Gospel Story Finder

Elizabeth Fetzer Bates, a piano teacher and the mother of six children, become totally blind in 1951. She accepted her blindness as a challenge and decided that she would learn to do everything that she could. She said, “I wrote ‘Pioneer Children’ because we are all pioneers—we’ve never been in today before.”
In 1969, she wrote “Book of Mormon Stories” because she loves the Book of Mormon and is grateful for America. She thinks that children like this song because it is simple and true.
Sister Bates still teaches piano lessons, and she believes that everyone should write a song. “Heavenly Father has created so many lovely things that we should sing as we walk along! We can always be happy if we remember to be grateful.”

It was early spring in Nauvoo when I first walked the Trail of Hope. The light was golden and the shadows warm as I walked the tree-lined path. As a photographer, I was focused only on shutter speed, aperture, and the amazing light that filled my lens.
Then gradually the thoughts of my ancestors who had walked this trail began to fill my heart. First it was Jared and Cornelia with their two-year-old son. I felt the chill in the air, but that chill was nothing compared to the freezing conditions Jared and his little family had experienced during their exodus. Cornelia died somewhere between Nauvoo and Salt Lake. I imagined Jared weeping as he picked up his son and continued on.
Afraid the feeling of their presence would leave, I didn’t stop photographing as tears blurred my view. Then I remembered young Sarah, who had left with her loving stepmother in the last group of Saints to leave Nauvoo. At one point, a loving Heavenly Father filled their camp with quail to feed them. Then they struggled forward with grateful hearts.
My heart began to swell with emotion; it felt as though Sarah had joined me. Jared and Cornelia with their little son were with me also. We walked together amid the light and shadow, past and present merging on this trail—this trail of hope, this trail of tears. In a way I can’t explain, they were with me and awakened in me our shared love of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I realized that my testimony burns in me because it had burned in them—passed from generation to generation—each laying the foundation for the next. I wept with gratitude.
Soon my husband, who had been photographing elsewhere, caught up with me. I stood close to him as I told him of my experience. He, like those Nauvoo Saints, was the first in his family to believe the gospel. And he, like those who had walked this trail more than 150 years before, would not be the last to believe. His testimony and mine nurtured the testimonies that now burn in the hearts of our children, just as the testimonies of Jared and Cornelia and Sarah nurtured the testimonies of thousands of their descendants.
Forgetting about our photography, my husband and I slowly walked the rest of the Trail of Hope together, quietly remembering those who had gone before.

