Gospel Story Finder

One thing that keeps the Sereni family standing strong in the gospel is their baptismal covenants. Christopher was recently baptized and confirmed, and something that made it extra special was “when my dad and a friend sang together,” he says.
Now Christopher and Judy work on keeping their baptismal covenants all the time and doing what Jesus Christ would like them to do. “When I have friends who get hurt, I try to help out,” Christopher says. Judy also likes to serve: “I help out at home. I help Christopher with his studies, and I serve my friends.”
Dad adds, “When they’re asked to set the table or wash the dishes after a meal, they’re willing. Just of their own free will, they help out.”

Sister Lee Vashti, Ma On Shan Ward, Hong Kong Tolo Harbour Stake, learned a similar lesson when the young men and young women in the Hong Kong stakes and their parents gathered to assemble gift packages for elderly single residents of the city. Then they separated into small groups to clean the apartments of the elderly and to spend some time talking with those who live alone and typically have few, if any, visitors.
Lee says, “I felt slightly put off when I first realized that I was assigned to clean someone’s apartment in the unbearably hot and humid Hong Kong weather. What’s more, I was working with another ward’s youth who were almost total strangers to me. Only now do I realize that this service activity was about helping others and not about spending a morning with friends.”
As she helped clean the apartment and spent some time visiting, she gained firsthand knowledge of how important it is to give time and attention to someone who appreciates the chance to visit.
She says, “The senior’s house was well organized, and everything had its own place in the small apartment: a long bench off to the side of the wall with a small TV right across from it and a bunk bed in the corner of the room. There wasn’t much for my group to do, but we still wiped the top of the walls and the lights, and visited with our senior friend. I gained a valuable lesson about my attitude. This was not about me. This was about forgetting my wants and going to help another. Once I understood this simple concept, I realized that I had had fun—even without my friends. Not only had I given service to someone, but I also had made new friends.”

Recently, my wife and I were able to take our family on a pioneer “trek” at Martin’s Cove in Wyoming. It was an exhausting but inspiring experience, pushing and pulling a handcart through the sand and mud and heat, and we only went a few miles. This experience helped me gain a deep interest in my own pioneer ancestors. I knew that some of my ancestors had come across the plains as pioneers, but I began to wonder how many pioneer ancestors I had and what their stories were. I admit to being less than attentive in Family Home Evenings as a kid when my parents taught about these stories, so a few months ago, I began to research through the Church’s FamilySearch tools. Of my 32 great-great-great-grandparents, I was amazed to find that 30 of them crossed the plains as pioneers between 1847 and 1869 in wagon or handcart companies. I have found dozens of amazing stories of their perseverance, dedication, and faith. For example, Lars Larsen was one of my great-great-great-grandfathers on my paternal grandmother’s side. He and his wife joined the Church in their native Denmark in 1867. Their family and friends immediately disowned them. They soon immigrated to America and joined a company of saints crossing the plains to Utah. When they arrived, they were so poor that they lived for two years in a hole in the side of a hill before they were able to afford to build a real house. Lars and his wife Johanne stayed true to the Gospel even after Lars had to spend time in jail for his beliefs. (Fortunately, he had some good company there. In this picture you can see him with his friend George Q. Cannon, after whom the Cannon Activity Center is named. Ironically, I’m only distantly related to Georgi Q. and not through my Cannon ancestors, despite the shared family name.) The faith and dedication of the Larsen family helped them keep spiritual entropy at bay so that they could find joy together even while literally living in a hole in the ground.

Later that year I felt I should go to the visitors’ center at the Washington D.C. Temple to see the Christmas lights. I had been to the visitors’ center to see the lights before but had never inquired about the Church or its beliefs.
As I strolled through the visitors’ center, looking at the many displays, I thought of my cousin and another friend who were planning to serve missions for this church. I had studied about many religions but never this one. I was a little curious.
In my head I asked, expecting no answer, “Why in the world would those two men, or anyone for that matter, give up two years to serve missions—and at their own expense?” Much to my surprise, I received a humbling response. The soft whispers of the Spirit pierced my heart as my eyes fell upon a replica of gold plates. I was drawn to them. As I looked at them, I felt a powerful feeling of love, safety, and comfort, and in my mind I heard the words, “These are important. Learn about them.”
Immediately, I found a missionary and asked her about the plates. She told me about Joseph Smith translating the Book of Mormon. She also suggested I meet with the missionaries, but I declined.
The next day I went to the library to read all I could about the plates and the Church. I bought a copy of the Book of Mormon from a used-book store and began reading. I also read about the Church, but I wanted to learn more, so I decided to attend a church meeting.
I knew if I studied and prayed, God would confirm to me that this is the right church. So that’s what I did. I watched and waited patiently. And sure enough, my prayers were answered. On March 25, 2001, I was baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
This is the Church of Jesus Christ. There are many good churches with many good people, but The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the church of our Lord and Savior, and it is the church with which our Heavenly Father is well pleased (see D&C 1:30). Our Heavenly Father loves us, has a plan for us, and will guide us back to Him if we earnestly seek Him.

