Gospel Story Finder

When I joined the Church, I attended a small branch in the Philippines where the members were very close and worked in unity.
Gradually, the branch grew and prospered. New chairs came, then a new sacrament table. Then we moved to a spacious apartment and even had a new organ. Three years later, some land was purchased for our future meetinghouse.
During this period of growth, the unity of our branch was occasionally tested. After some particularly hurtful gossip reached me, I decided to leave the Church. For the next six Sundays I did not attend any meetings, although I wished I were there. I especially wanted to partake of the sacrament and renew my covenants.
One day I knelt in prayer and asked for strength, courage, and enlightenment. Still on my knees, I caught sight of a book on the floor. I picked up a dusty and neglected volume of scripture and began paging through it, hoping to find some lines that would ease my pain. I stopped at D&C 136:29–30: “If thou art sorrowful, call on the Lord thy God with supplication, that your souls may be joyful. Fear not thine enemies.”
After reading the verses, I felt lighter in spirit, and my courage returned. I would go back to church.
But the next Sunday, as I neared the meetinghouse, I felt apprehensive. Would they welcome me again? Would I hear whispering behind my back? Or would they ignore me altogether? My feet dragged the closer I got to the door.
Then I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder, and before I could turn around, an arm encircled me in a tender embrace. Then another hand reached out to clasp mine. Other friends burst from the door with warm smiles, each one expressing joy for my return.
As we sang the opening hymn, “Though Deepening Trials” (Hymns, number 122), a feeling of peace filled me, and the feelings of hurt and resentment melted away. Warm tears blurred my vision, and I could no longer see the words in the hymnbook. I closed my eyes tightly and gratefully whispered, “Father, thanks for leading me back to the fold.”

As we listen to and act on spiritual promptings to serve others, we can also be a vehicle for the Lord to do His work. I received a powerful reminder of this a few years ago. It was the Fourth of July, and my family chose a random spot on Main Street to watch the parade in Rexburg. As the parade ended and we prepared to leave, a beautiful Asian lady turned around and saw me. She had been sitting in front of me for over two hours. The moment our eyes met, she exclaimed with utter amazement, “Sister Mo, I’ve been looking for you for over 20 years. You taught me the gospel!”

She said her name was Sister Lee, and she lived in an area where I had served as a missionary so long ago. I tried so hard to remember her, but I got absolutely nothing. After our short visit on the street corner, I accepted a dinner invitation at her son’s home that weekend. At our second reunion, her son reminded me that I made him a binder full of pictures to study the gospel when he was nine. Suddenly I remembered who they were, and I couldn’t believe the transformation that this family had gone through since joining the Church. After Sister Lee’s baptism, her two sons grew up in the Church; both served missions and married in the temple. What a sweet reunion that was, and like Alma and the sons of Mosiah, we “did rejoice exceedingly to see [each other]; and what added more to [our] joy, [we] were still [brothers and sisters] in the Lord.” [8] My experience is not unique—we witnessed another heartfelt reunion between Brother Forest Gahn and his missionary three weeks ago at this pulpit. It turned out that Sister Lee had visited Rexburg before, but this would be her last visit, because her son was graduating that month. This astounding reunion is a small token of our caring Heavenly Father’s love for His children. Sister Lee had been longing to meet me, but I needed it as much as she did.

I want to remind you that six months ago, following conference on Sunday, we went home to listen to a television program. We were concerned for President Gordon B. Hinckley. (I had the privilege and the honor to watch him for a number of years before he became our prophet and leader. I watched the careful way that he carried on the affairs of the Church that had been his while he was a counselor to three Presidents.) President Hinckley was to appear on a nationwide television program, and we wondered how it would come across. We knew of the importance of it and what it would mean to us. We knew of the work and the hours of prayer and meditation and study that our prophet and leader had done in being prepared for this exposure which would reach, according to the information we have received, some 35 million people. You will remember, as I remember now, the anticipation and the wonderment of how this would come across.

After that program was over, my heart was beating fast, and I felt it would burst. I was filled with joy and thanksgiving to the Lord for the way our prophet and our leader had handled the interrogation by one who had a reputation of attempting to ask questions that might be difficult to handle. What a joy it was for us to witness how our prophet and our leader had been blessed and magnified! As I watched his face on the television (and I’m sure you would have had the same reaction), I realized that a vast number of people were seeing what a prophet of God looked like: a kind, good, and handsome man, clean and intelligent. You could see the outstanding character, the personality of our prophet and leader, who would be exposed to that vast audience of people. And then when the interrogator asked President Hinckley, “Do you really believe that story that heavenly beings appeared to that young boy in that grove of trees? Do you really believe that to be true?” And here our prophet just instantly said, “Of course I do. Isn’t it great?”