Elder Lynn A. Sorensen’s call to be a General Authority was something he could not have imagined as a young boy growing up in the rural area of Murray, near Salt Lake City. “I can remember the first time that I attended general conference as though it were yesterday,” he reminisced. “I was just a young boy, and my wonderful parents brought me to the Tabernacle so that I could have a spiritual experience early in my life. We sat in the balcony to the left of the podium, and I could look directly down at the General Authorities. It was a great thrill for me to see President Heber J. Grant for the first time. I particularly remember how he sang the hymns with enthusiasm and how uncomfortable the hard wooden benches were to sit on. I remember looking at the upholstered individual seats occupied by the Tabernacle Choir and deciding that some day I would sing in the choir and have a comfortable, reserved seat for conference. Sitting in the red General Authorities seats was not what I had in mind at all.”
According to Elder Sorensen, his mother was “a very sweet, humble, sensitive person, and we had a lovely home life. My father was a master cabinetmaker who took great pride in his craft. There are many monuments to his woodworking abilities. Not long after he married, he was chosen to install all the woodwork in the new Cardston Alberta Temple. Then, when I was about six, we had a chance to go with him as a family the summer that he installed the woodwork in the Mesa Arizona Temple.”
Elder Sorensen remembered that some of the happiest times that he had were the summers he spent with his cousins on his uncle’s farm in Idaho. “Three of us boys, all about the same age, slept in an old bed out in the orchard under an apple tree. It was there on the farm that I learned to milk cows, thin beets, and weed potatoes. We were allowed to help thresh the peas when the big steam threshing machine came to our farm. Some people thought that that was hard work, but I thought that it was fun—and I still like to ‘farm’ in my big garden in Salt Lake City when I can.”
The oldest of five children, Elder Sorensen remembered that “just surviving during the Depression was a challenge. We always had food on the table, but we had a minimum of clothing to wear. The very first job that I had was folding newspapers once a week. I folded papers all day for twenty-five cents.”
Elder Sorensen loved sports and excelled in football, basketball, and baseball in high school in Salt Lake City. As a younger boy, however, he played baseball with the neighborhood boys in an open field, with a black friction-taped ball, a few gloves, and one old bat. “My mother wanted me to learn to play the piano,” Elder Sorensen said, “and she persevered for about six months, but she had a hard time getting me to practice, especially when I wanted to be out playing baseball. However, I had enough musical training so that when I was in the mission field, I could play about fourteen or fifteen hymns. I wish I had practiced more!
“I remember the excitement of being chosen as a crossing guard in sixth grade and how cold it was walking in the snow all the way to the school on the hill when I was in seventh grade. My biggest challenge was applying myself in school. I was more interested in sports and other things. Then, in junior high school, I was stimulated to learn so that I gained a balance in my life. I was able to pull up my grades and earn a scholarship.
“Serving a mission in Brazil was a great turning point in my life,” declared Elder Sorensen. “When I was twenty and had just completed two years of college at the University of Chicago on an academic/athletic scholarship, I had doubts about my going on a mission. When I returned home that summer, Mom said to me, ‘Well, now you can prepare for your mission.’”
Elder Sorensen told his mother that he had changed his mind and didn’t think that he would serve a mission. “I’ll never forget the hurt look on Mom’s face,” he recalled, “after I told her my decision. She didn’t scold me, but afterward she privately cried and prayed.
“I didn’t go back to school in Chicago that fall. With the help of Mom and Dad and a wise and understanding bishop, I accepted a mission call to Brazil and left for South America in 1940.
“It wasn’t very long after I arrived in the mission field and began studying the scriptures regularly that my testimony really began to grow. Since then it has never wavered but has grown stronger. I’m grateful to the Lord and my parents for guiding me at that very important crossroad.
“Children, listen to your parents. They love you more than anyone else does, except your Father in Heaven, who has an even greater capacity to love. If you follow their good teachings and example, you will always be happy that you did. And remember to follow the counsel and guidance of Church leaders, particularly your bishop.”

Then came the hard part. Though Juanita and I were financially set for a long life together—and we anticipated many missions, lots of travel, and lots of grandkids—life didn’t go as planned. Juanita got cancer. She fought valiantly, but cancer won. I learned that there are some things that matter much more than money, and I learned the hard way that “you can’t take it with you.”
After Juanita died, I was a lonely, single dad. I couldn’t sleep. I got angry easily. I didn’t eat well. To compensate, I wasted my money. I learned how foolish it is to spend money when you are hungry, angry, lonely, and tired.

I recently heard Jenny’s story. She is a returned missionary whose parents divorced while she was serving her mission. She told how the thought of returning home “scared [her] to death.” But at the end of her mission to Italy, as she stopped in the mission home on her way home to the United States, a certain woman, the mission president’s wife, tenderly ministered to her simply by brushing her hair.
Years later, another certain woman, Terry—a stake Relief Society president and disciple of Jesus Christ—blessed Jenny’s life when Jenny was called as a ward Relief Society president. At that time, Jenny was working on her dissertation for her doctoral degree. Not only did Terry serve as a mentor to Jenny as a leader, but she also sat with her for 10 hours at the hospital when Jenny received the alarming diagnosis of leukemia. Terry visited the hospital and drove Jenny to appointments. Jenny confessed, “I think I may have thrown up several times in her car.”
Despite her illness, Jenny continued to serve valiantly as the ward Relief Society president. Even in her extremity, she made phone calls and sent texts and emails from her bed, and she invited sisters to come see her. She mailed cards and notes to people, loving her sisters from a distance. When her ward requested a photograph of her presidency for their ward history, this is what they got. Because Jenny is a certain woman herself, she invited all to share others’ burdens, including her own.
As a certain woman, Jenny testified: “Not only are we here to save others but to save ourselves. And that salvation comes from partnering with Jesus Christ, from understanding His grace and His Atonement and His feelings of love for the women of the Church. That happens through things as simple as brushing someone’s hair; sending a note with an inspired, clear, revelatory message of hope and grace; or allowing women to serve us.”

