live the van Littens, a family that has preserved Christmas traditions from Holland for generations. Dirk is wistfully remembering the fun when Sinterklaas (Saint Nicholas) came to their house on December 5.
Dirk had put his shoes on the hearth and filled them with sugar and hay for Sinterklaas’s white horse. The next morning the sugar and hay were gone, and in their places were a fine set of paints and new skates for Dirk.
Dirk sighs. The saintly old bishop in his red robe is gone, along with the gay parties and nonsense of Saint Nicholas’s Eve. Christmas Day is for going to church and eating a great dinner. Dirk wishes that Sinterklaas would come again instead.

One day after school, one of our daughters came into a teenage son’s room. It looked as if a big wind had blown through. He was sitting in the midst of it all. She felt the anger rising within, but remembered her resolution to look for the good. Searching desperately, her eye finally looked upward. “Your ceiling’s really clean, Adam!” she was able to say quite honestly. He laughed; he got the message, and he cleaned up the room.

During the pandemic I have met with youth from all over the world in many devotionals, large and small, through broadcasts and social media, and we have discussed their questions.

Youth often ask me what I believe and why I believe.

I remember visiting virtually with one young woman in her home. I asked if it was the first time an Apostle had been in her home. She quickly smiled and responded, “Yes.” Her question for me was good: “What are the most important things I should know?”

I answered with the things of my soul, the things that prepare me to hear promptings, that lift my sights beyond the ways of the world, that give purpose to my work in the gospel and to my very life.

We have a prophet of God on the earth today! Never discount what that means for you. Remember the young woman I mentioned at the beginning. She wanted to know what things matter most. “Follow the living prophet,” I said then and I emphasize again today.

Let me share with you a personal experience from my own youth about the power of righteous motives.

After the turmoil of the Second World War, my family ended up in Russian-occupied East Germany. When I attended fourth grade I had to learn Russian as my first foreign language in school. I found this quite difficult because of the Cyrillic alphabet, but as time went on I seemed to do all right.
When I turned 11 we had to leave East Germany overnight because of the political orientation of my father. Now I was going to school in West Germany, which was American-occupied at that time. There in school all children were required to learn English and not Russian. To learn Russian had been difficult, but English was impossible for me. I thought my mouth was not made for speaking English. My teachers struggled. My parents suffered. And I knew English was definitely not my language.
But then something changed in my young life. Almost daily I rode my bicycle to the airport and watched airplanes take off and land. I read, studied, and learned everything I could find about aviation. It was my greatest desire to become a pilot. I could already picture myself in the cockpit of an airliner or in a military fighter plane. I felt deep in my heart this was my thing!
Then I learned that to become a pilot I needed to speak English. Overnight, to the total surprise of everybody, it appeared as if my mouth had changed. I was able to learn English. It still took a lot of work, persistence, and patience, but I was able to learn English!
Why? Because of a righteous and strong motive!

In a few days we will dedicate the beautiful Denver Temple.

When it was announced that we would build a temple in that city and had selected a site on which it should stand, opposition rose against us. We gave up that site and tried another. Again we were thwarted. But we were determined to go forward, putting our trust in the Lord that He would guide us in accomplishing His purposes. Two other possible sites were selected. At the time, President Kimball and President Romney were both ill, and mine was a serious responsibility. I asked President Benson, then President of the Council of the Twelve, if we might go to Denver together, and there with Elder Russell Taylor we looked over these sites. I give you my testimony that we were guided by the Spirit in choosing the ground on which that beautiful new structure now stands. It will be dedicated later this month as a house of God.

