Gospel Story Finder

One Saturday morning many years ago, my brothers and sisters and I scurried around the house, doing our chores early. We were excited because Dad had promised to take the family for a ride in the five-year-old station wagon he had recently bought. We had wanted him to get a newer vehicle, but he said a newer car would be too expensive. Besides, he said, the one we bought was heavier and would be safer in an accident. That was an important factor for Mom, who had recently been in a terrible head-on collision and had almost died.
Once we had finished preparing everything, we all piled into the car—Mom, Dad, and seven children, including an infant son. Since we were going out for a Saturday-afternoon drive, we didn’t pack a lunch or take anything to drink.
We made our way out to the highway and headed north. It was hot, and we had no air-conditioning. The vista around us was the bleak, open desert, with scattered desert plants, an occasional outcropping of rock or a telephone pole, and the low mountain ranges on the horizon. Despite the heat and barren scenery, we were content to be on a fun family outing.
The mood of contentment was broken, however, by a whimper from my mother. The memory of her accident was still fresh, and the sight of oncoming cars frightened her terribly. Dad decided for her sake to get off the highway. “Here we are,” he said in a cheery voice as he turned onto a dirt road that followed a row of huge power lines. Leaving a cloud of dust behind us, the car whistled down the old road. To my 13-year-old mind this was all great fun.
Enjoying the ride, none of us children noticed the troubled look that came to Dad’s face. But my mother knew something was wrong. “What is it, Anthony?” she asked.
“Well,” he answered, “it’s probably nothing, but that sand out there looks treacherous. We had better head back.” With that, he found a wide spot on top of a little hill and turned the car around.
We started back down the small incline and headed up the next little hill—and then it happened. The car sank in soft sand. Several of us got out and pushed as hard as we could, but it would not move forward. We managed to back it up onto some solid ground so Dad could get a run at the sandy area and try to drive through it. His repeated attempts at this failed, however, especially since he had to be careful not to back up too far into another sandy place. Each attempt moved the car a little ahead, but then it would sink even deeper into the soft, powdery sand.
The little children started to cry now. “We’re thirsty, Mom.” As the hot afternoon sun beat down, we could see heat waves coming up off the sand, distorting the view of the mountains on the horizon.
Then we heard in the distance a faint sound coming toward us. The drone of a single-engine aircraft grew louder and louder as it approached. “Oh, we are saved!” I cried as I saw the airplane. “Let’s all wave him down!” Frantically we waved our arms. This was the airplane that inspected power lines, and the pilot was flying so low we could see him leaning out the window. He was returning, with a vigorous wave of his own, what he must have thought was a greeting from us. As the plane flew off and the sound of its engine faded softly away, we knew we were on our own.
The situation was growing desperate. We had no food or water, my mother was struggling with a now hysterical baby, the four girls were crying, and even my brother and I began to doubt our chances of getting home safely.
Dad called us together and said, “We have only one thing left to do. Let’s ask Heavenly Father for help.” We all knelt in the burning sand and bowed our heads as Dad poured out his heart in behalf of the entire family. He explained our situation to the Lord in detail, including all of the things we had done to free ourselves, and then he pleaded for help.
After the prayer we stood, and Dad said, “Let’s try it one more time.” He had all of us stay out of the car while he backed it up to make one more run. The engine roared as Dad took off as fast as he could. The car hit the sand, but this time it kept going as if it were floating. Dad drove to the top of the next hill and stopped on solid, rocky ground. We all cheered and ran toward the car.
When we reached it, Dad was sitting at the wheel, shaking and sobbing, something I had never seen him do before. When we asked him what the matter was, he looked up and said that it seemed to him as if the car had been lifted and carried over the sand by an unseen power.
We rode home quietly as the bright orange colors of the setting sun shone in the western sky. No one spoke, as if not to disturb the reverent feeling that lingered among us in the car. While I recognize that answers to prayers come in various forms and are not always dramatic, I am grateful to Heavenly Father for the blessings of that day.

In order to keep the Sabbath day holy, I once had to lose my job. But I know now that God lives. This is a great joy, isn’t it? Another time, shortly after my marriage, I became seriously ill. For two years my condition worsened and doctors gave no hope for my recovery. Finally, however, through a powerful priesthood blessing, my health was fully restored. Without your help and the help of other missionaries, I might never have known about the restoration of the priesthood. I don’t know how to thank you all enough for your sincere hearts and your love for me.

