Gospel Story Finder

Distractions can sometimes prevent us from experiencing God’s love in our family relationships and activities. A mother, feeling that gadgets were taking over her family relationships, came up with a solution. At the dinner table and at other family times, she just calls out, “Phones on the deck; let us have face time.” She says that this is the new norm for their family and that it strengthens their relationship as a family when they have real face time. They now enjoy quality Come, Follow Me discussions together as a family.

One evening following a long day’s work at the hospital, I entered the BYU Salt Lake Center to attend a graduate-level course. On this particular evening I was very tired, and I chose to take the elevator to class rather than carry my very large and heavy backpack of books up the stairs. As I stood waiting for the elevator I commiserated: I was tired, and I wondered if this goal of advanced education was worth it. I knew that it would open new doors in employment but that it would not change my financial income. I thought, “What on earth were you thinking when you returned to school?” As I considered my motives, I glanced to the side and noticed the words “Enter to learn; go forth to serve,” and I knew immediately that my education would help me obtain new light and truth and make available opportunities of faithful service that I had not previously contemplated.

I love the motto of Brigham Young University. It provided guidance as I completed my education, and it continues to guide my service today.

One night when the elders came to the Cantos home, Pedrito was unusually ill. The elders felt prompted to discuss the principle of priesthood administrations. The family eagerly sought a blessing for Pedrito, who was so thin you could see the bones under his skin. Up until then, he had been unable to tolerate any food except milk. He could neither walk nor talk, and he rarely slept more than an hour or two at a time.

The elders administered to the child and left the house with a strong feeling that he would recover.

From that time on, Pedrito began to improve. The Cantos family were baptized, and the welfare services missionaries helped Sister Cantos get Pedrito started on solid foods. He began to gain weight, and for the first time in his life, he slept through the night. He also learned to walk and talk. The frequent, costly trips to Guayaquil were no longer necessary.

On 8 October 2024, 31 young single adults from Papua New Guinea arrived in Tonga to attend the Nuku‘alofa Tonga Temple for the first time. The group included two full-time missionaries serving in the Papua New Guinea Lae Mission and most of the others have received or are waiting to receive mission calls.
They were warmly welcomed at the airport with traditional candy leis by former Lae mission leaders, Sitiveni and Kilisitina Fehoko (2016–2019), as well as several returned missionaries who served in Papua New Guinea.
After receiving their own endowments, the young adults lovingly performed proxy baptisms, initiatory, and endowments for their grandparents and other ancestors. They finished their temple service with a final sealing session, linking and uniting generations with eternal sealing power.
The young single adults had researched family names in anticipation of doing temple work for their deceased relatives.
In the evenings, they were met by Elder Sione Tuione, an Area Seventy as well as former mission leaders in New Guinea including Isileli and Milika Fatani, (Papua New Guinea Lae Mission 2019–2022), Mosese and Akanesi Naeata (Papua New Guinea Port Moresby Mission 1997–2000), and the Fehokos who offered powerful messages of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and eternal families.
The Fatanis and Fehokos provided delicious Tongan feasts and local wards hosted dances each evening, which the young adults loved.
The young adults also enjoyed an afternoon of sightseeing and shopping. Several of them received dental care at the Church’s dental clinic at Liahona High School.

I just started receiving the New Era in November 1990 and I love it. My favorite was the November Q&A on young men going on missions.
One morning during a sacrament meeting, the speakers were talking about missionary work. They were encouraging all the young men to go. I was watching the interpreter translating the speaker’s words into sign language and I started thinking about my own plans.
My heart swelled with hope and a desire to serve a mission. So I went to talk to my bishop and he encouraged me to go. I finally prayed and decided to go when I turn 19.
Michael RobbKalama, Washington

Learning how to work hard is essential while in your youth. Hard physical work is a part of life. I learned that lesson early when I was called on a special Church-service mission to help build meetinghouses. I was only 16 years old and had just graduated from my school. I was assigned to the bricklaying crew. It was hard work, but I loved it.
We were put in groups and traveled from Sweden, where I lived, to several other countries close by. At each location we would make arrangements to stay with a member from the local ward. I was struck by the willingness of good, solid Church members to open their homes and contribute whatever they could. Even if their own finances were not in abundance, they desired to serve.
When I received the call to serve this mission, I was a little bit nervous, but I did not hesitate to accept it. I had been taught from a young age to say yes when asked to serve in any capacity for the Lord’s work. So, more than nervousness, I felt excitement. It had been a great experience to help build meetinghouses for the Church.

