Gospel Story Finder

Allow me to share some of the miraculous blessings from letters and accounts I have received over the past four years. A humble couple from Idaho met fear with faith when the Lord called them to Russia. They wrote the following acceptance letter: “No one would have imagined we would be called to this assignment. We have no idea how we will learn the language or manage to be of service, and although we accept with much trepidation, going completely on faith, we know that the Lord and His prophet know more than we do where we should serve.” Ten months later the Stockholm Sweden Temple welcomed 30 Saints from a small branch in Russia led by this couple from Idaho who had barely begun to learn the Russian language. The scriptures tell us, “God has provided a means that man, through faith, might work mighty miracles.” Thus, God’s work is carried out by His children, “that faith also might increase in the earth, … that the fulness of my gospel might be proclaimed by the weak and the simple unto the ends of the world.”

Another athlete, Ed Maisey, a returned missionary from the Korea Seoul Mission, had a rather unique experience—he wrestled his way into discussions! At one time Ed was assigned to work on a military base. The missionaries were not allowed to actively proselyte on the base, although they could teach the gospel if approached. Ed became the assistant coach to the high school wrestling team, and through this contact met many people who later received the discussions.
While in Seoul he was introduced to Olympic medalist Yong Jung Mo. They became friends, and Ed worked out with Mr. Yong and the national team. As thrilling as that must have been, though, Ed contends that his most rewarding experiences were in proselyting. Wrestling was simply another tool for opening doors.
Ed earned many championships following his mission: Unfortunately, he suffered a dislocated shoulder during the National Collegiate Athletic Association finals. He still did exceptionally well, according to Ben Ohai, his assistant coach. During the round in which he was injured while wrestling the defending champion, the score was 11-14. He took sixth in the nation.
Ed was selected BYU student athlete of the year for 1978–79 and entered Nebraska’s dental school this fall as a National Collegiate Athletic Association post-graduate scholar.
Although some missionaries do return and do not continue in sports, it is usually due to a change in interests rather than inability. Ed, Mark, and Lance are convinced that any athlete who serves a mission will be able to regain his previous ability upon diligently applying himself.

Our second son lived much of his youth apart from the Church. When he turned 20, he had an experience that made him want to change his life. With love, prayers, and help from his family and members of the Church, and ultimately through the compassion and grace of the Lord, he returned to the Church.

He was later called to serve in the Washington Seattle Mission. He initially suffered great discouragement. Every night for the first three months, he would go into the bathroom and cry. Like Elder Cowan, he sought to understand “Why am I here?”
After he served for a year, we received an email that was an answer to our prayers. He wrote: “Right now I can really feel the love of God and of Jesus. I will work hard to become like the prophets of old. Though I am also experiencing a lot of difficulties, I am truly happy. Serving Jesus really is the best thing ever. There is nothing as wonderful as this. I am so happy.”

He felt as Alma did: “And oh, what joy, and what marvelous light I did behold; yea, my soul was filled with joy as exceeding as was my pain!”

One elder who was transferred from another mission wanted to go home. He knew his parents and bishop wanted him to stay and complete his mission. In one of the many interviews we had, he said that five previous elders in his ward had abandoned their missions and had returned home early. I thought what a great disservice the first elder did to the other young men who followed his poor example. I made a solemn vow that this elder would not go home until his mission was completed successfully. Every week for thirteen to fifteen weeks he would write in his letter to the president all the reasons he should be released from his mission. Each week I wrote a letter of response.
After all these weeks I received a letter which appeared the same as the others—until I got to the P.S. He said, “President, you are winning and you know it.” I sat in my office, and tears filled my eyes.
Vince Lombardi said, “The harder you fight for something, the harder it is to surrender.” This elder completed his mission as a great presiding zone leader. He has a great warmth and a great talent to teach; he loves and cares for people; and he is extremely spiritual. He returned home with an honorable release from a very successful mission, married a beautiful girl in the temple, and now they live near the temple where they visit regularly. This elder set a great example for all prospective missionaries from his ward.