Illustrations by Clare MS Liao
McKay dressed in his church clothes. He put on his favorite yellow tie. McKay liked going to Primary. He liked his teacher. He liked his Sunbeam class.
But McKay also felt a little sad. Daddy, McKay, and Ryan went to church. But Mommy didn’t go to church.
When McKay was in Primary, he kept thinking about Mommy. He didn’t want her to be lonely. Then he heard his teacher say that it was time to sing “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam.”
“That’s my favorite song!” McKay said. McKay loved how happy he felt singing. He sang in his loudest voice.
A sunbeam, a sunbeam,
Jesus wants me for a sunbeam.
A sunbeam, a sunbeam,
I’ll be a sunbeam for Him.
After the song, McKay’s teacher helped everyone make a sun necklace with paper and yarn. McKay colored his bright yellow and drew a happy face. He wanted Mommy to feel as happy as he did.
Daddy came to pick him up after class. McKay showed Daddy the sun necklace. “I want to be like Jesus. I’m going to give this to Mommy.”
Daddy smiled. “That’s a great idea.”
At home, McKay gave Mommy the necklace. “I made this for you! You can wear it when I’m at church.”
Mommy hugged McKay. “Thank you!” She put it around her neck. “I’ll think of you whenever I wear it.”

Sikeli Vuli laughs as he tries unsuccessfully to remember how many times he’s fallen in the river. Until not too long ago, an accidental swim was a fairly regular occurrence for those living in the small village of Navatuyaba, near Suva, Fiji.
That’s because if you needed to go to the city, school, or local store, you would have to cross the river that snakes slowly by the village, take a long walk to the nearest bridge (about two hours), or pay hard-earned and scarce cash for a bus ride.
“I have to cross the river many times a day,” says Sikeli, 13. “My friends live across the river.”
Crossing the river was by far the easiest choice, even if it meant using an unstable raft made of a few long bamboo poles lashed together. And if there were more than a couple of people waiting, it was faster to hold your schoolbooks and school uniform above your head and swim across in clothes that could get wet, because you’d probably fall off the raft anyway.
At least, that’s the way it was before the Church waded in and helped the members put a paddle to the problem. The Church provided a boat. You’d think it was an airplane, though, by the way the members’ spirits have been lifted.
“We’re grateful for the boat,” says Litiana Delai, 12. “It’s so much easier to get to the other side.”
The Navatuyaba Branch’s boat is only one of many projects the Nausori Fiji Stake has undertaken to help the youth and other Church members. Finding a job in the area is nearly impossible for teens. Even for their parents it’s hard. That makes for a difficult situation, and the members, like most in the area, struggle to support themselves.
So why are the members so happy?
Because they know the Lord loves them.
“We know Heavenly Father cares about us because the Church is helping so much to meet our needs,” says Makereta Elder, 14.
Stake leaders have felt inspired to begin a number of programs to help support the members, and the youth are a big part of making these programs work. Apart from the boat, there’s a greenhouse, a group of new welfare farms, and even some livestock. And the youth in Navatuyaba love helping.
One sound you don’t hear much in Navatuyaba is the low rumble of industrial farm equipment. That’s changing now that the tractor owned and operated by the stake is being kept in the village.
The 17 youth in the branch are grateful for the tractor. Without it, the Navatuyaba members would have to find a way to till two acres (0.8 ha) manually. But the tractor doesn’t do all the farm work. The members all work together planting, weeding, and harvesting crops such as taro and tapioca.
“We all help on the farm,” says Kuli Qaravanua, 15. “The youth weed and plant or bring refreshments when the adults are working.”
“I like working on the farm,” says Maca Baikeirewa, 14. “It helps my family in many ways.”
The blessings of the farm aren’t just about having food to eat. The youth are learning a lot about growing food and working hard.
“I think that working on the farm has brought the youth of our branch together,” says Tulia Tinaimolikula, 18. “It has helped us learn about each other.”
But, as Kuli says, “the tractor and farm especially help us have peace of mind. I don’t have to worry about what I will have to eat tomorrow.”
As enjoyable as working together on the crops is, it’s not nearly as much fun for the youth as helping with the pigs and chickens.
The branch started out with 120 chicks, 64 chickens, and four pigs but will be expanding the chicken coop. The animals will be split between the branch and stake members. Some will be sold, some will be eaten, but they’re as much entertainment as anything else.
The chicks are cute and feeding the pigs can be fun, but the youth have learned by experience how difficult it can be to catch a pig that doesn’t want to be caught.
When the topic of the Church welfare program comes up in some countries, many youth tune it out because they don’t think it has much to do with them. For the youth of Navatuyaba, Church welfare is changing their lives through pigs and tractors, chickens and farming.
Even the boat is more than just a way to get safely across the river. By charging a few cents per passenger, the branch can pay Litiana’s family to maintain the boat. She and her siblings take shifts answering the whistle from the other side of the river whenever someone needs a ride.
“It has blessed my family,” Litiana says, smiling. “It helps us afford school supplies and food. And we pay tithing on what we earn.”