About 15 years ago my doctor told me that I had to make a lifestyle change: “Start being more active, or you won’t live very long,” he told me. I took his warning seriously. I decided to start running.
To make this lifestyle change successful, I needed to keep the long view in mind because if I only had the short view, I wasn’t going to get very far.
My long view is a recurring goal to run one marathon each year. This goal helps me get up and run every day because I know that on one certain day next year, I’m going to have to run 26.2 miles (42.2 kilometers). I stay disciplined to train and meet my short-term goals each week because I know they’re getting me ready for race day.
Sometimes there are things that try and stop me, like the weather. Maybe it’s too hot or too cold outside, or maybe it’s raining. So I have to run inside on the treadmill, even though I significantly prefer to run on the street. Injuries also try and stop me. Maybe I didn’t stretch properly before my run, so I tweak my hamstring. Or maybe it’s not necessarily my fault that I got injured. But no matter how it happens, I can’t give up because I know I’m going to be running a marathon next year. So I make alterations to my training. I recover and get back out running.
Running has taught me a lot about the gospel. We all have a long-term gospel goal to endure to the end and achieve exaltation. But we set short-term goals like taking the sacrament at church each week that help us get there. We get spiritually injured when we make mistakes. But we don’t give up. We repent, and we get back out there. The only way we can achieve our long-term goal is by making little changes all along the way to help us stay on track.
For over a decade, I worked as the senior vice president for Walmart in Brazil. My family was financially stable, I enjoyed my job, and life was good. But the job was demanding. It required me to travel a lot, which was interfering with our family and with my Church service. After 11 or 12 years, it was becoming too much.
My wife and I counseled together and proposed that I leave this job. We talked it through with our children, and together we said, “It’s time for us to make a change.”
When I quit, I plummeted from senior vice president to unemployed. It took nearly a year to find and accept another job. When I finally took a position with a small real estate company in the United States, I felt good about it. This job would let me dedicate more time to the things that really mattered.
But other people told me I was crazy. Why leave a stable job for a real estate company no one has even heard of? And move halfway across the world to the United States?
They were right that this was a huge change we were choosing to make. But they were wrong that it was a poor choice.
It took a lot of faith for us to switch jobs and move to a new country, but the Lord took care of us. And I had more time to fulfill my responsibilities as a husband, father, and ward member.
I believe change is mandatory for achieving our potential. We will never become what Heavenly Father wants us to become if we’re stationary in our lives. And we become like Him as we make deliberate changes in faith.
Another big change that happened in my family was when my youngest brother died in a car accident. We didn’t choose or want that for him or for us, and it’s still painful, even after 10 years. Forced change is never easy.
But the changes we don’t choose can also become opportunities to build our faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. It’s easy to stay faithful when things are going our way. But can we keep the faith and keep going when the changes don’t fall in our favor?
Divorce, infertility, unemployment, illness, and other painful experiences like these are not experiences we hope and plan for. They can make us feel like life is happening outside of our control. But that’s not entirely true—amid your unsolicited circumstances, there are still things you can control. You can set small goals, even just the goal to get through one more day. You can do it! You can bear all things with patience! (see Alma 38:4).
Joseph of Egypt is a perfect example of this. His life was full of forced change—he lost his freedom twice! (Once when his brothers sold him into slavery, and again when Potiphar put him in jail.) But Joseph didn’t break down because his circumstances were undesirable or unplanned for. He adapted and grew through his experiences. And in the end, he saved his family and an entire nation. The Lord was molding him and preparing him the entire way (see Genesis 37–46).
It’s hard to be patient when forced change upsets your plan, but remember that the long-term goal is to achieve exaltation. Heavenly Father knows what we need to get there: “Ye are not able to abide the presence of God now, neither the ministering of angels; wherefore, continue in patience until ye are perfected” (Doctrine and Covenants 67:13).
Heavenly Father loves you and wants you to succeed. He wants you to be happy. And He’s laid out a plan for you to achieve both of those things.
When I see mortality for what it’s meant to be—training—the changes in my life become more purposeful. Change helps me achieve my long-term goal, which is to become like my Savior Jesus Christ. I know Heavenly Father shares the same long-term goal for me and for all His children. Just like my doctor knew I needed to change something for the sake of my health, God clearly sees the changes we need to make to become like Him. He supports us and supplies resources like the scriptures, a local congregation, and a living prophet to help us in our quest to change for the better.
On the hardest days—those days when it’s hard to get out of bed and put on your running shoes, when you know you need to repent, or when you are struggling with some other unexpected change—we remind ourselves of God’s infinite love and of His desire for us to be even happier than we are right now.
That reminder gives us the strength to make the changes the Spirit prompts us to make. And it helps us trust that the unexpected changes we’re forced to make are part of His plan for our greatest happiness.

