Gospel Story Finder

“Ssshhh!” warns one of the girls. “They’ll hear you.” She buttons the jacket of her hot-pink polyester jump suit, straightens the popcorn ball in her hair, and edges towards the house. But it’s no use. The group bursts into loud laughter again.
So much for a “secret” mission.
By this time the people in the house wonder what all the women are doing gathered on their porch. After all, it isn’t every day that 14 girls and their Young Women leaders come to visit, especially not dressed like this.
The girls are wearing neon polyester outfits. They’ve arranged tinfoil, popcorn balls and tacky fake flowers in their hair. To top it off, several girls are wearing curling irons as necklaces.
When a young woman opens the door to see what all the commotion is about, the group bursts into an enthusiastic, out-of-tune song. They sway to the music and slap their knees.
By the time the song is over the girl being visited is laughing hysterically. So is her family. The group gives the girl a plate of cookies, smothers her with hugs, and leaves as loudly as they came—another mission accomplished.

A few years ago our teenage son traveled a long way from home. Distance made communication so difficult that we could send him only a brief written message with this postscript: “Read Alma 37:35–37.” Here Alma says, “O, remember, my son, and learn wisdom in thy youth. … Cry unto God for all thy support; yea, … let the affections of thy heart be placed upon the Lord forever. … And he will direct thee for good.”
In his equally brief reply, our boy concluded: “Read D&C 2.” There we found Moroni’s words to Joseph Smith, promising that prior to the Lord’s coming, the priesthood will be revealed by the hand of Elijah, who “shall plant in the hearts of the children the promises made to the fathers, and the hearts of the children shall turn to their fathers.
“If it were not so, the whole earth would be utterly wasted at his coming” (D&C 2:2–3).
I was moved by his response. I wondered if he realized what deep nerves of meaning he was touching. He reflected his acceptance of the fifth commandment, to “honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee” (Ex. 20:12).
Moroni’s adaptation of Malachi’s prophecy (see Mal. 4:5–6) extends the spirit and promise of the fifth commandment far beyond simply showing respect for parents, as important as that is. Moroni promised that the spirit of Elijah—the priesthood power that seals families together—would plant in the hearts of the children a desire to realize the same promises the Lord gave to Abraham. For many Latter-day Saint children, those are the promises made to their own earthly parents in the temple. And the realization of these promised blessings will save not only them but the “whole earth” from being “wasted.”
How miraculous, literally, that a thirst, even a yearning, for these marvelous blessings can take root in the hearts of our children! I suspect that many parents in the Church pray every night, as we do, that this hunger will be planted in the hearts of their children.
To explain why I was so stirred by our son’s response, I must share a story about his older brother, born shortly after my father’s death. We gave this older son his grandfather’s name as a middle name. He felt awkward about that old-fashioned name in his early years and didn’t use it. But when he took up debate in high school and learned that his grandfather had been a champion debater in the 1920s, he began feeling a tie to his namesake. My father had kept a personal journal during much of his adult life, and one day I showed my son an entry describing his grandfather’s big debate. I left that journal with him, hoping he would read it.
He was a good boy, but he wasn’t easy to rear. We prayed for patience. We prayed that the seeds of faith would take root in his heart, but we knew we couldn’t force that process. I thought during those days about my own older brother, who died in an accident during his turbulent adolescence. How my parents had prayed and grieved for him! Then one night my son left me a simple note: “I never want to do anything that would hurt you and Mom the way your brother’s problems hurt your parents.” I wondered how he could have known of something so personal from a generation ago. Then I remembered the journal, but I chose not to ask more.
A few weeks later, our son worked his way through a particularly trying experience and came to us late at night to tell us what had happened: “Dad, I never knew Grandpa Hafen, but I felt he was there, helping me.” I held him close that night, and I told him more about his grandfather.
Not long afterward, he was deciding how he should respond to a mission call. We were in southern Utah for a family reunion. One afternoon, with no explanation, he drove alone to the isolated little canyon where his grandfather had loved to ride his horse—the place, in fact, where he had passed away. Our son had read of this canyon in the journal and had seen it from a distance but had never been in it. In a secluded spot there, he knelt and asked the Lord’s help in sorting through his questions about his faith, his mission, and his life. At his missionary farewell, he alluded to the sacredness of that day and described the deep assurance and sense of direction he had carried from his grandfather’s canyon. Now, some years later, with children of his own, he reflects in his life that same assurance and direction, and I know the joy my father must feel.
I have no doubt that God’s promises to my father were planted in the heart of our child, just as they were in my own heart. There really can be a bond and a sense of belonging that ties together generations on both sides of the veil. This bond gives us a sense of identity and purpose. Our ties with the eternal world suddenly become very real, sharpening our life’s focus and lifting our expectations.
As we honor father and mother by turning our hearts to them, the Lord promises that our “days may be prolonged, and that it may go well with [us], in the land which the Lord [our] God giveth” us (Deut. 5:16). How is this promise to be fulfilled? We may hope not only that our “days may be prolonged,” but also that our days and lives may be blessed with personal security, happiness, and meaning. We can expect not only that “it may go well” with us individually, but also that our society will enjoy peace and liberty. The key to social as well as individual survival depends on children turning their hearts to their fathers and learning from the wisdom they have accumulated.
