Gospel Story Finder

Bishop Prince Mensah graciously shared his remarkable journey with the young single adults in a Sunday meeting. He began by telling the classroom about his experiences as the first young high councilor in the Ashaiman Ghana Stake. This period, though undoubtedly challenging, became a transformative chapter in his life.
Reflecting on the early days of his marriage, he recounted the financial constraints they faced as a young couple. “I remember when my wife was pregnant with our first child; sometimes, she had to make do with banku paired with ground pepper, a few tomatoes, and occasionally, small fishes we affectionately called Keta school boys. Despite these hardships, she selflessly sacrificed to support me in fulfilling my calling.” Bishop Mensah recalled.
Eight months into their marriage, Bishop Mensah received the call to serve as a high councilor, which made it necessary to travel frequently from Adjei Kojo Kanewu to Kpone, (23 kilometers) for his assignments. With a monthly salary of GH390, he juggled the responsibilities of overseeing the young single adults, committee meetings, stake ushers, and various other duties. Traveling to Kpone and chartering a taxi to reach the meeting house added to the financial strain.
In recounting his service, he emphasized the invaluable lessons learned during this time. He proudly shared how he assisted President Alexandar Boateng in tasks such as packing seminary and institute books and marking attendance. Little did he know that these seemingly mundane responsibilities were preparing him for future opportunities.
As the interview for his current job position unfolded, Bishop Mensah found unexpected ease. Three out of the four panelists knew him personally. Despite lacking a formal degree, the panelists, having witnessed his unwavering dedication and hard work, recognized his potential. He secured the position, and this turning point marked a significant change in his and his family’s life.
What initially appeared as a sacrifice revealed itself as divine preparation for more promising opportunities. Through the assignments entrusted to him by his stake president, Isaac Morrison, (then stake president of the Ashaiman stake and currently a General Authority Seventy) and President Alexander Boateng (then first councilor and program administrator for Accra coordinating area seminary and institute, recently called as a mission leader to the Ghana Kumasi Mission), his service not only impacted his personal growth but also became a steppingstone to a brighter future. Bishop Mensah’s story serves as a testament to the transformative power of dedication, service, and divine guidance. It is good for the young single adults and for all of us to remember this.

“I had a similar experience once when I was visiting my friend after Sunday School one day. Around noon her father proceeded to make plans to take the family and me out to lunch. The family members were all active in the Church, but the father wasn’t. I politely refused, saying that I might not be back in time for my next meeting. He assured me that we would be back in time. Then I told him that the Lord has asked us to keep the Sabbath day holy, and I explained that I strive to keep this commandment. He really seemed interested and accepted my answer. Instead of going out we had lunch at home. Just tell your parents that you will not displease the Lord and that you could make a much nicer dinner at home so the family could be alone together.”

When Neil was older, he wanted to serve a mission. But he was a little worried. “How can I serve a mission when I know so little?” he prayed.
He felt the answer in his heart. “You don’t know everything, but you know enough.”
That answer gave Neil courage. He obeyed and served a mission in France. Before he left, he went to the temple. There he made special promises, called covenants, with Heavenly Father. He was blessed for going to the temple.