It was typical of a national junior college finals wrestling match, especially in the heavyweight division. Both competitors struggled and strained, muscles bulging, feet grasping for a hold on the mat made slippery with sweat. Then the Ricks College wrestler slipped quickly behind his opponent, grabbed his arm, with a shoulder forced him onto his back, and held him helpless until the referee called a pin.

Afterwards, in the dressing room, the rivals smiled and shook hands. “When you go on this ‘mission’ of yours, I hope you get your call in my area,” the loser said. “I really want to hear more about your church.” J. L. Coon, 19, Ricks’s heavyweight, smiled broadly. But he smiled even more broadly a few months later when his mission call arrived: he was called to his opponent’s area, the Washington Seattle Mission! “I’ll have to look him up if I get near his city,” J. L. said.

J. L., whose real name is Joseph, has been winning at wrestling—and football and weightlifting and track—since starting high school. He had 34 straight pins in his senior year, was an all-state football player, took first place in the Utah high school shot-put competition, and won the Utah power-lifting competition by dead lifting 585 pounds. His record at Granger High School earned him scholarships in wrestling and football at Ricks. Recently, as a freshman at Ricks, he took fourth place in the national junior college wrestling championships, and his future as an athlete seems assured.

But J. L., who stands six feet tall and weighs 230 pounds, is giving it all up—for two years—to accept the mission call.

“It was an easy decision,” he said just before entering the Missionary Home in Salt Lake. “I’ve known all my life I would go.” He said living the Word of Wisdom, praying constantly, and reading the scriptures daily have helped him prepare. “Besides,” he adds, “I know this is the true church. I want to share it with others.” He plans to continue his sports career when he returns.

I thought about Dean Smoot’s comments, and how we as humans constantly try to push the laws of nature as well as the laws of God, when I read in the newspaper about a young man celebrating his birthday at a hotel. He and his friends had been drinking and were probably not thinking clearly when he decided to jump from one tenth-floor balcony to the next. Being successful the first time, he attempted a second leap and fell to his death. “We were just out having a good time,” said his friend, “but now] I realize how quickly life can be taken away.”

Sister Julie B. Beck, who was the 15th general president of the Relief Society from 2007 to 2012. I was serving as the Stake Relief Society President in the BYUH Married Stake at that time and heard her share this story.

“My parents, who had been my neighbors, announced that they would be moving to another part of the world. I had relied on my mother’s nurturing, wise, and encouraging example. Now she was going to be gone for a long time. This was before e-mail, fax machines, cell phones, and Web cameras, and mail delivery was notoriously slow. One day before she left, I sat weeping with her and asked, “Who will be my mother?” Mother thought carefully, and with the Spirit and power of revelation which comes to women of this kind, she said to me, “If I never come back, if you never see me again, if I’m never able to teach you another thing, you tie yourself to Relief Society. Relief Society will be your mother.
Three different women held the calling of Relief Society president in my wards during the years my parents were away. Alta Chamberlain invited me to teach time management and home organization to the other sisters, perhaps because she saw that I needed to improve those skills. Jeanne Horne encouraged me to complete my first serious personal study of the Book of Mormon. Norma Healey gave me my first assignments at the cannery and taught me much about service. These wonderful women understood the purpose of Relief Society.
Mother knew that if I was sick, the sisters would take care of me, and when I had my babies, they would help me. But my mother’s greatest hope was that the sisters in Relief Society would be powerful, spiritual leaders for me. I began from that time to learn abundantly from women of stature and faith.”

During a drive to amass warm clothing to ship to suffering Saints, Elder Harold B. Lee and Elder Marion G. Romney took President George Albert Smith to Welfare Square in Salt Lake City. They were impressed by the generous response of the membership of the Church to the clothing drive and the preparations for sending the goods overseas. They watched President Smith observing the workers as they packaged this great volume of donated clothing and shoes. They saw tears running down his face. After a few moments, President Smith removed a new overcoat that he had on and said, “Please ship this also.”
The Brethren said to him, “No, President, no; don’t send that; it’s cold and you need your coat.”
But President Smith would not take it back.
The Apostle Paul’s admonition surely was fulfilled that day: “Be thou an example of the believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity.”

A few years ago I had the wonderful opportunity of serving as the bishop of a BYU married student ward. It was a marvelous experience being able to associate with hundreds of wonderful couples. As I was getting close to being released, my stake president asked me a question that he asked all of the bishops at the end of their service.

He asked me, “What is the most important thing that you learned while you were a bishop?”

