Gospel Story Finder

As a teenager, I dreaded church.
I believed the gospel was true, and I knew that attending church was necessary for me to continue to grow spiritually. But I often felt inadequate.
In my mind, I thought I couldn’t live up to everyone’s expectations of what a good member of the Church should be like (or what I thought everyone’s expectations were). Everyone else seemed to be bubbly, outgoing, eloquent, and always willing to bear testimony or say a prayer. But me? I was quiet and I felt anxious in social situations. So I didn’t feel like I had a light to shine as a member of the Church.
During college I moved into a new apartment, and my roommate introduced me to her friends in the ward. I immediately felt like I belonged with them because of their love and acceptance they showed me. I felt like they genuinely wanted to get to know me. To my surprise, I felt a great deal of my social anxiety subside.
I realized this sense of belonging didn’t come from a change in scenery, but from a changed perspective. I learned that I don’t have to be outgoing to be a disciple of Jesus Christ. There is strength in quiet. There is strength in listening and pondering. By recognizing my strengths as a more introverted person and tackling my weaknesses related to social anxiety, I found a middle ground that helped me survive—and even thrive in the gospel.
One question I asked myself was why I even went to church in the first place. I went to take the sacrament, to learn more about Jesus Christ, and to be worthy of the temple. But the scriptures also tell us that “the body [of the Church] hath need of every member, that all may be edified together” (Doctrine and Covenants 84:110; see also Ephesians 4:12).
While church meetings nourish our own testimonies, I realized that church is not only about me. We individually remember the Savior as we take the sacrament, but we are edified together as we share this ordinance as a congregation.
I was too concerned about what others thought about me and not concerned enough with the principle that should guide us in all our thoughts and actions: love. The prophet Mormon wrote, “I fear not what man can do; for perfect love casteth out all fear” (Moroni 8:16).
I realized that I don’t have to be best friends with everyone or be the most popular person in the ward. What is most important is not the quantity of my social interaction but the quality of my relationships. Instead of worrying about everyone at once, I just focus on connecting with one person each week at church.
Church is still a challenge sometimes, but as I have gently pushed myself to step outside my comfort zone and overcome my social anxiety, I have felt the Savior’s love for me and for all of His children. I am beginning to find my place. I know I’ve received grace through the Atonement of Jesus Christ to work toward overcoming my weaknesses and to use my strengths to build up the kingdom of God.

As a young Primary girl, I worked diligently to cross-stitch a simple saying which read, “I will bring the light of the gospel into my home.” One weekday afternoon as we girls pulled our needles up and down through the fabric, our teacher told us the story of a girl who lived on a hill on one side of a valley. Each late afternoon she noticed on the hill on the opposite side of the valley a house that had shining, golden windows. Her own home was small and somewhat shabby, and the girl dreamed of living in that beautiful house with windows of gold.

One day the girl was given permission to ride her bike across the valley. She eagerly rode until she reached the house with the golden windows that she had admired for so long. But when she dismounted from her bike, she saw that the house was abandoned and dilapidated, with tall weeds in the yard and windows that were plain and dirty. Sadly, the girl turned her face toward home. To her surprise, she saw a house with shining, golden windows on the hill across the valley and soon realized it was her very own home!8

Heiko Mazurek
Twenty-five years ago Heiko Mazurek was a young German music student in Vienna, Austria. One day he was walking down the street when a Book of Mormon display caught his eye. So he stopped to talk with the missionaries, and they gave him a copy of the Book of Mormon. He began to read it and to accept the missionary discussions. Eventually he was baptized.

Shortly after his baptism he moved back to his home in Germany to accept a teaching position in a music school. As the mission president at the time, I was concerned that a new convert might get lost in the shuffle of moving away so shortly after baptism. I called Heiko’s new stake president and asked him if he could give Heiko some special attention to assure that he remained active and committed to the kingdom.

A few weeks after Heiko’s arrival in Germany, his caring stake president invited him to travel three hours by train to a Saturday stake priesthood meeting to share his conversion story with the brethren. Heiko accepted the invitation with much fear and trepidation.

