Gospel Story Finder

The final blessing of the sealing is one that we never see in this life. On a recent fast Sunday, a sister named Sharon told of her little son, Paul. Paul had drowned in an irrigation ditch near their home, and Sharon told of how she and her husband, Max, had felt a sinking hopelessness almost to the point of despair. They had been childless for years; Paul had come only after several miscarriages and much prayer. From the beginning they felt his love and intelligence and his strong obedient personality. Paul’s presence in their family had been much sought; his death brought great suffering.

Three weeks after the tragedy, Sharon stood before her ward telling how she had responded to this test. Her eyes were dry, but those close to her knew that she was crying inside.

“Brothers and sisters, I want to thank you all for the help and support you have given us in these past few weeks. It has been very difficult—” she paused and looked down at the pulpit. When she began again her voice caught and she had to struggle to speak clearly. “But I want you to know that I know more than ever before that our Father in heaven loves me. It’s very special to us to know that little Paul has already attained the goal that Max and I have been working for all our lives. I’m just comforted to know that we have been sealed as a family by the holy priesthood. If we hadn’t been, all this would have been impossible to bear. But instead I know that if we’re worthy, we’ll be together again.”

Elder Busche’s search for the source of this power began in the Catholic hospital where he lay recovering for five months. He studied the crucifix on the wall of his hospital room. In pursuit of his commitment to find the author of his experience, he read the Bible from the first page of Genesis to the last page of Revelation, only stopping to eat and sleep. This brought him a powerful awareness of the truthfulness of the Bible and a testimony of the Lord Jesus Christ.
He also watched the nun who was the head nurse in his hospital ward. “She was probably the most righteous person I had ever met,” he recalls. “She would do the dirtiest, most difficult work with singing in her eyes—sixteen hours a day, seven days a week. She was so loving and joyful that it seemed impossible not to be healed in her presence.”
One day he asked her whether the Catholic church was the church of Jesus Christ. “She seemed to fight within herself for a very long time,” he recalls. “Finally, she replied in a peaceful, dignified voice, ‘No. You are looking for the church of the living Christ, not a church of dead traditions.’”
Upon his release from the hospital, Enzio immediately sought out his Lutheran minister, recounted his conversion, and declared his desire to follow Christ. But after a period of attending every possible meeting—and finding some satisfaction in the dignity and ceremony of the services—Enzio was troubled by doctrines and practices he could not understand. Why, for example, did infants need to be baptized? And why had ministers blessed the weapons of the war? The ministers and presbyters of the church could give him no sound doctrine—just conflicting opinions.
One evening Enzio and Jutta knelt in despair to tell the Lord of their situation. By now Enzio could form his own prayers, “I told the Lord we wanted to find his church,” Elder Busche recalls. “I knew that the earlier followers of Christ had been persecuted, so I told the Lord that it didn’t matter if his was an obscure church, even a ridiculed church.” After that prayer, the overwhelming peace Enzio had felt in the hospital returned.
Several weeks later, two Latter-day Saint missionaries stood on the Busches’ doorstep. At first, Enzio Busche was skeptical of their “strange” message, but he was always impressed with their sincerity and righteousness. His two years of investigation were accompanied by dreams and spiritual experiences that had the same sacred quality and authority that he had felt in the hospital. At last, he had to admit that the Spirit truly was in the message of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, although he still feared breaking with his social life and the traditions of his family.
When he was finally ready for baptism, he asked his wife to investigate the gospel. Jutta Busche had long before felt the Spirit in the message of the missionaries, though she had not been involved in the sometimes long discussions. After just three evenings of hearing them teach her the gospel principles—to her husband’s astonishment—she too had a testimony. Both were baptized on 19 January 1958 in a public swimming pool in Dortmund.
Their first tiny branch, which met in an old school building in the dirtiest area of Dortmund, was made up mostly of elderly people whose children had gone to America. “The Lord was no stranger to poverty and humble circumstances,” says Elder Busche, “so I felt in good company there.” His first calling was as branch secretary. Later he served as elders quorum president and a teacher in both the MIA and the Sunday School.
By this time, Enzio Busche was a respected and influential man in his native city and country. In 1955 he had become co-owner with his father of Busche Printing Company, when it was still relatively small. By the time he became chief executive officer in 1963, it was well on its way to becoming one of the largest offset printing and publishing companies in West Germany, with a number of subsidiaries and partnerships.
Brother Busche had felt early in his business life that he could not successfully manage a company in such a competitive market without using the creativity and involvement of every person in the organization. His experience with Church leadership had shown him an alternative to the authoritarian model of traditional management. After many prayers he instituted a form of participatory management, a radical shift from the usual style. He made a rule that everyone involved must agree before any major decision was made. The resulting maturity of his employees helped his company through difficult times and changes to become one of the most dynamic and successful in its field.
Whether as president of an elders quorum or a branch, or in any other of his many callings, Enzio Busche has always felt grateful to be allowed to serve the Lord. “When we are converted, we do the Lord’s work with great joy in our hearts, instead of seeing it as a burden,” he explains. “If we are home teaching with no joy, with no gratitude that He allows us to do something to build His kingdom, we had better repent. Being allowed to serve is a privilege.”
President Stephen C. Richards, whom Brother Busche served as a counselor in the Central German Mission, remembers that his counselor helped secure the plot of ground for the Dortmund chapel at a time when the Church faced community opposition in buying land. Enzio Busche also helped countless Church members secure their own testimonies. The Busche home, frequently the site of cottage meetings, was always open to the missionaries, and the Busches supported several young men on missions. “There is a man whom the Lord loves,” says President Richards fondly. “He will do anything the Lord asks, with never a question.”