I quickly responded, “The incredible healing power of the Atonement.”

I had fine young people come into my office in the depths of despair because they had done things that had greatly offended their spouses as well as God. As part of our conversation they would often ask, “Bishop, how can I ever be forgiven for what I have done? How can I ever make it right with God and with my spouse?” We would then talk about the Atonement and its ability to cleanse each of us from sin if we sincerely repent.

I had wonderful people come into my office devastated because they had been terribly hurt by the actions of their spouse. Through their tears they would ask, “Bishop, how can I ever forgive my husband (or my wife)?” We would then talk about the Atonement and its ability to heal broken hearts and to give us the ability to forgive.

I had couples come into my office who were bitter toward each other. In just a few short years the interactions between them had deteriorated to the point where they were characterized by power struggles, bickering, angry accusations, and fighting. They felt hopeless that their relationship would ever improve. They would ask, “Bishop, is there any possibility that our marriage can be fixed?” We would then talk about the Atonement and the hope and healing that it brings to spouses who sincerely repent and who strive to forgive each other.

I saw miracles while I was a bishop. I saw individuals repent of their sins and earn back the favor of God and the trust of their spouse. I saw brokenhearted spouses find peace and the ability to forgive. I saw couples who were on the verge of divorce turn from destructive patterns of constant fighting to humbling themselves, looking inward, taking responsibility, apologizing for mistakes, and striving to forgive each other. Every one of these miracles was made possible by the healing power of the Atonement.

A father should never consciously disappoint his wife or children. In 1989 there was a terrible earthquake in Armenia that killed over 30,000 people in four minutes. A distraught father went in frantic search of his son. He reached his son’s school only to find that it had been reduced to a pile of rubble. But he was driven by his promise to his son, “No matter what, I’ll always be there for you!” He visualized the corner where his son’s classroom would be, rushed there, and started to dig through the debris, brick by brick.

Others came on the scene—the fire chief, then the police—warning him of fires and explosions, and urging him to leave the search to the emergency crews. But he tenaciously carried on digging. Night came and went, and then, in the 38th hour of digging, he thought he heard his son’s voice. “Armand!” he called out. Then he heard, “Dad!?! It’s me, Dad! I told the other kids not to worry. I told ’em that if you were alive, you’d save me and when you saved me, they’d be saved. …

“There are 14 of us left out of 33. … When the building collapsed, it made a wedge, like a triangle, and it saved us.”

“Come on out, boy!”

“No, Dad! Let the other kids out first, ’cause I know you’ll get me! No matter what, I know you’ll be there for me!”

I am indebted to Elder Dallin Oaks for an account, a modern-day parable which I refer to as the parable of the bushy-tailed squirrel, the tree, and the dog, which illustrates my concern:
As two men walked across an eastern university campus, they were attracted by a crowd of people surrounding a large maple tree. As they approached, they noticed that the crowd was being amused by the antics of a fox-tailed squirrel circling the tree, climbing it, and running back down again. A red Irish setter dog crouched nearby, intently watching the squirrel. Each time the squirrel ran up the tree out of sight, the dog would slowly creep towards the tree. The squirrel paid little attention as the dog crept closer and closer, patiently biding its time. People watching this entertaining drama unfold knew what could happen, but they did nothing until in a flash the dog—catching the squirrel unaware—had it in the grip of his sharp teeth.
The people then rushed forward in horror, forcing the dog’s mouth open to rescue the squirrel. It was too late. The squirrel was dead. Anyone could have warned the squirrel or held back the dog. But they had been momentarily amused and had watched silently while evil slowly crept up on good. When they rushed to the defense, it was too late.

Imagine putting in that kind of time and effort for an entire year. That’s what Erin Johnson of the McLean Virginia Second Ward did. She got up close and personal with the Mormon pioneers so she could make a presentation for National History Day.
“I read 45 books for the project. I got some of the books from the library, and people loaned some of them to me. I also read journals from ancestors and relatives,” says Erin.
The work didn’t stop when Erin finished reading, though. She then put together a ten-minute dramatic presentation depicting the struggles the pioneers experienced as they crossed the plains.
During that ten minutes, Erin takes the audience through trials on the plains such as a mother burying her small child by the side of the trail, and then on to Utah, where the Saints set up an orderly, productive society.
“Each family member had a job on the trail, even the children,” says Erin in her presentation. She presents a short account of a pioneer child gathering buffalo chips to burn. She points out that everyone’s job was important on the trail—glamorous or not.
All her hard work paid off when Erin won third place in the Junior National competition, as well as a special award in her state division. High praise for a 12-year-old who had to prepare, set up, and perform her presentation with no help from anyone.
“I think it’s important to be well educated and work hard,” says Erin. “I also have a much greater appreciation for my ancestors and what they went through after doing this project.”
Erin says she now also appreciates her own family even more than she did before.
“They’ve helped me a lot,” she says. “I couldn’t have done it without their support.”