When Ron was about 17 and I was about 12, his teacher told him that he needed to gain a testimony of his own. He said to me, “I intend to find out for myself if the Church is true. I’m going to pay any price to know for myself.”
Over the next few weeks, I watched him. I’d find him on his knees praying. I’d see him reading the Book of Mormon. I was amazed at how diligent he was.
One morning a few weeks later, I found Ron lying on his bed with his knees tucked up on his chest. He had great pain in his lower right abdomen.
My mom called for an ambulance. As we stood there over my brother, Ron said to my dad through gritted teeth, “Please, I need a priesthood blessing.” I didn’t know if my dad knew how to give a priesthood blessing. I’d never seen him do it. But he laid his hands on my brother’s head and pronounced a blessing of healing. About the time my dad said, “Amen,” Ron jumped off the bed and said the pain was totally gone. He was absolutely thrilled that the Lord had answered his prayer through that blessing.
My parents still took my brother to the hospital to be checked. All the doctors could say was that Ron’s symptoms sounded like he had had a ruptured appendix, but now they could find no trace of a problem.
Later that day, Ron told me, “Gene, I now know that the gift of healing is real. When Dad put his hands on my head, I felt the Spirit of the Lord go through my whole body. I know the priesthood is real.”
Then he said, “I also now know for myself that the Church is true. Not because of the healing, but because of what has been happening to me in reading the Book of Mormon. I’ve got my testimony by reading and praying over every page. I know all that we’ve been taught in the Church is correct, and I am going on a mission.” I’d never heard Ron say that before. It was evident to me, even as a young boy, that he had really been impacted by something.

Sister Dil had only six weeks left on her mission in New Zealand when she found out she would be spending those last weeks serving with Sister Tuala!
“It’s the very last thing I would have signed myself up for,” says Sister Dil.
Sister Dil and Sister Tuala had been starting players for their high schools’ top competitive basketball teams in Auckland, New Zealand. They were rivals. They would often play against each other in final tournaments, and it was not pretty.
“To put it into context a little bit,” says Sister Tuala, “we would walk off the court with scratches and bruising.”
Sister Dil and Sister Tuala spent a lot of time training and playing basketball. “Basketball was our lives,” says Sister Dil.
After graduating from high school, they both felt impressed to serve a mission—although neither of them had ever felt a desire to serve before.
Just because Sister Dil and Sister Tuala served in the same mission didn’t mean they were instant friends. After being rivals for so long, Sister Dil and Sister Tuala still had a hard time seeing each other as anything else.
In fact, the first day Sister Tuala saw Sister Dil, one of her first thoughts was, “I don’t know if I’m supposed to like her.”
So when Sister Tuala and Sister Dil were assigned to serve together, it was definitely weird.
Both had ideas about each other based on how they played on the basketball court. Each thought the other was aggressive, competitive, and mean.
But things began to change as they got to know each other. Sister Dil realized Sister Tuala is “the complete opposite” of how she had always seen her. “She is actually a very loving person—one of the most loving companions I’ve served with,” Sister Dil says.
Sister Tuala had a similar experience. She hadn’t realized that her feelings of rivalry toward Sister Dil had been “quite an unconscious conflict” in her life.
Those negative feelings of conflict and judgment were replaced with love and understanding as she began to see who Sister Dil really was. And although Sister Tuala thought Sister Dil was quiet, she found that “Sister Dil can talk!”
In their newfound friendship, Sister Dil and Sister Tuala realized that maybe they had never really been enemies after all.
“In basketball you build in your mind this idea that we’ve got to win, and every other team’s the enemy,” says Sister Dil. “And then basketball finishes, and you realize, ‘Oh, they’re no longer the enemy. They probably never were really the enemy.’”
Now, Sister Dil and Sister Tuala see that they are on the same “team”—God’s team.
Both sisters felt God’s hand in their assignment as companions and know the power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ allowed them to experience healing and change.
“Jesus Christ made that sacrifice so all these things that have gone wrong in the past can be healed, made right, and made better,” Sister Dil says. “We can forgive. We can forget. We can move on, and things change.”
Not only did Sister Tuala and Sister Dil heal their conflict, but they also learned how to see others as God sees them.
“Coming out here and being able to see my companion and other people in a different light, I realize that every person’s story matters,” says Sister Tuala. “And everyone needs the Atonement of Jesus Christ.”
They learned that although it can be difficult, it’s possible for two people who once saw each other as enemies to come together through love.
“It doesn’t matter what age you are or what ethnicity you are,” says Sister Tuala, “or whether you’re an atheist or religious.
“If I can work alongside someone who I never really had a great relationship with, and the two of us come together for one main purpose, then other people can too.”
Oh, they’re no longer the enemy. They probably never were really the enemy.

