Gospel Story Finder

But Joseph did more than use soft words guided by the Spirit to show love and compassion for his enemies. His kind treatment of two spiteful persecutors is one example.
On order from the governor of Missouri, two agents, Reynolds and Wilson, arrested Joseph in Nauvoo in June 1843. They cruelly abused their prisoner, punching his sides with their pistols, threatening his life, and taking him away before he could see his family.
The tables were soon turned on the two officers when they were forced to return to Nauvoo to be tried for threatening the lives of Joseph and another Church member. Joseph had a feast prepared in celebration of his safe return, and among his guests were Reynolds and Wilson.12 That afternoon, in a speech to Nauvoo’s citizens, Joseph reported, speaking of Reynolds and Wilson:
“I have brought these men to Nauvoo, and committed them to her from whom I was torn, not as prisoners in chains, but as prisoners of kindness. I have treated them kindly. I have had the privilege of rewarding them good for evil. They took me unlawfully, treated me rigorously, strove to deprive me of my rights, and would have run with me into Missouri to have been murdered, if Providence had not interposed. But now they are in my hands; and I have taken them into my house, set them at the head of my table, and placed before them the best which my house afforded; and they were waited upon by my wife, whom they deprived of seeing me when I was taken.”13

One woman felt she had little or no light in her life. Her husband spent three days of each week traveling out of town because of his work. This left her home alone to manage their house and two small children. She was just nineteen when they were married. She had almost no experience in caring for young children, and certainly felt no confidence in handling her own. She often found their demands and the pressing household duties overwhelming. In her frustration, she grew increasingly harsh with them until her abusive behavior became frightening, even to herself. Feeling alone, ashamed, and inadequate, she was often in the depths of despair. What light did the gospel offer to her?
She and her husband considered themselves good members of the Church. But what difference did that make when the children were crying, the laundry piled higher and higher, the letter from her mother remained unanswered, and the dress she was to make this week for her husband’s company party lay unfinished on the sewing machine? All these frustrations spoke so loudly the discouragement of the present. They made the blessings of the gospel seem very far away.
Fortunately, there were those who helped her learn to apply the principles of the gospel in solving many of her problems. Her visiting teachers, responding to her anxiety over her children, brought a special toy for each child. They had carefully selected playthings that an adult could use with a child in a delightful but problem-solving way. They took time to show the mother how to relate to her children through activity. She was surprised to find how happy and responsive the children were. They began to look forward to a playtime association with their mother. She realized that she was providing for their needs through play, and that they were becoming more relaxed with her.
Because of the relationship they were establishing through their activities together, the children were more willing to do as their mother asked—to pick up their clothes, put their toys away, and take their naps. This, in turn, helped her have more time to organize her other responsibilities. She learned to be considerate of her children and sensitive to their concerns. She has continued giving the children this special attention each day. Love in this home is now more than a concept; it is the way they respond to each other’s needs.

For example, on Monday, 17 April 1893, Brother Andrew Smith, Jr., a member of the Tabernacle Choir, opened his eyes as President Cannon read the dedicatory prayer. He said of the experience, “I saw a bright light appeared above his [President Cannon’s] head and behind him from his shoulders upwards. This light remained in that position a few moments and then raised until I could see the face of a personage in the midst of it. It was the countenance of President Brigham Young. I turned my gaze away for a moment … and then I beheld the person of President John Taylor. … I also saw a personage whom I took to be Hyrum Smith … then Orson Pratt, whom I at once recognized. … When the prayer was concluded and just before and during the sacred hosanna shout, I noticed a bright halo of light surrounding several of the brethren. … I was overcome and wept for joy. Having my head bowed for a short time I saw nothing more for a few moments. On raising it again I saw a brilliant light over the head of each member of the First Presidency while they sat upon the stand. Whichever way any of the speakers turned while addressing the people, the light followed every movement made by them.”