Do you remember the day you entered into that covenant to serve Him? I was a conscientious eight-year-old. I wanted to keep the commandments. I wanted to feel my Savior’s approval. I remember that after I was baptized my father took me to a store, gave me a dollar, and told me to pick out something that would remind me of my baptism. I found five small pictures of the Savior and hung them in my room. I looked at them often and felt that He really did care about me. I wanted to please Him, but I wasn’t sure that I knew what all of the commandments were, and I worried that maybe I was not keeping all of them. Though my understanding of the covenant I made at baptism has increased over the years, as I partake of the sacrament each week and renew my covenants, I continue to feel His love for me, and I still want to please Him and feel His approval. One thing I know for certain: I am happy when I’m involved in His work.

I share with you a treasured family experience which had its beginning back in 1959, when I was called to preside over the Canadian Mission in Toronto.
Our daughter, Ann, turned five shortly after we arrived in Canada. She saw the missionaries going about their work, and she too wanted to be a missionary. My wife demonstrated understanding by permitting Ann to take to class a few copies of the Children’s Friend [now called the Friend]. That wasn’t sufficient for Ann. She also wanted to take with her a copy of the Book of Mormon so that she might talk to her teacher, Miss Pepper, about the Church.
Just a few years ago, long years after our return from Toronto, we came home from a vacation and found in our mailbox a note from Miss Pepper which read:
Dear Ann:
Think back many years ago. I was your schoolteacher in Toronto, Canada. I was impressed by the copies of the Children’s Friend which you brought to school. I was impressed by your dedication to a book called the Book of Mormon.
I made a commitment that one day I would come to Salt Lake City and see why you talked as you did and why you believed in the manner you believed. Today I had the privilege of going through your visitors’ center on Temple Square. Thanks to a five-year-old girl who had an understanding of that which she believed, I now have a better understanding of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Miss Pepper died not too long after that visit to Salt Lake City. How happy Ann was when she attended the Jordan River Utah Temple and performed the temple work for her beloved teacher to whom she had reached out so many years ago.

