Gospel Story Finder

Let me close with my testimony, which takes us back to my first year at BYU. You see, while I changed quite a bit while there, some things I did not change like my study habits or my commitment to the gospel. So, in addition to having the most fun ever during that first year, I also received higher grades than I had in high school. I attribute that largely to my becoming competent in obeying the Honor Code and in keeping the Sabbath day holy. In fact, those were the best grades of my entire college career.

Of greater impact, President Spencer W. Kimball gave the first devotional that year. Before he even entered the Marriott Center, before I heard him speak, I received my own witness that this Church is led by prophets of God. Starting there, I've been able to receive a witness of every Church president since, as well as my current stake president, bishop, and even the current president of this university. It was also while a student at BYU in a simple prayer while I was preparing for my mission in my dorm room that I came to know for myself that Jesus Christ is indeed the Savior of the world and atoned for my sins.

A few years ago, a friend of mine was diagnosed with cancer. I wanted to do something to help, so I decided to grow out my hair and hold a sponsored haircut. My dad helped me arrange a free haircut and get the newspaper involved. I raised money for the children’s cancer ward at a local hospital and donated my hair to be made into a wig for a girl with cancer.
It felt great to do something for other children, especially something that would help a child feel more comfortable with a new wig.
I love serving people, and I think whenever we serve, we follow our Savior’s example and feel closer to Him.
Milla T., England

Darrell Bevell had a decision to make. It wasn’t an easy one.
Growing up as the son of a football coach, Darrell had always enjoyed sports, whether it was basketball, baseball, or football. If his parents wanted to keep him happy, they put a ball in his hand. Consequently, whatever sport was in season Darrell was playing it. Big ball in the winter, small ball in the spring, oval ball in the fall. He was a good basketball and baseball player, but it was football where he really excelled. And as a quarterback it had always been Darrell’s goal to earn a football scholarship to a major college.
“I had been recruited by Arizona State, Washington, New Mexico, BYU, Utah, and Wyoming. Most of the big schools in the West were interested in me,” says Darrell. “I had a really good junior year and played well in the first two games of my senior season when I broke a finger on my throwing hand. I missed the rest of the season, and most of the teams that were recruiting me backed off because of the injury.”
Darrell eventually signed to play football at Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff. It wasn’t exactly a big-time college football program as had been his plan, but school would be paid for and he was going to play college football.
“When I signed for that scholarship to play football, that was my dream. That’s what I always wanted to do. Right then I said, ‘Nope. I’m not going on a mission.’ I didn’t stop and really think about it because I got caught up in the excitement and everything.” That was the spring of 1988.
After signing with Northern Arizona, Darrell headed north from his home in Scottsdale, a suburb of Phoenix, to Flagstaff for two-a-day football practices in August. All he had on his mind was football. The mission thing had been decided, he thought.
“During those summer practices, I had been playing pretty well,” Darrell recalls. “But for some odd reason, right before the season started, it popped into my head, ‘Go on a mission.’ I knew I was about ready to turn 19, and I was still going to church every Sunday. But I again said, ‘Nope. I’m not going on a mission.’”
And that’s when an amazing turn of events took place. Almost immediately after deciding for the second time he wouldn’t go on a mission, Darrell began struggling on the field. “It was really amazing. A guy would go out for a short pattern and I’d throw the ball at his feet,” Darrell says. “So I called my dad and told him how this dang mission kept popping into my head and that I was starting to play terrible.”
Darrell’s father, Jim, told him to think about a mission and then pray about what he should do. “I did that, but I told the Lord in my prayer that I couldn’t quit the team because the season had already begun. I did promise the Lord that as soon as the season was over I’d begin thinking about a mission,” he recalls.
There was only one problem with that plan. When the season ended, Darrell didn’t think about a mission again. He had redshirted during his freshman season, so even though he was a sophomore in school, he was still only a freshman in football eligibility. And when the Lumberjacks’s starting quarterback the previous two years went down with an injury in spring practice, Darrell emerged as the number one quarterback. His dream had finally come true. He was going to be the starting quarterback for Northern Arizona University.
“After everything had been decided and I had talked to the coaches about being the starter, boom, going on a mission popped right back into my head,” says Darrell. “It had been a long time since I’d even thought about going on a mission, so I started praying about it. I kept praying and praying until I finally knew a mission is what I needed to do. I already knew the Church was true and that Joseph Smith was a prophet. I just decided I should go on a mission too.”
Now he had a problem of a different sort. For two years, Darrell had been concentrating on football and telling everybody he wasn’t going on a mission. Now that he had decided to serve the Lord, he had to tell his coach he wouldn’t be his quarterback. Driving to Flagstaff with his father to break the news to the coaching staff, Darrell had a good case of butterflies in his stomach. “When I got to his office, I was really nervous,” he says.
After the quarterback and the coach shook hands, Darrell said, “Coach, I’m going to go on a mission for my church. I’m not going to come back next season.”
Obviously, finding out your starting quarterback is leaving the team for two years isn’t the kind of news that helps a coach sleep well at night. After hearing Darrell’s decision, he began trying to dissuade him. Darrell listened as his coach told him how football players who go on missions lose their drive to play after they return home, and how he was throwing away a chance at stardom. “I was believing a lot of what he was saying. But I’ve always been the kind of person who makes a decision then sticks to it. That’s something I’ve always tried to do. Since I’d already made my decision to go, it wasn’t that hard, regardless of what the coach was saying.”
So long, Flagstaff, Arizona. Hello, Cleveland Ohio Mission.
“I had a great experience, and I loved my mission. The work was really going well there, and we had a lot of good missionaries,” Darrell says. “Of course, I wanted to play football after my mission, but I figured the Lord would take care of that. I had always wanted to play football, and somehow I knew it was going to work out.”
When Darrell’s mission was almost complete, he began thinking more and more about football. He knew the coaching staff at Northern Arizona had been fired, so he was an unknown commodity to the new coaching staff there. The great mystery in Darrell Bevell’s life was where he was going to go to college. Would he ever get to stand on the field and throw balls to open receivers? Would anybody offer him a scholarship?
One of his assistant coaches at Northern Arizona had taken a job as an assistant at the University of Wisconsin, and he remembered Darrell. In need of another quarterback in the program, the assistant got in contact with Darrell’s dad and asked if he thought his son would be interested in playing football in Wisconsin. Considering Wisconsin competes in one of the country’s top football conferences, and that it plays its home games in a 75,000-seat stadium, Darrell’s dad figured he might be able to persuade his son to check out the school.
After he finished his mission in October of 1991, Darrell made his recruiting trip to the University of Wisconsin and became convinced that was the place for him. “I basically decided then that I wanted to go there,” he says. He sat out the entire 1991 season and got ready for 1992.
During his freshman season of 1992, Darrell broke into the starting lineup in Wisconsin’s second game against Bowling Green State, and helped engineer a win over then number-12 ranked Ohio State in the Badgers’s fourth game. What made that victory all the better is that it was televised nationally by ESPN. Needless to say, a lot of people in Scottsdale, as well as those who knew him as Elder Bevell in Ohio, were crowded around their television sets. A shoulder injury hampered his play the remainder of the season, but he still completed 51 percent of his passes and threw for eight touchdowns. The future is extremely bright for Darrell as he prepares for his sophomore season. And the missionary work continues.
“It seems like every time an article is written about me, the first thing it says is my name and that I’m a member of the Church or that I’m a returned missionary,” he adds. “If I were at BYU, nobody would have cared. It would have been the same old story. But here at Wisconsin, not that many people know about the Church so it’s a bigger deal.”
A big deal just like Wisconsin’s victory over Ohio State. However, Darrell still knows that was just one game, and winning football games isn’t the most important thing in his life. “Beating Ohio State on national television was nice, but how long does that last?” he asks. “Seeing someone going into the waters of baptism is so great. I remember I was able to baptize a woman the day before I went home from my mission. I know that ordinance is something that is going to last forever. It’s something I’ll always remember. I don’t think that when we get into the afterlife someone’s going to say, ‘How about that one drive against Ohio State when you were five for five and you were able to pull it out on national television?’ But I might see that woman I baptized and have her come up to me and give me a big hug and say thank you very much.”
Maybe it’s a little strange to Wisconsin football fans that while most 23-year-olds have already graduated from college, Darrell Bevell is only a sophomore. Maybe Darrell’s teammates can’t understand why he would take two years off from football, not make a cent on his mission, and not be able to go to movies, watch TV, or date while he was a missionary. Maybe they never will understand. But Darrell does. In his life, he’s glad his job on the football field didn’t interfere with his call to the mission field.