Many years ago one of our children was noticeably distressed. I stepped into her bedroom, where she opened up her heart and explained to me that she had been at a friend’s home and had accidentally seen startling and disturbing images and actions on the television between a man and a woman without clothing. She began sobbing and expressed how horrible she felt about what she had seen and wished she could get it out of her mind. I was so grateful that she would confide in me, giving me a chance to soothe her innocent and aching heart and help her know how to get relief through our Savior’s Atonement. I remember the sacred feelings I had as we knelt together, as mother and daughter, and petitioned the help of our Heavenly Father.

While attending a sacrament meeting during the summer months, I was fortunate to hear messages from three students who were home from school for the summer. One of the talks especially interested me.
She had been working during the summer recess in a restaurant frequented by truck drivers. One driver who had a regular run stopped at the restaurant on the same day each week to eat. The regularity of the stop created an opportunity for short visits. He asked the young lady where she lived. She reported that she was home for the summer to earn money to return to school in the fall. His next question was, “Where do you attend school?” Her answer with pride: “BYU–Idaho.” He wanted to know more about the school, which led to a gospel discussion. Her first approach was to teach him about the Word of Wisdom. She was successful. She convinced him to give up smoking.
Then her shift was changed, and she no longer had the opportunity to serve him, so she wrote him a note and enclosed a Church missionary tract about the plan of salvation. After several days she received a note from the driver. It simply stated, “You’ve created a monster.” Thanks to this young woman he had found information which caused him to think about the changes he must make in his life. I do not know the full outcome of this little encounter between a waitress and a truck driver, but clearly his life was affected.