Luis bounced up and down in the back seat and sang a silly song. “Please settle down, Luis,” Dad said. “I need to focus on driving.”
“I can’t settle down,” Luis said. “It’s just so awesome!”
Dad smiled. “I’m glad you’re excited to meet your new baby brother.”
When they got to the hospital, Luis raced to Mom’s room. He knew where it was because Mom had been there for five days already. She had to stay at the hospital because Baby Ian was sick, and Mom was a little bit sick too. Luis had asked to see Ian at least a bajillion times, but Mom always said, “Not yet.” She said that the doctors would decide when Ian was strong enough for a visitor.
Today the doctor had called. Today was the day!
When Luis walked into Mom’s hospital room, she was already holding Ian. Luis ran over to see his new baby brother. Ian was tiny. He looked way smaller than Luis’s baby cousins. And there was something different about his nose and ears. He looked like a little elf!
“Hi, honey,” Mom said. “Come wash your hands, and then you can hold the baby.”
Luis washed his hands with special soap. He climbed onto the hospital bed next to Mom. She leaned over to hand him the baby. Dad helped Luis put his hands in just the right place.
Luis looked down at Ian. “Hi, Ian,” he said. “I’m your brother, Luis. You’re going to sleep in my room, and I can show you all my toys, and we can play at the park.”
Baby Ian looked right at Luis. Luis thought he was the best baby ever.
When Luis’s arms got tired, Dad took a turn holding Ian. Mom held one of Luis’s hands and looked into his eyes.
“Luis,” she said. “Do you remember in Primary when you learned about the plan of salvation?”
Luis nodded. That had been a good day. Sister Lopez had a moon and a star and a big planet earth on sticks. Luis got to hold the sun.
“Do you remember how we lived in heaven before we came to earth and how we are going back to heaven when we die?”
Luis nodded again.
“Baby Ian is still very sick. And the doctor says that he won’t live very long. He is going to die soon and go back to heaven.”
Luis looked at Mom. He looked at Baby Ian in Dad’s arms. Then he frowned. His throat felt tight. “But I love him. I want him to stay here and share my room and play with me. Doesn’t he want to stay too?”
Mom put her arms around Luis. “Of course he wants to be with us. We’re his family. But he will see us again.”
“He will?”
Mom nodded. “Dad and I were married in the temple. We were promised that our family could be together forever. You and Ian will always be our children.”
“That means that Baby Ian will always be your brother,” Dad explained. “And you’ll see him again in heaven.”
Luis was sad. He felt kind of mad too. But he thought about meeting Baby Ian in heaven and smiled just a little. He reached out and rubbed Baby Ian’s soft hair. “We’ll be brothers in heaven? That’s awesome.”
Mom kissed Luis’s cheek. “It is awesome.”

My sister had to give an important talk in seminary. She spent two hours working on it on the computer. Then she started working on something else on the computer. When she went back to print out the talk, it had been deleted from the computer. This happened at 10:00 P.M., and I was in bed asleep. She and Mom woke up my older brother and asked for his help. They even called Dad, who was in North Carolina for the week. Neither my brother nor Dad could help get the talk back. They all went to bed upset and discouraged.
In the morning, Mom told me about the talk being deleted. I asked, “Did you pray about it?” Mom said that they hadn’t done that. When I went upstairs to get ready for school, a part of a scripture, Moroni 10:4, came to my mind: “… if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ. …” I thought, Well, I think I have a sincere heart, and I really want my sister to have her talk back, and I have faith in Christ. So I decided to pray as the scripture told me.
When I came home from school, Mom met me at the door and told me that when she got on the computer to work on her Scout committee records, the talk came up on the screen. She printed it out immediately for my sister, who did a good job when she gave the talk. We all learned from that experience how important it is to have faith and to pray and ask Heavenly Father in the name of Jesus Christ for all the things that we need help with.