Enzio Busche’s original commitment to go to the ends of the earth in pursuit of truth met its test in 1977, while President Spencer W. Kimball was touring Poland and East Germany. Then a regional representative to the Quorum of the Twelve, Brother Busche served as translator for President Kimball at a meeting in Berlin, then met afterwards with Church leaders for refreshments in the Relief Society room. D. Arthur Haycock, the president’s personal secretary, asked Brother Busche to take an empty chair next to President Kimball. Because an educated German would never seek the company of a dignitary unless invited by that dignitary, Brother Busche ignored the suggestion. When Brother Busche declined a second time, Brother Haycock asked him more pointedly if he would please be so kind as to take the vacant seat. After exchanging greetings, President Kimball invited Brother Busche to join him in another room, where he extended the call to serve as a member of the First Quorum of the Seventy.
Elder Busche’s first assignment as a General Authority was to serve as president of the Germany Munich Mission. Then, in 1980, he and his family (except for oldest son Markus, engaged to be married and living in Germany) were called to move to Utah.
Looking back, Elder Busche realizes that he has been asked to do all that he told the Lord he would be willing to do as he lay in that hospital bed. He was asked to leave his family, his language, his inherited culture, and his company—all that he had built, all that was familiar to him. He smiles. “I was even asked to go to the ends of the earth, if you consider northern Alaska to be the ends of the earth.” One of his current assignments is counselor in the North American Northwest Area Presidency, an area that includes the North Pole.
Elder Busche explains how he has overcome his fear of the challenging assignments he has accepted during his years in the Church. “The adversary’s greatest power is to give us fear, to tell us that what the Lord requires will be too uncomfortable, too impossible, to do. But as we obey, the Lord will fill us with love and inexpressible joy. Until we subdue ourselves to the Lord, we can only experience frustration and pain. When we do subdue ourselves to his will, we are filled with peace and dignity in all circumstances, no matter how challenging. This, to me, is the greatest victory we can achieve.”
Those who know him best—his wife and four children—agree that one of Enzio Busche’s most extraordinary achievements is his sensitivity as a husband and father. “What the missionaries brought us,” says Sister Busche, “has totally changed our lives. It has really been a blessing for us, for our marriage and our family.”
Sister Busche says that her husband has an unusual ability to respond to people, especially to his children. “The most important thing is that he has a good feeling for people—that he can love them and understand them and help them.” She tells of a time when one son faced the difficult choice of marriage or a mission. The Busches were in the mission home in Munich at the time, and their son and his girlfriend came to visit them. Elder Busche told his son, “We love you, and you are totally free. If you feel you should marry, we will still love you. But before you decide, go in your room and ask Heavenly Father.” The son came from his room with tears in his eyes and the commitment that he would go on a mission.
Elder Busche explains that he and his wife had seen that the traditional way of raising children in Germany caused a tremendous rift between generations. “We did not want to have children who mocked their parents, who obeyed just because their parents fed them. We did not want to force our children to go to church and have them rebel against us.”
Elder Busche feels it was the Spirit that taught them to regard their children, from their earliest years, as equals. Even when the children were three or four years old, the Busches tried to respect their opinions. “We were surprised and touched by how much we could learn from them,” says Elder Busche. “When children are raised in an unintimidating environment, they are so pure and innocent, so loving and sensitive that it is embarrassing to adults.”
Daughter Maja (Mrs. Paul Wensel) remembers that her father’s approach to discipline was always to reason with her, never to threaten. He would often say, “Jesus would do something different.”
“Once when I broke a window, he came out and calmly said, ‘You’ve done something wrong, and you need to do something so that you can understand that you can’t do this.’ Then he asked what kind of penalty I thought would be fair. As a result, I never felt rebellious.” In fact, the Busches found that the children would usually assign themselves stricter penalties than their parents would have.
The youngest son, Daniel, who returned last year from a mission in Argentina, describes his father as a loving teacher. “One night we had won a baseball game, and I didn’t get home until two in the morning. As I drove up and saw Dad waiting for me outside, I was really scared. I was thinking up all kinds of excuses. But instead of accusing me, he said, ‘I’m glad you’re home. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’ I knew I had done wrong, but I also knew that he was concerned about me and wanted to help me.”
The children felt a good atmosphere in the home partly because of their parents’ love for classical music. Sister Busche comes from a family of musicians and loves the music of Bach and Rachmaninoff. Elder and Sister Busche always felt that beautiful music would foster a good spirit in their home. Maja says this helped her keep her mind clean and made the excesses of the world a clear contrast.
Matthias (married to Patricia Clay) recalls his father as a great teacher—always prepared with a lesson for family home evening—but also as a great companion. Elder Busche is an active man whose interests include skiing, running, hiking, and sailing. “Some of the experiences we had sailing together on the Baltic Sea—critical moments when we were in danger—brought us really close. Those are times I’ll never forget,” says Matthias. Some of his favorite times have been the relaxed, playful moments, but also the long, thoughtful talks while driving to and from church meetings.
He is a family man, a businessman, and a church leader. But the true vocation of Elder F. Enzio Busche has been a tireless search for the truth. In the gospel of Jesus Christ he has found the answers to his fundamental questions, but also a challenge to devote his life to the commitments he has made. “Many members of the Church are starving spiritually. We must feed the spiritual part of our being by learning to distinguish and search for the Spirit in all matters of our daily lives. Life is not meant to be easy, but when we are filled with the Spirit that Heavenly Father gives us when we live according to our covenants, we will be full of joy no matter what happens. We will have happy marriages, good relationships between parents and children, and an ability to live with peace and dignity.”
For Elder F. Enzio Busche, the end of the search has become an eternal beginning.