Today is Eli’s birthday. He is four years old.
In four more years, you will be baptized.
And four years after that, you will be a deacon and you will be able to pass the sacrament.
Later, Mom helped Eli change from his pajamas into his church clothes.
Do deacons wear superhero pants to church?
No. Deacons wear nice pants.
Do deacons wear superhero shirts to church?
No. Deacons wear white shirts and ties.
I want to wear a white shirt and nice pants. I want to dress like a deacon.
Mom helped Eli put on his nice pants, a white shirt, and a tie.
At church, Eli folded his arms as he watched the deacons pass the sacrament.
When a deacon brought Eli the sacrament, Eli took a piece of bread and then handed the tray to Mom.
Mom smiled at Eli. He was happy to help. He felt just like a deacon.

I was the youngest of seven children, and every morning at 6 a.m. my father would bang on the door and say, “It’s time for prayer.” He would go into the kitchen and start cooking the oatmeal, and we would gather and get on our knees. Something we would often hear our parents say in our family prayers was, “Please bless the missionaries that they will be led to the honest in heart and that our children will have the desire to go on a mission.” When we were young and one of us was called on to say a prayer, we would almost always say the same thing, and it affected us.
In this way, our parents impressed upon our minds the importance of a mission from the time we were young. Perhaps this was because they had both served missions. My father served in the Mexican Mission, and my mother served in Missouri at the height of the Depression.
My mother’s mission taught her a great lesson on faith. Her bishop and stake president told her that it would be difficult for her to serve a mission because she had a speech impediment, which made it hard for her to be understood. But she felt impressed to go and had the overwhelming feeling that if she would be faithful, the Lord would correct her problem and she would be able to serve.
At age 14 she had received a blessing regarding a mission. Some time later she went to the secluded upper rooms of the meetinghouse and poured her soul out to her Heavenly Father regarding her desire to serve a mission. She felt inspired to call her uncle, who was a mission president in Missouri, and ask him if she could be his secretary. (Back then they didn’t have all the formalities concerning mission calls that we do now.) He said yes, and she was set apart by a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, who promised her she would bring many people into the Church. She was surprised at this, knowing that she had difficulty speaking.
However, after she began to serve, one of the sister missionaries became very ill. The mission president asked my mother to work with this sister’s companion so that the sister could come to the mission home to recover and her companion could keep working. My mother took a train to the area where she would be working. When she stepped off the train, she was met by a couple of elders, one of whom remarked when he saw her, “Why have they sent Sister Bennion? She can’t even talk.” She turned to that missionary and said indignantly, “Yes, I can talk.” And in that moment her problem was gone, and it never returned.
I was raised in a home where the parents prayed that their children would go on missions because they knew what a mission does. Without reservation, I can say that, apart from my marriage to my wonderful wife, nothing has done more for me than my mission—for education, learning to get along with all sorts of people, learning a foreign language. But much more than that, through my mission I came to know my Heavenly Father and my Savior. I know the Savior lives. I know that. I am so grateful for parents who taught me the value of a mission.
I would like you to realize that whatever you do as a young person will set a precedent for the rest of your life.
Before Helaman’s sons Nephi and Lehi went out on their missions, their father gave them this counsel:
“Behold, my sons, I desire that ye should remember to keep the commandments of God; and would that ye should declare unto the people these words. Behold, I have given unto you the names of our first parents who came out of the land of Jerusalem; and this I have done that when you remember your names ye may remember them; and when you remember their names ye may remember their works; and when you remember their works ye may know how that it is said, and also written, that they were good.
“Therefore, my sons, I would that ye should do that which is good, that it may be said of you, and also written, even as it has been said and written of them” (Helaman 5:6–7).
When Helaman spoke these words, 500 years had passed away and they were still remembering Lehi and Nephi of old and what examples they were as the first prophets in the Book of Mormon; they were still naming their children after them because of their good example and their good works.
Try to visualize your own future. You too can begin a legacy by the way you act. Someday you will have children just as Helaman did. In generations to come they can look back and say that you were good.
My father’s name was John. I have a hard time counting how many of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren are named after him because he was such a good man. He was honorable and well-loved, so his posterity named their children after this good man whose name they will remember by hopefully continuing that legacy.
I admonish you to make your name one that your family can be proud of and that will be remembered because of your good works for a long time. You should always keep your name clean and pure so that your grandchildren and great-grandchildren will remember you as an honorable person. They should be able to say that this wasn’t a person who took drugs or was involved in illicit sex or other sins, but one who remained faithful and worthy.
Believe me, your name will be remembered. For example, your missionary companions will speak of you whether you were a good missionary or not. It’s been many years since I served my mission, and I can still tell you the missionaries who gave everything, those who goofed off and broke mission rules, and those who did not give it their best. Many have expressed their regrets for not being the kind of missionary they could have been. Of course, nobody is perfect. However, as President Hinckley has asked, we should do the very best we can. Your name carries through from the time you are a young person up through your mission, through adulthood and beyond.
I worked as a real estate developer, and it’s not easy to get farmers to sell you their land. But I can tell you of many instances when I went out to find land to purchase and people asked me, “Are you John Arnold’s son?”
I would say, “Yes, I am.”
And they would say, “He was an honest man. I’m sure you’ll be honest with us.” I bought several properties because of my father’s good name.
My father never made much money, but my parents were honest and hard working, and they taught these values to their children. My father worked at a copper mine. He didn’t earn enough money to send his sons and daughters on missions or to college, so my parents bought 1,000 chickens for us to raise so that we could sell the eggs. They also contracted to deliver a large number of newspapers each evening to our neighbors.
My father would have us go out to the chicken coops and shoot the rats out of the feed troughs because they would eat the chickens’ food. On many occasions I would go out with a flashlight and a small gun to shoot the rats that were in the hoppers eating the chickens’ food.
I’ll never forget one night when I was out on that particular assignment. My father came home from a Church meeting and looked down at me and said, “Son, what flashlight do you have?” I looked down and realized it was the one my father took to work, and it had the name of the copper mine on the side. My father said, “Son, that flashlight is for me to use on the job. You should never take anything from your employer for personal use—not even a pencil, a flashlight, or anything else. Go back and get another flashlight.” I am so grateful for my father’s legacy of honesty.
Most of the money from the eggs and delivering newspapers went into the bank to help pay for our education and our missions. Five of the children used the money to serve missions and all seven graduated from college. The lessons of value that my parents taught me on honesty, hard work, the Word of Wisdom, the law of chastity, and many other things continue to bless my life.
What legacy will you and I leave behind to be passed on to those who will remain after we have passed away—especially our children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren? I would hope it would be like that of Lehi and Nephi of old—a legacy of love, trust, and honor. We can and should set those who follow us for hundreds of years to come on a course that will lead them to happiness, joy, and eternal life.