He’d never spoken to a large audience before, so the evening prior to his appointed speech Heiko spent a rather sleepless night tossing and turning. When the alarm clock finally rang, he turned it off and promised himself he would just sleep for a few more minutes and then get up. (Does this sound familiar?) However, he was so exhausted from his fitful night’s sleep that he awoke too late to catch the last morning train in time to arrive at the stake center to give his talk.

He hurriedly dressed and rode his bike to the small airport outside of town, and although he was a financially struggling musician, he chartered a small plane for $400 to fly him to his destination.

The stake president phoned me in Vienna after the meeting and described how Heiko had arrived all out of breath, but he gave a wonderful and inspiring testimony, and all in attendance were grateful for the sacrifice he had made to attend.

Several months later Heiko visited us in Vienna, and he recounted his experience of chartering a plane to the priesthood meeting. When he concluded, I asked: “Heiko, why didn’t you just call up President Rueckauer and tell him you would not be able to make it to the meeting and that you would be willing to speak on some future occasion?”

Heiko looked at me indignantly as he said: “President Condie, when the missionaries taught me the gospel, they explained the importance of commitments and of making covenants, and they said that when we make a promise to the Lord or one of His servants, we are expected to keep our word.” (See Spencer J. Condie, In Perfect Balance [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 2004], 127–29.) To this day Heiko continues striving to do good continually, and Church members still introduce him to their nonmember friends as “the legendary guy with the airplane.”

Carlos was excited for Christmas. This year there was something different in his home. A large tree made of shiny green paper was attached to the door.
Mom, why is there a tree on the door?
We’re going to do something a little different for Christmas this year.
Carlos wondered what would be different. His sister, Araceli, and his little brother, Diego, wondered too.
I made these paper ornaments for the tree. Each day we will write something about Jesus Christ on an ornament and then put it on the tree. By Christmas Eve, the whole tree will be covered!
Carlos liked that idea. Araceli ran to the ornaments and grabbed a red pencil.
Jesus was baptized.
That’s a good one. Can I write that Jesus did many miracles?
That would be perfect. You both have great ideas!
Every night after dinner, Araceli and Carlos made another ornament and put it on the tree. Diego helped by saying, “I love Jesus!”
When it was hard to think of more ideas, they looked in the scriptures. Carlos didn’t know there were so many verses about Jesus!
On Christmas Eve the whole family sang songs and read the ornaments they had put on the tree. Carlos was happy he knew so much about Jesus. He was all ready for Christmas.

Many spiritual nutrients come while serving on a mission—from being totally involved in the work of the Master. They come from helping people become spiritually awake so that they can accept the gospel. Over a century ago when Elder J. Golden Kimball presided over the Southern States Mission, he called for a meeting of the elders. They were to meet in a secluded spot in the woods so they would have privacy. One of the elders had a problem with one of his legs. It was raw and swollen to at least twice the size of his other leg. But the elder insisted on attending this special priesthood meeting in the woods. So two of the elders carried him to this meeting place.
Elder Kimball asked the missionaries, “Brethren, what are you preaching?”
They said, “We are preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ.”
“Are you telling these people that you have the power and authority, through faith, to heal the sick?” he asked.
They said, “Yes.”
“Well then,” he continued, “why don’t you believe it?”
The young man with the swollen leg spoke up and said, “I believe it.” Here is the rest of the story told in Elder Kimball’s words: “[The elder] sat down on a stump and the elders gathered around him. He was anointed and I administered to him, and he was healed right in their presence. It was quite a shock; and every other elder that was sick was administered to, and they were all healed. We went out of that priesthood meeting and the elders received their appointments, and there was a joy and happiness that cannot be described.” Their nutrient of faith had been replenished and their zeal for missionary work revived.

Since receiving her patriarchal blessing, sharing the gospel with family and relatives has always been on my mom’s mind. One day, she was talking to my sister, Jiyon, about it and asked what she could do to share the gospel with relatives. My sister’s answer was funny yet profound, “Wait until they all die.” We are not waiting for every relative to die, but we are doing a lot of work for the dead.

