Gospel Story Finder

On the night of June 20, 2000, several colleagues and I were working late in the executive offices of then Ricks College in Rexburg, Idaho. We were making final preparations for an unexpected and historic assembly on our campus the next morning and the announcement by President Hinckley that Ricks College would become a baccalaureate-degree-granting institution and take on the name of Brigham Young University–Idaho. As an administrative team we were just beginning to realize the monumental nature of the responsibility and challenges that were before us.

As we walked out of the building that night, one of my colleagues asked, “President, are you scared?” As best as I can recall, I answered something like this: “If I thought we had to execute this transition relying exclusively upon our own experience and our own judgment, then I would be terrified. But we will have help from heaven. Because we know who is in charge and that we are not alone, then no, I am not scared.” And we who serve at BYU–Idaho unitedly testify that there has been help from heaven, miracles have occurred, revelations have been received, doors have been opened, and we have been greatly blessed as individuals and as an institution.

So it was 1986 and I did have two great blessings, and one was the year and half long marriage to my best friend in all the earth and the second blessing was the anticipation of a visit from my parents. Kristi and I lived in Provo, feeling fully actualized as kind of a Bobby and Betty BYU: both of us working on our marriage and family majors, both of us teaching missionaries at the Missionary Training Center, and both of us making 475 square feet of apartment space into a home--our home.

A year and a half into that married bliss, my parents were coming to Salt Lake City for my father to receive back surgery. My father was due for a several week recuperation, which would place him under my mother's direct care and they would both be staying at the home of my wife's parents and within visiting range of two dirt-poor college students.

Near the end of my parents' time with us, my father presented me with a poem. I had received other letters and thoughts from my father over the years, but I had never received a poem. It had my interest. Now my father was a man who would sit by my childhood bedside and explain in vivid detail how cells work, how blood flowed though veins and arteries, how muscle and bone combined to help us run and walk and move. He knew things about stars in the sky, about pine trees in the White Mountains of Arizona. He had been a seminary teacher, turned deputy sheriff; he wore boots and had a shiny badge. He made seemingly endless piles of French toast and homemade syrup every Saturday morning.

Mom and Dad had nine of us, and providing for such a brood saw my Dad take weekend security jobs at ASU football games or lonely midnight shifts securing shopping malls and stores. Those long nights offered him the occasional respite to sit and ponder. During one of these late night vigils, he once penned an 11-point document entitled, "True Happiness: What I Want To Teach My Children." To me, it reads like scripture, for example, this counsel, "Happiness follows effort. It occurs when the mind is at peace with the soul and the heart, when we are one with ourselves. It frequently occurs in the midst of hardship, trial, poverty, pain. It is frequently absent in the midst of wealth, ease, comfort and physical pleasure."[2] My father thought often of his children and how he might teach us principles of happiness, even when he could not be physically present. And once again he was teaching me, this time through poetry.

The poem tells of a young husband and father, who has gone into the mountains near his home to have solitary communion with his Heavenly Father in prayer.

The young man has a plea:
"What gift can I give dear Father,To show my love for thee?"
The Father responds:
"There is no gift that thou canst bringExcept thyself--just thee"
The man is perplexed and seeks to probe further, but the response, "only thyself--just thee" is all he receives that morning and he must head down into the fields of his day's work, pondering over this message from the Lord. Near the end of his day, weary and worn, he returns home and coming up the path is greeted by shouts of joy and hugs from his small child. The heart of this young father is filled near to bursting with love for his child. Slowly, with his little one clasped in his arms, the father turns and looks again at the mountain where earlier that day he had poured out his heart regarding something holy he could offer to the Heavenly Father he loved so much. It seemed to the young man as the last stream of sunlight hits the mountain peak that he felt an answer pierce his heart.

Yes, go to the mountain for comfort,Go to the mountain to prayYet it's here in the valley you're shapingThe gift you will offer one dayWork while that day is offeredGive to the task at handServe with a heart that is openWith love for your fellowmanYes, go the mountain for comfortGo to the mountain to prayBut remember my son it's the valleyWhere you're forging your life for that day[3]

Sh. Purevsuren was introduced to God and Bible stories while studying at a university in the Soviet Union. (Mongolians ordinarily go by their first name, with initials of the surname in front for official purposes.) He bought a Bible from a fellow student because the book had Russian on one page and the same text in English on the facing page. Purevsuren read surreptitiously at night to learn English; reading the Bible openly would have meant expulsion.

His father had taught him Buddhist principles of honor and right, and Purevsuren had always tried to live by those. His spiritual interest in the Bible came only after he returned to Mongolia, married, and was a university professor. In connection with his work, he visited India. A Christian he met there gave him a Bible and shared feelings about the divinity of Jesus Christ. Purevsuren remembered his father’s teachings about a life following this one. “I had a fundamental belief about God from my father,” he says, and he began to wonder how God would want him to prepare for the next life.