Today, those basic human relationships we call kinship and marriage are disintegrating. Many children, parents, and spouses are turning their hearts not toward one another but toward their own self-focused needs. “They seek not the Lord … , but every man walketh in his own way, and after the image of his own god, whose image is in the likeness of the world” (D&C 1:16).
Perhaps we are witnessing the negative aspects of the promise associated with the fifth commandment, namely, that the earth could be “utterly wasted” at the Lord’s coming. For “the earth will be smitten with a curse unless there is a welding link … between the fathers and the children” (D&C 128:18). The curse, like the blessing, was part of Malachi’s prophecy. Other prophecies also foretold the curse of an earth wasted by the loss of family bonds: “In the last days … men shall be lovers of their own selves, … disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, Without natural affection” (2 Tim. 3:1–3). “And because iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall wax cold” (Matt. 24:12).
Statistics reflect some results of this problem—rising rates of adolescent crime, births to unwed parents, divorce, and family violence. But the attitudes that produce these statistics are in some ways more revealing than the statistics themselves. As one anonymous writer said, we are seeing today a “general … transformation of our society from one that strengthens the bonds between people to one that is, at best, indifferent to them; a sense of an inevitable fraying of the net of connections between people at many critical intersections, of which the marital knot is only one.” This disintegration has at least one common cause: “The overriding value placed on the idea of individual emancipation and fulfillment, in the light of which, more and more, the old bonds are seen not as enriching but as confining. We are coming to look upon life as a lone adventure.”1
In addition to individual isolation, this trend leads us to forget our “group memory”—the essential knowledge each succeeding generation must possess to ensure social continuity, even survival of the culture. The loss of human connections is keeping knowledge and understanding from being passed from one generation to the next. “Our society requires, as a minimum for its survival, that its members share a common set of beliefs, abide by a common set of rules, and … recognize their mutual dependence.”2 In this sense, the connection between honoring parents and living long in the land seems especially strong.
The fifth commandment’s focus on child-parent relations calls attention to a modern trend—a “children’s rights” movement. In some ways, this movement has helped raise society’s awareness about the seriousness of child abuse, and it has made government agencies and schools feel more accountable for what they do. But rather than planting the promises made to the fathers in the hearts of the children, this movement has too often sought to release children from any sense of dependence upon, or even connection to, parents and other adults.
This movement to give children their “rights” can actually leave them feeling abandoned. In fact, children’s highest “right” is to be loved, taught, and nurtured by parents and communities who honor and protect them. Only in this way do we teach them to honor their parents and to honor the interests of their communities. Only this reciprocal honoring—and belonging—will deliver the promise of the fifth commandment.
Ironically, adults face some confusing conflicts of interest when thinking about the “rights” of children. Child rearing makes great demands on the time, energy, and financial resources of parents and communities. Giving “rights” to our children is a beguiling invitation, for it offers an escape from those demands—a liberation from the responsibility of long-term nurturing. The notion that we should “respect our children’s freedom” enough to “leave them alone” can too easily justify the attitudes of adults whose personal convenience is also best served by leaving their children alone. Such parents might decide it is not worth the patience and frustration required to provide children with meaningful discipline.
Those who give in to that temptation miss a wonderful opportunity for personal growth. Unqualified commitments to our children, spouses, parents, and brothers and sisters allow us to learn and grow in ways not possible in less-demanding relationships.
I once saw how this kind of learning can take place. One of our children was in great difficulty in his fourth-grade class. He needed to complete a certain project by the next day, or he would face disaster. After dinner, my wife, Marie, told me that she had thought of a way she could help him. I ushered our other children out of the kitchen, and the handicraft project began.
I periodically heard outbursts from our fourth-grader, who kept insisting that he wouldn’t do another thing on the project. At one point, I offered to send him to his room and tell him to forget it, but Marie calmly urged me to let her proceed with the plan.
After about three hours, as I was tucking the other children into bed, our son and his mother entered the bedroom. Carrying his project as proudly as if it were a birthday cake, he invited the other children to see it.
He had made every part of it himself. He placed it on a counter and started for his bed. Then he looked back at his mother with a broad, boyish grin. He ran across the room, threw his arms around her waist, and hugged her close. The two of them exchanged glances that carried great meaning. He went to bed, and we left the room.
“What happened?” I asked my wife. “How did you do it?”
Marie replied that she had made up her mind that no matter what he said or did, she wouldn’t raise her voice or lose her patience. She had also decided that leaving him was not an alternative, even if the project took all night. Then she made this significant observation: “I didn’t know I had it in me to do it.”
She had discovered within herself a reservoir of patience and endurance she never would have found without the deep commitment that grew from a sense of real belonging. Belonging is for thick and thin, and this was one of the thin times! Exerting such immovable loyalty to another person teaches us how to love—indeed, how to be more like the Savior.

