Gospel Story Finder

Susan: “By the time Church policy had changed to allow worthy women who have nonmember husbands to attend the temple, I had been a member for six years—long enough to know how eternally significant the covenants are, and also long enough to know the difficulties in keeping those covenants.

“Time passed, and I was still making excuses. Then a friend asked, ‘Susan, when are you going to the temple?’ Something within me responded positively to that question. Soon some of my close friends and I went to the temple, where I received my endowment.

“One of the reasons I had hesitated about the temple was that I feared that my increased knowledge and commitment would widen the gap between my husband and me. But as I prayed about it, I came to feel that following the counsel of the Lord and his prophets—in short, practicing obedience—could only help me become a better Latter-day Saint and, therefore, a better person, a better spouse.

“The hard part is to remember that the covenants I’ve made in the temple are mine, not my husband’s. I try not to expect him to live according to covenants he has not made.”

I’d like to tell you of an experience of a faithful Latter-day Saint who is a good friend of mine. I’ll refer to him only as “my friend” for reasons you will understand.
Working as a special agent for the FBI, my friend investigated organized crime groups transporting illegal drugs into the United States.
On one occasion he and another agent approached an apartment where they believed a known drug dealer was distributing cocaine. My friend describes what happened:
“We knocked on the door of the drug dealer. The suspect opened the door and, upon seeing us, tried to block our view. But it was too late; we could see the cocaine on his table.
“A man and a woman who were at the table immediately began removing the cocaine. We had to prevent them from destroying the evidence, so I quickly pushed the drug suspect who was blocking the door to the side. As I pushed him, my eyes met his. Strangely, he did not appear angry or afraid. He was smiling at me.
“His eyes and disarming smile gave me the impression that he was harmless, so I quickly left him and started to move toward the table. The suspect was now behind me. At that instant, I had the distinct, powerful impression come into my mind: ‘Beware of the evil behind the smiling eyes.’
“I immediately turned back toward the suspect. His hand was in his large front pocket. Instinctively I grabbed his hand and pulled it from his pocket. Only then did I see, clutched in his hand, the semiautomatic pistol ready to fire. A flurry of activity followed, and I disarmed the man.”
Later, in another case, the drug dealer was convicted of murder and boasted that he would have also killed my friend had he not turned around at that very moment.

Hi! My name is Blessy!
I live in India with my family. I got to plan a special Christmas activity for my school and share the gospel with my friends!
Young Missionaries
My Primary leaders teach that we should be missionaries. Sometimes I invite my friends to church. Most of the time, they say no. I thought that maybe I was too young to be a missionary.
A Family Challenge
Then, at family home evening, Dad challenged our family to invite one person to church every month. I wanted to do it, but it was tough! I asked Dad for help. He said I could pray. So I did.
The Idea
The next day at school, the principal asked for ideas for a school Christmas activity. I had a great idea! I told her that all the Primary-age kids could come visit my church. She called my parents, and they talked to the bishop to plan the activity. Our Primary leaders and the missionaries helped too.
An Exciting Day
Soon the day arrived. I felt nervous and excited at the same time. When Dad took me to school, I saw everyone was there and ready to go. Almost 500 students and teachers came!
Together at Church
At the church we watched a video about Jesus Christ’s birth. The young adults and missionaries sang Christmas songs. The bishop and my dad gave talks about how Jesus loves children and about loving one another. I gave a talk about Christmas. Everyone had a great time! My principal and my teacher even asked the missionaries questions.

When Lexie’s grandmother visited the Humanitarian Center in Salt Lake City, Utah, last year, she learned about the poor conditions for newborn babies in many parts of the world. “Grandma told me that babies were being brought home wrapped in newspapers, and I just thought, ‘What can I do?’” Lexie explains.
She set a goal to make them baby quilts. First, her grandma taught her how to use the sewing machine. Then they purchased batting and flannel decorated with pastel flowers, checked patterns, and bright smiley faces for babies to snuggle up in.
Lexie made her first quilt for her mom. She also gave one to her seven-year-old sister, Lillyn. Lillyn helped Lexie by tying the quilts—using a needle to sew yarn in neat rows across the whole blanket. Then she snipped between the stitches and tied knots so little puffs of yarn would stick up from the fabric. Lillyn had one problem with her task. “Sometimes when I poke a needle through the blanket, I poke myself!” she exclaims.
Lillyn helped in other ways, too. She went with Lexie, their grandma, and a cousin to deliver the blankets to the Humanitarian Center. There Lexie dropped the quilts into a big gray bin filled with blankets and quilts donated by other people. The Humanitarian Center sends these donated items to people in more than 100 countries.
Was reaching her goal worth so much time and work? “Yes,” Lexie insists, nodding quickly. “I know that I’m helping someone, and I feel very good about that.”

