Gospel Story Finder

Winston Churchill spoke of the sharp agate points upon which the ponderous balance of destiny turns. Every one of us has in our own lives those sharp agate points upon which the ponderous balance of our destinies turn. Thirteen years ago, my stake president, John K. Edmunds, called me to meet him for lunch in a downtown Chicago restaurant. (We were both practicing law in that city at the time.) I was then a counselor in the Sunday School superintendency of one of the wards in his stake. He called me to a stake mission and to serve as a counselor in the stake mission presidency. At that time, I was working all day and every evening of the week and all day Saturday—excluding Sunday, as has always been my practice. I was working morning, noon, and night six days a week on some very taxing assignments for the law firm that employed me. He called me on a stake mission and told me—as was his wont, perfectly unyielding, without any compromise—that I would be expected to give forty hours of proselyting time per month in addition to attending meetings, bringing investigators to church, and doing the gospel study I would need to qualify myself as a stake missionary. I said to myself at that time that this was a turning point in my life; this was a test of my faith. Would I have the faith necessary to accept that position in view of the requirements of my employment? Even at that time, but more surely as I have looked back on it, I could recognize this as one of those sharp agate points that Churchill identified. Fortunately for me I mustered the faith, accepted the call, and said to my president, “If the Lord wants me to serve in that position—and I do honor the calling as coming from the Lord through his servant—he will make it possible for me to do it. When do you want me to start?”

He said, “I have an appointment I’d like you to keep tonight.”

I got my affairs in order and began that evening. Effective with that calling to a stake mission, I rarely ever worked after five o’clock again in the remaining course of my law practice, and still I realized greater success than I had ever realized by any measure that a young man could choose for success in his chosen profession. The Lord made it up to me in countless ways that I have no time and indeed no ability to particularize for you, but I can simply tell you that my faith was rewarded in every possible way.

More important to me, as I look back, is the certainty with which I can see that this calling to a stake mission changed the direction of my life and set me on a course that brought me here in measurable, deliberate, and direct steps to stand before you today. As I began to do the work of that missionary calling, I began to reevaluate the course on which I had set myself professionally, and I began to think about whether I wanted to spend the rest of my life in that particular law practice. Six months later, when I received a renewed offer of a position in law teaching, I accepted it. I would never have accepted that position if it had not been for my calling to a stake mission. That calling also offered me an opportunity to grow in faith and devotion and loyalty to the leadership of the Church. In every way I can measure it was a turning point in my life.

Our vacation was ending. Over waffles that morning, we planned how to make the most of our time at the hotel before enduring the five-hour drive home. My husband decided to take our three young daughters for a final escapade in the pool. I would take advantage of a treadmill in the workout room.
The treadmill I chose faced a wall-sized window overlooking the swimming pool. Shortly I saw a family, my family, make their way to the pool. Towels, shoes, and T-shirts flew everywhere as the girls excitedly prepared to jump into the water. Normally I would be following behind them, gathering up clothes and shoes and, quite honestly, being a bit annoyed by it all. Instead, I saw this family from the outside looking in, as though the giant window before me was a movie screen. As my feet pounded a rhythm on the rotating belt beneath, I watched.
I saw how happy everyone was, laughing and playing together, and I thought about the times I had become discouraged by the petty arguments that inevitably arise in a family, by the uneasy feeling that, despite my best effort, I was failing to teach my children to love each other. But as I watched, I saw people who were happy together. I discovered that I wasn’t failing to teach them to love one another; I was just failing to notice that they could.
I watched one of the girls jumping from the pool’s edge over and over again into her daddy’s arms. I thought about all the big jumps she would make throughout her life and hoped she would trust Heavenly Father to catch her each time. I knew that with each jump she was learning to trust and that being part of our family was a safe way to learn that trust.
Another daughter sought to perfect a swimming skill. I saw how her family’s encouragement kept her trying. There would be times in her life when she would need that same support in the face of more difficult challenges.
And then I watched as our third daughter was accidentally bumped into the pool. Upset and angry, she sputtered her way out of the water and into a chair. Immediately her family noticed she was missing. I watched each one lovingly encourage her to rejoin them. She eventually did, and I thought of her future, of all the times she would be hurt and feel like giving up. I hoped she would always find in the love of her family the strength to endure.
Suddenly, the realization hit me: our families can be a key to our ability to learn, understand, and live the gospel. Nephi noted that “by small means the Lord can bring about great things” (1 Nephi 16:29). And so it is with families. Yes, parents struggle. But every effort to teach and train and love, no matter how small, matters.
My little movie drew to a close. As I turned off the treadmill and watched my family gather their clothes, I felt renewed determination to keep going, to keep doing all the little things that I sometimes worry don’t make a difference.

In the October 2012 general conference, President Boyd K. Packer related an incident that explains this very well. On one occasion he was assigned to a stake conference in Western Samoa. As part of the conference the group had to travel from Savai’i to Mulifanua on Upolu Island. They had originally planned to go by plane, but weather conditions prevented that, so they set out on a forty-foot boat. What they did not know is that they were headed into the center of a ferocious tropical storm. After many hours they crossed the rough seas and arrived at the harbor at Mulifanua. President Packer explained what happened next:
We arrived in the harbor at Mulifanua. There was one narrow passage we were to go through along the reef. A light on the hill above the beach and a second lower light marked the narrow passage. When a boat was maneuvered so that the two lights were one above the other, the boat would be lined up properly to pass through the dangerous rocks that lined the passage.
But that night there was only one light. Two elders were waiting on the landing to meet us, but the crossing took much longer than usual. After watching for hours for signs of our boat, the elders tired and fell asleep, neglecting to turn on the second light, the lower light. As a result, the passage through the reef was not clear.
The captain maneuvered the boat as best he could toward the one upper light on shore while a crewman held [a] flashlight over the bow, searching for rocks ahead. We could hear the breakers crashing over the reef. When we were close enough to see them with the flashlight, the captain frantically shouted reverse and backed away to try again to locate the passage.
After many attempts, he knew it would be impossible to find the passage [without the second light]. All we could do was try to reach the harbor at Apia 40 miles (64 km) away. We were helpless against the ferocious power of the elements.25
The group eventually made their way to safety, but it was a harrowing experience. President Packer observed, “I do not know who had been waiting for us at the beach at Mulifanua. . . . But it is true that without that lower light, we all might have been lost.”26