My mom reads the records that are written in Chinese characters and writes them on a separate piece of paper. By 2007, my mom had hundreds of sheets written, which meant tens of thousands of names waiting to be entered. Back then, GEDCOM files were made first. Then, those files were sent to a Korean sister, Sister Seong, who worked in the Family History Center to upload to the Church genealogy system. I started feeling I needed to do genealogy and enter those names into the GEDCOM system. My sister even bought me a computer to do that, but I didn’t jump right into it. Apparently, my ancestors were getting impatient. In the summer of 2007, I was laid off from my job. I was angry for less than a second. Then a clear and strong impression came, "Perfect! I can do genealogy!" I could never quit a job without lining up a new job because my mom would bury me alive. However, by divine intervention, I got six months of uninterrupted time to do genealogy. I knew this time was given to me to enter those names of my ancestors. The first couple of days, I was getting the feel of how long it would take to enter those names. I calculated if I entered about 1,000 names a day, I could finish it in six months. I prayed and asked Heavenly Father that I would not get a job before I finished entering the names. I did this every day. I woke up and entered the names. It was like a full-time job. Those six months were the most spiritual and happiest time in my life, even more spiritual than being a missionary or an MTC teacher. By the time I finished, it took a little under six months. A week after I finished, I got a job offer. Again, in the Lord’s mysterious way, He turned an unpleasant situation into a life-changing experience. It was a time of perspective shift.

Jimmie has stuck with Highland dancing even though it took a back seat to soccer for a while. Now he’s working on qualifying as a dance instructor. He could have qualified four years ago, but changing teachers twice slowed him down. Of course, he has learned a wide variety of styles by having three different teachers.
Jimmie still competes with his band, which has won most of the competitions around, but he has given up dance competitions for a while. “My main aim is to become a qualified dancing teacher,” he says.

by Ed Eaton
The huge Seattle Coliseum, built for the 1962 World’s Fair, proved too small for the 12-stake youth dance festival held there last spring. Nearly 2,400 young men and women from 96 wards filled the first several rows of the 14,000-seat coliseum as they awaited their turns to perform a variety of modern, folk, and conventional dances. The rest of the arena was packed with parents and friends who had first call on the free tickets.
When coordinator Susan Kinghorn of the Redmond Washington Stake and several ward specialists began planning the event, they anticipated about 800 youth, the number who had participated the last time such a large festival had been planned. But by opening night the number had swollen to 2,400 excited participants.
Elder James M. Paramore of the First Quorum of the Seventy addressed the youth during the first—and final—combined rehearsal. He spoke with them about personal commitment and pointed to the dedication President Kimball demonstrates in all he does.
“He decided early that his first commitment would be to the Lord,” said Elder Paramore. “There are no shortcuts.”
He also stressed President Kimball’s commitment to people, referring to the prophet’s frequent visits to the widows and the ill and the many letters he writes personally thanking people, “lifting them.”
“Commitment,” said Elder Paramore, “is doing what everyone else could do but doesn’t.”
Following the three-hour performance that night, Elder Paramore left his seat in the audience to join, arm-in-arm, with the youth as they sang, “I Am a Child of God.” It was an electric moment in the lives of the 14,000 members of the Church and their friends in the Seattle Coliseum.
Participating in the program were dancers from the Bellevue, Bremerton, Everett, Lynnwood, Federal Way, Puyallup, Mount Vernon, Redmond, Renton, Seattle, Seattle North, and Tacoma stakes in Washington.