When my husband was serving his mission in Switzerland, he and his companion felt like they should walk down a road they hadn’t tried before and saw a lady sitting on a bench. They didn’t know yet, but she had been baptised when she was around 20 years old and had left the church not long after. A few years later she had a son, who was now 9 years old. While she was waiting for him to come out of school that day she had started thinking about the church. She remembered the missionaries and the songs she used to sing. She looked up the church and found a video about missionaries on her phone and was watching that video when she looked up and saw two missionaries were standing there. She realised an unspoken prayer had been answered.

Youth all over the world are drawn to temples. In Lima, Peru, I met a father and three of his daughters outside the entrance of the temple. I saw the light in their faces. Two of the daughters were severely disabled and sitting in wheelchairs. The third daughter, while attending to her sisters’ needs, explained she had two more sisters at home. They too were in wheelchairs. They were unable to travel the 14 hours to the temple. The temple meant so much to this father and his daughters that four of them had come to the temple that day—two of them simply to observe the one who could be baptized for the dead and perform that sacred ordinance. Like Nephi, they “[delighted] in the covenants of the Lord.”

Some years ago, while visiting the members and missionaries in Australia, I witnessed a sublime example depicting how a treasury of testimony can bless and sanctify a home. The mission president, Horace D. Ensign, and I were traveling by plane the long distance from Sydney to Darwin, where I was to break ground for our first chapel in that city. En route we had a scheduled fueling stop at a remote mining community named Mt. Isaiah As we entered the small airport, a woman and her two young children approached. She said, “I am Judith Louden, a member of the Church, and these are my children. We thought you might be on this flight, so we have come to visit with you during your brief stopover.” She explained that her husband was not a member of the Church and that she and the children were indeed the only members in the entire area. We shared experiences and bore testimony.
Time passed. As we prepared to reboard, Sister Louden looked so forlorn, so alone. She pleaded, “You can’t go yet; I have so missed the Church.” Suddenly, over the loudspeaker there was announced a 30-minute mechanical delay of our flight. Sister Louden whispered, “My prayer has been answered.” She then asked how she might influence her husband to show an interest in the gospel. We counseled her to include him in their home Primary lesson each week and be to him a living testimony of the gospel. I mentioned we would send to her a subscription to the Children’s Friend and additional helps for her family teaching. We urged that she never give up on her husband.
We departed Mt. Isa, a city to which I have never returned. I shall, however, always hold dear in memory that sweet mother and those precious children extending a tear-filled expression and a fond wave of gratitude and good-bye.
Several years later, while speaking at a priesthood leadership meeting in Brisbane, Australia, I emphasized the significance of gospel scholarship in the home and the importance of living the gospel and being examples of the truth. I shared with the men assembled the account of Sister Louden and the impact her faith and determination had had on me. As I concluded, I said, “I suppose I’ll never know if Sister Louden’s husband ever joined the Church, but he couldn’t have found a better model to follow than his wife.”
One of the leaders raised his hand, then stood and declared, “Brother Monson, I am Richard Louden. The woman of whom you speak is my wife. The children [his voice quavered] are our children. We are a forever family now, thanks in part to the persistence and the patience of my dear wife. She did it all.” Not a word was spoken. The silence was broken only by sniffles and marked by the sight of tears.

