Gospel Story Finder

1) When I went on my mission to Switzerland in 1950, I had studied the German language in both high school and university for a total of three years. I thought I was well prepared to be a missionary, even though at that time I had not read all of the Book of Mormon. But when I heard the everyday language of the Swiss people and their dialect forms, I was overwhelmed. It became very difficult to apply what I had learned. My companion and I read aloud to each other for an hour each morning from the Max Zimmer German translation of the Book of Mormon, which was written in the old German script. It was difficult at first, but through that reading of the Book of Mormon in German, the rhythm and flow of the language came easier for me and I was soon able to better communicate with the people.
That early morning reading also helped me through the Isaiah chapters of Second Nephi, which can be difficult to understand. In the process, I was introduced to the intriguing and beautiful poetry of Isaiah, to the vision he had of the whole history of man, and to his strong concern for the poor and the widows. It began a life-long study of the whole book of Isaiah, which has been a blessing at many times of spiritual need or of spiritual high points. That reading also opened up to me the way the prophets have of placing things of our life into a perspective that gives them their true meaning in eternity. These openings and beginnings have continued to enrich my understanding of the gospel, of the plan of salvation, of my values and goals, of the meaning of my own life. This all began with that hour my companion and I spent together reading the Book of Mormon to each other in the early mornings in an attic room in Bern, Switzerland. It was not just the language, but also the beginnings of an understanding of the beauty and importance of all scripture that came to me through that experience.

The young man walked through the door, then stopped, not quite sure what to do next. He had an important question to ask, but he didn’t know who to talk to.
Marion Peterson, the education vice-president of the Utah office of the American Cancer Society, went into the hall to help him.
“He asked me,” said Marion, “if I would look in his mouth and see if he needed to be worried. He had been using chewing tobacco for a while. He pulled down his lip, and it looked horrible, suspiciously like cancer. I told him he had to get help immediately. But he said his mother didn’t know about his habit, and she would find out if he went to the doctor because of their insurance. I begged him to go to a clinic. But he left, and I never knew his name.” Marion still worries about this boy and wonders if he got help in time.

In Brazil, we were recently introduced to a local archivist. He was not particularly friendly towards the Church or to FamilySearch, but we invited him to come to the open house for the new temple in Salvador, Brazil. While in the temple, he had many questions and felt something in his heart. He is of African descent, so after the temple open house, we began to discuss how we could work together to connect African Brazilians to their ancestors using our African oral genealogy records.

I had that demonstrated to me while welding in a shipyard one winter. One day one of the crew came up to me and with the most friendly smile started to call me all kinds of bad names. I quietly said to him, “Bent, you just don’t call me those names.” He was hurt. He said, “Dan, let me show you something. Come with me.” So I followed him across the deck of the aircraft carrier and over on the other side to a catwalk where another member of the crew was welding. He had raised his hood and was watching us approach when Bent started calling him every name he had called me. The other fellow just grinned and called him back the same names with a few innovations and improvements. Then Bent turned to me and said, “See, I didn’t mean any harm by it.” And he didn’t! He had managed to almost entirely divorce sound from sense in his speech.

James (10) and Jessa (9) Bacani Campbell are two siblings (brother and sister) who spend a lot of time together. They have other “twos” in common. They have lived in two countries, have spoken two languages, and have been a part of two families.
They lived in the Philippines until three years ago, when their mother, Rosalia Bacani, died. Their uncle and aunt, Lynn and Remy Campbell, from Boise, Idaho, then adopted them. They are now a part of a big family with two more brothers and two more sisters: Joseph (21), Chandra (20), Jacob (19), and Cheryl (16).
They not only gained a loving, new family but also learned about the gospel of Jesus Christ. They didn’t know anything about Heavenly Father or Jesus Christ when they came to their new home. “They were not members of the Church, and they had to start from scratch learning about it,” Sister Campbell said.
James and Jessa received all the missionary discussions and went to Church with their new family. On Christmas Eve, 1997, they were baptized by their brother Joseph, who had just returned from the Louisiana Baton Rouge Mission. They know that it was special to be baptized on the same day. “But,” as Jessa pointed out, “we weren’t baptized together.”
“I was baptized first,” James said, “because I’m older.” He remembers the water being really warm on that wintry evening, but he also remembers feeling warm “inside me.” It was a contrast to the cold snow outside, which was still new to them—they had never seen snow in the Philippines.
Their new dad confirmed them, and Jessa said that she felt happy. James felt the Spirit while partaking of the sacrament the next Sunday. He told the family afterward, “You know, there’s something different in me. There’s a warm feeling.”
Neither James nor Jessa knew how to speak or read English when they moved to the United States, so they didn’t say much. But their family claims that they talk nonstop now. Because they are still learning English, they are in an ESL (English as a Second Language) class at school. Jessa uses this class as an opportunity to serve others. “I help friends in the class who don’t know English as well.” She has many friends because of her openness and caring. One friend even wrote her a note that said, “You are my very best, best, best, best friend. Today I will buy you a candy and an ice cream.”
James serves his friends when he plays sports. “Sometimes I bring frozen treats out for them when we play,” he said. Basketball and soccer top his list of favorite sports, and he and his friends often play tag in their school yard.
Jessa is a talented dancer. She won many awards in the Philippines by performing traditional Filipino dances. She plans to continue dancing, because when she grows up, she wants to be a dancer, doctor, policewoman, and singer. For now, she prepares for a singing career by learning the piano’s notes. She can already play some songs on the piano.
Both James and Jessa enjoy riding their bikes and roller-skating. Jessa especially likes playing games such as ticktacktoe with James. “In the Philippines we didn’t have ticktacktoe,” Jessa explained. “We used to play with jacks and rubber bands for games.”
Their family often goes camping and fishing. “We went camping a couple of weeks after they moved here,” Brother Campbell said.
“They didn’t know anything about mountains, camping, or sleeping in a tent,” Sister Campbell added. “But they adjusted really well. Both of them even caught a fish on their first try!”
“You didn’t catch it,” Jessa told James. “Daddy helped you.”
“Daddy helped you, too,” James said with a laugh.
James and Jessa have a great respect for their family. James admires his brother Jacob and wants to be like him. He also wants to be like Nephi because Nephi obeyed his father and his Heavenly Father. “I obey my father, too,” he said. Jessa also respects her dad, and she knows all the words to her favorite Primary song, “Fathers.”*
Both children enjoy Primary and Church activities. James is a Bear in Cub Scouts and went to day camp, where he learned skills such as tying knots. Each year he has been a Scout, he has entered a race car in the Pinewood Derby. “I always lose,” he said with a grin. Jessa enjoys Achievement Days. She learned about health at one activity and has since kept track of what she eats and how many hours of sleep and exercise she gets.
James has had to cut back on his physical activities. He had foot surgery to straighten a crooked bone in his foot, and he temporarily wears a cast over his foot and lower leg. But this experience has taught him that spiritual strength is as important as physical strength. He admires Moroni because he is an example of strength in both ways. “I want to be strong like him when I grow up so that when people are having trouble, I can help them.”
He learns these traits from the missionaries, too. His family regularly has the missionaries over to dinner, and James likes to learn from them. But he also likes them to come over for another reason. “I like the food,” he said. “We make good food when they come.”
Jessa likes learning about the Creation through her Primary lessons, games, and songs. “I like learning about the Creation of the world because it helps you learn about Jesus,” she said.
James’s favorite Primary song is “Book of Mormon Stories,”** because it’s about learning the scripture stories. James and Jessa now have the scriptures and wonderful teachers, friends, and family who help them learn about Jesus Christ and His church. For both children, this was a real comfort when they moved to a new country and had to learn a new language. James even remembers hiding in the bushes because he was so scared and lonely when he first moved. Now both he and Jessa are confident and happy, and they know that they are loved by many.