It was a cold winter day in February when I knocked on Sister Chandler’s door. “Hello,” I called, opening the door a little in case she couldn’t hear me. “Are you sleeping?”
Sister Chandler moved slowly from her kitchen to answer the door. She was small and bent, and walked with a slight limp. Her long cotton dress was stained, as always, from carrying coal to her pot-bellied stove, which demanded constant attention to keep her small home warm. Her white hair, also coal stained, framed a face tired from seventy-nine years of troubles. But it was also a serene face, because as long as she had enough coal to keep her house warm during the winter and a little food she had everything she needed to be happy.
I remembered how I had stared in disbelief when I first learned that she lived on a meager $59 a month. There were only two rooms in the house. The first room contained the temperamental stove, a double bed, a worn-out couch, and a set of broken dresser drawers. The other room, the kitchen, had a small cook-stove, a table and two chairs, and a side shelf for pots and pans and the storage of a little food. When we first met her she had no running water and no bathroom.
During the years my husband had served as her home teacher, we had visited her often. When we visited in the evening the house would invariably be dark. The one bare light globe would turn on when we knocked and turn off immediately when we began to drive away.
Sister Chandler had joined the Church as a new bride—her husband was already a member—and she recalled the days when there was no branch or stake. Their only contact with the Church was an occasional traveling missionary or two. But she had always remained faithful and once told how her testimony had sustained her through the deaths of her two daughters during the influenza epidemic of 1918.
In the few short months I had been Relief Society president I had never heard her complain about her circumstances nor ask for any help from the Church. But we helped her with food when her money ran out, and near the end of the month, a week or so before her Social Security check came, I always tried to visit her to see how she was doing.
Now Sister Chandler’s eyes were sparkling because she had a visitor. “Come in!” she said. “I was just having lunch.” She was shy; she always spoke just above a whisper.
“Please don’t let me stop you. I’ll just talk with you while you eat,” I said.
I took her gently by the elbow and we began to walk slowly toward the kitchen. As we passed the bureau she stopped to get something out of the top drawer. I looked quickly at her lunch. It consisted of a little flour and water that had been made into a kind of white gruel, nothing more.
“Sister Chandler, is that all you have in the house to eat?”
“Yes, that’s all, but it doesn’t matter. My check will be here in a day or two. Please, will you take this to the bishop?” She thrust a wrinkled tithing envelope into my hand. “I didn’t have home teachers this month and I can’t go to church myself anymore. It’s my tithing. Please take it to him.”
I stood staring at the gray envelope. Everything inside of me wanted to cry out, “No, no. The Lord doesn’t expect you to pay tithing!” But one small voice deep inside whispered, “Don’t deny this soul the blessings.”
I struggled not to cry as I quickly said good-bye and ran to the car to arrange for some groceries for her.
Sister Chandler is gone now, but I will always remember the great lesson she taught me about sacrifice and devotion—it was easier for her to go hungry than to neglect her obligations to the Lord.

