Gospel Story Finder

One winter night Janelle heard a knock on the door. She and Mom went to see who it was. Three people from the neighborhood stood on the porch. They played the guitar and sang Christmas carols. They were also collecting money to help sick children in the hospital.
Mom wanted to give them money. But she had nothing to give them! Janelle had an idea. She ran to her room and found her jar of coins. She had been saving them for a long time. The coins clinked as she ran back to the door.
“Here!” she said. “You can have my money!”
She dumped the coins into their box. The people said thank you and left. They were very happy. Janelle was happy too.
Then she looked at her empty jar. She sat down and started to cry. She had given them all her money. There was nothing left!
Mom sat down. She put her arm around Janelle.
“I’m proud of you,” Mom said. “That money will help sick children get better.”
“But, Mom!” Janelle said. “I was saving that money to buy you a Christmas present. Now I don’t have anything to give you!”
Mom smiled. “You gave me the best present of all.”
“I did?” Janelle asked.
Mom nodded. “Not all gifts come in a box. You did what Jesus would do. You helped someone who really needed it. That’s what Christmas is all about!”
Mom gave Janelle a big hug. Janelle was glad she could help people at Christmastime.

The reality of the spirit as an eternal entity was taught forcefully to me as I read the journal of my grandfather A.C. Nelson, whom I did not meet in this life. He died when my father was in high school. But from my reading and from discussions with my dear father and mother, who are here with us today, I have learned to love and respect Grandfather. He served as superintendent of public instruction in this state and was a close friend and protégé of Karl G. Maeser. On April 6, 1891, about three months after the death of his father, he had what he recorded as a “strange dream or vision.” His deceased father appeared to him. Grandfather asked his father what he was doing. His father smiled and said, “My son, I have been traveling together with Apostle Erastus Snow ever since I died—that is, since three days after I died, when I received the commission to preach the gospel. You cannot imagine, my son how many spirits there are in the spirit world that have not yet received the gospel, but many are receiving it, and a great work is being accomplished.” Much more was said as recorded in Grandfather’s journal. Then he concluded by saying, “Never do anything that will displease God. Oh, what a blessing is the gospel! My son, be a good boy . . . Goodbye.”

Develop the habit of singing, or if this is not pleasant, of whistling. Singing to one’s self brings less comment and question than talking to one’s self! My father once came home from a deer hunt empty-handed, but his heart was renewed and his spirit lifted because, as he recounted with great appreciation, one of his companions had frightened the deer away by always singing trumpet-voiced as he walked through pines and quaking aspen. Father was more enriched by the mirth of the song than he would have been by the meat of the venison.

Some months ago I was driving somewhere with my son Cameron. Cameron is 11 years old, and he likes to talk. In spite of wonderful Mormon ads on parental listening, unfortunately I am often more aware that Cameron is talking than I actually understand what he is saying. As I tried to refocus on what he was saying, he mentioned a name. I asked, "Who is that?" He replied with considerable emphasis and surprise, "He is my Primary teacher." I felt that I was thankful for this man’s help in teaching my son, yet I hadn’t revealed it by my behavior. How easy it would have been to have previously asked my son about his Primary class and learned his teacher’s name. I clearly failed the implicit quiz given to me by my son.

It is not always immediately apparent to us or to others what is in our hearts. There can be insensitivities even when our hearts are in the right place, not to mention those that are truly born of ingratitude. Neither are particularly pretty. As I reflected on which of these was correct regarding Cameron’s teacher, my mind was drawn to an experience that looms large in my early married life. When I was in graduate school, my wife, Sue, was in a fairly serious car accident. A young man stole his aunt’s car and drove it through a red light, hitting my wife and our two small daughters in our Volkswagen bug. My wife can verify that I was a little too anxious, after hearing that they were all well, to move on to inquire about the condition of the car, which was only a few years old. As it turned out, it was totaled.

Those who know me well are probably amused or even a little concerned at hearing this story, because I have always been a bit too captivated by machinery. Perhaps this is a legacy of my rural heritage. However, this experience gave me a vivid insight: one can build relationships by expressing love and gratitude or one can diminish them by silence or by expressing ingratitude.

