Gospel Story Finder

It had been a perfect day of exploring a narrow sandstone canyon and basking in the rugged beauty of southern Utah. I was a little worried that we hadn’t come across any signs of previous hikers in the canyon, but we had researched the route and had a good map, so we knew what lay ahead: a spectacular 150-foot rope descent through a waterfall into a picturesque canyon, leading out to the main road. As Dustin, Roland, and I neared what we expected to be the end of our adventure, we stopped to eat the last of our food and grinned at each other in anticipation.
Half an hour later, the canyon opened up to the sunlight, and in front of us the riverbed curved in a different direction than the map indicated. Our spirit of adventure overcame our better judgment, so we followed this new course. The soft sand quickly turned to rock, and we scrambled over boulders and potholes. We successfully negotiated a 40-foot drop, turned a corner—and stared in disbelief. There in front of us the ground melted away, dropping hundreds of feet to the Virgin River below.
It dawned on us that we had messed up somehow. There was no turning back; the slick canyon walls made ascension impossible. My two friends scouted the narrow ledge for a possible route down while I pored over the map. After awhile, my eye spotted another canyon on the map, and this one definitely matched the canyon we were in. Scanning the map, I could see that the cliff we were on was over 400 feet high. Dustin and Roland returned, and we talked about the possibility of trying to descend the cliff with the rope we had. Roland suggested we pray about it, and we quickly agreed.
It was a simple, sincere prayer. We thanked the Lord for keeping us safe and admitted that we had made mistakes. We told Him we were now trying our best to correct ourselves and return to safety. Laying before Him our problem and the possible solution of descending the cliff, we asked for a confirmation. And the Lord truly responded, touching each of us with a quiet feeling in our hearts that we should not try to go down the cliff.
As darkness fell, we realized our only way out was rescue. Our cellular phone received no signal, and we couldn’t go forward or back. When the sun sank behind the opposite mountains, the temperature dropped sharply, and we spent a sleepless night shivering together, hungry and thirsty, a few steps from a 400-foot cliff. Before trying to sleep, we again offered up a prayer of sincere thanks for protection, and a blessing of peace for our families, who had certainly figured out, by now, that something had gone wrong.
The next morning, by the time it was light enough to safely walk around the cliff’s edge, we had decided on several courses of action. We burned leaves to send up white smoke and scattered our equipment around the ledge to make us easier to spot from the air. After we split a granola bar, Dustin climbed up to higher ground to try to get reception for the phone, while Roland and I set about purifying water from a pool. We had made mistakes, and now we could only do everything in our power to be rescued, trusting that the Lord would comfort our families and lead rescuers to us. The day wore on, and our situation worsened. The fire melted our water container, Dustin had no luck with his phone, and we made plans for surviving another night. In that helpless state, I realized like never before my utter dependence on the Lord. I’d never felt so close to Heavenly Father when I prayed.
We thought we heard planes throughout the day, but neither the fire nor our yells brought them any closer. Around noon we heard the thumping sound of an engine grow and saw a helicopter in the distance, but our hopes faded when it flew out of sight. Then, quite suddenly, the search and rescue helicopter burst over the far canyon wall. It spotted Dustin above us and circled, looking for a place to land. Not long after, a rope dropped down to us, quickly followed by the search and rescue team with food, water, and our way home.
As we flew over canyon and mountain to our waiting families, I offered a silent prayer of thanks. The Lord had helped us make wise judgments and had helped our rescuers find us. He had also answered our plea to comfort our families. While they had spent a sleepless night, they had felt the Spirit whisper that we were OK. The Savior’s promise in 3 Nephi 18:21 is true: “Pray in your families unto the Father, always in my name, that your wives and your children may be blessed.” I learned that on the edge of a 400-foot cliff, waiting to be rescued.

