Gospel Story Finder

Bright and early on the last day of camp, about 30 young men chose to compete in the “Iron Warrior Competition.” Participants swam one mile in Lake Allatoona and then ran two miles through the woods. Like other activities at camp, this one could be used to fulfill both Scouting and Duty to God requirements.
At the beginning of the year the boys received the challenge to read the Book of Mormon. If a young man completed both the Iron Warrior Competition and read the entire Book of Mormon by the end of Scout camp, he received the Captain Moroni award—a five-foot high metal sculpture of a man in armor. “It was taller than I am!” says Max Carter, a deacon from the Mars Hill Ward who earned the Captain Moroni award. “The Iron Warrior Competition was hard. I was just happy to accomplish it.”

My brain was fried! I had read one page in my history book three times without remembering one thing that was written. It was well after midnight when I rubbed my burning eyes and slammed the book shut. I wanted to do well on my final test, but the time had come to give up studying because nothing else was going into my throbbing head.
I set my history book down and picked up a different book of history. The familiar soft brown leather of my Book of Mormon felt soothing as I opened to Alma to do my nightly reading. I was not expecting to learn anything in this frame of mind, but to my complete surprise my pounding headache ceased and I felt a warm comforting peace envelop my body.
My mind was calm and alert. The words were clear and easy to understand. It was as though my kind Heavenly Father were speaking directly to me.

When I finished high school, I signed up for a year’s service in the Ecuadorian army. As I packed my belongings, I included a copy of the Book of Mormon and the hymnbook. At that time, I didn’t realize how much that Book of Mormon was going to affect my life.
I was assigned to a company of 104 young men, and after watching their behavior, I guessed I was the only Latter-day Saint. I wanted to be a good example, so I tried to give my best effort to any task I was assigned.
It was almost impossible to find time to read the scriptures. We had only 15 minutes to get ready for lunch and half an hour at night for free time. I spent that time reading the Book of Mormon.
I didn’t realize people were watching me, but they soon found out I was a member of the Church. At first they made fun of me, but I knew their words couldn’t hurt me. Each day I tried to apply what I had read in the Book of Mormon.
One day as I was reading, I was impressed by 3 Nephi 12:16: “Therefore let your light so shine before this people, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in heaven.” I asked Heavenly Father to help me be an example to others. In time, I gained the respect of the men in my company and the officers.

As a boy, I had many interesting experiences with my father’s father. He didn’t have much schooling but was a very wise and good man. He was a superb carpenter and painter, and I can remember spending time with him painting. I thought I was learning to paint, but actually I was learning lessons that were even more important.
My grandfather often told me about the blessings that come from the payment of tithing. Two of his children, my father and my uncle, served missions during the Great Depression, when many people couldn’t afford to go on missions. It was quite an unusual thing to have two sons on a mission. Grandfather, who didn’t ever have much money, used to bear his testimony that his sons were able to serve missions because they always paid their tithing. He said, “I wouldn’t know how we’d make it at times; then somebody would call me and ask me to build a set of steps for them or paint their house or something like that.” I’ve wondered how many of those sets of steps really needed to be built. I’m sure Grandfather would not have taken a handout.
Grandfather thought that the payment of tithing was not only a duty but an opportunity. Shortly before his death I heard him bear his testimony, in a matter-of-fact but very direct way, that blessings come through the faithful payment of tithing. I’ve always considered it a privilege to pay my tithing, and I’ve seen the blessings that have come into people’s lives through living this principle.

A few years back a youth sacrament meeting speaker invited those who weren’t sure they felt God’s love to pray and ask whether Heavenly Father loves them.
I took that invitation to heart. Unbeknownst to me, my older sister also decided to do it. We each prayed individually that night. Months later we shared our experiences with one another. I told her how some time after praying, I’d allowed my mind to wander, eventually recalling a poem I had read about the Savior’s love. I had been overwhelmed by the Spirit, and I had felt of the joy of both my Heavenly Father’s and Savior’s love for me. Tears of joy had crept to my eyes, and I had again folded my arms, this time in a prayer of gratitude.
My sister, however, recollected to me that she felt as if she hadn’t received an answer like I had—no enlightening moment or warmth from the Spirit. At first she was disappointed. But in time, she came to realize that she didn’t need an answer like mine: she already knew. And that was her answer.
Do not be discouraged if an answer to a prayer is not what you want or are expecting. Everyone is different, and Heavenly Father can answer the question in different ways, but He does answer prayers.
Because I have pondered Heavenly Father’s love, I know that if we “ask God … with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ,” that “he will manifest the truth of it unto [us], by the power of the Holy Ghost. And by the power of the Holy Ghost [we] may know the truth of all things” (Moroni 10:4–5).