Before I do so, however, I would like to let you know my own story. Those who know me know I’m generally up-beat. I have down days, like anyone, and I get angry like anyone. Sometimes I’m hopeful, and sometimes I’m a complainer. But generally, I have been able to shrug things off easily at most points in my life. I tend to make bad jokes as often as possible. I know more chicken and road jokes than most of you have had hot meals. But after the birth of my fourth child, it wasn’t just my wife who got the baby blues. Suddenly I was in the midst of the deepest darkness I had ever known. Some of that experience doesn’t bear relating here, but it was more than simply a bad day or two. I did not honestly know how I would get through it. There was a long stretch where I felt more often than not nothing. There were other times when I would wake in despair each day and claw my way through a world in which I did not recognize hope. For someone who tries however haltingly and imperfectly to live according to the spirit of the Lord, I was completely unsure how to function because it was hard to feel that sprit. And what was worse, I didn’t know what was causing this. A lack of sleep, yes, and other stresses may have triggered it, but I didn’t understand why my mind and heart were acting in this way. I decided to seek help, but finding a counselor was difficult, and when I did find places to go, I didn’t find someone who understood what I was encountering. And the longer this went on, the harder it was to continue. If you’ve ever closed your eyes and tried to walk, you may know that each step gets more difficult to take, because you have less surety of what’s in front of you. I felt soon as if I did not know what steps to take.

And this leads me to my first suggestion, which is when the lights go out, keep moving, especially if you are prepared. In his famous dream, Lehi sees “numberless concourses of people, many of whom were pressing forward, that they might obtain the path which led to the tree by which I stood.” But the journey soon becomes less than pleasant, and “there arose a mist of darkness, yea even an exceedingly great mist of darkness, insomuch that they who had commenced in the path did lose their way.” When the darkness comes, it becomes very easy to just wander, and that can be dangerous, physically and spiritually. Life does not stop when you encounter darkness while you look to extricate yourself, and Satan knows that the voices of temptation can lure you away from the path especially easily at those times. But “others” were not lost. They “came forth and caught hold of the end of the rod of iron and they did press forward through the mist of darkness.”

Brothers and sisters, I hope that when you encounter darkness that you are holding to that rod, and I hope that you keep your grip as you press forward. I can tell you that when darkness descended for me, I had little light to go on to keep pressing forward, but what led me through the mists was doing the things I had been doing—following the path I had been following and clinging to the rod that I had clung to to that point. I kept going to my classes and teaching, even when my heart was numb to it. I kept following the commandments even at those times when I didn’t get the warm feelings our primary teachers told us would be there when we did good things. And I kept fulfilling my duties to my family, even when I didn’t feel much in the way of overwhelming love when I looked at my children. Why did I do this? Because faith meant telling myself that last week I knew what was right. I had read the scriptures, and even if I didn’t feel it right now, I knew what was right because I had had the Lord reveal it to my heart in times past, and I walked on. I didn’t have new direction from the Lord, but his directions hadn’t changed. So I kept following the light I knew of. I often say that even if you don’t care now, you may in a week or two. Keep on doing what you know you need to do. And among those things was to keep reading the scriptures. Remind yourself of the lessons you have learned in the past and the things that have been important to you. Even when things aren’t so dark, this is wise. We are creatures that live in time, and we forget. Keep reminding yourself why you do what you do, or others will try to lure you into doing other things. Hold, brothers and sisters, to the rod.

We met Julian and Carmen a few months after they were baptized when we visited their home with President Chaverri and the same missionaries who had taught and baptized them. We sat on their front porch, listening to their amazing conversion story as the rain sprinkled around us.
The Spirit was strong as Julian retold his story. Shortly before their baptism, Julian told the elders about a dream he had the night before that first day they met. In his dream, two young men in white shirts walked down his street. When they passed his house, he went out to invite them in and fed them yuca. He thought the dream strange but forgot about it until he saw these young men in their white shirts walking down his street just as they had in his dream. As he learned about the gospel of Jesus Christ, he knew the dream was a significant sign from God, and he felt grateful he had followed the prompting to invite them in for yuca.