I always tell my granddaughter that tithing is the best money I ever spend.
I remember almost 60 years ago when I got into the tithing habit. I had gone to Chicago to find a job after graduation from college. I had $30 in my pocket, earned from a summer job. In Chicago I could stay with friends from college, and since the cost of living in 1941 was low, I thought I would have enough money.
The first Sunday I attended church in the Chicago area, one of the speakers was a newly returned missionary named Scott Whitaker. He talked convincingly about the importance of paying tithing and bore his testimony about the blessings of keeping that commandment. Although I had been raised in the Church, I had never paid or even thought of paying tithing. But all that changed after that sacrament meeting was over. I calculated how much money I had made during the summer, figured the tithing I owed on it, and with almost all the cash I had left, I paid off my tithing debt. I had barely enough left for bus and train fare, and I didn’t have a job yet.
When I left my family in Ames, Iowa, I was sure that I could make it on my own without asking for financial help from my parents. Now I wasn’t so confident.
Finally, down to my last few nickels, I stopped in the waiting room of Marshall Field’s department store and used a piece of complimentary stationery to write my parents a letter asking for help. I paid three cents for the stamp, and the letter would probably take three days to be delivered. Could I hold out that long?
The next day I received a call from a company that needed some temporary help. (It later turned into a full-time job.) Gleefully I called my dad to tell him, “Never mind! I don’t need any money.”
Since that time I have always had what I needed if I paid my tithing. And that is why I say to my granddaughter, “Rachel, paying tithing is the best money I ever spend. It buys me peace of mind.”

Elder Gilbert: This is a picture of my grandparents, Mary Deane Peterson and Art Gilbert. They met at BYU and were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple in 1941. Art was the captain of the BYU football team and was drafted to play professional football for the Detroit Lions. Unfortunately, when he was simultaneously drafted into the Navy, Art was diagnosed with leukemia. My grandma described the loneliness she felt taking the ferry back from the medical center in San Diego. Art would die two years later, leaving my grandma a widow with two young children, including my father. After a lifetime of devoted family service, Christine and I visited her with our own two young children. We noticed Grandma had placed that original picture on her kitchen countertop. She counseled us to cherish our time together. Looking at the picture, she said, “Clark, I’m falling in love all over again.” Grandma would soon pass, and she is now reunited with Art after nearly 60 years apart. Because of temple covenants and ordinances that bind us as families through Jesus Christ, Art and Mary Deane will be bound together for eternity.

I want to talk to you young men about this priesthood and tell you a story or two from our family experience. Several years ago our sons would spend their time during the summer on their grandfather’s ranch. Twelve years ago one of our sons had a horse. It had been given to him when it was born. It had been running with a wild herd of horses on the ranch. It was now two years old, time that it could be broken to ride. Early one summer we went to the ranch. It took all day to get the horses into the corral. Finally we had my son’s horse in a chute and put a heavy halter on it. We put a big rope on it and tied it to a big post. “Now the horse must stay there for two or three days,” I told him, “until it quits fighting the rope, until it settles down.” We worked with it during the morning, and then we went in to eat. He hurried with his meal and then went out to his horse. He was 14. He loved that horse.
Just as we finished the meal, I heard a noise, and I heard him shout. I knew what had happened. He had untied the horse. I had told him not to, but he was going to work with it. In order to hold the horse, he had wrapped the rope around his wrist. As I came out the door, I saw that horse run by. My son was running after it with great big steps, pulled by the horse; and then he fell. If the horse had turned right, it would have gone out the gate into the mountains. It turned left and was cornered by two fences. While it was trying to find its way out, I got the rope off my boy’s wrist and the end of the rope around the post. He was bruised but not badly hurt.
In a little while we had the horse tied up again, and we sat down for a father and son lesson. I said to him this: “My boy, if you are ever going to control that horse, you will have to use something besides your muscles. The horse is bigger than you are; it is stronger than you are. Someday you can ride that horse, but it will have to be trained. You cannot train it with your muscles. It is bigger than you are; it is stronger than you are; and it is wild.”
Two years later we went to the ranch in the spring. This horse had been running all winter with the herd. We went to find it. We found the herd of horses down by the river. I knew if we went too close, they would run. So this boy and his sister took a bucket with some oats and walked quietly to the edge of the meadow. The horses began to move away slowly. Then he whistled, and his horse came out of the herd and trotted up to my boy. We had learned a great lesson. Much had happened in those two years. He had used more than his muscles.
After that near accident had happened, he was frightened. He had disobeyed. And he said, “Dad, what should we do?” And I said, “This is the way we will do it. And one day that horse will run up to you.” He had been prepared and had learned a great lesson.