Acting as Joseph’s scribe thrilled Oliver. Day after day, he listened as his friend dictated the complex history of two large civilizations, the Nephites and the Lamanites. He learned of righteous and wicked kings, of people who fell into captivity and were delivered from it, of an ancient prophet who used seer stones to translate records recovered from fields filled with bones. Like Joseph, that prophet was a revelator and seer blessed with the gift and power of God.28
The record testified again and again of Jesus Christ, and Oliver saw how prophets led an ancient church and how ordinary men and women did the work of God.
Yet Oliver still had many questions about the Lord’s work, and he hungered for answers. Joseph sought a revelation for him through the Urim and Thummim, and the Lord responded. “If you will ask of me you shall receive,” He declared. “If thou wilt inquire, thou shalt know mysteries which are great and marvelous.”
The Lord also urged Oliver to remember the witness he had received before coming to Harmony, which Oliver had kept to himself. “Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?” the Lord asked. “If I have told you things which no man knoweth have you not received a witness?”29
Oliver was astonished. He immediately told Joseph about his secret prayer and the divine witness he had received. No one could have known about it except God, he said, and he now knew the work was true.

I gazed upon the many rows of black marble stones standing in haunting stillness among the beautiful gardens of the Okinawa Peace Memorial Park in Itoman, Okinawa, Japan. Engraved with over 200,000 names, these stones commemorate those who lost their lives during the Battle of Okinawa during World War II.
Walking toward the parking lot at the conclusion of our visit, my wife and I noticed that our toddler no longer held his favorite yellow truck. When we asked him where it was, he led us back to the main monument. He had neatly placed his truck by a bouquet of flowers donated by other visitors. With shining eyes and a huge smile, our son showed us his own contribution to the memorial.
Driving home, we pondered his selfless choice. Did he recognize the special spirit of that place and feel compelled to give his most prized possession? What worth could a plastic truck add to the honor and memorial of those who had lost their lives here?

Both Elder and Sister Christofferson graduated from BYU in 1969. Elder Christofferson went on to pursue a law degree at Duke University. When he completed his schooling in 1972, he was hired as a law clerk to federal judge John J. Sirica, the judge who would later preside at the Watergate trials. Time magazine named Judge Sirica Man of the Year and called the Watergate affair “the worst political scandal in U.S. history.” The scandal and its legal trials pervaded the U.S. news in 1973 and 1974.
Elder Christofferson had planned to clerk for one year and then work for a prominent Washington, D.C., law firm, from which he had received an employment offer. Elder Ralph W. Hardy, now an Area Seventy, has spent his career as a member of that firm and remembers that in those difficult Watergate days, Judge Sirica called the firm’s managing partner and said, “I can’t let Todd go. He is too valuable. He is the only person I can talk to.” As a result, Todd assisted Judge Sirica throughout the Watergate proceedings.

For a number of years he pursued his goal of working for President Heber J. Grant, whom he had known and admired as a boy in the Salt Lake business community. It was not an easy pursuit. President Grant was a “rapid-fire speaker,” and few secretaries had been able to record his sermons in shorthand. Undaunted, Joseph sat in the audience during a Sunday talk in the Tabernacle to take down the President’s remarks. A little later he recorded another of President Grant’s talks given in the Assembly Hall, at the request of the President who had been impressed by Joseph’s minutes of the earlier talk. “He surely gave me the drilling of my life. He was a fast speaker.” Illustrations, stories, poetry, quotations went by “like a threshing machine.” Afterwards, Joseph felt a little dejected, but his wife encouraged him to go to the library and copy some of the President’s references and quotations.

On 1 February 1922, Joseph Anderson became private secretary to President Grant, beginning an intimate association that would last twenty-three years. The firm, monumental figure beloved by the Church became Joseph’s personal friend. “Generosity,” replies Elder Anderson when asked which of President Grant’s qualities he remembers most. “I kept his accounts. I know of the many times he helped those in need, even paying off mortgages of widowed friends from his own pocket.”

President Grant was always ready to give. After an energetic conference talk in San Diego, the President invited Joseph to play golf with him. “I had never played golf, … but I couldn’t very well turn him down,” Elder Anderson reminisced. The President arranged for a lesson and a pail of golf balls to practice with, and then they played a number of holes. The next day in Los Angeles President Grant suffered a debilitating heart attack. On the way to the hospital, he whispered, “‘Joseph, you made some very good strokes yesterday.’ I said, ‘Yes, President, I’m afraid you’ve converted me. I will have to get some clubs and get busy.’ ‘Don’t you worry about the clubs,’ he said, ‘I’ll take care of that. I’ll buy them.’”

Fortunately, the President recovered to live five more years, although his life was very much endangered. From his sickbed, he insisted that every well-wishing card and gift of flowers be acknowledged, and, though barely able to move his hand, signed his name to every response. “He was the kindest of men,” says Elder Anderson. A day or two before his death at 88, President Grant met with his faithful secretary for the last time. “Joseph, have I ever been unkind to you?” he asked. His secretary was happy to be able to say, “You have never said an unkind word to me.”

When Grace and I were a young married couple life was very tough. We always struggled to make both ends meet. In some miraculous way, they always do. There was a time when bills were due and there was no food on the table, neither was there any money to take care of both. We actually considered pawning our wedding ring but the appraisal was not very promising. It wasn't worth much so we ran the risk of losing it for almost nothing. So, we abandoned that plan. Again, we survived that crisis.

We bought our first washing machine 4 years into our marriage. What a relief that was. We got our first beat up van when our oldest child was 10 years old.

Sometimes, as married couples, we become impatient, and we want things to happen faster, we want comfort to come faster. We wish we had parents who were millionaires and would give us a big inheritance when we get married, so we didn't have to go through those things again. If you asked us now, would we go through all of those struggles again? The answer is a resounding: "Yes we will!" Those were times when we were experiencing a lot of growth and strength of character individually and as a couple. Those were times when our love for each other started to really blossom from what we thought was already a perfect relationship when we got married.

So, be patient and do what the Lord tells you to do. Pay your tithes and offerings without fail. They always come first. That is the only way the Lord can perform miracles for you to witness.

Our stake asked us to pray for missionary experiences, and I had a very special one when I was with my family on a vacation in the Florida Keys. One day I was out on the beach watching the waves when I noticed a lady sitting next to me reading a magazine. The magazine happened to be the Friend. Being shy, I was afraid to start a conversation with her. But I had a very strong feeling that I should. So I began by asking her if she was a member of the Church. She said she was an investigator. Our conversation continued for at least 30 more minutes. She had many different types of questions. For example, she asked about Church missions and what my family does for family night. I tried my very best to answer all of her questions. This experience strengthened my testimony. I also learned that I need to be ready to answer people’s questions.