Stake and district presidents along with bishops went out to help their members only minutes after the earthquake. The terrible situation in which these priesthood leaders went out is worth highlighting: it was nighttime; the lights were out; destruction abounded; and the earth would not stop shaking. These magnificent priesthood leaders left their families secured and walked out into the darkness, among people who wept, surrounded by destroyed houses. Thus our leaders went out during the night and the following days, facing frequent, strong aftershocks and a tsunami warning. They searched among the rubble, in the midst of commotion, risking their own lives to get to all the members. A bishop declared, “Without as much as a second thought, I ran in search of my Church brothers and sisters and leaders.” He found them. That’s how he spent most of the night.

The story is told that on one occasion, a traveler asked a farmer who was seated in the doorway of his humble cabin, “How’s the cotton crop going to be this year?”
The farmer replied, “There won’t be any. I didn’t bother to plant it because I was afraid of the boll weevil.”
Upon hearing this, the traveler asked further, “Well, are you going to harvest a big corn crop?”
“It’s the same,” came the response. “I was afraid we wouldn’t get enough rain for the kernels to mature.”
The traveler pursued, “At least you will have a good potato harvest!”
“Nope. Not any; I didn’t dare plant them because I was afraid of insects.”
With frustration, and somewhat impatiently, the traveler then asked, “Well, what is it that you have planted?”
“Nothing, my good man,” came the answer. “I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

María Angela Rodriguez said, “When I decided to follow Christ and make the covenants of baptism, I left everything (which wasn’t much) and followed. In the Church I have found that which I most lacked, true friendship and love. When I made my decision to follow Christ, problems and adversity did not disappear. Sometimes they seemed to increase, but I always said to myself, ‘There can’t be any halfway disciples. You must either follow Him or turn away from following.’ I am grateful to say that I always chose to follow. Like María Josefina, I, too, am acquainted with repentance. When one comes to truly understand this principle, he feels a great power in his life. The Church has made my life progress. I am progressing in the gospel and feel a very great love for all my fellow Saints everywhere.”

Finally, my life as a scientist has deepened my faith in God in many ways. But many do not view faith in God and science as compatible endeavors. Several years ago, I was invited to a conference for promising young scientists in Alzheimer’s disease research. It was a competition and we each submitted our best grant ideas and then we met together to evaluate and rank each other’s proposals. The winner would take home a $50,000 grant to carry out their proposal. The meeting organizers and participants worked together over two days, and we got to know each other really well during the meetings and discussion as we evaluated and critiqued each other’s work. At the closing dinner I was seated with several other participants and one of the senior faculty who was on the board for the conference. After some brief pleasantries, the board member looked at me and said, “Brigham Young University, huh?” (That’s where I was employed as a faculty member at the time.)

“Yes,” I replied.