Those words have been ringing through my ears ever since that happened: “Of course I do. Isn’t it great?” He made that pronouncement with such confidence and with that wonderful personality he has, declaring it to all of the world. We want President Hinckley to know that since that time, missionary activity in the United States in the area where people who heard that program reside has picked up, and member activity has picked up too. More people have become interested in the Church because they have seen a living prophet in the flesh stand before that immense audience and declare to the world, “Of course I do. Isn’t is great?” We would hope and pray that the missionaries throughout the world would have that same feeling and that same understanding and that same determination—to want to so declare this message of hope and salvation and eternal life to all the world.

How Magrina Sam Aiten came to be endowed in the Manila Philippines Temple illustrates the distances, both physical and cultural, Micronesians often cross when coming to the Lord. While living in Chuuk (or Truk), she was visited by the missionaries. When she asked them a question about Joseph Smith, “their answer touched my heart, and I asked them to give me the discussions.”

Reading the Book of Mormon gave her a testimony of the gospel, but her testimony alienated her from her husband. He resented the missionaries’ visits. When the elders taught Magrina about fasting, she decided that her first fast would be for her husband. “I felt the Spirit, and my husband’s heart was softened.” He allowed the missionaries to continue meeting with Magrina and the children. “After one month, he joined us,” Magrina says. “In January 1986, I, my husband, and our oldest child were baptized.”

Her mother also felt unhappy about her association with the Church. “My Mom didn’t want me to join and said that if I did I wouldn’t be her daughter anymore.” In a society that values family relationships more than personal preferences, that was a difficult thing to hear. “But I told my kids to pray for Mom.” After three months, her mother came to Magrina’s home and stayed the weekend.

On Monday, the family had family home evening. “Mom was really quiet,” Magrina says. “My daughter gave the closing prayer, and after we finished, all the kids hugged her and kissed her. She had tears in her eyes, and she said, ‘Maybe this is a good way to raise your kids. They are sure different from you when you were little.’ I said that’s right; I didn’t know how to pray. But my children know how to conduct themselves.”

Not long after that, Magrina moved to Saipan, some 1,300 kilometers away. Saipan is something of a melting pot. A large island (23-by-8 kilometers) in the northern Marianas, it serves as home—and home away from home—for people from all over the Pacific and from as far away as the United States and Europe. The Japanese have made it a popular tourist destination, and Filipinos and Koreans come to work in its textile factories. Islanders from other parts of Micronesia have found it attractive as a place where the life-style is halfway between Micronesian traditional and Western contemporary.

On Saipan, Magrina met Jim and Julie Ellis, mainland Americans living on the island. Jim was her home teacher, Julie her visiting teacher. In 1992, Jim encouraged Magrina to go to the temple. She wanted to go, but by then her husband had died and she had remarried. Her nonmember husband refused to let her go. Eventually, their disagreements led them to separate.

The day before she was to fly to Manila, her husband returned. “When he walked in the door and saw my face, he knew that I hadn’t changed my mind. I loved him, but I also loved my kids and wanted the best for them.” He consented to her trip—and even agreed to stop smoking and drinking in the house.

“So I went to the temple, and Sister Ellis went with me. I really felt the Spirit. Everything touched my heart.” While there, she had the temple work done for her first husband.

The book of Proverbs praises the woman of virtue as more precious than rubies. “Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come. …

“Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her. …

“A woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised” (Prov. 31:25, 28, 30).

In Micronesia, there are many women worthy of such praise.

In various locations throughout the Church, I have observed members’ lives change as they become fully engaged in helping to establish the Church. Two such individuals are Carlos and Rosario Casariego.

I was serving a full-time mission in Uruguay when I first met Carlos and Rosario. They were teenagers at the time, and both were receptive to the gospel and eager to live by its principles.

Carlos was baptized in December 1970, and three months later he met Rosario when he was asked to speak at the baptismal service for her family. Following their baptisms, both Carlos and Rosario were called to serve with the youth, and soon they became the presidents of their respective groups. They were among the first students when the seminary and institute programs started in Uruguay. Additionally, Rosario served in the stake Primary presidency, and Carlos appeared on the Church’s weekly television program Nuestro Mundo (Our World).

By 1975 Carlos and Rosario were planning their wedding. Then they attended a regional conference, and the course of their lives was changed. During the conference, President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) told the youth that every qualified young man should seriously consider going on a full-time mission and that young women should be supportive of that goal.

Carlos and Rosario determined that they would follow the counsel of the prophet. Later that year, Carlos received a call to the Uruguay-Paraguay Mission. Rosario commenced a full-time mission to Argentina six months later. Due to Carlos’s and Rosario’s dedicated service, many good people and future leaders were baptized into the Church.