Example 2: My first semester at Ricks College in 1992
My second example is a much more personal one, but the same principles apply. From the moment I stepped foot on this wonderful campus, I loved it. There was a very special feeling on campus, which I would later learn was called the Spirit or the Spirit of Ricks. Although I felt the Spirit, I was not prepared to learn from it. I needed a very important event to occur in my life. I needed failure, and I got it my first semester. These are the grades earned from my first semester, Fall 1992, at Ricks College. I know I share this at the risk of losing my employment and the respect of my colleagues and students, but I hope it will be beneficial to some of you. As you can clearly see, I flopped Math 101 and I mega-flopped Introduction to Racquetball. You have to really work hard to fail racquetball. I now believe that I needed to fail before I could succeed at college. It was humbling, it was concerning, and I knew I needed to change, to do something different. These grades encouraged me to change, and as I did, I soon began to experience some of the blessings of this failure. As I struggled in school, I turned to my Savior for help and strength. I developed great relationships with my bishop, my family home evening group, and my resident assistants in the dorms. I got permission to obtain my patriarchal blessing, which I received in a classroom in the basement of the Smith Building. I interviewed for and submitted my application to serve a full-time mission for the Church. I received that call and opened it with my family home evening group in their apartment in Lamprecht Hall. The academic struggles I experienced during my first semester were a blessing that established the foundation for my future academic and spiritual successes. Failure changed me forever.

Let’s apply this example to the criteria of functionality or purpose. How long have college students been failing college courses? Since colleges and universities began teaching them. Who has failed or done very poorly in a class? Again, we reach the same conclusion. If there have been students who have done poorly in classes since the beginning of the education system, and if different types of students do poorly in classes, then academic failure must be functional or have a purpose. In my first year at Ricks College, that purpose was twofold. First, I needed to be humbled and learn to rely upon the Lord for any type of struggle I had in my life. Second, I needed to change how I went about my academic studies. I needed to have a plan. In devotional last week, President Eyring challenged you to “seek guidance and spiritual confirmation in planning your college education.” He promised that “Heavenly Father [will] reward your efforts to humbly and persistently seek his guidance.” He also encouraged you to talk with fellow students, professors, parents, and role models. [2]What President Eyring encouraged you to do last week is exactly what I did my first year at Ricks College. I prayed more earnestly for guidance. I sought out good friends within a family home evening group, met with an inspired bishop, and was profoundly influenced by returned missionaries who were leaders in my ward and housing unit. I can testify that if you heed President Eyring’s counsel from last week, it will turn a potential fiasco into a certain success.

When Yukari was three years old, her preschool served milk with coffee in it. Because Yukari’s mother had taught her about the Word of Wisdom, Yukari would not drink the coffee milk. She would fill up her cup with water and drink that instead.
One day Yukari said to her mother, “I want to drink coffee milk like everyone else.” Her mother sat down with her and helped her understand that Heavenly Father loves her, that He doesn’t want her to drink coffee, and that it is a commandment. From that day on, Yukari was sure she never wanted to drink coffee. More than a year passed.
One day when Yukari’s teacher could not be there, another teacher came to the class. As usual, Yukari was drinking water. The teacher saw this and asked, “Why are you drinking water?” Yukari explained that she attended church and she had promised Heavenly Father she would not drink coffee. The teacher was impressed. From that time on, the preschool stopped serving coffee milk and served other drinks instead.

Once I was helping my mom with laundry in the basement. My brothers and sister were coming down the stairs. I was standing at the bottom of the stairs when my sister started to fall! Somehow I was able to catch her by grabbing her shirt with one hand. I think that was a miracle because the Holy Ghost helped me know where to stand and gave me strength to catch her, even though I was only three and she was two.

For Mindy, a young mother of twin toddlers, the simple efforts of her ministering sister made a huge difference in her sacrament meeting experience every week.
“Because of my husband’s work schedule, I take our twin daughters to church by myself every week,” Mindy explains. “It’s really overwhelming to try to make it through all of sacrament meeting with two busy toddlers, but my ministering sister has taken it upon herself to help me.
“She sits with us and helps me take care of my girls every week. Just having her next to me means so much and really eases my anxiety in their moments of tantrums or fussiness. I don’t think she’ll ever know how much her actions have impacted me at this time in my life. She saw my need as a young, anxiety-filled mother, and she helps make church a peaceful and happy place for all of us.”

A few days ago we visited with an elder in the mission field. During the interview I inquired, “Is your father a member of the Church?”
He said, “No.”
“Is your mother a member of the Church?”
He responded with, “Just barely.”
“Did your father want you to go on a mission?”
He answered, “No.”
“Did your mother want you to go on a mission?”
“She really didn’t care whether I went or not.”
“Who influenced you most in your decision to go?”
“I did. I’ve always wanted to go, and I knew I could make a success of it.”
I looked that young man in the face and said, “From what I hear and what I feel of your spirit, you will succeed.” Here was a great individual who had the opportunity to knock and to murmur, “My dad doesn’t care. My mother doesn’t care. Why should I care?” He knows the importance of going forward and has the courage to continue.

When I was 16, a friend showed up at our home with the missionaries. Within a month of the first discussion, all my questions were answered in clarity. I felt the Holy Ghost testify of the truthfulness of the messages about the Restoration. It was unlike anything I had ever felt, and I knew all of it was true.
However, I experienced more rejection and opposition than ever before. I felt alone, tired, and confused. If I was doing the right thing, why was I encountering so much adversity? I couldn’t understand how my trials were for my good. The missionaries taught me to fast and pray, even in the middle of a school day. When things became unbearable I’d pour out my heart and immediately feel the comfort of the Spirit.
The week of my baptism was full of trials. My boss threatened to fire me if I didn’t skip my baptism to fill in for someone, I ended up in the hospital with kidney stones, and my parents asked me to leave our home. With so many things out of my control, the only thing I could do was turn to the Lord.
Every one of those trials did turn out to be for my benefit. They helped me learn about the doctrines of the gospel, which provided me a foundation for my testimony.