Joseph F. Smith was 19 when he returned from his mission in Hawaii. As he traveled from California to his home in Utah, he was confronted one morning by a “wagonload of profane drunks … , shooting their guns, yelling wildly, and cursing the Mormons.” One of the drunks, “waving a pistol,” came toward him. Although Joseph “was terrified, he felt it would be unwise and useless to run … , and so he advanced toward the gunman as if he found nothing out of the ordinary in his conduct. ‘Are you a ——— ——— ——— Mormon?’ the stranger demanded. Mustering all the composure he could, Joseph answered evenly while looking the man straight in the eye, ‘Yes, siree; dyed in the wool; true blue, through and through.’ Almost stunned by this wholly unexpected response, the gunman stopped, dropped his hands to his sides, and, after looking incredulously at Joseph for a moment, said in a subdued tone, ‘Well, you are the ——— ——— pleasantest man I ever met! Shake. I am glad to see a fellow stand for his convictions.’ So saying, he turned and walked away.”

Saturday was a special day for the Olson family, who lived in a sprawling old farmhouse in a little western Canadian town nearly seventy-five years ago.
The ten brothers and their sister knew that Saturday was the day to get ready for Sunday, and everyone was expected to help. Some were assigned to care for younger children, while others helped Father with the outside chores. Indoors, there was washing, cleaning, and baking to do, for even the food to be eaten on Sunday was prepared on Saturday.
Aromas of freshly baked chicken, warm spice cake, and homemade bread were tempting, but everything was carefully wrapped, covered, and put away for Sunday dinner.
After the baking was done, teams of boys helped Mother scrub and clean the kitchen, while their only sister ironed freshly laundered white shirts with the old flat iron that had been heated on the big black coal stove. Sheets were changed and bedrooms tidied, and when the house was finally ready, it was time for the last Saturday chore—the bath. Two or more boys at a time had to share the large round wooden tub of hot soapy water.
After the last child was scrubbed and in his nightclothes, Mother served a favorite treat—hot cider with fresh buttered popcorn or homemade doughnuts. Afterward Father gathered the family together to give thanks to our Heavenly Father for the blessings of that day. Finally the children would climb into bed clean, tired, happy, and ready for the Sabbath day.

Conscious choice also led Ove and Karen Christensen to their farm on the outskirts of Ribe, twenty miles from Esbjerg, Denmark’s major westbound shipping port.

Since 1984, the Christensens have farmed thirty-three hectares of barley, wheat, peas, and raspberries. They raise pigs and cows for food and horses for fun. In some ways, the Christensens are typical Danes: approximately 70 percent of Danish land is devoted to agriculture, predominantly small farms like theirs. “We wanted farm life for our family,” says Ove. “So much good comes from working the soil and learning the law of the harvest.”

The Christensens’ facial features and fair complexions are distinctly Nordic, as is their warm hospitality. Before them on the table is a polished tray with carefully sliced cakes, rolls, bread, cheeses, and a clear glass pitcher of homemade elderberry juice.