Clare Magee has lots of friends. One of her best friends is her mother, Sue. They enjoy working in the kitchen together, where they often make one of Clare’s favourite treats, banana sandwiches.
She is also best friends with her sisters, Sara and Emma, who help her get ready for dance concerts. Clare (11) has been dancing since she was four years old; she is also good friends with her dance instructor, Sharon Moore. Sharon’s dance school has been featured on the BBC, a British television network.
Another of Clare’s best friends is her father, William. He’s a firefighter, and she loves to go with him to the station, just down the street from their home, to see the big fire engines. “The firefighters let my dad and me climb up in the engine, and they don’t even say anything!”
She and her father often take their dog, Wags, out for a walk. He’s one of her best friends too. “We rescued him from the pound. He was an abandoned pup, only twelve weeks old. His tail hasn’t stopped wagging since we first met. That’s why he’s named Wags.”
As a family, the Magees like to go bowling, go to the cinema (movies), spend summers at the seaside, and go camping. “It’s a wonderful thing to spend time with your family, because they are your eternal friends,” Clare says.
Her father is the bishop of the Portadown Ward, Belfast Northern Ireland Stake. Her parents have taught her a lot about other friends, like the Prophet Joseph Smith and the living prophet, President Ezra Taft Benson. She has learned of great heroes and heroines in the scriptures; and, most of all, she has been taught about the Saviour, Jesus Christ, and about Heavenly Father. “I know I can trust Heavenly Father and Jesus. When I say my prayers, I know they are heard.”
Clare also likes Primary, where she has been excited to learn about temples. “The Church is building a new temple near Preston, England, and I know I’ll be going there someday.”
The Magees live on a busy street in a house next door to a chemist shop (drugstore). Her family could have moved to the countryside, buy they decided that they like their neighbours and that it was important to have good friends where they live, so they stayed put. “Our neighbours and friends accept us as a Mormon family,” her father says. “They are kind to us, and we try to be kind to them.”
Clare makes friends wherever she goes. She has friends she met in Brownies and in Girl Guides. She has friends she’s made while swimming or playing field hockey. And she has friends she knows from doing a pantomime show at the local town hall, where her mother helped make costumes for everyone in the cast.
When her mother learned that some of the cast members had questions about the Church, she invited them to visit the Portadown Ward meetinghouse. While they were there, many of them and their mothers noticed pictures of the Saviour and learned how deeply Latter-day Saints love the Lord. “Some of them didn’t know that Mormons are Christians,” Clare’s mother explains. “Now they understand that we are.”
Does Clare have some secret that helps her in making all these friends?
“I just remember that we’re all children of the same God, ” she says, “so that means we’re all brothers and sisters.”
And that’s not really a secret.

The doctors said she wouldn’t live, but Iris JoAnn Alvarado is thriving. Her faith, and the faith of her family, has preserved her life many times. When her mother was about to give birth to JoAnnie, the stake patriarch came to their home. He felt impressed to give Sister Alvarado a blessing. She didn’t understand then why she needed a blessing, but she did after JoAnnie was born. Her little girl weighed only a little more than four pounds, and the doctors discovered that throughout the pregnancy she had not gotten much oxygen and that the last three months she had probably not received enough nourishment. The Alvarados were told that she would die and that if she didn’t, she would have severe brain damage from the lack of oxygen.
But JoAnnie’s family prayed for her, and their prayers were answered, because she lived. At four months she was standing; at eight months she could walk. When she started talking, it was in short sentences and the words were very clear—there was obviously nothing wrong with her brain. Today, at nine years of age, she continues to excel, getting straight As in all her school classes.