This was the same canal in which I was later baptized into the Church, and this is the same canal from which I hauled water to the trees and plant life about our home. I was the smallest of the boys, so I was given this work. We called the transportation a “lizard.” Did any of you ever see a “lizard”? We made it with a Y-shaped tree limb. In the center we fastened a barrel and hitched one horse to the “lizard.” I drove it to the canal, where I dipped up barrels full of canal water, then drove the horse one block to the home where I dipped out the water for the plants and flowers.
My father made a great effort to surround the new home with every kind of flower and save them in those late summer days when water was so scarce. It was also my job to drive the horses and cows to the canal for their drinking water.

I remember being excited to receive my endowment when I was getting ready to leave for my mission. I also remember having that excitement turn to worry and confusion after some family members gave me veiled warnings about attending for the first time.
I knew their intentions were genuine in trying to help me have a good experience. But I wish that instead of focusing on warning me that the temple was unfamiliar, people had helped prepare me for the temple in uplifting and correct ways.
With that in mind, here are four things to consider as you talk to those preparing to go to the temple for the first time:
When someone we love is attending the temple for the first time, we naturally want to share our own experiences with him or her. But we need to make sure what we’re sharing is focused on gospel truths rather than our own opinions.
Correct information allows our loved ones to focus on the Savior and not be swayed into feeling a certain way about their temple experiences. President Russell M. Nelson said, “Good inspiration is based upon good information.”
You can share correct information (and even pictures!) about the temple from the temple preparation course, the scriptures, and temples.ChurchofJesusChrist.org. Sometimes we might get nervous about what to share, but by turning to resources rather than our opinions, we don’t have to worry about oversharing.
By giving correct information about the temple, we offer a more enlightened view about the temple. Opinions are often focused on feelings and experiences we’ve had, while gospel information is focused on allowing your loved one to have their own experience in the temple.
What descriptions of the temple have stuck with you? For example, President Nelson said, “Your service and worship in the temple will help you to think celestial.” And President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018) said, “Each [temple] stands as a beacon to the world.”
We can choose words that will offer hope and enlightenment to those we love who are preparing for their temple experience. We can avoid negative descriptors of the temple (like “weird” or “strange”), and we can choose to use positive, Christ-centered descriptions (like “peace” and “hope”).
I find it helpful to think about the many beautiful pictures I’ve seen of the inside of the temple, and often I will share those pictures with friends or family members who are preparing to go. What feelings and emotions and words come to mind when you see those images? Try to be uplifting in how you speak about the temple.
Out of our love and deep respect for the temple, it can be easy to feel afraid of talking about it. We can get flustered and wonder what is OK to say. I know I got caught up in the culture of telling curious friends and family members that we can’t talk about what happens in the temple.
However, as I served in and studied more about the temple, I came to see that we can share more than I realized!
For example, we can share that “an endowment is literally a ‘gift.’” The temple endowment is a gift of sacred blessings from God to each of us, and some of those blessings include:
“Greater knowledge of the Lord’s purposes and teachings.
“Power to do all that God wants us to do.
“Divine guidance and protection as we serve the Lord, our families, and others.
“Increased hope, comfort, and peace.
“Promised blessings now and forever.”
We can also talk about the covenants we make in the temple. The beautiful thing about the temple is that it allows us to draw closer to God and strengthen our relationship with Him by making additional promises with Him. These covenants are:
“Law of Obedience, which includes striving to keep God’s commandments.
“Law of Sacrifice, which means doing all we can to support the Lord’s work and repenting with a broken heart and contrite spirit.
“Law of the Gospel, which is the higher law that He taught while He was on the earth.
“Law of Chastity, which means that we have sexual relations only with the person to whom we are legally and lawfully wedded according to God’s law.
“Law of Consecration, which means dedicating our time, talents, and everything with which the Lord has blessed us to building up Jesus Christ’s Church on the earth.”
As we share positive messages about the temple, we help our loved ones feel more welcome and ready to attend for the first time. We can help them look forward to deepening their relationship with Jesus Christ through temple covenants.
What I learned most about the temple is that with correct information, it’s not strange at all. In fact, most—if not all—of the information and blessings we receive in the temple are familiar to what we are taught every day in the gospel.
Through my experiences, I’ve learned that fear is not of the Lord. When we avoid talking about the temple or try talking about it with veiled warnings or worries, it gives the adversary greater power to skew the beauty of the temple. Instead of cutting our conversations short by saying, “Just keep going back and it will get better eventually,” we can share the positive experiences we have from attending the temple.
When we find ourselves fearful of answering questions about the temple, that may be an invitation from the Lord to study more about the temple. This will bless not only us but also those around us. The Lord intended for the temple to bless us, not scare us.
Remember President Nelson’s words: “Making covenants and receiving essential ordinances in the temple, as well as seeking to draw closer to Him there, will bless your life in ways no other kind of worship can.” And the more we speak positively about the Lord’s house, the more we will keep guiding each other to return and invite those blessings into our lives.