Peter, a young priest, wrote of an experience that taught him that priesthood power is very real. A young convert in his ward in Ontario, Canada, was sustained as a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood, and Peter was asked to be the “voice” in the ordination. Peter wrote, “I had never laid my hands on anybody’s head before, and I felt so inadequate. But then the Spirit reassured me that it would be fine for me to do it. …

“The young man to be ordained sat down in the chair, and I stood directly behind him. [Our Young Men president] guided me through the ordinance prayer and I repeated every word he said. After we had finished the ordination and said, ‘… and we wish to pronounce a blessing on your head at this time …’ [the Young Men president] looked at me and indicated that I was on my own.

“At that point, the priesthood entirely changed its meaning for me. It was no longer just a title, but the actual authority to act in God’s name, and I was giving that authority to someone else. I paused and waited for the Spirit to whisper to me what I was to say. It is difficult for me to describe the feelings I had that day during the blessing, but I can say that I now have a stronger testimony that the power of the priesthood is real.”

Imagine this scenario: Your friend hasn’t been herself lately. Usually she’s upbeat and fun, but now she doesn’t want to do things that she used to have fun doing. You were surprised when she decided to stay home rather than go to a dance last Saturday. Every time you see her now she seems sad, withdrawn, and irritable. And this has been going on for a while.
As you think about it, you realize your friend was always a good student, but last week she didn’t turn in her history paper for the third time in a row. It’s like she’s lost her motivation. She says she feels tired all the time but can’t fall asleep at night and mentions how she always feels sad but doesn’t know why. She’s been this way for a while, and you’re worried she might be depressed.

The wood had broiled in the sun for so many years that it was now the color of faded cardboard. Wind and rain had warped and cracked its weary surface.

Slap! A brush drenched the crevice where the old board joined the fence post. Slosh! A roller dipped in its tray, then spread a thick layer of rust-red latex over the tired timber, which drank its fill and noticed that its neighbors, too, were being refreshed by some benevolent teenagers. The old corral would never look the same!

Across the road, weeds and grass, fed by 80-degree spring water, had clogged irrigation channels. Now young men and women toiled side by side, knee and elbow-deep in moss and slime. As they freed paths for water to make its way to the pastures, they smiled and laughed and joked and cheered each other on. At the same time, their counterparts in another field were clearing away piles of dead palm fronds trimmed by previous work crews, piling trucks high with debris.

It was not a typical youth conference.

True enough, when the young people from three of Las Vegas’ ten stakes had gathered for the conference’s opening session the night before, they had enjoyed a musical fireside, including an impromptu chorus starring the presidents of the Las Vegas, Las Vegas South, and Las Vegas Nevada Redrock stakes.

And it was also true that following the fireside there was a dance where young men and young women mingled and made new friends. And there were still a testimony meeting, meetings with featured speakers, and a ranch-style barbecue dinner to come. There would even be a game session featuring horseshoes, earth ball competition, a greased pig chase, an obstacle course, and a tug-of-war.

But the most impressive event was the all-day Saturday cleanup at the Warm Springs welfare ranch and farm, 60 miles northeast of town.

Following an early-morning breakfast at one of the stake centers, a dozen work crews (each identified by a specific T-shirt color) boarded a dozen buses (each labeled with a sign of the same color) and were conveyed across the sage-speckled desert toward the welfare property.

In transit, crew members, directed by captains of 10 and captains of 40 (to match bus capacity), were required to interview each other and fill out forms listing favorite foods, date of birth, hobbies, Church callings, and other get-acquainted facts:

“We purposely mixed people from different stakes so they would be able to make friends with new people,” explained Gary Tonks, 17, captain of the light blue bus. “We wanted them to work together at the farm, but we thought that would be easier if they knew each other first.”

The buses left the freeway and tooled along a lesser road, adrift in the barren mounds of an ochre, gray, and tan moonscape, dry enough to give a lizard thirst. Then, over one last rise, a patch of green! Green! Palm trees danced a wind-inspired hula, while streams, glinting like diamonds in the sun, encircled plants and fields in belts of silver.

Fortunately for the work crews, this was not some sand-weary traveler’s illusion, no mirage born of too much sun. Warm Springs, Nevada, is an oasis in every sense of the word. Thermal water gushes up here from an underground source, blessing the parched earth with life. A billboard beckons tourists to visit a privately owned recreational water slide; environmentalists on field trips inspect the warm-water canals for a fish species indigenous to the area; and the skyscraping palms converge in cavernous groves that offer seclusion and shade in summer and shelter from the harsh winter wind.