This is a story of a young girl, living in New York, who before age three lost her father when his boat sank on a large lake. She, her mother, older brother, and younger sister moved to a new city in another state to live with her aunt and uncle. Sometime after the family arrived, missionaries and members of a newly organized religion came to their town with the glorious news of the Restoration of the gospel. They told a remarkable story of an angel delivering an ancient record to a young man named Joseph Smith, a record he had translated by the power of God. Two of the visitors, Oliver Cowdery and John Whitmer, had actually seen the engraved metal pages of the ancient record with their own eyes, and Whitmer witnessed he had held the golden plates in his own hands. This record had been recently published, and Brother Whitmer brought the book with him. The name of the book, of course, was the Book of Mormon.
When 12-year-old Mary heard the missionaries speak about the book, she had a special feeling in her heart. Even though the Book of Mormon was thick with many pages, Mary yearned to read it. When Brother Whitmer departed, he gave one precious copy of the book to Brother Isaac Morley, who was a friend of Mary’s uncle and a local leader in the new church.
Mary later recorded: “I went to [Brother Morley’s] house … and asked to see the Book; [he] put it in my hand, [and] as I looked at it, I felt such a desire to read it, that I could not refrain from asking him to let me take it home and read it. … He said … he had hardly had time to read a chapter in it himself, and but few of the brethren had even seen it, but I plead so earnestly for it, he finally said, ‘child, if you will bring this book home before breakfast tomorrow morning, you may take it.’”
Mary ran home and was so captured by the book that she stayed up nearly all night reading it. The next morning, when she returned the book, Brother Morley said, “I guess you did not read much in it” and “I don’t believe you can tell me one word of it.” Mary stood up straight and repeated from memory the first verse of the Book of Mormon. She then told him the story of the prophet Nephi. Mary later wrote, “He gazed at me in surprise, and said, ‘child, take this book home and finish it, I can wait.’”
A short time later, Mary finished reading the book and was the first person in her town to read the entire book. She knew it was true and that it came from Heavenly Father. As she looked to the book, she looked to the Lord.
One month later a special visitor came to her house. Here is what Mary wrote about her memorable encounter that day: “When [Joseph Smith] saw me he looked at me so earnestly. … After a moment or two he … gave me a great blessing … and made me a present of the book, and said he would give Brother Morley another [copy]. … We all felt that he was a man of God, for he spoke with power, and as one having authority.”
This young girl, Mary Elizabeth Rollins, saw many other miracles in her life and always kept her testimony of the Book of Mormon.1 This story has special meaning to me because she is my fourth-great-aunt. Through Mary’s example, along with other experiences in my life, I have learned that one is never too young to seek and receive a personal testimony of the Book of Mormon.