As the head of a consortium of Mongolian educators, he was invited to visit the United States, where he first saw the Book of Mormon. In Utah, a Church member who hosted the tour group gave him a copy of the book. Purevsuren read in it briefly, then put it aside.

In September 2000, his family came into contact with LDS missionaries in Mongolia and listened to the missionary discussions. This time he read the Book of Mormon with new eyes and found truth he had been seeking. He and his wife were baptized and confirmed that November. Only a week or two later, he was called as branch president.

Their children were not interested at first in this new church. Their son, then in high school, was especially resistant, but, obediently, he agreed to his father’s request to listen to the missionaries. Eventually, both children were baptized and confirmed. Their son served a mission in Idaho.

Now Purevsuren is deeply involved in teaching young people as coordinator of the Church Educational System for Mongolia, a position he was given in 2001.

There are about 600 institute students in Mongolia and some 700 in seminary. Those numbers have grown by about 300 percent since 2001, even though students often face opposition from family members, and the cost of attendance, in time and transportation, is high.

What is the most rewarding part of his job? “The best thing, I think, is seeing so many kids joining the Church through seminary” as students bring their friends.

A few years ago, at the outset of 2011, I introduced to my family an idea that had been on my mind for some time. My brainstorm, received by some of my family with joy and excitement, and by others with a little anguish and trepidation, was to plan an excursion to backpack into the High Uinta Mountains in Utah and ascend Kings Peak. The High Uintas are a beautiful and rugged mountain range with plentiful opportunities for hiking, backpacking, and fishing. Unfortunately, each year some, who underestimate the rugged nature of this wilderness, get lost. Many are rescued after a few scary nights spent wandering the hills. Others experience serious injury, and in some cases lives are lost if the appropriate care is not taken. These are mountains that demand respect and will punish those who do not give it.

Kings Peak sits atop this range and stands supreme as the highest peak in the state of Utah. It is only accessible to those willing to pay the price of an arduous outdoor adventure. I had on multiple occasions stood at the top of Utah and looked over the miles and miles of spectacular views and thought that the moment had been perfect, only to realize that the one thing that would have improved that moment would be to have my wife and children with me. That was the origin of the adventure we would embark on during the summer of 2011.

As the sun rose on August 7, so did we. We ate breakfast, broke camp, and prepared for the day. I checked with each individual, balanced the loads, and adjusted backpacks. Satisfied, we gathered at the trailhead, prayed, took this picture that I love, and then departed. It was a glorious day; there was a brilliant blue sky, the temperature was perfect, and spirits were high. This was to be an incredible trip.

We made great progress for a while, but as the miles began to pile up enthusiasm began to wane. Charlie, for example, our youngest hiker, began to realize how long this day really would be. Discouraged, he slowed, and we slowed with him. I realized we were falling behind schedule and that I needed to do something to motivate him. To this day the kids tease me about the story that I made up as I held Charlie's hand and hiked, side-by-side with him for probably five miles. Somehow, ideas came to my mind and I weaved a tale of intrigue, aliens, explosions, betrayals, and surprises.

With Charlie distracted, our momentum increased. We made great progress for several miles and eventually we arrived at Henry's Fork Basin. Not long after, we came to our next obstacle. We had to cross a swelling Henry's Fork River. The bridge, constructed from trees and some rope, was safe, but crossing it tired and with the weight of the backpacks created some fear in a few of the team. After some coaching and motivation, everyone successfully forded the river.

At this point, the trail slopes into a significant ascent that would be our most challenging climb of this first day. Not long after we began to climb, we were faced with our next challenge; Doug, our son-in-law, began to suffer with respiratory problems. The closer we got to timber line, the altitude where the oxygen is too thin for trees to grow, the more serious Doug's problems became. Finally, after his courage and determination were overcome by his biological need for air, we were forced to stop again. After a prayer and a priesthood blessing, it was decided that Doug would leave his pack and begin walking. I hiked as fast as I could to the top of the ascent, dropped my pack and returned to carry Doug's to the top of the hill. From there we regrouped and moved forward to our camping spot at Dollar Lake.

That night, surrounded by my family in this beautiful place, we sang, told stories, and talked until one-by-one the kids and my wife retired to their sleeping bags. As is usually the case with me, I found myself sitting alone by a fire with an incredible sky full of stars and plenty of time to think. As I reflected on the day that had passed, I admit that a little pride set in as I mused at what a great leader I was. After all, during that day I had been presented with challenges of discouragement, exhaustion, fear, and even physical problems. In each case I had used my leadership toolkit to overcome the problems, and now, here we were. Not only that, but how awesome was it going to be to stand on top of Kings Peak with my loved ones. And how great was it going to be to send that picture out as our Christmas card to all my friends. That was going to be an accomplishment I would be proud of.

Well, there's a funny thing about pride; as soon as we begin to be puffed up in our own superiority and accomplishment, God has a knack for teaching us a lesson. The next day He took full advantage of that opportunity and taught me lessons I will never forget.