It was a hot summer day, and I was six years old. My mom took my three sisters and me on a wonderful holiday to Hornby Island, British Columbia. The island has wonderful beaches. We collected crabs and created habitats for them to play in before we let them go at the end of the day. We built sandcastles and took bike rides.
One day I was in an inflatable tube. I wasn’t wearing a life jacket. I lay down on my tube and closed my eyes. The water gently rocked me back and forth, lulling me to sleep. I didn’t realize how quickly the wind was moving me away from the shore. When I opened my eyes, I found myself moving swiftly past a large sailboat out into the open waves. I became frightened and wondered what to do. I began to pray for help and safety. I also screamed for help. A man heard my cries and came to my rescue. He swam out and pulled me to shore. Soon I was safe in my mom’s arms. I know that Heavenly Father answered my prayers that day.Martha B., age 6Alberta, Canada

Some time ago, my wife and I took our two youngest sons to France to tour the areas I had served in as a full-time missionary. We visited branches of the Church I had served in and rejoiced with members I had taught. We also visited historical sites.
One site was the ruins of the Château de Châlucet. This massive medieval castle was attacked and largely destroyed centuries ago. Vegetation had grown all around the ruins, and the trail to get there was narrow and steep. We had a difficult climb, but it was worth the effort once we arrived.
The boys loved climbing down into what was once the dungeon and high up on what little was left of the castle walls. The castle captivated their imaginations just as it had captivated mine 24 years earlier.
While we were there, a summer storm appeared in the distance. It moved in fast. Dark clouds and lightning filled the sky, followed by great claps of thunder.
We scrambled down the trail and made a run for the car as the storm raced toward us. Soon, torrential, pounding rain drenched us and the dirt trail turned to mud. We worried that we would lose our footing and fall down the steep, rocky trail.
We spotted some shelter among the trees on the edge of the path. We huddled together under the shelter and wondered how long we would have to wait to get back down.
“Let’s say a prayer,” our youngest son said.
He asked to offer it and prayed that the rain would stop so we could get down the hill safely. He looked at us and said, “Now all we need is enough faith.”
I explained that prayers don’t always work like that.
“No,” he said, “it’ll stop in 10 minutes!”
After about 10 minutes, the rain stopped.
“OK, let’s go!” he said.
“If we leave now, the rain will start again and we’ll be trapped,” our older son said.
“It won’t!” our youngest replied. “Let’s go!”
We made our way through the drier parts of the path, holding back bushes and branches as we went. Back at the car, we offered a prayer of gratitude. Soon the rain started again.
“See what a little faith can do?” our son said humbly.
He taught us all a great lesson that day.

Shortly after my mission, while a student at Brigham Young University, I received a phone call from my dad. He told me that he had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and that although his chances of survival were not good, he was determined to be healed and return to his normal life activities. That phone call was a sobering moment for me. My dad had been my bishop, my friend, and my adviser. As my mother, my siblings, and I contemplated the future, it appeared bleak. My younger brother, Dave, was serving a mission in New York and participated long-distance in these difficult family events.
The medical providers of the day suggested surgery to try and curtail the spread of the cancer. Our family earnestly fasted and prayed for a miracle. I felt that we had sufficient faith that my father could be healed. Just prior to the surgery, my older brother, Norm, and I gave my dad a blessing. With all the faith we could muster, we prayed that he would be healed.
The surgery was scheduled to last many hours, but after just a short time, the doctor came to the waiting room to meet with our family. He told us that as they began the surgery, they could see that the cancer had spread throughout my father’s body. Based upon what they observed, my father had just a few months to live. We were devastated.
As my father awakened from the surgery, he was anxious to learn if the procedure had been successful. We shared with him the grim news.
We continued to fast and pray for a miracle. As my father’s health quickly declined, we began to pray that he could be free of pain. Eventually, as his condition worsened, we asked the Lord to allow him to pass quickly. Just a few months after the surgery, as predicted by the surgeon, my father did pass away.
Much love and care were poured out upon our family by ward members and family friends. We had a beautiful funeral that honored the life of my father. As time passed, however, and we experienced the pain of my father’s absence, I began to wonder why my father had not been healed. I wondered if my faith was not strong enough. Why did some families receive a miracle, but our family did not? I had learned on my mission to turn to the scriptures for answers, so I began to search the scriptures.
But here is the greater lesson I learned. I had mistakenly believed that the Savior’s healing power had not worked for my family. As I now look back with more mature eyes and experience, I see that the Savior’s healing power was evident in the lives of each of my family members. I was so focused on a physical healing that I failed to see the miracles that had occurred. The Lord strengthened and lifted my mother beyond her capacity through this difficult trial, and she led a long and productive life. She had a remarkable positive influence on her children and grandchildren. The Lord blessed me and my siblings with love, unity, faith, and resilience that became an important part of our lives and continues today.
But what about my dad? As with all who will repent, he was spiritually healed as he sought and received the blessings available because of the Savior’s Atonement. He received a remission of his sins and now awaits the miracle of the Resurrection. The Apostle Paul taught, “For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.” You see, I was saying to the Savior, “We brought my dad to You to be healed,” and it is now clear to me that the Savior did heal him. The balm of Gilead worked for the Nielson family—not in the way that we had supposed, but in an even more significant way that has blessed and continues to bless our lives.