I’d have to say that it all started with a bad attitude. When I was about ten years old, I formed the opinion that most people around me weren’t as “good” as they thought they were. This feeling of disillusionment grew as I grew.
While there were other youth in the ward, even others my age, who enjoyed church and got something out of it, my friends and I became the group that caused so many problems for their Sunday School teachers that the teachers would quit. And we were proud of making them quit.
The members of the ward really didn’t approve of our attitude toward them and toward life, and some of them just gave up trying to help us. Some did not. We had a very patient bishop and some great leaders. Most of them, however, we considered to be hypocrites, and we used what we saw as their weaknesses as an excuse for our own behavior.
In my early teenage years, this same group of boys and girls excelled in scholarship, athletics, and popularity. We had a lot of fun and decided we didn’t need and didn’t want the Church. When “forced” to enroll in seminary, most of us managed to get ourselves expelled.
We didn’t really give in to peer pressure—we exerted it. We were among the first of our age group to start drinking. We were the first to smoke marijuana and experiment with other drugs. We saw the chance to make some money in it, and so we involved others to increase our own profits by dealing in drugs. We were living a life of luxury. Immorality also became a part of our lives.
Some of my friends resisted. They said we were stupid, that there was no way they’d get involved. But by the time we got out of high school a few years ago, only one hadn’t given in. He took a lot of verbal abuse and pressure, but he remained strong. I have more respect for him than for any other guy my age.
We went to more parties than anyone else in the school. The scriptures say, “Ye shall know them by their fruits” (Matt. 7:16). I don’t know all the fruits of our behavior, and I’m thankful for that. I do know many of them, though. Many of my friends that I grew up with, even some top students, leaders, and athletes, quit school. One committed suicide. Most have spent time in court, and some in jail, for a variety of things. I knew a lot of girls who had babies or abortions while in high school. Others became prostitutes.
I quit taking drugs when I had some serious health problems. I almost died a few times—many times actually, both from overdosing on drugs and driving while I was unable to control my actions. One night I was bored, so I took every kind of stimulant I could find and then I sat and watched television while my pulse dropped to 20 beats per minute. I forced myself to stay awake, because I felt that if I went to sleep I wouldn’t wake up.
In order to take control of my life, I had to leave my friends. Afterwards I tried to help them quit too. A few of my old friends came with me, but most really didn’t care anymore.
After I quit drugs, I turned to alcohol. I can honestly say I was a high school alcoholic. When I decided I wanted to quit, I couldn’t—at least not by myself. I didn’t care enough about myself to do what I knew I needed to do.
Then I became close friends with a good, active Latter-day Saint girl. She couldn’t understand what I was experiencing, but she did know I was honestly trying to get out of the mess I was in. It hurt her when I slipped back into my bad habits. I finally quit drinking because I knew it hurt her, and I knew I couldn’t lie to her.
Keeping my morals straight was so hard under my weakened condition that I avoided any social contacts with girls except with ones as good as my Latter-day Saint friend.
I hadn’t prayed for years, but I finally had to go to my knees. I was afraid to, because I knew my guilt. That first time, honestly wanting to change and repent, was the biggest turning point in my life.
I tried to pray, but I couldn’t. I started to cry, the first time in years, and I felt like I was being torn apart inside. I fell over, still in a kneeling position, and my body went into convulsions. I kept praying in my mind, “Please help me!”
I almost fell unconscious. Then the physical pain passed, and I just lay there crying. I had a long way to go to clean up my life, but I knew that the first step was the hardest. I didn’t understand the Atonement, but the feeling of peace and comfort that engulfed me left no doubt that it was real.
There was a lot more. You see, chemical substances that are used to cover or bury emotions tend to cripple a person emotionally, because you stop growing. I recovered pretty well physically and mentally. I started progressing spiritually. But emotionally I was a mess. The girl who helped me so much for so long didn’t understand that, and I lost her as a friend while trying to overcome the scars of the past. She saw the outward changes and thought that was the hard part. The hardest struggle was inside me, emotionally. My pride was a fierce adversary, and the painful memories sometimes sent me into depression.
I still have a long way to go, and a lot of work to do. I am now trying to help other people with similar problems. It has taken a few years so far to get to where I am, and I’ve done a lot of fasting and praying. When I look back, the memories hurt. I know now that we learn through experience, from our successes and our mistakes. I just wish I could have learned more without the burdens and scars that came with my method of learning—mostly from my mistakes.
I put myself through a lot of pain, and my spirit cries out in pain when I see others following me. Young men, young women, think about yourselves and your friends. Before you give in to temptation—and believe me, pride and a bad attitude are temptations—think about the effect your actions will have on others, and on yourself in the years to come.
It is always possible to repent and come back. But it is so much better not to begin. Please, please, don’t give in. You will never regret staying pure, keeping the Word of Wisdom, coming home on time—the rules are there for a reason. I have seen the results of ignoring the rules, of saying, “That won’t happen to me.” My friends and I knew that no matter how clean a girl was morally, if we could get her drunk or get her to use drugs, she would eventually give in.
The first step down is the easiest, and the first step back is the hardest. When you’re on your way down, there are a lot of people who are eager to help you, but the farther down you go, the more alone you will be when and if you start back.
I have gained a strong testimony of the truth of the gospel. My fellow Latter-day Saints are still not perfect, but I finally realized that their imperfection doesn’t make the gospel any less true. It just shows that they, too, are human.
I know the power and reality of the adversary, but now I know the power and reality of the Lord and of the priesthood, and I know that “they that be with us are more than they that be with them” (2 Kgs. 6:15–17).
Never be ashamed to be innocent. I admire and envy people who still have their innocence. Once innocence is lost, it is gone. Please, be strong. More people than you will ever know are counting on you—your friends, family, and unborn children. Don’t disappoint them.

Returning to BYU after faithfully serving a mission, Ty Mansfield, a beloved friend and colleague came face-to-face with the reality of his same-sex attraction, something he could not just push away, but seemed to be inherent to his mortality. He wrestled. What did this mean for the core dreams of his life, his relationships, his future family? What did this mean for his testimony and faith in the plan of salvation?

All that the world could offer him was a false, all-or-nothing choice captured poignantly in the words of faithful member Bennett Borden: “I can act on my feelings, be in a gay relationship, feel like I’ve got some...connection, and be out of the Church. Or I can keep my covenants, stay in the Church, and die a horrible, lonely death…” [23] It was irreconcilable. He had felt the reality of the Lord’s love for him, taking his heart from shame. But he did not know how to go forward. He could not bear to think of life without deep relationships, and he could not bear to leave the God and Church he loved. He desperately needed direction and comfort.