“The toughest part about learning the bagpipes was sticking it out,” says Austin, who has been playing for four years. Tyler Abeyta, a former Nauvoo band member currently serving a mission in Sacramento, California, agrees. “I was 13, and after a month of trying to learn the bagpipes, I quit. My good friend was also taking lessons, and he encouraged me to start again. I knew with all my heart if I were to even come close to learning the pipes, I would need the help of my Heavenly Father. So I kneeled down one night. I asked Him for His help and His blessing to be upon me as I continued to learn. When I started again, I definitely knew that the Spirit was with me and helped me along the way.”

One very memorable day we were in the temple doing some work for the dead, and I was exhausted, because we had been there for the whole day. When I got up to leave, one of the temple workers asked me to do just one more, so I agreed and finally finished. When I got outside the most amazing thing happened, when I got to my husband, who was already outside waiting for me, fireworks started going off. We both stood there and watched with everyone else who said that they never had that happen. I took that as a sign to mean that our Heavenly Father and those waiting were very happy and pleased with the work we had just done.

We had many Muslim friends in Turkey-most of whom did not speak English. One was the brother of the real estate agent who helped us find apartments for a set of our Elders and Couples. Zekeriya, the brother of our real estate agent, ran a small, humble hardware store. We would have long conversations with him about Gospel values. We would speak in our broken Turkish and he would help us with our language. One day he asked my wife to sing to him-she got me to join her. We sang to him, “I Am a Child of God” in English. He liked the tune, although he did not understand the words; however, we could see he was touched by the Spirit of this beloved song. The next time we visited him we took the Turkish lyrics. After reading over the lyrics, he looked up and with a smile on his face said, “Problem!” The word “problem,” by the way, is the same in Turkish and English.

We have lived in Park City, Utah, for over 20 years. Park City was the site of the 2002 Winter Olympics and is home to three world-class ski resorts. It’s a big time ski town. My favorite area is Deer Valley. On a powder day I know where to go to find first tracks in untouched snow. But when we were new to town I had to learn my way around the mountain.
I remember the first time I skied one particular run called The Ruins of Pompeii. It’s a double black diamond. It starts off steep and then in the middle it has an even steeper section. My first time down I wasn’t sure what was ahead so I was skiing carefully. When I came to the steep section I stopped to catch my breath and look down the slope to pick out my line. While I was standing there looking over the run, I heard another skier approaching. He was obviously a good skier and was skiing fast. When he came to the steep section he let out a whoop, caught a little air and went over the edge. I watched him do some nice turns and then ski out of sight. I was impressed.
I pushed off and carefully navigated the steep section with five or six turns. Then I stopped again and looked back up the slope. I was surprised at how much easier it looked from the bottom, especially now that I had completed it. Pleased with myself I completed the run and jumped on the lift.
Returning to the Ruins of Pompeii again I skied the upper section feeling pretty good. When the steep section came in sight I noticed a skier stopped where I had been, peering over the edge. So what do you think I did? Exactly. I picked up a little speed, let out a whoop, caught a very little air, and skied right over the edge. I laid down my turns and continued out of sight.
What was the difference between the two runs for me? Confidence. The first experience gave me confidence to do much better the second time down. And that’s what I want to talk about today. Confidence.

When it comes to community service projects, the young men and women from the Reno Nevada North Stake are always willing to pitch in. They recently helped on two separate projects and are making quite a name for LDS youth among local community leaders.
One project involved participation in Reno’s annual “Adopt a Park Day.” The LDS youth selected Idlewild Park, the city’s largest, and spent the day painting picnic tables, varnishing bleachers, weeding, picking up trash, sweeping parking lots, and spreading sand on the playground.
The other project involved the stake Young Women. They spent a day helping the Committee to Aid Abused Women, and the children of those women. They made toys for the children and provided a party for them. They also collected items needed by the mothers, such as blankets, dishes, and clothing.

Lincoln lived with his family in Santiago, Chile, until his mother died when he was 10. Afterward, he lived with his aunt and uncle. When Lincoln was 18, Elder Barton and Elder Bentley came to his aunt and uncle’s home. Lincoln’s aunt and grandmother immediately accepted the gospel, but Lincoln avoided the missionaries. One Sunday morning, his normally gentle grandmother came to his room, ripped the quilt off his bed, and told him he was going to church with them. Shocked by his grandmother’s unusual behavior and out of respect for her, he got up and went to church. That day he felt something new and powerful within his soul that changed his life. He soon became one of the Church’s first converts in Chile.