I learned to swim in the swift-running currents of the Provo River in beautiful Provo Canyon. The “old swimming hole” was in a deep portion of the river, formed by a large rock which had fallen into the river, I assume, when the workmen constructing the railroad were blasting through the canyon. The pool was dangerous, what with its depth of sixteen feet, its current, which moved swiftly against the large rock, and the sucking action of the whirlpools below the rock. It was not a place for a novice or the inexperienced swimmer.
One warm summer afternoon when I was about twelve or thirteen, I took a large, inflated inner tube from a tractor tire, slung it over my shoulder, and walked barefoot up the railroad track which followed the course of the river. I entered the water about a mile above the swimming hole, sat comfortably in the tube, and enjoyed a leisurely float down the river. The river held no fear for me, for I knew its secrets.
That day the Greek-speaking people in Utah held a reunion at Vivian Park in Provo Canyon, as they did every year. Native food, games, and dances were the order of the day. But some left the party to try swimming in the river. When they arrived at the swimming hole, it was deserted, for afternoon shadows were beginning to envelop it.
As my inflated tube bobbed up and down, I was about to enter the swiftest portion of the river just at the head of the swimming hole when I heard frantic cries, “Save her! Save her!” A young lady swimmer, accustomed to the still waters of a gymnasium swimming pool, had fallen from the rock into the treacherous whirlpools. None of the party could swim to save her. Suddenly I appeared on the potentially tragic scene. I saw the top of her head disappearing under the water for the third time, there to descend to a watery grave. I stretched forth my hand, grasped her hair, and lifted her over the side of the tube and into my arms. At the pool’s lower end, the water was slower as I paddled the tube, with my precious cargo, to her waiting relatives and friends. They threw their arms around the water-soaked girl and kissed her, crying, “Thank God! Thank God you are safe!” Then they hugged and kissed me. I was embarrassed and quickly returned to the tube and continued my float down to the Vivian Park bridge. The water was frigid, but I was not cold, for I was filled with a warm feeling. I realized that I had participated in the saving of a life. Heavenly Father had heard the cries, “Save her! Save her,” and permitted me, a deacon, to float by at precisely the time I was needed. That day I learned that the sweetest feeling in mortality is to realize that God, our Heavenly Father, knows each one of us and generously permits us to see and to share His divine power to save.

When the current edition of the LDS hymnbook was printed, the author of “There Is Beauty All Around” was unknown—neither composer nor author is listed. President David O. McKay, a great admirer of this hymn, asked J. Spencer Cornwall, who was then a member of the Church Music Committee, to find the name of its author.
Soon afterwards while Brother Cornwall was traveling on assignment to Montana, he heard on the car radio a male chorus singing “There Is Beauty All Around.” Reaching his destination he called the station to ask the name of the author and was referred to a station in New Jersey where the program had originated. He wrote that station and was promptly sent a pamphlet stating that John Hugh McNaughton was both the author and composer of “There Is Beauty All Around.”
This information was conveyed to President McKay who remarked that he was sorry it had not been written by a member of the Church but that he was very pleased to know, however, that those lovely words had been written by a Scotsman. (Personal reminiscence of J. Spencer Cornwall.)
SONG: “There Is Beauty All Around.” (Hymns, p. 169; male chorus and tenor solo.)