During a particularly difficult period, he went to general conference fasting. He describes, “As soon as the opening prayer was given, I was completely enveloped by a spiritual feeling...For nearly two hours, all the hurt, the pain, the confusion, the frustration [was] completely gone. In [its] place was a feeling of divine love I had also never experienced. As a part of [it], there was a feeling of what I perceived as pure celestial love and desire to be with a daughter of God in the most holy, connected, and uniting of ways. The world’s portrayal of love and romance seemed so shallow and “false” in comparison. With the feeling came the words: ‘Just stay with me. If you do, this is the feeling you will someday feel—and it will be a permanent part of your being.’ And then suddenly, as the end of the session approached, the feeling left. I didn’t know how I would eventually grow into that feeling as an integral part of my being, but I trusted that God would lead me there.” [24]

Ty did not know then what awaited him, including marriage and five remarkable children. But foundational to any of those miraculous gifts was the profound invitation from His Redeemer, “Just stay with me.”

“Want some candy?” José held out a brown piece of candy to his friend Pedro as they rode home from school together on the city bus.
“Sure,” Pedro said. He reached out to take the candy and popped it into his mouth.
José picked out a yellow candy from the small bag. The boys were quiet as the bus rumbled along. Their city in Argentina was large. They had a long bus ride each day to get to school. José’s mamá always gave him money to buy a little bag of candy to help pass the time.
“Want some more?” José held out a handful of brown candies.
“Yeah, thanks!” Pedro said. “Why don’t you like them? They’re really good.”
José paused for a moment to think and licked his lips. “I guess because they are coffee flavored.”
“Why don’t you like coffee flavor? It’s so good.”
“Well, I’m a Mormon, and we don’t drink coffee, so I guess I’m not used to the flavor.”
Pedro looked confused. “What’s a Mormon? And why don’t you drink coffee?”
“A Mormon is someone who is a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We believe that God wants us to take care of our bodies, so we don’t drink coffee, tea, or alcohol. And we don’t smoke.”
“But this is just candy,” Pedro said. “It’s not real coffee.”
“I know,” said José. “But I still don’t want to eat it.”
Pedro nodded. “Well, you can give me all the brown ones. What else does your Church teach you?”
“Every Sunday we go to church and learn about Jesus and Heavenly Father. We also learn lots of fun songs. Actually, all of the kids are going to sing and talk in our Church meeting this Sunday. Why don’t you ask your mom if you can come to church with me? You can meet the missionaries too.”
“OK,” Pedro said. “Do they have any coffee-flavored candy they want to get rid of too?”
José laughed. “No, but they have something even better to share!”

Let me tell you my personal experience. I grew up in California, away from the heart of the Church. But I never sensed that separation. I loved my ward in California. Going to Church and participating was simply our way of life. In those early years, the sacrament meetings I remember the most were the ones that involved missionaries either leaving on their missions or coming home. I so admired the faith and courage of those who left. As I watched the faith of those who were leaving on missions, and as I observed the purity and strength of those who came back, I knew that, someday, I wanted to be a missionary. I wanted to be like them – full of faith and goodness, and that feeling never left me. At the start of 9th grade, my family moved back to Salt Lake City and I began those wonderful high school years. There were new friends, new influences and new interests.

We had a large ward with many young men in the ward. There was also an escalating war in Vietnam that had an enormous impact on the ability of young men to serve missions. Because there was a draft, coupled with mandatory military service for those who were drafted, the Church entered into an agreement by which the number of missionaries that could be sent each year was limited to two missionaries per ward. Under the system where each ward could send only two each year, it would be many, many years before I would be able to serve.

By July 1970, I had finished the first year of college and would turn missionary age in August. Earlier that year I had met Mary, and by July, we were very much in love.

One hot, July afternoon, I returned home from work, and my mother said to me, “The bishop called. He wants to see you.” I asked “When?” and was told that he wanted to see me “now” at the ward. I went to the ward and found Bishop Matheson waiting for me in his office. I could soon tell that this was not an ordinary interview. After making the needed inquiries about me and my life, Bishop Matheson said: “David, it is very unusual, but we have been given the blessing of sending one more missionary this year. Because this was unexpected, as a bishopric we determined to ask the Lord who He would send now. David, what I can tell you is that ‘now’ is the time the Lord would have you serve your mission.” I had no idea that this is what we would be talking about. I had always wanted to go, but I was stunned at the statement that “now” was the time that the Lord would have me serve. I asked for a week to think about it. I left and got into the car and drove around for about an hour, ending back at the ward. Bishop Matheson was alone in his office. I asked him what he was doing, and he said that he was “waiting for me.”

I knew I wanted to serve a mission but hadn’t thought I could. Do you ever feel that way? The thought that God was aware of me and that there was a time when He wanted me to serve, and a place and people He had prepared had never occurred to me. To the bishop I said, “Bishop, if ‘now’ is the time the Lord would have me serve, of course I will go.” That was July. In August, I received my call to serve in the Japan Mission.

On October 10, 1970, I entered the Salt Lake Mission Home (we didn’t have an MTC in those days) and after a period of studying Japanese here in Hawaii, I was soon on my way to Japan, arriving on December 10, 1970. During my mission, I grew. My testimony became sure. I came home clean and anxious for whatever the Lord would have me do next in my life.