A revelation to the Prophet Joseph Smith sent groups of Latter-day Saints to Missouri to lay the foundation of Zion. It wasn’t long, however, before mobs confronted them. In scenes from Legacy, families arrive in Missouri (1); soon mobs tar and feather some of the Saints (2), storm the printing office (3), attack the Haun’s Mill settlement (4), and finally force the Saints to leave (5).

James and Drusilla Hendricks came to Missouri in 1836. In 1838, James was paralyzed by a bullet. For the next year, Drusilla nursed him, held off the mobs, and did what she could to keep her family alive.

The day came when they ate the last of their food. Then “the conflict began in my mind,” Drusilla wrote. Recalling her parents’ warning that her husband would be killed, she asked herself, “Are you not sorry you did not listen to them?” Answering her own question, she replied, “No I am not. I did what was right. If I die I am glad I was baptized for the remission of my sins, for I have an answer of a good conscience.” Then she heard a still small voice saying, “‘Hold on, for the Lord will provide.’ I said I would, for I would trust in Him and not grumble.”

James survived, though still an invalid, and the family made it to Utah, united in faith and hope (in Kenneth W. Godfrey and others, Women’s Voices: An Untold History of the Latter-day Saints [1982], 96).

In her book Adversity, author Elaine Cannon recalls a moment from the life of Sister Freda Joan Lee, who was mourning the death of her husband, President Harold B. Lee. Sister Cannon writes:
Sister Lee sobbed and said, “The world is mourning a prophet, but I have lost my husband. And I have had him such a short time.”
Sister Lee, since then deceased herself, was in her sixties when she married President Lee, following the death of his first wife, and she comforted countless numbers of single girls with this hope. Thinking of separation now, plus a stretch of loneliness ahead proved a consuming trial for her. She who had comforted so many now stood on the uncomfortable threshold of despair herself.
Later, lonely and struggling to understand the untimely death of her husband who had been President of the Church for a brief eighteen months, Sister Lee sat in church on the back bench. She had a prayer in her heart for peace. In the midst of her affliction she turned to God for a way back up and out of anguish.
Then the closing song was sung. It was “Though Deepening Trials” [Eliza R. Snow’s great hymn of hope in the Savior]. The last verse particularly comforted her:
“By the time we sang that last verse,” said Sister Lee, “a wonderful lifting assurance had welled up within me. I was at peace. The Comforter had come. All would be well.” [Elaine Cannon, Adversity (Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1987), 117–18]

There are a number of lessons we can learn from Sister Lee’s experience. Note how Sister Lee attended her Church meetings even though she was greatly troubled by the passing of her husband. Note how she had a prayer in her heart. She knew her peace would come from God. She was alert and attentive during the meeting. Note, too, how her answer was found in the words of a simple hymn. In her humility, she recognized the answer when it came to her.

In February 1993 Lamjav Purevsuren became the first native Mongolian baptized in the country. Purevsuren grew up in western Mongolia in a round, felt-lined tent called a ger. His family’s major challenge was providing for their animals during Mongolia’s harsh winters, when temperatures regularly fall as low as 40 degrees below zero Fahrenheit. Several times during the year, the family would dismantle their ger and move elsewhere to find new grazing pastures.
Purevsuren met Elder Stanley Smith when he took Elder Smith’s marketing class at the Mongolian National University. “My classmate Tsendkhuu Bat-Ulzii and I were curious why this American professional would come to Mongolia,” Purevsuren recalls.
“Elder Smith told us about his church and invited us to attend, but he gave us an apartment address. We were very surprised!”
Purevsuren and Bat-Ulzii attended the small service with the missionary couples and agreed to hear the discussions. Both men joined the Church, and Bat-Ulzii was eventually called as president of the Ulaanbaatar Tuul Branch. Total membership in the nation now exceeds 550, with three branches in Ulaanbaatar, one branch in Erdenet, a city of 44,000 located northwest of the capital, and one branch in Darkhan, a city of 65,000 located north of Ulaanbaatar.

One day when Tommy was about eight years old, he and his grandfather were sitting on the front-porch swing. An elderly man from England lived on the same street. His name was Robert Dicks, but most of the neighbors just called him “Old Bob.” He was widowed and poor.

Old Bob came over and sat down on the porch swing with Tommy and his grandfather. He said that the small adobe house where he lived was going to be torn down. He had no family, no money, and nowhere to go.

Tommy wondered how his grandfather would respond to the sad story. His grandfather reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather change purse. He took out a key and put it in Old Bob’s hand. “Mr. Dicks,” he said tenderly, “you can move your things into that empty house of mine next door. It won’t cost you a cent, and you can stay there as long as you like. And remember, nobody is ever going to put you out again.” Tears filled Old Bob’s eyes.

When I was 12 years old, my bishop said I was the right age to become a deacon. The bishop explained that Heavenly Father shares His power with the Church through the priesthood. If I kept the commandments, I could act for Jesus Christ—passing the sacrament, teaching the gospel, and someday giving priesthood blessings to help people who were ill or sad. I wanted to have the priesthood and become that kind of boy. I said I would come to Sunday meetings, trying very hard not to miss.