One of the first buildings that the Saints built in Independence was a schoolhouse for their children. Education is still very important. Even when she isn’t in school, Julianne loves getting old textbooks from a neighbor across the street and playing school with her sister Jaime (10). Although Julianne loves school and does very well in most subjects, sometimes spelling words can be a trial to her. If she gets frustrated, her sister Jennie (16) helps her learn the words.

“When I was six, I had an experience that is very important to me. I’m afraid that I didn’t come out of it as a hero—exactly the opposite. Most of the time we’re not heroes. We are learning, progressing, correcting our mistakes. This incident really taught me about the consequences of dishonesty. In Germany at that time, if teachers wanted to send information to parents, they sent home a letter. Such a letter was always sent in a blue envelope, and so it was nicknamed the ‘blue letter.’ A blue letter always contained bad news! I must have done something wrong at school, because I got a blue letter. I put it in my backpack, and when I got home, my mother asked, ‘What’s wrong with you?’
“I lied. ‘Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.’
“She said, ‘Well, I see by the tip of your nose that something’s wrong.’
“That made me angry and very defensive, so after lunch I went into the living room and opened up my backpack and put everything on the desk. I must have been careless, because the blue letter fell out. My mother immediately saw it and asked, ‘What’s that?’ I tried to grab the envelope and hide it, but Mother had already picked it up and was opening it.
“I will never forget the feelings of pain that came over me while she was reading that letter. To make a mistake is one thing, but it isn’t a really grave mistake if you admit it, ask for forgiveness, and make a commitment not to do it again. But to try to hide a mistake, hoping that nobody will find out, that’s a serious mistake.
“And so the lie caused me much more sorrow than the original mistake. I can’t even remember what was in that blue letter, but I still recall, in vivid detail, the awfulness of lying to my mother.

While I was teaching early-morning seminary in Eureka, California, USA, I asked my students to think of themselves 10 years in the future. Then I asked them to write a letter with their testimony of the gospel and whatever else they would like to share with the older versions of themselves. I told them I would mail the letters in 10 years.
Time passed and I never got around to mailing the letters. One day 25 years later, my daughter Heidi found the letters and asked about them. After I explained what I had planned, she looked for the addresses of my former students using social media tools.
After she mailed the letters, we received some great responses. One of my former seminary students wrote:
“I need your dad to know that he just now found those letters for a reason. My 18-year-old daughter has been struggling with her testimony and feeling that being a ‘perfect Latter-day Saint girl’ isn’t for her. She doesn’t share her feelings with us. It’s been hard.”
My former student, devastated by some things her daughter had recently written in a blog, added:
“I knew I had to talk to her about it. As usual, when we have these conversations, her face was stony and defiant, and she didn’t say anything. I handed her my letter and told her I wanted her to read it.
“I saw her reread the first paragraph several times. I had written that I didn’t know if I had a testimony, that being a perfect Latter-day Saint was a lot and maybe not for me.
“My daughter started to cry. I needed her to know that I truly understand her struggles. She would never have believed it without that letter! Some of her wall has come down, and I truly feel like the timing of this letter was a tender mercy. If I had received it 10 years ago, I might have thrown it away or lost it! Please thank your dad for having us write the letters and for misplacing them for all these years! Nothing is a coincidence.”
Our loving Heavenly Father watches over all His sheep, and in His marvelous timing, He can work tender mercies and miracles through each of us to bring those who have wandered back to the fold.