Imagine living in a city planned by a dictator. The dictator imports thousands of people from throughout the country to create a worker city, filled with row after row of gray apartment buildings and enormous factories spewing black clouds from tall smokestacks. Freedom of any kind, but especially freedom of religion, is practically nonexistent.
Until just a few years ago, Dunaújváros, Hungary, a small city on the Danube River, was such a place. But now, after a generation without religion, young people are learning about the plan of salvation.
What began as a small branch in 1989, has now grown to two branches, 230 members strong. Many of these new converts are youth, and like the Saints in the days of Joseph Smith, these members are discovering the newness and beauty of the gospel—and telling others about it.
Twenty-year-old Csapó András was one of the earliest converts. (Hungarian surnames are used first, followed by the given name.) Baptized in 1989 at age 15, he is now the seminary teacher in his branch and is preparing to serve a full-time mission.
As he welcomes his class members to seminary this evening, 13 students arrange their chairs around a table covered with their well-used copies of the Book of Mormon. They sing “I Am a Child of God.” A young woman offers the opening prayer.
Since the Church is so new here, everyone is a recent convert. Seven of these students have been members for two years, five for only a year. Three are the only members of the Church in their families. Four have brought parents into the Church.
Two young women in this seminary class, both 16, are named Brigitta. “From my classmate Seres Brigitta I heard about the Church for the first time,” says Bozó Brigitta. “I began attending sacrament meeting and made a lot of friends here. So when youth conference came, I naturally thought I needed to go. At the conference, I felt for the first time that I needed to belong to this church. I was baptized a week later.”
Two months after Brigitta’s own baptism, her mother and her 15-year-old brother, László, were baptized. (Her father had died six years earlier.) “Now the three of us—our whole family—are members of the Church. It’s wonderful!”
“At first I thought just my friend would be baptized,” says her classmate Seres Brigitta. “I was amazed that her family also joined the Church.”
When an LDS classmate invited Horváth Attila, 16, to sacrament meeting, Attila liked what he saw.
“Then, when my friend told me the Church was very family-centered, I became even more interested.”
Within weeks, Attila was baptized.
Three months later, his father asked to hear the discussions. “I knew enough about the Church by that time,” says Attila, “that I could help my father learn about it. The knowledge I had received in seminary helped me explain the scriptures to him. But since he smoked and drank coffee a lot, I didn’t have the faith that he would be baptized. I was amazed when I saw how—with the help of our Heavenly Father—he was able to rid those things from his life. Two months later, I baptized my father!
“Then when my mother saw how happy my father and I were in the Church, she also started to be interested. I baptized her three months after baptizing my father! The next day, my whole family came to church and bore their testimonies. It’s not possible to describe what kind of feeling it was for me.”
As these young people are converted to the gospel, they help one another remain strong. Last summer, Klein Kinga, 19, and another young member of the Church found employment away from home. “There weren’t any other Church members around—just the two of us and the world,” she says. “We had a lot of adversity. When we came home in the evenings, we always prayed together, read together from the Book of Mormon, and waited for the letters we received from our Church friends here in Dunaújváros. These things helped us endure that difficult time.”
Balatoni Gábor and Borsos Péter, both 18, had a similar experience while working away from home. “All around us, others smoked, drank, used vulgar language, and had other unworthy habits. At first, it was difficult for us,” says Gábor. “Then we found a place where we could pray together each day. It helped a lot.”
One afternoon, Vereckei Krisztina, 16, was home alone. “I love to feel the Holy Ghost, to feel that this church is true,” she says. “But that day, I wasn’t feeling it, and I missed it a lot.” She tried listening to Church music, reading the Book of Mormon, and praying. But for some reason, she still wasn’t feeling the Spirit.
“I went to visit my friend Seres Brigitta,” she says. “I asked her to come and walk with me. As we walked, we talked about Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father. Without thinking about it, I told her my testimony, and she told me hers. We sat on a city bench for two or three hours, sharing our testimonies with each other. I felt the Holy Ghost and felt that my testimony had been strengthened. I was very happy after that.”
Seminary provides regular opportunities for these testimony-building and unifying experiences. “There are two important reasons why I think seminary is an important program,” says Borsos Éva, 16. “First, if you prepare for seminary, you have to read from the Book of Mormon regularly. And this is a good thing. Second, seminary gives us opportunities to be together. The youth in this branch are strong and are close to one another—and we can thank the seminary program for this. When we share testimonies with each other—and we do this a lot—it’s very worthwhile. About a week ago in our seminary class, we had a testimony meeting, and the Spirit was very strong. This gives me a lot of strength.”
Other milestones were trips to the Freiberg Germany Temple in April and August 1994 to be baptized for the dead. Latter-day Saint youth from all over Hungary crowded onto buses to make the 22-hour journey. Then they returned home with a mission: to tell others about it so everyone could share in the power and beauty of the experience.
“I didn’t know the people I was being baptized for,” says Somodi Zsuzsanna, 18. “But about halfway through I suddenly felt the Spirit. I felt that perhaps that person had accepted the gospel in the spirit world and had been waiting for somebody to be baptized in her name.”
Where there was once only gray industry, seminary students in Dunaújváros are now finding the beauty in their city. They are learning to rejoice in their newfound gift. They are striving to share it with others.
“There’s no feeling more wonderful,” says Vereckei Krisztina, 16, “than knowing that our Heavenly Father loves us.”
These Hungarian seminary students—singing a new song in their city on the Danube—have that assurance.