Gratefully, Mary waited, and three months after my mission ended, we were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple. Since that time, we have been blessed with eight wonderful children and 28 grandchildren.

Through it all, we have been anchored and blessed by the gospel of Jesus Christ and the faith we gained during my missionary service. Together, our faith and testimony have grown as we have stood together and met life’s challenges. Together, we have the assurance and witness that God is our Father, that His Son is our Savior and that we are led by Prophets and Apostles. All of this, in one way or another, is the result of having made the commitment to offer to the Lord two years of my life as a missionary. Indeed, everything good that has happened in my life -- or our life -- can be traced to the decision to serve a mission for the Lord. Every strength we had together had to be “faithened” in order for me to accept the call, and for Mary to let me go.

The setting for my final example of one who persevered and ultimately prevailed, despite overwhelmingly difficult circumstances, begins in East Prussia following World War II.
In about March 1946, less than a year after the end of the war, Ezra Taft Benson, then a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, accompanied by Frederick W. Babbel, was assigned a special postwar tour of Europe for the express purpose of meeting with the Saints, assessing their needs, and providing assistance to them. Elder Benson and Brother Babbel later recounted, from a testimony they heard, the experience of a Church member who found herself in an area no longer controlled by the government under which she had resided.
She and her husband had lived an idyllic life in East Prussia. Then had come the second great world war within their lifetimes. Her beloved young husband was killed during the final days of the frightful battles in their homeland, leaving her alone to care for their four children.
The occupying forces determined that the Germans in East Prussia must go to Western Germany to seek a new home. The woman was German, and so it was necessary for her to go. The journey was over a thousand miles (1,600 km), and she had no way to accomplish it but on foot. She was allowed to take only such bare necessities as she could load into her small wooden-wheeled wagon. Besides her children and these meager possessions, she took with her a strong faith in God and in the gospel as revealed to the latter-day prophet Joseph Smith.
She and the children began the journey in late summer. Having neither food nor money among her few possessions, she was forced to gather a daily subsistence from the fields and forests along the way. She was constantly faced with dangers from panic-stricken refugees and plundering troops.
As the days turned into weeks and the weeks to months, the temperatures dropped below freezing. Each day, she stumbled over the frozen ground, her smallest child—a baby—in her arms. Her three other children struggled along behind her, with the oldest—seven years old—pulling the tiny wooden wagon containing their belongings. Ragged and torn burlap was wrapped around their feet, providing the only protection for them, since their shoes had long since disintegrated. Their thin, tattered jackets covered their thin, tattered clothing, providing their only protection against the cold.
Soon the snows came, and the days and nights became a nightmare. In the evenings she and the children would try to find some kind of shelter—a barn or a shed—and would huddle together for warmth, with a few thin blankets from the wagon on top of them.
She constantly struggled to force from her mind overwhelming fears that they would perish before reaching their destination.
And then one morning the unthinkable happened. As she awakened, she felt a chill in her heart. The tiny form of her three-year-old daughter was cold and still, and she realized that death had claimed the child. Though overwhelmed with grief, she knew that she must take the other children and travel on. First, however, she used the only implement she had—a tablespoon—to dig a grave in the frozen ground for her tiny, precious child.
Death, however, was to be her companion again and again on the journey. Her seven-year-old son died, either from starvation or from freezing or both. Again her only shovel was the tablespoon, and again she dug hour after hour to lay his mortal remains gently into the earth. Next, her five-year-old son died, and again she used her tablespoon as a shovel.
Her despair was all-consuming. She had only her tiny baby daughter left, and the poor thing was failing. Finally, as she was reaching the end of her journey, the baby died in her arms. The spoon was gone now, so hour after hour she dug a grave in the frozen earth with her bare fingers. Her grief became unbearable. How could she possibly be kneeling in the snow at the graveside of her last child? She had lost her husband and all her children. She had given up her earthly goods, her home, and even her homeland.
In this moment of overwhelming sorrow and complete bewilderment, she felt her heart would literally break. In despair she contemplated how she might end her own life, as so many of her fellow countrymen were doing. How easy it would be to jump off a nearby bridge, she thought, or to throw herself in front of an oncoming train.
And then, as these thoughts assailed her, something within her said, “Get down on your knees and pray.” She ignored the prompting until she could resist it no longer. She knelt and prayed more fervently than she had in her entire life:
“Dear Heavenly Father, I do not know how I can go on. I have nothing left—except my faith in Thee. I feel, Father, amidst the desolation of my soul, an overwhelming gratitude for the atoning sacrifice of Thy Son, Jesus Christ. I cannot express adequately my love for Him. I know that because He suffered and died, I shall live again with my family; that because He broke the chains of death, I shall see my children again and will have the joy of raising them. Though I do not at this moment wish to live, I will do so, that we may be reunited as a family and return—together—to Thee.”
When she finally reached her destination of Karlsruhe, Germany, she was emaciated. Brother Babbel said that her face was a purple-gray, her eyes red and swollen, her joints protruding. She was literally in the advanced stages of starvation. In a Church meeting shortly thereafter, she bore a glorious testimony, stating that of all the ailing people in her saddened land, she was one of the happiest because she knew that God lived, that Jesus is the Christ, and that He died and was resurrected so that we might live again. She testified that she knew if she continued faithful and true to the end, she would be reunited with those she had lost and would be saved in the celestial kingdom of God.