As we roused ourselves the next morning, we were excited to get moving. We were already behind schedule when we left, but I knew of a shortcut that would get us to the top quicker. As we arrived at the top of Gun Sight Pass, where a slight deviation would lead us to the shortcut, the spirit whispered, nay yelled at me, that it was not a good idea to take the shortcut. We obeyed and decided to take the longer trail considering that we could still make the top and get back down by midafternoon.

As we descended the back part of the pass, and subsequently began to climb, the rough terrain began to take a toll on my family. Over and over we rested and restarted. I started feeling anxious about our slowed progress. As we proceeded, our pace reduced even more. I began to move past anxiety to genuine worry as we were already into the afternoon hours and were not yet close to the peak. In my mind, we simply needed to move faster, so I continued to push.

We arrived at the base of the Anderson Pass. This pass marks the final ascent to the peak, an ascent that is very difficult as there is no path to speak of. From this point on it is a steep and tough climb over huge boulders. After a series of climbs and breaks, I arrived at another resting point and took a moment to look over my flock. It didn't look good. It was already deep into the afternoon, and with the exception of my wife and two daughters, the crew was moving slowly. I was becoming more and more worried and I began to come to the realization that my goal to have all of these people on top of this peak was dwindling away. We gathered in a family council to make a decision that would ultimately require the sacrifice of my badge of honor.

It became clear that getting all of us to the peak, was really not an option, so the question in front of us was whether or not we should split up to allow those still in good shape to make the peak while the others began the descent, or whether everyone would sacrifice the victory and descend together. During this council, I looked at our son Tim, then fourteen years old, and I saw the tears beginning to flow out from underneath his sunglasses. Tim has always had a tender heart and has enjoyed a special relationship with the Spirit. When I asked what was wrong, he replied, through his sobs, "we need to stay together." I was the experienced backpacker, he was just a child. In my confidence, I discounted his council.

We decided that I would turn around and help those who could not make it and still leave enough time to hike back to our camp before dark. My wife and two daughters would continue on to the peak and immediately follow us down to the camp. Yes, we were disappointed to come that close and not be able to attain the goal. It was hard to watch my wife and daughters scurry up the rocks towards the peak.

Anyway, down we went, and much to my worry, our pace had not sped up. In fact we were moving slower than ever. With time ticking away, I began to feel concerned and worried as I realized that there were no lights in any of the bags. After all, we had planned to be back at camp by midafternoon. I began to be even more worried as I arrived at the base of Gunsight Pass and looked back and saw, off in the distance, my wife, Jaime, and Maddie, following the wrong path, off into Painter Basin. This was a big problem, as it would quickly take them in the wrong direction to a very remote and unfamiliar territory with night quickly approaching.

At that moment, I began to question the decision to leave our flashlights at camp. I began to question our decision to split up. And I began to question how well I had prepared the team to navigate in the Uintas.

After a quick prayer, I made a decision, to send the crew I was with up the pass and I turned around and began to sprint back across the expanse of the valley. Once I got to the other side of the valley, I could see my girls afar off, after all they were hiking quickly to catch up with us, only they were still on the wrong path. I tried desperately to yell and wave in hopes that they would see, but at that moment, I had a serious problem. On the one hand I had the crew who were exhausted and struggling headed up Gun Sight Pass. On the other hand, although they were in good shape, my girls were headed the wrong way.

All the time, the day was turning into night. At that very poignant moment, all disappointment at not making the peak, and any other petty worry left me. I was completely helpless. The feelings of confidence and pride that I had enjoyed the night before were completely vacant.

It was at this moment that I realized that our successful reunion would be entirely out of my hands and that I was dependent on the Lord. The prayer I offered was brief but intense as I asked for guidance. I poured everything I could into it, expressed my willingness to submit to God's will, and waited for an answer.

My answer came. It was to turn around and get back with the part of my family struggling to get up Gun Sight Pass. I was not in a place to question the Lord so I turned, wiped the tears from my eyes and again sprinted back across the valley and scurried, as fast as I could up the pass. I caught up with my kids near the top and discovered that things were not going so well. Everyone was exhausted and discouraged. To top it off, my oldest daughter had a severely sprained ankle.

With determination, and after a prayer, asking the Lord to protect our family, we slowly but determinedly moved toward our camp. As we arrived, I was aware that the sun had gone down, darkness was creeping across the world, and the girls were still lost. I was terrified. After getting everyone settled, I grabbed a bag full of flashlights, enjoyed a brief drink of water, and headed back up the trail. I didn't know what to expect, but I knew I needed to go back. I was listening to the Lord at this point.

As I hiked, I cried. I rethought the day and the decisions that lead us to this point. While I knew I was doing what the Lord was telling me now, I could see the things I had done wrong previously in that very long day and realized that the price of my mistakes might be catastrophic. By now, it was dark. The light was gone. I was very worried and offered another prayer.