The organ plays a beautiful, touching sacrament hymn. Ward members open their hymnals and begin to sing along, reflecting on Christ and the Atonement. And three young men reverently break bread in preparation for the passing of the sacrament. The three priests, Randy Hulet, Reuben Kendall, and Ethan Kennedy, of the State College First Ward in State College, Pennsylvania, are busy fulfilling one of many Aaronic Priesthood duties.
“It’s an honor to break the bread and bless the sacrament each Sunday,” says Ethan, 18. “It’s a big responsibility, and we, as priests, need to make sure that we’re worthy so we can perform this service for the congregation.”
Blessing the sacrament isn’t something that came naturally to Reuben, who recently joined the priests quorum as a 16-year-old. “I was so nervous. I thought, ‘This is going to be impossible. I’m going to mess up a lot.’ But I said a little prayer that I wouldn’t mess up, and I didn’t,” Reuben says.
Randy, 18, says that passing the sacrament as a deacon and helping to prepare it as a teacher gave him the confidence that he needed to administer the sacrament as a priest. He says that fulfilling his priesthood responsibilities earlier on made his duties as a priest seem “more real,” and that he had the desire to “say the sacrament prayers in a way that would be pleasing to Heavenly Father.”
Reuben says that every time he blesses the bread or water, he “feels the Spirit overwhelmingly.” He adds, “Just like the sacrament prayers never change, the way that I feel when I say them never changes, either. The Spirit is always there, so long as I am worthy to feel it. It’s a comfort. It’s there to help me do well.”
Not only do the three teens understand the importance of the ordinance, they also understand that wearing a white shirt and tie to church each Sunday is important because it shows respect for the ordinance and for Jesus Christ. “Despite the fact that I like colored shirts, I know that I should wear a white shirt when I help with the sacrament. White is a symbol of purity,” Ethan says.
Aside from administering the sacrament, the three priests also work hard to fulfill their other priesthood responsibilities as they prepare to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood and serve missions, like teaching the gospel and assisting in missionary work.
These three young men have had home teaching assignments since they were 14, including Ethan who lived in Germany at that time. “My father and I would go home teaching to a woman who lived 45 minutes away. She was less active, so home teaching her was the only interaction she had with the Church each month,” Ethan says.
Having that assignment when he was younger and fulfilling his current home teaching assignment has helped Ethan understand the importance of teaching. Furthermore, he says, it has prepared him to serve a mission in the near future. “When I go on a mission, I’ll be able to teach people lessons and not have to worry about it because of my experiences as a home teacher,” Ethan says. “It’s a testimony to me of how the Aaronic Priesthood is helping me to prepare to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood.”
Reuben says that home teaching is great preparation for a mission because “it gets you more comfortable teaching lessons to people and using the Spirit to help you teach, and then that will later help you prepare for the MTC when you learn how to teach and on your mission when you’re actually teaching.”
Reuben remembers his experience as a 14-year-old teacher and going home-teaching for the first time. “I was kind of nervous because I hadn’t done it before, but then after I read over the lesson, I thought, ‘I can do this.’ Having the Spirit with me helped because it helped me to say the things that the people we were visiting needed to hear, even though I hadn’t originally planned on saying certain things,” Reuben says. “I’ve learned that in order to have the Spirit help you, you first have to prepare and try to be ready. If you can do that, it can help you out a lot.”
While administering the sacrament and teaching the gospel are duties that these three teens get to experience often, there are other priesthood duties that are fulfilled a little less frequently, like participating in a priesthood ordination or assisting in missionary work.
When Ethan’s younger brother was ordained a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood a year and a half ago, Ethan was able to participate in the ordination and blessing. “I was able to stand there for him. It was really cool. I was very happy that I could do that for him and support him,” Ethan says.
Most LDS teens at some point in their young lives are given opportunities in the Church that enable them to have spiritual experiences and gain a testimony. Such has been the case with Reuben, who attended a testimony meeting during a week at a camp in Pennsylvania for LDS young men.
“Throughout my deacon and teacher years in the Aaronic Priesthood, I had a testimony, but that night at camp truly affirmed that testimony,” Reuben says. “During that testimony meeting, I felt the power of the Holy Ghost witnessing to me the truths of the gospel that Jesus Christ is the Savior and that through Joseph Smith the gospel was restored to the earth.”
Reading the scriptures also helps Reuben build his testimony because, Reuben says, he can receive personal revelation from the scriptures and “get something totally different out of the scriptures than what I thought I would going into that reading session.”
Receiving personal revelation is not a new concept to Randy, who says a turning point in his testimony came when he received his patriarchal blessing. “After I got my patriarchal blessing, I read it for the first time. I then realized that Heavenly Father cares about all of us and that the blessing comes from Him. Receiving that blessing just manifested to me that patriarchal blessings are personal scripture for us.”
Ethan has also felt the power of the Holy Ghost, which has strengthened his testimony. Ethan, who is the eldest of four siblings, tells of a time when his youngest sister was baptized. “We were living here in Pennsylvania when she was baptized, and we drove up to the Susquehanna River, where Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery were baptized,” Ethan says. “My sister was baptized in that place. That experience reaffirmed what I knew—that baptism is the only way to return to Heavenly Father. It is the gate to eternal life.”
Priests who are 16 years old can also assist in missionary work, something that Reuben, Randy, and Ethan recently had the opportunity to do.
Ethan says that going out with the missionaries taught him the importance of being a hard worker. “We would be walking down the street, and the missionaries would talk to perfect strangers. They would say, ‘Hello,’ or, ‘Would you like to hear this message we have?’” Ethan says. “A lot of people would ignore the missionaries or say, ‘No, thank you,’ but the missionaries would keep on trying. It was a real lesson to me that I need to be persistent when I serve a mission.”
Helping with missionary work was also an eye-opener after visiting less-active members in the ward. “It’s nice to know that there are people who come to church every week, but there are many people who don’t come. And knowing they’re out there really makes me want to try to help them come back to church. It’s increased my awareness,” Ethan says.
The three young men are anxious for the day when they get to serve in the mission field. But for now, they’re busy doing what they always try to do best—fulfill their priesthood duties.