After completing what I was prompted to write, I returned to bed. I had been asleep only a short while when Bradley, my three-year-old son, suddenly awakened me. “Indians, Indians. I dreamed about Indians,” he said. I was astonished; I felt that his words were an affirmation of my own dream. I was even more astonished when I later asked him about his dream.
“I dreamed an Indian chief came to our house,” he said.
“How did you know he was a chief?” I asked.
“He said he was a chief,” Bradley replied. “He asked me for some bread. I took him to the kitchen to get some. He said, ‘No, not that kind of bread.’”
“Were there other people with him?” I asked.
“Yes,” came the answer. “They were waiting for him.”
Later, as I sat in sacrament meeting thinking about the dreams, I silently prayed for guidance that I might be able to find the information necessary to do my Choctaw ancestors’ temple work. I felt impressed to acquire a copy of a record I had seen some twenty years earlier at the National Archives in Washington, D.C. It was the Choctaw-Armstrong Roll of 1831, and it contained records of the Choctaw before their trek over the “Trail of Tears” to Oklahoma. This census had on record some 3,000 heads of families and represented about 17,000 people. I had photocopied the pages from it that dealt with my ancestor named Betsy.
I wrote to the National Archives, requesting a microfilm copy of the entire record. I also contacted the Church Family History Library in Salt Lake City, Utah, and asked whether temple work could be done for people listed on the record. I then asked for and obtained permission to help do name extraction work on the Choctaw-Armstrong Roll.
I also went to Philadelphia, Mississippi, as I had been prompted. There, on the Choctaw reservation, I learned the story of the Nanah-weya. Archaeologists think that the Choctaw are probably of Mayan descent—from Central America—because their language, customs, and culture are similar to those of the Mayans. Choctaw legends tell of their migration from their old lands, where they had been persecuted. A prophet had told them of a land waiting for them, where they would be safe. Two brothers, Chataw and Chickasaw, led the people out of the old land.
The people followed the “leaning pole,” a sacred pole placed in front of the leaders’ camp each night. Some legends say that a sacred medicine bag was tied to the pole. Each morning, the people traveled in the direction the pole leaned. They carried their ancestors’ bones with them.
When they reached the area that is now Northern Mississippi, there was a tremendous rainstorm. The people thought that in the morning they would find the sacred pole flat on the ground because of the rain. Instead, the pole stood straight, its shaft buried deep in the mud.
That is where the people stayed. In the new land they held a great council to decide what to do with their ancestors’ bones. The decision they made was to build a large mound and bury them there. This mound, called the Nanah-weya, means “leaning mountain,” or “mother mound.”
I asked a Choctaw from Oklahoma if he knew the meaning of the word Nanah-ku-chi. He told me that it means “to bring out of the mountain.”
“You have said it just the way the Choctaw would say it,” he told me. “Nanah means mountain; Ku-chi means to bring forth.” I concluded that the words I had heard must have meant that the names of the Choctaw dead should be brought out of obscurity so that the Choctaws’ temple work should be completed.
My trip to Mississippi bore great fruit. There, in a courthouse, a woman gave my aunt and me a copy of some family records. Later, when I read through it, I was amazed. Before, I had had only three names on that particular family. Now I had more than sixty pages of information! There, at the beginning of the line, was the name of Ikenaby, an Indian chief who had lived during the early 1800s and who had married a white woman by the name of Kearney.
I continued to help with the work on the Choctaw-Armstrong Roll. Lorraine Nievar of Ardmore, Oklahoma, whose ancestors are Choctaw and French, also helped with name extraction work on the record. When the work was complete, 1,500 names from the record were sent to the temple in Dallas, Texas, so that Sister Nievar and her family could help perform their ancestors’ temple work. Another 1,500 names were sent to the Logan Utah Temple, where many of my friends and neighbors have helped with the work.
I believe that many members of the Choctaw Nation who lived during the early 1800s have accepted the temple work completed in their behalf. As I participated in baptisms for the dead one Saturday morning, I felt their gratitude. During one particular temple session, I was asked to speak to the members of a Logan ward. While we sat together in the temple’s chapel, I told them the story behind the names they carried that night. I remember that temple session as one of the most sacred I ever attended.
I recall feeling a vivid sense of light and joy at one particular point in the session. I thought of my son’s dream. My friends and neighbors were now giving the “bread of life” to those who had asked for it. I again felt that those whose work we were performing, though unseen, were grateful for the opportunity to accept the gospel. Though they had once walked the “Trail of Tears,” now they could walk the straight and narrow path of joy that leads to eternal life.
Many native American records have been compiled by various organizations. It is now possible to do more temple work for native American ancestors than ever before; many of them are eager to receive the saving ordinances of the gospel.
I learned just how eager they were one spring day while driving to Salt Lake City to talk with a woman there. Suddenly, I felt that I could hear the sound of drums beating. I seemed to see an Indian woman, dressed in an oversize plaid shirt, a Navajo skirt, and a silver medallion belt. The seat beside me was empty, but I could sense her presence.
When I arrived in Salt Lake City, I felt prompted to ask the woman with whom I had the appointment whether she had any Indian ancestors. But Carolyn doesn’t look Indian; she’s blonde and blue-eyed, I thought to myself. She’ll think I’m crazy.
When I met Carolyn in her office, the prompting for me to ask was just as strong as it had been in the car. So I asked if she had Indian ancestors.
“Yes,” she said. “My grandmother was Cherokee and was adopted by the Navajo.” She told me about how her “Granny” had worked as a nurse for many years with the Navajo in Arizona, Oklahoma, New Mexico, and Texas. Later, I asked Carolyn about the clothing her grandmother had worn, and she described to me the clothing I had seen the woman wearing.
I told Carolyn about the temple work we had done for the Choctaw. She was thrilled about the possibility of doing the same work for the Cherokee. The Cherokee were the second nation to walk the “Trail of Tears”; there is a record of the tribe in its entirety from 1835—before they had settled in Oklahoma. Carolyn is now doing extraction work on that record, preparing names for the temple.
I know that my Choctaw ancestors desired the blessings of the gospel. My love for my ancestors has grown as I have learned about them. Though they suffered great hardship in mortality, they are now receiving the great blessings of the temple.

Jeremy (name changed) is a boy at school who doesn’t have very many friends. Nobody ever wants to sit by him at lunch. One day I had a feeling that I should sit with him. I looked at Jeremy all alone at the table and thought for a minute. Then I took a deep breath, walked to the table, and sat down next to Jeremy. He had a big smile on his face. I felt good inside, and I knew that I had done the right thing.

I have a three year old grandson named James. My daughter had been teaching him to be careful about strangers. She was quizzing him to see how well he had listened to her and asked him, “James would you ever get into a car with a stranger?” He answered, “No.” She continued, “What if he said he would give you candy? Then would you go with him?” James thought for a minute and finally said, “I’m not telling.” My daughter became a little alarmed and said, “James, you never go with a stranger even if he has candy. It is very dangerous!” James then said, “Don’t talk to me mommy!”