“Work goes faster if we work together,” said Vanessa Kaiser (10) of Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. “And if we all work together, we have time to play together.” Last summer Vanessa’s family had job cards that told each person what his job assignment for the week was. The jobs were changed weekly—except for the job of tending Katelyn (1). That job goes to whomever Katelyn is happiest with each day.
Each child has his favorite jobs. Vanessa likes to vacuum the stairs, iron, and take care of the family’s two dogs, Cotton and Sandy. Jessica (12) likes to cook and tend Katelyn. Jonathan (8) prefers dusting, and Kenneth (5) vacuuming. Mostly they like to get their work done so that they can play.
Last winter they built an ice rink in their backyard. First they packed the snow down with a toboggan; then they sprinkled the snow with water to form layers of ice. When the ice was thick enough, they went skating. But soon they learned to use their slippery slide as a luge run. Sliding down it on a rubber mat, they’d fly across the iced backyard into a soft snowbank.
The family has a “basement business” to make money for a “magnificent” vacation. They make personalized boot clips (used to clip pairs of boots together so that they don’t get separated) and magnets out of plastic tiles. Jonathan and Kenneth peel the protective coating off the tiles and brush them clean. Mom, Jessica, and Vanessa engrave the tiles with people’s names or initials, bevel the edges to make them smooth, then bend the tiles to make boot clips or attach magnets to the tiles’ backs.
In all things the Kaiser family works together. Their father, Walter, owns a photo finishing lab. Their mother, Nancy, helps with the bookwork, and the children help clean the office. Then Dad helps out at home. “Whenever Mom says there’s nothing in the house to fix for dinner, Dad somehow finds a way to make a wonderful dinner. He’s a great cook,” Vanessa said.
Vanessa loves talking to Jessica about things that Jessica has already done. For instance, last winter Vanessa went to Winter Camp, a winter survival training course held in February for all fifth graders. Before she went, Jessica told her all about how fun it was to build “quinzhee” shelters out of snow and to play the survival games. It made Vanessa really excited about going and helped her not to be nervous about the unknown.
Jonathan likes to play with Vanessa because she’ll take the time to work on his projects with him. Jonathan loves to build and create things. Vanessa’s favorite project with Jonathan was building a tricky course, much like a miniature golf course, out of Legos and Zaks and then blowing balls of crumpled up facial tissue through the maze of paths.
Sometimes after a hard day, Vanessa will go to her room and find her bed turned down and a note on her pillow. It will be from Kenneth. “He’ll print some letters on it and tell me that it says ‘I love you. You have been so nice to me today.’” It means a lot to Vanessa.
But Kenneth isn’t the only one who writes secret notes to make others feel better. “I do bookwork for my husband,” said Mom. “When it’s payroll, I have a busy, long night. But sometimes when I go down to my work after the kids have gone to bed, I find nice notes that Vanessa has left for me.”
Vanessa sets an example not only at home, but at school too. One day her class was drinking something that is against the Word of Wisdom. Vanessa passed it up and politely explained why she couldn’t drink it. Another time she told some children who were using bad language on the playground that she didn’t like those words and that they upset her. The other children respected her feelings and stopped using the offensive language.
Recycling has also become one of Vanessa’s major concerns. After her class did a project on it, Vanessa helped her family become involved. “Now every time I want to throw something away,” her mother said, “she says, ‘I can recycle that at school.’”
“If we don’t do something now,” said Vanessa, “we’ll have so much garbage that we won’t know what to do with it.”
Vanessa is a joy to her family and friends, and they bring her joy too.

My own mother was semi-invalid for many years before she died, a shut-in who was absolutely delighted when anyone came by to visit or just to say hello. Coming up to meetings in Provo, I would stay with her, looking forward to our prayers together. But then in the middle of the night, I would often hear her from the bedroom next to ours. It was a conversation between her and someone. One time I stood at the door and eavesdropped on my sweet mother’s prayers that went on for 30 or 40 minutes. I was amazed at how far and wide her prayer ranged. The specificity. Each child, each grandchild, and even beyond her posterity.