I was thrilled when I passed the driving test and at long last was permitted to drive the family station wagon. My parents gave me a set of keys, which I proudly attached to my keychain, vowing to honor their trust in me. But one evening, while my parents were away, a heavy rainfall and a weak moment tested my good intentions.
My parents left my brothers and me for a few hours while they ran some errands. It started raining, and soon we saw large puddles outside of the house. We lived in an area surrounded by rich farmland, and whenever the ground was soaked by a good rain, fat earthworms (we called them night crawlers) would pop to the surface, almost like magic. When the rain cleared, we could see hundreds of plump night crawlers slithering along the slick mud around our garden and along the walkways.
My brother Bobby wasn’t old enough to drive yet, but he approached me with an idea for earning some money from the worms. He’d heard about a place across town that purchased night crawlers for fishing bait. He figured we could collect hundreds of night crawlers from the wet ground, drive to the bait store, sell them, and then be back before our parents returned. I didn’t know much about fishing or selling bait, but I knew I shouldn’t drive the car without permission. I rationalized that I knew how to drive safely and we wouldn’t be gone very long. But first, of course, we had to collect the worms.
It was still damp outside when we gathered flashlights and a few empty cans and began digging through the soft mud in search of the slithery creatures. The plan didn’t quite hold the attraction for me that it did for my brother, but I got past my squeamishness and grabbed my share of squirmy night crawlers. We spent some time picking worms from the mud and then realized that we needed to hurry across town to the bait shop. I didn’t know where it was, but my brother assured me he knew how to get there.
I followed his directions, and soon we found ourselves driving through dark and unfamiliar streets. We were miles from our home and safety. My brother was determined to sell the worms, but all I wanted was to get back home as fast as possible. Just as I was ready to turn the car around, we saw a dimly lit shed ahead of us, with people standing in line holding jars and buckets. I reluctantly agreed to stop at the shed just long enough to sell the night crawlers. However, the line moved very slowly, and more time passed before my brother finally made it to the counter where they weighed the worms and paid us for them. We knew we had been gone far longer than we planned.
When we pulled into the driveway, our parents were already home. My heart sank; I knew I would be in a lot of trouble for taking the car without permission. My stomach was tight as I remembered the numerous opportunities I’d had that evening to make better choices. We held our heads low as we entered by the back door, hoping to avoid attention. No such luck. But we were unprepared for the reaction.
Our parents sat at the kitchen table, their faces stricken with fear and grief. Tears poured down our mother’s face; our father’s eyes were red, and he was clearly distraught. Rather than greeting us with anger, they both cried out in relief that we were alive and safe. Then they asked where we had been.
I felt very foolish and childish as I offered my stammering answer: “Um … we were out selling night crawlers.” Their grief and emotion cut me to the soul. I would never knowingly or intentionally have caused my parents such hurt, but I knew I had done exactly that. I was acutely aware that I had not lived up to the trust and responsibility they’d placed in me, nor had I lived up to my own goals.
The lessons I learned that night were far reaching. I had given my parents my word, and I didn’t keep it. When we make a covenant with Heavenly Father, we have a responsibility to keep it. Just as my parents were thankful to see us come home, Heavenly Father welcomes us with love when we return to Him.
Eventually the trip my brother and I made to the bait store became part of our family folklore. For years it served as a gentle reminder that we always need to be on the right path. Otherwise, one of our parents was sure to ask, “Were you out selling night crawlers?”

A young man returning from his mission shared his experience with faith. He acknowledged it as a miracle in his life. He said, “I was the first of six children born to my parents. My mother and father taught me when I was young the principles of the gospel. Faith was taught through the example of both my mother and father. When I was only 10 years old, my father, this great example of trusting the Lord, was killed in an accident. I was young and had many feelings to deal with that were new to me.” This young man said he realized that he had two choices available to him—“I could have become bitter towards the Lord and lost all that I now have, or I could trust the Lord. Because of the example of my parents, trust was the path I chose. Choosing faith has made all of the difference.”

We sustain Gordon B. Hinckley as the President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and as the prophet, seer, and revelator of the Church in our time. A letter which I received from a proud father tells of an experience with his then five-year-old son and of the boy’s love for the President of the Church and desire to follow his example.
The father wrote: “When Christopher was five years old, he would get ready for church on Sundays mostly by himself. On one particular Sunday, he decided that he wanted to wear a suit and tie, which to that point he had never done. He scoured the closet on his own for a hand-me-down tie and produced a rather used clip-on one that he didn’t need to create a knot for. He attached the tie to his white shirt, then capped it off with the small navy jacket that had hung for years in his closet.
“On his own, he went into the bathroom and painstakingly combed his blond hair to perfection. About that time, I came into the bathroom to finish getting ready myself. I found Christopher beaming at himself in the mirror. Without taking his eyes off his reflection, he proclaimed proudly, ‘Look, Papa—Christopher B. Hinckley!’”
A boy had been watching a prophet of the Lord.