As a new mission president in the fall of 2011, I was excited to be out among our missionaries. My wife, Emily, and I decided to do apartment inspections and visit every pair of missionaries in the mission.
As we traveled from Guatemala City to one of our more remote zones, known as Sololá, we learned that a demonstration was blocking the road in front of us. Demonstrations in Guatemala can take hours, and there is usually no way to get past them. But when we inquired about a possible detour, we learned of another route. That route, however, came with the following warnings:
It is not a great road.
Make sure you are not on the road after dark.
Bands of robbers frequent the road.
Like any zealous new mission president and wife, on Emily and I went. After driving a while, we came to a spot on a dirt road that looked like a steep drop-off in front of us. Emily joked that we should get the camera out and take pictures as we went over the edge.
Years earlier, when I was a young missionary in Guatemala, I had learned that a small branch dragged onto the road meant “proceed with caution.” It might even mean “stop.” I had seen a branch but failed to register what it meant.
A moment later, we found ourselves dangling off a 20-foot (6 m) ledge where a bridge had washed out. I managed to climb out my side, but Emily could not open her door. When she tried to climb over the seat and come out my door, the vehicle began to rock. Obviously, it was a very disconcerting moment.
Many thoughts ran through my mind. I could see the headlines: “New Mission President Drives over Embankment Where There Was No Bridge, Resulting in Severe Injury to Wife” or “New Mission President and Wife Missing after Being Robbed on a Road They Should Not Have Been Traveling on.”
Not knowing what to do, I paused outside the vehicle and pleaded with Heavenly Father, “Please help me in my moment of carelessness.” Can you believe that a large banana truck suddenly pulled up behind us? The driver and passengers saw us and came over to laugh and enjoy the predicament of the silly gringo. They pointed out the branch on the road. Literally, it was just a twig.
Then, to our miraculous blessing, they retrieved from their truck the only chain I saw in three years of service in Guatemala. Before they left, they cut down a tree and pulled it across the road. I think they wanted to make sure that the next North American to come by did not make the same mistake.
I tell you this story to make the point that we must heed warnings, promptings, and direction given us by the voice of the Lord—no matter how strong or mild. That voice comes in many forms: scriptures, commandments, whisperings from the Holy Ghost, words of living prophets, and counsel from parents, Church leaders, and good friends. Are we listening for and heeding these promptings and warnings? Why is it important to do so?
We read in Proverbs:
“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.
“Be not wise in thine own eyes: fear the Lord, and depart from evil” (Proverbs 3:5–7).
We must trust the Lord with all our heart. We must understand that our knowledge falls short of what is best for us and best for others. If we do trust in Him, what a wonderful promise He bestows: He will direct our paths.
In our family, we have a saying that became an important part of our mission. President Russell M. Nelson has been teaching the concept for a while. He said it this way: “Obedience brings success; exact obedience brings miracles.”1
Our family and mission version is “Obedience brings blessings, but exact obedience brings miracles.”
I do not completely understand what exact obedience means, but here is what I have come to understand. It does not mean that we are perfectly obedient right now in all things, although we can be perfect in obeying many of the Lord’s commandments. Hence, repentance must be a key part of exact obedience. Exact obedience requires a commitment to all the warnings and promptings and commandments Heavenly Father gives us.
Sometimes we will not understand why Heavenly Father asks certain things of us. Those times can be some of the toughest times to be exactly obedient. Remember when Adam, one of the greatest of all, was asked why he gave sacrifice: “And after many days an angel of the Lord appeared unto Adam, saying: Why dost thou offer sacrifices unto the Lord? And Adam said unto him: I know not, save the Lord commanded me” (Moses 5:6).
Lead, Kindly Light, by Simon Dewey; Christ’s Image, by Heinrich Hofmann
Emily has been a wonderful example of exact obedience even when she has not understood. During the October 2000 general conference, she heard the following counsel from President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008): “We discourage tattoos and also ‘the piercing of the body for other than medical purposes.’ We do not, however, take any position ‘on the minimal piercing of the ears by women for one pair of earrings’—one pair.”2
When my wife arrived home, she explained to our second daughter the importance of following the prophets no matter what. As she talked, my wife also obeyed. She took out her second pair of earrings for the last time. I believe she still does not understand why, but I know that why does not matter to her.
To some of us, that may seem insignificant because it is such a small thing. That is true. However, I do not remember the Savior saying, “If ye love me, keep my commandments that appear important” (see John 14:15).
My dear brothers and sisters, one clear voice of warning we must always heed comes from the Lord’s chosen apostles and prophets. It might not be popular by the world’s standards, just like that small thing requested by President Hinckley. But you can—you must—trust that it comes from Heavenly Father. It might be only a small twig, or it might be a whole tree dragged across the road. I exhort you to read or listen to general conference with this thought in mind: What twigs or trees did the Lord place in my path?
Some of you may be thinking, “Well, that is great. But what do you do when you are seeking promptings, counsel from the Lord, warnings, and direction, and you just do not seem to receive an answer?”
Maybe you have this concern regarding important decisions in your life. Remember the promise to trust in the Lord with all your heart, and He will direct your paths.
Regarding important events in our lives, we do want clear direction, and that may be hard to find. But I have come to understand that if I am repentant, being exactly obedient, following my leaders, and making other good choices—in other words, if I am worthy—Heavenly Father will not let me make big mistakes without proper warning. Nor will He let you.
My young friends, Heavenly Father is here to keep us from making costly mistakes if we seek His warnings, promptings, and revelations from all available sources—and if we heed and act upon them. We have the right to have the Holy Ghost always with us, especially in crucial moments of life.
That you will successfully identify the warning twigs and trees that Heavenly Father places in your path is my hope.
I testify that as we heed the voice of the Lord, as we receive it from its many sources and strive to be exactly obedient, we can have a life that ends with “and they lived happily ever after.” That can happen only by living the doctrine of Christ and making and keeping sacred covenants.

They have faced many obstacles as they work to identify ancestors for temple ordinances. There are no written family history records available, so they have had to rely on the memories of their living relatives.
Communicating with those relatives has been difficult: they live hundreds of kilometers away, and few people in the remote villages of their families have mobile phones.
Despite the challenges, the Lord is blessing the Shamola family in their efforts to identify their ancestors.
Recently, Brother Shamola was thrilled to receive additional information about his ancestors from an oral interview that was conducted in his grandmother’s village in Homa Bay, on the western shores of Kenya.
The interview was given by a family member and recorded for future reference. It gave him information about seven generations of his family, and he was able to identify many ancestors of whom he was previously unaware. He has already submitted several of their names to the temple and plans to submit many more in the future.

Sacrifice has always been required of missionaries. Brigham Young recorded: “In company with several of the Twelve I was sent to England in 1839. We started from home without purse or scrip, and most of the Twelve were sick; and those who were not sick when they started were sick on the way to Ohio; Brother Taylor was left to die by the roadside, by old Father Coltrin, though he did not die. I was not able to walk to the river, not so far as across this block, no, not more than half as far; I had to be helped to the river in order to get into a boat to cross it. This was about our situation. I had not even an overcoat; I took a small quilt from the trundle bed, and that served for my overcoat, while I was traveling to the State of New York, where I had a coarse satinette overcoat given to me. Thus we went to England, to a strange land to sojourn among strangers.” (Preston Nibley, Missionary Experiences, Bookcraft, 1975, p. 90.)