Although the path in front of me was illuminated by the light strapped to my forehead, there were three out there who were hiking in the dark. A few moments later as I hiked with all the energy I had left in my body, I saw the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. There they were, my wife and daughters, coming around the corner. I fell to my knees, exhausted and grateful. After a quick prayer of thanks, I ran to them and hugged them.

Back at the camp, I sat, surrounded by those people who are most important to me. Each of us, through the trials of the day had all the worldly concerns and pride stripped away. Although my wife and two daughters had reached the peak, my goal was not accomplished. That didn't matter, for I had gained something more valuable. I learned lessons of critical importance. The worldlypride of boasting that my family reached the peak had been stripped away and replaced by a contentment that I cannot describe. Oh how I rejoiced as we sat there in love with one another and feeling the joy of the Lord.

Armstrong Central Junior High School is one Apple computer richer thanks to Jared Tolman, of the Freeport Ward, Pittsburgh East Stake. The seventh grader won the computer for his school by placing first in the Best Overall category at the annual computer competition held at Indiana University of Pennsylvania.
This was no small feat, since the contest included 6th–12th graders. Jared’s entry, entitled “Calcu-Draw,” allows the user to draw shapes and select colors by giving a few simple directions.
Working with computers is not the only focus in Jared’s life. He also likes serving as a deacon, playing soccer and Nintendo, Scouting, and collecting rocks.

A few months ago I was repairing a broken water line. In the process, my clothes got wet and muddy and my arms were covered in grease. When I discovered that I needed a small part to repair the line, rather than taking the time to clean myself up, I jumped in the car and drove to Home Depot. As I was carefully examining the array of parts to make sure that I purchased the right size with the right thread spacing, a man I did not know walked down the aisle and passed behind me. As he walked a few feet beyond me, I heard him say, “That doesn’t look like the Presiding Bishop to me.” I was embarrassed beyond words because I had failed to live up to the standard expected. This time I asked myself critically, “David, my boy, are you ever going to learn?”

I will try to tie this all together by a continuation of the story with which I began. I grew up and left Montana and went to Ricks College to play basketball. While there, several people became my dearest friends. One was a young man named Keith, who sat in front of me during my first class. He and another young man, Kent, and I spent a great deal of time together. We were high-spirited and, some might say, even a little rowdy. To say the least, we had great fun in and out of class.
Keith introduced me to his younger sister. Suffice it to say, I fell in love with her. I will be forever grateful to him for that one act that has blessed my life now and forever. In those days full-time missions were not promoted quite as much as they are now. I had decided that I wanted to enlist in the air force and become a pilot. But, succumbing to the influence of my two friends and the imploring of Bonnie, who insisted that she would never marry me without my serving, I accepted a call to the Spanish-American Mission in Texas and New Mexico to labor with the Mexican people. Keith went to the northwest, and Kent went to Argentina.
Upon our return home, each of us married in the temple and began our families. We went to college and obtained as much education as we possibly could. Eventually, while still young, we migrated back to Rexburg, Idaho. Kent became a prosecuting attorney, and Keith and I taught religion at Ricks College. Almost at the same time the three of us were called to be bishops in the Church. A few years later we were called to be counselors in stake presidencies, and I was subsequently called to preside over a stake. All three of us were called to be mission presidents. Then Keith was called to serve as president of the Portland Temple, and Kent and I were called to be General Authorities.
Our whole lives were centered in the gospel and in the Church. We had totally committed ourselves to the Savior. Perhaps some of you know them. I have spoken of Elder J. Kent Jolley, formerly a member of the Second Quorum of the Seventy, and President Keith L. Sellers.
I have told you this in an effort to convince you that it requires the gospel and the Church to bring everything that is important in our lives into one eternal sphere. There is nothing else in this life of eternal worth—just family, friends, and the gospel and the Church of Jesus Christ.

When I had my first baby, I was overjoyed about having this little person in my home and couldn’t believe how much I loved him. But I also felt overwhelmed with how much care he required and my inability to live my life as freely as I had before. I kept thinking about how life used to be simpler. I thought about how I used to be able to shower and do my hair each morning. I thought about how I used to like my body better. I thought about how I used to be more well-rested and therefore more fun. I felt awful when I focused on my past like this.

Eventually I realized I could not find answers in the past. I had to focus on the future. I had to start visualizing myself doing the things I wanted to in my life, but with a baby. I had to tap into the person I wanted to become, not the person I used to be. This is not always easy, but it’s available if you’re willing to open yourself up to possibility.