Many years ago I was driving along University Avenue near the mouth of Provo Canyon when I saw ahead of me the traffic slowing down. Up ahead there were police cars with their lights flashing, a fire truck, and several search and rescue vehicles all huddled together, blocking the road into Provo Canyon. At first I was annoyed since it seemed like we might be there for a long time. I was also curious—what was causing all the commotion?
As I looked up the rock face along the east side of the entrance to Provo Canyon, I saw some men climbing. I assumed they were the search and rescue people. What were they climbing to? Eventually I saw it. Somehow a ewe, a lost sheep, had made her way about 25 feet (8 m) up the rock face, and she was stranded there. She was not a mountain goat or mountain sheep, just a white ewe separated from a shepherd’s flock.
As I had nothing else to do, I searched the rock face for a way up to where the ewe stood. I could not for the life of me figure out how she ever got there. Nevertheless, she was there, and all the commotion in front of me was focused on her rescue. To this day, I don’t know the end of the story since the police figured out a way to get the traffic moving again.
As I drove away, a concern bothered me. While the search and rescue personnel were certainly well intentioned, how would the ewe react to them? I’m sure they had a plan for how they would calm her—perhaps they would shoot her with a tranquilizer dart from a close distance so they could catch her before she fell. Knowing nothing of their plan but knowing a little about how animals react to being cornered by strangers, I worried about the feasibility of their rescue effort. And then I wondered, “Where is the shepherd?” Certainly he would have the best chance of approaching the ewe without alarming her. The shepherd’s calming voice and helping hand were what the situation needed, but he seemed to be missing in action.
As members of the Church, sometimes we seem to be missing in action, just like this shepherd. Consider for a moment what President Monson told the newly called mission presidents at the 2008 seminar for new mission presidents. He said: “There is … no substitute for a member-oriented proselyting program. Tracting will not substitute for it. Golden questions will not substitute for it. A member-oriented program is the key to success, and it works wherever we try it” (“Motivating Missionaries,” June 22, 2008, 8).
Viewed in this light, member missionaries—both you and I—are the shepherds, and the full-time missionaries, like the search and rescue team, are trying to do something almost impossible for them to do alone. Certainly the full-time missionaries will continue to do the best they can, but wouldn’t it be better if you and I stepped up to do a job that is rightfully ours and for which we are better suited since we know personally those who are lost and need to be rescued?
I would like to focus on three objectives for members of the Church found in the Doctrine and Covenants. Each of these encourages us not to be missing in action when friends, neighbors, and family members need our help. This should include those who have fallen away, the less active. All of us should be better member missionaries.
In section 88, verse 81 of the Doctrine and Covenants, we read, “And it becometh every man who hath been warned to warn his neighbor.” I have had the privilege of traveling to many of the stakes of the Church to encourage the growth and development of ward missions. It has been a very rewarding and spiritual experience for me. I have discovered in these travels, and a recent survey has confirmed the fact, that over one-half of the people in the United States and Canada have little or no awareness of our practices and beliefs. I am certain the percentage would be much larger in other parts of the world. This same survey also showed that when nonmembers interact with faithful members of the Church over an extended period of time or are exposed to clear and accurate information regarding Church beliefs and doctrines, their attitudes become positive and open.
The Church has over 50,000 full-time missionaries serving around the world. Preach My Gospel has helped make them the best teachers of the gospel of Jesus Christ we have ever had in the history of the Church. Unfortunately most of our full-time missionaries spend more of their time trying to find people rather than teaching them. I view our full-time missionaries as an underutilized teaching resource. If you and I did more of the finding for the full-time missionaries and freed them up to spend more time teaching the people we find, great things would begin to happen. We’re missing a golden opportunity to grow the Church when we wait for our full-time missionaries to warn our neighbors instead of doing it ourselves.
It should be “with great earnestness” (D&C 123:14) that we bring the light of the gospel to those who are searching for answers the plan of salvation has to offer. Many are concerned for their families. Some are looking for security in a world of changing values. Our opportunity is to give them hope and courage and to invite them to come with us and join those who embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ. The Lord’s gospel is on earth and will bless their lives here and in the eternities to come.
The gospel is centered on the Atonement of our Lord and Savior. The Atonement provides the power to wash away sins, to heal, and to grant eternal life. All the imponderable blessings of the Atonement can be given only to those who live the principles and receive the ordinances of the gospel—faith in Jesus Christ, repentance, baptism, receiving the Holy Ghost, and enduring to the end. Our great missionary message to the world is that all mankind is invited to be rescued and to enter the fold of the Good Shepherd, even Jesus Christ.