Now, Connie and I are completely thrilled to be here with you! When we landed at the airport last Monday, we somehow made our way to the curb with enough luggage to open a luggage store, and dialed the phone number of the young couple who was going to give us a ride here to campus and told them that we had arrived.

A few minutes later, Alge and Mika pulled up. They got out of the van with big smiles and bright eyes! They were incredibly happy and genuinely welcoming. Only Connie and I soon discovered that their joy had little to do with us, and much more to do with the fact that they had just been married three weeks ago! Alge and Mika, we love you.

We became fast friends as all of you who know them are and learned that Alge is from Curicau and Mika is from Japan. Mika graduated last year in social work and Alge is nearly finished with a degree in Business Management. We laughed together as we shared stories of how we met, and how Alge proposed. And Connie and I now know that Alge is a romantic!

Somehow our conversation turned to the Lord’s miracles in our lives and we heard them teach us that one of the ways we receive miracles from the Lord is by always being willing to act when the Lord nudges us. We agreed that we should always be ready to change course whenever the Lord taps us on the shoulder or prompts us to act.

Alge is a baseball player who had high hopes to play college baseball before feeling the Lord’s nudging to shift those plans and attend BYU–Hawaii. When the Lord tapped him on the shoulder Alge listened. He found himself in a class with a young smart student from Japan as his mentor. He soon learned that her name was Mika and that was the beginning of the miracle. Imagine if Alge had decided that baseball was more important than the Lord’s nudging and hadn't followed when the Lord tapped him on the shoulder. During our simple car ride, down a two-lane highway from the airport to Laie, as we laughed and shared stories, we all agreed that if we will move when the Lord nudges us, miracles will follow.

In 1878 President John Taylor called Saints to settle in the southern part of the state of Colorado in the United States. Early in the 1900s, Pa moved our family to that desolate land.
Our new farm was littered with rocks. Before we could till the ground, we had to clear the rocks away. Ma and I hauled the small rocks away in a wheelbarrow, but there was only one way to remove the boulders—blow them up with dynamite.
When all the small rocks were gone and it was time to start on the big ones, Pa dug under each one as far as he could and placed the dynamite underneath. He carefully set the dynamite in just the right places so the blast would tear the boulders completely apart.
Finally everything was ready for Pa to light the fuse. Mama made sure we children were out of danger.
Boom!
The first boulder exploded into hundreds of fragments and a cloud of dust. When the dust settled, the boulder had disappeared. All that was left was a hole in the ground and many smaller rocks. Now it was my job to pick up the pieces of rock and fill the hole with dirt.
We repeated the process; Pa lit the dynamite and I cleared away the shattered rock. After the third explosion, I was growing tired of picking up rocks and wanted to do the “real” work—lighting the dynamite. I took a few steps toward Pa.
“Willard, stay back!” my mother called. I scowled. At nine, I was the oldest child and believed I was old enough to help.
As I started back to the house, I was filled with a sense of danger. A whispering in my heart warned me that something was wrong.
I didn’t understand. I wasn’t in any danger. I was far away from the blasting. Certain that I had imagined the warning, I concentrated on what Pa was doing. Maybe he would see that I was nearly grown and ready to work alongside him.
The feeling of danger grew.
I recalled the promise my father had made when he confirmed me a member of the Church: “I bless you with the power of discernment. Listen to the Spirit. It will guide you and protect you from harm.”
I tried to ignore the voice, but it wouldn’t be still. I could no longer pretend I didn’t hear the insistent whisper.
I bless you with the power of discernment.
The words were as clear now as they had been when Pa pronounced the blessing more than a year earlier. If I wasn’t in danger, maybe the voice was telling me that someone else was. Ma was hanging clothes on the line, my little sister pulling at her skirt. Then I realized I couldn’t see three-year-old Hyrum.
“Hyrum!” I shouted. “Hyrum!” Shading my eyes from the sun, I squinted into the distance. Then I saw him—heading toward the field, his chubby legs going as fast as he could make them.
I ran after him, praying and shouting all at the same time. “Pa!” I screamed, waving my arms to attract his attention.
His back was turned to me, and Pa couldn’t see or hear my warning—and he couldn’t see Hyrum toddling toward disaster.
I reached Hyrum just as the boulder exploded. Throwing my body over his, I shielded him the best I could. Sharp rock fragments rained down on me, hitting my head, back, and legs.
Hyrum began to squirm. “Heavy,” he said. “Get up.”
I rolled off. My body screamed with pain, but I didn’t care. Gently, I ran my hands over my little brother.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
He wiggled away from me and stood. His chin wobbled and his eyes filled with tears, but he wasn’t hurt. “Scared,” he said.
“I was scared too,” I said as I hugged him.
By then Pa had reached us. Tears tracked through the dirt and grime on his face. His big arms circled us, squeezing tight. “How did you know your brother was in danger?” he asked me.
I hesitated, not sure how to explain. “A voice told me something was wrong,” I said. “I didn’t pay attention at first, but it kept poking at me until I had to listen.” Then I confessed the part that stung my conscience. “If I had listened the first time, Hyrum wouldn’t have wandered away. He would never have been in danger.”
Pa laid his big hand on my shoulder. “But you did listen. That’s the important thing.” Pa took a deep breath. “That was a brave thing you did, Willard.”
“I prayed, Pa. I was praying so hard the words nearly choked me,” I told him.
“So was I. So was I.”
Ma and my little sister came running. Laughing and crying at the same time, Ma hugged me and Hyrum. Soon all of us were hugging and crying.
A sweet feeling of peace settled around my heart as I knelt by my bed that night. My prayers took longer than usual as I thanked Heavenly Father for the whisperings of the Spirit in my heart.