Growing up without a father, I was fortunate to have wonderful Church and Scouting leaders as role models. One of these was my father’s cousin, Israel Bennion. He was the stake patriarch, and when I was seven, he paid us a visit that helped me look forward with courage and hope during those hard years.
Each of us children, scrubbed clean and dressed in our Sunday best, waited in turn for this dignified man to place his hands on our heads and give us our patriarchal blessings. Mine was only 263 words long, but it has been a guide to me my whole life. It helped me begin to realize that I was literally a son of God and that He knew who I was and what I was doing. If I lived the right way, He would help me. It sustained me when I was in the Navy in World War II. It inspired me on my mission. Throughout my life it helped me chart a course that included honesty and high moral standards.

It was a cool, overcast morning in 1919. Twelve-year-old Howard Hunter sat in the congregation in an aging frame chapel in Boise, Idaho. He had been a member of the Church only a short time, but he loved the gospel with all his heart.
Most of the members had mixed feelings that morning. There was excitement about the announcement of a plan for a new chapel. But there was concern about the cost. Ward members were asked to pledge what they could afford, but these were hard times and there was not a lot of money to spare.
The young boy rose to his feet. “I’m Howard Hunter, and I pledge $25,” he said in a loud voice. Howard had worked years to save that money, a large amount for anyone in 1919. But he knew the new chapel was worth the sacrifice. Others followed his example. The money was found. The chapel was built.
For most of his life, President Howard W. Hunter has been setting examples people have loved to follow. On June 5, 1994, Howard W. Hunter was ordained as the 14th President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. His example now becomes a symbol of the Church he so loves.
On November 14, 1907, Howard William Hunter was born in Boise, Idaho, to John William and Nellie Marie Rasmussen Hunter. Howard was the eldest of two children.
His father was not a member of the Church when Howard was a boy. His mother was, however. She taught him the gospel, and when Howard turned eight, he desired to be baptized. His father felt Howard should wait until he was older to make that decision. Howard followed his father’s wish, but eventually the longing for Church membership became too much to bear.
“When I was 12, I joined the LDS Boy Scout troop,” said President Hunter. “I sat in sacrament meetings with the other boys. When it was time for them to pass the sacrament, I would slump down in my seat. I felt so left out. I wanted to pass the sacrament, but couldn’t because I had not been baptized. I finally prevailed upon my father to allow me to be baptized” (Church News, May 19, 1985, p. 4).
Howard and his younger sister, Dorothy, were baptized in the public swimming pool.
As a deacon, young Howard started the fire in the stove to take the chill off the chapel, and then advanced to pumping the bellows for the organ.
As a Scout, he became only the second boy in Idaho to receive an Eagle Award.
According to his sister, he was a polite, popular young man, though he did not call attention to himself. Dorothy said that he just did the things he felt were important in his own “quiet, sweet way. He was awfully good to me, and I can truthfully say I have never known my brother to do a wrong thing in his life” (Ensign, Apr. 1986, p. 23).
While still in high school Howard developed his natural ear for music by learning to play the piano, marimba, drums, violin, clarinet, saxophone, and trumpet. He formed a band, Hunter’s Croonaders, that followed him to the University of Washington in Seattle. Eventually they gained employment as a dance band on a ship bound for the Orient.
Howard moved to California. At a Church dance he met Clara May Jeffs, a former fashion model who was working as a personnel manager of a large Los Angeles department store. Soon after meeting Clara May, Howard realized that his days as a musician were numbered. A musician’s hours were not conducive to the type of family life he wanted. So, before he took Clara to Salt Lake City to be married in the temple, he packed away his instruments for good.
Howard and Clara were married in the Salt Lake Temple on June 10, 1931. The newlyweds returned to California where Howard went to work in a bank.
From the years 1934–39, Howard maintained a grueling schedule of work, Church assignments, and night school. In 1939 he graduated cum laude with a degree in law from Southwestern University in Los Angeles. During those years the Hunters’ three sons were also born: Howard William, Jr., who died in infancy, John J., and Richard A.
After passing the California state bar examination, Brother Hunter started his private law practice and became a highly respected member of the legal community.

My family had family prayer and family home evening, and during those times, I learned the importance of communicating with Father in Heaven.
I remember one time when one of our puppies was run over by a car. Heartbroken, I carried the puppy into my mother. “He’s not going to live!” I cried. With her infinite wisdom, she helped me place the tiny body in a box and suggested we say a prayer. We knelt and prayed, then headed to the vet.
When the vet came into the room, he took one look at the puppy and asked why we had come. “There’s nothing wrong with this animal,” he said. But I knew that there had been—I had seen the car run over him. That was a great testimony to me about the power of prayer. I knew then and know today that Heavenly Father hears and answers our prayers.

I found the first when I was welcomed into a priests quorum, with the bishop as our president. That may seem a small, unremarkable thing to you, but it gave me a sense of power in the priesthood that has changed my service in the priesthood ever since. It began by the way he led us.

As near as I could tell, he treated the opinions of young priests as if we were the wisest men in the world. He waited until all who would speak had spoken. He listened. And when he decided what should be done, it seemed to me that the Spirit confirmed the decisions to us and to him.

I realize now I had felt what the scripture means when it says that the president is to sit in council with the members of his quorum.1 And years later as I was a bishop with my priests quorum, both they and I were taught by what I had learned as a young priest.

Let me tell you of a young man I knew some years ago. He began dating long before he was 16. He took young ladies out alone, to places where he and a girlfriend ought not to have gone. He began going steady. Hand-holding led to kissing, kissing to more passionate kissing, then petting, and finally fornication a number of times in his later teen years.