I have personally experienced, though only once, the exhilaration of a real balloon flight. It was during the exciting time immediately following World War II when in Holland, my native country, many public festivities were held to celebrate the regained liberty after five years of war. There were big parades, neighborhood dance festivals, and in some cities manned balloon flights to attract large crowds for yet other festive events.
A friend taught me a lot about ballooning in preparation for a flight that I was promised to be able to make as a guest, when at some future date the weather conditions would be suitable.
I learned that we would go up in a class A gas balloon filled with coal gas and that it would ascend until its weight would be in equilibrium with the air around it.
I also learned that in the wicker basket under the balloon there were navigational instruments, maps, and ballast sandbags, which could be emptied overboard to make the balloon rise higher.
Furthermore, I discovered that if gas is released from a balloon through a valve, it descends. But this was not all! I also heard from my friend many delightful stories about previous balloon flights. On one occasion, as the story goes, clouds developed unexpectedly during a flight, and the two men in the wicker basket had not the faintest idea over which part of the country they were sailing.
They decided to lower the balloon, and all of a sudden they saw a Dutchman walking on a lonely country road. When they were able to draw his attention, one of the men in the basket shouted: “Where are we?” And the lonely walker looked up, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted back, “You are in a balloon.”
To make their urgent request for direction more clear, the man in the balloon cried vigorously, “Where are you?” And the man called back at the top of his voice, “I am on the ground!”
Discouraged, the balloonists unloaded some ballast and sailed again into the clouds, while one of them remarked: “The man down there must be a bureaucrat.” The statements he made were perfectly true, but totally useless!
After what I have shared with you thus far, I have come to the conclusion that a strong parallel can be drawn between the steady rise of a balloon and our spiritual upward mobility.
Just as gas is necessary to fill a balloon to push it upward, so must the individual be filled with inner motivation in order to move upward. Just as the balloon can rise higher by throwing ballast overboard, so must a person be willing to rid himself of unnecessary ballast that limits his rise in spirituality.
When I made my balloon flight, strangely enough, I did not have the feeling that I was going up. I had the impression that I remained stationary, as it were, and the world floated silently away from me.
Later, when through the missionary effort I joined the Church, I gained as a new member that peaceful feeling of being safely placed in the environment of true gospel living and that Babylon had floated away from me. As it was expressed by an early European balloonist: “I felt as though I had left behind me, all the cares and passions that molest mankind.”
I testify that we all can have that peace of mind if we are willing to rid ourselves of the ballast that prevents us from rising to greater spiritual heights. It will facilitate our ascent to a loving Father in Heaven, who will, in his due time, await our return after our journey through life.
Let us, therefore, get rid of our sandbag of impatience and learn to be more patient with our spouses and children, our friends and neighbors, because the Lord has counseled us to “continue in patience until ye are perfected”! (D&C 67:13.)
And for those of you who do not know what the word patience really means, I offer a simple definition: Patience is learning to hide your impatience.
And how many of us still go through life with a ballast bag called criticism? We should, instead, give more praise wherever and whenever possible because we have been told and retold, “Cease to find fault one with another.” (D&C 88:124.) And let us in this respect also remember that the faults and shortcomings we see in the members of our own ward or branch are of less consequence to us than one of the smallest in ourselves.
Furthermore, do we still have a sandbag with unfriendliness in our basket, even though the Savior asks us to be friendly and loving? As he said: “Ye are they whom my Father hath given me; ye are my friends.” (D&C 84:63.)
While on our spiritual flight, let us totally empty our ballast bag of pride and be more humble in all things, always remembering the Savior’s glorious promise to all: “And inasmuch as you have humbled yourselves before me, the blessings of the kingdom are yours.” (D&C 61:37.)
And will we really ascend in our spiritual balloon if we are not prepared to dispose of our sandbag of greed? Living prophets have counseled us to pay an honest tithing and to give a generous fast offering; and, moreover, the scriptures reveal in a very candid way: “Wo unto [them] that [do] not give [of their] substance to the poor.” (D&C 56:16.) And, unfortunately, some people think they are being generous because they give so much free advice!
Finally, we must get rid of the heavy ballast of frustrations. All of us must discover in the wicker basket of our personal spiritual balloon those frustrations against which we continually have to be on guard. It was revealed unto us, and we have already heard it twice from this pulpit in this conference: “The works, and the designs, and the purposes of God cannot be frustrated, neither can they come to naught. … Remember that it is not the work of God that is frustrated, but the work of men.” (D&C 3:1, 3.)
The only way we can move upward from our present level of spirituality and performance to a higher level is by doing away with the ballast that holds us back. We have to learn to live the commandments, not only for our own good, but also for the good of other people because we reform others unconsciously when we keep the commandments of God and live the teachings of the Church. That’s another way of doing missionary work and lifting the spirituality of those around us.
Therefore, let’s start our flight today. If we are still at ground level, let’s cut the cords; and our rise will start immediately! However, even that will not ensure our continuous spiritual mobility. Our balloon will rise only so high and then will begin to stall. At that time we have to investigate what ballast we need to get rid of in order to rise even higher. If you find it hard to cut the cords, you will find it even harder to do away with the sandbags to lighten your load.
The balloon trip of our spiritual upward mobility is a demanding and sometimes difficult adventure, and only the person with true perseverance will make it to the highest realm!
In closing, after talking about flying, sailing, and rising, I would like to give some down-to-earth guidelines.
To those who are within the sound of my voice this day and who have already entered the wicker basket of their spiritual balloon through baptism into the kingdom of God but who are just sitting there, waiting inactively for things to happen, cut the cords that hold you back from lift-off.
To those who are quietly drifting at the same elevation with little upward mobility, take a close look at the ballast that prevents you from going to a higher level of performance. Make a decision and remove the restraining weight from your spiritual flight.
I give you a solemn promise that if you do this, you will enjoy a feeling of spiritual euphoria because you will elevate yourself.
I testify—as one who twenty-three years ago was baptized into the kingdom of God in Toronto, Canada—that my flight since my baptism has been a magnificent one, with breathtaking scenes and spiritual panoramas and with the never-failing knowledge that my day-to-day flight plan is made available to me by an understanding, loving, forgiving Heavenly Father.
The same is true for all of us! How do I know this? Because I know with all my heart that God lives and that Jesus is the Christ. He is the Savior of mankind, the great mediator for the salvation and exaltation of all of our Heavenly Father’s children, if they are willing to follow his outlined flight plan. Of which I testify this day, gratefully and happily, and in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Another friend of mine, whom I will call Frank, reached out to me in my role with the Alzheimer’s Association a few years ago while he was serving as a bishop. He was concerned about several members of his ward who had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease and suspected that others had some form of undiagnosed dementia. Frank was anxious to meet the needs of these ward members and support other members serving as caregivers. Unaware of any resources, he turned to me out of desperation with a plea for help.
We arranged for a presentation to his ward’s empty-nester home evening group. Normally about 25 people attended this monthly activity. After it was announced that the presentation would be about Alzheimer’s disease, more than 100 people attended. Many were concerned about getting Alzheimer’s disease but weren’t sure what it is or how they might be able to reduce their risk.
During this meeting, I shared a wide variety of tools available through the Alzheimer’s Association and from other community sources.
As I shared these resources with Frank’s ward council, other members, and caregivers, he observed increased support for and engagement with those members affected by Alzheimer’s and other dementias in his ward and stronger support for caregivers. Increased knowledge can make all the difference!