Illustration by Joel Castillo
“Do you believe in God?” one of my new co-workers asked me.
“Yes, why?”
“Because Mr. Lee* doesn’t,” he said. “Whatever you do, don’t get into an argument with him about the existence of God. You’ll lose.”
It was my first day on the job at a drive-in movie theater in Arizona, USA. I’d just graduated from high school and wanted to make some money for my education and my mission, not get in a debate with an atheist boss. I took my co-worker’s advice.
My co-worker and most of the other employees, on the other hand, did believe in God. But that didn’t stop them from swearing, eating food from the snack bar without paying for it, and smoking marijuana after work.
I never joined them in any of those activities, and it didn’t take long before they wanted to know why. I told them I was a Latter-day Saint, I told them about the Word of Wisdom, and I told them I was preparing to serve a mission for my Church. They didn’t make fun of me, but they did start to call me “The Reverend.”
One night when Mr. Lee was off, another employee and I ran the cash register at the snack bar. That night after the snack bar had closed and we’d added up all the money from the register, the assistant manager told us we had $100 more than what the cash register receipts said we should have.
“There’s no record of this $100,” he said. “So it looks like we each make an extra $33 tonight.”
I didn’t feel right accepting the cash, but I put it in my pocket anyway. The longer the money stayed there, the worse I felt. About half an hour later I approached the assistant manager.
“The money may be unaccounted for,” I told him, “but it isn’t mine.” Then I handed it back.
The following week Mr. Lee called me into his office. I was hoping he didn’t want to talk about God, but actually he did. He asked some questions about the Church and my beliefs. After I’d answered, he said something that surprised me.
“You appear to be the only worker at the drive-in I can trust,” he said. “I’d like to ask a favor, and I’d like to give you some extra work.”
He told me that the other employees were, in his words, “stealing me blind.” He asked me to keep setting a good example for them and to encourage them to be honest. Then he gave me some extra after-hour security duties he didn’t trust the other workers to do. Those extra duties meant more money for college and my mission.
I didn’t ask Mr. Lee if the money I’d been given the week before was a test. But obviously, the assistant manager told him what had happened. I was just glad I’d been honest. I was also glad my boss knew that my belief in God and my participation at church had influenced my actions.
Through that experience, I learned for myself that “being honest will enhance your future opportunities and your ability to be guided by the Holy Ghost” (For the Strength of Youth [2011], 19).
I quit the drive-in job at the end of the summer and left for college. When I returned home during Thanksgiving vacation, I went to the drive-in one night to watch a movie and to say hello to my former co-workers. During the movie, one of them announced over the drive-in speakers: “Reverend Morris, please report to the snack bar. Reverend Morris, your congregation would like to see you.”
We had a fun reunion, and I was glad I’d left everyone with a positive impression. I’m especially grateful, though, that my honest behavior had made a believer out of my boss.