From a very early age, I became appreciative of cultures and people. On my first day as a fourth grader in Niles, I was told that our school had religious instruction for all students. Everyone went to either the Protestant section or the Catholic section. I didn’t think I was either one, but I went with the Protestants and enjoyed singing those old hymns. Later, I had a good Jewish friend all through high school. I liked athletics and became very close friends with many black and Hispanic boys through sports.
I later served a mission to Chile. Following my mission, I attended the University of Madrid in Spain. I lived in a pensión (boarding house) with about twelve or thirteen other students from various parts of Spain. Because of my experiences, I have always been very interested in studying cultures and have come to appreciate all of them.

I grew up in another religion and believed I was in the right church. My aunt and uncle’s family were Latter-day Saints, but I didn’t really understand their faith and didn’t try to. Then in 1996 my aunt telephoned me and asked if I wanted to go to a youth camp at Brigham Young University. Being only 14, I didn’t want to go but agreed to anyway.
At first I felt out of place because I was different. Then I met up with my cousin, Adam. He was friendly and included me in everything. The week went great.
On Thursday evening, we were in our room when Adam began to ask me about my beliefs.
I was happy to share but could not answer a lot of his questions. I asked him if he knew the answers. He told me about our premortal life and how God has a plan for us. He told me about how the early Church members fell into apostasy and how the gospel was restored through the Prophet Joseph Smith. He told me how the Book of Mormon came forth.
We talked for about two hours. It sounded awesome, but I had my doubts. Adam told me to pray to God and ask Him if the Church was true. So I waited until Adam was asleep and did just that.
The next morning, I woke up feeling peaceful and happy. I felt the Church was true, but I didn’t say anything.
Adam gave me a Book of Mormon, and I went back home to St. Louis, Missouri. I was scared to tell my family and go forward with something so big, and I soon lost the spiritual feeling I had come home with. I put my copy of the Book of Mormon in my closet.
Six years later, after a lot of tough times and losing interest in my religion, I felt the need to find the right church. I visited different churches but never felt that I had found the right one. I just about gave up hope.
One day I was cleaning my closet, and buried deep down was that Book of Mormon. This time I read it. While reading I remembered that night at youth camp and what I had felt. I called my uncle and aunt and asked if I could go to church with them.
There I met the missionaries and began taking the discussions. Four months and four missionaries later, I was baptized.
It has been almost three years since my baptism. I recently returned from serving a mission in the Belgium Brussels/Netherlands Mission, where I followed my cousin Adam’s example and testified of the Restoration of Christ’s true Church and gospel.
How remarkable and powerful are the seeds that people plant in others.