Our missionary message is strengthened by the knowledge of the Restoration. We know that God speaks to His prophets today, just as He did anciently. We also know that His gospel is administered with the power and authority of the restored priesthood. No other message has such great, eternal significance to everyone living on the earth today. All of us need to teach this message to others with power and conviction. It is the still, small voice of the Holy Ghost that testifies through us of the miracle of the Restoration, but first we must open our mouths and testify. We must warn our neighbors.
This leads me to the second scripture I want to share with you from the Doctrine and Covenants. While verse 81 of section 88 teaches us that missionary work becomes the responsibility of each of us as soon as we have been warned, verses 7–10 of section 33 teach us to open our mouths.
Verse 7 leaves no doubt in anyone’s mind who has memorized section 4 of the Doctrine and Covenants that the Lord is talking to us about missionary work: “Yea, verily, verily, I say unto you, that the field is white already to harvest; wherefore, thrust in your sickles, and reap with all your might, mind, and strength.”
Then comes the injunction—three times—to open our mouths:
“Open your mouths and they shall be filled, and you shall become even as Nephi of old, who journeyed from Jerusalem in the wilderness.
“Yea, open your mouths and spare not, and you shall be laden with sheaves upon your backs, for lo, I am with you.
“Yea, open your mouths and they shall be filled, saying: Repent, repent, and prepare ye the way of the Lord, and make his paths straight; for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” (vv. 8–10).
What would each of us say if we had to open our mouth three times? If I may, I would like to offer a suggestion. First and foremost, we should declare our belief in Jesus Christ and His Atonement. His redeeming act blesses all mankind with the gift of immortality and the potential of enjoying God’s greatest gift to man, the gift of eternal life.
The second time we open our mouths, we should tell in our own words the story of the First Vision—that is, our knowledge of a boy not quite 15 years of age who went into a grove of trees and, after sincere and humble prayer, had the heavens open to him. After centuries of confusion, the true nature of the Godhead and God’s true teachings were revealed to the world.
The third time we open our mouths, let us testify of the Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ. The Book of Mormon complements the Bible in giving us a greater understanding of the doctrines of our Savior’s gospel. The Book of Mormon is the convincing evidence that Joseph Smith is truly a prophet of God. If the Book of Mormon is true, there was a restoration of the priesthood. If the Book of Mormon is true, then with the power of that priesthood, Joseph Smith restored the Church of Jesus Christ.
I have just concluded the book of Alma in my current reading of the Book of Mormon. Near the close of Alma’s great message to the Church in Zarahemla, he said:
“For what shepherd is there among you having many sheep doth not watch over them, that the wolves enter not and devour his flock? And behold, if a wolf enter his flock doth he not drive him out? Yea, and at the last, if he can, he will destroy him.
“And now I say unto you that the good shepherd doth call after you; and if you will hearken unto his voice he will bring you into his fold, and ye are his sheep; and he commandeth you that ye suffer no ravenous wolf to enter among you, that ye may not be destroyed” (Alma 5:59–60).
The Savior is the Good Shepherd, and we are all called to His service. The ewe on the side of the rock face along the entry to Provo Canyon and these words of Alma remind me of the question the Savior asked in the 15th chapter of Luke: “What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it?” (v. 4).
Usually when I think of herding sheep, I think of the requirement, or stewardship, of the shepherd to do everything he can for all of his sheep. This experience, however, reminded me that it is the parable of the lost sheep, and my thoughts turned to the precarious nature of that one lost ewe, all alone and unable to take another step up the rock face and equally unable to turn around and find her way down. How frantic and hopeless she must have felt, completely powerless to rescue herself, one step away from certain disaster.
It is important for each of us to ponder how it feels to be lost and what it means to be a “spiritual” shepherd who will leave the 99 to find the one who is lost. Such shepherds may need the expertise and assistance of the search and rescue team, but they are present, accounted for, and climbing right beside them to save those who are infinitely valued in the sight of God, for they are His children. Such shepherds respond to the final injunction to be a member missionary that I want to share with you from the Doctrine and Covenants:
“And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!
“And now, if your joy will be great with one soul that you have brought unto me into the kingdom of my Father, how great will be your joy if you should bring many souls unto me!” (D&C 18:15–16).
As the scripture also teaches, such shepherds experience inexpressible joy. I bear witness to this fact in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Tommy walked over and sat down on an upturned bucket. He picked up two spark plugs and rolled them around in his hands. “I always went to church before my dad died,” he began. “I was eleven when he died. After that we were really poor, so I didn’t have anything nice to wear. I went to church anyway, but I was worried that the kids would make fun of me. Well, they didn’t—at least not at first. Then one Sunday I had to wear my dad’s big, old dress shoes. They were all I had except my work boots, and I couldn’t wear them to church. I was worried about going to church that day, but I went. That was the last time.”
“Did they make fun of your shoes?”
Tommy nodded. “I decided then that I’d never go back. I never have.”
For a long time neither one of us said anything. I felt real bad, and I wished that I had been with Tommy when he was a boy so I could have helped him out. But I wasn’t even born then.