“So, you believe that stuff?” they said. (Remember this in front of a whole table of people.)

A bit surprised, I said, “Yes, I do.”

They looked me in the eyes, and then said, “But Keoni, you seem so smart. How do you believe that stuff?”

I paused, thought for a moment, and replied, “Yes, thanks. I have had several experiences in my life that make me a person of faith, and specifically a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”

The person rolled their eyes and said, “Ugh…like what?”

At that moment, the meeting organizer tapped his glass with his knife and announced that my proposal was ranked number one in the competition. That was the end of our conversation.

There are voices all around us that would make light of believing. They are practiced, polished and persistent. As you face these kinds of challenges in your life, please remember President Nelson’s powerful words, “I promise that you will experience spiritual growth, freedom from fear, and a confidence that you can scarcely imagine now. You will have the strength to have a positive influence far beyond your natural capacity. And I promise that your future will be more exhilarating than anything you can presently believe.” [5]

I know that that promise is real. I have experienced it. Since that day, where I was challenged at that dinner table, I have had a scientific career with success that I can hardly believe: millions of dollars of grants and over a hundred research papers and work from my lab that matters that significantly influenced our knowledge of Alzheimer’s disease. I am even blessed to be part of a team that is developing a promising new drug that humans are taking right now. It’s amazing and I know that it’s because of that promise of the Lord.

When I was a young man in the Aaronic Priesthood, we boys used to stand in our quorum meetings and repeat in unison, “Priesthood means service. Bearing the priesthood, I will serve.” This was our weekly pledge. It was part of every quorum meeting. Most of us began to understand that honoring the priesthood required our being active and serving in the Church.
In those days we played a lot of tennis. We knew that in tennis, if we didn’t serve well, we usually didn’t win. Our priesthood leaders taught us the same concept insofar as the Church was concerned. They helped us learn to serve at the proper time and in the proper way.
No boy or man fully possesses the priesthood until he learns to serve others and the Lord. It is true that someone with authority may bestow the priesthood by the laying on of hands, but until we do something by way of service to others, the priesthood lies dormant within us and is of little value. We must not fail to magnify the callings we receive.
During the past few months, I have felt that I might best serve by encouraging and helping all members to feel the necessity of keeping the simple doctrines of the gospel simple. I strongly feel that the gospel was given to us in a simple, plain, and clear manner. My mission president taught us that the gospel of Jesus Christ is beautifully simple and simply beautiful. The tendency of many is to complicate these lovely, simple requirements that the Lord has given to us.
Nothing is more simple than prayer. The Savior, while upon the earth, gave the example and commanded all to follow in His footsteps. If we have faith that our Heavenly Father lives and that we can commune with Him in a very direct way, then prayer becomes one of the most beautiful, lovely, simple acts that we can do.
I have a strong testimony that the Lord does hear and answer prayers. We are obligated to thank Him. We are obligated to converse with Him in such a way that there are no obstacles between us and our Father in Heaven. From the very beginning, the Lord has instructed His earthly children to remember Him in prayer.
One morning a good many years ago, a member of the Council of the Twelve came to my office and told me of a beautiful, touching experience that had happened to him that day. He had gone to the old Deseret Gym to enjoy the steam bath for a while. As he sat there in the heavy steam, he heard the door open and looked upward toward the door to see who was entering. He could not see anyone, but he had a feeling someone else was there in the room with him. After a few minutes he saw a young Primary-age boy about eight or nine years old who had seated himself two or three feet away. The boy gradually slid closer to the Apostle, and they finally said “hello” to each other. Then the boy moved even closer until he could look up into the face of the Church leader. The little boy said, “Mister, I think I know who you are.” The Apostle said, “Who am I?” The boy said, “I think you are one of the Apostles of the Church. I think you are the one who travels all over the ocean on big boats and little boats and all kinds of airplanes—and you are the one who never gets sick or hurt in any wrecks.” The Apostle acknowledged that he was the one who was having those great experiences. The boy then said to him, “Do you know why it is you don’t ever get killed or get hurt?” The Apostle said, “No, why is that?” The little Primary boy said, “That’s because I pray for you.”
What a touching, lovely expression of faith in a simple, wonderful way! This experience happened forty years ago, but I think of it frequently. There is far more power in simple prayer than many of us think possible.
My brothers and sisters, thousands, and even hundreds of thousands, of people pray for their loved ones each and every day. Great numbers pray for the leaders of the Church, particularly for our prophet, President Benson. I am convinced that the Lord hears the simple prayers of all people. I am sure He hears the prayer of the aged widow as well as the little child who prays with simple, plain, and understandable faith. I am also certain that a loving Heavenly Father appreciates the sincere, regular prayers of the faithful much more than the hurried, urgent appeals given only in times of crisis.
May the Lord bless and help us all to have the courage to pray with our families. Nothing is more wonderful than for parents to gather their children around them and enjoy the special, tender moments of communing with our Heavenly Father in family prayer. Nothing binds a family together more; and nothing puts us in a position to receive His blessings more than compliance with that wonderful commandment and privilege. Even for those of us who no longer have children at home, the blessing of praying together as companions is wonderful. The faithful person living alone is also lifted up and richly rewarded through humble, secret prayer.
Jesus said, “Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 18:3).
May the Lord bless us and help us all to serve Him with simple, childlike faith, simple forgiveness and repentance, and especially with simple prayer, that we may enjoy the strength, power, and beauty that come from the plain and simple things of the gospel, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

The background, in a word, is that the Prophet had promised those brethren in the name of the Lord that he would defend them even if it meant giving up his life. Had he been all alone in the Carthage Jail, the story might be different, but he was not.