Mary Elizabeth breathed deeply as she walked down the streets of Independence. Though she missed her uncle’s store in Kirtland, she admired his new red brick store on the corner of two of the widest, loveliest streets in Independence. She enjoyed the excitement of building up Zion.
After a few months in Independence, Mary Elizabeth felt lucky when a man named Mr. Boggs hired her to work as a seamstress. She was only 14 years old, and the extra money she earned would be a blessing for her family. And besides, she liked to sew! The Boggs family lived just a short distance away from Mary Elizabeth’s new home. Mr. Boggs had just been elected to an important political position in the state of Missouri, and he needed new clothes for official occasions. One of Mary Elizabeth’s assignments was to sew Mr. Boggs’s shirt collars.
Mary Elizabeth liked the Boggs family with their many children. She was especially fond of one of the little girls. The Boggs family liked her too. Often Mrs. Boggs sewed with Mary Elizabeth for hours at a time.
One day Mrs. Boggs asked, “Mary Elizabeth, you know we are not Mormons as you are, don’t you?”
“Yes, Mrs. Boggs,” Mary Elizabeth said.
“Mary Elizabeth, your church is wrong,” Mrs. Boggs said. “Being a Mormon will only bring you pain and disappointment.”
Mary Elizabeth sat silently.
“I have spoken with my husband,” Mrs. Boggs went on. “We like you. My husband has power and money, more than your people do. We want to take you in as one of our own. We will provide for you and educate you. You will be one of us.” Mrs. Boggs smiled hopefully.
“I am sorry, Mrs. Boggs, but I cannot abandon my faith or my people,” Mary Elizabeth said. “But thank you for your kindness to me.”
A few months later, things indeed became more painful for the Saints in Missouri. Mobs were starting to attack more frequently. They were even destroying crops and buildings.
One day Mary Elizabeth and her younger sister Caroline were near Brother Phelps’s printing office when a mob began destroying the press and dumping large piles of printed paper out the window. Mary Elizabeth recognized the paper right away. The men were destroying the Book of Commandments!
“Caroline, we must save those papers,” Mary Elizabeth whispered. “Follow me.”
“They will kill us,” Caroline said. “But I will come.”
Waiting until the men had turned away from the girls, each sister grabbed a large armful of papers and began running toward a cornfield. The men saw the girls and began to chase them, yelling at them to stop. The girls ran into the tall corn, laid the papers on the ground, and lay on top of them to protect them. The sisters could hear the men crashing through the corn stalks nearby. Mary Elizabeth and Caroline’s hearts pounded, but to their relief, the girls were not found.
After waiting in the corn for a long time, the sisters carried the papers back to the printing office. They were grateful to be safe and that they had helped the Lord’s work.

One of the challenges, as well as a great blessing, of serving a mission is learning how to adjust to new situations. I served in the North German Mission and was still learning the language when I arrived. The first night I was in Germany, right after I dropped my bags off, my wonderful companion said, “Are you ready to go? Let’s go tracting!” I watched him go to two or three doors and talk to people. Then he pushed the doorbell and said, “It’s your turn!”
I’ll never forget the woman who came to the door while I stood there with a Book of Mormon in my hand. All those feelings of anxiety and nervousness that I’d felt when I stood at the pulpit as a child came back again. But because I had worked hard to learn the language and had experience teaching about the First Vision, I knew what I could say. She didn’t accept the Book of Mormon, and she shut the door on me. My companion looked at me and said, “Nice job, Elder Schwitzer. Welcome to Germany.”
Over time, being a missionary became easier as I had the opportunity to meet people and share the gospel. That’s what is amazing about the gospel of Jesus Christ: the more you testify, the more you grow as a missionary. You don’t just go out to serve a mission; you go out to become a missionary, and in the process you become a disciple of Jesus Christ.

Callings Extended by Inspiration

Another aspect of callings that I would like to discuss is inspiration and revelation. As we serve in church callings, we come to better understand the inspiration and revelation that comes through the Spirit.

Callings are extended by inspiration. The Lord knows what each of us needs to learn. And He inspires church leaders to call us to positions that will help us to develop the attributes we need to ultimately return to Him.

Callings do not come from men; they come from God. This principle is clearly stated in the fifth Article of Faith. It says, “We believe that a man must be called of God, by prophecy, and by the laying on of hands by those who are in authority, to preach the Gospel and administer in the ordinances thereof.” The first part of this article of faith says, “A man must be called of God, by prophecy.” Prophecy means inspiration or revelation, and The Guide to the Scriptures clarifies that prophecy comes “through revelation from the Holy Ghost.” So, we are called through inspiration from the Holy Ghost.

The church handbook also directs that callings are to be extended based on inspiration. Handbook 2 section 19.1.1 states: “A person must be called of God to serve in the Church (see Articles of Faith 1:5). Leaders seek the guidance of the Spirit in determining whom to call.”

I testify that callings in the church are extended through inspiration. I have experienced this inspiration myself and I have seen this inspiration working in church leaders with whom I have served.