Early in 1957, two missionaries knocked on his mother’s door and she invited them in. This was the start of John Douglas Jeffrey’s learning about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. As he and his mother spent time with the missionaries, the Holy Ghost bore witness to him that the Church was true because the missionaries were able to answer all of his questions.
Later, John moved to Townsville, Queensland, where he met more missionaries who continued to teach him, and also his new wife, Lois. In September 1957 they became the first people to join the Church in Townsville. He was baptised in Bluewater Creek just north of Townsville. (Baptisms in creeks or swimming pools were common in the early days of the Church.)
“Learning about the true Church changed my life,” John reflects. “I have wondered what I would have done if my mother said ‘no’ when those missionaries knocked on her door!” With a new gospel perspective, John and Lois saved up to visit the Hamilton New Zealand Temple, where their family was sealed for time and all eternity. “It took us a good while because we had four children and of course we had to take them to be sealed to us!”
John taught at the Townsville Grammar School and witnessed the struggles of a growing small branch. In those days there were few chapels in Australia and members met in homes or in rented halls. After 15 years in Townsville, he received an invitation to teach at the relatively new police academy in Oxley, Brisbane. He had only been at the police academy two years when he was invited to join the Church Educational System as a coordinator in Brisbane.
The first stake in Queensland was organized in 1960 with William E Waters called as the stake president. He was followed by a man from Scotland called William E Proctor. It was during this time that John was called to be the bishop of the Inala Ward. His time as bishop was short because after two years he was called to serve on the high council.
In those days, the geographic area of the stake was huge, covering much of the southeast of Queensland around Brisbane — north to Nambour, south to the Gold Coast, and west to Toowoomba. In 1975, John was called as president of the Brisbane Australia Stake.
President Jeffrey noticed how far some members had to travel to get to church each week, so he took a map and drew an 8 km radius around each congregation. He then worked with Church physical facility authorities in Sydney to create branches in the areas lying within those circles. Those branches met in school halls until they were strong enough to qualify for a chapel. This meant that members didn’t have to drive as far to attend Church meetings. This direction paved the way for the future growth of membership in Queensland.
In 1978, just three years after his call as the Brisbane Stake president, John recommended the stake be divided. He then became the president of the new Brisbane Australia South Stake. Only three years after that, in 1981, another stake was created and called the Brisbane Australia West Stake.
Today there are 12 stakes in the greater Brisbane area.
On top of his Church leadership service, John has also had vast experience with Church employment, he has been a coordinator for Seminaries and Institutes, and he was the Australia and Pacific Area director for the Church Educational System.
He went from new convert to branch president (Townsville Branch), to district president (Townsville District), to bishop (Inala Ward), stake president (multiple stakes), and then mission president (Winnipeg Canada). John also served as a regional representative (now known as Area Seventy), as the first president of the Brisbane Australia Temple, and as executive secretary to the Pacific Area Presidency.
“The Lord was very kind to me, putting me in positions where I was given great gospel experiences and training by the General Authorities,” John says. “Also, I was hired by Seminaries and Institutes because I loved to read and study the scriptures. Now in retirement I am more focused on efforts to . . . live like the Saviour taught.”
John’s wife, Lois Gay Tucker, passed away on 19 June 2014. They had six daughters and one son: Jennifer, Elizabeth, Karen, Anita, Lynis, Larissa and David. “I can bear testimony of the value of having a great helpmeet, having 57 years together we helped each other through many challenging experiences, including times with very little money to feed our family, but we always paid our tithing, and we survived those times with the Lord’s help . . . and we knew He would [help] because of our faith in Him.”
John, now 87, lives in Redland Bay in Brisbane Australia Cleveland Stake. He continues to be a faithful servant of the Lord and testifies of the gospel that continues to sustain him: “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is true, and we have a living prophet as His mouthpiece here on Earth, even President Russell M. Nelson!”

Many years ago I spoke in an ancient theater in Ephesus. Bright sunlight flooded the ground where the Apostle Paul had stood to preach. My topic was Paul, the Apostle called of God.
The audience was hundreds of Latter-day Saints. They were arranged on the rows of stone benches the Ephesians had sat upon more than a millennium before. Among them were two living Apostles, Elder Mark E. Petersen and Elder James E. Faust.
As you can imagine, I had prepared carefully. I had read the Acts of the Apostles and the epistles, both those of Paul and his fellow Apostles. I had read and pondered Paul’s Epistle to the Ephesians.
I tried my best to honor Paul and his office. After the talk a number of people said kind things. Both of the living Apostles were generous in their comments. But later Elder Faust took me aside and, with a smile and with softness in his voice, said, “That was a good talk. But you left out the most important thing you could have said.”
I asked him what that was. Weeks later he consented to tell me. His answer has been teaching me ever since.
He said that I could have told the people that if the Saints who heard Paul had possessed a testimony of the value and the power of the keys he held, perhaps the Apostles would not have had to be taken from the earth.
That sent me back to Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. I could see that Paul wanted the people to feel the value of the chain of priesthood keys reaching from the Lord through His Apostles to them, the members of the Lord’s Church. Paul was trying to build a testimony of those keys.