It doesn’t sound like something that would lure youth to Mutual, but cleaning the meetinghouse every week is what they’ve been asked to do, and the youth keep coming.
When the bishop first asked the youth in the Bloomfield Hills First Ward to clean the stake center, they didn’t exactly shout with joy. Who wants to finish off each activity night by scrubbing the building? There are more exciting ways to end Mutual activities, like shooting hoops or just chatting with friends.
But after the youth had cleaned the building for several weeks, they realized it wasn’t as bad as they thought it would be. And after a few more weeks, they even began to enjoy it. Now they say cleaning the church has changed the way they feel about the building and about themselves.
Three years ago, the First Presidency requested that ward members take more responsibility for cleaning Church meetinghouses. They recommended that the youth take on the responsibility as part of their weekly activities. The Bloomfield Hills youth knew this meant them.
“It cuts costs so we can provide more money for missionary work and temples,” says Rob Montierth, a priest who helps clean the building each week. “But it also teaches us responsibility and to respect the house of the Lord.”
Rob’s words echo the promise the First Presidency gave in a letter sent to bishops and stake presidents in the United States and Canada when they requested that youth clean the buildings. “From this service, young people can deepen their reverence and feelings of respect for the house of the Lord.”
Christina Wirthlin, a Laurel, says taking the call from the prophet seriously and cleaning each week makes her feel personally responsible for the cleanliness of the building. “It just makes me look out for things more. When I see papers on the floor and when I see things that need to be put away, I feel more responsibility to do those things. Before, I would just look past it because I figured someone else would do it.”
The Bloomfield Hills stake center isn’t a small building. The task of cleaning it seems a bit overwhelming. There are windows to polish, carpets to vacuum, hymnbooks to straighten, floors to mop, chalkboards to dust, a courtyard to sweep and weed—the list goes on and on. But the youth are not only willing to clean; they’re anxious to get started.
It’s almost like a tornado has hit the inside of the stake center. But unlike other tornadoes, this whirlwind of activity puts things in place.
The storm of activity is intense for about 15 minutes as the sound of vacuums squealing adds to the chorus of a squeaky wheel on the mop bucket and the rhythmic sweeping from the brooms in the courtyard. People are wiping down cabinets in the kitchen, making sure there are hymnbooks at every bench, pushing mops across the gym floor, and pulling tiny weeds out of the cracks in the courtyard cement.
Then, just as quickly as the cleaning supplies came out of the closet, the activity settles, and Mutual is over. When the youth leave, the stake center is spotless. Everything is in its place, and the building is ready to welcome them on Sunday morning.
As people file into the meetinghouse on Sunday morning, everything is in its place. And if something is out of line, or there’s a scrap of paper on the floor, you don’t have to tell the youth to take care of it; it has become instinct.
“I think that since we’ve been cleaning the building, I notice more when it’s clean,” says Diana Parker, a Mia Maid. “And I think the fact that the youth clean it makes a big difference because it’s something we can do to help invite the Spirit into the building.”
All the youth agree that it’s easier to feel the Spirit in a clean place. “When the building is clean, it just makes a better feeling, and the Spirit is stronger,” says Christina. “The Spirit is more willing to come in when it’s clean.”
Cleaning the building in preparation for Sunday has taught the youth respect for the building, but they have also learned that the building isn’t the only thing that needs Sunday preparation.
Just as the building needs to be cleaned, so do the people attending church, says Kay Smith, a Laurel. “We don’t just come to church in regular clothes; we come in Sunday clothes.”
Rob says that, as well as cleaning up our appearances, we have to do some deep cleaning. “We clean up our thoughts and our minds so that when we come to church we can have more of a spiritual experience.”
Although the meetinghouse only takes a short time to clean each week, the youth have learned an important principle from doing it—respect.
“There are places in the world where they don’t even have ward buildings,” says Laura Hansen, a Mia Maid. “We are so blessed to have this building, and I think we should feel some responsibility, even if a janitor did what we do, because it is the house of the Lord.”
Just like the building, the youth know that their appearance can be a reflection of what they value and can influence how they behave. And they know that it’s more than just coming with a clean appearance to church; they also try to come spiritually clean. Cleaning the stake center has helped teach them this lesson. That’s why, when it’s time to get ready for church, they are eager to come clean.

This tenderness of heart allowed Brother Quasie to be touched by the Spirit when he first heard about the Church. In 1986, when he was 16 years old, the Church was new in the Cape Coast area. One night, a friend invited him to see a movie in the town open market. It was a movie about Joseph Smith’s First Vision and the Book of Mormon. After watching the movie, he felt that it was true and wanted to learn more but wasn’t sure how to get more information. Then he met Elder and Sister Nelson from the United States. They taught him the gospel by having Anthony proselyte with them and after a week, they asked him if would like to be baptized. “I decided to be baptized without consulting my parents, who were Catholic. I took that decision independently”, he said.
In those days, baptisms in Cape Coast were done in the ocean. On 30 April 1986, Brother Quasie was baptized on the same beach that the first Ghanaian members had been baptized a few years earlier.

One night my parents and maternal grandparents came to visit for family home evening. Each of my three children loves to participate, and on this night it was my seven-year-old son’s turn to give the lesson. We had prepared a small display, put up pictures about the Creation, and studied and reviewed what he would teach. My son was ready and excited.

During the lesson, we all listened attentively to what my son was explaining. When he finished, Samuel, who was about three, decided that he too wanted to give a lesson. So he took the pictures and the display and set them up again on the table.

In his soft voice and with his sometimes poorly pronounced words, Samuel gave us a family home evening lesson. And even though he hadn’t prepared, he had listened. He explained to us how the earth was created and told us of the love that Jesus Christ has for each of us.