I was pretty excited. The big day was getting closer. All of our Wednesday practices, all of our work, and it finally came down to one day of winter camping competition known as the Klondike.
“Load up the sled,” said Brother Tolson, our Scoutmaster, who also happened to be my dad. “It’s getting late.” We piled our shovels, wood, and other gear on the sled we had built the previous Saturdays. I helped lash our things down with a rope and tied one of the knots we had learned.
The air was frosty, and our breath hung in the air as we struggled up the hill. “This looks like a good spot,” Dad said.
“See,” he said, piling up snow, “you want to pack it down a little as you go. We don’t want our snow caves falling apart.”
“What do you think, Doug? Will it be safe?” I asked, as I dug snow out of our cave and piled it on top of the pile. Doug was our senior patrol leader and I respected his ability.
“I think it’ll hold,” he said. “And it can’t be any colder than a tent.”
After two hours of work, we got inside of the cave. To our surprise, it was really warm. We helped build a few more caves, covered the floor with plastic, and then put the firewood inside.
“The wood will stay dry on that plastic, and it will be really easy to take our food and packs up here when we come back on Friday,” Dad said.
We then walked back to the car in the moonlight, racing with the sleds when we came to downhill parts of the trail. We could hardly wait for Friday night when we could return to our camp.
When we arrived near our campsite on Friday, Doug’s brother John, another member of our troop, said, “I’m so glad we don’t have to set up tents.” But when we came over the last hill, we knew something was wrong. Our igloos had been destroyed. We could tell somebody else had found our caves, ruined them, and stolen part of our wood. We angrily looked around and noticed footprints leading toward another camp.
“Let’s get them,” John said. We all murmured in agreement. “I’ll bet it was those guys down there,” he continued. “We’ve got more people than they do, and they need to learn a lesson!” We started down the hill.
“Wait!” Doug yelled.
Just then, my dad came over the hill. “What happened?” he asked.
After hearing the story Dad told us he would leave it up to us how we dealt with it, but that he thought it was more important for us to rebuild our shelters. “It’s not going to get any warmer,” he said. We debated and argued for a while, and Dad walked away.
Finally, Doug spoke up. “Look,” he said, “we’ve been working on this trip for a long time. If our camp doesn’t look good, we lose points. I think we can win the Klondike, and that’s more important. I don’t want to get kicked out of this.”
John wasn’t so sure. “Doug, you’re always too good. Come on, let’s get those guys first. Then we’ll fix the camp.”
“I’m with Doug,” said Chad.
“Me, too,” I said.
John and the rest grumbled as we decided to rebuild the caves. After dinner over a small fire, we went to bed.
The next morning, we went to the competition. We were very well prepared, and our camp got full points. Somehow we did everything perfectly as we were the fastest in fire building and first aid. Later, we discovered our point total had been the highest ever recorded at the Klondike.
I’ve always been grateful to Doug for doing the unpopular thing, which led us to something far better than revenge.