I want to introduce my subject this morning by telling you of a very simple event that happened to me 32 years ago during the spring semester of my junior year here at BYU.
I was taking a class in a large amphitheater classroom. Entering the classroom on one of those first days of the semester, I sat in the very back, far from the professor. As he began writing on the blackboard, and as those around me began taking notes, I realized that I could not see what they could see on the chalkboard. Up until that very moment I had not imagined that I needed glasses. I had not anticipated glasses in my future.
But that experience led me to the optometrist and to a pair of glasses. Suddenly my world improved immensely. I could see many things that I had not been seeing for some time. The world became much more alive for me. I remember asking myself, “Why didn’t I realize before that I needed glasses? How could I have not known that I was not seeing?”

One illustration of the difficulty of translation that might be appropriate occurred in a non-Church setting, but I think you can appreciate this. It was a meeting in Vienna, Austria, between Krushchev and President Kennedy. During the course of this meeting, through interpreters, President Kennedy was stressing the fact that Mr. Krushchev of Russia should not miscalculate the American will. As President Kennedy would stress, “Don’t miscalculate our will,” Mr. Khrushchev would flush and would respond rather negatively. At the end of the conference, President Kennedy was not satisfied with the progress that had been made, and so they went back through the interpretation script to find out what might have happened. It occurred to them, as they reviewed what had occurred, that the person who had done the interpreting from English into Russian had interpreted the term miscalculate as “You dumbbell, you could not add two and two and get four.”

We must be very careful not to translate just word to word, but it must be feeling to feeling.

I can’t remember the exact day I crumbled, but I do remember how I felt. I was sitting in seminary. For some reason, I didn’t want to raise my hand to answer a question. Pretty soon, I didn’t feel I knew the answers, whether in seminary, Sunday school, or Young Women meetings. Suddenly, I had no confidence in my knowledge of the gospel.
I still knew the Church was true, but I felt I was doing something wrong. I judged myself harshly and didn’t feel worthy to pray. I started to panic. I felt horrible inside, all the time. It was like I was sick and hadn’t the slightest idea what the cure was, because I didn’t know what was wrong. I hadn’t committed any serious sin or transgression, and my senior year of high school had started off really great. So what in the world was the matter with me?
These feelings continued for a couple of months, and before I knew it, it was time for October 2014 general conference. I was looking forward to my mother’s October conference chili with corn chips, but my mind was all over the place. One of my teachers at church had challenged us to write out questions we were seeking answers for and to then listen for the answers in conference. Ten minutes before the Saturday morning session was to begin, I finally sat down with my computer and started typing up questions I had. I still felt sick and still didn’t know why.
Conference began, and just as I had for the previous few years, I paid attention to the speakers and took notes, but I still didn’t know what I was looking for.
During the hymn halfway through the Saturday afternoon session, Mom got the chili out and Dad and I got up to fill our bowls, pile on the corn chips, and get back to the couch before the song ended. For some reason I was hesitant to get up, but I was hungry. In the kitchen, as I contemplated the right chili-to-corn chip ratio, I felt like I needed to go back. I quickly grabbed a bowl and was about to get a spoon when I felt as though the Holy Ghost jolted me and said, “Sit down on the couch.” I dropped my bowl on the counter and got to the couch in two strides. I pulled my laptop onto my lap just as Elder Klebingat began speaking.
His first sentence: “On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your spiritual confidence before God?”1
My jaw dropped. Elder Klebingat was through the first paragraph of his talk before I actually digested the fact that he was saying exactly what I needed to hear. Stunned, I vigorously began typing notes on my computer. Elder Klebingat had accurately diagnosed me: my spiritual confidence was a -50. Then he proceeded to prescribe a cure for my sickness.
The Lord was the only one who knew what I needed, and He was the only one who knew when Elder Klebingat would be speaking (at the precise moment my corn chips would be calling to me). I am so glad I sat down and listened.
So, now that I was on the road to recovering my spiritual confidence, I had a new question: why had my spiritual confidence crumbled in the first place? I had seen a teaser on a website about how a dark chapter in my nation became a time to reinvent itself. How can a dark time bring about rejuvenation? It seemed a little paradoxical, but it brought to mind a scripture from Ether 12:27: “And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”
Hmm. “Weak things become strong.” OK, I’m seeing a pattern here.
I hadn’t seen this time of spiritual panic coming. I had been scared and hadn’t known what was going on or how to fix it. But because of Elder Klebingat’s diagnosis and prescribed cure, I now study my scriptures for 30 minutes every day. I am expanding my knowledge of the Savior’s Atonement, and I see trials and challenges in a completely different light. As Elder Klebingat said in his talk:
“When these trials come, the adversary’s minions begin broadcasting that you did something wrong, that this is a punishment, a sign that Heavenly Father does not love you. Ignore that! Instead, try to force a smile, gaze heavenward, and say, ‘I understand, Lord. I know what this is. A time to prove myself, isn’t it?’ Then partner with Him to endure well to the end. Spiritual confidence increases when you accept that often trials and tribulations are allowed to come into [your life] because of what [you] are doing right.”2
Before this experience I felt like I knew the gospel. But now I realize that I understand that this gospel is true because I have tested it. I have trusted it. And by so doing, I opened my heart to Heavenly Father. He has kept His promises: He has “manifest[ed] the truth of it unto [me] by the power of the Holy Ghost” (Moroni 10:4). I know Heavenly Father has a plan for me. I know He has a plan for you. Don’t be afraid to find out what it is.