It was in March of 1845 that Thoreau decided to move out on the banks of Walden Pond and spend two years trying to figure out what life was all about. He settled on a piece of property owned by his good friend Ralph Waldo Emerson. He purchased an old shanty from a railroad worker, and tore it down. From the lumber from the shanty and the lumber from the woods, he constructed his own cabin. He kept meticulous financial records, and he concluded that for a home and freedom he spent a mere $28.12. He planted a garden, where he sowed peas, potatoes, corn, beans, and turnips to help sustain his simple life. He planted two and a half acres of beans with the intent of using the small profit to cover his needs. Small profit indeed: $8.71.
Thoreau lived quite independent of time. He had neither a clock nor a calendar in his little cabin. He spent his time writing and studying the beauties and wonder of nature that surrounded him, including local plants, birds, and animals. He did not live the life of a hermit—he visited the town of Concord most days, and he invited others to come into his cabin for enlightening conversations. When the two years ended, he left his cabin behind without regret. He considered the time he had spent there a proper amount of time to accomplish his purpose—to experience the spiritual benefits of a simplified lifestyle. He also felt he had other life experiences ahead of him. It was time to move on and explore other opportunities.
From his experiences at Walden Pond, Thoreau determined that there were only four things that a man really needed: food, clothing, shelter, and fuel. I would like to expand on each of these four basic needs of life, as well as the spiritual benefits of a simplified lifestyle.

At the top of Mr. Gellért, high above the magnificent city of Budapest, Hungary, two sister missionaries search for a secluded spot in a grove of trees where they can be alone and unobserved.
They open their scriptures and bring out a typewritten copy of a prayer—the apostolic blessing, newly translated into the Hungarian language, that Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve pronounced on Hungary in April 1987. It was here on Mt. Gellért—overlooking the Danube River, with the hills of Buda on one side and the plains of Pest on the other—that Elder Nelson originally gave this prayer, asking the Lord to pour out his blessings upon the nation and its people. Now, kneeling reverently among the trees, the sisters quietly review the prayer aloud in their own tongue. Overhead, a warm breeze gently stirs the leaves, and the bright sun shines in a cloudless sky. For a few moments, the sisters are enveloped in a spirit of warmth and peace.

There is a silver-haired Argentine sister who knows the Shepherd. She has given a long life of service to the Lord, his Church, and her fellowmen.
The first time Sister Mellor attended a Mormon church service, she was brought by the missionaries. They felt that she was the most sophisticated, cultured, and best-educated investigator they had ever met. They held a few meetings in her lovely home, and when they invited her to accompany them to a Sunday Church meeting, she readily agreed. The service was being held in an old building. The members attending were of somewhat humble circumstances compared to the new investigator.
The service did not go well by the standards of the two missionaries hoping to impress their guest. The branch leaders had just been recently called, and they were still learning their duties. There was some confusion at the pulpit. There was an interruption at the sacrament table at the most sacred moment. The sermons seemed to be less interesting than those desired by the eager missionaries. The reverence was threatened from time to time by children moving or crying. There was no organ to provide deep, religious sounds. The missionaries agonizingly thought of the negative impressions their elegant investigator must be receiving. They knew she normally worshiped in a very fashionable cathedral where everything would have been highly professional and the congregation would have been of the highest stratum of local society.
On the way home, one of the missionaries began to reflect his embarrassment. He explained: “Please excuse our present building. Some day we will build a lovely new chapel here.” Then he added: “Please excuse our new leaders. We have a lay priesthood, so we take turns conducting, and the new leaders are still learning how to conduct services.” He was just about to give another excuse when Sister Herta Mellor turned to him and said somewhat sternly: “Elder, don’t you apologize! It must have been like this at the time of Christ!”
With her spiritual eyes and her knowledge of the Shepherd acquired through studying the holy scriptures, she saw through centuries of tradition. She saw past cathedrals and organs. She saw back through the corridors of time to the Shepherd meeting with his humble fishermen-Apostles, with some sinners, and even with leper outcasts. She saw the early Saints meeting in a small, rented, upstairs room. She saw children, with the Savior smiling at them lovingly. Because she knew the Shepherd, she could say with profound and deep insight, “It must have been like this at the time of Christ.”
She exemplifies to me the admonition which many have followed: “Fill your mind with thoughts of Christ, your heart with love of Christ, and your life with service to Christ.” Today there stands a lovely chapel, presided over by a well-trained lay bishopric, where Sister Mellor first attended church about thirty years ago.