The property, purchased about four years ago, may eventually be developed to include pomegranate groves, grape vines, cottonwood trees (for firewood), range cattle, a dairy, a pig farm, a turkey farm, a catfish pond, a swimming pool, grain fields, and silos for storage. It is also used from time to time for camping and Scouting activities, and so many of the youth conference participants had been here before.

Each crew was assigned to a work area, again according to T-shirt color, and within minutes, the farm was engulfed by workers shoveling, carrying, hoeing, sawing, raking, hacking, and stacking. Invading mesquite bushes were whacked off at the roots, cut up, and carted away. Barbed wire was restrung and tightened. The farm manager’s yard was weeded and manicured until it looked professionally landscaped.

“We already had the bus leaders come out to the farm,” explained Jacie Summers, 17, of the 51st Ward, South Stake. “There were three or four sessions when they were allowed to come and practice doing all the jobs so that they’d be qualified to supervise. Now they’re in charge of groups, but they know what to have them do.” Her job? “Today we’re cleaning pig pens,” she said, grinning.

“Usually we go to a youth conference and sit in classrooms during workshops,” said David Brown, 18, of the 28th Ward, Las Vegas Stake. “We always have some people sitting alone, eating alone, not feeling involved. We felt like this was a way for them to feel part of the conference, for us to be able to work with others, and for everyone at the end of the day to feel satisfied with what we got done.”

“I like to work, and working with friends makes it fun,” said Andrea Hildreath, 17, of the South Stake’s 47th Ward. And Heather Rodriguez, 15, of the Third Ward, Las Vegas Stake, added that “it’s not the thing I’d normally anticipate doing for fun, but it’s what you make it. If you come in with a good attitude and make it fun, it will be. The best part was meeting lots of new people.”

“We explained at a fireside what we planned to do at the conference,” Jacie said. “We told them we were going to work and work hard, but we explained how they could help and how much good it would do for the farm.”

Evidently the appeal was convincing. “This is the biggest turnout we’ve ever had for a youth conference,” Jacie said. And Gary, who served on the steering committee with her, noted that more than 500 attended an activity originally planned for 300. “At first we were afraid people would be turned off by the idea of working, but it turned out to be one of the best ideas ever.”

A quick look around the farm would have been enough to convince anyone he was right. There were so many willing volunteers, one of the biggest problems was finding enough tools to go around. Another problem was distributing oranges to everyone for a morning break. There were plenty of oranges, but everyone was so involved working there was only a minimal distribution crew!

The strenuous labor made the juicy sweetness of the fresh fruit even more appealing, and the workers relaxed momentarily, leaning on the fence posts, hillsides, and even sides of automobiles. They talked, as they often do with those from out of town, about what it’s like to live in Las Vegas.

“Most people think you live in a casino,” said Bruce Tingey, 17, of the 51st Ward, South Stake. “They don’t realize that this is actually a home town for some, that people, especially Mormons, really live here. But there are lots of Church members in Vegas.”

“It’s easy to find good examples,” said Suzann Melaerts, 16, of the 31st Ward, Las Vegas Stake. “But it’s easy to find bad ones, too. You have to be strong. I’m glad for the opportunity to share with those who want to know about the gospel.”

“I’ve never lived anywhere else,” Andrea added. “But I’ve been other places. I love it here because the Church is so strong.” Bruce’s sister, Christine, agreed. “We have more opportunities to share the gospel here because a lot of people know about the Church already. It’s an ideal situation—plenty of chances to do missionary work, and yet there are enough members that you don’t feel like you’re all by yourself.”

Heather nodded her head. “About 50 percent of my friends are members of the Church. About 50 percent aren’t. I have an obligation to share the gospel. I want others to have the same happiness I do.”

Heather told of a friend who’s investigating the Church. “We talk a lot, almost every day,” Heather said. And others mentioned a young lady who was baptized shortly after last year’s youth conference. Looking around, they pointed out half a dozen nonmembers mixed in with the crowd around them.

“There were six or seven new members baptized last year in my high school,” Andrea said. “Three of them are on missions now.”

On another part of the ranch, Kristie Ferrell, a 16-year-old member of the Third Ward, Las Vegas Stake, sat chatting with a nonmember friend who accompanied her to the conference. They discussed the youth activities the Church sponsors, as well as Kristie’s active role in her ward. Kristie leads music for the Young Women and is second counselor in her Mia Maid class. She enjoys volleyball and basketball.

Soon others were describing fun activities, too. Suzann remembered girls’ camp hikes in the nearby mountains and seminary lessons that “gave me a good feeling and made me want to do right all day long.” Walter Wagner, 15, of the 19th Ward, Redrock Stake, mentioned the dances held each week at different chapels and the rappeling classes with the teachers quorum in Redrock Canyon. “lt was scary at first,” he said, “but we got used to it.”

Soon the break would be over, and while the laborers finished their chores, adult advisers and some of the ranch hands would be butter-basting potatoes in charcoal-heated dutch ovens and slicing roast pork for the feast to come. The testimony meeting and choral performance scheduled for early evening would eventually be postponed until Sunday because of rushing desert winds, though the testimonies borne would be fervent and tender after a day’s rest gentled the effects of fatigue. Even the games, though riotous at first, would be short-lived because nearly everyone was exhausted.