We were astonished to see how easily he taught the lesson—doing so just like his brother had. My parents and grandparents were surprised and happy. We could all see the love these little children have for the gospel—and the love Jesus Christ has for them.

Lizbeth Sánchez Fajardo, Mexico

A moment in time from my own family history exemplifies a commitment to care for those in need. Many have heard of the Willie and Martin handcart companies and how these faithful pioneers suffered and died as they endured winter cold and debilitating conditions during their trek west. Robert Taylor Burton, one of my great-great-grandfathers, was one of those whom Brigham Young asked to ride out and rescue those dear, desperate Saints.
Of this time Grandfather wrote in his journal: “Snow deep [and] very cold. … So cold that [we] could not move. … Thermometer 11 degrees below zero [-24°C] … ; so cold the people could not travel.”
Life-saving supplies were distributed to the stranded Saints, but “in spite of all [the rescuers] could do many were laid to rest by the wayside.”
As the rescued Saints were traversing a portion of the trail through Echo Canyon, several wagons pulled off to assist in the arrival of a baby girl. Robert noticed the young mother did not have enough clothing to keep her newborn infant warm. In spite of the freezing temperatures, he “took off his own homespun shirt and gave it to the mother to [wrap] the baby.” The child was given the name Echo—Echo Squires—as a remembrance of the place and circumstances of her birth.
In later years Robert was called to the Presiding Bishopric of the Church, where he served for more than three decades. At age 86 Robert Taylor Burton fell ill. He gathered his family to his bedside to give them his final blessing. Among his last words was this simple but very profound counsel: “Be kind to the poor.”

I’m going to share an experience I had with President Kimball to help you understand what a choice human being he is, besides a powerful prophet, and perhaps base the rest of my remarks on this incident. I stood alone in the basement of the Church Office Building about two years ago, waiting for an elevator. It was very early on a Monday morning, well before the influx of office workers. As the elevator lowered into place, suddenly two Church security officers appeared from out of somewhere and held back the opening doors. Now, nobody does that for me, so I looked around just in time to see President Kimball and his personal secretary, Brother Haycock, entering the area. They moved quickly into the secured area, and I quickly moved out of the way. Well, as President Kimball turned and faced the front of the elevator, he saw me standing out there waiting for the next one. And he said to me very graciously, “Good morning.” And I said, “Good morning, President Kimball.” And he said, “Aren’t you going to get on?” And I said, “Well,” and hesitated for a few moments, “I didn’t think I was supposed to under the circumstances.” And then he said, “Aren’t you going up?” And I said, “Yes.” And he said, “Well, tell me, how do you intend to get there?” And then he said, “Come along.” So I got on! At the prophet’s invitation I was happy to ride up with him.

Tonight President Kimball extends an invitation to all of us, with some specifics, I am sure, for us as women to follow him as he follows the Savior. If we want to “go up,” we must “get on.” It is that simple. He is our leader; in all the world of would-be leaders, who can guide us back to the presence of God.

Several months ago, a stake president and I visited a sister in his stake and her young adult son. After years away from the Church, wandering difficult and unfriendly paths, she had returned. During our visit, we asked her why she had come back.
“I had made a mess of my life,” she said, “and I knew where I needed to be.”
I then asked her what she had learned in her journey.
With some emotion, she shared that she had learned that she needed to attend church long enough to break the habit of not coming and that she needed to stay until it was where she wanted to be. Her return was not easy, but as she exercised faith in the Father’s plan, she felt the Spirit return.
And then she added, “I have learned for myself that God is good and that His ways are better than mine.”