He was there with two members of the Twelve, John Taylor and Willard Richards – Willard Richards weighing over three hundred pounds, the largest target (and the only one who would not be injured) – and with his brother Hyrum. He did defend them as he had promised. In fact, we now know from the records that the first man up the stairs that day, anxious and eager, was met by a fist and rolled back down. That fist was Joseph Smith’s.

Inside the room they had nothing to defend themselves with except two pistols, plus two walking sticks which they used in an effort to divert the rifles. Some of the balls went off in the ceiling. When Jacob Hablin and James W. Woods visited the room shortly after the martyrdom they counted the pockmarks of the balls that were shot through the door or doorway. There were thirty-six. According to Willard Richards, all that shooting occurred in less than two minutes. Both Hyrum and Joseph received five balls; John Taylor, four.

The previous night, the Prophet had had some private conversations. We know that he had borne to the guards his testimony of the Book of Mormon and the Restoration, and later his last testimony to the brethren present. We know also that earlier he had pleaded three times with Hyrum for Hyrum to leave him and go back. Hyrum could only say, “Joseph, I can’t leave you.” Hyrum, it turns out was the first to be killed.

How did the Prophet make the decision to leave that room, or to try to leave it, through the window? Films depict Joseph falling off balance out through a large glass plate window. This was a jail. Even the upstairs had walls as thick as two feet. The window was small, and Joseph was a large man, and for him to get through it required considerable effort.

Willard Richards used the strangest adverb in his whole account when he said that after emptying the pistol (which misfired a couple of times) the Prophet turned from the door, dropped the pistol, and went to the window.

It is difficult to understand how anybody could have heard the words in such a fracas, but one man, outside the jail, claimed he heard the Prophet cry, “Oh Lord, what shall I do?”

How fast can a man’s mind work in such circumstances? What was going through his? It was certain death at the door, that was clear. It was certain death at the window, because balls were coming through it, and John Taylor had just been blasted under the bed, writhing in pain with four wounds. Yet Joseph decided to get out – hoping, Willard Richards believed, that it might save the lives of his brethren.

Whether that was his intent or not, he was hit from behind – twice, maybe three times – but managed anyway to pull himself up and out, and then – from the window. “He’s leaped the window!” someone shouted, and those on the landing rushed downstairs and outside. “Shoot him, – shoot him!” said Levi Williams, and they shot several times more.

One account says that the Prophet died with a smile. Perhaps he was conscious long enough to know that the promise he had made to Willard Richards had been fulfilled: “Willard . . . you will stand where the balls will fly around you like hail and men will fall dead by your side, and . . . there never shall a ball injure you.” Perhaps he knew that John Taylor would become the third prophet, seer, and revelator.