Soon I was prepared to become a deacon, and my parents came to my ordination. I remember the next Sunday, when I passed the sacrament for the first time. I was assigned to take the bread up to the bishop and then to the others on the stand. As I was walking up the stairs, the sacrament tray came detached from the handle, and the tray and the bread fell onto the floor. I felt as if everyone in the whole universe was looking at me. The bishop came over, put his arm around me, and whispered, “Let’s just pick up this bread and put it in the tray. Then sit down here until they’re through passing the bread, and you can pass the water.” Luckily, I passed the water without any problems. The bishop’s kindness and warmth helped me not to feel embarrassed. I felt a great love for him and was glad that he was my bishop.

My eyes begin to sting as I ride my bicycle through smoke drifting from the barbecue on the side of the street. I close them just long enough to hit a hole in the road, nearly knocking me from my bike. I again focus my attention forward, as we keep riding amid the glare of neon lights and the headlights of the oncoming traffic. Everything seems a little hazy on this hot, muggy December night in Bangkok, Thailand.
Sister Jones and I park our bikes in front of an apartment complex. As we head toward the stairs, I ask, “Who are we going to see?”
“Her name is Nóg,” Sister Jones answers. “She is a 12-year-old girl who was baptized last month.”
I remember hearing about Nóg. She had been referred to the missionaries by her mother, who was not interested in the Church but thought Nóg might like Christianity.
The missionaries had been hesitant to teach a 12-year-old, but as they began to tell Nóg of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, she was captivated. Her eyes never left their faces.
I am touched by the image of this little girl, who works in her family’s flower stand on the side of a busy street, learning about the Savior. I wonder how a little girl could accept the gospel of Jesus Christ, which is so foreign to her Buddhist culture.
We knock on the pale green door and are invited in by Nóg’s mother. Removing our shoes, we enter the one-room apartment. Before we can ask where Nóg is, we hear her voice calling from the balcony, “Sisters, come quickly.”
We step onto the small balcony overlooking the busy street. Nóg grabs me by the hand, points to the sky, and asks, “Can you see them? Can you see the special stars?”
I look up and see a few breaks in the clouds through which stars shine faintly. “Which ones?” I ask.
“The five baby ones, right over there. You can see them only on certain nights,” she answers.
I look again and see a cluster of five tiny stars through the pollution and lights of the enormous city. I ask how she was able to see them twinkling so dimly.
Nóg answers simply, “I look for them every night, and tonight I found them.”
I glance at Nóg, who is gazing intently at the night sky. Her face is peaceful; her countenance shines. They are simple, childlike words, yet I think how similar they are to those spoken by wise, learned men—the Wise Men of old (see Matt. 2:2). How long those Wise Men must have searched the heavens looking for the star. How excited they must have been to see it.
Nóg, a 12-year-old flower girl, learned of Jesus Christ amid the chaos of downtown Bangkok, above the smoke, lights, glitter, and pollution of the world. Nóg had looked for and recognized the words of Christ and eagerly followed, just as the Wise Men did. She is among those who “look forward unto the Messiah, and believe in him” (Jarom 1:11).
How could a little girl so readily accept the gospel of Jesus Christ, so foreign to her family and culture? My question is answered as I stand on a small fourth-floor balcony above the pollution and noise and, with Nóg, look to the heavens.

Illustrated by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
1. Hurrah! Dad’s going to build our playhouse today!
I’m going to start building it, big guy. It’s not a one-day job.
2. C’mon, Daddy, start sawing and hammering! Why are you reading those papers?
They’re the plans for the playhouse.
3. You don’t need plans, Dad. Just make it look like this picture.
I can’t without the plans. They were drawn by someone who knows a lot more about building playhouses than I do.
4. Several days later
Here, Dad, put this board right over there.
Let’s check the plans. It looks like it goes over here, instead, if we want a window in this wall.
5. Still later
Let’s make this bench longer.
Look at the plans, Princess. That wouldn’t leave room for the cupboard.
6. Finally …
Wow, Dad, you’re a good playhouse builder!
Well, I had some good helpers.
And some good plans.

When I came home from meeting with the bishop, I told my husband, who is not a Latter-day Saint, that I was going back to church. He said he thought that would be fine. My announcement thrilled my oldest daughter, age 11 at the time, who had always gone to church alone or with grandparents. When I called my mom and dad on the phone to let them know I had talked to the bishop and was going back to church, I heard them crying. I realized they had looked forward to this day for a long time.

But something happened one Saturday when we went cross-country skiing. The atmosphere in the car on our way to the mountains was tense. My dad was yelling at everyone to be quiet, and my mom was telling us to stop bugging her for food because it was only 10:00 A.M. Noelle was being her usual perfect self, cuddling up to Mom and saying, “Those guys are sure awful, huh Mom?” I was giving Laney my worst glare because she told on me just because I pinched her softly.

Once we arrived, things didn’t get much better. Mom started in on her usual threats. “I just paid 50 bucks for us to have a good time. If I hear one more rude remark, we’re leaving and I mean it!”

Finally we started skiing in stubborn silence. Dad was tense because he’d never been skiing before and was afraid he might embarrass himself in front of us and everyone else on the trail.

Suddenly a steep incline loomed before us. I got going too fast, trying to show off for Dad, and practically ran into a tree. In the nick of time I managed to fall, then lay miserably in the snow moaning and complaining loudly. I was sure I’d done something awful to my leg and wanted to make sure everyone knew. As I lay there groaning, I watched Noelle come flying down the hill and take a nose dive just opposite me. Then we both watched in horror as Mom came speeding down the hill shrieking hysterically and heading straight toward Noelle. Luckily Noelle slid out of the way when Mom crashed to the ground just inches from her. Laney had fallen farther back and was now clawing at the snow trying to stop herself from sliding on down the hill.