Danes are a convivial people in whom there seems no trace of their fierce Viking ancestors who stormed through northern Europe a thousand years ago. For Danes, having visitors means having a snack, a treat, or even a meal. Missionaries who serve in the Denmark Copenhagen Mission are fond of saying, “Here in Denmark, we have one meal a day, and it lasts from our first visit in the morning until our last visit in the evening.”

Ove has been on the nursing staff at the hospital in Esbjerg for sixteen years, and Karen has been there for six. They work their schedules in complementary shifts in order to be with their four children, ages two to twelve. “He’s great with the kids while I’m working,” says Karen. “Ove is a wonderful father.”

She adds, “People at the hospital who knew Ove before he joined the Church in 1981 credit his tremendous growth to the way he lives now.” Karen had joined the Church in 1978, after living in New York with a cousin for a year. Now, she is in the Esbjerg Ward Primary presidency, and he teaches the Aaronic Priesthood lessons. Twice a year, Karen and Ove journey to the Stockholm Sweden Temple, which requires a lengthy journey by car and ferry.

I am writing to thank you for the New Era, which I have found to be spiritually uplifting, and to share with you my little miracle. At a point in my life when I had become totally inactive and thought that life was no longer worth living, I started to receive the New Era. I don’t know who paid for the subscription, but I will be eternally grateful because it helped to bring about the turning point in my life. I am now back on the right road, and I know that life is worth living. I have a lot of steps to climb and a lot of praying and learning to do, but I know that my Heavenly Father is beside me all the way.
Terri WhittingPerth, Australia

COS: Few, if any, outside of immediate family knew of this small but significant grief Sharon carried in her heart. Our boys were healthy and our life was full. About four years quickly passed, and we felt ourselves resolved and settled. We built our home with the plan that it would accommodate the four of us well, and we really were grateful for our general good fortune and happy lives. Then, one weekend in early February 1977, our lives changed.

SGS: The married student stake in which my husband was serving as second counselor in the stake presidency was being reorganized. Elder Marvin J. Ashton of the Quorum of the Twelve was releasing the stake presidency and calling a new one. When he interviewed my husband, Elder Ashton asked if there were any difficulties or disappointments in our family life, and Cec said the only thing he could think of was the set of experiences we have just shared that seemed to determine we would always be a small family. Elder Ashton told my husband not to worry and that things “would work out the way they should.” He then went on to call my husband to be the new stake president.

COS: After the Sunday meetings and other formal activities were concluded, a member of the stake high council approached us and asked to be excused from the regular meetings for the next few days because he was returning to Guatemala, where he had served his mission, to look into the possibility of adopting a child. Without any previous discussion or consideration, at least on my part, we wished him well, excused him from his duties for the period he would be gone, and then, almost offhandedly, mentioned that perhaps this was something we should look into as well.

SGS: Within just a few days we received an unexpected call explaining that a set of twins to be born near the end of the month would be available for adoption. The birth mother, a maid with an older child, had been abandoned by the birth father, and she hoped that somehow her twins, a boy and a girl, could have a better life than what was likely for them in their Guatemalan village. We think one dimension of the concern of this pregnant Indian mother was that having twins was not considered good fortune. The practice in their area at that time was to choose the potentially strongest infant of the two and let that baby be nursed fully. The weaker baby would then be neglected because most nursing mothers did not have sufficient milk for two babies. Thus the outlook for the smaller or weaker baby was dismal.

COS: When we mentioned that my wife had four brothers, we should have also noted that the two immediately younger than Sharon were twins and were quite a handful for her parents and also for their elder sister. Thus our immediate reaction was that we couldn’t consider adopting these twins. But after a few days of careful thought and serious prayers, we had our answer that these little ones should be ours. We made the necessary arrangements and provided powdered infant formula to the wonderful people caring for the twins. Then I and our friend made our way to Guatemala to bring the babies home.

We are confident that the hand of the Lord was on those good people, because our twins were healthy when I arrived, although our daughter was still very tiny. Our eldest son’s prayer for “a brother and a sister” was answered.

SGS: We have told parts of this experience before at BYU and elsewhere. Suffice it to say, with a number of other miracles—some of which we did recognize as they occurred—we had our baby girl and baby boy home in Utah in just a couple of months after their birth. Next month they will be thirty-six, and each is happily married with children of their own.

Now, having doubled the number of our children almost overnight and having the little sister for our older boys, the daughter for me, and a third son for all of us, we felt our quiver was finally full. Surely we had been richly blessed, and we acknowledged our gratitude for these very happy circumstances, although we learned that this many little people, particularly twin infants, was not necessarily a picnic much of the time.

COS: I should confess that during all this time when I would sit on the stand in Church, it was left to Sharon to struggle with the kids. When asked by a well-meaning member of our ward whether or not I ever helped with the children in Church, my wife would answer, “Oh, yes! Whenever they misbehave, he scowls at them from the stand.” But there is yet another interesting—at least to us—part of our story. Another four years passed, and then my dear wife returned from a doctor’s appointment to announce that she was pregnant. What a surprise! My older sister Carol has always described our fifth child, Sara, as the “miracle child” because her birth occurred against very long medical odds.