One such instance occurred while my family was living in New Zealand. We were living in the Lincoln Ward of the Henderson Stake, which is in west Auckland. A little over a year after we moved into the ward, our bishop extended a call to my wife to be the Young Women’s President. At the time, we were a busy family. I was a full-time graduate student, working a part-time job, and had a busy calling in the ward. My wife was also working part-time. And we had two young children. Young Women’s President carries a lot of responsibility and requires time commitments. When the call came, my wife felt a bit overwhelmed and wondered how she would be able to magnify this calling. Yet, she trusted in the inspiration that the bishop had received and accepted the calling.

Well, there is no way she could have seen at the beginning all of the blessings that resulted from her service. She immediately formed a special bond of love with the young women. She was able to open their hearts and teach them about the gospel. As the young women learned from her, their testimonies grew stronger and deeper. After moving to Hawaii and returning to New Zealand to visit, we have been thrilled to see these young women serving diligently in church callings, going on missions, and furthering their education. That group of young women has become like a lighthouse of faith shining through the darkness. And they hold a special place in my wife’s heart.

And there were other blessings that came from my wife’s service. I’ll just mention one other. Becky and the two sisters whom she called as counselors became great friends. They did not know each other very well before they were called (and I believe that my wife received inspiration to call these two sisters). The three of them bonded and became a strong, unified presidency. And they are still two of the people that my wife looks forward to seeing the most every time we visit New Zealand.

After serving a mission to Sweden, I moved to Provo to attend BYU. I worked part time at the MTC. One day I passed a young woman in the hall who looked familiar. I glanced at her nametag and saw that her name was Sister Gurr. I was surprised to see Lisa, the former cheerleader from my high school! I stopped her and told her who I was, and she was equally surprised. I then thanked her for living true to her standards and keeping her covenants at that party so long ago. She was truly a wonderful example and affected my life for good by staying true to who she was and what she believed.

Thirty years ago, as a branch president, I was interviewing a man and his wife. The wife was tearing down her husband: he had not been the provider she had expected; he had not been the companion she had dreamed about before her marriage; they could not communicate together without arguing and attacking one another.
Her husband loved her, and yet she hurt him. There were tears in his eyes as he absorbed the verbal abuse. I couldn’t take any more as a twenty-one-year-old branch president, and asked, “Why do you hurt this person who loves you the most? Why do you hurt a husband who would do anything to help you?”
Her answer startled me. “Oh, I guess we argue and injure those we love because we can hurt them the most.”
I have never forgotten that incident. There is truth in that example. We can’t hurt a stranger as much as we can a loved one. We know just what to do to hurt our companions, parents, or brothers and sisters. We know where they are vulnerable. We know how they can be hurt the most by our actions. To many it seems to be a test of faith in life to be wounded by those closest to us. Of Jesus it is said in Zechariah that when asked where he had received the wounds in his hands, he would say that he “was wounded in the house of [his] friends.” (Zech. 13:6.) Isn’t it true that God, our Father, and his Son grieve when we sin? When we fail to be obedient and accept the atoning sacrifice of our Lord, aren’t we hurting Him who loves us most?

As a young man preparing for my mission call, I understood that I would serve wherever I was called. Still, although I had not studied foreign languages in high school, I hoped that I would be called to Sweden where my Samuelson roots derive or to another country where I might learn a language. When I finally received my letter of call from President David O. McKay, who was the prophet of my youth and also in many ways the prophet of BYU-Hawaii, I was called to the North British Mission. Candidly, I was initially a little disappointed that I was going to serve in an English-speaking mission. At that time, I did not understand that "Utah English" is not the same as "Scottish English." Quickly, however, I realized that Scotland was part of that mission and was the homeland of my maternal grandfather. I also remembered that the then-young David O. McKay and my Grandfather Mitchell had served in Scotland together!

In the days before entering the Mission Home, as we called the MTC in those ancient times, I had the opportunity to read my grandfather's missionary journal and first became familiar with towns and cities where I myself served in the following two years. I also learned a great deal about my grandfather whom I had not really known since he died before my third birthday. As I read, he seemed to me to be a very remarkable man then and I'm even more impressed now that I am much older.

Did it take me very long to get over any disappointment? No! Was my assignment a mistake? Not at all! I didn't believe in coincidences then and I don't now. I also had the unique experience of seeing President McKay personally three times during my mission.