The island, Frøya (say Freh-ya), is sparsely inhabited, home of fishing villages, salmon farms, and marine biology research stations. It is also the birthplace of an Apostle. Here, in 1872, John Andreas Widtsoe was born. Later, his widowed mother moved with her children to Trondheim and joined the Church. When John was 11, the family moved to Utah, where he became a great educator and served for 31 years as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve.
“The youth know a little bit about Elder Widtsoe,” says Branch President Arne Dahlø, who organized the trip. “Mostly they know he was somebody important, that he was born on Frøya and lived in Trondheim. But he’s part of our heritage as Norwegian Latter-day Saints. We live where he lived. We ought to know what he did.”
By the time the ferry docks, the light is fading. The youth and their leaders pile quickly into cars. They drive over rough, bumpy roads to the far end of the island, where President Dahlø, a university professor who often does research here, has arranged for two buildings in which the group can stay.
On the rocky shore of an inlet, a young man yells, “Let’s get it started.” Soon a small flame grows bigger, the wood pops as it burns, and the sparks become dancers leaping through the night. The warmth of the flame takes the edge off the cool, salty air. It’s time for a “sausage roast,” the cooking of hotdogs over a campfire.
And like anybody around a campfire, the young people here sing, tell stories, and talk.
“We know a lot about Trondheim, the city where we live,” says Kjetil Bakkland, 13. “It used to be the capital of Norway. it has neat old buildings down by the river; it has a university and a cathedral. But Frøya, what’s it got? Mostly rocks, I think.”
The others laugh, but President Dahlø talks seriously for a minute. “We live in a wonderful city, it’s true,” he says. “But Frøya is a wonderful place, too.” And he talks about life in the villages, about flowers that grow among the rocks, about the incessant, pounding crash of the sea. “Elder Widtsoe knew about that,” he says. “He said you could hear the ocean in every room of his house, that it beat on his memory all through his life” (see In a Sunlit Land, Salt Lake City: Deseret News Press, 1952, p. 1).
Talk of the ocean and of storms invites comparisons with life and its storms. “I’ve been a member one year and one week today,” says Sonja Sivertsvik, 19. “I like it, but it’s hard to be a Mormon in Trondheim, because everyone says, ‘Oh, Mormons! You’re the ones with lots of wives!’ Or you get Christians who try to tell you you’re not Christian. There are lots of misconceptions about the Church, so to be a member here is not always popular.”
“But it’s not always what’s easy that’s best,” says Kristin Davik, the branch Young Women president. “You have to follow the deepest part of you, your conscience. You may meet hard times, but you have to be yourself.”
“All your friends won’t have the same standards you do,” says Lars-Petter M. Bedin, 15. “They’ll have other ideas about alcohol, smoking, chastity. But it’s really not a problem unless you make it a problem. I’m the only member in my family, but I’m happy to be in the Church. It’s one of the greatest things in my life.”
What they’re really talking about is growing, growing even when it’s difficult. The youth may not know it, but they’re talking about things Elder Widtsoe would understand. One of his educational specialties dealt with agriculture. He was an international authority on how to help things grow in a harsh climate.
The next morning dawns wet and gray, as it often does on Frøya. No matter. There’s much to do—first, a meeting with the mayor of one of the towns, then a visit to a monument erected in Elder Widtsoe’s honor, then a trip to the house where he was born and to a church built by his father.
It’s a morning of driving on unmarked roads, of hiking slippery hills, and of pleasant surprises—like finding the mayor already knows quite a bit about John A. Widtsoe, and that the local ship builder would love to have the youth visit his shop.
But mostly it’s a continuation of the journey of self-discovery. As President Dahlø tells some of the youth on top of the hill where the monument to Elder Widtsoe stands, this is like being in a time machine.
“You’re looking back,” he says, “and seeing the origins of a man who went on to do great things for the Church. He didn’t come from someplace famous. His father died when he was young. His mother learned about the Church when a member put some pamphlets inside shoes she was having repaired. But he loved God and he wanted to serve, and Heavenly Father provided a way.
“You can also look forward, and see the future of the Church in Norway,” President Dahlø continues. “And you all have a great part to play in that. It doesn’t matter where you come from or how hard you think things may be. What matters is whether or not you love the Lord, whether or not you want to serve. If you have the desire, God will provide the way.”
It is later in the afternoon now. The youth of the Trondheim First Branch are waiting, looking out to sea, hoping to catch a glimpse of the ferry. Soon it will appear on the line where the gray water and the gray sky meet. The ferry is coming to take them home. But even as they wait, even as they throw rocks in the water and look for sea urchins down by the pier, these young people seem a little bit different than they did before their journey to the island.
The lesson of this harsh land is that good things can grow here. That’s a lesson they’ll remember when they’re back in Trondheim, the next time the waves and winds of life try to beat them down. Here on Frøya, where they have come to look at the past, they have also glimpsed the future. It’s a future that, thanks to the gospel, can be bright indeed.

One day his aunt, a newly baptized Latter-day Saint, introduced his family to the missionaries. Soon the Liaos family joined the Church. “We were active for about a year,” Domingos says. “Then my parents stopped going. I kept on for a while; then I started to play cricket on Sundays. But my conscience kept nagging me that I should be in church.”
It was at this time that Domingos’s grandfather, who lived in Melbourne, suffered a stroke. He wasn’t expected to live. Domingos, 16, felt compelled to pray. “I told Heavenly Father that if he would give Grandfather a chance, I would devote my life to the Church. But I didn’t just wait for him to recover. When we returned home, I returned to church. I’ve been taught that if you promise something, you should do it.”
Grandpa did get better. And by the time he did, Domingos was going to church, not just to keep a promise, but because he truly believed it was the right thing to do.