Since their marriage in July 1981, Carlos and Rosario have had four children and have served in numerous positions in the Church. They have done everything in their power to help establish the Church in their native Uruguay. Their dedication to the Lord has been a blessing not only to those with whom they have served, but in their own lives as well. They are examples of good people who have become fully engaged in helping to establish a strong, multigenerational church in their own country.

On at least one occasion, I gave a spiritual thought with one message in mind, and the Spirit conveyed a totally different message to a student who was listening. Here is one such example from an anonymous student:

Thank you so much for your spiritual thoughts. A few weeks ago you shared a scripture that really changed my life, no exaggeration. I had been on a bit of a downward spiral, and to tell you the truth, during the first month of class it kind of irritated me that we would have “spiritual thought time” in a finance class, when the thought would have nothing to do with what we were talking about. The scripture you shared was in [Doctrine and Covenants] where the Lord tells Joseph that he is chosen, but because of transgression he will fall if he isn’t careful. He tells Joseph to repent and that he is still chosen and called again to the work, but if he does not repent, he will lose his gift and his chosen status (see D&C 3:4–11). That scripture hit me hard and started a chain reaction of introspection with my wife into our lives, so that now I feel like I’m back on a spiritual high akin to that on my mission.

This week I found out that my dad has been [struggling with personal issues that would in the end cause him to leave my mother]. . . . [Y]esterday I was able to talk to him and share everything that has happened to me over the last month (starting with your scripture) to help me find my testimony again and get myself back on track. I felt the Spirit so strong, and I know he did, too.

I’m telling you this story because it is very likely that your scripture not only saved me, but it could save my family and my parents’ temple marriage. If my dad could [move beyond his struggles] to making the right decision, it would be nothing short of a miracle—all because of how you have let the Lord work through you. Don’t ever stop the spiritual thoughts, no matter what anyone else says! Thank you!

A couple weeks later, I received this follow-up from this unknown student in the suggestion box:

I just wanted you to know that over the past two weeks my dad got his act together. My parents are going to stay together! His testimony is starting to return, and he is committed now to working hard on it and his marriage. Thank you! I truly believe this is all because of your spiritual thoughts.

Our family has always enjoyed a Christmas tradition of setting out a ceramic Nativity scene—complete with Wise Men, camels, shepherds, sheep, and, of course, Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus. Each season the Nativity scene was the same.
One year when my children were young, I carefully unwrapped each piece and set them up to represent the first Christmas. The children gathered around to watch. We talked about the birth of Jesus and the visit of the shepherds and the Wise Men. Then I cautioned the children, as always, not to touch the pieces, explaining that they were fragile and easy to break.
This year, however, the temptation was too great for my two-year-old daughter, Elizabeth. The day we set up the Nativity scene, I noticed several times, with some irritation, that a camel had wandered from its appointed place or a sheep had strayed from the watchful care of the shepherd. Each time, I returned the piece to its rightful place, then tracked down the culprit and admonished her to leave things alone.
The next morning, Elizabeth awoke and went downstairs before I did. When I walked into the living room, I noticed right away that the manger scene had been disturbed again. All the pieces were clumped together in a mass, as tightly as they could be fitted together.
Impatiently, I stepped forward to put things right; but I stopped short as I realized that some thought had gone into this new arrangement. All twenty-three figures were grouped in a circle, facing inward, pushed together as if to get the best view possible of the figure resting in the center of them all—the baby Jesus.
The Spirit touched my soul as I pondered the insight of a two-year-old. Certainly, Christ should be the center of our holiday celebrations. If we all could draw in around our Savior—not only during the Christmas season, but during each day—what a better perspective we would have. The love he offers to each of us would be easily shared with others who have not ventured so close.
I left the Nativity scene arranged according to Elizabeth’s design that year. It served as a simple reminder during the rest of the season of what Christmas is all about.

After two industrious weeks, members of the Bulawayo and Nkulumane Zimbabwe stakes completed two service projects at two centres—the Ramstein Salvation Army Home of the Aged and Qinisani Daycare Orphanage.

The time period of the service projects was packed with clearing of the yard, cleaning of the centres and construction of a rabbit cage. Donations of four rabbits were made to the two centres.

President Mzingaye Ndlovu, a leader for the Church in Buluwayo, addressed the attendees at the handover, a joyful event where members of the Church sang Christmas carols for the elderly.

“Continue to follow the example of Jesus Christ and also light the world here at Ramstein Salvation Army Home of the Aged. Our Lord Jesus Christ, went about in a ministry that extended over a period of three years. [During that period of three years] nothing was about Him. He sought to lift others,” Ndlovu said.