The gospel changed Brother Ng’s life. “My wife tells me I was entirely different after joining the Church,” he says, laughing. “My temper became smooth. My finances were better because I paid tithing. I didn’t worry about food or shelter because I kept the commandments. A happy life followed.”
After seeing the difference the gospel made in her husband’s life, Sister Ng Pang Lai Har also investigated the gospel. Missionaries often visited their home, teaching her husband one of the new member lessons, then teaching her one of the 18 discussions.
Ten months after her husband’s baptism, Sister Ng was baptized. Brother Ng had the privilege of baptizing their seven children as they reached age eight.

Over the years, John taught a lot of students about Indian flute music. Tilda Suen, from Toadlena, New Mexico, remembers standing in front of a class of about 30 Brigham Young University students. Using simple fingering patterns, she played an original composition for her classmates. Then Brother Rainer led the entire group in a discussion about the melody.
“Trying to compose on the flute is fascinating,” Tilda recalls. “It’s hard to get your own expression and style into your song. But Brother Rainer taught us something that helped. He wanted us to convey strong feelings in our music, things like love, our feelings about the Church, our emotions.” Others also played their compositions for the class, then offered supportive comments.
“We learned about improvisations,” explained Lance Silverhorn of Anadarko, Oklahoma. “We arranged the notes we knew to come up with a song, practicing fingering and basic sounds. Later, we’d work out more complicated melodies on our own.”
For John Rainer, teaching a class was another means of sharing his love for the art of his ancestors—and also a means of preserving a skill that to them was interwoven in the fabric of everyday life.
“Native American flute playing was a dying art 15 years ago,” he said. “But now it’s regaining popularity throughout the country, as native performers like Commanche Doc Tate Nevaquaya of Norman, Oklahoma, record traditional songs and travel the country explaining them.” Brother Rainer invited Doc Tate to BYU several years ago and learned a lot from him about how to make flutes and play them. Through his own study, John also amassed a personal knowledge about the role of the flute in Indian society, a knowledge he continues passing on to others.
“I try to help people understand the function of the flute as it was and as it is today,” he said. It is a story of a rich heritage.
Some songs were most personal and were played only for sacred occasions. Some tribes treated songs as actual property—another person could not perform them without permission, payment, or proof they were given to him as a gift. In the Northern and Southern Plains, songs could be rented or leased.
Although many people think of the voice as the primary means of producing a melody in Indian society, the flute and whistle were also used.
Flutes were used in religious ceremonies, to mark events of importance to the community, as a means of self-expression, as a greeting to strangers, as a war signal, to announce the arrival of VIPs, and often in courting.
“Courting was not as overt as it is in modern society. A young man with feelings for a young lady could have a flute made or purchase a song and play it, hoping the young woman would respond. In some cultures, if she was impressed she would tie a feather in his pony’s tail. But they would not go walking around hand in hand.
“The Apaches had a very strict moral code. For them a melody was a prayer. They believed the flute player, to offer an effective prayer, had to be totally clean.
“The philosophy of the people was that there was life in everything, animate or inanimate. Taking that into consideration, they had respect for all life around them. So when the flute maker went out to select his wood, he did so in a religious context. He would try to understand the area from which his wood would come.
“If you have strong feelings and want to compose a song, it’s almost like putting clothes on a feeling. As Latter-day Saints we can use the flute to convey feelings about our Heavenly Father, our testimony, and our love for the gospel and our fellowman. At first your songs will be rough, but expect that. Practice each day and you will find it becomes part of your means of expression.”
One of the non-Lamanites who studied with Brother Rainer at BYU was Ingrid Jensen of Payson, Utah, who had exposure to European classical music in her home. One day in class she interrupted with a question, wondering how the trill so common in native American music is produced. Brother Rainer, whose favorite European composers include Bach, Berlioz, and Mozart, demonstrated the technique. Then he and Ingrid discussed diatonic scales and compared the baroque period’s augmented fourth interval with styles traditional in Navajo hymns.
Not everyone John talks to about flutes is so musically inclined. “Very few of the students in the flute-making class had any musical training when we started,” explained Katherine Kokenes of Mililani Town, Hawaii. “We came to the class because we wanted to build our own flutes and learn to play them. Once our first flute was made, he taught us simple tunes like ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb,’ and we practiced them over and over until we got used to them.”
Katherine based the exterior decoration for her flute on a Hawaiian motif symbolizing the ocean waves surrounding her island. She rubbed the wood with kukui nut oil.
Others John has taught have also found ways to personalize their instruments. Freida Maize from Shiprock, New Mexico, carved an “S” on her flute to stand for her home town. Ray Delgarito of Crown Point, New Mexico, fashioned part of his in the shape of a quail. And Jackie Smith of Dustin, Oklahoma, carved a thunderbird and other tribal symbols of the Creeks and Seminoles on her flute.
“The thunderbird symbolizes power, and to me music is a powerful way to influence people. In my tribe and every tribe it plays a vital part because it is involved in everything—religion, everyday singing, powwows, war dances. Everything is tied in with some form of music or other.”
She explained that her mother, who is not a member of the Church, heard her playing the LDS hymn “I Need Thee Every Hour” on the flute and asked her about its meaning. “I was able to show her that she can kneel before God and meet him any time, every hour.”
John Rainer knows that the wood on a flute can be left natural, rubbed down with a piece of cedar to smooth the surface, or the wood can be finished with linseed oil, stain, or shellac. Designs can be painted on the surface. Each flute, like each song, should represent the person who made it.
“It’s more worthwhile than just making something,” Tilda said. “Something simple becomes something beautiful when you use it to play a song.” John agrees. “It’s an extremely satisfying experience to take wood, carve it out, and then make music from your own creation. And each flute has a timbre all its own—no two instruments, just like no two songs, are alike.”
A flute is made from two halves joined together. This allows the center to be rounded, hollowed, and sanded. When the halves are joined, the instrument must then be tuned. The process requires consideration of many variables: size of holes, their distance from each other and from other parts of the flute, the diameter of the center bore, and the distance from a sharp wooden edge inside the flute that produces the vibrations. Most tuning is accomplished by increasing or decreasing the size of holes.
John explains that his ancestors made their flutes by burning holes with wooden rods, or by hollowing out cane which, when hot, is almost like plastic. In some regions pine, cedar, and redwood were used.
Early flutes were simple, straight tubes. With time, the two-piece construction was perfected, using resin rather than epoxy or glue to join the wood together. Interior carving leaves a thin strip of wood designed as a resonator. A wooden block is usually cemented above the resonator to help redirect air toward the finger holes.
It’s easy to see that a person who wants to make a flute needs to learn something about woodworking as well. A novice learns quickly. Tilda had nearly completed her first flute when it cracked; she completed her second in four days working three hours a day.
“I worked on my flute outdoors,” said Eric Hatch, a Navajo from Fruitland, New Mexico. “It helped me get a feeling for the olden days. The old ways are not so dead after all. My grandparents would be surprised, but they would be proud to see I want to learn and understand things that were important to them. Brother Rainer’s gone back to a lot of things I never knew, things I used to ignore. But now I listen and it seems very real.”
“I learned not only how to make flutes, but I learned a lot about the flute makers’ way of thinking,” Lance said. “It’s quite invigorating culturally to think of them and then build a flute and play a song the same way they would have.”
“I didn’t even know Navajos used flutes,” Ray said. “I think flutes sound neat. When you’re alone, play your flute and it’s like someone else is there. At first I thought I’d learn and then quit. But I think I’ll keep making them. People keep asking me to play songs for them.”
Nelson Atine of Salt Lake City, Utah, said playing the flute helped him think of the future, “what I’ll do with my heritage and my family and my children.”
John has taught many people to share the song of the flute. Some have played Church hymns in meetings. Others have shared their talent with relatives. John often plays a beautiful song he composed for his wife. He smiles proudly when his son David plays his flute.
John’s expertise has opened new opportunities for him. He has moved to San Carlos, Arizona, back to the reservation so that he can spend more time carving ebony and ironwood into flutes. People come from all over the world to hear him play. He travels to universities to give lectures. His music is being recorded and distributed throughout the country.
John will explain that every Indian tribe used the flute in some way. He’ll talk about geographical distribution, varieties of flutes, and compositional techniques. He reminds you that in some native American societies, the flute was so revered that the instrument and the honor of being the flute player was handed down from one generation to the next.
In his own quiet way, that seems to be exactly what John Rainer is doing for the coming generation—he is passing on to them the tradition of the song of the flute.