The clock struck nine. Flora watched her father thumb through the Bible’s pages to find his place. Elder Roberts, who had been teaching them about the Church, laid down the saddlebag he was mending. Flora’s sister, Matilda, set aside her needlework to listen to Father read: “‘Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee’” (Isa. 41:10).
“Amen,” Elder Roberts said as Father finished reading.
“Now, Elder Roberts, would you read from the Book of Mormon?” Father asked.
Elder Roberts opened the well-worn Book of Mormon. He cleared his throat and began, “‘Now this is the commandment: Repent … and come unto me and be baptized in my name’” (3 Ne. 27:20).
Flora leaned closer to Matilda and whispered, “You can be baptized if you like, but I never will.”
“Why not, Flora?”
“Just look what has happened to us for even listening to the missionaries. Mr. Cardston, who has always treated us like his own daughters, will not speak to us. He won’t let Amy and Gertrude associate with us.”
“It is hard.”
“But that isn’t the worst of it. Think of Isaac, driven from the street with stones. He was almost killed just for passing out pamphlets about the gospel.”
“But do you know what he whispered to me as I fed him his supper? ‘Matilda,’ he said, ‘I am so happy that I am baptized and that I am counted worthy to hold the office of a deacon in the Church and kingdom of God.’”
“Well, you can be baptized like Isaac and Father, but I shall not,” Flora declared firmly.
“Daughters,” Father said, “please say good night to Isaac before going to bed.”
“Yes, Father,” the girls chimed.
Isaac’s arms and face were black and blue with bruises. He moaned a little as he attempted to roll onto his side, but he forced a partial smile when he saw his sisters in the doorway.
“Oh, Isaac!” Flora exclaimed. “How can you stand what they have done to you?”
“There, there, Flora. I’ll mend in no time. You’ll see.”
“Weren’t you frightened when they began stoning you?”
“Yes, little one, my knees trembled, yet I did my best to magnify my office and calling.”
“You are so brave, Isaac.”
“It isn’t bravery—just love, Flora. My whole being is filled with the love of Christ. I even love those who threw the stones today.”
“How can you love people who were trying to hurt you?”
Matilda said, “I think I understand what you mean, Isaac.” She kissed his forehead on a spot that wasn’t bruised.
“Are you girls going to be baptized?” he asked.
“Yes, I am—this Sunday, in the Matlock Baths.” Matilda’s face was radiant.
“No, Isaac.” Flora sighed. “I just can’t.”
“Is it because you don’t know if the Church is true?”
“I know it’s true. When I read the Book of Mormon, my whole mind seemed filled with light. But I just can’t be baptized.”
“Why not, little one?”
“All my friends will turn away from me. And Father said that if we all join, we will sell everything and go to America. How can I part with everything and everyone that I love and hold dear? I’m afraid, Isaac.”
“That is to be expected. You pray and let God guide you.”
On Sunday, Flora was happy that Isaac, although still weak, joined her and Matilda as they made their way to where Matilda would be baptized. At first, the neighbors silently watched them. Then some began to shout horrible lies about the Church.
Flora’s stomach churned with fear. If only Father were with them! He had gone earlier with Elder Roberts to prepare for the baptism. She glanced at Isaac’s blanched face, perspiring from the effort of walking. He looked close to collapsing.
“This is as far as you go,” spoke a harsh voice. “There will not be any of this Mormon baptizing done today.”
Flora eyed the crowd that was closing in around them. She shuddered as she looked into their faces. Former friends now seemed like strangers, their faces dark with anger. Flora winced as a stone hit her ankle. “Let’s stone them!” someone shouted.
“Heavenly Father, I am so afraid. Please guide and strengthen me,” Flora prayed. Peace and love filled her heart, and she felt stronger. Was the Holy Ghost with her? She felt that He was.
“Do not be afraid,” Flora said. Her voice, clear and steady, easily reached the back of the crowd. “We are your neighbors, and we love you. We wish to show our love for Heavenly Father this day by being baptized in the name of His Son, Jesus Christ.”
An old woman shook her cane at the crowd. “They’re just children,” she said. “Let them alone. You should all be ashamed of yourselves.”
Flora held her breath as she listened to the angry crowd murmur. “Come now,” a man growled. “Beatrice is right. These children haven’t done us any harm.” The crowd slowly scattered.
“Who is the brave one now?” Isaac whispered. He smiled, and Flora knew he was pleased with her.
“Flora, did I hear you say ‘we’ are to be baptized?” Matilda asked.
“Yes, I said ‘we.’ You and I are going to be baptized today.” Flora linked her arm with Matilda’s.
So Matilda and Flora were baptized at the Matlock Baths. Afterward, they sang:
“‘O Jesus, I have promised To serve Thee to the end;
Be Thou forever near me, my Master and my friend;
I shall not fear the battle If Thou art by my side,
Nor wander from the pathway If Thou wilt be my guide.’”

One of the most positive changes people see is the love and respect members of the Church have for one another. In New Caledonia’s sometimes uneasy mix of cultures, Church members’ example of unity shines. Brother Gaya tells of a time in 1984 and 1985 when the political climate in New Caledonia became tense: “New Caledonia’s native population, the Kanaks, or at least the political party representing them, were pressing for independence. The French wanted to remain citizens of France. So we had two political parties fighting each other.” The fighting sometimes became violent.
“In 1986 some people from the French government visited us and asked what was the Church’s position—‘Does the Church want the country to have its independence, or does it want the country to remain a territory of France?’ I said, ‘We leave political discussion out of our meetings. What we want is to be near the Lord. We want to keep His commandments—to love Him and to love our neighbor. We are not just French or Polynesian or Melanesian. We are first and foremost members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.’
“I think there was only one church in the whole country in which all the communities could worship together at the same time and not have problems, and that was the LDS Church. When a European became the leader, the Polynesians and Melanesians followed him. When a Melanesian became the leader, everyone followed him.”

Let’s all learn from my friend Mick. One day he was swimming at a party given by the company for which he was working that summer in Nebraska. He dove into the water and hit a shallow spot very hard. A broken neck was his diagnosis, and his whole body was immediately paralyzed. He even lost the capacity to breathe. The doctor said, “He may not make it through the night.”
He had earned a B.A. degree in political science after serving a mission in Japan. At the time of this tragic accident he had just one year left in law school at BYU. He was married and had two children. This tragic accident changed his whole life, as if from day to night. He wasn’t sure whether he would make it until the next day. It was inconceivable, the emotional and physical pain that he must go through as a quadriplegic.
Even though he was in this condition in the University of Utah Medical Center, he was determined to graduate from law school. It was an almost impossible task, but good friends, true Samaritans, brought him notes and taped lectures from Provo. Oh, God bless these true Christians. He turned pages by a mouthstick, and if his book flipped shut, he waited for a long time until someone came to help him.
Finally, he graduated from law school, passed the Utah bar exam, and became a licensed attorney. While he was studying, exercising, and maintaining doctor’s contact to gain strength, his wife took his two sons and divorced him. This was the most “sorrowful and very heavy” period of his life. (Matt. 26:37.) But he never complained and even blessed the leaving loved ones. In his heart he prayed, “Thy will be done, O Lord!” (Matt. 26:42.) It was his own Garden of Gethsemane, and he took his own cup and drank it as his blessing.
My friend Mick met a most beautiful lady, Cheryl. They married and now the greatest joy has come to their lives. His wife is expecting a baby. It is a miracle. The Lord said, “I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless.” Last Friday, they were sealed in the temple for time and for all eternity. It was my privilege to perform the ceremony for this beautiful couple.
His stake president, President Banks, described him as “a most humble person with strong faith,” and his secretary said of him, “Time has always been important to him. A span of a few brief seconds means the difference. He has no wasted time. He has accomplished more than ever.”