I experienced the blessing of this promise when Aaron and I lived in Virginia getting ready to go to Law school. One morning when I went out to check our mail I saw a lady on the other side of the street carrying a sewing machine towards the dumpsters. She looked Asian and I thought, maybe she’s Filipino. I called out to her and asked if she was going to throw the sewing machine away. She was looking at me funny and nodded yes.. Then she asked if I wanted it. She said she got a new one and didn’t need her old one. It was still in great condition so I asked for it. Judging by her accent, I asked if she was Chinese. She said yes and without thinking, I said “my husband speaks Chinese. He served as a missionary for our church for two years in Taiwan.” I saw her face light up when I said Aaron spoke Chinese and then a confused look crossed her face as she said “missionary?” I further explained that we were Mormons and when our young men turn 19, they go on missions to different places to share the Gospel of Jesus Christ. From then on Regina and I got together often so our sons could play. We became really good friends. She asked me a lot about the church and what I believe in but I never asked her to take the missionary discussions. I did invite her to church and she came a few times but then she started a laundromat business and got really busy. After a few months, I wondered to myself if I was just scared to ask her if she’d be willing to listen to the missionaries. So Aaron and I prayed about it and decided it’s time for me to ask her. On my way to her laundromat, I prayed for the strength and courage to make the invitation. When I got there, she was so excited to see me. She said “perfect timing, no costumers,” and when we sat down she said “May, I want to ask you something.” I thought she was going to ask me her usual questions about the church, but I was surprised to hear what came out of her mouth next. She said, “May, do you think I could join your church? And what should I do to get baptized?” At that moment, all my fears vanished and my heart was filled with gratitude to my Heavenly Father and love for my dear friend.

Perfect love casteth out all fears! Elder Dallin H. Oaks said, “The most effective missionaries, member and full-time, always act out of love.… I hope no person we approach with an invitation to hear the message of the restored gospel feels that we are acting out of any reason other than a genuine love for them and an unselfish desire to share something we know to be precious. If we lack this love for others, we should pray for it” (Sharing the Gospel, Ensign, Nov. 2001).

I know that as Aaron and I prayed for Regina, we both grew to love her and wanted so much for her to enjoy the blessings of the gospel of Jesus Christ. It was the love I had for my friend that helped me have the courage to go see her with the intention of inviting her. And in the end she beat me to it. While Regina was taking the missionary discussions she invited her nephew, who was staying with her, to join her learn more about the LDS church.
Aaron baptized Regina Au on June 1, 1997, and Regina’s nephew got baptized a week earlier.