She was a convert of three years—a recently returned missionary who was never as happy as when she was inspiring up others with the story of her conversion. When I read the neatly typed version of her story written at the request of her mission president’s wife, I was awed. And I also felt a little envious. Her testimony had developed intensively as she had studied the Book of Mormon, taught the gospel, and sought spiritual confirmation of truth. She hadn’t seen angels, but she had seen small miracles. The Lord had touched her life. She, in turn, had touched my life through sharing her story. I was raised in the Church; I admire the enthusiasm of converts.
Such experiences, I told her, ought to be reciprocal. “And so I ought to give you something of equal value in return,’” I said. “But I don’t know what.” She tactfully declined my offer to let her read my poetry. (“I never read poetry,” she said.) “Why don’t you write your conversion story?” she suggested.
“But I’m not a convert.”
“That is no excuse.
I sat down that night to start, feeling doubtful. I reread her story and felt hopeless about ever being able to compile a conversion story from my lifetime of attending meetings and teaching Sunday School lessons. The pattern of my conversion wasn’t obvious, but the material was certainly handy—I had written diaries and journals for years. But did I have a conversion story? A look back through the journals showed that I had always been aware of the Church in my life. My ancestors were baptized in England and New England in the early decades of the Restoration and later crossed the plains to Utah. I remembered always being a Mormon.
Which was how I decided to start my story: I remember always being a Mormon. I told of growing up in the Church, of going to corn eating parties and Primary, of singing solos and telling my school friends about the Church. I told how no one needed to tell me when my grandmother died because I knew in my eight-year-old heart that it had happened. I told how all the relatives and seemingly half the town gathered for her funeral in the Rexburg, Idaho, Fourth Ward chapel.
As I reminisced, a theme began to emerge: as a child, I had learned the gospel by living it. Family and teachers had taught me to look to the Lord for strength. I had prayed since I was a child. This seemed ironic, because during my adolescence I had wondered if my prayers were correct and effective. Other people told of dramatic answers to prayers and of lengthy sessions of pleading with the Lord. My prayers, in contrast, were simple, short, and sometimes quite demanding and to the point. Yet I saw, by looking back through journals and searching my memory, that I had always prayed, and that my prayers had always been sincere. When grandma died, I prayed. When I lost control of a horse I was riding, I prayed. When I was scared no one would dance with me, I prayed. When I was too terrified to play a piano solo in public, I prayed. Though not every prayer was answered immediately, all were answered.
I realized that looking to the Lord for strength was a pattern of my life, and had been a part of me since I was a small child. I recognized a strength I had questioned before, and I recognized the Lord’s influence in my life as I had never recognized it before.
As I wrote of my intense involvement in Church while I was in high school, I recalled that many of my friends had wanted to know what made my life different from theirs. Why did I spend so much time at church? Why did the Mormon kids have such close relationships? What was our 6:30 A.M. religion class about? I had told some friends about the gospel. One girl friend and her family were baptized a few weeks after I had timidly asked them, “What do you know about the Mormon church?” one night as we sat around their kitchen table after a trip with the school orchestra. Another friend gained a testimony of the Book of Mormon but did not have the faith at age 15 to be baptized. Other friends went to Young Women meetings and to Church dances with me. A young man I met at a high school journalism conference joined the Church after we corresponded philosophically for three years. I had not converted him, but I had introduced him to the truth, and he had recognized it.
Before reviewing these incidents in my journals and writing them out for my conversion story, I had wondered if I were capable of being an effective member-missionary. “Every member a missionary” had rung guilty notes in my ears for years. Now I realized that I was a missionary—in my own way, with my own friends. Now, that knowledge gives me confidence in continuing to share the gospel gladly and openly.
I wrote next of times I had sought help from the Lord through his servants. I wrote of my high regard for one bishop in particular, of the blessing of knowing worthy men who regarded themselves as “the servant of all” (D&C 50:26). I had forgotten those men and the impact of their leadership. I had forgotten that from them came my first motivation to study the scriptures until the Lord’s words became a pattern for my thoughts.
I wrote how one morning while I was attending Brigham Young University, in Provo, Utah, I awoke feeling a need to know that my life had purpose. I prayed that as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve spoke at a devotional assembly that morning, his words would give me direction and motivation. The prayer was undeniably answered only hours later. That incident, too, I had not thought of for some time.
Throughout those events, I know the Lord was involved in my life. But, curiously, I had underestimated my ability to successfully live my religion. Writing my conversion story out—all eight typed pages of it—made me more appreciative of me. By reading my journal and writing my story, 1 understood myself better, and I saw my growth more clearly, I saw that even when I did not yet understand or accept all the principles of the gospel, I accepted the Lord. I wrote: Because I learned to pray as a child—taught by my grandmother, my mother, and uncounted teachers at church—I had a faith in prayer that carried me through periods of doubt. It was my prayers as a young child that I recalled in my greatest need.
An even greater benefit has come since writing out my own Church history. “And when thou art converted,” Luke wrote, “strengthen thy brethren” (Luke 22:32.) I gave a copy of my story to the friend who first shared her conversion story with me. (“It was pretty good,” she said. “You didn’t know you could write it, did you?” I have judiciously given it to a few other friends since, as we have shared experiences and encouragement. I share it with nonmember friends who want to learn more about the gospel. I wouldn’t give it to just anybody—too much in it is too private. The friends I share it with are strengthened, and that strengthens me. And now, with my conversion story written, signed, and dated, I am more than strengthened; I am a convert.