Dad, his first time ever on skis, was the only one to survive the treacherous slope. He leaned on his poles at the bottom of the hill, laughing loudly at us and pointing. I think Mom really was hysterical because she couldn’t stop laughing either. We girls sat in the snow whining, then began to giggle. No one bothered to get up, we simply laid in the snow laughing and talking until we calmed down a little. Then we helped each other up and began gliding again.

The remainder of the day was terrific. Laney, Noelle, and I had a great time together, and everyone was in high spirits. We laughed and talked, and afterwards Mom and Dad took us out for hot chocolate.

I had the opportunity to go on a mission to the Fiji Suva Mission at the age of 24 after receiving my Master's Degree. I thought for a long time I was too old to serve a mission but while pursuing a Master's Degree at the University of Arkansas, I had the opportunity to receive my patriarchal blessing which specifically addressed my serving a mission for the Lord. When I received my mission call, I had no idea where the Cook Islands were located, where I was specifically assigned to serve, or the Fiji Islands. I got out the National Geographic Magazines (This was way before Google Search) and excitedly found their locations and read as much as I could about the islands. As my mission came to a conclusion, the Church Educational System man in Fiji approached me about the possibility of coming back to Fiji and teaching in our Church High School that was yet to be built there. I put in my application at his urging and did not think much more about it until approached by CES some three years later having in the meantime been sealed to Sister Bauer in the Oakland California Temple and our having a fifteen month old daughter. We were blessed to go back to Fiji and teach in our Church High School there, The Fiji LDS Technical College; then, some years later, serve as the headmaster of our Church School in Kiribati, Moroni Community School (Now Moroni High School), live in Guam and coordinate seminaries and institutes of religion in Micronesia, live here in Kailua for four years teaching at the Honolulu HI Institute and coordinating seminaries here, and then go over to Hilo and be there for the past 21 and a half years as the Hilo HI Institute Director and coordinating seminaries and institutes of religion for the neighbor islands in the State of Hawaii. During this time we had two of our five children born in Fiji, one while we were in Kiribati, and one in Guam. We have been truly blessed as a family to live in the Pacific Islands among the great people of the islands.