Elder James E. Talmage, who authored Jesus the Christ, stated:
“I was called and ordained one Sunday morning, … and that afternoon was placed as a sentinel at the door of the house in which the Saints had met for worship. As soon as I had been ordained, a feeling came to me such as I have never been able to fully describe. It seemed scarcely possible, that I, a little boy, could be so honored of God as to be called to the priesthood. I had read of the sons of Aaron and Levi who were chosen for the sacred labors of the Lesser Priesthood, but that I should be called to do part of the service that had been required of them was more than my little mind could grasp. I was both frightened and happy. Then, when I was placed on duty at the door, I forgot that I was but [a] … lad; I felt strong in the thought that I belonged to the Lord, and that he would assist me in whatever was required of me. I could not resist the conviction that other sentinels, stronger by far than I, stood by me though invisible to human eyes.
“The effect of my ordination to the deaconship entered into all the affairs of my boyish life. I am afraid that sometimes I forgot what I was, but I have ever been thankful that ofttimes I did remember, and the recollection always served to make me better. When at play on the school grounds, and perhaps tempted to take unfair advantage in the game, when in the midst of a dispute with a playmate, I would remember, and the thought would be as effective as though spoken aloud—‘I am a deacon; and it is not right that a deacon should act in this way.’ On examination days, when it seemed easy for me to copy some other boys’ work or to ‘crib’ from the book, I would remember again,—‘I am a deacon, and must be honest and true.’ When I saw other boys cheating in play or in school, I would say in my mind, ‘It would be more wicked for me to do that than it is for them because I am a deacon’” (Incidents from the Lives of Our Church Leaders: Course of Studyfor the Quorums of the Priesthood: Deacons, 1914, pp. 135–36).

Katie sat with her parents in the bishop’s office. The bishop, his counselors, and President Barlow talked with Daddy and Mommy. President Barlow was a member of the stake presidency. Grandma and Grandpa Chadwick, Daddy’s parents, were also there.
Daddy was being set apart as the ward elders quorum president. Five-year-old Katie didn’t understand what being set apart meant.
Mommy had told her that when someone is called to a position in the Church, Heavenly Father wants that person to receive a special blessing from those with priesthood authority.
Daddy sat in a chair in the middle of the room. “Dad, will you participate in the setting apart?” he asked Grandpa.
Tears gathered in Grandpa’s eyes. “I’d be honored,” he said.
Grandpa joined the other men in a circle around the chair where Daddy sat. They placed their hands on Daddy’s head.
Katie saw Mommy and Grandma Chadwick close their eyes and fold their arms. Katie closed her eyes and folded her arms, too.
President Barlow said a prayer, but it was a different kind of prayer than Katie was used to hearing. He asked Heavenly Father to bless her daddy in performing his duties.
When the blessing was over, everyone said, “Amen.” Katie said, “Amen,” too.
Her daddy stood and wiped tears from his eyes. “Thank you,” he said to the men. “I’ll do my best to help the elders in our ward.”
The men in the circle all shook his hand.
Katie sat on the chair and folded her arms. “I’m ready, Daddy.”
“What are you ready for, sweetheart?” Daddy asked.
“I want a blessing, too,” Katie said.
Her parents exchanged glances. The other people in the room smiled.
“I think that’s a good idea,” Daddy said. “You aren’t being set apart, but you can have a father’s blessing.” Then he placed his hands on Katie’s head. He blessed her that she would be able to choose the right and obey her parents. At the end of the blessing, everyone said, “Amen.”
Katie got down from the chair and held out her hand. Daddy shook her hand. Katie felt warm and happy inside.