In the Old Testament, a prophet of God asked that same question of a woman whose name we are not told. As the prophet Elisha went about fulfilling his prophetic duties, he often passed through a town called Shunem. Whenever Elisha passed by, this woman constrained him to stop and eat bread. After one of Elisha’s visits, the woman turned to her husband and said:
I perceive that this is an holy man of God, which ­passeth by us continually.
Let us make a little chamber, I pray thee, on the wall; and let us set for him there a bed, and a table, and a stool, and a candlestick: and it shall be, when he cometh to us, that he shall turn in thither.2
Now, just as this woman had envisioned, the next time Elisha came, he stayed in the room. The account reads: “And it fell on a day, that he came thither, and he turned into the chamber, and lay there.”3
The scriptures do not tell us how the woman felt as the prophet went into the little room that she had prepared just for him. But the scriptures do tell us how Elisha felt. He asked his servant to give the woman a message directly from him. It was, in effect, “What can I do for you?” Or, to be scripturally precise, “Thou hast been careful for us with all this care; what is to be done for thee?”4
Then the servant offered two options for the woman to consider: “Wouldest thou be spoken for to the king, or to the captain of the host?”5 Certainly these suggestions were within the rights of the prophet to make. He had already been of great help to both the king in Israel and the king in Judah. He had helped them obtain victory in war. Certainly the king and the captain would help Elisha in any way they could. So this woman could probably have negotiated anything she desired in response to the question “What is to be done for thee?”
This is the foundation for our question this morning: What would each of you ask for? How would you answer the prophet today?
I personally love the response she gave. She answered, “I dwell among mine own people.”6 Or, as I interpret it, “I have everything I need; I am at home with family.” Or perhaps, “We have plenty and to spare.”
Does her answer surprise you? It did me. Whatever her motivation, her answer caused me to think about what my response would be. Do I know enough about God’s plan? Am I secure enough in what God has given me and in my discipleship to His Son that I could say to the prophet, “I have everything I need”?
How about you? Do you have everything you need?

Some here may be wondering, “Are these all the gifts I need to return to Heavenly Father? In these spiritually perilous times, don’t we face some challenges that are unique to us—challenges that require something more?”
The answer is yes. Which is why you need to hear the rest of the Shunammite woman’s story—the part that is critically important for you and me as Saints living in the latter days.
After the Shunammite woman gave her answer, she went away. But the prophet Elisha could not rest. He still wanted to know what more he could do for her. In response, his servant pointed out that she had no child and that her husband was old. So Elisha called for the woman to come back. Elisha then promised her a son, which she later delivered, just as the prophet had said. And I love how he said the promise to her:
About this season, according to the time of life, thou shalt embrace a son. . . .
And the woman conceived, and bare a son at that season that Elisha had said unto her, according to the time of life.21
But that is not the end of the story. After several years this son would die and then be brought back to life by the prophet Elisha, miraculously giving this woman’s son to her twice.22
But even that is not the end of the story. After several more years, Elisha told this woman to flee into a different land because of a famine that was going to last seven years. She took her husband and son and fled, returning only after the famine had ended.23
The prophet of the Lord knew what the Shunammite woman needed—needs she probably believed could not be addressed and future needs she couldn’t possibly anticipate. But because she answered the call of a prophet and believed in his promises, her needs were met.

Growing up, I heard magnificent stories about H?k?le‘a and I remember building the canoe out of brown paper bags and popsicle sticks in kindergarten at L?‘ie Elementary School. As my mother mentioned in the introduction, the ocean is a special place to me. Even though I didn’t become a professional surfer, I have been involved with water-related projects over the years at the Smithsonian Institution, National Council of Teachers of Mathematics, and East-West Center. About two decades ago while I was a student at the East-West Center, master navigator Nainoa Thompson asked me to help take care of the canoes, assist with education, and support the mission, “to perpetuate the art and science of traditional Polynesian voyaging and the spirit of exploration through experiential educational programs that inspire students and their communities to respect and care for themselves, each other, and their natural and cultural environments.”

For the first five years, I didn’t sail on any canoe or escort boat. It was never a goal for me to sail. Instead, I scrubbed the hulls, cleaned the sails, sanded the deck, and loved talking story with crew members. As part of preparation, we also went through medical, safety, physical, cultural, and educational training, to name a few. Then, a couple of years before we departed on the M?lama Honua Worldwide Voyage, my teacher Nainoa Thompson asked me to be an apprentice navigator on the first international leg from Hawaii to Tahiti. I honestly thought he was talking to someone else. The second time he asked me to be an apprentice navigator, I thought deeply about this lifelong commitment. The third time, he didn’t ask. My teacher told me, “You’re ready, let’s go.”

I recall that evening vividly when Nainoa Thompson invited me to talk story. We ended up walking at a sand bar on the south shore of O‘ahu and watched H?k?le‘a (Hawai‘i’s zenith star Arcturus) rising in the heavens. He gave me profound wisdom that I will remember for the rest of my life. He said, “Linda, you need to be prepared and have a vision. If you don’t, someone will take it away from you, or they will give you theirs.” The voyage from Hawai‘i to Tahiti was the first time for 9 of the 13 H?k?le‘a crew members to cross the equator by canoe. I used to fear the storm, but now I respect and embrace it because I know it is an opportunity to reach within and find what we are willing to sail for.