The first was while still in the Mission Home in Salt Lake City. I was able to introduce myself to the Prophet and tell him that I was Joseph Mitchell's grandson. He wrapped his arms around me and told me that my grandfather had taught him how to be a missionary. My grandfather was in his late 30s with an expectant wife and little boy when he was called on his mission and Elder McKay was closer to the usual missionary age. Nevertheless, they were not only missionary companions but became lifelong friends.

The second experience happened when I had been in Scotland for only a few weeks. Our group of missionaries was fairly small and President McKay spent an hour or two teaching us about missionary work. That was a day I'll never forget.

The third experience was when President McKay returned to Scotland in August of 1962 to organize the Glasgow Scotland Stake. I had been on my mission for 19 months but this was the first stake conference for me as a missionary because this was the first stake created in that country. Many interesting and spiritual things happened at that conference. One was an electric moment for me. While President McKay was speaking, he began to talk about his first mission of 65 years before. He then said something to the effect that all of his companions had now passed to the other side of the veil but he felt that some were in attendance at conference that day and of the three names he mentioned, Brother Mitchell, my grandfather, was one of them! (An account of this speech given 26 August 1962 can be found in the Church News a week or two later.)

Can you imagine the thrill I felt? Do you think that I would ever have wanted to serve in any other mission? Ever since, I have felt a close and special relationship with this grandfather who died when I was just a toddler. I have felt his influence and frequently reflect on his example, his goodness and my desire never to embarrass him. I have felt my heart turned to him and feel that I now understand better that his heart has also always been turned to me.

Through all of these experiences and some others, I also developed and have retained special feelings for President David O. McKay, the prophet of my youth just as President Gordon B. Hinckley is the prophet of your young adult years. You might now understand better my counsel that you gain all you can from the experience you recently had with him here on campus and that you learn all you can when you see him and listen to him. Through the miracles of technology, as well as when he personally visits, you can have special relationships with the Lord's prophet and he is speaking directly to you.

In June 1994, I learned a lesson that, I hope, will be forever engraved in my memory.
I had planned to climb with a coworker more than 1,200 meters up Spain’s Sierra de Alhamilla. From the top of this independent mountain range, we would each take off in our hang gliders. We planned to take advantage of bright blue skies and enjoy a marvelous flight over the Tabernas desert and the valleys of Pechina and Viator.
The night before our intended flight, my evening prayers were interrupted by a strong impression that I should not fly the following morning. I was surprised not only by the strength of this impression but also by its persistence. Though I had enough experience to know better—I was a member of the district council and was the district Young Men president—I foolishly ignored the prompting; I thought that perhaps the impression was a product of my imagination or my fear of a new experience. I decided that I would go ahead with the climb, but that I would cancel my flight if the weather conditions were not right.
The following day seemed perfect as my friend and I began our climb. I forgot about the impression I had received the night before and looked forward to my flight.
When we got to the top, we found that the wind was not blowing from the expected direction. As I assembled the glider, the wind changed again and began blowing from a different direction. I felt a great weight on my shoulders and questioned our decision to fly. Nevertheless, I felt some pressure to keep the promise I had made to my friend, and being stubborn, I decided to be the first one to take off.
As soon as I left the mountaintop, I knew I should not have done it. I dropped rapidly toward the trees right below my take-off point, my alarming descent announced by a constant beeping coming from a gauge I had with me. The tree tops, which at first had seemed far away, rushed toward me, getting bigger and bigger. Wind turbulence tossed the hang glider about like a leaf in the wind, and I lost control. Trapped in a narrowing canyon and unable to keep a flight path, I feared that I would crash into the mountainside and be killed. The wind was blowing in my ears, threatening me. It sounded as if it were saying, “You shouldn’t be here.”
Just at this terrifying moment, I remembered the impression from the night before. I realized it had been a warning, and I immediately repented of my disrespect for the concern the Lord had shown for my welfare. I prayed aloud, begging him to help me get out of the maelstrom that gripped me.
Suddenly, I seemed to gain a measure of control and saw a small clearing that I could use as a landing place. I was closing in to land when the wind hit me again. I fell 10 meters, the hang glider dropping fast toward the ground as if there weren’t any air. Just as I was about to hit the ground, the wing of my hang glider tipped up and I was able to land. When I pulled myself from the hang glider, I found I had a few cuts and the hang glider had two broken parts. And I had learned a lesson I will never forget.
I left the mountain feeling great gratitude toward the Lord for his tender care. In spite of my hardheadedness, he had preserved my life.
Some days later, I was preparing a program for a baptism when I was surprised to feel the Spirit bearing witness of the materials I was putting into the program. Among the items I had collected was a picture depicting Joseph Smith being visited by the Father and the Son. I noticed that below the picture was a caption: “I … called upon my servant Joseph Smith, Jun., and spake unto him from heaven, and gave him commandments” (D&C 1:17).
As the Spirit filled my heart, I felt forgiven for my lack of obedience. I rejoiced that the Spirit would once again communicate with me. And I promised myself that never again would I ignore any prompting the Lord was gracious enough to give me.