“Hi, Gweg!” Greg could feel his face getting hot even before he looked up to see Melissa standing on the roadside by her bike.
“My name’s not Gweg,” he said crossly, focusing intently again on the basketball hoop he was aiming at.
“What is it, then?” Melissa waited expectantly, her eyes already dancing with laughter.
“You know what it is.”
“Yep. It’s Gweg; that’s what you always say.” She started to giggle.
“My name’s not Gweg,” Greg yelled. “It’s Gweg!”
Melissa burst into laughter and hopped back on her bike. “I was right, then. Bye, Gweggy!”
Greg scowled at her braids streaming out behind her as she pedaled away. It wasn’t fair! He tried and tried to say his Rs, using the exercises that his speech therapist gave him every week. But even though she praised him at the end of each session and told him that he was doing better, he still couldn’t say the words quite right. Worst of all, he couldn’t even say his own name!
“Well, at least we didn’t name you Roger or Roderick,” Dad had chuckled, tousling Greg’s hair. “Don’t worry, Son. Lots of kids have trouble with their Rs, and sometimes other letters too. You’ll get over it.”
But Greg did worry. The Primary president had asked him to tell the story of Joshua in two weeks. He loved to hear about how the children of Israel were led into the Promised Land, and he wanted to do a good job telling it. But what if everyone laughed at him?
The next Sunday at dinner, Greg was quiet as he pushed the food around his plate with his fork. He usually loved Mom’s mashed potatoes; the rich gravy he poured over the top looked like brown lava sliding down a snowy volcano. But gravy lava seemed stupid now, and his food stuck in his throat.
“Is something wrong, Greg?” Mom asked.
Greg nodded soundlessly.
“Is it your Primary talk?” said Dad.
He nodded again.
“Well, I have something to show you.” Dad disappeared into the living room and returned with his Bible. “You know, Greg,” he said, flipping through the pages, “when I was your age, I didn’t like to give talks either, but for a different reason. All those people made me nervous! My mouth got as dry as sandpaper, and I felt like I couldn’t say anything. Then I read about Moses. Here.” He handed the open Bible to Greg. “When you’ve finished your dinner, why don’t you read about how Moses felt when the Lord told him to speak to the people and to Pharaoh. It might help.”
Later, Greg read in Exodus how the Lord appeared to Moses and told him to tell the children of Israel His words. In Exodus 4:10 [Ex. 4:10], Greg read that Moses had said, “But I am slow of speech, and of a slow tongue.”
Greg kept reading, using the footnotes. In Exodus 6:30 [Ex. 6:30], he saw that Moses was still protesting to the Lord: “Behold, I am of stammering lips, and slow of speech; how shall Pharaoh hearken unto me?”
Greg was astonished. So Moses, the mighty prophet, couldn’t speak very well, either! But the Lord didn’t find another prophet to replace him. He knew that Moses, whom He had called to serve as the Israelite leader, was a righteous man, and He made a way for Moses to do what he had been commanded by sending Aaron to help him. Well, I have lots of people to help me—people like Dad and Mom. A warm, peaceful feeling crept over him. They can help me learn to say my Rs right someday, and I know that the Lord will help me give my talk!
All the next week, Greg practiced and practiced until he knew the whole story by heart. When Sunday finally arrived, he was a little nervous, but he felt ready. He stood at the microphone, took a deep breath, and gave his talk. He still couldn’t say his Rs quite right, and he thought that he heard a giggle from the back of the room. When he sat down, though, he felt good inside. He knew that he had told the story well.
Dad and Mom had come to hear him, and when Primary was over, they both gave him a big hug. “We’re very proud of you,” Mom said, beaming; Dad said, “Way to go, sport.”
Suddenly Greg felt someone cuff his arm playfully. He looked around and saw Melissa standing there. “Good job, Greg,” she said, grinning.
“Thanks,” he said. And he couldn’t help grinning too.

Some time ago, I met with a husband and wife having severe marital problems. When they came in for counseling, the wife described their problems in detail, but the husband said nothing. I tried to get him to talk, but he was sullen and answered every question with only one or two words. His wife always jumped in to give more complete answers.
Finally, I invited her to leave the room, then spoke with him alone. At first, he said very little. But when he found that I gave him time to formulate his answers and that I didn’t interrupt, criticize, or judge him, he began to speak freely.
From that point on, I said little. As the interview came to an end, he seemed relieved. With real feeling he said, “Thanks for listening to me. I have wanted to tell my wife these things for years, but she never wants to hear what I have to say.”
The man had a difficult time formulating and expressing his thoughts, but he showed deep feeling. And he was clearly relieved to finally be able to put those feelings into words. Fortunately, this couple was able to rediscover that they loved each other dearly. Both wanted to build a strong, supportive marriage, and both wanted to do their part.
The husband in our opening example clearly needed someone to listen to him, not someone with whom to discuss his problem. When a person is frustrated by not being heard, the remedy is for someone to listen, not to talk.

Years later my husband told me that when he was a child, Brother Joseph went to their home and asked if he could borrow one of his mother’s twin babies. He explained that his wife Emma had been sad and lonely since her own baby had died, and he thought it would comfort her to take care of one of the girls. The Prophet picked up the baby in the morning and brought her back each night.