Recently a mission president asked me to speak to a troubled missionary who was having extreme homesickness problems. His intense yearnings were causing poor performance, a waste of time, a lack of concentration, and a dislike for his present assignment. I took the occasion to tell him that some of the right kind of homesickness could be desirable, but it must be kept under control. Let me say at the outset, yearning is defined as “to have a strong or deep desire; be filled with longing” (American Heritage Dictionary, second college edition, 1982). This missionary seemed very sincere in wanting to do better. Proper yearnings for home can be beneficial.
Not just children but all of us will want to think of home under joyous or trying circumstances. We let ourselves become homesick for love, acceptance, security, understanding, and guidance that generally are taught and shared there. Home should be the place in which a person can unburden his soul and find renewed strength to face the world; where there is comfort, joy, and understanding; where best friends live; and where we can learn to be our best selves.
There is a certain kind of yearning for home we should never want to lose. Home should be an anchor, a port in a storm, a refuge, a happy place in which to dwell, a place where we are loved and where we can love. Home should be where life’s greatest lessons are taught and learned. Home and family can be the center of one’s earthly faith, where love and mutual responsibility are appropriately blended. Thinking of home with its pleasant and happy memories can make us stronger during our present and future days here upon the earth.
President Benson has always loved his childhood home. He loves Whitney, Idaho, his birthplace. He loves the homestead where all eleven children were born and reared by noble parents.
Over a lifetime of worldwide travel, he yearned to return often to his home, and he did so. His heart has always been in Cache Valley. He loved going back and visiting with family members still there and seeing the friends of his birth, his neighbors, his teachers, his bishops, his kin who had such an impact for good on his life. He calls them “the finest people in all the world,” and Whitney “the ideal farm community.”
It revitalizes President Benson to go back to his roots, to go back to the land that nourished him and built character in him and provided him the sacred beginnings of a life devoted to God, family, and country. Truly, President Benson loves his childhood home.
I am concerned for people today who do not have a longing for or thoughts of home. It is unfortunate that among us we have people who have never experienced home life that has been and is desirable so that there can be an anxiousness under control for thoughts toward home. Our responsibilities are to share the warmth of our homes by being good neighbors and friends.
To know who we are is important, but to know where we are in relationship to our earthly home and heavenly home is essential if we are to receive all the blessings our Father in Heaven has for those who love him and keep his commandments. Our eternal home is our ultimate destination. A proper yearning for home can prevent our getting lost in detours or paths that lead us away.
It is reported that one summer at a Young Women’s conference in Alberta, Canada, three hundred girls were camped in tents scattered among tall pines. It rained every day and was very cold and wet. Even so, there was no murmuring in the camp. The last day of the conference, the leader addressed the young women under cloudy skies. Despite the unseasonable cold, there was a feeling of warmth among them for this their temporary home. Maybe because of the cold they were all drawn together and felt warm from the inside out.
The speaker began her remarks by asking, “Where are you going following this outdoor conference?” The united chorus of three hundred young women resounded through the tall pines. “Home!” they cried out. “Where?” they were asked again, and they responded with even greater conviction: “Home!” They knew where they wanted to go most of all and were anxious to get there.
The most attractive home that we will ever share will be that abode with our families with appropriate relationship to our Heavenly Father and his Son, Jesus Christ. Even the prodigal son could not resist the pull of home. He spurned his father, his home life, and his heritage, lavishly wasting his inheritance on riotous living. When he had nothing and was reduced to living off the spoils that only swine would eat, his thoughts turned homeward. Could there have been moments, as he gleaned the fields for husks to eat, when he longed for the security, safety, and acceptance he’d had before? Might he have been deeply homesick? Repentant, and hoping his father would accept him as a servant, he finally returned home. His father rejoiced, welcoming him back with open arms and complete acceptance. He no doubt knew that welcoming his wayward son was crucial if he hoped to ever return to his heavenly home. (See Luke 15:11–32).
Over the years I’ve counseled with many whose homesickness threatened to interfere with their missions, marriages, and families.
But I’ve come to see that being homesick isn’t all bad. It’s natural to miss the people you are closest to. It’s normal to long to be where you feel secure, where those you love have your best interests at heart. It’s understandable to want to return to the place where you learned how to walk and talk, where you felt loved even when friends turned away, and where you were accepted, regardless of the situation. There’s no place on earth that can take the place of a home where love has been given and received.
Recently we’ve witnessed the tragic devastation that Hurricane Andrew left in its wake in southern Florida and Louisiana. Tens of thousands of people have lost their homes. Armed forces personnel have raised tent cities to try and at least provide these victims with shelter. But the sobering fact is that, at least for a time, many of these people literally cannot go home. I cannot imagine how they must yearn for what they so recently had.
I have known other men and women who, for one reason or another, could not go home or who had no home to go to. I have felt their pain and seen their tears. It is, at best, a heartbreaking situation.
In another application, I have also known men and women who have jeopardized the privilege of returning to their heavenly home. Some were dealing with problems that made them ineligible to enter the temple and make the eternal covenants that bind us to our eternal home. I have felt their heartache and their longing for opportunities that, at least for a time, were beyond their reach.
The ramifications are poignant and endless. Perhaps we’ve all had these overwhelming thoughts come to mind: What if I am unworthy? What if I could never go home?
If he could have his way, Satan would distract us from our heritage. He would have us become involved in a million and one things in this life—probably none of which are very important in the long run—to keep us from concentrating on the things that are really important, particularly the reality that we are God’s children. He would like us to forget about home and family values. He’d like to keep us so busy with comparatively insignificant things that we don’t have time to make the effort to understand where we came from, whose children we are, and how glorious our ultimate homecoming can be!
We are literally the children of our Heavenly Father. We kept our first estate. During our experience in premortality, we lived with and were cared for and taught by a loving Father. Among other things, we were schooled in what had to be a perfect spiritual and educational environment. And we rejoiced when told of the plan whereby we could prove ourselves. Hence the day arrived when it was our turn to experience a period of probation and testing, a period during which a veil would be drawn over our memories so that we would be free either to walk by faith and by the Spirit or to forsake our spiritual heritage and birthright.
Now we’re here. And I’m sure we would all agree that this second estate has lived up to its billing. It is a time of testing, of probation. The challenges and duties and responsibilities, at times, seem to overshadow almost everything else. Sadly, it’s easy to become so encumbered by the press of daily life that we lose our focus.
One definition of the word focus is “directed attention” or “emphasis” (Webster’s Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary). Perhaps as much as anything in this day and age of mass media, instantaneous worldwide communications, and modern conveniences that seem to help us pack more into each day than would have been considered possible just a few decades ago, we need to focus on and direct our attention to the things that really matter. And simply, what really matters is a personal testimony of Jesus Christ, an understanding of who we are and what we’re doing here, and an absolute determination to return home.
What young musician, finally scheduled to debut in a capacity concert hall after years of agonizing rehearsal, would, while en route to the performance, stop to join a long line forming at the latest hit movie, forgetting the thousands of people waiting to hear her?
What world-class runner, after training for well over a decade, would find himself in the Olympic finals, only to stop running halfway through his race to watch the high-jump finals taking place on the other side of the field?
These examples may seem preposterous—but how much more tragic it is for someone who, equipped with a testimony of the truth and a knowledge of the purpose of life, becomes more absorbed in life today than in life forever. Who’s just a little more concerned about his or her status and standing in mortality than in eternity. Whose focus is not directed to God the Father and his Son, Jesus Christ, with whom it is possible to have a glorious connection and bond.
I fear that, at times, we run the risk of acting like seasoned, conditioned athletes who are more interested in what kind of jogging suits we’ll wear than in buckling down to train for the race. C. S. Lewis had an intriguing way of evaluating this dilemma: “We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. … We are far too easily pleased” (A Mind Awake: An Anthology of C. S. Lewis, ed. Clyde S. Kilby [New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, 1968], p. 168).
The prophet Mormon put it another way: “Why are ye ashamed to take upon you the name of Christ? Why do ye not think that greater is the value of an endless happiness than that misery which never dies—because of the praise of the world?” (Morm. 8:38).
When we have a yearning and don’t know what it is for, perhaps it’s our soul longing for its heartland, longing to be no longer alienated from the Lord and the pursuit of something much higher, better, and more fulfilling than anything this earth has to offer.
After Joseph, son of Jacob, had been reunited with his brothers, he asked them to return home to Canaan to bring his father, Jacob, to him in Egypt. As the brothers were preparing to depart, Joseph said to them simply, “See that ye fall not out by the way” (Gen. 45:24).
Might our Heavenly Father have given us much the same counsel as we departed his presence to begin our earthly sojourn?
May our yearning for home be the motivation we need to so live that we can return to our heavenly home with God our Father on a forever basis, I humbly pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