But for one small moment, no one worried about all that. For one small moment in the bright, clear winter sunshine, there was a near-unanimous contentment, a happiness at being united in service and companionship with fellow Saints. And there was a realization that here there was more than one kind of oasis—that through service, love, gospel-sharing, and reaching out, the Saints in Las Vegas are building a spiritual oasis that will invigorate the desert people for eternities to come.

On April 1 of 2024, Air Marshall Islands (AMI) held a surprise ceremony for Captain Albon “Al” Jelke at Amata Kabua International Airport in Majuro to commemorate his final flight as chief pilot for the national airline.
Brother Jelke, a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, was the longest-serving pilot in AMI’s history, with over 43 years of flight service. US Federal Aviation Administration regulations prevent pilots above 65 from flying commercially, a milestone Brother Jelke reached in April. He will remain with AMI as general manager, a post he’s held for over two years.
Strong emotions were displayed by his fellow employees at the ceremony on April 1, including president of the Marshall Islands, Hilda Heine, who honored Brother Jelke for his commitment and service. The admiration expressed by AMI employees and people on social media attests to his friendly nature and dedication.

I will never forget the first time Jeff tried to kiss me. We were standing in the entryway of my home when my mother unexpectedly walked into the room and caught him in the act. Jeff, being the fast thinker he is, said, “Hi, Sister Terry. Pat and I were just trading gum.”
Later my mother, in retelling the incident to my father, said, “Jeff’s confidence in a difficult situation amazes me. The fact that he can think that fast on his feet will certainly ensure his success.”
My father smiled at me and said, “Confidence is a great blessing to anyone who has it. But Jeff is also smart enough to know what to have confidence in. Both of you need to remember that your greatest strength and surest success will come through humility and dependence upon the Lord.”

After being released from a second term as a bishop, and walking across campus, I noticed a posting of an LDS Family Services Fireside on ‘addiction recovery’ to be given that week at the BYU–Hawaii Chapel.
The Spirit whispered, “You and your wife need to attend this.” We did and following the fireside I was interviewed and subsequently called on a mission with LDS Family Services, directing the Addiction Recovery Program within our five local stakes.
It has been over eight years now and the learning has been profound. Our program goal is to help individuals overcome their addictions – realizing sobriety and healing through the Atonement of Jesus Christ.
I learned much about ‘mind-pollution’ from this calling: 1. What our mind sensually takes in, it keeps – sometimes forever. 2. Preoccupation with unworthy thinking can lead to unworthy behavior. 3. It’s a long process to cleanse a mind that has been polluted by unclean thoughts. 4. Pornography impairs one’s ability to enjoy a happy, normal, emotional, romantic, and spiritual relationship with another person of the opposite sex.
Internet pornography is a horrific game changer – from freedom, joy, and peace to captivity, bondage, and misery.
Internet pornography is one of the adversary’s best stealth-attacks to damn our progression, and prevent us from entering the temple.
Over time, I also learned: 1. There is no such thing as just looking. We can easily get hooked. 2. The problem does not go away after individuals get married. 3. It may temporarily halt, but then resurface and become an even more serious problem if left untreated. 4. By openly discussing an addiction, much can be done to safeguard ourselves, a dating relationship, a marriage, and a future family.

Some time ago, as director of LDS Charities, I was in a meeting when I got an urgent plea regarding Christian refugees who were purged from Mosul, Iraq, by Islamic State forces and were pouring into Kurdistan. The Anglican vicar of Baghdad had 5,000 people jostling for space in his church courtyard, and they had no food to eat. The Latter-day Saint humanitarian missionary couple was asking for emergency funds to purchase rice, beans, oil, and blankets, and we responded immediately so they could get dinner that evening.

Because of my work, these are the kinds of things in front of my face every day. Being forced to see the broad picture so often, I ask myself, what is the best use of my energies? As we seek answers, let us search the doctrines of the gospel. “Looking beyond the mark” (Jacob 4:14) or becoming obsessed with one question or one practice often shifts our focus and time from gospel living.

Bonnie L. Oscarson, Young Women general president, spoke of remaining anchored in the gospel as we seek answers: “We can choose whether or not we are going to stick with what we have already felt. There are not answers to everything, but we choose whether we will be true to what we have felt from the Holy Ghost. Let’s keep working to make things better, but keep our faith in the meantime.”7

Our practices will continue to change in the Church as we learn to apply our doctrine in better and more perfect ways. I hope the next generation is even more fair and equal in its practice of the gospel. But I also believe that the large foundational stones are in place and are enough to nurture our faith and our testimonies.

A few days after I arrived in Taiwan, I met Mickey Chang, a young man who had recently been been baptized. I shall never forget his coming to me to ask that I share something from the Book of Mormon. He wanted to know more about it. He wanted to read it. Once when we talked, Mickey cried while trying to express how difficult it was to have a testimony of the Book of Mormon without being able to read it. I began with increased understanding to plead with the Lord to make possible the sharing of the fulness of the gospel with every nation, kindred, tongue, and people.