In 1989, when I was called to the Philippine Islands to serve a mission, the main language of the Philippines—Tagalog—was not taught in the Provo Missionary Training Center. I arrived in the Philippines to a warm welcome by an English-speaking Filipina companion but understood virtually nothing that was said in Tagalog.
Although she translated the discussions for me and each thing I said, I was eager to learn the language. I asked her questions about the language over and over, and she never hesitated to help me. I gradually began to understand and speak a little Tagalog. About eight months into my mission, I could understand almost everything said in Tagalog, but I still spoke mainly English with a little Tagalog in nearly every sentence.
My companion and I visited a new convert, Sister Salvation, who, like many other converts, had become converted through her love of the Book of Mormon. She had eight children, with two still at home. She had lived through multiple typhoons that had destroyed or damaged her palm-leaf hut each time. She was a widow and over her lifetime had experienced the loss of three husbands.
One day we stopped by her home during a difficult time in her life. As she spoke in Tagalog, my mind was filled with answers to her concerns, all passages from the Book of Mormon. These were passages I had not previously memorized but had impacted me and now were coming to my mind word for word. The more she spoke, the more I longed to be able to communicate in Tagalog directly to her rather than through my companion. She finished talking, and I found myself talking to her, in fluent Tagalog, saying everything I had thought and felt prompted to say.
Tears flowed freely from her and my companion, in part because they knew they were witnessing a miracle. I spoke for about 20 minutes, nearly all my words coming word for word from the Book of Mormon in answer to her concerns. Words cannot describe what we felt that day.
After we left Sister Salvation, I reflected on what had just happened. I had been asked to speak in church that coming Sunday and thought, “I’ll just say some of what I said today now that I can speak Tagalog and quote passages from the Book of Mormon.” I recalled what I said but found that I couldn’t remember the passages word for word or the language! It was then that I realized how the Lord had given me “the gift of speaking with tongues” (Omni 1:25).
In the weeks that followed I continued to have similar experiences, though on a smaller scale. The language came to me more rapidly, and about 10 months into my mission I could speak the language fluently. I found that as I taught the gospel, passages of the Book of Mormon would come into my mind and heart to share with the people, in fulfillment of President Ezra Taft Benson’s powerful vision of missionary work (see sidebar).

When I was a child growing up and learning about life, I did not have the security of my father and mother telling me who I was, how I could find lasting happiness, and what would happen to me if I were to die. My parents did not have the gospel of Jesus Christ, so my childhood was very uncertain in many ways and often full of fear.
But in all the memories of my childhood, there is at least one of peace and joy. This is the memory of Christmas.
Christmastime was celebrated in the traditions and customs of my home country of Germany, and it was specifically for the children.
Four Sundays before Christmas Day, preparations for something holy and beautiful could be felt in our home. A little wreath with four candles on it was placed on the family table.
On the first Sunday, the first candle was lit. As a family we sat around the table, singing Christmas songs and preparing little gifts that each of us would give to each member of the family.
On the fourth Sunday, the last candle was lit, and expectations for the coming joyous events were growing extreme.
A Christmas tree did not appear in our home until December 24. On that day, we children had to stay outside, go on errands, and play by ourselves. I still remember how time seemed to not pass at all.
We children were taught that the Christmas tree and all of its glory and beauty, along with presents and food and cookies, came from the little Christ Child.
This lack of logic did not bother us children. We believed that there was a Christ-child person of a supernatural existence who cared for us in such a way that once a year He would come in person to fulfill all of our hopes and dreams.
In preparation, we cleaned the rooms where we slept. We put on our best clothes. We had our gifts ready to give. When the sun started to set on that special day, we were invited to get ready to enter the living room.
As was the custom, the doors to the living room had been locked because we children were not to go into that room. It became a place of great mystery. Once in a while we heard some rustling of papers, and once in a while the more courageous of us tried to peek in the keyhole—only to learn that the key was in it from the inside and the door was locked.
When Mother finally decided that we were clean, orderly, dressed, our hair groomed, and had our rooms in order, we were asked to listen carefully. Suddenly we heard a little bell ringing, and our hearts beat close to explosion. This was it! This was the moment when the doors were unlocked and we were allowed to go into the living room. And there it was—a Christmas tree standing from the floor to the ceiling! We became aware of its beautiful, fresh-cut smell and that it was glowing with candles. Our father, who happened to be already inside the room when we walked in, was watching it carefully so that nothing caught on fire.
The Christmas tree had many decorations that we as children would see only at Christmastime. In the center of the tree was a wax sculpture of a little Christ Child surrounded by glowing angels of gold paper and silk.
Our family gathered around the tree and sang four or five Christmas songs. Then we children were invited to find our own corner of presents, which had been covered by a blanket.
This Christmas Eve tradition developed in us powerful feelings of holiness, joy, love, gratitude, and security. These feelings, radiating from the symbols of the little wax figure of the Christ Child, which we saw only at Christmastime, had a great influence on all of us.