For 50 years, I have studied culture, including gospel culture. I began with fortune cookies.
In San Francisco’s Chinatown, Gong family dinners concluded with a fortune cookie and a wise saying like “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”
As a young adult, I made fortune cookies. Wearing white cotton gloves, I folded and tucked into shape the round cookies hot out of the oven.
To my surprise, I learned fortune cookies are not originally part of Chinese culture. To distinguish Chinese, American, and European fortune cookie culture, I looked for fortune cookies on multiple continents—just as one would use multiple locations to triangulate a forest fire. Chinese restaurants in San Francisco, Los Angeles, and New York serve fortune cookies, but not those in Beijing, London, or Sydney. Only Americans celebrate National Fortune Cookie Day. Only Chinese advertisements offer “Authentic American Fortune Cookies.”
Fortune cookies are a fun, simple example. But the same principle of comparing practices in different cultural settings can help us distinguish gospel culture. And now the Lord is opening new opportunities to learn gospel culture as Book of Mormon allegory and New Testament parable prophecies are fulfilled.
Everywhere people are moving. The United Nations reports 281 million international migrants. This is 128 million more individuals than in 1990 and more than three times 1970 estimates. Everywhere, record numbers of converts are finding The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Every Sabbath, members and friends from 195 birth countries and territories gather in 31,916 Church congregations. We speak 125 languages.
Recently, in Albania, North Macedonia, Kosovo, Switzerland, and Germany, I witnessed new members fulfilling the Book of Mormon allegory of the olive tree. In Jacob 5, the Lord of the vineyard and his servants strengthen both olive tree roots and branches by gathering and grafting together those from diverse locations. Today children of God gather as one in Jesus Christ; the Lord offers a remarkable natural means to expand our lived fulness of His restored gospel.
Preparing us for the kingdom of heaven, Jesus tells the parables of the great supper and wedding feast. In these parables, invited guests make excuses not to come. The master instructs his servants to “go out quickly into the streets and lanes of the city” and “the highways and hedges” to “bring in hither” the poor, maimed, halt, and blind. Spiritually speaking, that’s each of us.
Scripture declares:
“All nations shall be invited” unto “a supper of the house of the Lord.”
“Prepare ye the way of the Lord, … that his kingdom may go forth upon the earth, that the inhabitants thereof may receive it, and be prepared for the days to come.”
Today those invited to the supper of the Lord come from every place and culture. Old and young, rich and poor, local and global, we make our Church congregations look like our communities.
As chief Apostle, Peter saw heaven open a vision of “a great sheet knit at the four corners, … wherein were all manner of … beasts.” Taught Peter: “Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons. … In every nation he that feareth [the Lord], and worketh righteousness, is accepted with him.”
In the parable of the good Samaritan, Jesus invites us to come to each other and to Him in His inn—His Church. He invites us to be good neighbors. The good Samaritan promises to return and recompense the care of those in His inn. Living the gospel of Jesus Christ includes making room for all in His restored Church.
The spirit of “room in the inn” includes “no one sits alone.” When you come to church, if you see someone alone, will you please say hello and sit with him or her? This may not be your custom. The person may look or speak differently than you. And of course, as a fortune cookie might say, “A journey of gospel friendship and love begins with a first hello and no one sitting alone.”
“No one sits alone” also means no one sits alone emotionally or spiritually. I went with a brokenhearted father to visit his son. Years earlier, the son was excited to become a new deacon. The occasion included his family buying him his first pair of new shoes.
But at church, the deacons laughed at him. His shoes were new, but not fashionable. Embarrassed and hurt, the young deacon said he would never go again to church. My heart is still broken for him and his family.
On the dusty roads to Jericho, each of us has been laughed at, embarrassed and hurt, perhaps scorned or abused. And with varying degrees of intent, each of us has also disregarded, not seen or heard, perhaps deliberately hurt others. It is precisely because we have been hurt and have hurt others that Jesus Christ brings us all to His inn. In His Church and through His ordinances and covenants, we come to each other and to Jesus Christ. We love and are loved, serve and are served, forgive and are forgiven. Please remember, “earth has no sorrow that heav’n cannot heal”; earth burdens lighten—our Savior’s joy is real.
In 1 Nephi 19, we read: “Even the very God of Israel do [they] trample under their feet; … they set him at naught. … Wherefore they scourge him, and he suffereth it; and they smite him, and he suffereth it. Yea, they spit upon him, and he suffereth it.”
My friend Professor Terry Warner says the judging, scourging, smiting, and spitting were not occasional events that occurred only during Christ’s mortal life. How we treat each other—especially the hungry, the thirsty, those left out alone—is how we treat Him.
In His restored Church, we are all better when no one sits alone. Let us not simply accommodate or tolerate. Let us genuinely welcome, acknowledge, minister to, love. May each friend, sister, brother not be a foreigner or stranger but a child at home.
Today many feel lonely and isolated. Social media and artificial intelligence can leave us yearning for human closeness and human touch. We want to hear each other’s voices. We want authentic belonging and kindness.
There are many reasons we may feel we do not fit in at church—that, speaking figuratively, we sit alone. We may worry about our accent, clothes, family situation. Perhaps we feel inadequate, smell of smoke, yearn for moral cleanliness, have broken up with someone and feel hurt and embarrassed, are concerned about this or that Church policy. We may be single, divorced, widowed. Our children are noisy; we don’t have children. We didn’t serve a mission or came home early. The list goes on.
Mosiah 18:21 invites us to knit our hearts together in love. I invite us to worry less, judge less, be less demanding of others—and, when needed, be less hard on ourselves. We do not create Zion in a day. But each “hello,” each warm gesture, brings Zion closer. Let us trust the Lord more and choose joyfully to obey all His commandments.
Doctrinally, in the household of faith and fellowship of the Saints, no one sits alone because of covenant belonging in Jesus Christ.
Taught the Prophet Joseph Smith: “It is left for us to see, participate in and help to roll forward the Latter-day glory, ‘the dispensation of the fullness of times … ,’ when the Saints of God will be gathered in one from every nation, and kindred, and people.”
God “doeth not anything save it be for the benefit of the world; … that he may draw all men [and women] unto him. …
“… He inviteth them all to come unto him and partake of his goodness; … and all are alike unto God.”
Conversion in Jesus Christ requires us to put off the natural man and worldly culture. As President Dallin H. Oaks teaches, we are to give up any tradition and cultural practice that is contrary to the commandments of God and to become Latter-day Saints. He explains, “There is a unique gospel culture, a set of values and expectations and practices common to all [the] members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” Gospel culture includes chastity, weekly attendance at church, abstaining from alcohol, tobacco, tea, and coffee. It includes honesty and integrity, understanding we move forward, not upward or downward, in Church positions.
I learn from faithful members and friends in every land and culture. Scriptures studied in multiple languages and cultural perspectives deepen gospel understanding. Different expressions of Christlike attributes deepen my love and understanding of my Savior. All are blessed when we define our cultural identity, as President Russell M. Nelson taught, as a child of God, a child of the covenant, a disciple of Jesus Christ.
The peace of Jesus Christ is meant for us personally. Recently a young man earnestly asked, “Elder Gong, can I still go to heaven?” He wondered if he could ever be forgiven. I asked his name, listened carefully, invited him to talk with his bishop, gave him a big hug. He left with hope in Jesus Christ.
I mentioned the young man in another setting. Later I received an unsigned letter that began, “Elder Gong, my wife and I have raised nine kids … and served two missions.” But “I always felt I would not be allowed in the celestial kingdom … because my sins as a youth were so bad!”
The letter continued, “Elder Gong, when you told about the young man gaining hope of forgiveness, I was filled with joy, beginning to realize that maybe I [could be forgiven].” The letter concludes, “I even like myself now!”
Covenant belonging deepens as we come to each other and to the Lord in His inn. The Lord blesses us all when no one sits alone. And who knows? Maybe the person we sit next to may become our best fortune cookie friend. May we find and make place for Him and each other at the supper of the Lamb, I humbly pray in the holy name of Jesus Christ, amen.

In Alvin F. Meredith’s final year of high school in Tennessee, USA, he was selected as his school’s athlete of the year by a group of Christian student athletes.
Shortly afterward, his coach notified him that the state leadership of the group had disqualified him because they didn’t recognize The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as a Christian faith.
His coach, “a really good Christian man,” asked the organization to send someone to the school to meet with the young athlete. The organization’s representative came to the high school and explained 10 points of doctrine that he felt justified their decision to disqualify the Latter-day Saint athlete. Upon seeing a Bible in the man’s bag, Elder Meredith asked if the two of them could review some verses.
“We looked at each of those 10 points and went to Chronicles and James and the book of Revelation and Corinthians,” Elder Meredith said. “My faith was challenged, and through the fire of that challenge, it was strengthened and has never wavered since.”