All of Moonta’s friends, even children much younger than he, knew how to skate. But for four long years there had been no ice except during a time when Moonta was ill and had to stay in bed. Moonta yearned for a chance to learn to skate as well as his champion parents, and finally a big freeze came. Moonta was out on the ice long before anyone else in the village of Wierum, at the edge of the North Sea. His eagerness and impatience to skate led Moonta into all kinds of exciting adventures.
Illustrations by Nancy Grossman give a genuine feeling of the Dutch atmosphere.
Meindert DeJong was winner of the 1954 Newbery Award for The Wheel on the School and of the Hans Christian Andersen Award in 1969 for Journey to Peppermint Street. Both of these excellent books are memorable, powerful stories about the Netherlands.

Maybe you feel like that just isn’t the type of person you are and that you can be excused from such counsel. Maybe you just aren’t the type who likes family history or maybe you just have never liked to read. Listen to a story about Eli H. Peirce, who was a member of the Church and was called on a mission even though he said, in effect, “I’m not really the missionary type.”

He was almost 50 years old [20] when he was called on a mission from the pulpit in general conference. Brother Pierce was not at all active in the Church when he received his call. He wasn’t present at the tabernacle, and he learned about the call when a friend sent him a telegram with the news. His personal history records that at that point in his life he purchased cigars 1,000 at a time. When he received the telegram at work, he records, “I was sitting lazily thrown back in an office rocking chair, my feet on the desk, reading a novel and simultaneously sucking an old Dutch pipe, of massive proportions, just to vary the monotony of cigar smoking.” [21]

Knowing the type of person he was and the type of life he was leading, it would be easy to conclude that calling him on a mission was a colossal waste of time. However, his personal history records his reaction to a call from a prophet. He records that as soon as he received the notice of his call that he threw both the novel and pipe away, resigned from his job at the railroad, and started into town to buy scriptures. Then he makes this amazing statement: “Remarkable as it may seem . . . a thought of disregarding the call or of refusing to comply never once entered my mind.” [22] When you heard the invitation from Elders Scott and Bednar and the pleading from President Monson, did you have the same determination? That is, could you say honestly that the “thought of disregarding the [invitation] or of refusing to comply never . . . entered [your] mind?”

Brother Pierce did serve the mission to which he was called. He served honorably, and he was involved in several miraculous events as a missionary. At the end of his history, looking back on his life, a life that included years of inactivity in the Church as well as years of faithful service, he observed, “Though my missions cost me more than a thousand dollars, besides more than double that in wages, I have never, for one moment, regretted the sacrifice. . .And now, after years have passed, I repeat, in words of soberness, that the happiest period of my life was spent in the Master’s service.” [23]

Clearly, Brother Pierce responded to a prophet’s invitation and his life was changed.

I went to an FSY conference at a hotel right after the pandemic restrictions ended. Many youth were visibly affected by the pandemic and dealing with spiritual and mental issues. It seemed we were facing one of the greatest spiritual battles I’ve ever lived through. I had never felt so devastated.
Early in the week when I entered the room we were staying in, some boys were talking and laughing about some things that negatively affected me. I thought, “This isn’t right.” I felt I should ask them to speak more quietly. However, when I tried to speak up, they mocked me and threw socks at me.
In that moment, I took a deep breath and asked myself, “What would the Savior do?” After reflecting, I picked up a sock that had been thrown at me, returned it, and said, “Look, this isn’t right. Please speak more quietly. Maybe let’s do something else.”
If someone else feels offended or bullied like I did, I would say, “Think celestial.” President Russell M. Nelson has invited us to be peacemakers. Being a peacemaker is essential, especially in difficult times.
This experience taught me about the importance of compassion and loving my neighbor. Tthat lesson will remain in my heart.