Sarah and George Benson were excited when they learned that Sarah was to have a baby. This would be their first child.
When Sarah’s labor started on 4 August 1899, both her mother and George’s mother were there with the doctor to help. Sarah was grateful for their support.
It wasn’t an easy delivery. The baby boy weighed more than eleven pounds! He wasn’t breathing when he was born, and the doctor didn’t think that the infant would live.
But the grandmothers refused to give up. They each offered a silent prayer. Over and over, they dipped the baby in cold water, then in warm water.
Imagine how excited they were when the baby gulped his first breath of air and let out a cry! Their prayers had been answered.
The infant was named Ezra Taft Benson, and he grew up to be a great man. When he was eighty-six years old, he became the thirteenth President of the Church.

I entered the bishop’s office feeling completely worthless.
The bishop smiled and offered me a seat. I explained to him what had happened, feeling more and more ashamed with each word. I asked with tears in my eyes, “What do I need to do? How can I become completely clean again?”
The bishop was quiet for a moment, then said, “You can definitely become clean from this. But I don’t think you understand an important part of repentance.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, a little taken aback.
You are thinking of repentance like you are flipping a switch from darkness to light,” he said. “As if you were a perfect 10, and because you sinned, you’re now an 8 or a 7.”
I nodded slowly.
“In reality,” the bishop continued, “None of us are 10s. In fact, we are probably closer to 1s and 2s. We’re not perfect to begin with. Repentance can cleanse us from sin, but it also helps us progress from 2s to 3s and 3s to 4s and so on until we reach that perfect 10 one day. Repentance helps us become more Christlike.
The bishop prayed with me and advised me to study the gift of repentance.
When I left his office, I sat in my car for a long time, thinking about what he had said.
I realized that he was right. I had thought of repentance only as a way to get back to how I was, to become a 10 once more. Because I thought I was completely clean before, the weight of that “perfection” made me feel worthless and unredeemable—just as I always felt whenever I needed to repent.
But having to repent was not a negative or shameful experience—it was the crux of becoming Christlike. It allowed me to leave my sins behind and enabled me to become better than I was before. The Savior is not a repair man, filling in the cracks in my soul, but an architect, building me up to heights I could never achieve otherwise.
This knowledge removed my perfectionistic guilt. I wasn’t perfect and I didn’t have to be—not yet. Repentance was part of my path to perfection. I entered my home with a changed perspective and a humbled heart.
I have since repented and forsaken the sin that drove me to the bishop’s office that day, and today I truly feel clean. I am still far from perfect, but thankfully, Christ’s grace is sufficient to save. With Him, I can be forgiven, healed, and given the strength overcome my weaknesses. And through His gift of repentance, I can be molded into the person I’m meant to become.

I always thought we had a strong family. Our three boys and two girls were normal children, and we had normal problems with them. Sometimes when they would act up, I would get angry. Later I would think to myself, “Why did you get so mad at them?”
I didn’t know then that perestroika—a period of political and economic change—was beginning in Russia. I didn’t know that goods would disappear from the shelves of all the stores, that for months and later for years, we would not receive paychecks. Life became very difficult. We had struggles, and my husband and I were on the brink of divorce. There came an epidemic of drug use, and one of our sons got involved. It seemed that the sun didn’t shine in our windows anymore. I didn’t know whom to pray to, but still I asked God for help. We fought with all our strength, and little by little we pulled out of this bog.
In the summer of 1998, missionaries found us. Our lives changed 180 degrees as we headed in a new direction. Within five years we had attended the temple and had been sealed as a family for eternity.
When our middle son served a full-time mission in the Czech Republic, he wrote to us in every letter, “Stay firm and faithful. Together we are the happiest family.” Even my friends would tell me I must be the happiest woman in the world to have so many children and grandchildren and to know I will never be plagued with loneliness.
Looking back, I realize that like the people who heard King Benjamin, our family experienced a mighty change in our hearts, becoming children of Christ (see Mosiah 5:7). It was a huge transformation for me. Before becoming a Latter-day Saint, when I thought about death, an unbearable grief gripped my heart and soul. It took every bit of strength I had to repel those thoughts from me. Now I have peace in my soul.

One way we can feel Christ’s love is through the example of others as they emulate his life. My grandfather Broadbent was such a man. He taught by example. He never sent his ten children out to work without his working with them, side by side.
He showed my father how to dig postholes by making a game of it. They would race with one another to see who could finish the task first. He subscribed to the principle that once a job was begun, it was done well, and it was finished. Not only did he work hard, he was committed to living the gospel well. He accepted the gospel plan without question. When it was time for tithing settlement, the whole family attended and accounted for their increase. He sent his sons on missions when there was no money during the Depression. He loved the Lord and his word. I remember countless times as a teenager visiting him in his home. There I would see him seated in his black leather chair reading the scriptures.
He was devoted to his family and loved to have us meet together often. At the end of these family gatherings he would call us together and talk with us. No matter what else he said, he always told us the most important things in life were the family and the gospel. He bore a strong witness of the truthfulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ, told us that he loved us and that Heavenly Father loved us, too. There was no doubt in my mind he was telling us the truth. His legacy has been perpetuated. Although he died before I was married, my children know him as a man who loved the Lord.