When I was a young man, my parents joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We knew that the missionaries had been teaching them, but my parents had taken the missionary lessons alone.
After this surprising announcement, my brothers and I began to listen to the missionaries as well, and they each received the message of the Restoration with gladness. Although I was curious, my heart was not into changing my life. I did, however, accept the challenge to pray about whether the Book of Mormon was the word of God, but I did not receive an answer.
You might ask why Heavenly Father did not answer that prayer; I certainly wondered. I have learned since that the promise made by Moroni is accurate. God does answer our prayers about the truthfulness of the gospel, but He answers them when we have “a sincere heart” and “real intent.”1 He does not answer just to respond to our curiosity.
May I return to my personal story. Eventually I began to be sincere. I remember when the missionary who was teaching me asked if I was ready to be baptized. I replied that I still had some questions. This wise missionary told me that he could answer them but that I would have to answer his question first. He asked me if the Book of Mormon was true and if Joseph Smith was a prophet. I told him that I did not know, but I wanted to know.
My questions led to increased faith. For me, the answer came not as an event but as a process. I noticed that as I did “experiment upon [the] words” and began to “exercise a particle of faith,” the Book of Mormon became “delicious to me” and it did “enlighten my understanding” and truly did “enlarge my soul.” Eventually I had that experience the scriptures describe as a swelling within your breast.21 It was at this point that I desired to be baptized and to commit my life to Jesus Christ.