The Church is growing steadily in Central America, despite the effects in some countries of civil unrest, economic difficulties, and natural disasters. For a firsthand report on that growth, the Church magazines talked with Elder Ted E. Brewerton, president of the Central America Area.
Question: How strong is the Church in Central America?
Answer: There are more than a quarter of a million members spread over seven countries—Guatemala, Belize, Honduras, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, and Panama. We have forty-seven stakes, ten missions, and a temple. On average, we have about two hundred baptisms monthly in each mission.
Q: Does this create a great challenge to local leadership?
A: Yes, it does. But I believe that stake, regional, and mission leadership are in very capable hands. Helping us are ten regional representatives who are natives of our area. Seven of the ten missions have Latin American mission presidents, and the background and knowledge of the other members of the Area Presidency add to our strength. My first counselor, Elder Carlos H. Amado, is Guatemalan, with much leadership experience, and my second counselor, Elder Jay E. Jensen, has spent much time in Latin America. Because of this strength, there is more ecclesiastical leadership training going on than ever before.
Q: It sounds as though people in Central America are receptive to the gospel.
A: In many areas they are. And the hand of the Lord is obviously in the work.
In about March 1991 in La Ceiba, on the north central coast of Honduras, missionaries were teaching a family, but the family lost interest after two lessons. Then in July, two lady missionaries found a record of the family and went back to visit. When they arrived, the mother in the family was weeping, and they asked her what the problem was. She told them about a dream in which she saw her twenty-year-old son, who had heard the first two lessons with the family but had died a month before the sisters’ visit. In the dream, her son had told her, “You and Dad must get baptized so I can get baptized.” And she asked them, “How can a dead person be baptized?” There was joy in that household when the family heard the rest of the missionary lessons. Four of them were baptized in August 1991.
Q: Then the spiritual strength of the Church is keeping pace with the numerical growth?
A: Oh, yes. Knowledge of gospel principles and doctrine is strong even among new members. This is partly because of missionaries and local leaders. We have seen a distinct increase in spirituality. Spiritual strength has grown, too, because of ways members have responded to difficulties or turmoil around them.
Q: Have civil unrest and natural disasters in some Central American locales frustrated the progress of the Church?
A: The fighting in some countries has cause difficulty for the Church. Some members’ homes have been damaged or lost in earthquakes and civil unrest. However, when a volcanic eruption spewed ash over southern Guatemala last year, wind blew it away from the location of our six Church units, and in the most recent earthquake, no homes of Latter-day Saints were lost.
It may seem paradoxical, but unrest in some countries has strengthened Latter-day Saints’ self-reliance. They have had to call more missionaries from among their own countries and have had to should heavy leadership burdens themselves. Two of the ten missions in Central America, for example, have no Anglo-American missionaries; all missionaries serving in these missions are from Latin America. This increased self-reliance has been a blessing to members. Also, upon returning home, these missionaries marry in the temple and are stronger leaders and members.
Q: Recently, Anglo-American missionaries were taken out of Honduras. How is the missionary activity continuing in their absence?
A: Both missions in Honduras continue to operate or function with only Latin American missionaries. In addition, the stakes and wards see the increased need to prepare and call even more of the local young men on missions and be increasingly self-reliant.
Q: Have some members been scarred by the effects of the conflicts in their countries?
A: Yes, some have. We have some missionaries who have carried around very painful pasts related to their war activities. Most of these of whom I speak are converts, and some of them had been involved in fighting. But when they change their lives, they become strong leaders! I think in a sense they become happier than most people can imagine because they realize that repentance is real and that the Atonement is for them, too. They recognize that they can really be forgiven of things they didn’t want to do or had to do in the past.
Q: Is Church growth coming at all levels of society?
A: Yes, but I would say Church membership is growing the most in the middle and lower-middle economic levels. We are, however, baptizing professionals.
The self-reliance I spoke of earlier has developed a great corps of leaders. You would be impressed to see the dozens of very strong, devoted men and women who can do anything in the Church. We have many outstanding women in the Church. In Managua, Nicaragua, for example, my wife and the mission president’s wife met recently with five hundred women. Because of poverty and conditions in that country, these Latter-day Saint women had not met in that kind of group for years. They rejoiced greatly in the spirit they felt together.
Q: Members must be encouraged by their efforts to strengthen the Church.
A: They don’t look at themselves as being successful. They are humble. Their lives seem to revolve around the Church. They don’t want to leave the meetinghouse on Sundays; they just want to be there with their friends.
They have an affinity and a sensitivity to the Spirit that’s remarkable. There is no tine of hesitancy in talking to their friends and neighbors about religion. They talk openly about praying and the effect it has on their lives.
Q: Is the Church generally well accepted in Central America?
A: Yes. Many of the biases about religion that used to exist are gone now. We have done some things to help gain acceptance for the Church. For example, we put flagpoles in our meetinghouses in Guatemala, and on 15 September 1991, which is Independence Day in all of the Central American countries, we held flag-raising ceremonies at 154 of our buildings. During the programs, we offered prayers for peace and for rain in the countries involved. The programs were well attended by civic and military leaders, and very well received by people in general. They helped government leaders and others understand the Church’s commitment to bettering the areas where we have members.
But the members themselves have probably done more to gain acceptance for the Church than anything we could have planned. We have a few Church members who are members of high political circles. Other Church members have held high rank in the military—Colonel Augusto Conde, for example. Because of his integrity, he retired from military service in Guatemala with the finest reputation any man could have; then he served in the Guatemala temple presidency. The secretary to the vice president of El Salvador is the wife of a counselor in a stake presidency. She’s outstanding.
Members like these talk openly of their religion and what it stands for. And people in their countries are taking notice. One of the highest ranking ministers in the government of El Salvador invited Israel Pérez, president of the El Salvador San Salvador West Mission, to his office and personally resolved some problems with visas for missionaries. Then he told President Pérez, “I want you to know that because of what you are doing, our country is better. You are family-focused, you are oriented to upgrading people morally. I welcome you here.”
Q: What else do you think has contributed to the success of the Church in Central America?
A: Two scriptures come to mind. The first is from Helaman: “And thus we see that the Lord began to pour out his Spirit upon the Lamanites, because of their easiness and willingness to believe in his words” (Hel. 6:36).
Before sharing the second scripture, let me paint a picture for you. When I stand at the pulpit and speak, I look into the beautiful faces of faithful Saints. When I go to the temple and we are dressed in white clothing, I see a beautiful people with skin a little darker than mine—and the words of the Savior to the survivors of the destructions in 3 Nephi come into my mind: “And behold, ye are the children of the prophets; and ye are of the house of Israel; and ye are of the covenant” (3 Ne. 20:25). The Shepherd of Israel has not forgotten His sheep.