A little over a year ago, I was released from my assignment in the Presidency of the Seventy, a change announced here at general conference. Because my name was read near those of General Authorities becoming emeritus, many assumed I was also finishing my time of service. After the conference, I received numerous messages of gratitude and good wishes for my next phase in life. Some even offered to buy my house in North Salt Lake. It was nice to see that I would be missed and also to know we will not have trouble selling our home when I am done. But I am not there yet.
My new assignment took Monica and me to beautiful Africa, where the Church is flourishing. It has been a blessing to serve among the faithful Saints in the Africa South Area and witness the Lord’s love for them. It’s inspiring to see generational families of all backgrounds, including many successful and well-educated Church members, dedicating their time and talents to serve others.
At the same time, given the region’s demographics, many people of modest means are joining the Church and transforming their lives through the blessings of tithing faithfulness and the educational opportunities offered by the Church. Programs such as Succeed in School, EnglishConnect, BYU–Pathway Worldwide, and the Perpetual Education Fund bless many lives, especially those of the rising generation.
President James E. Faust once stated, “It has been said that this church does not necessarily attract great people but more often makes ordinary people great.”
The greatness of our Saints in Africa becomes even more evident as they face life’s challenges and the demands of a growing Church. They always approach it with a positive attitude. They embody well the well-known teaching from President Russell M. Nelson:
“The joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives.
“When the focus of our lives is on God’s plan of salvation … and Jesus Christ and His gospel, we can feel joy regardless of what is happening—or not happening—in our lives.”
They find joy despite their challenges. They have learned that our relationship with the Savior enables us to approach difficulties with smiling faces and grateful hearts.
Let me share some of my experiences with these faithful Saints who illustrate this principle, starting with Mozambique.
A few months ago, I presided over a stake conference for a one-year-old stake that already had 10 units. More than 2,000 people filled the small chapel and three tents that were set outside. The stake president is 31 years old, his wife is 26, and they have two small children. He leads this growing and challenging stake with no complaints—only a smiling face and a grateful heart.
In an interview with the patriarch, I learned that his wife was seriously ill, and he struggled to provide for her care. After addressing the issue with the stake president, we gave her a priesthood blessing. I inquired of the patriarch how many patriarchal blessings he gives on average.
“Eight to ten,” he said.
I asked, “Per month?”
He replied, “Per week!” I counseled him that doing that many per weekend was not wise.
“Elder Godoy,” he said, “they keep coming every week, including new members and many youths.” Again, no complaints—only a smiling face and a grateful heart.
After the Saturday evening session of stake conference, on my way to the hotel, I noticed people buying food along the road late at night. I asked my driver why they were doing it when it was so dark rather than during the day. He responded that they were working during the day to have the money to do it later.
“Oh, they were working today to eat tomorrow,” I said.
But he corrected me: “No, they were working during the day to eat tonight.” I had hoped our members might be in a better situation, but he confirmed that many faced similar challenges in that part of the country. The next morning, during our Sunday session and newly aware of their circumstances, I was even more moved by their smiling faces and grateful hearts.
On the way to a Sunday meeting, the stake president and I saw a couple walking along the road with a baby and two small children. We stopped to offer them a ride. They were surprised and delighted. When I asked how far they needed to walk to the chapel, the father replied that it could take 45 minutes to an hour, depending on the children’s pace. They faced this journey back and forth, every Sunday, with no complaints—only smiling faces and grateful hearts.
One Sunday before a stake conference, I visited two branches using public schools as meetinghouses. I was shocked by the humble and modest conditions of the buildings, which lacked even some basic amenities. As I met a few members there, I was ready to apologize for the inadequate conditions of their meetinghouse, but they were happy to have a nearby place to gather, avoiding the usual long walk. Again, there were no complaints—only smiling faces and grateful hearts.
Following a Saturday of leadership training, the stake president took me to Sunday services held in a rented house. There were 240 people in attendance. Then the bishop introduced 10 new members baptized that week. The congregation was spread across two small rooms, with some members also sitting outside the building, watching the meeting through windows and doors. There were no complaints—only smiling faces and grateful hearts.
I visited this beautiful small country, also known as “the mountain kingdom,” to see a Church district preparing to become a stake. Following a Saturday of meetings, I attended Sunday services in one of their branches in a rented house. The sacramental room was overflowing, with people standing outside the door to participate. I told the branch president that he needed a bigger house. To my surprise, he informed me that this was only half of his membership. The other half would attend a second sacrament meeting after the second hour. Again, there were no complaints—only smiling faces and grateful hearts.
I returned to Lesotho later due to a fatal traffic accident involving several of our youth, already mentioned by Elder D. Todd Christofferson earlier. When I visited the families and leaders, I expected a somber atmosphere. Instead, I encountered strong and resilient Saints who were coping with the situation in an uplifting and inspiring way.
Mpho Aniciah Nku, 14, a surviving accident victim in this picture, illustrated it well in her own words: “Trust in Jesus and always look unto Him, because through Him you’ll find peace, and He will help you in the healing process.”
These are just a few examples where we see their positive attitude because they center their lives in the gospel of Jesus Christ. They know where to find help and hope.

“I hated being in the hospital, and I felt like I was in prison,” says Diane. For one month of the five she was in the hospital, she was in traction and couldn’t move at all except when the nurses came in and turned her a few centimeters every two hours. Diane had no idea she’d be in the hospital for so long. “In fact, when I was first injured I thought for sure that in a month I’d be back on the tour. I thought, ‘If I have enough faith and believe in God and in myself, I’ll be okay.’ And I just knew it.”

Recovery wasn’t quite so easy though, and things seemed to get worse. “I was a horrible patient,” says Diane. “In the hospital I was really miserable because I was so restless. I was really impatient with people.” Finally Diane came to a turning point.

“One day I was in the depths of despair. I just felt like I couldn’t bear it anymore,” Diane says. She asked for a priesthood blessing. She knew the power to heal her was present, “but I only wanted that to happen if it was Heavenly Father’s will. I had this blessing and I felt the greatest sense of peace. It was like I knew that no matter what happened it would be okay. If I didn’t walk away from the hospital there would be a reason for it. I knew that I had always tried my best to live the gospel and do what I was supposed to do, so if anybody was worthy to have that blessing, I was. But from that point on I was a different person. I was totally comforted.”