President James E. Faust, Second Counselor in the First Presidency: “My grandparents have had a great influence on my life. Even though they have been dead for many years, I still feel their confirming love. One grandfather, James Akerley Faust, died before I was born. I knew him only through the stories my grandmother and my parents told about him. However, I feel a strong kinship with him because I am in part what he was. Among other things, he was a cowboy, a rancher, and a postmaster in a small town in central Utah. On one occasion Grandfather took a trip in the winter to Idaho, where he met an acquaintance who had fallen on hard times. It was cold, and Grandfather’s friend had no coat. Grandfather took off his coat and gave it to him.
“This evening I encourage you … to begin to unlock the knowledge of who you really are by learning more about your forebears.”

I was invited to attend the Strengthening Families Conference 2023, at Abuja, Nigeria by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When I got the invitation, I was both skeptical and apprehensive. What has the Anglican Church got to do with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, let along attend their conference for three days? The one who invited me encouraged, persuaded, and pleaded with me to attend.
I finally attended with one eye closed and the other opened: very apprehensive and nervous.
I must confess that I was parochial in my thinking and outlook. The introductory address knocked me down as scales fell off my eyes to see and reason well with respect to my own marriage. It was evidently clear from the conference that marital issues do not have denominational and religious colors. The principles for a good marriage are almost the same in all places.
Interestingly, the chairman for the conference was a Muslim, with speakers from various religious and denominational backgrounds and professions.
Like the confession of the Queen of Sheba when she visited King Solomon, “I believed not the words, until I came, and mine eyes had seen it: and, behold, the half was not told me” (1 Kings 10:7). It was my confession, too!
I thank God for the opportunity I had to be part of the 2023 Strengthening Families Conference. I recommend the program to one and all.