Sammy Snake was busy crawling out of his old, dry skin when Hosea Hamster scampered by. “Ha-ha!” laughed Hosea. “Sammy, you certainly look funny—like a worm crawling out of its cocoon.”
Sammy Snake turned to his old friend and replied, “Snakes always shed their skins in the springtime.”
“I don’t see why you should shed your skin. Your old one looked just fine to me,” said Hosea.
“Every year I grow bigger so my skin becomes too small,” Sammy explained. “In the winter I hibernate, and I grow a new skin under the old one while I’m asleep. When I wake up in the springtime my old skin is dry. It splits along my belly and I crawl out of it. It’s like being born again every year.”
Hosea looked puzzled and replied, “Sure sounds like a lot of trouble to me. Why don’t you just stretch your old skin? That’s what I do. Watch this!” He puffed out his cheeks, making his little round face look like a fuzzy table tennis ball.
“No, no! You don’t understand,” cried Sammy, a little exasperated. “My skin doesn’t stretch like yours. It has to be hard and tough so it won’t tear when I crawl over sharp rocks. My skin needs to be strong enough to protect me from the hot sand and from Benny Badger or he could bite through it with his sharp teeth.”
“I see,” replied Hosea. “A skin that can do all those things couldn’t be expected to stretch too.”
Hosea sat on his hind legs and watched Sammy wiggle and squirm. Finally all his old skin came off. As Sammy crawled free of the skin, he gave a sigh of relief. “Well, I’m glad that job is over for another year. I am hungry! I’m hungry enough to eat a …” His beady eyes fixed on the plump little hamster sitting in front of him.
Hosea understood what he was thinking. Quickly, he scurried down the path to safety. He paused for a moment and turned to say, “Good-bye, Sammy. I’ll see you later—maybe we can play after you’ve had your dinner!”

Arthur took the Scout oath seriously. “On my honor I will do my best” was for him an inviolable law. He never did anything halfheartedly. In school he was at the top of his class. He taught himself shorthand in his spare time as a self-improvement project and became skilled enough to take dictation at well over 100 words per minute. This later led to a job as personal secretary to a member of parliament. He was an enthusiastic athlete, always giving the best that was in him to each sport. As a teenager he ran a three-mile race in which he was required to start last because he was considered the fastest. Some of the competitors were given a full minute head start. Arthur ran with all the strength he had and a little more, catching the leader just 100 yards from the finish line and edging ahead to win. Years later, at the age of 48, he ran in a cross-city, five-mile race in Salt Lake City. He finished second in a field of 32 runners. He won medals in both England and the United States for his skill in soccer. In this rough and tumble sport he had to use “brains instead of brawn” as he puts it, since at five-foot-two he couldn’t run over the top of many opponents. He played his last soccer game at the age of 60. He is also a qualified member of the U. S. Soccer Referee’s Association. Cricket is another favorite sport. He once played against the Australian test team in a match in San Francisco.
Thanks to his experiences in the First Colchester Troop, Scouting soon became an indispensable part of Arthur’s life. When his work took him to Berkhamsted, England, he was made assistant Scoutmaster of the local troop and organized a fife and drum corps.
At the age of 23, Arthur emigrated to America, arriving in Chicago on July 4, 1915. The very next day he was made Scoutmaster of the Logan Square Branch Troop. There were six LDS and 18 nonmember boys in the troop, and under Sadler’s guidance they won the championship flag of the Chicago area. Sadler later served as Scoutmaster of seven other troops in several states.
He has to laugh a little when he recalls one of his camping experiences as Scoutmaster of the Spring Lake (Utah) Troop. “We enjoyed a very nice overnight camp by the shores of Utah Lake. Our transportation on that occasion was a wagon and two horses provided by a local farmer. Not being a farmer myself, I left the details to the assistant Scoutmaster. The result was fine for the Scouts, but not so good for the horses—we forgot to provide any hay for them!”
In recent years Sadler has been able to influence large numbers of boys through invitations to speak to Scout troops, firesides, Scout leader groups, and other gatherings. Last February he spoke at seven different wards. He has also been invited to participate in various jamborees, leadership training programs, and summer camps.
At summer camp, as Sadler moves from camp to camp, offering encouragement and advice, it’s obvious that he is at home, doing what he loves to do best. He sits with the young men at their campfires each night and talks with them much as Baden-Powell talked with him and his companions at Walton-on-Naze. And like Baden-Powell, when the usual songs and ghost stories and adventure stories are all finished, he talks to them about honor. He eats each meal with a different patrol, and no matter how disastrous the cooking, he makes the Scouts feel that he has been honored to share it with them. And he really has.
It is no mystery why Sadler has given so much of himself during his 65 years as a Scout. He loves Scouting because he loves boys. His faith in them is absolute. He accepts wholeheartedly, and often quotes, the statement of Baden-Powell: “If you will give a boy a task to perform, within the range of his capabilities, and place him on his word of honor, you can rely confidently upon his accomplishing the task assigned to him.”
To Scouts he says, “Don’t just acquire a merit badge or skill award—earn it! If you’re swimming the mile, swim the mile; don’t cheat yourself by resting your feet on the bottom for a minute if you get tired.” He tells of a time when he was able to save two friends from drowning because of leaders who had insisted he really fulfill the swimming requirements.
Needless to say, Brother Sadler’s sons and grandsons have all been active Scouts. His son is a Scout leader in Las Vegas, Nevada; three of his grandsons are Eagle Scouts; and he has four great-grandsons just starting out in Cub Scouting.
He has received many honors, including the Silver Beaver award, but the honor he treasures most is the honor of working with Scouts. He has always set a good example for them, in the Church as well as in Scouting. He has held Church positions in all the areas where he has lived, and he served a full-time mission to his native England where he served as branch president of his home branch of Colchester.
It’s been a long time since Arthur Sadler paid fourpence for the first installment of Baden-Powell’s handbook, but his enthusiasm has never cooled. In him young people in and out of the Church will always have a friend.
He sums it all up when he says, “So long as I live I shall have in my heart a great love for boyhood and a sincere gratitude to young people for the happiness and joy my continued active association with them has afforded me through nearly three quarters of a century. May God bless them one and all.”