Young men and young women from the Africa West Area celebrated the 180th anniversary of the coming forth of the Book of Mormon last August. The event was held simultaneously in 20 venues across Africa and included over 11,000 youth from 27 stakes and 32 districts from the seven nations of the Africa West Area: Nigeria, Benin, Togo, Ghana, Ivory Coast, Liberia, and Sierra Leone. It was performed for an audience of more than 30,000. Hundreds of yards of cloth were cut, labeled, and packaged for delivery to outlying stakes and districts. Provided with basic patterns, drawings, and construction ideas, each area created the scenery, costuming, and special effects to stage reenactments of Book of Mormon scenes. Casts ranged in size from 40 to 1,700 participants.
Many found themselves feeling a kinship with the stories they portrayed on stage. Samuel Bagbansoro, 14, of the Abeokuta Nigeria District said, “I acted as one of the guards to the wicked King Noah. The scene with the prophet Abinadi made a great impression on my heart. I know now that whoever is filled with the Spirit of God cannot be subdued by men.”
As practices progressed and the final performances were held, young men and young women found themselves internalizing their respective roles. “Playing the part of Sariah made me seriously ponder on my role when I will be a mother and how I will be able to have the strength,” Chidinma Ijeomah said.
Standing atop the tower erected for the Accra production, Calvin Sowah of the Ghana Accra Adenta Stake, took on the role of King Benjamin. During a television news interview following the production, Calvin shared his perspective on the need for humble leadership in government based upon principles of righteousness. He said, “I realize that most leaders in the world today are proud. I believe that if, as King Benjamin, we will make Jesus Christ the cornerstone of our leadership, we will be good leaders.”

The importance of not mistreating others is highlighted in an anecdote about Hillel the Elder, a Jewish scholar who lived in the first century before Christ. One of Hillel’s students was exasperated by the complexity of the Torah—the five books of Moses with their 613 commandments and associated rabbinic writings. The student challenged Hillel to explain the Torah using only the time that Hillel could stand on one foot. Hillel may not have had great balance but accepted the challenge. He quoted from Leviticus, saying, “Thou shalt not avenge, nor bear any grudge against the children of thy people, but thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.” Hillel then concluded: “That which is hateful unto you, do not do to your neighbor. This is the whole of the Torah; the rest is commentary. Go forth and study.”

The other young man was a missionary. As mission president of the Uruguay-Paraguay Mission I received a letter from a nonmember, writing me from Asunción, Paraguay. In essence this is what he wrote:
“I had been in the President Strossner Airport in Asunción, Paraguay, waiting for a flight, when a young North American missionary approached me.
“I learned quickly that the missionary was going home, having finished his mission. In fact, they were in the process of calling the young missionary’s flight. This missionary took the time, in spite of the fact that he was leaving the country, to sit by me for a moment, share his testimony, and leave me the tract ‘The Word of Wisdom.’ It puzzled me as to why he would do that when he was going home and had already completed his mission. He had no reason to approach me, but he carried the Spirit with him, and I am sure that I felt it as well.
“I have since read the tract ‘The Word of Wisdom’ and feel that the words from Joseph Smith contained therein are true. I particularly want you to know what a great missionary you have, as I felt the Spirit of the Lord through him. Could you please send representatives of your Church to teach me the gospel so that I might become a member of the Mormon church?”
I have often wondered how that missionary will feel in the next life, if not in this world, when he finally comes to know that man. The man may say, “Elder so-and-so, don’t you know me?” And the elder will say, “No, I don’t.” “Look again, elder, don’t you remember?” The elder will probably say, “No, have I met you before?”
Then the man will say, “Don’t you remember the events in the airport in Asunción, Paraguay, in May of 1977? I am the one to whom you bore testimony. You were responsible for me, and because of you, I was baptized.” And then he will turn and with a motion say, “And so was she, my wife, and these, my five children, and their children and their children’s children. In fact, all of these hundreds, elder, came into the Church because of you. God bless you for having not been afraid and for having obeyed the counsel the Lord gave when he said, ‘But with some I am not well pleased, for they will not open their mouths, but they hide the talent which I have given unto them, because of the fear of man. Wo unto such, for mine anger is kindled against them’ (D&C 60:2).” This young elder one day will have great joy as he realizes that what he thought was of little value or just “seed planting” bore a plentiful harvest.