Janelle Miller of Huntington, Indiana, has many responsibilities and has managed to succeed in many ways.
Janelle is an excellent student and is ranked close to the top in her class at school. she is active in her school’s performing choir group both singing and playing the piano. She also teaches piano lessons to her younger brothers and sisters.
In addition, Janelle serves as class president in her early-morning seminary class. Plus she plays on her ward’s softball team and coaches her younger sister’s team.
But what makes Janelle particularly outstanding is the way she cares for her younger brothers and sister when her mother is ill. Her mother has a degenerative disease that often requires hospitalization. During those times Janelle takes over completely caring for the family’s daily needs.

Janean spent the day working with Lottie Dayton, putting size labels on clothing and hanging apparel on racks.
“If I weren’t here today, I’d just be sitting home, or maybe riding my horse,” Janean said. “This is more important—it’s more important to serve the Lord than to serve yourself. That’s what Christmas is all about, helping others. We had to put priorities in order. Sure, it was hard to squeeze everything in, especially when we were trying to do Christmas shopping of our own. But we were excited to come down here, and she’s so sweet …”
Her voice trailed off as she looked over at Sister Dayton, who was still hanging things on the rack as she softly hummed “Where Love Is.”
As young and old labored amid clothing baling machines, steam tunnels (used to remove wrinkles from clothing), label racks, and sorting tables, the workshop did turn out some Christmas magic after all. By the end of each shift, there were no young and old, no handicapped and nonhandicapped, just friends, co-workers, and fellow Saints.
The same spirit prevailed at a Christmas party ten days later.
“We brought all the workers to the stake center,” Nan Brian of the Uintah First Ward explained. “When they got there, we gave each one an ornament with his name and the name of one of the kids in the stake who had worked with him printed on it. Then we did all we could to make them realize we are their friends.”
That included a program of carols, stories, a visit from Santa Claus, and of course, the true story of the birth of Christ as recorded in the scriptures.
As the workers were escorted home and the youth of the Weber Stake returned to their final holiday preparations, there was a warmth and a glow about both groups. Some had learned that others still cared, and some had learned that caring is the solid foundation of December’s glorious celebration.

When I was a student at the University of Vienna in Austria, two missionaries came to my door, saying, “We have a message for you from God.” I invited them in, wondering why I did so because I didn’t have any interest in religion. Deeply affected by the Hungarian Revolution of 1956—which sent thousands of refugees streaming into Austria—I had been seeking to know the meaning of life. But I didn’t expect to find the answer in any church.
The message of these missionaries was the message of the Restoration. I think I loved the Prophet Joseph Smith from the first moment I heard about him. I was especially touched by the circumstances of his Martyrdom. Later, as I spent time reading the Book of Mormon and praying, I received through the power of the Holy Ghost a joyful, peaceful assurance that Jesus is the Christ, that Joseph Smith was the Prophet of the Restoration, and that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the Lord’s restored Church on the earth, led by living prophets who prepare the world for His Second Coming.

When I returned to the Czech Republic from Utah, I was the only member of the Church not just in my town, Chrastava (population 8,000), but also in Liberec (population 120,000), a city about six miles (10 km) from Chrastava. I worked as a hotel receptionist and taught English in a private high school. I was desperately seeking to find my new place at home. I was close to giving up. Nevertheless, I continued to kneel every night and pray for a miracle that would bring me out of my despair. I also tried very hard to stay away from my old habits and friends.
Finally my prayers were answered. The missionaries came to Liberec, where I was teaching. (I later learned that Brother Hodson had contacted the mission president for the Czech Republic and told him about me. Now there is a growing branch of about 40 Latter-day Saints in my hometown.)

I will never forget walking the grounds at Winter Quarters, Nebraska, USA, where pioneers had lived years before. The ground felt sacred, almost as if I were visiting an outdoor temple.
My eyes filled with tears, blurring my vision. I saw a statue but could not make out the figures. When I wiped away my tears, I saw a man and a woman whose faces were full of grief. As I looked closer, I saw the figure of an infant lying in a grave at their feet.
This sight filled me with so many emotions: sadness, anger, gratitude, and joy. I wanted to take away the pain those Saints felt, but I was grateful at the same time for what they had sacrificed for the gospel.
My experience at Winter Quarters helped me realize that Heavenly Father gives the gospel to His children and allows them the agency to do with it as they will. The parents of that baby could have chosen to take an easier course. Following the prophet and living the gospel required these pioneers to press forward even when it meant burying their child. But they chose to take the gospel into their lives and accepted their challenges. I learned that the Saints’ dedication to the gospel and their determination to press forward were driven by faith and hope—hope for a bright future and faith that the Lord knew them and could ease their pain.