I was named the winner of the speech contest, and the gift I received for winning the speech contest was a copy of Jesus the Christ by James E. Talmage. I took it home and read it. It was written by an Apostle and was full of the words of the scriptures. My feelings for the Savior, which had been tender before, became profound. I was drawn to Him and found that the words of the scriptures helped me to know Him and taste of His love. What began as a goal to read the Book of Mormon to know of its truth became a lifelong hunger and thirst to know Him and His word—a thirst that is satisfied fully and deliciously by reading, pondering, living, and sharing the truths of the Book of Mormon.

“I learned what it means to give. These people give when their wells are nearly dry. We were each given a loaf of bread at one home visit, and then a fourth loaf was divided up among the nine children and their mother. We were invited to a sister’s home to share the small birthday cake of her two-year-old son. His birthday wasn’t until the next day, but she knew we wouldn’t be there, and so it was cut especially for us. It was, perhaps, a small gesture, but it was a sacrifice on their part and a great lesson in giving.”
Cheri CarrWilton, California

One Sunday morning when I was only five years old, I was playing with a neighbor’s cat. Eventually the cat got tired of playing with me and ran into a nearby cornfield. I wasn’t tired of playing with the cat, however, so I followed him into the field.
The corn was very high, and when I couldn’t find the animal, I finally decided to go home. It didn’t take long to discover that I didn’t know where I was, and I had no idea where home was. I was lost in the large cornfield.
As I wandered around, the corn seemed to get taller and taller until it reached the sky. I was disoriented and felt more and more frightened. I began to run, yelling for help, but the wind drowned out my cries. I got very hot and sweaty, and the corn tassels scratched my skin. I didn’t know what to do.
As I was rushing through the cornfield, I remembered a lesson my Primary teacher had taught only a few weeks earlier. “If you’re ever frightened,” she had said, “or if you’re ever lost, get down on your knees and pray.”
Then I remembered my parents telling me the same thing as we knelt in daily family prayer. “Heavenly Father cares about you,” my mother and father had taught me. “He will always hear your prayers. He will take care of you.”
As soon as I remembered the words my parents and my Primary teacher had spoken, I dropped down on my knees. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I know I shared my thoughts and fears with the Lord.
After my prayer, I felt very peaceful. My parents and Primary teacher had told me Heavenly Father would hear my prayers, so I knew help was on the way. I was tired from running around so much, so I decided to rest until someone came. I promptly lay down and fell asleep.
It wasn’t long before my mother realized I was no longer in our yard. She had seen me playing with the cat, so she guessed I had followed it somewhere. She began searching for me. A block from our home, she saw the cat near a large irrigation canal and feared the worst. She thought that I had fallen in and drowned.
She ran home and sent my older sister to the nearby church building, where my father and other priesthood holders were gathered for a meeting. Mother then fell to her knees and immediately began praying to Heavenly Father, asking Him to protect me. She promised that if I was found safe, she would do all she could to make sure that I was raised in righteousness.
After pouring her heart out to the Lord, Mother stood up. As she did, she thought of the neighboring cornfield. She ran outside to begin searching there. Some of the men from the meetinghouse met her, and she told them that she thought I might be lost somewhere inside the acres of corn.
Some men searched along the irrigation canal while others began searching through the tall stalks of corn. One of them, Bud Phillips, found me quietly sleeping. He picked me up and carried me to Mother, who was weeping. I remember wondering why everyone was making such a fuss. After all, I had prayed and I knew that everything would be fine.
My prayers and my mother’s were answered, and she always did all she could to see that I was raised in righteousness.

I well remember a young couple who started farming in Idaho years ago. They had modest means, but they paid down payment on 40 acres of raw land. They were going into the raising of fruit—peaches particularly. They had leveled the land, brought out the laterals, planted the trees, and then weeded and irrigated and watched until the time had come when they’d have a harvest. This particular spring the orchard was a sea of blossoms, and it looked as though they were going to have a bounteous harvest. Then one night without warning, there came a frost that wiped out practically the entire crop overnight. Well, young John didn’t go to church the next Sunday, nor the next Sunday, nor the next Sunday. Finally his good old bishop came out to see what was wrong. He found John out in the field, and he said, “John, we haven’t seen you in church for several weeks. What’s the matter? Is anything wrong?” John said, “No, bishop, I’m not coming anymore. Do you think I can worship a God who would let this happen to me?” And then he went on to explain to the bishop what had happened. Of course, the bishop felt sorrowful too, and he expressed it to John. And as he looked down at the ground for a moment, he said, “John, I’m sure the Lord knows that you can’t produce the best peaches with frost. But I’m also sure he knows that you can’t produce the best men without frost, and the Lord is interested in producing men, not peaches.” Well, John went to church the next Sunday, and another year a harvest came. He later became a bishop in the Church.