As the organist played prelude music, Keeley looked around the chapel. She smiled when she saw some of her friends she had left behind when her family moved to a small town in eastern Colorado.
Her family had returned to Loveland, Colorado, for the blessing of her aunt and uncle’s baby girl. All of her dad’s family had come for the special event.
She liked her family’s new home, but she was happy to be back in Loveland, where she had lived most of her life and had so many relatives and friends.
After the opening song and prayer and announcements, the bishop announced that there would be a blessing of a baby.
Keeley watched as her dad, uncle, grandpa, and other family members gathered to bless baby Kaitlyn.
Uncle Mark gave his daughter a name and a blessing. She knew that the men who stood in the circle held the priesthood. Keeley’s dad had explained how important the priesthood was when he had baptized her and confirmed her a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints a year ago. In another year, her oldest brother, Samuel, would receive the Aaronic Priesthood and be ordained a deacon.
Keeley felt tears sting her eyes as she heard Uncle Mark’s voice quiver during the middle of the blessing. She reached up to brush them away.
When the blessing was over, Uncle Mark held up Kaitlyn so that the congregation could see her.
After sacrament meeting, Keeley and her brothers went to Primary. The chorister invited them to choose their favorite songs for the children to sing.
Keeley chose “I’m Trying to Be like Jesus.”* The Primary children had sung it for the Primary sacrament meeting program a year ago, and it had remained one of her favorite songs.
Following opening exercises and sharing time, she went to class. When class let out, Keeley said good-bye to her friends. Once again, tears gathered in her eyes.
Everyone in the family went to Uncle Mark and Aunt Celeste’s home after church. Keeley took a turn holding the new baby. All too soon, it was time to leave.
“It was like going home,” Keeley said during the drive. “All of our family and friends were there and were glad to see us.”
“That’s how it is in heaven,” Dad said. “Family members and friends who are already there are happy to see those they left behind on earth.”
“Like when Grandpa Munson died?” Keeley asked. Her mother’s dad had died before Keeley was born. She had heard Mom talk about Grandpa and what a great man he was.
“Exactly like that,” Mom said. “We were sad that Grandpa had to leave us, but we knew there were lots of people in heaven waiting for him.” She took Keeley’s hand and squeezed it. “I know you were glad to see your old friends, and they were glad to see you. We’ll see them again. In the meantime, you have friends at our new home who will be happy that you’re back.”
“Just like in heaven,” Keeley said. She liked the comparison.
“Just like in heaven,” Mom agreed.
After family prayer that night, Keeley kissed her parents good night. She thought of her friends back in Loveland and her friends here at home, then she imagined how many more friends and family members must be waiting to see her again in heaven. A sweet warmth settled over her like a comfortable blanket as she got ready for bed.

While serving as an assistant chaplain in the Maricopa County Jail system in Arizona, USA, I would visit and share a scripture and prayer with detainees who requested a Latter-day Saint chaplain. On one occasion a young woman made such a request.
I went to her area of the jail, which was behind several locked doors. The reception area had two cafeteria-style tables with a bench on each side and one desk with a guard. I gave the guard the request slip, slid onto one of the benches, and waited for the young woman.
I arose as she entered the reception area, greeted her, and suggested we sit at the table. She looked sad and unkempt and was on the verge of tears. As she discussed her situation, I considered what scripture I would share. I listened carefully to her concerns, and as she disclosed the difficulties she had had with various compulsive behaviors and poor choices, I thought of the perfect scripture to help her: Mosiah 3:19.
I opened the Book of Mormon to Mosiah 3:19, pushed it toward her, and asked her to read. She seemed a little disgruntled at first and began reading in a fast, singsong voice that seemed to express annoyance at being asked to read a scripture. As she finished the first phrase, “For the natural man is an enemy to God,” I interrupted to explain the meaning of “natural man.” When she understood the reference, she continued to read. Her voice gradually changed tone, and she slowed down as the words began to make sense to her.
When she started to read the list of childlike attributes of “a saint,” she slowed down even more. I could tell she was absorbing the meaning of each attribute listed in the verse. When she read “submissive, meek, humble, patient,” I began to feel the Spirit all around us. As she read the words “full of love, willing to submit,” I witnessed a change in her. Her face brightened and her attitude, tone of voice, and general manner seemed affected by the Spirit. I could see hope as she was taught by the Spirit what these words meant to her and how she should make the changes described in the scripture.
I said a prayer and then shook the young woman’s hand warmly. I left the jail on a spiritual high. I had never before seen such an immediate, powerful, magnificent effect from the scriptures. I knew Mosiah 3:19 because I have frequently encountered it while reading the scriptures, but never before had I understood the depth of the impact it could have on someone.