In the September 1971 issue there appeared an article devoted to politics and why each Latter-day Saint has an obligation to become involved and see that capable men get elected to public office.
From my experience as administrative assistant and former campaign manager to California State Assemblyman Alister McAlister (also a member of the Church), I would like to make some suggestions as to how easy it is to become involved.
My own experiences in getting involved in politics form a pattern that many youth could duplicate. I graduated recently from San Jose State College in public relations but knew nothing of politics. I asked myself what type of work I wanted to do and decided that politics sounded interesting and rewarding, so I called my party’s local headquarters and asked who was running for office in my area.
At the time, I was editing the ward newspaper of Stanford Ward and was at the printer’s office checking some copy. I saw an issue of the San Jose Stake newspaper and noticed the name Alister McAlister. I remembered the name from my conversation with local headquarters. I called him that afternoon. Within a week I was his campaign manager. Of course, the first thing I did was to visit the library and take out some books on political campaigns.
Let me suggest what to do. First, in the U.S., if you are eighteen or older, you ought to pick a political party and register to vote. By reading newspapers and listening to radio and TV, you can find out what the leaders of the parties say, and this will give you an idea of where your views will be best represented.
In California many young people are not declaring any party affiliation, possibly because of not wanting to be tied to any party. Those who register as “decline to state” may be doing themselves a disservice because they are not allowed to vote in party primaries, thus not giving themselves an opportunity to choose the candidates who will run during the general election.
Registering to vote can be done in many places and takes no more than five minutes. Get information from your county’s registrar of voters.
Next, look for a candidate who will best represent your views. In doing so, if the candidate is already an elected official, check his voting record on issues of importance. Most major libraries keep copies of voting records. If you cannot find what you want, call your local representative’s office for help. If the candidate is not an office holder, check his past activities and the groups he belongs to, and sit down and discuss with him his views. Most aspiring candidates will be happy. to do this if they think they may get a good campaign worker as a result.
After you’ve picked a candidate, give him a call and express your desire to be of assistance. If he does not yet have a campaign office set up, call his party’s office and they’ll place you in contact with him. Chances are good, that you’ll be given duties immediately.
In Assemblyman McAllister’s victorious campaign, many young people were involved. The only qualifications required were a willingness to work and the possession of common sense. Duties for volunteers depend greatly upon the time they wish to donate. Assignments range from putting on major campaign dinners or assisting with advertising to stuffing envelopes and licking stamps. As campaign manager, I got to do my share of the mundane jobs as well as the important ones.
With some common sense and hard work you can make a difference in the election of a local official and give valued service and strength to state and national campaigns. I urge other Latter-day Saint youth to become involved as the Doctrine and Covenants instructs us to do.

Illustration by Allen Garns
I was skeptical when the missionaries taught me about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. My first thought was that Joseph Smith, like many other so-called “prophets,” may have brought a false book into the world seeking to become wealthy, famous, or heroic.
I had no intention of reading the Book of Mormon. But over time the missionaries’ friendship and their enthusiasm for the gospel allowed my curiosity toward their message to grow.
As I read the verses the missionaries gave me in the Book of Mormon, I found Moroni’s invitation to ask God with a sincere heart, real intent, and faith in Christ if the Book of Mormon is true (see Moroni 10:4–5). I thought, “Who, knowing the book was fake, would dare challenge us to ask God with real intent and sincerity if the Book of Mormon is true?”
Then one day the missionaries explained that Joseph Smith and his brother, Hyrum, were martyred for their testimony. Suddenly, a thought came to me that they would never have given up their own lives for something they knew was false. At that moment, a warm feeling, like a burning fire, spread through me. It was a witness of the Holy Spirit confirming to my heart that Joseph Smith was a true prophet. With this witness, I was baptized and confirmed.
I was reminded of this experience 25 years later when I read a talk by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. In his talk, Elder Holland asked if, in the critical moment of their martyrdom, Joseph and Hyrum would continue to blaspheme before God by fixing their lives, their honor, and their eternal salvation on a book they knew was false.
“They would not do that!” Elder Holland said. “They were willing to die rather than deny the divine origin and the eternal truthfulness of the Book of Mormon.”1
Elder Holland’s words made so much sense to me and further strengthened my testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith and the power of the Book of Mormon.
I am grateful for the Prophet Joseph Smith. He brought forth the Book of Mormon and willingly gave his life to be a witness of Jesus Christ. Through the Book of Mormon, I have come to know of God’s existence and of His love for me.