Dilcia Soto, 16, still remembers the day the temple was dedicated in her hometown of Santo Domingo in the Dominican Republic: “I was only nine then, but I said, ‘Wow! A temple here!’ I was used to seeing people go to other countries to be sealed and to make covenants. I thought, ‘Now my family and I will not have to go to another country because we have our own temple nearby.’”
Today that temple stands majestic and tall in the capital city, so striking with its spire and well-kept grounds that many people passing by assume it must be a cathedral. Dilcia is happy to explain that it is even more sacred than that. On the temple grounds there is a quiet dignity in sharp contrast to the bustling energy of the streets and markets downtown.
It is to this place of peace that Dilcia and her friend Kelsia St. Gardien, 14, came not long ago. Both are members of the Mirador Ward of the Santo Domingo Dominican Republic Independencia Stake. Both have been to the temple before to do baptisms for the dead. But on this day they came simply to walk in the gardens, to talk, and to feel from outside the building the Spirit that the temple carries within.
“I have an immense love for the Lord, and I am so grateful for what He has done in my life,” Dilcia says. “My immediate family are members of the Church, but my aunts, uncles, and cousins are not. When they come to my house, I always have a Book of Mormon ready because there might be an opportunity to share the gospel with them.” She also shares the gospel with friends and “with any person I might meet who is truly interested.” And every time she does, she says, “I feel the Spirit so strongly. Every time I share my testimony, I feel the truthfulness of the Church all over again.”
She remembers a seminary lesson about the plan of salvation. “Before this world was, we were in a great Council in Heaven, and we chose to follow our Heavenly Father and accept the sacrifice that Jesus Christ would make on our behalf,” she says. “Our teacher explained that we could tell we obeyed Heavenly Father then because we are here on earth now with bodies of flesh and bones. When he said that, I knew it was true. That night in my prayers, I cried and gave thanks to God for that knowledge.”
Dilcia quotes 1 Corinthians 3:16: “Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you?” “If I am also a temple,” she says, “I need to be as clean and beautiful as the temple. What a marvelous blessing it is to be in this Church and to be a virtuous young woman!”
She says her greatest desire is to live with her Heavenly Father again someday. “I am so grateful that He has given us the temple so that we can do all we need to do to return to Him,” she says. “The best form of thanking Him is to live the way He asks us to live.”
Dilcia says, “The Lord wants us to enter His house, to learn about Him, and to work our way toward eternity with Him.” She says she enjoys participating in baptisms for the dead because “it is a way to help those who are waiting on the other side of the veil, to do something for them that they cannot do for themselves.”
Kelsia agrees. “Our ancestors need us to do the work, and I know they are going to be grateful to us,” she says. “In particular I am looking forward to seeing my grandmother whom I never got to know in this life. We are going to make sure all her temple work is done for her.”
Talking about the temple brings out strong emotions for Kelsia. “I am committed to making decisions that will help me to be sealed to my family,” she says. “We have to respect the gospel and observe the commandments al pie de la letra [to the letter of the law],” she says. “We do it because we love our Heavenly Father, and obedience is how we show our gratitude to Him.”
Her family joined the Church in December 2006, six years after her parents moved to the Dominican Republic from Haiti. “I’m so grateful for the missionaries who knocked on our door. It was great to feel the Spirit and to learn about Heavenly Father’s plan for us. Since the gospel came into our lives, our family is much closer. I am grateful that He gave me a family that is so united, even in the most difficult moments. To think that we can have the privilege of being sealed eternally seems like one of the greatest blessings of all.”
Her parents are taking a temple-preparation class right now, and that reminds her to prepare for the day when she will be married in the temple. “That is my main goal, that my future husband and I will be worthy for each other and worthy to be an eternal family.”
The two friends walk past the pole where the flag of their nation unfurls in a gusting breeze. “Even the flag at the temple reminds us to be faithful,” Dilcia says. “It is more than just colors. It contains the motto Dios, patria, libertad [God, country, liberty] and shows a Christian cross and the Bible. It reminds us that our country was founded by people who believed in God and that God is still important here.”
They also walk past the entrance to the temple, where the words Santidad al Señor, la Casa del Señor (Holiness to the Lord, the House of the Lord) are inscribed above the doorway, as they are at every temple.
“Whenever I read those words, I am filled with a powerful witness that they are true,” Dilcia says. “I remember coming here with our Mutual group one evening, just to visit the grounds. After we were done, the bishop asked us what we felt here. We talked about it and came up with a one-word answer: peace.”
And Kelsia and Dilcia walk away thinking of that perfect one-word answer … perfect because the temple is the place of peace.

Kimberly Martino, 13, along with her parents, four sisters, and her brother, accepted the challenge given them and the other members of the Lewisville Texas Stake to read the Book of Mormon as a family.
“I thought it was neat when we finally finished,” Kimberly said. “We made a goal and we reached it. And at a stake fireside I was able to tell the story about how Nephi’s bow broke when he went into the wilderness to hunt.”
Kimberly’s stake president, President Gordon T. Watts, came up with the idea. “I called it the ‘100-Day Book of Mormon Program.’ It was the end of May, and I challenged everyone to read the Book of Mormon by September 1st.” Kimberly and her family, along with more than 100 members of the stake, received certificates of completion.