When I opened my mission call, I was surprised to see that I had been assigned to the Mexico Veracruz Mission. My family had lived in Veracruz when I was born, and most of my extended family lives there. We are the only members of the Church in our family, so I was excited at the thought of having the opportunity to share the gospel with my relatives.
However, once there, I never served in an area near my relatives. I gave their addresses to my companions so they could visit them.
Fifteen months into my mission, I began having knee problems. My knee hurt a lot and at times the pain was unbearable. When I went to the doctor, his diagnosis was that surgery was the only solution. That meant that I would be returning home early. I couldn’t believe that this was happening; I had only three months left on my mission.
I decided to turn to the Lord to ask for comfort and, if possible, a miracle. In answer to my prayer, I felt deep relief in my heart. My mission president’s wife encouraged me with sincere motherly love to return home to recover, and I wrote my family to notify them that I would be coming home in two weeks.
After that, I had an interview with my mission president. He told me that my mother had contacted him and given him an option: She could come to Veracruz to care for me in the home of an aunt and uncle of mine during my recovery, since I would have to cease missionary activities for a while. My president told me that it might be a feasible option but that he would have to ask for permission.
When I found out later that permission had been granted, I felt my heart leap with excitement—I could stay and finish my mission! I said a prayer of thanksgiving.
On the day of the surgery, my mission president told me, “Sister Gómez, you need to find out why the Lord allowed you to stay in Veracruz.” From that moment on, I was set on finding out the reason.
That same day, my mother, who had arrived in Veracruz, told me, “Your Mamá Lita (my paternal grandmother) is coming to the hospital to see you. This would be a good opportunity to ask her about your ancestors.”
“What a great idea!” I thought. I couldn’t wait to ask my relatives about my ancestors. Mamá Lita asked me about what it meant to be a missionary. I taught her about the Restoration and then talked to her about the plan of salvation, since my grandfather—her husband—had died a few years back. Then came a question I’d been hoping she would ask: “Will I be able to see my sweetheart again?”
Her question filled me with joy, and I answered, “Of course you will!” Her eyes glistened. It was wonderful to share that eternal truth with her. More questions came, all of them focused on the plan of salvation. In turn, I asked her the questions I had about my family so I could fill out my family tree. I felt how the Spirit enabled her to gain an understanding of the plan of salvation.
Later, as I visited the rest of my relatives, I talked with my maternal grandmother, who helped me find more family names. I was also able to share the gospel with all those we visited.
I realized why God had allowed me to first go to Veracruz on my mission and then to stay there after my surgery. I returned to my mission with a deep love for family history. Thanks to my mother’s tender care, I was able to finish my mission.

As one example, Sophia remembers a time when she was approaching a jump at high speed. She felt a distinct impression that she needed to get herself into better positioning. “In motocross, we have to be squeezing the bike with our knees. We need to keep the balls of our feet on the pegs and crouch low with our head just above the handlebars.”

Cruising in an upright position, on the other hand, is a recipe for disaster.

After she received the prompting, she didn’t hesitate. She adjusted her body position. Immediately afterward, she had a serious problem with the landing on the jump. It should’ve been a crash for sure. However, because she’d listened to inspiration and improved her positioning, she was able to absorb the shock. “Instead of crashing, I bounced with the bike.”

A couple of years ago, in a tightly contested football game that came down to the last play on a rival team’s home field, Coach Sitake quietly did something that speaks to his character. Before the game ended, the opposing team prematurely stormed the field, only to be told by game officials to get back off the field so the final play could take place. The final play nearly swung the game in BYU’s favor but fell just short.

As the home-team student section stormed the field once again, many of the fans were charged with an emotion that I call “athletic-induced anger.” The situation became somewhat dangerous for players and coaches who found themselves in a wave of charging fans. As opposing fans approached Kalani to scream and jeer in his face, he invited them to take selfie photos with him. This small, humble act in a moment of high emotion instantly melted away the anger. Kalani’s reaction to the incident neutralized the entire situation. Rather than demeaning our coach, opposing fans swarmed him to take selfies. BYU runs deep for Kalani Sitake. Cougar Nation is thankful Kalani is with us!