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.

It was the day of my first race and I had come early to register and stretch out. I planned to run the 5K alone because I wasn’t very fast.
Then I saw the first counselor in the bishopric of my college ward, an experienced runner, among the gathering crowd. Just as he recognized me, the officials called all runners to the starting line. He asked if I was running with anyone. I said I wasn’t and admitted that, although I had been training for two months, all I hoped for was to finish the race. He offered to run with me and I accepted. I was delighted to have some company.
The gun sounded and we started off slowly. He was by my side the entire time. We talked about future races, the upcoming term in school, and his past races. He told me how he had used the “Boy Scout pace” to finish his first few races. He would run 50 steps, then walk 25 steps, until he could run the entire distance. It sounded strange to me, but since he was a much more experienced runner, I agreed as I got tired to finish the race this way.
As we rounded the final corner it was obvious that we were the last two runners. I sprinted to the finish line. But my running companion must have sensed my fear of being the last runner because he stayed behind. When we met after the race, he smiled and congratulated me on a good run.
I was touched that he was willing to take last place, so I wouldn’t have to. My ward leader taught me a lot about humility, service, and the pure love of Christ during that short race. Moroni’s words now have greater meaning for me when I read, “And charity suffereth long, and is kind, and envieth not, and is not puffed up, seeketh not her own. … Wherefore … if ye have not charity, ye are nothing, for charity never faileth” (Moro. 7:45–46).