Grandpa Eyring’s testimony of the Church never wavered. But he was the first to admit that his behavior wasn’t always perfect. For example, Grandpa worked on his family’s ranch as a boy. Sometimes, when a four-legged creature wouldn’t behave, he admonished it with a four-legged word.

Grandpa, though, believed in continuous repentance, the third big miracle that can bolster our faith in the Church. Through priesthood power, each of us can qualify daily for repentance and the peace it brings. Grandpa’s belief in repentance shown through in one of the last conversations he and my father had, in 1981. President Eyring has recounted the experience this way:

As my father lay in his bed near death, I asked him if he didn’t think it was a time to repent and pray for forgiveness for any sins that were not yet resolved with God. He probably heard a little hint in my voice that he might fear death and the Judgment. He just chuckled quietly, smiled up at me, and said, “Oh no, Hal, I’ve been repenting as I went along.”

Reflecting on this spiritual teaching pattern in my life, I would like to share with you some of my memories as a convert to the Church. This might help someone—young or older—learn how to “stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places” (Mosiah 18:9) under any circumstances.
It all started on the day of my baptism. I was twenty-two years old and a college student. I was part of a small group that assembled at a swimming pool in Brussels, Belgium. We didn’t have a chapel at that time. There was no baptismal font, no bishop—just two missionaries and a few branch members to support us. I had no family members with me. It was a first step in the known and the unknown. The known was a sure testimony of Jesus Christ, our Savior and Redeemer; of Joseph Smith, a prophet; of the Book of Mormon; and of the Church, the only true one. The unknown was yet to be discovered and experienced. It started to be unveiled by receiving the priesthood after baptism. According to the procedures followed at that time, a convert almost had to stand at the bar of judgment to receive the priesthood. Three months passed before I was interviewed and ordained a deacon. Then on that Sunday morning I stood in front of the sacrament table to distribute the emblems of the atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ. I still remember the surroundings, which were quite different from the ornate decorations of the church where I had previously worshiped. The dining room of a home had been transformed into a meeting hall for sacrament meetings that were attended by a few members. It was my first experience to magnify my priesthood calling. Nine months later I was ordained a teacher and learned how to teach and to watch over the few members of the branch during their contentions and ups and downs.
These were also interesting days, when attending priesthood meeting meant sitting in a circle with two missionaries and two other brothers, and reading from one mimeographed sheet of paper that was the lesson. There was no priesthood manual, and only twenty sections of the Doctrine and Covenants had been translated into French. There was no Pearl of Great Price, but most importantly we did have the complete Book of Mormon. We passed this great book from hand to hand and learned about the covenants and teachings of the Lord and his doctrine. Precept upon precept, stone upon stone, I was building my spiritual memory bank and enjoying spiritual happiness.
Another four months passed, and I was ordained a priest. Now I stood on the other side of the sacrament table. The decor was the same, but I felt different. It impressed me that now I was blessing the emblems of the Atonement and memorizing “that they may eat in remembrance of the body of thy Son, and witness unto thee, … and always remember him and keep his commandments … that they may always have his Spirit to be with them” (D&C 20:77). It was an unforgettable experience, and I still visualize it today when I bless the sacrament as a General Authority.
Two years passed after my baptism, and the day arrived for me to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood and to be ordained an elder. The mission president once again laid his hands upon my head. The authority and power to act in the name of the Lord were given. It was received by mutual agreement by an oath and covenant. The oath represented the assurance that the promises of the agreement would be kept by both participants; the covenant, that the conditions of the agreement would be kept.
As I recall that priesthood preparation in the service of the Lord, I can see how remembering my covenants helped me to honor and magnify my priesthood calling, to keep the commandments, and to bring spiritual happiness into my life in preparation for eternal life. During those trial years, many of my young friends in the Church forgot their covenants and one by one returned to the world. The world always stands between man and God, representing two alternatives but only one true choice.
How can we be strengthened in making the choice to serve the Lord? By simply focusing on the doctrine of Jesus Christ that will ensure the salvation of those who remember it, accept it, and act upon it. How did the process work for me?
As a young man I considered and learned the doctrine of eternal marriage and family. This was of great interest to me and a determining factor in my conversion. I had witnessed the breakup of my parents’ marriage; I had seen sorrow caused by death without spiritual knowledge and friends marrying without temple ordinances. I wanted to avoid these tragedies.
What is this doctrine? In the Bible, it states that Adam was created, but he was alone. We read, “But for Adam there was not found an help meet for him” (Gen. 2:20). Thus, the Lord created woman—not another man—and commanded that they should be united in the sacred bonds of marriage. The first divine, righteous, ordained union between a man and a woman was sealed by these words: “A man … shall cleave unto his wife” (Gen. 2:24). This is the established doctrine, and it will never change. It is repeated in modern revelation: “Thou shalt love thy wife with all thy heart, and shalt cleave unto her and none else” (D&C 42:22).