Kirkland Ward, Seattle East Stake youth were inspired to “learn more” about the gospel when two full-time missionaries substituted in teaching Sunday School. A series of missionary firesides were started with the young people bringing their nonmember friends to hear the missionary lessons. The crowds grew, testimonies were strengthened, and the Church has gained many new converts. “I was taught by the youth and converted by the spirit,” said Mary Trimble, a new member, “and it’s great that this ward is this enthusiastic about their religion.” Sunny Schubert said, “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if every ward would spread the truth this way also? We youth loved it”

Elder M. Russell Ballard of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles told about a 17-year-old girl who listened to and obeyed the counsel of President Gordon B. Hinckley. Elder Ballard said: “I know a 17-year-old who, just prior to the prophet’s talk, had pierced her ears a second time. She came home from the fireside, took off the second set of earrings, and simply said to her parents, ‘If President Hinckley says we should only wear one set of earrings, that’s good enough for me.’

“Wearing two pairs of earrings may or may not have eternal consequences for this young woman, but her willingness to obey the prophet will.”

And then Elder Ballard promised, “If you will listen to the living prophet and the apostles and heed our counsel, you will not go astray.” (Ensign, May 2001, 66.)

Some years ago a special child was born to a young mother. This child was born without eyes. It was normal in all other respects except there was nothing to resemble eyes or sockets above the nose. This mother might in bitterness have said, “Why did this have to happen to my child?” or “Why did this have to happen to me?” Instead she said, “The Lord must really love us and have confidence in us. We really must be favored to have been given this child. To think the Lord picked our home, knowing how much special love and care this child would need, is very humbling and comforting. We are grateful for this special child and for the blessings it will bring to our home.”

During school recess I saw something shiny lying in the gravel and stopped to see what it was. It was a Kennedy half-dollar! I was so excited! I thought of keeping it, but instead I took it to the teacher on duty. She told me to take it to the office, so I gave the coin to our school secretary. She said, “Wow, Matthew! Thanks for being so honest!” That made me feel really good! She also said that if no one claimed the coin, I could have it back.
I didn’t hear anything else about it until the end of the year. During the last week of school I found out that I had earned a good citizenship award and a prize for turning in the coin. I felt good inside because I had been honest. I also enjoyed the prize, which was a candy bar!