One time I was with my friends, and one of them said he didn’t believe Jesus Christ was everything people said He was and that the Bible could have been written by anyone. I never felt the Spirit so strongly as when I said, “I know it’s true. I know it.” Everyone was quiet. My friend said he wished he could have that same knowledge. It was the perfect chance to share with him how to obtain a testimony. Pray for Heavenly Father to guide you so you can be an instrument in His hands. Don’t be afraid to share your testimony.
Laura R., 20, Asunción, Paraguay

Several years ago an unusual motion picture swept the theaters in this and in other lands. It was entitled Field of Dreams and was the story of a young man who revered the baseball players of his youth and, from this foundation, carved out a large section from his cornfield and located there a full-blown baseball diamond. People mocked his foolishness and ridiculed his lack of common sense. The film goes on to show the many challenges he faced in completing the project and readying the baseball diamond for view. His was not an easy task. During the period of doubt as to the future success of his dream, he was driven by the reassuring words, “If you build it, [they] will come.” And come they did. Travelers by the thousands visited this unique place, which was filled with baseball’s many memories.

I saw him riding the bus every day on my way home from the university. He always wore the same baggy T-shirt, worn-out tennis shoes, and big smile. And he always sat by himself. He was a special passenger, though, because he was mentally challenged.
Every day the Spirit prompted me to say hello to him. Every day, however, my pride stopped me. I was afraid that someone might see me associating with someone different from everyone else. After all, I had a reputation to keep.
One winter afternoon, when the Spirit was especially strong and my courage was a little greater, I got on the bus, saw him in his usual spot, and sat down next to him—not too close in case I chickened out. When I was almost to my stop, I closed my eyes, said a silent prayer, and turned to him.
“Hi,” I said in an insecure but friendly voice, “I’m Ashley.”
When he smiled at me, my fear and pride immediately melted away.
“I’m Lenny,” he shyly replied.
With those few words, we began a bond of friendship.
The next day I sat next to Lenny again, but it was easier—we were friends. As I sat down, he reached into his backpack and pulled out a handmade Valentine’s Day card. It was addressed to “The pretty girl I see on the bus every day.”
Valentine’s Day was long passed, but Lenny had made this special card for me and had been patiently waiting for the opportunity to give it to me. I couldn’t keep the tears from trickling down my cheeks. How grateful I was that the Spirit hadn’t given up on me and that I had finally put aside my pride and faced my fear of talking to Lenny.
Now he comes to Sunday dinner every week and has become like another member of my family. Every day Lenny helps me remember the blessings that come from forgetting pride and having courage to do what is right. Seeing him every day reminds me of 1 John 4:18: “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear.”

I would like to share with you a story of my home life and my growing up years. To set the stage, you need to know that I am the youngest of three children. In fact, my siblings and I were separated in age by several years, so by the time I was a teenager, my parents had been married for several years and were well-seasoned in this thing called marriage. Growing up, I had never seen my parents argue or even raise their voices at each other, so you can imagine how I felt the first time my husband and I had a disagreement. Thoughts crossed my mind that I must be a poor wife, or that I may have picked the wrong guy to spend eternity with. After all, I was sure I was right and he was wrong.

It was not until later in life when I spent some tender time with my mother. This is when I learned how mad my dad had been when mom cut her long hair off. She said he wouldn’t even talk to her for days. I also came to the realization that all those times when my mom would go missing and I would find her sitting in an idle car out in the garage, this was her time spent communicating with her Father in Heaven, praying that He would help her get through those less than perfect days. It was then that I realized what I had hoped for at the beginning of my marriage was something my mother and father had worked many, many years to develop.