Sally Ann’s new home was lovely. She had a big yard to play in and a pretty room with red and white butterflies on the curtains.
But she didn’t have any new friends to play with yet. Her only playmate was her dog, Casper. She would call out, “Catch me if you can,” and run around the big yard. Casper would run after her. When he reached her, he would bark as if to say, “I caught you. Now let’s play another game.”
One day Sally Ann didn’t stay in the big yard when she called to Casper, “Catch me if you can.” Instead, she ran down the sidewalk past a red-haired boy who was bouncing a big blue ball. The boy thought that Sally Ann was calling to him, so he ran after her and Casper, shouting, “I can catch you!”
They passed two girls with long yellow pigtails who were jumping rope. When the two girls heard Sally Ann call out “Catch me if you can,” they stopped jumping rope and started running after Sally Ann and Casper and the red-haired boy.
The next time that Sally Ann called out “Catch me if you can,” she was passing a house where a dark-eyed boy was reading on the front steps. He put down his book and ran after Sally Ann and Casper and the red-haired boy and the two girls with long yellow pigtails. They all shouted to Sally Ann, “I can catch you!”
And they all did. But by that time, Sally Ann was back in her own yard. She said, “You all caught me. I’m Sally Ann, and this is my dog, Casper. Would you like to play another game?”
The red-haired boy and the two girls with long yellow pigtails and the dark-eyed boy all shouted, “Yes!” Casper barked his yes, too, and they played lots of games all afternoon.
Sally Ann loved her new home with the big yard and her room with the red and white butterflies on the curtains. And now, besides Casper, she had new friends to play with.

“Life’s a disaster,” Travis mumbled, slouching into the bench at the back of the chapel. It was Sister Stott’s last Sunday in the ward, and he hadn’t felt this bad since he fell off his skateboard into a muddy ravine.
He scanned the chapel, looking for Sister Stott, his Valiant teacher. She had just finished teaching his Primary class and now was sitting in her favorite spot, the center of the second row. Her shiny brown hair hung over the back of the bench as she hugged her one-year-old daughter, Tiffany.
I don’t care if I ever go to Primary again, Travis decided, looking away.
Now she was leaving. Travis’s stomach knotted up as the bishop read her name to be released. Staring at the podium, he raised his hand in a vote of thanks.
As Bishop Olson read names to be sustained to new callings, Travis gripped the bench in front of him. Who will be my new teacher? He wondered. It could be Brother Coty, probably the strongest man in the ward. Or maybe Sister Campbell. Every year she won a blue ribbon for her homemade pie at the state fair.
Travis sighed. It didn’t matter who his new teacher was—class would never be the same.
Bishop Olson shuffled through his papers at the podium. “We have called Brother Rolf Meyer as Valiant teacher in the Primary.”
Travis stared at the bishop. Brother Meyer! Travis was sure Bishop Olson had made a mistake. Brother Meyer had to be a hundred years old, and he walked with a cane. Because of his German accent, he was also a little hard to understand. Even so, Travis raised his hand to sustain his new teacher.
After sacrament meeting, Travis stopped to look out the large glass door in the foyer.
“Hello, Travis.”
Travis jerked around.
Smiling, Sister Stott moved Tiffany from one hip to the other. “I just wanted to tell you how much I’ve enjoyed being your teacher.”
Travis dug his shoe into the carpet as he looked away.
“Travis,” she said softly, “you’re going to learn a lot from Brother Meyer. You know that, don’t you?”
Shrugging, Travis slowly lifted his eyes to meet Sister Stott’s.
She placed her hand on Travis’s slumped shoulder. “Can I teach you one more thing before I leave?”
“Sure,” Travis muttered, wishing she hadn’t reminded him of her move.
Sister Stott bent slightly to be at eye level with Travis. “There are lots of ways to teach. If you give Brother Meyer a chance, just like you gave me, you’ll learn more than you’ve ever imagined.” Smiling, she stood up.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it,” Sister Stott said, nodding. “Remember it.”
“I will.” He pushed open the heavy door and ran across the parking lot to his family’s station wagon.
As he scanned the parking lot, the only other person outside was Jennifer Mizway, practically on her knees, staring at the rear tire of her mother’s car. Travis knew she had just gotten her driver’s license. Normally, he’d ask if he could help, but this afternoon he wasn’t in the mood.
The rear door of the meetinghouse opened, and out stepped Brother Meyer. He slowly made his way across the parking lot and called something to Jennifer. Reaching her car, he set his cane against it, then bent down to examine the tire.
Travis watched as Brother Meyer and Jennifer struggled to pull a spare tire out of the trunk of the car. The tire slipped from their hands, bouncing twice before falling with a thud in front of them.
“Brother Meyer, Jennifer,” Travis hollered, going over to the car, “let me help.”
“You know how to change tire?” Brother Meyer’s German accent brought life to his words.
“No,” Travis replied as he came up to them, “but you can tell me what to do.”
“Das ist gut (This is good)!” Brother Meyer nodded at Travis and signaled him to pull out the jack from the trunk.
Pumping the jack, Travis listened as Jennifer told them how grateful she was for their help. Her father had taken her mother home early with the flu, and they would worry that she’d had an accident if she was late getting home.
Travis stopped pumping to rub away the burning sensation in his upper arm.
“Here.” Brother Meyer handed his cane to Travis. “I show you a trick to help.” Bending on one knee, he pulled out the jack’s lever and inserted his cane into the opening where the lever had been. “My cane is longer. It will be easier to pump now.”
Travis began to pump again. A smile spread across his face as his arm moved faster with less effort. “It is easier!”
As Travis set the hubcap on the tire, he felt a thumping on his leg. Turning, he saw Brother Meyer smiling.
“Is good to help, ja (yes)?” Brother Meyer asked.
Travis smiled. “Yeah, it is. Well, I’d better get going.”
He and his father arrived at the station wagon at the same time.
“Is everything all right?” Father asked.
“Yep.”
“Your mother and I were worried. We know how you feel about Sister Stott. She was a special teacher, wasn’t she?”
“Yeah, she was.” Travis waved to Brother Meyer as he got into the car.
Rolling down his window, Travis thought about Jennifer dejectedly examining the tire. He thought about Brother Meyer tapping him with his cane, saying “Is good to help, ja?”
Valiant class was going to be different, Travis decided, but he had a feeling that one thing wouldn’t change—he was going to learn a lot this year.