A pioneer trek can provide teens with a small sense of what their ancestors went through to help build what they now enjoy, a chance to tackle a difficult task, and an opportunity for bonding with each other. For youth in Northern California, it was a time to think about those who came before.
Each participant who took part in the three-day, 30-mile trek chose and researched an ancestor, a departed relative, an LDS pioneer, or someone else associated with the pioneers. They wrote the person’s name on a circlet of leather and wore it around their necks to keep that person in mind as they struggled over the same rugged terrain that the LDS pioneers faced in the Sierra Nevada Mountains on the Mormon Trail.
“We are traveling on the shoulders of the people who came before us,” said Stake President Alan Fisher as the group met before starting out. “Be strong. Lead the charge against immorality. You are called to be the pioneers to lead, to guide, preparatory to the coming of the Savior.”
The participants divided into families of approximately 10 people, with wards being mixed.
Starting out in high spirits, the youth soon began to rely on each other. The first day was a 16-mile, mostly uphill, grueling hike that took 11 hours. Brooke A., 18, says, “The first day was so difficult. The other two days were so emotional and spiritual because our bodies were so weak. We had to rely on something bigger than us.”
Jared M., 14, says he walked for his ancestor, Paul Maughan. “He was a little kid who fell out of the wagon and was trampled by the wagon behind. I’m walking for him. I knew this was going to be really hard, and it was. But I was kind of excited.”
Some youth walked for ancestors who were pioneers in different parts of the world. Alex B., 17, is descended from Germans who were transplanted to Russia and then immigrated to the United States. Alex’s great-great-grandfather was one of those pioneers.
Elvis H., 16, did not have ancestors who were LDS pioneers. He chose to walk for Norton Hunter, who was important to the pioneers because he made handcarts that they pulled and pushed across hundreds of miles.
Elvis started out with enthusiasm. After the difficult first day, he was excited to reach camp, but he couldn’t sleep because he was in pain. The next day, he was taken to the hospital, where he was operated on for appendicitis. “In my situation, if we were back in pioneer days, I probably would have been one of those graves on the way.”
Alexis A., 17, says the trek was a lot harder than she expected. “I walked for my Grandpa Brodowski. He actually passed away last December. He was a pioneer in his family because he converted and was the only member in his family. In the end, everything turned out OK, and he actually started a great generation of LDS members.”
Though the youth faced many difficulties, the pioneers tackled many more. Brooke says, “We can go on hikes with our family, but to physically have to also pull a couple-hundred-pound handcart is totally different. We didn’t have to carry babies or take care of toddlers. They didn’t get to rest like we did when we got to camp. It’s just a glimpse of what their lives were. To just have this experience is one that we’ll never forget.”
Marilyn M., 15, testified to the group at the very end of the trek: “Most of you know that I really did not want to come on the trek, but I learned after coming that you will always be able to have strength. It may come through other people, but the Lord is going to give it to you. It’s just like our scripture for the year, ‘Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest’ (Joshua 1:9). That’s so powerful. It’s completely assuring that we can have the Lord with us wherever we go.”

Some years ago, the mission in Tonga was presided over by Elder John H. Groberg, long before there was a temple in that land. On one occasion he went down to the docks to welcome home the forty members of the Church who had just returned from the New Zealand Temple. They had sacrificed all they had to go to the temple. For years they had lived in modest circumstances to save the money, that they might go and receive their own endowments and their sealing blessings. As they returned, they expected President Groberg to greet them with enthusiasm and to commend them for their journey. He later said to me, “I didn’t feel that impression; rather, I felt to chastise them a little.” As they landed and were all smiles, they said, “What do you think of our accomplishments, President Groberg?”

He responded, “I think they are many. You have journeyed long and have endured much, and you have contributed greatly to the happiness of those for whom you officiated. But how many were Tongan names? How many were your ancestors ?”

As he spoke to them so beautifully and so fluently in Tongan, the people admitted that other than their own endowments and maybe one or two family names, the ordinance work which they had performed in the New Zealand Temple was the same ordinance work which any temple recommend holder could perform in the Salt Lake Temple, or in the Logan Temple, or in any temple. A vision of eternity came to their view as President Groberg spoke to them for a full hour about their responsibility to their own kindred dead.

This experience prompted an active interest in family history research in the Tongan islands. They organized fine family history committees and have since performed the work for countless of their own ancestors.

Just three months after James Boyd Martino joined the Church in 1968, a friend invited him to meet with a minister of another faith. The minister bombarded him with questions, only a few of which he could answer.
Although the experience shook him, 17-year-old James didn’t let the minister deter him—or his commitment to the Church. Rather, he says, “my testimony then was like a prescription medicine that has to be shaken to be effective. The experience motivated me to study the gospel and grow in my faith.”
Elder Martino, recently called as a member of the Second Quorum of the Seventy, says that studying the gospel has blessed him ever since that time.