Red Squirrel had started on her strange mission at dawn. Spring had come and tiny leaves were unfurling like tattered banners, but the air was misty and cold.
The river carried her canoe along swiftly. Now she only used the paddle to steer her fragile craft away from boulders, but it would take two days of hard paddling to return against the strong current. She watched carefully for logs or other hazards ahead. If the canoe overturned, she could not long survive in the icy water, fed by melting snow high in faraway mountains.
Can I find the lonely grave site again? She wondered. Will the wooden cross still be standing to mark it? The Indian girl sighed deeply and rested the paddle across her lap, pondering whether her quest would bring happiness or more sorrow to the white man and woman waiting at her village.
Running Elk, a scout for the army, had brought the couple to see Chief Standing Bear. Their son and his friend had started west almost two years ago. Except for a letter from Kansas, where the two young men had joined a wagon train, they had never heard from them again. The father felt that both of them must have died on their journey, but the mother had stubbornly refused to abandon hope.
A recent letter from a physician in Oregon had renewed the couple’s hope and their fears. The doctor was treating a young man who suffered from amnesia and had no memory of his past. However, the patient carried some papers containing two names. One was a letter addressed to their son, Benjamin Allen. The other was to his friend, Zeb White.
Dr. Barkow’s description of his patient did not help. Both young men were tall and had blue eyes and dark curly hair. Members of the wagon train had disbanded and settled over a wide area before the patient had been brought to the doctor. From the meager information he had gathered, one of a pair of young men on the train had drowned in a flash flood. A carpenter among the group had carved the victim’s name on a wooden cross the party had placed on the grave. If they could find the lonely grave, the couple would know if the doctor’s patient were their son or his friend.
The tribe had gathered and listened as Running Elk translated the white man’s story. The location of the grave was said to be near Tracy’s Ford on the Oregon Trail and downriver from their village. Had one of Chief Standing Bear’s people seen the cross?
Red Squirrel was very shy. She did not want to step forward, although she had seen the grave last fall while gathering nuts. No one else moved. She looked at the sad faces of the youth’s parents and could not remain silent. Hesitantly, eyes downcast, she stepped out of the group of women and children.
“I have seen the place,” she told her chief. “The marker still stood last fall, at one end of a grave covered with a pile of stones. I can find it again.”
The gray-haired couple was filled with dismay when Chief Standing Bear said that the slim young girl would go alone at dawn and return in a few days. They had expected to go along, possibly with a few braves to guide them. The chief sensed their disappointment, but he was tactful enough not to tell them that white people were too clumsy for their bark canoes, especially in the flooding spring current. He considered the girl capable of going alone. True, she could not read, but she was a basket and rug weaver, who carried many beautiful designs in her head. She would remember and be able to draw the lines carved on the grave marker that only the distraught parents could read. The chief arose and entered his tepee, ending the talk.
Now that she was close to her destination, Red Squirrel watched the boulders strewn along the riverbank. When she saw a round one split down the middle like a ripe melon, she expertly used her paddle for a rudder, and the canoe whipped through the cleft rock into still water. It would soon be dark, so the Indian girl used bent twigs and pine boughs to erect a wickiup for shelter. Then she built a cooking fire. She would search out the grave tomorrow.
Early the next morning Red Squirrel’s heart hammered with dread as she approached the mound of stones and stared at the tilted cross. She wished the carved letters could speak to her so she would know if she would carry good news or bad news back to the village. The heavy responsibility overwhelmed Red Squirrel. She did not want to bring more sorrow to the elderly couple. Carefully she went over the letters again and again, making certain she remembered all the strange lines.
A glint of gold at the base of the cross caught her eye. It was a locket with a broken chain. This would be another clue as to which man was buried here, but she worried about taking something from a grave! Reluctantly, she removed her beautiful turquoise necklace and hung it on the cross. Her father had spent many hours polishing and drilling the stones, and she was very proud of it. Leaving it was a great sacrifice, but it made her feel better about taking away the gold one.
When the boys shouted that Red Squirrel had returned, the people gathered near the river to greet her. She was drenched and trembling from cold and fatigue. However, she had fought a fierce two-day battle against the strong waters and won. Red Squirrel’s mother wrapped a blanket around her daughter and tried to lead her away to change into dry clothing, but she refused. Her news—good or bad—must be delivered first. Mrs. Allen almost wept when she looked at the exhausted girl.
Red Squirrel picked up a stick. Then she walked away from the group and smoothed out a place in the soft dirt. Mrs. Allen, her face ashen with mixed hope and dread, started to follow. Gently, her husband drew her back. This girl, who could neither read nor write, was an important key to the knowledge of their son’s fate. Their watching her draw the unfamiliar lines might make her nervous.
When she had finished the drawing, Red Squirrel stood, waiting. She forgot how cold and miserable she was as the troubled parents approached. Her eyes misted at the way they clung together for support. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and turned away, not wanting to watch them.
Red Squirrel jerked as if she had been struck when the mother suddenly cried out and began to weep. She turned and then whispered a prayer of gratitude when she saw that the woman’s tears were of joy and relief!
“Zeb White! It’s poor Zeb who lies there, not our Ben,” the father murmured. His voice broke from the emotion and strain.
“This necklace had hung on the marker, until the chain broke,” Red Squirrel said. “I left mine in exchange.”
The woman took the necklace and pressed a catch and the locket sprang open to reveal tiny pictures of a man and woman. “Zeb’s parents,” the woman whispered. “Oh, how my heart goes out to them. We’ll send them the locket.”
“Yes,” Mr. Allen agreed softly, wiping his eyes. “Now we’re going to Oregon and get our son and take him home!”
Mrs. Allen went to see Red Squirrel before she and her husband left the village with Running Elk the next morning. She knew that the girl would not accept payment for her help. A gold lapel watch, a gift from her husband on their thirtieth wedding anniversary, was the most treasured piece of jewelry she owned. It opened like the locket, and opposite the watch face was Ben’s baby picture and a curled whisp of his hair.
The mother felt no regret as she pressed the watch into the hand of Red Squirrel’s mother to give to her daughter. The gift Red Squirrel had given them was beyond value.
Their son still lived!

When farmers’ crops fail, it may mean difficult times, but for 47 members of the Church in Mexico a poor harvest also blocked their dreams of going to the Los Angeles Temple. When the seminary students from the La Canada First and Second Wards (La Crescenta California Stake) found out about the postponed trip, they sold cheese, sponsored movies, put on dinners, took inventories for department stores, and held their own fair to raise $3,500 to help the Mexican Saints.

The eight families from Mexico and two bus drivers then rode three days after waiting weeks for visas. Most of the men, farmers and laborers, had seen their area’s crops fail and had canceled their plans to visit the temple this year. The La Canada young people had decided there could be no more worthwhile project than helping the Mexican Saints go to the temple.