One evening when the baby was not home at the usual time, Mother Burgess went to see what was the matter. There was the Prophet rocking the little baby by the fire. He had her wrapped in a silk quilt, and he was singing to get her quiet.
—Margaret M. Burgess

A temple trip to do baptisms for the dead took on new meaning for the youth of the Oklahoma City Oklahoma Stake. To prepare for their temple trip, the youth worked in the name extraction program and personally performed the baptisms in behalf of the people whose names they had extracted.

The Young Women worked in pairs. One would read and the other would print the information on extraction cards. The girls began to feel a close relationship with the people on the film. They prayed for guidance when names were not legible and often were able to decipher the writing.

The Young Men became interested in the program and began participating in name extraction in preparation for the temple trip. The Young Women helped train the Young Men in the correct ways of filling out extraction cards.

When the youth traveled to the temple, they felt the significance of what they were doing because they had been involved through the whole process.

President Monson tells the story of a retired executive named Ed who lived the example of a quorum member. On one occasion President Monson was speaking with Ed and asked him, “‘Ed, what are you doing in the Church?’ He replied, ‘I have the best assignment in the ward. My responsibility is to help men who are unemployed find permanent employment. This year I have helped 12 of my brethren who were out of work to obtain good jobs. I have never been happier in my entire life.’” President Monson continues, “Short in stature, ‘Little Ed,’ as we affectionately called him, stood tall that evening as his eyes glistened and his voice quavered. He showed his love by helping those in need. He restored human dignity. He opened doors for those who knew not how to do so themselves.”2

I would like to share with you what I believe was a defining moment in one of my children's life. One evening I was in my room reading. My then 15 years, 11months and two week old daughter came and sat down at the end of my bed. She started the conversations this way. "Dad, John (his real name isn't John but for purposes of this address, we will call him John) has asked me to the homecoming dance." Now you have to understand that John was the quarterback of her high school football team and a star football player; someone who was popular at school. It was an invitation I am sure that she very much wanted to accept. What high school girl wouldn't be flattered by such an invitation? She continued: "I know that I am not 16 years old but would it be alright if I went to the dance with John?" You see she had asked me, I suppose, hoping that if I said it was alright, then it was my decision, and all would be square with her and the Lord. I remember looking at my daughter and saying something to this effect: "Holly, you know what counsel the prophets of the Lord have given, you are almost 16 years old and old enough to decide, so you decide and I will be alright with your decision." I will always remember her response: "That's not fair!" Well, my then 15 years 11 months and 2 week old daughter had to decide. Would she apply her heart to her understanding? Some might rightfully argue that it was only two weeks before she turned 16 and there would be no harm in going to the dance. And yet, that really, in my mind, is not the issue. The issue in my mind is are we really willing to submit as Elder Holland has taught our will to the will of the Lord, in advance, unconditionally, no matter the consequences? Well, my then 15 years, 11 months and two week old daughter chose to follow the counsel of the prophets and declined John's invitation to go to the dance. She is now 33 years old, married to a wonderful man with five children of her own. I believe that this moment in her life helped to drive what she knew intellectually deep within her heart. I know she has had other experiences in life where she has chosen to follow the Lord's teachings and that such experiences have helped her learn how to apply her heart to her understanding. Do you think that she knows how to teach her children how to apply their hearts to their understanding?