From the earliest parts of that downhill road, his parents and priesthood leaders fervently counseled him to turn away from bad practices. He always dismissed the counsel.

“I never planned on going all the way,” he said once, “I thought a little involvement with the world would give me experience.”

When it was time for his missionary interviews, he made matters worse by lying to his bishop and stake president. I was amazed to learn later that he’d even transgressed morally after he had received his call and been to the temple. How disappointed the Lord must have been to see one of his servants take a call so lightly. How much more disappointed the Lord must have been to see him set aside his temple covenants.

In the Missionary Training Center, this young man felt great agony. He couldn’t sleep most nights. The Spirit of the Lord came strongly upon other missionaries, but he felt miserable. His leaders asked if there were transgressions that had not come to light. He kept on lying.

In the mission field, the intensity of the Spirit increased. The other missionaries began to have spiritual experiences, to teach the missionary discussions with power and authority, to baptize, and to experience solid growth as they served the Lord.

Finally, this young man could go no further in deceiving his companions, his parents, his local leaders, and his mission president. Several weeks into his mission, in total agony for his sins, he confessed them to his mission president.

What a sad experience! He felt greatly relieved that he’d finally confessed, but with all his heart wished he had done so four or five years earlier. With great sadness for all, the young man was sent home. One can only imagine the pain, humiliation, and regret. How his parents and family wept! How the heavens must have wept!

He told me that in the beginning it was hard to lie, but it became easier as he went along. The Lord told us that in the telestial kingdom, the lowest of the three kingdoms of glory, will be found the murderers, the adulterers, and the liars. Lying is that serious! We may temporarily deceive our fellowman, but we will never deceive the Lord. We will suffer agony and misery until the truth is finally known. However smart, educated, or talented you may be, you cannot fool the Lord.

As the years have gone by, this young man has faced serious trials as a result of his sins and lies of his youth. He was finally married and had children, but later separated from his wife. Because of additional transgressions he was excommunicated.

Now this man is at last back in the Church, reunited with his wife, and trying his best to raise up his family to the Lord. But it has been a long, difficult road. As a young man, he never would have believed how serious the consequences would be for having transgressed and then not corrected the situation when he was young. He has learned through bitter experience that those transgressions tend to follow one through the years and affect parents, spouses, and children.

When I was in college I heard many of the world's voices about how to live and who we are. These are very persuasive voices and in the midst of them my sense of myself as belonging and being obligated started to be drowned out. At a turning point in my life, however, I heard a voice renewing that feeling of obligation and belonging. I took President Benson's invitation and started to read in the Book of Mormon daily and as I did so the feelings of connection were strengthened. The feelings of belonging were not only strengthened, but also deepened and clarified.
I was getting close to my twentieth birthday and I wanted to prepare to serve a mission. In Conference that fall President Benson spoke of his vision of missionaries going into the field with hundreds of passages of the Book of Mormon memorized. [6] When I heard him say that I had the same feeling I did when I learned about the meaning of honor from the Hebrew Dictionary many years before. The Holy Ghost spoke to my heart and taught me. I realized that this was something that I needed to do. So I took little 3 x 5 cards and wrote out Book of Mormon verses. I carried them with me and studied them as I walked between classes or ran errands. One passage that I worked on memorizing was 2 Nephi 31:13. As I went over this scripture word for word, again and again, the power of these words brought a change in my heart. As I studied Nephi's explanation of the covenant I had made many years before I began to understand how I belonged and who I was more deeply.
Wherefore, my beloved brethren, I know that if ye shall follow the Son, with full purpose of heart, acting no hypocrisy and no deception before God, but with real intent, repenting of your sins, witnessing unto the Father that ye are willing to take upon you the name of Christ , by baptism--yea, by following your Lord and your Savior down into the water, according to his word, behold, then shall ye receive the Holy Ghost; yea, then cometh the baptism of fire and of the Holy Ghost; and then can ye speak with the tongue of angels, and shout praises unto the Holy One of Israel (2 Nephi 31:13; emphasis added).
When we are baptized we witness that we are willing to take upon us the name of Christ. We renew this covenant every week when we take the sacrament.
Studying this passage, I realized that I was not just under obligation to bring weight and honor to the name of the Clark family, but I was under obligation to bring honor to the name of Christ. I wasn't just Jennifer Clark, but I had taken upon me the name of Christ when I became a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
As I studied and pondered 2 Nephi 31:13 I was empowered as I realized that I was promised that the Holy Ghost would help me to keep my obligation. I received a witness this was real. I had to be willing to reflect well on Christ, to bring honor to His Church and Kingdom, but it was not just about me and my power. He has power to help each of us as we demonstrate our willingness to become like Him.

Such diligence in scripture reading had not been a long-established habit in our family. Perhaps we were not much different from many other families in the Church when it came to studying the scriptures. We knew we should study the scriptures; we wanted to study the scriptures, but we had never had much success in our attempts. Finally, we decided to dedicate ourselves to gaining a habit of scripture reading. To help us in achieving this goal, we adopted an approach presented by Carvel Whiting, our stake Sunday School president.
His method was simple. He made the habit of reading something each day the primary objective of his program. The goal was to establish an attitude, to raise the scriptures in our awareness. He did not specify how much we should study each day, nor did he suggest that we study in a specific way. We were simply encouraged to read the scriptures every day, no matter how briefly, and to keep a record of how many consecutive days we had read, even if we read only one verse.
Using this simple approach, we could read a few verses or ten pages on any given day. We could read through the scriptures chapter by chapter, or we could study topics. We could use this time to read our assignment for next week’s Sunday School lesson. We could vary from time to time—reading the chapters in sequence, but occasionally skipping to another section of the scriptures or focusing on a specific topic. We could even set a secondary goal to read a chapter a day (or half an hour, or five pages), but if we did not always meet that secondary goal, we were still having success and maintaining our daily scripture study habit as long as we read even one verse during the day.
We found that keeping a record of the number of consecutive days we read gave us a useful and flexible system for motivation and positive reinforcement. Specific numbers of consecutive days (for example, 10 days, 30 days, 50 days, 100 days, 200 days, 365 days) could be identified as milestones, at which we earned some form of reward or recognition in the family. The frequency and nature of the rewards could vary according to the age or maturity of the participants. For example, we had a fairly young family, so we had some type of simple treat every ten days for the younger children.
The program gave our family the motivation we needed to get started. During the first two years we used this approach, our family missed reading the scriptures together only twice. Three of us have passed the 365 day mark, and the record in our family for an individual is held by our oldest son, Tommy, who read 446 consecutive days before missing—during the time he was eight and nine years old. Our two oldest children, Lori and Tommy, have now read the Book of Mormon, the Pearl of Great Price, and the book of Genesis, and are well into the New Testament.