It was the Christmas season of 1994. Nine-year-old Jaron and his six-year-old brother, Parker, were excited. They had entered a reading contest sponsored by a grocery store in their hometown. The two students who read the most books would each win a brand-new bicycle. All they had to do was have their parents and teachers sign for each book they read. Two bikes were to be awarded, one for the first-to-third-grade levels, and one for the fourth-to-sixth-grade levels.
Parker was especially excited because this was a way for him to earn a bike. He really wanted one. He was tired of watching his older brother ride around on the new purple ten-speed bike he had earned by working at a yard sale. Parker thought that it would be great to earn a bike of his own by reading books. So he started to read books as fast as he could. He read Curious George, Green Eggs and Ham, and Brown Bear, Brown Bear. But no matter how many books he read, someone in his grade level had read more.
Meanwhile, Jaron had not been all that enthusiastic about the contest. When he went to the grocery store and checked the big chart with all the readers listed and how many books each had read, however, he could see that his younger brother had little chance of winning the contest.
Touched with the true meaning of Christmas, the joy of giving, he decided to do for Parker what he could not do for himself. So Jaron put away his own bike and, library card in hand, went to work. He read and read. He read when he wanted to ride his bike. He read as much as eight hours a day. The thrill of perhaps having such a wonderful gift to give kept him going.
The day came when the final lists were to be turned in. Jaron’s mother took him to the store, and he turned in his list, then admired the prize-winners bikes on display.
The store manager watched him admire the shiny red twenty-inch bike. “I suppose that if you win the contest,” the manager said, “you’ll want the larger bike, won’t you?”
Jaron looked up at the man’s smiling face and said very seriously, “Oh, no sir. I would like one exactly this size.”
“But isn’t this bike too small for you?”
“No sir—I want to win it for my little brother.”
The man was surprised. He turned to Jaron’s mother and said, “This is the best Christmas story I’ve heard all year!”
Jaron’s mother hadn’t known that he had worked so hard for his little brother. She looked at Jaron with great pride and joy as they went home to await the contest results.
Finally the phone call came! By reading 280 books, Jaron had won! With his parents’ help, he hid the bicycle in his grandma’s basement until Christmas Eve. He could hardly wait to give Parker his gift!
On Christmas Eve, the whole family gathered at Grandma’s home for a special family home evening. Mother told the story of Heavenly Father’s gift to the world of His Son Jesus Christ. Then she told the story of another older brother’s love. Although it wasn’t the great sacrifice the Savior has made for each of us, she said, it was a sacrifice, and it showed how much the older brother loved his younger brother. Parker and his family listened to the story of a brother who had read 280 books to win his little brother a bike.
“My big brother would do something like that for me,” Parker said.
At that, Jaron ran to the other room, where Grandma had moved the bike. The rest of the family proudly grinned while he wheeled out the two-wheeled treasure he had earned for his younger brother. Parker ran over to the bike, and the brothers hugged over the top of it.

The completion of the Kirtland Temple was foundational for the entire Church. It was accompanied by spiritual outpourings, doctrinal revelations, and restoration of essential keys for the continuing establishment of the Church. Like the ancient Apostles on the day of Pentecost, many members experienced marvelous spiritual experiences in connection with the dedication of the Kirtland Temple. But, as in our own lives, this did not mean they wouldn’t face challenges or hardships going forward. Little did these early members know they would be faced with a United States financial crisis—the panic of 1837—that would test their very souls.

One example of the challenges related to this financial crisis was experienced by Elder Parley P. Pratt, one of the great leaders of the Restoration. He was an original member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. In the early part of 1837, his dear wife, Thankful, died after delivering their first child. Parley and Thankful had been married almost 10 years, and her death devastated him.

A few months later, Elder Pratt found himself in one of the most difficult times the Church has experienced. In the midst of the national crisis, local economic issues—including land speculation and the struggles of a financial institution founded by Joseph Smith and other Church members—created discord and contention in Kirtland. Church leaders did not always make wise temporal decisions in their own lives. Parley suffered significant financial losses and for a time became disaffected with the Prophet Joseph. He wrote a stinging criticism to Joseph and spoke in opposition of him from the pulpit. At the same time, Parley said he continued to believe in the Book of Mormon and the Doctrine and Covenants.

Elder Pratt had lost his wife, his land, and his home. Parley, without telling Joseph, left for Missouri. On the road there, he unexpectedly met fellow Apostles Thomas B. Marsh and David Patten returning to Kirtland. They felt a great need to have harmony restored to the Quorum and persuaded Parley to return with them. He realized that no one had lost more than Joseph Smith and his family.

Parley sought out the Prophet, wept, and confessed that what he had done was wrong. In the months after his wife, Thankful’s, death, Parley had been “under a dark cloud” and had been overcome by fears and frustrations. Joseph, knowing what it was like to struggle against opposition and temptation, “frankly forgave” Parley, praying for him and blessing him. Parley and others who remained faithful benefited from the Kirtland challenges. They increased in wisdom and became more noble and virtuous. The experience became part of their foundations of faith.