It’s Friday night in Brazil. From Recife to Rio and from Salvador to São Paulo, the great megalopolises of the country teem with life as young people fill the streets, heading down beach boardwalks and downtown drives to outdoor festivals and markets, movies and shows, restaurants and clubs.
But in a certain corner of São Paulo—Brazil’s largest metropolis with a population of 21 million—all the bustle of a big-city Friday night is forgotten as dozens of teenagers play a part in something most unusual.
They sit in small groups around a large, lit-up building, occasionally checking their watches as they quietly talk into the night. They’re not staying up late to hit a dance club. They’re not lingering for the late show. They’re anxiously awaiting something of far greater significance, something their ancestors have also waited for: their assigned time to do baptisms for the dead in the São Paulo Brazil Temple.
Because this temple is the only one in a nation of more than 700,000 Latter-day Saints, its doors are open all night every Friday until late Saturday in order to accommodate the bus loads of Church members from outlying areas who are only able to travel to the temple on weekends. Upon their arrival, stakes are assigned times round the clock to do temple work.
According to temple president Aledir Barbour, handling such large numbers of temple goers “is now our greatest challenge because so many stakes want to come, but we cannot accommodate them all as we’d like.”
He pauses, then smiles and adds, “But certainly it is a challenge we like to have.”
The white-haired, soft-spoken temple president cites an example of a group of youth and their leaders who came by bus from Belo Horizonte, a large city about 200 kilometers northeast of São Paulo. Members of this stake youth group brought with them the names of 10,000 ancestors, all of whom the teens had identified through their own research. The group stayed from Tuesday through Friday, but it wasn’t nearly enough time to do the baptisms for all their ancestors.
The temple baptistry is so full of youth patrons, individuals can usually only be baptized for four or five deceased persons each time they come to the temple. And this is after many teens and their parents from outlying areas have saved for months to travel to the temple, riding on a bus for days to get to São Paulo (Brazil is larger than the continental United States).
When the São Paulo Temple was dedicated in 1978, it could easily handle the Church membership in Brazil, which then totalled less than 60,000. But membership in Brazil has increased by more than tenfold since then, and now the temple is consistently overflowing.
Fortunately, the rapid growth that has caused such a challenge is also a catalyst that is bringing about wonderful change—change that is already beginning to bless the lives of Brazilian youth.
Peering through the rails of a barrier fence, 17-year-old Fabio Fogliatto and his friends of the Canoas Stake watch intently as men in hard hats construct a building near the southern tip of Brazil. Fabio notes with satisfaction that one of the workers leaves the construction site before smoking a cigarette. “He must know this is a sacred site for us,” he says.
On the other side of the fence from the teens is a spectacular sight. Against the backdrop of the city, the walls of what will be the Pôrto Alegre Brazil Temple are rising out of the red earth.
“Just watching them build the temple, I can feel it really is a temple of the Lord,” says Ivan Carvalho, 14, of the Esteio Ward. “It makes me feel even stronger that I want to come here to do ordinances for the dead and for myself.”
Fourteen-year-old Guilherme Recordon of the Estancia Velha Ward adds, “And now that we only have to go 20 kilometers instead of 300, maybe we’ll be able to come here every week!”
The feelings of these boys represent an excitement growing all over Brazil as temples are built. Another temple is nearing completion in Campinas (a city just west of São Paulo), and yet another will be dedicated in the northern city of Recife this summer. As temples are built into the Brazilian skies, youth here are constructing their own temple-worthy lives.
Living worthy to go to the temple is anything but easy for young Brazilians. They are teased by their peers if they don’t use drugs, alcohol, and tobacco. Extreme immodesty is common on billboards and prime-time T.V. Many students carry pornographic magazines to school. During carnaval, a week-long festival for which Brazil is famous, immodesty and immorality are paraded in the streets.
But LDS youth say that looking to the temple helps them keep the commandments despite the many temptations and trials they face. “At school, when you won’t look at the [pornographic] magazines, people make fun of you. But I have a goal to serve a mission and marry in the temple, so I already know that if they push this stuff at me, I won’t do it,” says Fabio Marques, 16, of the Campinas Fourth Ward. “I’ve already made my decision.”
Fabio says having a temple so close to his home in Campinas will strengthen him and his Latter-day Saint friends. “It’s hard to get to the temple in São Paulo, but soon we’ll be able to do baptisms for the dead more easily and frequently at the Campinas Temple. And each time you do that, you make a stronger goal to return to the temple, and to be worthy to marry in the temple.”
Whenever challenges seem too much for 18-year-old Janise Figueiró, she looks at a little bottle of red earth she received from her Young Women president in the Higienópolis (Pôrto Alegre) Ward. “Whenever I look at that soil from the temple site, I remember to live worthy.”
Fourteen-year-old Juliano Garcia of the Guaiba Jardim Ward was thrilled with the prize he’d won. Although he’d only been a Church member for just under a year, he’d managed to win a scripture chase in his multistake seminary bowl. As he began to look through the pages of his prize, a booklet entitled The Holy Temple, he became fascinated with the pictures of temple baptismal fonts and celestial rooms. Juliano didn’t know much about the temple, but as he read in the booklet about baptism for the dead, his heart immediately turned to his deceased grandparents. “I thought about my grandparents, how great they were, and I thought that more than anything I wanted to go to the temple for them.” Juliano hasn’t been able to travel to the São Paulo Temple, but is now preparing to go in Pôrto Alegre.
As Juliano and other Brazilian teens continue to construct their own temple-worthy lives little by little, they do not doubt that when the doors of the new temples are ready to be opened, they will be ready to enter.
When the Angel Moroni appeared to 17-year-old Joseph Smith in 1823, he told the young prophet about the marvelous restoration that was about to take place, quoting from Malachi:
“Behold, I will reveal unto you the Priesthood, by the hand of Elijah the prophet, before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord.
“… And he shall plant in the hearts of the children the promises made to the fathers, and the hearts of the children shall turn to their fathers” (see JS—H 1:38–39).
This prophecy is literally being fulfilled in the hearts of young Brazilians. “The Spirit of Elijah is working … especially on the young people, to do work for their ancestors. It’s something that we cannot explain,” says São Paulo Temple President Barbour.
Take 16-year-old Jeferson Montenegro of Canoas and Suelen Alexandre (15), José Meirelles (18), Priscila Cavalieri (18), Carlita Fochetto (14), and Carolina (16), Christiane (15), and Carlos Rodriguez (12), of São Paulo (pictured above). These young people volunteer in their family history centers for 10–20 hours each week, assisting Church members in their research, entering extracted names into the computer system, and searching for names of their own ancestors.
These teens aren’t unusual. Many Brazilian youth have found the names of hundreds of their ancestors and eagerly begun their temple work. Why? “I feel the influence of the spirit of Elijah,” says Jeferson. “It makes me feel a closeness with those who’ve gone before me.”

Another time I was sent to speak to leaders of churches in the United States and ministers of those churches who had met in Minneapolis to deal with the problem of competition among churches.
When I arrived, I found that I was assigned to be a speaker. My subject was to be: Why there was a need for a restoration of the true Church through Joseph Smith. I was a last-minute substitute for Elder Neal A. Maxwell.
When I arrived in the city the night before the meetings and looked at the program, I called President Hinckley. I told him that the meetings were to last three days, that many talks were to be given at the same time, that the crowd could choose which one to attend. I told him that I thought if I told the truth, I feared that no one would come to my second session and that I might be coming home very quickly. I asked him what he thought I should do. He said, “Use your best judgment.”
I prayed through the night. Somewhere near dawn, I was sure I was to say about the Restoration not, “This is what we believe happened to Joseph Smith and why we believe it happened,” but, “This is what happened to Joseph Smith, and this is why the Lord did it.” In the nighttime I was given no assurance of the outcome, just a clear direction—go forward.
To my amazement, after my talk the ministers lined up to speak to me. Every one of them, one after another coming to me, told essentially the same story. Each of them had met a member of the Church somewhere in their lives that they admired. Many of them said that they lived in a community where the stake president had come to the aid of not just his members but of the community in a disaster. They asked if I could take back their greeting and their thanks to people I not only didn’t know but had no hope of ever meeting.
By the end of the three days of meetings, larger and larger crowds were coming to hear the message of the Restoration of the gospel and the true Church of Jesus Christ not because they believed the message but because they had seen goodness in people’s lives—the fruits of that restoration.