One of my earliest recollections of a personal experience with recognizing the Spirit came when I was a missionary in Korea. I had the responsibility to present a lesson about something to the missionaries at an upcoming zone conference. I felt strongly the desire to teach something that would motivate, uplift, and help the missionaries in our zone. I remember the weight I felt on my shoulders as I pondered, prayed, and prepared for that lesson. It wasn’t a pleasant weight. It was a heavy weight that burdened me as I struggled to find the right idea for the lesson. Then one day I had a burst of inspiration. Thoughts came into my mind and almost instantly I knew what to teach. I knew it was right because the heavy burden that had weighed me down was lifted. Instead, I felt exhilarated. I guess you could say I felt peace. I remember thinking, “This must be what it feels like to be prompted by the Holy Ghost.”

Each of us has his own way of remembering. At Christmastime I take delight in visiting the widows and widowers from the ward where I served as bishop. There were eighty-seven then, just eight today. On such visits, I never know what to expect, but this I do know: visits like these provide for me the Christmas spirit, which is, in reality, the Spirit of Christ.
Come with me, and we’ll together make a call or two.
At a nursing home on First South, we might interrupt, as I did a few years ago, a professional football game. There, before the TV, were seated two widows. They were warmly and beautifully dressed—and absorbed in the game. I asked, “Who’s winning?” They responded, “We don’t even know who’s playing, but at least it’s company.” I sat between those two angels and explained the game of football. I enjoyed the best contest I can remember. I may have missed a meeting, but I harvested a memory.
Let’s hurry along to Redwood Road. There is a much larger home here where many widows reside. Most are seated in the well-lighted living room. But in her bedroom, alone, is one on whom I must call. She hasn’t spoken a word since a devastating stroke some years ago. But then, who knows what she hears, so I speak of good times together. There isn’t a flicker of recognition, not a word spoken. In fact, an attendant asks if I am aware that this patient hasn’t uttered a word for years. It makes no difference. Not only have I enjoyed my one-sided conversation with her—I have communed with God.

Another time, Rachel worked with all of the young women as well as the adults in the ward to put together a cookbook. Everyone learned about cooking, shared recipes, and the adults noticed that the youth took an interest in them, too. That prompted her mother to work on a book of her own, what she calls an “heirloom” cookbook. “It includes recipes like my grandma’s recipe for rolls,” Sister Ross explains. “But it includes her photo next to the recipe so you get a feeling for her as a person.”