Much of what I know came from my family. When I was about eight years old, my wise mother asked my brother and me to pull weeds with her in our family’s backyard garden. Now, that seems a simple task, but we lived in New Jersey. It rained often. The soil was heavy clay. The weeds grew faster than the vegetables.
I remember my frustration when the weeds broke off in my hands, their roots stuck firmly in the heavy mud. My mother and my brother were soon far ahead in their rows. The harder I tried, the more I fell behind.
“This is too hard!” I cried out.
Instead of giving sympathy, my mother smiled and said, “Oh, Hal, of course it’s hard. It’s supposed to be. Life is a test.”
In that moment, I knew her words were true and would continue to be true in my future.
The reason for Mother’s loving smile became clear years later when I read of Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son speaking of Their purpose in creating this world and giving spirit children the opportunity of mortal life:
“And we will prove them herewith, to see if they will do all things whatsoever the Lord their God shall command them;
“And they who keep their first estate shall be added upon; and they who keep not their first estate shall not have glory in the same kingdom with those who keep their first estate; and they who keep their second estate shall have glory added upon their heads for ever and ever.”
You and I accepted that invitation to be tested and to prove that we would choose to keep the commandments of God when we would no longer be in the presence of our Heavenly Father.
Even with such a loving invitation from our Heavenly Father, Lucifer persuaded a third of the spirit children to follow him and reject the Father’s plan for our growth and eternal happiness. For Satan’s rebellion, he was cast out with his followers. Now he tries to cause as many as he can to turn away from God during this mortal life.
Those of us who accepted the plan did so because of our faith in Jesus Christ, who offered to become our Savior and Redeemer. We must have believed then that whatever mortal weaknesses we would have and whatever evil forces would be against us, the forces of good would be overwhelmingly greater.
Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ know and love you. They want you to return to Them and become like Them. Your success is Their success. You have felt that love confirmed by the Holy Ghost when you have read or heard these words: “For behold, this is my work and my glory—to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.”
God has the power to make our way easier. He fed manna to the children of Israel in their wandering to the promised land. The Lord in His mortal ministry healed the sick, raised the dead, and calmed the sea. After His Resurrection, He opened “the prison to them that were bound.”
Yet the Prophet Joseph Smith, one of the greatest of His prophets, suffered in prison and was taught the lesson we all profit from and need in our recurring tests of faith: “And if thou shouldst be cast into the pit, or into the hands of murderers, and the sentence of death passed upon thee; if thou be cast into the deep; if the billowing surge conspire against thee; if fierce winds become thine enemy; if the heavens gather blackness, and all the elements combine to hedge up the way; and above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.”
You might reasonably wonder why a loving and all-powerful God allows our mortal test to be so hard. It is because He knows that we must grow in spiritual cleanliness and stature to be able to live in His presence in families forever. To make that possible, Heavenly Father gave us a Savior and the power to choose for ourselves by faith to keep His commandments and to repent and so come unto Him.
The Father’s plan of happiness has at its center our becoming ever more like His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ. In all things, the Savior’s example is our best guide. He was not exempt from the need to prove Himself. He endured for all of Heavenly Father’s children, paying the price for all our sins. He felt the suffering of all who have and will come into mortality.
When you wonder how much pain you can endure well, remember Him. He suffered what you suffer so that He would know how to lift you up. He may not remove the burden, but He will give you strength, comfort, and hope. He knows the way. He drank the bitter cup. He endured the suffering of all.
You are being nourished and comforted by a loving Savior, who knows how to succor you in whatever tests you face. Alma taught:
“And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people.
“And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities.”
One way He will succor you will be to invite you always to remember Him and to come unto Him. He has encouraged us:
“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
“Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.”
The way to come unto Him is to feast upon His words, to exercise faith unto repentance, to choose to be baptized and confirmed by His authorized servant, and then to keep your covenants with God. He sends the Holy Ghost to be your companion, comforter, and guide.
As you live worthy of the gift of the Holy Ghost, the Lord can direct you to safety even when you cannot see the way. For me, He has most often shown the next step or two to take. Rarely has He given me a glimpse of the distant future, but even those infrequent glimpses guide what I choose to do in daily life.
The Lord explained:
“Ye cannot behold with your natural eyes, for the present time, the design of your God concerning those things which shall come hereafter, and the glory which shall follow … much tribulation.
“For after much tribulation come the blessings.”
The greatest blessing that will come when we prove ourselves faithful to our covenants during our trials will be a change in our natures. By our choosing to keep our covenants, the power of Jesus Christ and the blessings of His Atonement can work in us. Our hearts can be softened to love, to forgive, and to invite others to come unto the Savior. Our confidence in the Lord increases. Our fears decrease.
Now, even with such blessings promised through tribulation, we do not seek tribulation. In the mortal experience, we will have ample opportunity to prove ourselves, to pass tests hard enough to become ever more like the Savior and our Heavenly Father.
In addition, we must notice the tribulation of others and try to help. That will be especially hard when we are being sorely tested ourselves. But we will discover as we lift another’s burden, even a little, that our backs are strengthened and we sense a light in the darkness.
In this, the Lord is our Exemplar. On the cross of Golgotha, having already suffered pain so great that He would have died were He not the Begotten Son of God, He looked on His executioners and said to His Father, “Forgive them; for they know not what they do.” While suffering for all who would ever live, He looked, from the cross, on John and on His own sorrowing mother and ministered to her in her trial:
“When Jesus therefore saw his mother, and the disciple standing by, whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, Woman, behold thy son!
“Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother! And from that hour that disciple took her unto his own home.”
By His actions on that most sacred of days, He voluntarily gave His life for each of us, offering not only succor in this life but eternal life in the time to come.
I have seen people rise to great heights through proving faithful in terrible trials. Across the Church today are examples. People are driven to their knees by adversity. By their faithful endurance and effort, they become more like the Savior and our Heavenly Father.
I learned another lesson from my mother. As a girl she had diphtheria and nearly died. Later she had spinal meningitis. Her father died young, and so my mother and her brothers helped support their mother.
All her life, she felt the effects of the trials of illness. In her last 10 years of life, she required multiple operations. But through it all, she proved faithful to the Lord, even when bedridden. The only picture on her bedroom wall was of the Savior. Her last words to me on her deathbed were these: “Hal, you sound as if you are getting a cold. You ought to take care of yourself.”
At her funeral the last speaker was Elder Spencer W. Kimball. After saying something of her trials and her faithfulness, he said essentially this: “Some of you may wonder why Mildred had to suffer so much and so long. I will tell you why. It was because the Lord wanted to polish her a little more.”
I express my gratitude for the many faithful members of the Church of Jesus Christ who bear burdens with steady faith and who help others to bear theirs as the Lord seeks to polish them a little more. I also express love and admiration for caregivers and leaders across the world who serve others while they and their families endure such polishing.
I testify that we are children of a Heavenly Father, who loves us. I feel President Russell M. Nelson’s love for us all. He is the Lord’s prophet in the world today. I so testify in the sacred name of the Lord Jesus Christ, amen.