The brightest part of the flame of the pine logs had mellowed into glowing coals as Rob stared into the fire. The heat was strong enough to scorch his face and shins, yet the mountain air chilled his back and shoulders. His dad was sitting on a large rock on the other side of the fire, but neither had spoken for some time. Rob was lost in memories of many other times like this and wondering when the next opportunity would come, if ever.
Every year for six years, Rob and his dad had spent at least one week in the summer on a camping and fishing trip. Last year they had boated to the far end of Yellowstone Lake and camped with the bears. It would have been great to go there again, but Rob wanted to return to the first spot his dad had taken him when he was 12 years old.
As they parked the car and began their hike up the trail, the early morning sky was just beginning to show signs of light. The packs were heavy because of a few extras which would make the camp a little more comfortable. Still, they were experienced enough to know what they could and couldn’t do without. The ten-and-a-half mile hike along a cold rushing mountain stream brought them finally to a small lake nestled in a valley cradled at the edge of the timberline of the upper curvature of the mountain.
The natural beauty was breathtaking and the fishing was superb, but as the hypnotic effect of the glowing coals relaxed strained and tired muscles, Rob meditated on the real reason he wanted to come to this spot. At about this same time of night at a similar fire in the same fire pit six years before, he had asked his father, “Dad, in the celestial kingdom will we be able to go fishing together?”
In just a few words of profound wisdom, his father had responded, “If it is still important to you, then I’m sure it will be possible.”
Over those six years, Rob had recognized some changes in himself. Although these times with his father continued to be important and he was always ready to go when someone said “fishing,” he had learned that fishing was for relaxation and not really a key desire of his heart. In institute classes during his first year of college, a strengthened testimony of the gospel began burning within him and he knew that as soon as possible after his 19th birthday he needed to be leaving on a mission. The words were clear in his mind and seemed to ring out within his soul: “For how knoweth a man the master whom he has not served, and who … is far from the thoughts and intents of his heart?” (Mosiah 5:13). Nevertheless there were some fears, down deep inside of him, about his ability to do the work.
Time has a way of rearranging priorities. Rob was very aware of that, and sensing the end of an era, he had wanted to come back to this place.
His dad spoke, breaking the silence of the night. “The evening fishing was really something, wasn’t it, son?”
“Yeah,” responded Rob instantly. “I never believed that I would be catching two fish at a time. But when I tied the second gray hackle yellow on the line, I had to keep my hands inside the float to keep the fish from getting it before the knot was finished. It was like being able to walk on water and get right out there where the fish were biting.”
With a slight chuckle, his dad commented, “Now you sound like the Apostle Peter. You must have had a lot of faith that those fish were going to give you the thrill of a lifetime.”
Rob didn’t speak for some time and the still of the night began to inch its way back around the edges of the glow of the campfire which silhouetted the forms of the father and son.
“Dad?” Rob’s voice was full of question.
“Yes?”
“Tell me about Peter. How did he walk on water?”
There was a moment of silence before his dad began. “The scriptures say Jesus had sent his disciples ahead of him by ship and he had gone up on a mountain to pray. Apparently the winds were contrary and the water was in high waves. The ship wasn’t making much progress. Sometime between three and six o’clock in the morning, Jesus came to them, walking on the sea. Logically they were terrified until Jesus said, ‘Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid.’
“Then Peter cried out, ‘Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the water.’ And Jesus simply replied, ‘Come.’
“Rob, this is an important point. When God commands, anything is possible. Remember when Nephi was building the ship and he needed to rebuke his brothers for ridiculing him? He said that if God commanded him to do all things, he could do them. If God commanded him to turn water to earth, he could do it. Miracles are accomplished at the command of the Lord or through the direction of the Holy Ghost. The Savior had said to Peter, ‘Come.’ At that command, Peter stepped out of the ship and began to walk on the surface of the water as if it were dry ground. But, in fact, it was a storm-tossed sea. Perhaps Peter, who had spent much of his life upon the sea, said to himself, This can’t be, and immediately he began to sink.
“The Savior stretched forth his hand, caught him and then said, ‘O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?’ (See Matt. 14:22–33.)
“In the School of the Prophets in the early days of the Church in Kirtland, Ohio, it was taught that where doubt is, faith has no power. The moment Peter doubted the possibility of what was happening to him, his faith lost its power to support him on the water. The scriptures don’t say that he had lost his faith in the Lord; so perhaps the doubt was in his own ability.
“Today you were supported in the water by an inner tube full of air and a support system that permitted you to sit there comfortably while you fished. If you had taken a knife and stabbed it into the inner tube, how long would you have stayed afloat?”
“Huh? With all that gear on, I’d sink like a rock. But, Dad, I understand that because a float is like a boat. It’s a device made for travel on water. But Peter … How did that work?”
“If you’ll get me a pot full of water, I’ll give you a demonstration that may help.”
In less than a minute, Rob had grabbed the largest cooking pot they had, gone to a small stream by the side of the camp, filled the pot with water, returned to the fire, and placed a few more logs on it to give better light. He knew he was about to receive some special instruction and he was ready.
In the meantime, his dad had placed a piece of steel wool and a small bottle of dishwashing soap on a flat rock near the fire. Rob couldn’t resist commenting with a smile, “Dad, we’ve already washed the dishes.”
Letting the one-liner slide by, his father began. “Without proper displacement, like in a ship, steel is not supposed to float. But watch this piece of steel wool as I place it on the surface of the water in the pot. It floats. You learned the reason why in physics. It is because of surface tension. The pressure of the molecules against one another on the surface of the water will support the steel fibers. If we break the surface tension, watch what happens. Let’s add just one small drop of dishwashing soap to the water. The surfactants, chemicals in the soap which break surface tension so dishwashing can be effective, break the surface tension below the steel wool and … look. Rapidly the steel wool now acts like steel should and sinks to the bottom of the pot.
“We don’t know if Peter’s faith strengthened the force of the surface tension of the water or if it made him lighter, or if some other force was at work. It really doesn’t matter. What does matter is that the moment he began to doubt, the miraculous power of faith which permitted him to walk on water was broken and he sank, just like steel wool.
“Faith is not a simple subject, Rob. In general terms, our faith must have four parts. First of all we must have faith in our Heavenly Father, that he loves us and will bless us as we do his will. Then we must have faith in Jesus Christ and that through his atonement we can become clean and pure after proper repentance. How can we have his Spirit to be with us if we are not willing to take his name upon us, remember him always, and keep his commandments?
“Next, we must have faith in our leaders. If we doubt their counsel, it is like knifing our own inner tube or using a surfactant to break the surface tension under our feet. In the gospel, if we doubt the prophet, the General Authorities, or our local leaders, we sink like a rock.
Last, but not least, we must have faith in ourselves; in our own ability to receive guidance and revelation because we are abiding by the other aspects of faith. As a result, we can receive the assurance that we do know the will of God and are able to carry it out.
The Savior of all mankind said to Peter, ‘Come.’ Through the Spirit, it is as if he were saying to you, Rob, ‘Come. Trust in me. Serve a mission and I will bless you. Have faith in your Heavenly Father, in me and in the Atonement, in priesthood leaders and in yourself.’ When you do these things, then, if the Lord commands, you will have the power to do all things, including walking on water.”
Father and son sat quietly for some minutes watching the embers dim. The warmth Rob felt now was not from the fire. It came from within, and he felt sure and strong as the words formed in his mind: “Come. Be not afraid.”