The building of this structure has been a bold undertaking. We worried about it. We prayed about it. We listened for the whisperings of the Spirit concerning it. And only when we felt the confirming voice of the Lord did we determine to go forward.
At the general conference of April 1996, I said: “I regret that many who wish to meet with us in the Tabernacle this morning are unable to get in. There are very many out on the grounds. This unique and remarkable hall, built by our pioneer forebears and dedicated to the worship of the Lord, comfortably seats about 6,000. Some of you seated on those hard benches for two hours may question the word comfortably.
“My heart reaches out to those who wish[ed] to get in and could not be accommodated. About a year ago I suggested to the Brethren that perhaps the time has come when we should study the feasibility of constructing another dedicated house of worship on a much larger scale that would accommodate three or four times the number who can be seated in this building” (in Conference Report, Apr. 1996, 88–89; or Ensign, May 1996, 65).
The vision of a new hall was clearly in mind. Various architectural schemes were studied. One was finally selected. It included a massive structure to seat 21,000 with a theater accommodating another thousand. There would be no interior pillars to obstruct the view of the speaker. There would be trees and running water on the roof.
Ground was broken July 24, 1997, the 150th anniversary of the arrival of the first pioneers in this valley. That was an historic event.
We did not know it at the time, but in 1853 Brigham Young, in speaking of temples, said, “The time will come when … we shall build … on the top, groves and fish ponds” (Deseret News Weekly, 30 Apr. 1853, 46).
In 1924 Elder James E. Talmage of the Council of the Twelve wrote, “I have long seen the possible erection of a great pavilion on the north side of the Tabernacle, seating perhaps twenty thousand people or even double that number, with amplifiers capable of making all hear the addresses given from the Tabernacle stands, and in addition to this a connection with the broadcasting system, with receivers in the several chapels or other meeting houses throughout the intermountain region” (journal of James E. Talmage, 29 Aug. 1924, Special Collections and Manuscripts, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah).
In 1940 the First Presidency and the Twelve had their architect draw up a plan of a building that would seat 19,000 and would stand where this building stands. That was 60 years ago. They thought about it, they talked about it, but finally they dropped the idea entirely.
These statements and actions were wonderfully prophetic. We knew nothing about them. All of them have come to our attention since we began this construction.
We have not built a temple with trees and fishponds on the roof. But on this edifice we have many trees and running water. Brigham Young may have foreseen this structure very near the temple. We have what Brother Talmage thought of, and much, much more. These services will not only be heard by all who are seated in the Conference Center, they will be carried by radio, television, and cable, and they will be transmitted by satellite to Europe, to Mexico, to South America. We reach far beyond the intermountain area of which Brother Talmage spoke. We reach beyond the confines of the United States and Canada. We essentially reach across the world.
This is truly a magnificent building. I know of no other comparable structure built primarily as a hall of worship that is so large and that will seat so many. It is beautiful in its design, in its appointments, and in its wonderful utility. It is built of reinforced concrete to the highest seismic codes required in this area. The concrete is faced with granite taken from the same quarry as was the stone for the temple. Both buildings even carry the blemishes of that granite.
The interior is beautiful and wonderfully impressive. It is huge, and it is constructed in such a way that nothing obstructs the view of the speaker. The carpets, the marble floors, the decorated walls, the handsome hardware, the wonderful wood all bespeak utility, with a touch of elegance.
It will prove to be a great addition to this city. Not only will our general conferences be held here, and some other religious meetings, but it will serve as a cultural center for the very best artistic presentations. We hope that those not of our faith will come here, experience the ambience of this beautiful place, and feel grateful for its presence. We thank all who have worked so hard to bring it to this stage—the architects, with whom we have had many meetings; the general contractors, three of whom have worked together; the subcontractors; and the hundreds of craftsmen who have labored here; the construction supervisor; the city building inspectors; and everyone who has had a hand in this project. They have all joined in a herculean effort so that we might meet together this morning. Many of them are with us, I am happy to say.
And now, my brothers and sisters, I would like to tell you about another feature of this wonderful building. If I get a little personal and even a little sentimental, I hope you will forgive me.
I love trees. When I was a boy we lived on a farm in the summer, a fruit farm. Every year at this season we planted trees. I think I have never missed a spring since I was married, except for two or three years when we were absent from the city, that I have not planted trees, at least one or two—fruit trees, shade trees, ornamental trees, and spruce, fir, and pine among the conifers. I love trees.
Well, some 36 years ago I planted a black walnut. It was in a crowded area where it grew straight and tall to get the sunlight. A year ago, for some reason it died. But walnut is a precious furniture wood. I called Brother Ben Banks of the Seventy, who, before giving his full time to the Church, was in the business of hardwood lumber. He brought his two sons, one a bishop and the other recently released as a bishop and who now run the business, to look at the tree. From all they could tell it was solid, good, and beautiful wood. One of them suggested that it would make a pulpit for this hall. The idea excited me. The tree was cut down and then cut into two heavy logs. Then followed the long process of drying, first naturally and then kiln drying. The logs were cut into boards at a sawmill in Salem, Utah. The boards were then taken to Fetzer’s woodworking plant, where expert craftsmen designed and built this magnificent pulpit with that wood.
The end product is beautiful. I wish all of you could examine it closely. It represents superb workmanship, and here I am speaking to you from the tree I grew in my backyard, where my children played and also grew.
It is an emotional thing for me. I have planted another black walnut or two. I will be long gone before they mature. When that day comes and this beautiful pulpit has grown old, perhaps one of them will do to make a replacement. To Elder Banks and his sons, Ben and Bradley, and to the skilled workers who have designed and built this, I offer my profound thanks for making it possible to have a small touch of mine in this great hall where the voices of prophets will go out to all the world in testimony of the Redeemer of mankind.
And so to all who have made this sacred edifice possible, and to all of you who are here assembled on this historic occasion, I express gratitude and appreciation, my love and my thanks for this day and this sacred and beautiful house of worship, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.