The Arizona Temple was the only other Mormon place she ever had me visit. If I asked her what she wanted to do for a night out, she’d always reply, “Let’s go visit the temple. I love it there.”
I gave in, and we went there a few times. Usually we just walked through the grounds and admired the gorgeous landscaping, but after our third visit she talked me into touring the inside of the visitors’ center.
Inside, we saw several films and met many very friendly people. After the films and introductions, we went on a guided tour of the center. At the conclusion of the tour, our guide bore his testimony of the things we had seen that night. Liz cried.
After that experience, the temple was one of her favorite topics. “Chris, isn’t the temple a beautiful place? That’s where I’ll get married someday. I’ve promised myself that.”
“I guess I wouldn’t mind getting married there either,” I said. “It’s really no different than a cathedral.”
“It is different. When two people are married in the temple, they’re married forever.”
“That’s fine with me. I’ve always believed that true love lasts forever.”
Liz grew very serious. “You don’t understand. Only active members of the Church are allowed in the temple. You wouldn’t be allowed to enter.” She explained again that when her time came, she would be married in the temple. No other place was acceptable for her.
“But what if you really love a guy who’s not LDS?” I asked. “If you really love someone, it shouldn’t matter where you get married. All that matters is that you’re together and you’re in love.”
“If two people really love each other,” she answered shaking her head, “they’d never settle for anything less than an eternal relationship.” She paused and looked me in the eye. “I never would.”
As we neared the end of our senior year, we had many arguments about temple marriage. Liz maintained that she’d never marry outside of the temple. I argued that, in true love, the ceremony was not important. Love was eternal regardless of the type of marriage.
The more we discussed it, the more she talked about the temple and how special it was. I was confounded. It was obvious that we were falling in love, yet Liz wouldn’t budge on her temple marriage hang-up. I felt positive that if our love matured, she would eventually give in and agree to be married anywhere. I was wrong.
One afternoon at school, Liz met me at our locker. Her eyes were tearfully red, and her voice was taut with emotion. “Chris, I’ve decided that we can’t see each other anymore. We can’t go out again—ever.”
Her words stunned me. “What do you mean? Look, I don’t care what your parents think …”
She looked up at me with tears streaming down her face. “It’s not my parents. It’s me. I can’t allow myself to date you. I don’t want to fall in love with you.”
“Liz, you’re just upset. Why don’t we just talk this out like we’ve always done? You’ll feel better in a little while.”
She backed away from me. “No, I’ve made up my mind,” she sobbed. “I can’t afford to see you again!” She pressed a shiny black paperback into my hands and ran down the hall.
We stopped seeing each other. Liz started going out with LDS guys, and I moped around campus. I thought about the many discussions we’d had. What was it that made her so stubborn about a temple marriage? Why wouldn’t she compromise? What made her so special?
Several weeks after we broke up, I returned to school late one spring afternoon. I searched through the mess in my locker and soon found what I was looking for. The little black paperback was slightly dog-eared but still readable. Maybe it would answer some of my questions. I glanced around to make sure no one saw me carrying an LDS book, tucked it inside my jacket, and went home.
When I got home I hurried upstairs with my secret bundle and hid it in my desk drawer. I knew my parents wouldn’t approve of me reading Mormon “propaganda.”
Two weeks passed before I had a chance to be alone with the book. When I had the opportunity, I took the book out of my desk, stretched out on my bed, and started to read.
I opened the book, A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, and skimmed its pages. A section about the Joseph Smith story caught my eye, so I read it carefully. As I read the story of Joseph Smith’s vision, I knew that it was true. I also knew that if his story was true, then the church he founded must also be true.
A little later I agreed to take the missionary discussions, and I rapidly gained a testimony of the principles of the gospel. After the discussions, I knew that I should join the Church, and after much fasting, praying, and soul searching, I was baptized. Liz was there. She cried.
A little more than a year after I was baptized, Liz and I again visited the temple, this time to be married for time and all eternity. That was 13 years ago. Today, and every day, as I watch our family blossom and grow, I’m grateful for the strong testimony of that cute little Mormon girl. I’m thankful that she was courageous enough to refuse to compromise on an issue that meant eternal happiness for her, and eventually, for me too.

After attending a fireside given by our stake patriarch, I was excited to receive my patriarchal blessing.
I found out that to receive my patriarchal blessing, I needed to have an interview with my bishop. I called the executive secretary, and he set the appointment for after Mutual the next week.
The church was nearly empty when I walked down the hall to the bishop’s office. I knocked on the door, and he let me in. We did the “How is school?” conversation; then he asked what he could do for me. He seemed pleased that I wanted to get a patriarchal blessing.
We talked about what a patriarchal blessing is, what it means to receive one, and if I thought I was ready. Then he asked about my personal worthiness. Did I obey the Word of Wisdom, attend my Church meetings, and have a testimony of the gospel? It felt good to honestly and wholeheartedly answer yes to his questions, even though I felt I was far from perfect.
Then the bishop asked a final question, “Is there anything in your past that should have been cleared up with your priesthood leaders but hasn’t been?”
I said no, got my recommend, and left—ready to make my appointment with the patriarch. As I walked down the dark hall, that last question started to weigh on my mind. Was there anything in my past?
A couple of visits I had made to a friend’s house when I was very young came to mind. I had been uncomfortable with some games we played there. I had never done anything similar again. Still, I had wondered several times whether or not those small innocent infractions were something I needed to talk to the bishop about. Since I hadn’t really done anything seriously wrong, I figured I would forget about it. Apparently, I had not forgotten.
If I was going to get only one patriarchal blessing in my life, I didn’t want a cloud hanging over it. So I turned around and headed back to the bishop’s office with my heart in my throat. I didn’t want to be laughed at or have my concerns brushed aside. I forced myself to knock on the bishop’s door again.
I could tell he was surprised to see me. I spilled out the story, much too quickly and without a lot of clarity. He didn’t laugh or brush aside my concerns. Instead, he listened carefully, asked a few questions about then and now, and asked about the repentance I had done privately with the Lord. Then he said, “I think you can go ahead and get your blessing and not worry about this anymore.”
I felt clean and joyful as I walked out of his office the second time. I felt like I could float as I bounced down the hallway. I knew I was clean. I had been cleared by my priesthood leader of an uneasy feeling I had carried for several years.
I carried that feeling of cleanliness with me to the patriarch’s home the evening I received my blessing. As he said his first words, “The Lord is pleased that you chose to keep His commandments as a way of showing your love for Him,” I began to cry. I truly felt the Lord was speaking to me and that my life, as imperfect as it was, was pleasing to Him.
I have learned I can always go to my priesthood leaders if I ever have a question about my worthiness. I have learned how much they want to help. They don’t think badly of me when I am less than perfect, and they don’t think it’s a waste of time to discuss any problem, major or minor. They are almost as happy as we are when we get that wonderful feeling of joy that comes from being forgiven.

The LeGault family makes it a practice to try to live close to the Spirit. Brother LeGault helps set the pace. Shortly after he prayed for help in finding someone to share the gospel with, he was prompted to turn off the main highway to stop at a gas station, even though he didn’t need gas. A young man riding a motorcycle had stopped there because he was tired of traveling, and Brother LeGault offered to put the motorcycle in his van and give the young man a lift to Montreal.

The young man was impressed by the kindness he received and wanted to know more about the LeGault family and what made them so loving. He took the missionary lessons. The LeGault family prayed that the young man would gain a testimony. A few weeks later, he was baptized into the Church.

“When something like that happens, we make it a family activity,” says Chantal. “We all prayed for the young man to listen to the truth. We work together to share the gospel.”

“We try to say to our Heavenly Father, ‘I’ll do what you want. Make me what you want,’” says Nathalie. “When we let him do that, he does wonderful things.”