Michael Diaz looks past the long barrel of a heavy cannon and scans the choppy waters of Portobelo, Panama. If an attack on the stronghold and the gold it guarded were to come by sea, the attacking ships would have to survive heavy fire from more than a dozen cannons, and their sailors would have to get past soldiers manning two waterfront forts, including the one where Michael stands. Past battles were fierce and frightening.
Fortunately for Michael, no such battles have taken place in more than 250 years.
A lot has changed since then. But as he paces along the thick stone walls of the ruins, Michael, 15, isn’t thinking about cell phones, the Internet, or men walking on the moon. He and his friends from the Colón Panama Stake are talking about the changes they have seen in themselves thanks to the Duty to God program.
“I’ve learned a lot,” Michael says. The others nod in agreement. “I have more faith in myself. I don’t have to depend spiritually on others so much. I have the courage to talk to others about the Church.”
Built to be strong, the forts stood guard over Portobelo for more than 100 years, and their remains still stand today.
The strength of the Duty to God program, according to these young men, is found in setting and completing goals. Their goals are helping them build spiritual strongholds that will help them stand against whatever they will have to face in life.
“You live in a day of great challenges,” said the First Presidency. “You can strengthen yourself, building faith and testimony, living the gospel while you learn it and share it” (Aaronic Priesthood: Fulfilling Our Duty to God [2001], 4).
Aldo Cardenas of the Puerto Pilon Ward recalls a recent goal to organize a family home evening with his father’s help. “My dad gave me the theme of the priesthood and how important it is to our family. I learned a lot about the priesthood. It’s a great blessing to us and others through us.”
He’s grateful for the way the program works. “Having to follow through with the goals has helped me to be more responsible,” he says.
Narcisso Garay, 17, of the Barriada Kuna Ward decided to set a goal to read the Book of Mormon every day. “My parents suggested that I read the other scriptures too. Now I’ve almost finished the New Testament. At first I thought it was boring, but now I’ve seen what Jesus suffered for us, and I know that we can return to Him.”
Michael’s older brother Isaac says completing the goals he has set in the program has strengthened him spiritually. When Isaac was a teacher, he was the only active member in his quorum. Duty to God has not only helped him; it has also provided opportunities for him to get the three quorum members who didn’t attend regularly to come to some activities, and one of them has attended church.
“I tried to visit the others and invite them to come to church,” Isaac says. “That was my duty to God.”
Perched on top of a long-unused cannon, Michael can easily imagine defending the fort against the fierce attack of an enemy. But as he looks out to sea, he talks about strengthening himself against a different kind of attack—one without cannons and gunpowder.
“My friends at school sometimes make fun of me for belonging to the ‘church of Mormon,’” he says as the sun sets on Portobelo. But he’s not afraid to tell them, “I belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”

Many years ago, while serving as a bishop, I asked our ward council, “How could we become the most welcoming and friendly ward?” We counselled together on what it would be like to come to our ward for the first time. Who would greet us? Would someone sit with us? What would happen if we weren’t dressed correctly or were clearly struggling with an addiction to smoking? We talked about the Savior’s love and how we could ensure that those visiting our ward felt of that love. As we continued to counsel together, each member of the ward council considered and talked about the contribution they could make to help our ward become more welcoming and friendly. Together, we developed some ideas and as a ward council committed ourselves in the coming weeks to try to:
Personally shake hands with new members and investigators and help them feel welcome and comfortable.
Discuss ways of becoming a most welcoming and friendly ward in each auxiliary and quorum meeting.
Invite young men to be in the parking area before meetings to greet everyone and to provide assistance to anyone that needs help.
Invite young women to be greeters in the foyer and help all entering the building feel the Savior’s love.
Introduce new members and investigators to a member of the bishopric.
Welcome and recognise new members and investigators at classes, auxiliary, and priesthood meetings.
Avoid making any judgement of, or suggestions to, new investigators or returning members who are not dressed in normal church attire.
Make recommendations for callings and assignments to new members that will bless their lives and help them feel needed and learn and grow.
Assign ministering brothers and ministering sisters to care for new members.
Work shoulder-to-shoulder with full-time missionaries so that their investigators are connected and have ward member friends who love them as soon as they start attending church.
As the ward council continued to implement their ideas and to review progress, we quickly became a happier ward. As we learned together how to be welcoming and friendly, we all felt more loved and united. Church became a joyful experience, and people attending the ward for the first time felt like they were home.