Nestled on the southern edge of New Jersey are several small towns. Many of the families here earn their living from the sea. The Cape May Lighthouse guides the fishing boats and ferries around the dangerous rocks and shoals. Just as the lighthouse leads boats to safety, Chandler and Michael Altieri trust the gospel light to guide them past spiritual rocks and shoals.
Sister Christine Altieri joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when she was ten years old. Although she did not marry a Church member, her husband, John, supported her in her beliefs. One by one their children were born: Corie (15), Lauren (13), Brittany (12), Michael (10), Chandler (7), Ty (5), Abigail (2), and Drew (11 months). Their family shared a lot of happiness and love. But one thing was missing: Dad had never joined the Church. He attended regularly and participated as fully as he could without being a member. But his family wanted him to become a member so that they could be sealed together as an eternal family.
Michael was going on eight. His dad had never had the opportunity to give a name and a priesthood blessing to or baptize any of his children. A few months before his birthday, Michael decided that, “All I want for my birthday is for Dad to baptize me.” Michael, his mother, brother, and sisters fasted and prayed harder than ever that their father would decide to join the Church and be able to baptize Michael.
Weeks passed, then months. “We kept praying and praying and praying,” Michael recalled. The week before he turned eight, his mother said, “It didn’t work. We need to talk to the branch president about your baptism and who will perform it.”
“But Mom, we’re praying, we’re praying.”
The next Sunday Brother Altieri volunteered to talk to the branch president about Michael getting baptized and to take care of all the details.
In sacrament meeting, the family was stunned with joy when the branch president announced an upcoming baptism—not Michael’s, but his father’s! The family’s prayers had been answered! Brother Altieri was baptized that week, and the following week, Michael’s dream was realized when his father baptized him. Michael said, “I had really wanted him to baptize me, and it finally happened. It felt really good.”
Chandler had also prayed that her dad would be baptized. She is now looking forward to her own baptism. “I want to be baptized so that the Holy Ghost will be with me.” She is preparing to be baptized by listening to President Gordon B. Hinckley and following his counsel. “I try to choose the right and to be kind to others.”
The Altieri family was later sealed together in the Washington D.C. Temple. “When we were sealed, Mom and Dad had to go somewhere for about three hours,” Michael remembered. “We stayed in this nursery place. We picked out white clothes and put them on. A temple lady showed us a movie that explained what being sealed was all about. At first she put in the wrong film. It was in Spanish. I thought maybe we needed to learn to speak Spanish. But then she put in the film in English. After the film, we went into the sealing room. Some other people were there, even the stake president. Then we were sealed, and I was so happy!”
Chandler still has the white ribbon she wore in her hair that day in the temple. “We were sealed so that we can be together for all eternity.”
Besides seeing his family sealed together, Michael has another hope—of becoming a champion wrestler. He’s been undefeated for three years in his weight and age division in the South New Jersey Wrestling Association. But sometimes he has to make tough choices between two things he loves—wrestling and the Church.
A few years ago, a very important tournament was coming up. Michael’s parents thought that the tournament was on a Saturday, and he signed up to go. When they found out it was on a Sunday, his father asked him if he still wanted to be in the tournament. Although he knew that his team was counting on him to score some team points for it, he said, “Well then, I can’t go.” He explained, “It’s hard not to go to Sunday tournaments, but I don’t, because it’s against a commandment. And I’ve had a lot of blessings.” Since making that decision the first time, not competing on Sundays has been easier. And his decision has showed others that he lives what he believes.
Chandler also lives what she believes. Not long ago her family was fostering a dog they called Puppy. Puppy had been mistreated the first nine months of his life, then was taken away from the people who mistreated him. But he was now skittish and frightened of people. Before he could be adopted, he had to learn to trust people and to get along with children. Teaching him that was what the Altieri family volunteered to do.
One day, he got loose and ran away. “We looked and looked for him,” Sister Altieri said, “but we couldn’t find him. Some of us got in the car to go looking for him. As I was driving, Chandler said a prayer, asking Heavenly Father to help us find Puppy. We had driven miles, and I thought that we’d never see the dog again. We turned down a road that ran along railroad tracks. Beside the tracks were thick woods. And by the railroad track, we could just see this head sticking up—it was Puppy! I’ll never forget it.”
Mom said how amazed she was that they found Puppy. “But we said a prayer, Mom,” was Chandler’s simple reply. She knows that Heavenly Father answers her prayers. Eventually Puppy learned to trust people and to play with children, and he was adopted by a good family.
Michael tries to be like Jesus by staying out of bad situations. “Sometimes my friends go back into the woods, but I don’t go. They do things back in there that I don’t want to do, like shooting off firecrackers (which is illegal), starting fires, and smoking.” One fire that was started in the woods came right up to the back of the Altieri property before it could be put out. “I tell my friends, ‘Let’s not go.’ Sometimes they listen to me, and sometimes they don’t. But I won’t go.”
Both Michael and Chandler strive to follow the gospel light as they make their way through life’s sea of choices. And by their examples they try to help others find the way, too.