I was 16 years old then. I had a girlfriend I loved very much, but she left me. That was hard for me. I suffered a lot for almost a year. Because of that experience, I wanted to understand where I came from, why I was on earth, what the purpose of life is, and what happens after death. I wanted to find the answer to these questions on my own. But after thinking about them a long time, I turned to God again and said to myself, “The Creator of life knows life better than I do. I should find answers from Him.”
Reading the Bible, I learned that Jesus called twelve Apostles. “If God had a church today,” I thought, “it should have Apostles.” I became more and more attracted to religion, and I wanted to be baptized.
When I talked about God with my father, he told me that God is just. He said either you are baptized to be saved, or you are damned to hell forever. I didn’t want to believe that a loving Father in Heaven would take pleasure in sending His children to hell forever just because they hadn’t been baptized. What about those who didn’t have a chance to be baptized?
In France, there are few believers. I had friends who were nice, but they weren’t baptized. I concluded that it was not right to think they would all go to hell.
So, I decided to form my own beliefs. I believed in a God whose love is perfect and who would do everything in His power to save His children. If His children don’t want to receive His glory, that would be up to them. But He would give them a chance.
One day two full-time missionaries who were working in my village felt prompted to take a detour to go home. On their way home, they met my mother. She stopped them and made an appointment for me to meet them. I wasn’t happy about that. I didn’t want to talk to them. I thought they would say, “You must listen to us. You must believe what we are going to tell you.”
When the missionaries arrived for our meeting, I told them, “Don’t waste your time. I have my own beliefs. What you are doing is good, but I believe that family is very important. I believe that church leaders should be married. I believe that a church should have twelve Apostles. I believe that God will save as many of His children as He can. And I don’t believe in smoking and drinking.”
I was surprised to learn that their teachings matched my beliefs. They gave me a Book of Mormon and asked me to pray about it. I felt the Spirit when I read the book, and I felt the Spirit with the missionaries. But I thought, “Maybe I’m just creating these positive feelings.”
I prayed and got an answer in a dream. In my dream, I opened the Bible. Inside the Bible were tabs with the different books of the Bible. The last tab said “Mormon.” This message helped me understand that the Bible and the Book of Mormon contained the same gospel (see Ezekiel 37:15–19).
My testimony was further strengthened through other experiences reading and studying the Book of Mormon. When the missionaries invited me to be baptized, I accepted with joy. I was baptized exactly one year after my girlfriend left me. My baptism marked a big change in my life. I lost some friends when I joined the Church, but I found new ones in the branch I attended.
“The gospel brought me a lot of light and happiness,” says Nicolas. “God blessed me. I met a good woman, and we have three good daughters.”
The gospel brought me a lot of light and happiness. I was filled with the Spirit and with joy. I thought, “All that I have suffered before has brought me here.”
God blessed me. I met a good woman, and we have three good daughters. Two of them have served missions, helping others understand what I came to understand years ago: “The family is central to the Creator’s plan for the eternal destiny of His children,” “the dead who repent will be redeemed, through obedience to the ordinances of the house of God” (Doctrine and Covenants 138:58), and the Lord calls apostles and prophets in our day to lead His Church (see Ephesians 2:20).

When I returned home from my mission, my grandmother was dying of cancer. She wanted to know what would happen after this life, so I taught her the gospel. She didn’t join the Church, but I had faith that the testimony I shared with her about Heavenly Father’s love for her and about life after death would have an impact on her in the next life.
After she passed away, my family went to the temple for her. I know that because of the work we did for her in the temple, she and my grandfather can be together forever—and I can be with them! The differences that we had can be resolved by knowing the truth and having the gospel be a part of our lives.

Many years ago in one of the courtrooms of Utah, a divorce case was called for a hearing. One of the participating attorneys, indignant and incensed, took the witness stand to bring before the court the fact that just the night before, the husband and the wife had reconciled their differences. He urged that because of the reconciliation, his adversary was unprincipled, unfair, and unethical in now coming into court.

The judge turned to the other attorney and asked him if he were going to take the witness stand to refute the allegations against his character. The defamed attorney, a wise and experienced counselor, said: “Oh, no, your honor. I’m not going to take the witness stand. He might be able to prove all those allegations against me.” The courtroom broke into laughter, the tension was broken, and things quickly were put into proper place.