During my freshman year of high school, I met a girl who shared something with me that has changed my life permanently.
I knew she held her family and church very close to her. She always seemed to be talking about these things and never failed to invite me to a church activity. I always had an excuse for not being able to go, but in truth, I was simply afraid of the rumors I had heard about Mormons. After 18 months of invitations, I decided to go help her father with a Cub Scout activity at her local meetinghouse. The members were a lot of fun, and even though I didn’t recognize it by name, I felt the Spirit very strongly. I went to more activities until eventually I found myself waking up at 4:30 a.m. to see what seminary was all about.
My friend invited me to read the Book of Mormon and meet with the missionaries. I agreed to meet with them in her home where I was able to feel the love and support from her family and also hear their conversion stories. The missionaries and this family encouraged me to read and to pray. Through their examples and support, I was able to gain a testimony of the Book of Mormon and the restored Church of Jesus Christ. I was baptized and later served in a branch presidency while on my mission in Lubbock, Texas. I loved to share this experience with those I taught and will be forever grateful for what a friend was willing to share with me.

Think again. The boys in the teachers quorum of the Sandy, Utah, Willow Creek First Ward did, and their quorum hasn’t been the same since.
Quorum members seem to be friendlier to each other than before. Ward members see the boys just a bit differently. And occasionally you might catch one of them humming a spiritual tune in the halls at school. But with all those changes, some things have stayed the same. These boys are a perfectly typical group of teachers who like to do all the things teachers quorums do.
“We like to camp and play basketball and ski together,” says Michael Olsen, “but those things aren’t centered solely on the Spirit. Singing together is a much different experience. It brings us together in a way that other kinds of activities just can’t.”
The coming together that Michael describes is the very thing the teachers quorum presidency were looking for when they decided to try this experiment. But they weren’t sure it would work. After all, they were going to have to ask their fellow teachers to give up an hour on Sunday to come and … sing.
“We wanted to do something that would serve the ward and also be good for the quorum,” says Dave Liljenquist, a former member of the teachers quorum presidency. “When the bishopric and our leaders introduced this idea, we actually laughed. But we said we’d give it a try.”
And so a handful of the boys started to go to choir practice.
Cameron wasn’t the only teacher who discovered how much he liked the choir. All the other boys that were going were having fun, too. Pretty soon, their friends in the quorum decided to find out what was so great about the choir.
It wasn’t long before the teachers quorum was filling half the choir seats.
“At first, I felt some pressure to go to choir because my friends were going,” says Ben Young. “But after the first time I was going because I wanted to. Singing gives us more time together with our friends.”
But don’t misunderstand. “Choir practice” isn’t code for time to talk or horse around. These boys are serious about the choir. When they’re in choir practice, they’re either singing or quietly listening to the instructions given by the choir director.
And speaking of the choir director, Sister Naomi Bonney, what does she have to say about all of this?
“We have some sons singing in the choir with their mothers. I think that’s brought a nice feeling to the choir,” she says. “These young men are learning something valuable they will be able to use the rest of their lives.”
“At school, sometimes I’ll think of the words to a song,” says Mark Garbett. “You keep them with you, and they have good messages.”
Joey Ulrich says it wasn’t too hard to learn to read music, a skill he mastered pretty quickly even though he’d never done it before he joined the choir. And Paul Garbett says that being in the choir reminds him that, even though he could be doing other things on a Sunday afternoon, choir practice is a great place for him to spend time.
“Sunday is a day of worship, not just a day of rest,” says Paul. “Singing in the choir is another way to worship, just like praying or reading scriptures.”
But it’s probably Michael who sums up the choir’s appeal the best: “You know, sometimes you’re singing about something and you learn something new. And other times, when you’re singing about God, you realize that you know it’s true, that He’s real and that we believe in Him. It invites the Spirit. It makes you feel good.”

I was having doubts about what I should study at the university. Most people spoke badly about the course that I wanted to take, so I prayed to the Lord to see if He agreed with my decision.
My answer came the following day while I was reading a general conference talk in the Liahona. I felt as though Heavenly Father was telling me He couldn’t choose for me—this was a decision that I would have to make alone. I knew that no matter what I chose, I would have to work hard to be successful.
I know that my prayer was answered. The confirmation of the Holy Ghost helped me make a decision. I’ve learned to give my best efforts and know that Heavenly Father will help me.

My brother Darrell, who was five years older than I, was a special friend to me. Darrell let me ride on his bike with him from our home on the ranch to the barn where he often worked. I rode the bike back to the house, then returned to the barn at the end of the day to accompany him on his ride home. I loved Darrell very much.
One day Darrell was coming home in our family car from driving my sister to her piano lesson. He stopped at the railroad tracks to wait while a long freight train passed. He did not see another train coming from the other direction. When Darrell started over the tracks, the train struck the car and my brother was killed. I was sweeping our driveway when my father pulled up in his pickup truck shortly after it happened, and I still remember the sadness we felt when he told my mother and our family of the accident.
President David O. McKay and Elder Spencer W. Kimball came to speak at my brother’s funeral. President McKay, then President of the Church, was related to my father. Elder Kimball, who later became President of the Church, had recently visited our stake conference and had stayed in our home because my father was the stake president. President McKay and Elder Kimball taught us about our Heavenly Father’s plan and said that we would be together again as a family. They said that we should not be afraid of death, and they taught us about the resurrection. They promised that my brother would live again and that our family could live together for the one thousand years of peace called the Millennium.