Justina Mumcy De’Beauville was raised as an only child in a strong countryside community and earned the nickname “country girl” because of her weekly trips to town, where she sold produce at the city market. One fateful day, Clayton John De’Beauville, a city boy bus driver, picked her up, and they fell in love at first sight. A cherished memory, held dear by Sister De’Beauville, focused on a sweet gesture from Brother De’Beauville. He decided to purchase her entire daily produce, allowing them to spend more time together that day. It is still a mystery what he did with that abundance of vegetables. This act of kindness has been the foundation of their enduring love and affection.

I would like to share one such experience that happened while I was serving on my mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

My missionary companion and I were walking through a neighborhood to reach another part of the city. It was a quiet street with several homes.

At one of the houses, I noticed two young women about our age watching us and talking to each other on their front porch. We were across the street walking down the sidewalk. A thought came into my mind that we should go visit with them and I stopped walking, but I quickly dismissed it thinking that we needed to get to our other destination, and I continued on.

We were now a little farther past their home and again I felt impressed to go back and speak with them. I turned around and started walking back, but then quickly convinced myself again that we shouldn’t. So, I turned around and kept walking. At this point, my companion was so confused at what I was doing as I hadn’t said a word. I then had a very strong third impression and turned around again and told my companion that we needed to go back.

When we reached the porch, we introduced ourselves. We discussed the doctrine of eternal families for a little while, but I didn’t really feel that our conversation made much of an impact.

Then, one of the girls said she needed to grab a few things for work and quickly went inside the house. Immediately, the Spirit rushed in and told me to say several things to the sister who was still on the porch. I testified she was a daughter of our Heavenly Father and He knew and loved her so much. I also testified that she knew what she needed to do to follow Him.

I do not remember the other things, but I do remember the overwhelming love that our Heavenly Father had for her and that He knew her personally to send us that day.

In June 1830 the prophet Joseph Smith’s brother, Samuel, set out on the first missionary journey for the Church. He took with him several copies of the Book of Mormon, but was unsuccessful in his attempts to sell them. He returned home disappointed and discouraged, feeling that his work had proved to be fruitless.

Samuel Smith felt he had been a failure, but the one Book of Mormon he managed to give away made its way into the hands of Brigham Young, who passed it to Heber C Kimball. We too can see amazing results if we but try.

One of grandfather’s finest qualities, and the one that I’d like to make the focus of this article, was his ability to forgive. Examples from his journal are many. Reading them has not only built up our love and respect for him, but it has given my family a greater desire and determination to live this same principle.
In grandfather’s journal dated September 28, 1906, we find the following: “As I piled my hay and did my work, I took twelve piles and stuck over the fence to my neighbor, as they had no hay for the horse and cows; and we could see a little gone from our area the night before.” He declared, “I would rather give them a little than have them steal.”
The Savior taught us this principle of forgiving and how important it is in our lives. He said: “Wherefore, I say unto you, that ye ought to forgive one another; for he that forgiveth not his brother his trespasses standeth condemned before the Lord; for there remaineth in him the greater sin.
“I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men.
“And ye ought to say in your hearts—Let God judge between me and thee, and reward thee according to thy deeds.” (D&C 64:9–11.)
When we forgive men in our hearts and let the Lord judge the acts of men, we create a condition whereby men can live in peace with one another. Forgiving others frees us of ill feelings toward them. It lifts the burden of grudges from our heads, and it puts us in a position of seeking forgiveness from the Lord for our own sins. A spirit of forgiveness enables us to remain in control of our thoughts, words, and actions. An attitude of forgiveness generates a feeling of peace and optimism about life. Being forgiving helps us to keep from being easily offended, and we are less likely to judge the intentions of others in a negative way. We are also ready to accept correction and criticism ourselves. In times when we may be wronged or mistreated, we can, in the spirit of love and peace, work out solutions to the problems. We can determine a positive course of action. If an honorable agreement cannot be reached, the attitude of forgiveness provides us the strength to turn the other cheek in the spirit of love.
On one occasion some men were constructing a watering gate in a canal on grandfather’s farm. He noticed that they were placing the gate in the wrong location. He tried to persuade them to put the gate in a location that they had originally agreed upon. The foreman became angry. He said, “Johansen, that will be enough from you. We’re going to do just as we please.” Grandfather replied, “And so will all robbers.” Then he began to sing the words of a Danish song that begins, “Be careful what you say.” These words were a reminder to him to remain forgiving. The men continued to build the watering gate, but the gate did grandfather very little good. He never mentioned the wrong that these men had done to him, but he often recorded how he had to pray for rain because he could get so little water from the canal. He also records that the rain came.
Yes, prayer is a very important part of the spirit of forgiveness. We must ask the Lord to forgive those who offend us and soften our hearts toward them. Through prayer we may find the strength to forgive others and leave their judging in the hands of the Lord. We also receive comfort and direction for our own lives. Grandfather Johansen’s life has demonstrated the value of living the principles of forgiveness and obedience. His faith in the Lord enabled him to live a full and happy life, a life which has left his posterity a rich spiritual heritage. I am grateful to him and to my Heavenly Father that my family are the beneficiaries of that righteous man.