One summer while traveling in a remote area, our family spent an evening sleeping outdoors under a cloudless sky. Clearly visible above us was the magnificent Milky Way, filled with innumerable stars and the occasional shooting star. While we marveled at the majesty of God’s creation, we felt a reverent connection to Him. Our young children, who had grown up in Hong Kong, had never experienced anything like this before. They innocently asked if we lived under the same sky back home. I tried to explain to them that it was the same sky, but air and light pollution where we lived prevented us from seeing these stars even though they were there.

I would like to focus on the first trait that describes them: “valiant for courage.” To me, this describes the conviction of these young men to courageously do what is right, or as Alma describes, “to stand as witnesses of God at all times … and in all places.”2 The 2,000 stripling soldiers had countless moments to demonstrate their courage. Each of you will also have defining moments in your life requiring courage. A friend of mine, John, shared with me one of those moments in his life.
Some years ago, John was accepted at a prestigious Japanese university. He would be part of the international student program with many other top students from around the world. Some enrolled with a hope to deepen their understanding of the culture and language, others viewed it as a stepping-stone to an eventual profession and employment in Japan, but all had left home to study in a foreign country.
Soon after John’s arrival, word of a party to be held on the rooftop of a private residence spread among the foreign student population. That evening, John and two friends made their way to the advertised address.
Following an elevator ride to the top floor of the building, John and his friends navigated the single narrow stairway leading to the rooftop and began mingling with the others. As the night wore on, the atmosphere changed. The noise, music volume, and alcohol amplified, as did John’s uneasiness. Then suddenly someone began organizing the students into a large circle with the intent of sharing marijuana cigarettes. John grimaced and quickly informed his two friends that it was time to leave. Almost in ridicule, one of them replied, “John, this is easy—we’ll just stand in the circle, and when it is our turn, we’ll just pass it along rather than smoke it. That way we won’t have to embarrass ourselves in front of everyone by leaving.” This sounded easy to John, but it did not sound right. He knew he had to announce his intention and act. In a moment he mustered his courage and told them that they could do as they wished, but he was leaving. One friend decided to stay and joined the circle; the other reluctantly followed John down the stairs to board the elevator. Much to their surprise, when the elevator doors opened, Japanese police officers poured out and hurried to ascend the stairs to the rooftop. John and his friend boarded the elevator and departed.
When the police appeared at the top of the stairs, the students quickly threw the illegal drugs off the roof so they wouldn’t be caught. After securing the stairway, however, the officers lined up everyone on the roof and asked each student to extend both hands. The officers then walked down the line, carefully smelling each student’s thumbs and index fingers. All who had held the marijuana, whether they had smoked it or not, were presumed guilty, and there were huge consequences. Almost without exception, the students who had remained on the rooftop were expelled from their respective universities, and those convicted of a crime were likely deported from Japan. Dreams of an education, years of preparation, and the possibility of future employment in Japan were dashed in a moment.
Now let me tell you what happened to these three friends. The friend who stayed on the roof was expelled from the university in Japan to which he had worked so hard to be accepted and was required to return home. The friend who left the party that night with John finished school in Japan and went on to earn degrees from two top-tier universities in the United States. His career took him back to Asia, where he has enjoyed immense professional success. He remains grateful to this day for John’s courageous example. As for John, the consequences in his life have been immeasurable. His time in Japan that year led him to a happy marriage and the subsequent birth of two sons. He has been a very successful businessman and recently became a professor at a Japanese university. Imagine how different his life would have been had he not had the courage to leave the party on that important evening in Japan.3