This union is solemnized by the authority of the everlasting priesthood in a holy and sacred ordinance, the temple sealing. It is also called the new and everlasting covenant of marriage, and its purpose is to bind couples together on earth and bring them to a fulness of exaltation in the kingdom of God in the hereafter. Then Adam and Eve were also commanded to multiply and replenish the earth. “And Adam called his wife’s name Eve; because she was the mother of all living” (Gen. 3:20).
The true concept of marriage and family, the unit composed of a husband, wife, and children sealed together, was instituted at the beginning by God to create eternal families. That foundation principle became my vision and my goal and also reality as my companion and I were sealed in the temple in Zollikofen, Switzerland. As a husband and father and later as a grandfather, I was and still am responsible for the development, temporal support, protection, and salvation of my family.
Another determining factor in my conversion was the Church as a divine institution led by the authority of the priesthood. It provided the framework that I needed for support as a member of that covenant group. I could not save my family by myself.
Elder John A. Widtsoe wrote: “The Church, the community of persons with the same intelligent faith and desire and practice, is the organized agency through which God deals with His children and presents His will. Moreover, the authority to act for God must be vested on earth in some one organization and not independently in every man. The Church through the Priesthood holds this authority for the use of man” (Priesthood and Church Government [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1939], p. 180).
The Church provides a unique support for individuals and families to do things that they cannot do by themselves, such as receiving the essential ordinances of salvation. It brings temporal relief in times of hardship. It is also a laboratory outside of the home where we can serve, learn, and practice charity, the pure love of Christ.
I also found in this church that the priesthood has a patriarchal order and that God is a God of order. He is at the head, and following this pattern, the priesthood is conferred upon worthy men so they can preside in their homes and families. The husband and father, a patriarch, is to preside in righteousness and exercise the power of his priesthood to bless his wife and family. The husband and wife serve as partners in governing their family, and both act in joint leadership and depend on each other. They are united in the vision of their eternal salvation, one holding the priesthood, the other honoring and enjoying the blessings of it. One is not superior or inferior to the other. Each one carries his or her respective responsibilities and acts in his or her respective role.
Much more could be said about the priesthood and its uniqueness, the divine commission given to man through which he acts in the plan of salvation. In essence, therein is the true doctrine of the Father, the irreversible correct principles to govern ourselves, and the know-how to act upon the law and commandments that we were given.
In this age of increased individualism and selfishness, opinions now matter more than facts or doctrine; attitudes glorify personal choice above other values and principles; and language is typified by “I don’t need anyone to tell me how to be saved; I don’t need prophets, seers, or revelators to tell me what God expects of me; I don’t need to attend church meetings, to hear talks, or to be challenged.”
Today the concept of priesthood and Church authority is on trial by the world and even by some members who think that the Latin expression vox populi, vox Dei can be literally interpreted in the Church as “the voice of the people is the voice of God.” The commercial slogan “Have it your way” certainly does not apply in God’s plan for the salvation of his children when we read that the very cause of apostasy is when “every man walketh in his own way, and after the image of his own god” (D&C 1:16). How do you overcome the temptation to have it your own way, to satisfy your own appetites, and to follow the world’s trends?
One of my simple answers tonight is to constantly remember your covenants, to act on them, and to commit to them. This sequence, as repeatedly stated in the scriptures, is a classic, spiritual teaching pattern to prepare us for eternal life. It is centered upon Christ and his doctrine and teachings. I will remember them forever.
I testify that Jesus lives, that this is the only true church, that the priesthood of the Son of God is vested herein, and that prophets, seers, and revelators who preside over this church are appointed to preserve the pure doctrine of Jesus Christ and the authority of his priesthood for the salvation of his people. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

“With the knowledge we have, we may mourn, but we need never despair. We have a little loved one in Seattle. There the daily rain keeps the sun and stars alike hidden much of the time, so she hasn’t really seen stars. We think there is magic in stargazing and lessons to learn from them; they are brighter in winter’s night, you know. I explained this to this little girl when we stood on a clear night looking into heaven. I smiled at her wonderment at first seeing stars crowd the nighttime.
“‘Are they there every time it gets dark, even if I can’t see them?’ she asked. I assured her they were, even behind the clouds.
“‘Then darkness isn’t so bad, is it? If you know the stars are there.’
“It has application to life, doesn’t it?”