“People wouldn’t laugh at you now, Tommy,” I said. “I know they wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let them.”
Later I told Dad about my conversation with Tommy. We decided to stop every Sunday on our way to church and ask Tommy to come with us. But he never went with us. He just smiled and called, “No thanks. Not today.”
Then one Sunday my Primary teacher, Sister Poulsen, talked about missions and how we were all supposed to prepare for our missions. She said that when we grew up we might even get sent to Russia or Africa or India. It sounded exciting, and I was ready to go right then, even if I wasn’t nineteen yet. Then I remembered Tommy, and I thought, How can I preach to the people in Russia or China when I can’t even get my best friend to go to church?
Each Sunday Dad and I stopped by for Tommy, and I prayed for him, too, but he still didn’t come to church. I thought I was doing all that I could, but deep inside I knew I hadn’t done quite enough.
For our Primary sacrament meeting we had learned songs like “I Hope They Call Me on a Mission,” and I had to give a little talk about saving money for my mission. As we were practicing our parts before sacrament meeting the day of our program, I knew there was no way I could sing those songs and say my talk while Tommy was in his garage working.
I slipped over to my mom, who was a Primary teacher, and told her what I was going to do. Then I ran the two blocks to Tommy’s house. I was panting and puffing when I ran up Tommy’s driveway, and I could hear him pounding on something inside the garage. When I stepped inside, he stopped pounding and asked, “What are you doing here, Jared? Aren’t you supposed to be in church? I thought you were singing in a program today.”
I stared at his greasy hands and dirty pants and messy hair. I looked away from him and mumbled, “I came to get you, Tommy. I had to.”
“What?”
“Aren’t we best friends, Tommy?”
“Why sure. You know that.”
“Then I need you to be there. I can’t sing those songs and say my talk unless you’re there. It just isn’t right. I thought I could do it without you, but now I know that I can’t.”
“Well, Jared, I’m not dressed, and I’m all dirty and greasy.”
“I can wait for you. If you hurry, we can make it.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been to church for years …”
I could tell he was thinking about it, so I started talking really fast. “You just have to, Tommy, because I need you there. Just this once, so you can hear my program, and then if you don’t want to ever go back, well, then … But I know you’ll like it, and you’ll want to go all the time.”
He put his tools away and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “It’s been a long time, Jared. I just don’t think—”
“You can sit with me,” I interrupted, “except when I sing. Then I have to go up front. But if you’re afraid to sit alone, I’ll stay right with you, because they don’t really need me to sing.”
Tommy smiled. “Do you really want me to go that badly?” he asked.
I could feel my eyes start to burn. I looked at the ground and nodded my head because I couldn’t say anything.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Tommy was going to church! I was so excited I wanted to yell. Then I got scared. What if somebody laughed at Tommy? What if nobody talked to him? What if he got upset and decided never to go back?
I started to shake, and my stomach got all fluffy and full of tickles. There was only one thing I could do. I found a clean old blanket and knelt down on it and prayed, “Heavenly Father, I know You want Tommy to go to church, and I want him to go too. But I need some help. I invited him, and he’s going, but somebody’s got to tell the people at church not to laugh at him or make him feel bad. I can’t do that part, but You can. Help them to love Tommy as much as I do. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Pretty soon Tommy came back wearing a clean shirt and pants, and his hands were washed and his hair was combed. As we walked to church, I could tell that he was worried and scared because he didn’t talk much and he kept putting his hands in his pockets and taking them out again. I was scared, too—maybe more than Tommy—but I didn’t tell him that. I just took his hand when we went into the church.
Everything was quiet when we walked in. The chapel was full, and Bishop Call was just starting to welcome everyone to sacrament meeting. I saw room for us right next to Mom and Dad, so I pulled him over there as fast as I could.
I was so scared that I didn’t dare look at anyone. Then Dad reached over and shook Tommy’s hand and whispered, “It’s good to see you, Tommy.” Brother Baker leaned over my shoulder and whispered, “Brother Wilson, good to have you here.” Brother and Sister Roberts, who were sitting in front of us, turned around and smiled. After that I wasn’t scared any more, because I knew Heavenly Father had answered my prayer.
I remembered all of my talk without looking at my paper or down at Mom. And when I sang “I Hope They Call Me on a Mission,” I sang as loud as I could, because I was ready to go.
After the closing prayer, I tried to hurry back to my seat so that Tommy wouldn’t be alone, but I didn’t have to. By the time I got to Tommy, he was surrounded by people. Why, it looked like the whole ward wanted to shake his hand!
It was a long time after the meeting ended before Tommy and I started home. We didn’t say anything until we stopped in front of his house; then I asked, “Can I pick you up next Sunday? I don’t have to sing or do anything special, but I’d sure like you to come.”
Tommy’s eyes were all watery, and he rubbed them with the back of his hand. “No, Jared, I won’t let you stop for me next Sunday.”
I couldn’t believe it! I thought he had liked going to church. I didn’t know what to say.
Then Tommy said, “Next week I’ll take you to church.”
Tommy didn’t work in his garage on Sundays after that, because every Sunday he went to church. And when I’m old enough, I can go to India or Russia or any other place and feel good about preaching the gospel to all those strangers because now my best friend goes to church.