I believe that righteous prayers will deploy angels to the spot where we cannot go ourselves. I believe that it is in our prayers that our own souls are shaped and tutored, again when they are linked to personal action where we are able.

I brought my Grandma's handkerchief with me today because it reminds me of an experience I had in her home the summer I turned seventeen and was deciding where to attend college. I still remember sitting in her living room as she asked me if I would consider living with her and attending Ricks College. She had always loved this institution since being a student here in 1910. And as an added incentive, Grandma said she would let me have her car. Well, if you had seen her car you wouldn't have considered that proposition to be any more of a drawing card than I did, and I chose to go elsewhere to school.

During the past four years as Elder Bednar has served as president of this institution, I've thought many times how pleased my Grandma is that I've had a Ricks College experience--though it has certainly come later in my life than she would have anticipated. I know that she would expect me to do what I can to help preserve and enhance the spirit on this campus.

“We learned about commitment when he told us about receiving his mission call. His parents had both recently passed away and, after their burial, left him with a few debts to pay. When the bishop talked to him about going on a mission, he mentioned these debts to the bishop and said that it would take him six months to pay them if he saved everything that he could.
“At the end of the six months, the bishop returned and asked if the debts had been paid. My father said yes, but that he didn’t have any money left, adding, ‘But I’ll go, even though I don’t have a nickel to my name.’ So he went to the bank, where, because of his reputation for integrity, he was able to borrow enough money to support himself on his mission. When he returned from his mission, he worked and paid the money back.
“I don’t remember how old I was when he first told me that story, but I have remembered it all my life. It helped me understand that you do what you’re asked to do.”

Approximately 18 months ago, in the fall of 2017, my 64-year-old brother Mike informed me that he had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He also told me that he had received a priesthood blessing from his home teacher and that he had met with his bishop. He later texted me a picture of the Oakland California Temple taken from the hospital where he was receiving treatment, with the caption “Look what I can see from my hospital room.”
I was as surprised by his comments about home teachers, priesthood blessings, bishops, and temples as I was about the cancer. You see, Mike, a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood, hadn’t regularly attended church for close to 50 years.
As a family, we were almost as intrigued with his spiritual progress as we were with his progress in fighting the cancer, largely because of his now frequent questions about the Book of Mormon, the sealing power, and life after death. As the months passed and the cancer spread, a need for additional and more specialized treatment eventually brought Mike to Utah and the Huntsman Cancer Institute.
Shortly after his arrival, Mike was visited by John Holbrook, the ward mission leader of the ward that served the care facility where he was now living. John commented that “it was obvious to me that Mike was a son of God” and that they quickly developed a bond and a friendship, which led to John becoming Mike’s de facto ministering brother. There was an immediate invitation to have the missionaries visit, which my brother politely declined, but a month into their friendship, John asked again, explaining to Mike, “I think you’d enjoy hearing the gospel message.” This time the invitation was accepted, leading to meetings with the missionaries, as well as visits with Bishop Jon Sharp, whose conversations eventually led to Mike receiving his patriarchal blessing, 57 years after his baptism.
In early December of last year, following months of procedures, Mike decided to stop the cancer treatments, which were causing severe side effects, and to just let nature take its course. We were informed by his doctor that Mike had approximately three months to live. In the meantime, the gospel questions continued—as did the visits and support of his local priesthood leaders. On our visits with Mike, we often saw an open copy of the Book of Mormon on the bedstand as we discussed the Restoration of the gospel, priesthood keys, temple ordinances, and the eternal nature of man.
By mid-December, with his patriarchal blessing in hand, Mike actually appeared to be gaining strength, and his prognosis of at least another three months seemed likely. We even made plans for him to join us for Christmas, for New Year’s, and beyond. On December 16, I received an unexpected call from Bishop Sharp, who informed me that he and the stake president had interviewed Mike, had found him worthy to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood, and asked when I would be available to participate. The ordinance was scheduled for that Friday, December 21.
When the day arrived, my wife, Carol, and I arrived at the care facility and were immediately met in the hallway near his room and informed that Mike had no pulse. We entered the room to find the patriarch, his bishop, and his stake president already waiting—and then Mike opened his eyes. He recognized me and acknowledged that he could hear me and was ready to receive the priesthood. Fifty years after Mike had been ordained a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood, I had the privilege, assisted by his local leaders, to confer the Melchizedek Priesthood and ordain my brother to the office of elder. Five hours later, Mike passed away, crossing the veil to meet our parents as a holder of the Melchizedek Priesthood.
In response to that invitation from a prophet of God, remarkable efforts to minister to the one are taking place all over the world, in both coordinated efforts, as members faithfully fulfill their ministering assignments, as well as in what I’ll call “impromptu” ministering, as so many demonstrate Christlike love in response to unexpected opportunities. In our own family, we witnessed, up close, this type of ministering.
John, who was Mike’s friend, ministering brother, and a former mission president, used to tell his missionaries that “if someone is on a list that says ‘not interested,’ don’t give up. People change.” He then told us, “Mike changed mightily.” John was first a friend, providing frequent encouragement and support—but his ministering didn’t stop at friendly visits. John knew that a minister is more than a friend and that friendship is magnified as we minister.
Knowing that he would soon die, my brother Mike commented, “It’s amazing how pancreatic cancer can make you focus on what’s most important.” Thanks to wonderful men and women who saw a need, did not judge, and ministered like the Savior, it wasn’t too late for Mike. For some, change may come sooner; for others, perhaps beyond the veil. However, we must remember that it is never too late and no one has ever wandered so far from the path that he or she is beyond the reach of the infinite Atonement of Jesus Christ, which is limitless in its duration and scope.