It took me a lot of years to reach rock bottom, and having arrived, seeing only loneliness, feeling only emptiness, I thought in despair of giving up. Then my mother came to visit me and asked if I would like to receive the New Era. I used to find them lying around the house and read them from time to time, and I recalled how much I enjoyed the stories, so I told her to order a subscription for me. I received my first issue in January, have just finished reading February, and am looking forward to next month. The articles introduce me to Latter-day Saints with strong testimonies and reflect such courage, faith, and hope that I find I no longer despair. I no longer see only loneliness or feel only emptiness. I find that I have taken heart, drawing strength from the words of the leaders of the Church.
I soon found myself talking about the Church to my cell partner, reading interesting passages from the New Era out loud and answering his more and more frequent questions until he finally picked up the January issue, which led to more discussions, more questions. Today when the guard brought me my February issue of the New Era, my cell partner took it and read it before I did. Afterward we spent a couple of hours discussing what we had read, getting farther into Mormon beliefs and history. He asked me if I’d get him a Book of Mormon and help him to become a member. I can’t tell you how that made me feel. I haven’t led an exemplary life, but I have never passed up an opportunity to proclaim that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the true church of God. The New Era has provided me with an opportunity to do so again and to present the gospel to another and see him embrace it. For this, and for the many hours of reading enjoyment, I want to thank you.
Name WithheldNebraska State Penal Complex

Last summer when I was away from home, a fierce wind and rainstorm blew through our neighborhood. A huge tree had fallen from my neighbor’s yard, filling my yard and knocking down power lines. The tree needed to be removed before the damage could be repaired and power restored to my home.
Early in the morning I called my brother, who planned to find some equipment and come as soon as he could. I also called my bishop. Within minutes my bishop, home teacher, former stake president, and 10 men from my ward were there with their chain saws and made quick work of this disaster. My visiting teachers brought in dinner that evening. Many more men from the high priests group, the elders quorum, and the neighborhood came on subsequent evenings to assist me and my family in cleaning up the mess.
I was needy on that occasion. I needed help from others. My discouragement turned into joy and gratitude. I felt loved and cared for. These people were quick to recognize one in need. They lived their testimony and demonstrated the reality of their covenants.

With flexible, low-cost online courses available through BYU-Pathway Worldwide, obtaining an education is possible for more people than ever, including Samantha Winterdal.
Samantha, from the Dominican Republic, always planned to go to university, but her plans didn’t work out the way she envisioned. After high school, she got a job but felt like something was missing. “Every year that passed, I saw my schoolmates graduating, and I was just working,” Samantha said. “I thought, ‘What am I doing with my life?’”
She decided to pray for guidance. One Sunday, a sister from church mentioned BYU–Pathway to her. Samantha registered and began her first course. Although she couldn’t complete it at that time, she returned to BYU–Pathway years later to resume her studies.
When Samantha was ready to start classes again during the COVID-19 pandemic, she enrolled at a local university. However, the school wasn’t designed to run online and wasn’t accommodating of her schedule, so she left. With the encouragement of her husband, Mario, she decided to go back to BYU–Pathway—she loved it so much that Mario enrolled too!
“We love the flexibility of BYU–Pathway because it allows us to work and take care of my 94-year-old grandfather, who has cancer,” Samantha said. “I know that I will continue to climb to the work level I want, and it will also help me with my own business.”