With the onset of World War II, gasoline rationing prevented the Eyring family from making the 17-mile (27-km) drive to the New Brunswick Branch for Sunday meetings. As a result, the family received permission to hold meetings in their home, in Princeton, New Jersey. Hal would joke that he never missed a Primary meeting there—an achievement that wasn’t too difficult considering that Primary was held only once in their home.
President Eyring often reflects on the beautiful spirit in the sacrament meetings held in this small branch, made up of his family and occasional visitors. He didn’t mind that his family were usually the only ones who attended or that he and his brothers constituted the branch’s entire Aaronic Priesthood. But as the boys began entering their teenage years, their mother was eager for the family to live among a larger concentration of Latter-day Saints.
In 1946 Henry was enjoying his success and work at Princeton. He had won numerous honorary doctorates and most major awards in chemistry. Given his diligent scientific work with world-renowned scientists, he had an excellent opportunity to be considered for a Nobel Prize.
At about this time Henry received a call from A. Ray Olpin, president of the University of Utah, inviting him to be the dean of the graduate school there and continue his research in chemistry. His wife, Mildred, left the decision up to Henry, but she reminded him of a promise he had made to her years earlier. Henry had promised to move his family closer to Church headquarters when the boys got older. When Henry turned down the offer, Mildred, who had grown up in Utah, asked him to pray about his decision and gave him a letter to read when he arrived at his laboratory.
Upon reading the letter, in which Mildred expressed her disappointment, and after praying and pondering, Henry called President Olpin, saying he would accept the position after all to build up the university’s science department. His apparent sacrifice in leaving Princeton turned out to be a blessing for him and his family. One such blessing was Hal’s willingness to follow his father’s example when he faced a similar crossroads years later.

She was a convert of three years—a recently returned missionary who was never as happy as when she was firing up others with the story of her conversion. When I read the neatly typed version of her story, written at the request of her mission president’s wife, I was awed. And a little envious. Her testimony had developed intensively as she had studied the Book of Mormon, taught the gospel, and sought spiritual confirmation of truth. She hadn’t seen angels, but she had seen quiet miracles. The Lord had touched her life. She, in turn, had touched mine through sharing her story. I was raised in the Church; I admire the enthusiasm of converts.
Such experiences, I told her, ought to be reciprocal. “And so I ought to give you something of equal value in return,” I said. “But I don’t know what.” She tactfully declined my offer to let her read my poetry. (“I never touch the stuff,” she said.) “Why don’t you write your conversion story?” she suggested.
“But I’m not a convert.”
“So? Aren’t you converted?”
I sat down that night to start, dubiously. I reread her story and despaired of ever piecing together a conversion story from my lifetime of attending meetings and teaching Sunday School lessons. The pattern of my conversion wasn’t obvious, but the material was certainly handy—I had kept diaries and journals for years. But a conversion story? A look back through the journals showed that I had always been aware of the Church in my life. My ancestors were baptized in England and New England in the early decades of the Restoration and later crossed the plains. I remembered always being a Mormon.
Which was how I decided to start my story: I remember always being a Mormon. I told of growing up in the Church, of going to corn-feeds and Primary, of singing solos and telling my school friends about the Church. I told how no one needed to tell me when my grandmother died because I knew in my eight-year-old heart that it had happened. I told how all the relatives and seemingly half the town gathered for her funeral in the Rexburg, Idaho, Fourth Ward chapel.
As I reminisced, a theme began to emerge: as a child, I had learned the gospel by living it. Family and teachers had taught me to look to the Lord for strength. I had prayed since I was a child. This seemed ironic, because during my adolescence I had wondered if my prayers were correct and effective. Other people told of dramatic answers to prayers and of lengthy sessions of pleading with the Lord. My prayers, in contrast, were simple, short, and sometimes quite demanding and to the point. Yet I saw, by looking back through journals and memory, that I had always prayed, and that my prayers had always been heartfelt. When grandma died, I prayed. When I lost control of a horse I was riding, I prayed. When I was scared no one would dance with me, I prayed. When I was too terrified to play a piano solo in public, I prayed. Though not every prayer was answered immediately, all were answered.
I realized that looking to the Lord was a pattern of my life, part of me since I was a toddler. I recognized a strength I had questioned before, and I recognized the Lord’s hand in my life as never before.
As I wrote of my intense involvement in Church while I was in high school, I recalled that many of my friends had wanted to know what made my life different from theirs. Why did I spend so much time at church? Why were the Mormon kids so close? What was our 6:30 A.M. religion class about, anyway? I had told some friends about the gospel. One girl friend and her family were baptized a few weeks after I had timidly asked them, “What do you know about the Mormon church?” one night as we sat around their kitchen table after an orchestra excursion. Another friend gained a testimony of the Book of Mormon but did not have the faith at 15 to be baptized. Other friends went to Young Women meetings and to Church dances with me. A young man I met at a high school journalism conference joined the Church after we corresponded philosophically for three years. I had not converted him, but I had introduced him to the truth, and he had recognized it.
Before reviewing these incidents in my journals and writing them out for my conversion story, I had wondered if I were capable of being an effective member-missionary. “Every member a missionary” had rung guilty notes in my ears for years. Now I realized that I was a missionary—in my own way, with my own friends. Now, that knowledge gives me confidence in continuing to share the gospel gladly and openly.
I wrote next of times I had sought help from the Lord through his servants. I wrote of my high regard for one bishop in particular, of the blessing of knowing worthy men who regarded themselves as “the servant of all” (D&C 50:26). I had forgotten those men and the impact of their leadership. I had forgotten that from them came my first motivation to study the scriptures until the Lord’s words became a pattern for my thoughts.
I wrote how one morning while I was attending Brigham Young University I awoke feeling a need to know that my life had purpose. I prayed that as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve spoke at a devotional assembly that morning, his words would give me direction and motivation. The prayer was undeniably answered only hours later. That incident, too, I had not thought of for some time.
Throughout those events, I know the Lord was involved in my life. But, curiously, I had underestimated my ability to successfully live my religion. Writing my conversion story out—all eight typed pages of it—made me more appreciative of me. By reading my journal and writing my story, I understood myself better, and I saw my growth more clearly. I saw that even when I did not yet understand or accept all the principles of the gospel, I accepted the Lord. I wrote: Because I learned to pray as a child—taught by my grandmother, my mother, and uncounted teachers at church—I had a faith in prayer that carried me through periods of doubt. It was my prayers as a youngster that I recalled in my greatest need.
An even greater benefit has come since writing out my own Church history. “And when thou art converted,” Luke wrote, “strengthen thy brethren” (Luke 22:32). I gave a copy of my story to the friend who first shared her conversion story with me. (“It was pretty good,” she said. “You didn’t know you had it in you, did you?”) I have judiciously given it to a few other friends since, as we have shared experiences and encouragement. I share it with nonmember friends who want to learn more about the gospel. I wouldn’t give it to just anybody—too much in it is too private. The friends I share it with are strengthened, and that strengthens me. And now, with my conversion story written, signed, and dated, I am more than strengthened; I am a convert.