My second miracle was to watch an interpreter, Sandra Pratt, on the same screen as the guest speaker on YouTube. That had never happened before for me. I was amazed and asked how it happened. I found out that Bishop Fakatou used StreamYard (a live streaming facility used in web browsers). I immediately told my youngest deaf sister, Heather, who is married to our stake president—I wanted to make it happen in Belfast Stake, Northern Ireland.

My third miracle was listening to Brother Griffin talking about the tree of life, The lost sheep, the lost coin and the prodigal son.
The lost coin parable stood out for me because I realised for the first time that the lost coin was lost because of neglect. I began to think about people in general and wondered how often we neglect others in our lives to the point that they don’t feel part of society. Then I remembered a verse that my deaf mission president, Derrick Siswick, quoted to his missionaries at a zone conference: “And in that day shall the deaf hear the words of the book, and the eyes of the blind shall see out of obscurity, and out of darkness” (Isaiah 29:18).
From that moment on, I felt that deaf members and investigators can ‘hear’ the gospel in their language. How grateful I am that Bishop Fakatou agreed to have two interpreters for the Solihull Ward’s weekly virtual fireside each Sunday evening.
This is one way of uniting both deaf and hearing members during this lockdown. I plead with everyone to share what they know with deaf members. Tell them of virtual firesides or videos that can uplift. Remember, I relied on hearing members for information, which led me to my story, which I wanted to share with you all. I need you, and you need me. Together we can move forward and build Zion.
My fourth and last miracle was to make it possible for an interpreter and a guest speaker to be present in my weekly ward Zoom meetings for Sunday School, Relief Society and sacrament. That was ‘live’ for the first time on Sunday, 24 January 2021, with David & Jess Templeton’s support.

We can make things happen with the Lord’s help. In Luke 1:37, it says, “For with God nothing shall be impossible.” I know this is true, and I am very grateful for my uplifting experiences during my lockdown. I know that Heavenly Father is mindful of what we are going through. This is a beautiful opportunity to use modern technology to share the gospel of Jesus Christ with everyone.
President Nelson has spoken to us of his great desire to help hasten the Lord’s work in the latter-days. Hasten means to cause something to happen more quickly. Using modern technology will hasten the Lord’s work and help us to work together to make things happen for everyone. However, it is vital to understand that hastening is not just about acceleration and speed. It is also about strengthening.