After dinner with his family, Hal read through the term paper once more, and after correcting two typing errors, placed it in a yellow plastic cover. “Twenty-seven pages,” he thought. “That’s the longest paper I hope I ever have to do. I sure hope Mr. Gillam is interested in the post-war politics of Yugoslavia.” Hal put the paper with his other schoolwork. “I’m glad I started on it when I did, or I’d have never had it ready to turn in tomorrow,” he thought. “That man really expects a lot of us seniors.” With his homework finished, Hal went downstairs and watched a TV show with his little brother before going to bed.
Three houses down the street, Paul, another member of Mr. Gillam’s current affairs class, had gulped down a few bites of mom’s homemade lasagna, one of his favorite meals, and said, “Sorry, mom, I’ve just got to get that paper started—and finished!” and hurried to his room. His study desk was covered with notecards, most of them obviously written in haste. “At least I got some research notes taken at the library last night, so I can type all night if I have to.” He moved some of the cards aside to slide his typewriter into place, put a piece of paper in the machine, and looked at the first stack of cards. “I’ll just have to skip the first-draft stage,” he sighed, “not to mention the second-draft stage. This paper has to be turned in tomorrow morning or else.” As he started to type the one and only draft of the paper that Mr. Gillam would use to decide half of his semester grade, he wondered, “When will I ever learn to start sooner?”
Now, which paper will impress Mr. Gillam more? Right the first time! Obviously Head-start Hal’s paper has a much better chance of being organized and well-written, more thoroughly researched and error-free than does Procrastinator Paul’s. (Hal has a better chance of being awake in class tomorrow, too.)
It’s really the lazy man’s way of getting a job done. Here’s how it works. Let’s say you have a task to do that appears difficult and not too much fun and that needs to be done in two months. For example, the term paper assigned to Hal and Paul mentioned earlier. Most of us, on receiving such an assignment, go through a thought process something like this: “Two months is a long time, so I won’t worry about it for a couple of weeks. (You know the old saying: Never put off till tomorrow what you can put off till next week.) But I’ll surely get started then, and I’ll get it done on time.” In fact, that’s just what Paul thought! But those two weeks were soon gone, and he said, “I just don’t have time right now, but I’ll get to it.” And suddenly the two months had passed, and it was only two more days until the paper was due, and Paul ran to the library … and you know the rest.
But what did Hal do differently? When he got the assignment, he thought like this: (A) “I’d better get started on this. I’ll choose my theme by tomorrow.” (B) “I’ll start my research next Monday by looking up my sources and researching one book per day. That way I can get the main research and note-taking done in just a few minutes a day in the library. By doing one book per school day for three weeks, I’ll have 15 sources.” (C) “Then I’ll start the writing and organizing of the paper.” (D) “Two days before the paper is due, I’ll type the final draft so that the night before it’s due, I can make any corrections needed.”
Is Hal really a better student than Paul is? No, they both seem concerned and conscientious, but Hal’s methods certainly are more effective. Let’s analyze those methods. Notice that Hal had a plan. Notice too that Hal did the main part of his work by sneaking up on it, by doing a little at a time, so that it didn’t seem like a big job. He managed his research in 20 minutes a day over 15 days. That’s 5 hours, but, since it was spread out, it didn’t seem hard. Paul did his research all at once, on the next-to-last night. And it was work.

After joining the Church in 1970, I took to ministering like a duck to water. I enjoyed meeting Church sisters in their homes. On one occasion, we visited an old mill that had been bought by a family group and divided into four homes.
We called on the mother first and found that the water level of the millstream was rising. The younger members of the family were filling sandbags, and my companion went to help them. I stayed with the mother, watching with concern as the stream flowed over its banks and crept up to her front door. Armed with brushes, we attempted to keep the water out.
I was then called on to care for the youngest child, who was 18 months old, located at that time in another of the homes. By now, the water was a foot deep. I found myself being thrown over someone’s shoulder in a fireman’s lift, to keep me somewhat dry.
I found the little girl sleeping; the rest of the children were at school. She was calm on waking up and seeing me. I told her that her mum and dad were busy downstairs. We looked out the window at the busy adults. Together we played and talked until the rest of the children came home from school. Suddenly I was ‘mum’ to thirteen children! I loved every minute of it, and when the brethren came to take me home, I didn’t want to go. I got the eldest boy and girl to promise to take care of their brothers and sisters until their parents returned. I had loved being their temporary mum and felt so responsible for them. To say the least, it had been a very memorable ministering visit.

Let me close by briefly relating an experience that occurred a few years ago, again in the islands. It will demonstrate the universality of the basic premise with which we began: That all people do have a mission and can perform it, no matter where they are or under what circumstances they may live, be it here in the United States or on a small island in the Pacific. As I conclude with that story and testimony, let us reevaluate our lives and make sure that we are doing with them what the Lord would have us do.
Years ago, as a young missionary, I was impressed by an older island couple who always seemed to be helping the missionaries and others. Every time I went to their home I would find them reading the scriptures, fixing a meal for a missionary, tending a neighbor’s child, preparing a Relief Society lesson, or rendering some sort of service. They were not blessed with children of their own, but they were always helping so-called “outcast” children.
I was soon moved to another area and left for home without ever returning to that area. I often wondered about that couple who had so impressed me. I was sure that the Lord would bless them.
Years later I was again in the area and a messenger came and asked if I would visit a certain widow named Luisa. Upon inquiring, I realized that it was the family I had wondered about all these years. Her husband had obviously passed away; and as the messenger gave me the address I realized that she still lived in the same old house where she had lived those many years before. Of course we made arrangements to visit her.
It was late afternoon when we drove up to the home. I was surprised to realize that hardly anything had changed; it was a neat and clean home, but a very humble one. As I walked up to the house I noticed her waiting by the open door. She held her hand out in a slightly waving fashion, and I realized she had gone blind. As I took her in my arms, I realized also that she had not long to stay in this life, for I felt nothing but the frailest body of skin and bones.
As we sat and visited, she talked about her desire to help the “poor” people. I suggested that she might need some help herself rather than giving help. She kindly informed me that she was rich and had nothing to worry about. I was a little confused and began to inquire. I found that they had often saved money to pay their airfare to the temple, only to end up lending it to someone else who needed it more. When all the facts came out I asked, “Luisa, how can you say you don’t have anything to worry about? You have no husband, you have no children, you’re blind, you are in poor health, you live in a poor home, you haven’t been to the temple. How can you say that you are rich?”
She stopped all of my questions by quietly informing me that she was rich because she knew that the Lord was pleased with her life. She said, “I know that I will be with my husband soon. I know that the Lord will bless us with a family. I know that I have not done all that I should, but I know that the Lord is pleased with what I have done.”
I cannot express fully what happened at that time. However, I would like you to listen to the seventh verse of the sixth section of the Doctrine and Covenants, wherein the Lord says, “Seek not for riches but for wisdom, and behold, the mysteries of God shall be unfolded unto you [even the discovering of your mission and calling], and then shall you be made rich. Behold, he that hath eternal life is rich.” You see, Luisa had taken the time to discover her mission and calling in life and had done whatever was necessary to fulfill it.