I remember a conversation I had with a friend who is not a member of our faith. He was surprised to learn that any worthy man in our Church could receive the priesthood. He asked, “But how many priesthood holders do you have in your ward?”
I answered, “Between 30 and 40.”
Perplexed, he continued, “In my congregation, we have only one priest. Why do you need so many priests on Sunday morning?”
Intrigued by his question, I felt inspired to reply, “I agree with you. I don’t think we need that many priesthood holders at church on Sunday. But we do need a priesthood holder in every home. And when there is no priesthood holder in a home, other priesthood holders are called upon to watch over and minister to that family.”
Ours is not just a Sunday church. Our worship continues each day of the week, wherever we are and in whatever we do. Our homes in particular are “the primary sanctuaries of our faith.” It is most often in our homes that we pray, we bless, we study, we teach the word of God, and we serve with pure love. I can testify from personal experience that our homes are sacred places where the Spirit can abound—as much as, and sometimes even more than, in our formal places of worship.

We have seen Brenda's kind of faith and miracle reversed. About eight years ago we were informed that Eric Anderson, who had suffered since babyhood from Cystic Fibrosis, was in the hospital, his lung capacity almost gone and had only days, perhaps hours to live. Carolyn and I thought we must go see this living miracle once more before the miracle yielded up the ghost.
You see Eric was told when he was little that he would never participate in sports, never go a mission, never go to college, never get married or raise a family. He survived on priesthood blessings. When Eric first went to college his doctor wrote on his application to BYU-Provo that he was living on borrowed time. But Eric's faith and the faith of others sustained him. He went on a mission to Florida South Mission, but fell desperately ill and was given 72 hours to live. He recovered miraculously because of faith and the help of a world renowned Cystic Fibrosis specialist who treated him very aggressively. He completed a successful mission, married Arlene in 1986 in the Manti Temple, and became the proud father of four beautiful children all the while literally fighting for life and breath from day to day.
I shall never forget going into the hospital room. Eric was sitting on the bed, emaciated and struggling for breath, albeit he was serene, almost heavenly. He said to us "I'm so glad you came because I have just at this moment reached a milestone in my life."
"What milestone is that?" I asked.
Just this morning in my prayers I was able for the first time in my life to say to Heavenly Father, "Thy will be done" and really mean it. I have always held back that complete and final offering to the Lord, that He take my life if it is his will. I was completely and totally eager to do what He willed.His will was my will. I am free and at peace now.
Carolyn and I felt like we were on sacred ground when we walked out. We were sure we would never Eric Anderson alive again. How delighted and surprised we were when we heard that Eric was sustained in his effort to go back to the doctor in Florida that had saved his life on a mission. When he went to Florida he was only 108 pounds and was on four liters of oxygen. Three months later, he returned home running down the concourse, weighing 130 pounds and totally off the oxygen. He is truly a walking miracle. Eric is still walking and has served in several Church positions, continuing to be a light and an example wherever he goes.

The ninth man to see Moroni was a man named Zera Pulsipher. He was a minister of another church. He had a vision in his barn. While he was out in the barn one day, a light descended upon him in the middle of this barn, and he looked up and saw Moroni. And Moroni blessed his life and showed him the plates. He became a Seventy in the Church. He became a high priest and became a patriarch. He’s the man who converted and baptized Wilford Woodruff into the Church in 1833.

In the fall of 2011, as a new mission president and wife, we were excited to be out among our missionaries. We decided to do apartment inspections and visit every pair of missionaries in the mission.

As we traveled from Guatemala City to one of our more remote zones, known as Sololá, we learned that a demonstration was blocking the road in front of us. Demonstrations in Guatemala can take hours, and there is usually no way to get past them. But when we began to inquire about a possible alternative road, we were told of another route. The route, however, came with the following warnings:

Like any zealous new mission president and wife, on we went. After driving a while, we came to a spot on a dirt road that looked like a very steep drop-off into a wash. My beautiful wife joked that we should get the camera out and take pictures as we went over the edge.

Now, years earlier I had been a young missionary in Guatemala and had learned that a small branch dragged across the road meant "proceed with caution." It might even mean "stop." I saw the branch but failed, at the time, to register what it meant. In the next moment, we found ourselves dangling off a 20-foot ledge where a bridge had washed out. I managed to climb out my side, but my wife could not open her door. When she made a move to try and climb over the seat and come out my door, the vehicle began to rock. Obviously, it was a very concerning moment. Many thoughts ran through my mind. I could see the headlines: "New Mission President Drove over Embankment Where There Was No Bridge, Resulting in Severe Injury to Wife" or "New Mission President and Wife Missing; They Were Robbed on a Road on Which They Should Not Have Been Traveling."

Not knowing what to do, I paused outside the vehicle and pleaded with Heavenly Father, "Please help me in my moment of carelessness." Well, can you believe that a large banana truck suddenly pulled out onto the road from behind us? The driver and passengers saw us and came over to laugh and enjoy the predicament of the silly gringo. They pointed out the branch on the road. Literally, it was just a little twig.

Then, to our miraculous blessing, they retrieved from their truck the only chain that I saw in three years of service in Guatemala. They pulled us out and paused to take this picture.

Before they left, they cut down a tree and pulled it across the road. I think they wanted to make sure that the next gringo to come by did not make the same mistake.