Jodi Carlson (10) and Shaun Orr (7) hurried to Jodi’s grandparents’ grocery store in downtown Rexburg to warn them of the coming flood. Jodi’s grandparents decided the store would be the safest place for them during the flood. They went upstairs to the office and watched the flood enter and submerge the ground floor of the store. Within four hours the water was as high as the fifth step below the office door.
“The back wall had holes in it,” Shaun explained later, “and started to break. The water hit the door, broke the lock, and pushed the door over to the wall. A tractor and a cow washed in and lodged under the office where we were. The cow’s body prevented the office floor from collapsing.”
Four hours later their many prayers were answered when they were rescued by the National Guard.

Katya listened to the sounds of the train. The iron wheels rolled with a fast, rhythmic music: clackity, clackity, clackity, clack.
The train moved quickly toward the big city of Moscow, toward the airplane that would take Katya to her new home. Soon she would be flying away from Russia, away from her school and her friends, away from her orphanage, and language, and—and everything she had always known.
Her new parents sat beside her on the train. As her new mama asked her a question in English, the interpreter translated. “Are you hungry, Katya?”
“Dah (yes),” Katya said in her quietest voice.
Her new papa pulled out a package of crackers from his travel bag. They munched in silence, their eyes meeting from time to time. Whenever Katya looked up from her cracker, she found her new mama always smiling at her. So far, their only “words” to each other were smiles and nods.
Katya wanted to ask all kinds of questions, but she was afraid. How long will it take me to speak and understand this new language? She wondered. Will my new brothers and sisters like me? Will the children in my new school make fun of me?
Through the window, the villages seemed to race by. She smoothed the skirt of her new dress, then hugged her doll closer. Filled with all her fears, she started crying softly.
She felt her mama’s hand move gently onto hers. Katya watched while her mama pulled a small tape recorder from the travel bag and turned it on. The music was gentle, and when the singing began she was glad to hear that the words were Russian.
“Ya Gospodnia dietia (I am a child of God).” She had never heard such ideas. The song continued, “And he has sent me here, Has given me an earthly home With parents kind and dear.”*
As Katya listened to this new song—with its ideas she had never before thought about—the words seemed to melt through her, slowly finding their way to her heart, until she felt as if her whole self, inside and out, was covered with a warm quilt.
As the music continued, she smiled at her new parents and they smiled back.
The new song had chased her fears away.

Just having somewhere specifically for young people has already made a difference for missionary work. Elder Webb tells of two missionaries who were on a university campus contacting young single adult students. They were turned down flat by the first 10 people they contacted. Then they changed their approach, mentioning the wonderful new center nearby for young single adults where there were all kinds of activities and classes. The missionaries reported having serious conversations with 28 of the next 30 people they contacted.