Blake Heinze, a teacher in the Selah Ward, Yakima Washington Stake, achieved many outstanding awards during his first year of cross-country running. Blake is a freshman at Selah High School, which has an enrollment of just over 900 students.

Blake placed second in his flight at the Richland Invitational. In the state AA competition, Blake took second for the Selah team and seventh overall. He was the only freshman in the top 15 finishers. Approximately 120 harriers ran at state.

In AAU regional competition in Spokane, Blake again came in second, behind a four-year runner, and went on to National AAU competition in St. Louis, Missouri. There he came in 22nd out of 90 starters. The boys ran in freezing 20 degree F. weather.

The high school team practices both mornings and after school, but Blake finds time to attend seminary, run his four-mile workouts, and still be to school by 8:30 weekday mornings.

In addition to his love of sports, Blake is a member of the high school band. He was a starter on the ninth grade basketball team and will participate in track during the spring.

Blake is currently first counselor in the teachers quorum, has been president and second counselor in the deacons quorum, and is a regular attender in priesthood, Sunday School, sacrament meeting, and activity night.

Explorer Everett likes to dig for treasure. He pretends that sparkly rocks are gold coins. He pretends that sticks are dinosaur bones. Everett runs to show Mom what he found. Look out! Everett trips over a rock and hurts his knee. He feels very sad. Mom puts a bandage on his knee. “Let’s say a prayer,” Mom says. They pray that his knee will feel better. Now Explorer Everett is on the hunt again! As he looks for a treasure map, his knee starts to feel better. Everett feels happy. He knows that Heavenly Father and Jesus love him.

I’d first like to tell you a story. This is a story that you’re familiar with. It’s one that Elder Sill has repeated. It’s a story about Joan of Arc. You’ve heard this story, and you’ve studied about this young lady. As you know, she was a French peasant maid who heard angelic voices calling her to aid her country. Unlike the fictional story of Don Quixote, the story of Joan of Arc was taken from the court records of the great trial that convened in her behalf in 1431. Her biography comes to us under oath, from the witness stand.

Joan of Arc found her bankrupt country helpless and hopeless, lying in chains, enslaved by an alien conqueror. Joan said to the uncrowned king, “Be not afraid, for God has sent me to help you.” Then she laid her inspired hand upon her withered country and by the power of her calling broke the siege of Orleans, drove out the British, saved France, and crowned the Dauphin the king of Rheims.

Louis Kossuth says that Joan of Arc was the only person of either sex who ever held supreme command over a great national army at the age of seventeen. By nineteen this untaught girl had become the deliverer of France and the savior of her country. She explained her power by saying something that’s significant: “When God fights, it’s of small consequence whether the hand that holds the sword is big or little.” Everyone knew that in her heart was something that raised her above the greatest men of her day. She had the mysterious ability to turn mobs of cowards into armies of patriots. Her soldiers went into battle with joy in their eyes and a song in their hearts. Her own soul was the embodiment of nobility and righteousness. Although she lived in the most brutal, wicked, and rotten period since the Dark Ages, she did her job as well as anyone that any nation has ever produced. She was perhaps one of the few entirely unselfish persons whose name holds a high place in history. She lived when crime was the common business of mankind. She was truthful when lying was the ordinary speech of man. She was honest when honesty was a lost virtue. She maintained her personal dignity unimpaired in an age of fawning and servility. She had dauntless courage when even hope had perished in the hearts of her countrymen. She was spotlessly pure in mind and body when most of society was foul in both. She was the genius of patriotism. She said that even the rude business of war could be better conducted without profanity and other brutalities of speech. Few could understand why Joan continued to be alert, vigorous, and confident while her strongest men were exhausted by long marches and severe extensive exposure.