At that point in time, we did what any other new mission president would do: We proceeded like nothing had happened. I am sure that a couple of the General Authorities to whom I reported will hear this talk and say, "What? We never heard about that."

Wonderful young people attending BYU-Idaho, I tell you this story to make the point that we must heed warnings, promptings, and direction given us by the voice of the Lord--no matter how strong or mild.

I remember being so homesick for Mama and Daddy that one day when I was about ten, I ran away from school during recess and headed down the country road to my house. The teacher saw me and called my father. He met me halfway, wiped away my tears, and told me that Mama was going to be all right and that we would be together again soon. When I got back to school, a good friend was there to comfort me. She helped me a lot through those next few months.

Elder Russell M. Nelson illustrated this point. He said: “I was serving as a consultant to the United States government at its National Center for Disease Control in Atlanta, Georgia. Once while awaiting a taxi to take me to the airport after our meetings were over, I stretched out on the lawn to soak in a few welcome rays of sunshine before returning to the winter weather of Utah. … Later I received a photograph in the mail taken by a photographer with a telephoto lens, capturing my moment of relaxation on the lawn. Under it was a caption, ‘Governmental consultant at the National Center.’ The picture was true, the caption was true, but the truth was used to promote a false impression.”17 We do not discard something we know to be true because of something we do not yet understand.

One time President and Sister Harold B. Lee were in our home. Sister Lee put a handful of pennies on a table before our young son. She had him slide the shiny ones to one side and said, “These are your tithing; these belong to the Lord. The others are yours to keep.” He thoughtfully looked from one pile to the other and then said, “Don’t you have any more dirty ones?” That was when the real teaching moment began!

Many years ago I was taught a lesson by a man I admired very much. He was as saintly a man as I have ever known. He was steady and serene, with a deep spiritual strength that many drew upon.

He knew just how to minister to others who were suffering. On a number of occasions I was present when he gave blessings to those who were sick or otherwise afflicted.

His life had been a life of service, both in the Church and in the community.

He had presided over one of the missions of the Church and looked forward to the annual missionary reunion. When he was older he was not able to drive at night, and I offered to take him to the reunions.

This modest gesture was repaid a thousandfold.

On one occasion when we were alone and the spirit was right, he gave me a lesson for my life from an experience in his. Although I thought I had known him, he told me things I would not have supposed.

He grew up in a little community. Somehow in his youth he had a desire to make something of himself and struggled successfully to get an education.

He married a lovely young woman, and presently everything in his life was just right. He was well employed, with a bright future. They were deeply in love, and she was expecting their first child.

The night the baby was to be born there were complications. The only doctor was somewhere in the countryside tending to the sick. They were not able to find him. After many hours of labor the condition of the mother-to-be became desperate.

Finally the doctor arrived. He sensed the emergency, acted quickly, and soon had things in order. The baby was born and the crisis, it appeared, was over.

Some days later the young mother died from the very infection that the doctor had been treating at the other home that night.

My friend’s world was shattered. Everything was not right now; everything was all wrong. He had lost his wife, his sweetheart. He had no way to take care of a tiny baby and at once tend to his work.

As the weeks wore on his grief festered. “That doctor should not be allowed to practice,” he would say. “He brought that infection to my wife; if he had been careful she would be alive today.” He thought of little else, and in his bitterness he became threatening.

Then one night a knock came at his door. A little youngster said, simply, “Daddy wants you to come over. He wants to talk to you.”

“Daddy” was the stake president. A grieving, heartbroken young man went to see his spiritual leader. This spiritual shepherd had been watching his flock and had something to say to him.

The counsel from this wise servant was simply: “John, leave it alone. Nothing you do about it will bring her back. Anything you do will make it worse. John, leave it alone.”

My friend told me then that this had been his trial, his Gethsemane.

How could he leave it alone? Right was right! A terrible wrong had been committed, and somebody must pay for it.

He struggled in agony to get hold of himself. It did not happen at once. Finally he determined that whatever else the issues were, he should be obedient.

Obedience is a powerful spiritual medicine. It comes close to being a cure-all.

He determined to follow the counsel of that wise spiritual leader. He would leave it alone.

Then he told me, “I was an old man before I finally understood. It was not until I was an old man that I could finally see a poor country doctor—overworked, underpaid, run ragged from patient to patient, with little proper medicine, no hospital, few instruments. He struggled to save lives, and succeeded for the most part.

“He had come in a moment of crisis when two lives hung in the balance and had acted without delay.

“I was an old man,” he repeated, “before finally I understood. I would have ruined my life,” he said, “and the lives of others.”

Many times he had thanked the Lord on his knees for a wise spiritual leader who counseled simply, “John, leave it alone.”