Once I prayed and prayed for a nice school teacher for the new year. After many months of praying, I was put in my new class, and my new teacher is so nice and happy and teaches with love. I said a thank-you prayer to Heavenly Father for answering my prayers and for taking care of me and my worries. I am so happy that we can pray to Heavenly Father about anything, anywhere, and He’ll help us.
Ava C., age 7, Utah, USA

In 1907 a wealthy Englishman named George Herbert, the fifth Earl of Carnarvon, moved to Egypt and took up an interest in archaeology. He approached a well-known Egyptologist, Howard Carter, and proposed a partnership. Carter would oversee their archaeological excavations, and Carnarvon would provide the funding.
Together they successfully explored a variety of locations. Then they received permission to excavate in the Valley of the Kings, located near modern-day Luxor, where the tombs of many pharaohs had been found. They decided to look for the tomb of King Tutankhamun. Tutankhamun had ascended to the throne of Egypt more than 3,000 years earlier and reigned for 10 years before his unexpected death. He was known to have been buried in the Valley of the Kings, but the location of his tomb was unknown.
Carter and Carnarvon spent five years unsuccessfully searching for Tutankhamun’s tomb. Eventually Carnarvon informed Carter that he was finished with the fruitless quest. Carter pleaded for just one more season of excavation, and Carnarvon relented and agreed to the funding.
Carter realized that the entire floor of the Valley of the Kings had been methodically excavated—except the area of their own base camp. Within a few days of digging there, they found the first steps leading down to the tomb.
When Carter eventually peered into the antechamber of Tutankhamun’s tomb, he saw gold everywhere. After three months of cataloging the contents of the antechamber, they opened the sealed burial chamber in February 1923—100 years ago. This was the most famous archaeological find of the 20th century.
During those years of ineffectual searching, Carter and Carnarvon had overlooked what was literally under their feet. Some five centuries before the Savior’s birth, the Book of Mormon prophet Jacob referred to taking for granted or undervaluing what is nearby as “looking beyond the mark.” Jacob foresaw that the people of Jerusalem would not recognize the promised Messiah when He came. Jacob prophesied that they would be a “people [who] despised the words of plainness … and [would seek] for things that they could not understand. Wherefore, because of their blindness, which blindness [would come] by looking beyond the mark, they must needs fall.” In other words, they would stumble.
Like those people in Jerusalem, and like Carter and Carnarvon, we too can be prone to look beyond the mark. We need to guard against this tendency lest we miss Jesus Christ in our lives and fail to recognize the many blessings He offers us. We need Him. We are counseled to rely “wholly upon the merits of him who is mighty to save.”
After Carter and Carnarvon excavated elsewhere in the Valley of the Kings looking for Tutankhamun’s tomb, they realized their oversight. We do not need to labor unsuccessfully, as they did for a time, to find our treasure. Nor need we seek counsel from exotic sources, prizing the novelty of the source and thinking such counsel will be more enlightened than that which we can receive from a humble prophet of God.

Years ago, one of our colleagues shared this tender experience with us. His young daughter, Kim, had just learned to count. In fact, she could count all the way from one to ten. They were so excited they called Grandma. “Hi, Grandma. Do you want to hear me count?” Then she began to count, “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.” Perhaps the Savior smiled and was pleased that Kim could count from one to ten.