The flood was bad. It washed away houses. Now some people didn’t have homes.
Cameron wanted to help. But how?
On Sunday, the Primary president said, “We’re collecting shoes for families who were in the flood.”
That night, Cameron talked to Mom and Dad. “Can we look for shoes for home evening?”
“Great idea!” Mom said.
“We’ll call it the Great Family Shoe Hunt,” Dad said.
At home evening, Dad said a prayer. “Dear Heavenly Father, we have been given so much. Help us to share.”
Then the hunt began. Cameron ran to his room. His brother and sister ran to look for shoes too. Cameron looked in his closet. He found a pair of church shoes. Then he found a pair of tennis shoes. The shoes didn’t fit anymore. But they were still good shoes.
Everyone came back to the living room. They had found five pairs of shoes to share!
“Now let’s fix them up,” Mom said.
They rubbed away spots. They polished. They put in new laces.
The shoes looked almost new!
On Sunday, Cameron’s family took the shoes to Primary.
“Thank you!” the Primary president said. “When we help others, we are following Jesus.”
She gave each child a small paper footprint. The footprint said “Following Jesus.”
Cameron smiled. He liked following Jesus.

My four-year-old niece Mollie was playing at her grandmother’s house one day when she asked if she could cross the street to visit a favorite aunt. Mollie was cautioned to look carefully both ways before crossing. Always an inquisitive child, she questioned this procedure, so her grandmother replied, “You could easily get hit by a car, and I love you so much I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Before long Mollie was back. “You lied to me! You said I would get hit by a car if I didn’t look both ways. Well, I closed my eyes and ran over and back and a car didn’t hit me!”
Just as a loving grandmother cautioned a four-year-old child to look both ways before crossing a street, a loving Father in Heaven has given us detailed instructions to ensure our happiness and safe arrival at our ultimate destination. Yet we often question the consequences, or think we can get away with taking chances, so we close our eyes to some of God’s commandments and cross the street of life. At such times it appears that we might not get hurt if we obey only some of God’s laws. But the Lord has said, “Keep my commandments.” He didn’t say, “Look this list over and pick out what you think applies,” or “Try to work on part of these some of the time.” His instructions were simple, yet direct and unqualified—“Keep my commandments.”
My four-year-old granddaughter Jordan asks “why” after almost everything I say. I realize her need to understand and I explain as much as possible. But there are occasions when no amount of explaining can penetrate her level of understanding. And so it is with us. Our mortal minds are limited. How tedious it must become when we continue to question what we cannot comprehend. Often the consequences from our actions are not immediately visible and our obedience requires some faith. Elder Neal A. Maxwell has said, “Obedience, among other things, provides us with a grace period. During this period, we go forward out of a sense of duty, doing what we should do before we have all the answers as to why” (Meek and Lowly, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1987, p. 114).
Many of us wish we could counsel with the Lord concerning situations in our lives. What we sometimes fail to realize is that we can! We have been given personalized counsel in the form of a perfect road map detailed specifically for us in ancient scripture and modern-day revelation. Just tune in to general conference, and you will be astounded at the solutions to your own problems that you will hear from the Lord’s chosen leaders.
We have also been given the ultimate model. The Savior’s life is the perfect example for us to follow. And if our footsteps falter, because of the Atonement, and through our own repentance, we are welcomed back to the pathway of righteousness.
Tucked inside our own personal road map, we have been given a promise concerning our willingness to follow the commandments of the Lord. We are told that the Lord is bound when we do what he says. And then, we are given a caution. When we do not what he says, we have no promise. (See D&C 82:8–10.)
It is pretty clear, isn’t it? We cannot afford to be selectively obedient. We must be steadfastly obedient. In the Doctrine and Covenants, we are told, “When we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated” (D&C 130:21).
If we are willing to put our trust in the Lord and keep his commandments, we have been promised that we will be blessed. The blessing might not come in the form of straight A’s, having a date every Friday night, or inheriting a lot of money. But we will grow in capacity, experiencing joy along the way as we keep more and more of the commandments and eventually become prepared for a celestial existence.
The catch in all of this is that our level of obedience determines the outcome. Whether we are studying music or microbiology, we all know that success hinges on how thoroughly we study or how hard we practice. Does it really surprise us that God operates in this same cause-and-effect manner?
Douglas Smoot, Dean of the College of Engineering and Technology at Brigham Young University, once told me, “It is impossible to leap from the top of a building and disobey the law of gravity. Placing one’s finger in an electric outlet will cause an electrical flow through a person’s body irrespective of intent. Fundamental laws of nature cannot be disobeyed.”
I thought about Dean Smoot’s comments, and how we as humans constantly try to push the laws of nature as well as the laws of God, when I read in the newspaper about a young man celebrating his birthday at a hotel. He and his friends had been drinking and were probably not thinking clearly when he decided to jump from one tenth-floor balcony to the next. Being successful the first time, he attempted a second leap and fell to his death. “We were just out having a good time,” said his friend, “but now] I realize how quickly life can be taken away.”
Use this tragic story to illustrate what happens when our judgment is impaired and we refuse to obey the laws God has given us—both physical and spiritual. In this case, the consequence of falling from that high up seems pretty obvious. But there will be times when we will feel physically or spiritually impaired and will not realize what could happen if we choose to disobey, or if we walk too close to the edge of disobedience. If only we could realize that the momentary pleasure we might feel by an act of disobedience can never be equal to the feelings of peace and happiness that result from obedience.
Joseph Smith assured us, “As God has designed our happiness—and the happiness of all His creatures, he never has—he never will institute an ordinance or give a commandment to His people that is not calculated in its nature to promote that happiness which He has designed” (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, p. 256).
Sometimes we are tempted to test the law, as Mollie did, and even question the wisdom of the lawgiver. We may feel that we find freedom in disobedience as we dash across life’s highway with our eyes closed. But as Elder Boyd K. Packer has said, “Obedience—that which God will never take by force—he will accept when freely given. And he will return to you freedom that you can hardly dream of—the freedom to feel and to know, the freedom to do and the freedom to be, at least a thousandfold more than we offer him. Strangely enough, the key to freedom is obedience” (Obedience, BYU Speeches of the Year, Provo, 7 Dec. 1971, p. 4).