On one occasion, with an almost impossible objective ahead, she said, “I will lead the men over the wall.” One of her generals said, “Not a man will follow you.” Then she said something else that’s very significant. Joan said, “I will not look back to see whether anyone is following or not.” Then, with a flash of her sword, she gave the signal and led the way, and the soldiers of France followed her. With her unshakable belief in her mission glowing in her heart, she swept everything before her. She sent a thrill of courage and conviction through the French army such as neither King nor patriot could produce.

When her country was safe, she declined the highest honors and the most profitable employments that a loving and grateful country could bestow upon her. As she was planning to return to her family, she was treacherously betrayed into the hands of her foreign enemies. For many weary months she was kept in chains as she underwent a long and wicked trial on trumped-up charges of witchcraft and sorcery. She was threatened and abused. The judges and jurors were carefully selected enemies; she was finally condemned to die for witchcraft. As the fires were being lighted around the stake at which this nineteen-year-old French peasant maid would be burned alive, she was given an opportunity to obtain her freedom by denying what she believed. In choosing the fire above her freedom, she said this, and this is significant:

I know this now. Every man gives his life for what he believes. Every woman gives her life for what she believes. Sometimes people believe in little or nothing, and yet they give their lives for little or nothing. One life is all we have, and we live it as we believe in living it, and then it is gone. But to surrender what you are and live without belief is more terrible than dying, even more terrible than dying young.

For some, there will come the temptation to dishonor a personal standard of honesty. In a business law class at the university I attended, I remember that one particular classmate never prepared for the class discussions. I thought to myself, “How is he going to pass the final examination?”

I discovered the answer when he came to the classroom for the final examination, on a winter’s day, wearing on his bare feet only a pair of sandals. I was surprised and watched him as the class began. All of his books had been placed upon the floor. He slipped the sandals from his feet; and then, with toes that he had trained and had prepared with glycerine, he skillfully turned the pages of one of the books which he had placed on the floor, thereby viewing the answers to the examination questions.

He received one of the highest grades in that course on business law. But the day of reckoning came. Later, as he prepared to take his comprehensive examination, for the first time the dean of his particular discipline said, “This year I shall depart from tradition and shall conduct an oral, rather than a written, test.” Our favorite, trained-toe expert found that he had his foot in his mouth on that occasion and failed the examination.4

Several decades ago, when I was a student on holiday, I had the privilege of working in the kitchen of the London England Temple. On my first day, I was set to peel and chop a mound of vegetables.
The brother in charge of the kitchen came to speak to me and said, “Helen, there’s something you must understand about working in this kitchen. We have a rule; if you drop anything and it breaks, or if you spill anything—” I thought I knew what was coming, but no, “— you don’t clean it up. Someone else will clean it up. We have this rule so that people won’t feel bad about any mishap or mistake they make. You see, Helen, this is the temple, and we live according to a higher law here.”
I found that everyone in the kitchen followed this rule. If anyone spilt or dropped anything, whoever was at hand would immediately shoo them out of the way and cheerfully clean up the mess.
I never heard a cross word, a complaint, or a grumble in all my time there. All was bustle, kindness, and good cheer. Since then, I have often thought of those dear souls.
I came to know of some of their trials and pains. I don’t think any one of them had any great claim to education, social standing, wealth, or anything the world values. But they had learned something a great many people never know: The Saviour’s higher law of kindness, forbearance, and love.

President and Sister Kasue and their children, along with many others, fasted and prayed that the Church would be officially recognized in Kenya. “Sometimes in family prayer I would forget to pray for the registration of the Church in Kenya,” President Kasue remembers. “My children would remind me and say, ‘Oh, Dad, you didn’t pray for the registration of the Church.’ My children had strong faith.” When official recognition was finally received on 25 February 1991, many wept, prayed, and fasted as an expression of gratitude.