Later, my wife gave birth to our first child, a son. This was a major turning point for us. How lonely I felt as I watched my son being blessed, unable to speak or participate in that special ordinance. I also felt that his birth added a big financial burden and that this angered me. I became bitter, accusing God of adding more trials to my life than I could bear. I withdrew totally from the Church and the light of the gospel.
The next several years were total misery. As more children came, they were blessed by their grandfather. Refusing to let this hurt so much any longer, I became numb inside. Gone were the yearnings to rejoin the Church—or so I said. Gradually I slipped into more sin, each time in effect crying louder to the Lord and to my family, “See! I don’t need the Church!” The louder I yelled, the more I knew inside that I was wrong. In public I gloried in the disgrace and the hurt I was inflicting on my family, hoping this would justify me and stop my feelings of guilt. Throughout the entire experience I knew in my heart the truth. Perhaps that’s why I fought so hard. The more guilty I felt, the more deeply involved I became in sinful acts. Always I was trying to show the world that I was in charge of my life. I didn’t need anyone else.
Eventually, completely worn down from the internal conflicts, my wife had no choice but to leave me. This made me happy, I thought—freedom at last! The next two weeks were the loneliest of my life. I had no other true friends, and I would not seek comfort at my parents’ home.
Finally I was able to acknowledge that my family meant more to me than anything else. I yearned for my wife to come back. Though many problems remained, we agreed to reunite. I began removing myself from sinful associations and situations. But I still had no real desire to rejoin the Church—this desire came only gradually.
When my first daughter was born, I realized that I must make a decision. With three children I knew that I could no longer go on living for just today; I had to make a choice and live by it. For months my soul was in conflict. I wanted to choose the right, but I also wanted to be sure that my choice was not based on ulterior motives. I felt I couldn’t return just to make my wife, children, and parents happy. I knew that real happiness for all of us would come only if I actually regained a testimony of my own.
After much prayer and study and struggle, I began to feel a small spark inside me that brought with it memories of earlier spiritual experiences that I could no longer deny. The feeling slowly grew. And finally I felt that the Lord still loved me, even though I had been excommunicated. There was hope! I felt I was moving again!
However, knowing I was on the right path didn’t make anything easier. In fact, for a while, the harder I worked the worse things got. I struggled with great tests and hardships. It seemed that when a blessing was near, my life would start to come apart again and I would start to feel despair once more.
But I held on, and, true to his promise, Heavenly Father poured out a blessing. After much effort and great help and support from friends and leaders in the Church, I was able to reenter the waters of baptism. What joy I felt!
But the tests did not stop there. For the next year and a half I worked hard to prepare myself to receive the priesthood. My desire for restitution had returned in full. I was glad to be a member once again, but I longed for full fellowship. My struggle finally ended when I received a call from a General Authority asking me to bring my family and meet with him. With great anticipation, fears, and joy, my family and I drove to that memorable meeting. The children were excited because they were going to see an apostle of the Lord. I was thrilled at the thought of being able to bless the child my wife was expecting.
After a thorough and loving interview, this kind man of God asked my wife to join us, and then he placed his hands on my head and made me a whole man. He “restored me wholly as I was before with all the rights and powers of the priesthood.” My wife and I wept.
Then the Apostle turned to my wife and asked her if she would like a blessing. After she said yes, he turned to me and told me that the only way I would know that my priesthood was restored would be for me to use it. He asked me to bless my wife and offered to stand with me. During the next few minutes, I learned more about the priesthood than I could ever have learned from reading volumes of books.
The battle is not over. Some of my most severe challenges have raised their heads since that day, and many more will come, but I now can call upon the Holy Ghost to guide me.
I have been able to bless my second daughter and have exercised my priesthood in many other ways. My wife and I are now preparing for one of the most important days of our lives—the day we take our children dressed in white into the holy room of the temple to be sealed for time and all eternity.
My greatest regret is that I rejected these blessings years ago; the price I have paid to regain them has been a terrible one. I am so grateful to be back, but oh! how much wiser I would have been never to have strayed.

At 8:00 A.M. on my 18th birthday, my mother and stepfather asked me to leave their home, and I joined the Church one week later. I moved in with the Bulleigh family and used the $9,000 I had saved by working between the ages of 16 and 18 to support myself until I graduated from high school seven months later. I read the entire Book of Mormon after being baptized and learned of a prophet named Alma who had also persecuted the Church of God. He spent the rest of his life preaching the gospel to amend for his past transgressions. I decided also to serve a mission.