The Church is one of Sue’s greatest sources of guidance and comfort. At a youth conference, the bishop challenged all of the youth to pray for confirmation that the Church was true even if they already had a testimony.

Sue accepted the challenge although she had some reservations. “I felt I didn’t need to ask because I know the Church is true. But I wanted to tell my friends about my testimony before I graduated from high school. They sometimes tease me about being a Mormon.”

Sue did pray, but the answer didn’t seem to come. Then one day she was with some friends, and suddenly she was in the middle of a serious conversation about the Church with one of them. The friend asked, “How do you know that it is true, Sue?”

“Suddenly I realized that Heavenly Father was giving me an opportunity to say that I do know the Church is true. Here I was bearing my testimony, telling her this is the truth. I didn’t realize until that night that my prayer had been answered.”

The friend then asked if she could go to church with the Keller family. Soon she was attending seminary with Sue and receiving the discussions from the missionaries. “It’s been wonderful,” Sue said. “I’ve never done that with a friend before.”

Nathan slid around in his hard wooden chair, trying to get comfortable. He yanked at his tie and scratched his neck. His clothes were so itchy. It was boiling in this room! This was no time for a piano recital.
“Welcome,” Mrs. Kendall said to the audience. Nathan’s piano teacher was nice. He didn’t mind playing for her, but for all these people? Nathan sat stiff in his seat. He cleared his mind and tried to imagine the room empty.
“We’re so pleased to have such a large audience …” Mrs. Kendall’s voice drained out of Nathan’s head. When did he have to play? He looked down at the program. He had to go second! Now he really didn’t want to play his piece anymore.
“Hey,” Mom leaned down and whispered in Nathan’s ear. “Are you nervous?”
“Not really,” Nathan said. Somehow he thought saying he was afraid would make it worse.
“Good. You’ve practiced really hard. You’ll do great.”
Nathan slumped down in his seat. What good would all his practice do if he froze up now?
“And remember,” Mom said, leaning down again, “it always helps to say a little prayer and ask Heavenly Father for help.”
Mrs. Kendall announced the first performer, and the audience clapped as Cassie sat down at the piano. How could she look so calm? Her fingers glided through her song.
Nathan’s heart was pounding, and his hands felt cold and stiff. How could he play the piano if his fingers were numb?
Cassie lifted her hands off the piano keys. The audience clapped, and Cassie bowed.
“And now we’ll hear from Nathan Gibbs, playing …” Nathan’s heart skipped a few beats. He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them up. He walked like a zombie to the piano. It looked so much bigger than before. Was it bigger? What was it his mom had told him to do? Oh, right. Nathan sat down on the bench and closed his eyes for a moment. Heavenly Father, I’ve practiced really hard. Please help me perform the way I practiced. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
He took a deep breath, positioned his fingers for the first notes, and pressed down. Nathan couldn’t even think what came next, but his fingers remembered. His hands glided through scales and chords as if they had a mind of their own. Oops! One wrong note in that scale. His heart did a little jump, but his fingers kept going, just as he had practiced so many times. Near the end, he felt almost as calm as if he were playing in an empty room.
Finally he reached the last chord and held out the final notes. He slid his hands off the piano and let out a long breath as people began clapping.
Nathan beamed as he slid off the piano bench. He quickly lowered his head for a bow and hopped down the stairs.
“Great job,” Dad said after the recital was over. “I knew you’d be awesome.”
Nathan felt his cheeks go a little red, but he had a warm feeling inside.
“Ice cream for everyone!” Dad said.
His sister gave Nathan a high five. “You were really good.”
“Thanks.”
“I knew you’d be fine,” Mom said. She put her arm around Nathan. “And you played beautifully. There’s nothing a little practice can’t do.”
“And a little prayer,” Nathan said.
Mom squeezed him tight.
As they walked out of the recital room, Nathan said another prayer. Thank you, Heavenly Father. I couldn’t have done it without Thee.

His next childhood memory was that he was now living with his widowed mother in Nauvoo. Mary Fielding Smith was very involved in Relief Society. She and her sister collected money from other members of the Society—typically two pennies. The pennies were used to purchase glass for the Nauvoo Temple.

Joseph F. described that one day while his mother was sleeping, he passed by a desk in the home and a drawer was open. Inside the drawer, he saw a lot of pennies. He had never seen so much money in his life, and his conclusion was that he wanted to put those pennies in his pocket, at least some of them. He liked to hear the sound of money jingling in his pocket, and perhaps you like that, too. He played with the money for awhile, then forgot about it. However, he did keep the pennies in his pocket.

He went outside to play. One of the members of the Church passed by and saw this young boy and heard the sound of money. He went over to Joseph F. Smith and demanded to see the contents of his pockets. Joseph F., a six-year-old, brought out the contents of his pockets. He had fistfuls of money. At this point, the man wanted to know his name. He also wanted to know who his parents were. Without warning, the man grabbed him by the collar and took him through the streets of Nauvoo shouting, “Come see a thief!”

The man received much notice for his actions before going to the home of Mary Fielding Smith. When she answered the door, he explained to her that he had caught a thief. Mary was puzzled. Her son was a good boy. She wanted to know how this man had the right to accuse him of being a thief. When Joseph emptied the contents of his pockets, he was crying. His mother wanted to know if he had taken the money intending to steal it. When Joseph indicated that he had not taken the pennies to steal them, Mary told the accuser to leave her home. She embraced her son, but not the man who was the accuser.