Alta Loma, California—The following report tells what it was like to be in the middle of one of the biggest West Coast fires of recent years. It is from the students of the Alta Loma (California) Institute of Religion:
“The recent September–October 1970 Meyer or Lytle Creek fire in San Bernardino County, the worst fire to date in the history of our region, has proven to be an unforgettable experience for many of us. Fanned by the Santa Ana winds, the spark from a carelessly thrown firecracker produced a devastating blaze that refused to be quieted for over three weeks. The fire consumed 33,920 acres of forest, caused over $15 million of watershed damage, and destroyed five private homes.
“Assistance in fighting the fire was required from forty-one local city fire departments as well as forestry personnel from California, Wyoming, Utah, Arizona, Nevada, and Oregon. Help also came from Indian firefighters in those areas.
“With a detached attitude, we watched the fire burn for several days on the mountain range that lies north of our Chaffey Community College. We thought it would never get to us. In the words of Brent Bliss, one of eight institute students who stayed to help protect our new elev-en-month-old institute building, ‘I thought it was a big joke. But then we watched the fire run down across the foothills. It came faster than anything I had ever seen.’
“On Thursday, October 1, the days of ‘spectator’ fascination were over. A fifty-to sixty-foot wall of flame raced unmercifully toward us. We were in the center of its path. Some officials estimated the fire’s speed at fifty to seventy miles per hour. Duff Snider, another institute student, said, ‘In the instant it took me to turn around, the fire was blown across the four-lane highway and had engulfed the entire north side of a building. It must have traveled 350 yards in a matter of seconds.’
“Almost instantaneously the fire surrounded the institute building, licking up the dry brush that encompassed our property. Suddenly we were alone; moments before, CBS, NBC, and ABC television newsmen had been in and out of our building, using phones, taking pictures, and asking questions. Now the Alta Loma Institute of Religion building was shared by only nine—eight students and our institute director, David Garner. As Brent Bliss later related, the firemen watching us from a distance called over their bullhorn, ‘It’s no use! Leave the building! It will burn!’
“The noise was deafening, as if we were completely surrounded by great jet engines. To breathe was labor, even though we had wet clothes wrapped around our heads; and our clothing, which we had soaked with water from some hoses, became dry in a matter of minutes from the terrific heat.
“Fierce winds ripped at our bodies, making standing possible only with great effort. Flying debris of all sizes and shapes filled the air, and smoke so saturated the area that visibility beyond a few feet was impossible. We worked in the light from the blazing wall of flame surrounding us. No words can describe our feelings; no thought is so imaginative that it can capture the truth of the reality we shared.
“At this moment of peril, our whole institute building was threatened by an ominous ball of fire that seemed ready to snuff us out. Jim Thomas, who was on the roof, reported, ‘I saw a great ball of fire come down toward us from overhead, but as I started to cover up with a blanket, the fire retreated—just like a movie film being run backward.’
“We heard, at this point, an audible explosion. A great eruptive force from ‘inside our ball of fire’ burst upward and outward, driving back the fire on all four sides of the building.
“Only minutes earlier, Norm Perdue had driven his car down the street to get it away from the fire. Returning, he saw it this way: ‘As I ran back to the institute, it was completely obscured with smoke and fire. I thought that perhaps it wasn’t even standing, but suddenly the smoke cleared away and the fire burned on toward the west, and there it was, still standing! It reminded me of when Francis Scott Key wrote the ‘Star Spangled Banner’ after the British had attacked Fort McHenry—when, after a night of fighting and bombing between the two military forces, Key was thrilled to see the flag still flying.
“A custodian who had been on the roof of a building at the college told us, ‘It was fantastic! I wouldn’t have believed it! I just knew you were gone. But the fire jumped over you and went on. I can’t understand it. You sure were lucky!’ We pointed upward and said, ‘Yes, we sure were.’
“We who had remained to help were deeply impressed with the answer to a prayer voiced by one of our students earlier, while many of us knelt together in one of the classrooms. What was amazing to everyone was that surrounding our institute was a ten- to twenty-five-foot ring of brush and undergrowth that did not burn! The explosive force within the ball of fire had simply stopped the fire in its tracks.
“Some of our nonmember friends who had been taking institute classes with us said they couldn’t believe it. For some of them, it was the only faith-and-prayer type experience they had ever had in their lives.
“We had a testimony meeting afterward with our students. Everyone’s expression was different, but the testimony was the same: Heavenly Father had heard our prayers and answered them in such a way that all of us could see the result. The memory of the fire seems to most of us just like a vivid dream or a dramatic experience of nightmare proportion. But the feelings of testimony and conviction linger on, building trust and love in our Heavenly Father.”

Some time ago I received a touching letter from Randy Spaulding, who lived in northern Utah. The letter explained the composition of his family and then the gradual onset of an illness that took his father from a healthy, strong individual to a weak and crippled middle-aged man. The father’s physical condition deteriorated until he could not work, could not walk, became confined to a wheelchair, and was almost helpless.
Randy told how the family and ward members have taken over the care of the farm and have provided much help to the family. Father can no longer speak; Mother is his constant provider of care—yet neither of them has uttered or written those words, “Why us?”
Let me return to Randy Spaulding’s actual words. He wrote: “One morning as I was thinking about the mundane things of life and hurrying out the door to begin the day, I happened to notice my father sitting in the corner of the room reading his scriptures. I stopped and went over to speak to him. I noticed the difficult circumstances he was under. With his right hand, he was trying to hold up his head enough to see me and read the Book of Mormon. I learned that at one of the most trying times, he still had enough faith to read about a God of love, a God of miracles who heals and makes us whole, and a God of life—eternal life. My father still believes. Oh, how I long to take him back in time to the Pool of Bethesda and to ask our Master if He would please have mercy on us, so that my father, also, could take up his bed and walk.”
His letter continued: “That day I returned to my bedroom and thanked my Heavenly Father for a father and mother second to none.”