Illustrations by Cam Kendell
Hi, Mia. Want to play four square with us?
I don’t really feel like playing right now.
OK.
That night …
Sound label: Sniffle (coming from top bunk)
I don’t know why I feel so sad. Maybe a Primary song will help me feel better.
Heavenly Father, are you really there? And do you hear and answer every child’s prayer?
What’s wrong, Mia?
I was sad, but now I feel the Holy Ghost.
What does the Holy Ghost do?
He comforts us. That’s why He’s called the Comforter.
Mom, Dad, guess what? I felt the Holy Ghost! I was sad, and He comforted me.
I’m so glad! Come tell us about it.
The next day …
Hi, Mia. Are you feeling better?
Yes! Can I play with you today?
Yeah! Let’s go.
Thanks!
Thanks to Mia P. for sharing her story!

Last winter when it was too cold to go out to recess, our class went into the third grade classroom to watch a video. I was excited until I found out that the video was a cartoon that our family doesn’t watch. The characters call each other mean names and use bad language. I went to the teacher and told her that I didn’t want to watch the video. She said I could color quietly at the back of the room, instead. Then I whispered to my best friend, and she agreed to play ticktacktoe with me until recess was over. I felt good that I followed Jesus Christ by not watching that video.

One of the great examples of this idea of identity determining destiny was displayed at the 1997 NCAA Cross Country Championships.

The national meet was held on a Monday, meaning that Sunday was the last day of preparation prior to the race. As other teams scouted the course, took training runs, stretched, and strategized, the BYU women’s team attended church, hosted a fireside, and held a team testimony meeting. The Sabbath day was sacred, and they were not willing to compromise.

At their team meeting, one of the coaches read these prophetic words:

They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint. [Isaiah 40:31]

Caisa Monahan, a five-foot three-inch ­sophomore from Hawaii, read the team a less-sacred text—the children’s book The Little Engine That Could, pointing out that the Little Engine is the only train in the story that is blue.

At the racecourse the next day the team gathered in a circle, put their arms around each other, and prayed. On the tarp where they stored their bags, one of the team members had written, “We will win because we love each other, and because we love each other, we will do for each other what is too hard to do for ourselves.”

When 184 of the nation’s best cross-country runners were called to the starting line, seven of them were wearing Cougar Blue. The starter’s gun fired. Each girl did what was needed. Each trusted in herself, in her teammates, in her coaches, and in God. When four runners were in for each team, the Cougars trailed undefeated Stanford, but there was still a chance depending on the placement of the fifth runner from each school.

In the last hundred meters of the 5K race, Caisa Monahan was inadvertently knocked to the ground. Her teammate Emily Nay sprinted past her to finish as the Cougars’ fifth runner and lock in BYU’s score. Now the championship depended solely on where Stanford’s fifth runner placed.

Courageously, Caisa got back up and beat the Stanford girl to the finish line, displacing her by one spot to give BYU the victory by a score of 100 to 102. They became the first BYU women’s team to claim an NCAA title, winning by the narrowest margin of victory in national cross-country history.

How can the Lord and His Church help you on your educational path? One young man from Brazil learned they can help in remarkable ways.
College felt scary to Samad: “I didn’t feel like it was for me,” he says. “But my father encouraged me to try BYU–Pathway Worldwide. I was scared and didn’t believe in myself, but I decided to join.”
At first, Samad felt frustrated. “I felt I had not achieved anything,” he says. “I needed light and hope. BYU–Pathway became that hope for me.”
Samad began to gain confidence in himself and in Heavenly Father. “The more I learned each week, the better I felt” he says. “The service missionaries and instructors reminded me of my talents and abilities. The marvelous courses and stories of people who received blessings helped me open my heart and let the Lord change me for the better.”
Samad’s hopelessness and fear of the future washed away with each new term. “I want to share this experience with others who are facing the same fears and anxieties I felt,” he says. “There’s hope in Jesus Christ. He can help you in your education. I took the first step, and I’ll never regret it.”