The California Saints were ready with a large “Bienvenidos” (welcome) sign when the group arrived, and they greeted their guests with many abrazos (hugs). Everyone moved from the parking lot to the chapel and sang, “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet” and “Come, Come Ye Saints” in both Spanish and English. The Mexican members from Tezontepec and Conejos were welcomed by La Crescenta California Stake President Don L. Rogers and introduced to their host families.

The next day began with a chapel service after which the Mexican Saints went through a Spanish-speaking endowment session. In the afternoon they attended a sealing session. While the adults were in the temple, six of the young people who had traveled with the group and several La Canada seminary students performed baptisms for the dead. Another group of seminary youth served as baby-sitters in the nursery for the day.

After a day at the temple, the La Canada church members held a fiesta in honor of their guests. The cultural hall was decorated in red, green, and white, Mexico’s national colors, and the visitors were served some of their own national specialties—enchiladas, beans, rice, hot chiles, and fruit salad. The Mexican Saints were all introduced, and an informal program was staged by the hosting wards.

The next day was Saturday, and the La Canada youths were excited to show their guests some Southern California sights. The Mexican children especially loved the Mickey Mouse Parade at Disneyland.

The following day Mexican Branch President Tomás Gracia spoke at stake conference, expressing his love for those who had given so much to make the trip possible for his branch members. A fireside that evening gave everyone the opportunity to get better acquainted. The Saints from Mexico sang and answered questions as well as shared testimonies.

The next morning was a sad farewell as the visitors sang to their new American friends. The busload of strengthened Saints left with renewed determination to share their experiences in Mexico. For the seminary students of the La Canada wards it was hard to say goodbye, but knowing that the months of hard work had gone to help enrich and uplift others made the experience one of deep, quiet happiness.

My life was pretty normal until the winter of 2020. I was sick with what we thought was an infection, so I took a round of prescribed antibiotics. Later, I started feeling headachy, tired, and faint. Soon afterward I woke up around 10 p.m. thinking it was morning and started getting ready for school.
When my sister told me it was still nighttime, I ran to my parents’ room in a state of hysteria. My mom felt my head, and I had an extremely high fever. We went to the doctor the next day, who ran a bunch of tests.
That night my parents came into my room, crying. They told me I had leukemia and that we had to go to a hospital to get more answers. I was in the emergency room all night and started my chemotherapy treatment only a few days later.
My treatment will continue for another year or two, but it has gotten a little more manageable. I have been feeling a bit better recently and hope to be able to go to school again soon. It isn’t easy, though. The chemo has many side effects, including a bone condition called avascular necrosis that makes it difficult for me to walk.
In spite of it all—maybe even because of it—I have grown so much closer to my Heavenly Father. Now I have a deeper understanding of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. I used to think of His Atonement as something you needed only when you made a mistake. That’s part of it, but relying on the Savior is also something that has helped me feel less alone.
Jesus Christ has taken upon Himself all of our afflictions and sins, which means He knows exactly how to help me as I experience leukemia. Going through any trial can feel very isolating, but through Christ’s Atonement, we can take comfort in knowing that He truly understands what we’re going through.
Ruby H., Utah, USA

When I was called as a General Authority by President Russell M. Nelson, I was flooded with emotions. It was overwhelming. My wife, Julie, and I anxiously awaited the Saturday afternoon session of general conference. It was humbling to be sustained. I carefully counted the steps to my designated seat so as not to fall in my first assignment.

At the conclusion of that session, something happened that had a profound effect on me. The quorum members formed a line and greeted the new General Authorities one by one. Each one shared their love and support. With a hearty abrazo they said, “Don’t worry—you belong.”

In our relationship with the Savior, He looks on the heart and is “no respecter of persons.” Consider how He chose His Apostles. He didn’t pay attention to status or wealth. He invites us to follow Him, and I believe He reassures us that we belong with Him.

This message especially applies to the youth of the Church. I see in you what President Nelson sees in you. He said that “there is something undeniably special about this generation of youth. Your Heavenly Father must have great confidence in you to send you to earth at this time. You were born for greatness!”

I am grateful for what I learn from the youth. I am grateful for what my children teach me, for what our missionaries teach me, and for what my nieces and nephews teach me.

Not too long ago, I was working on our farm with my nephew Nash. He is six and has a pure heart. He is my favorite nephew named Nash, and I believe I am his favorite uncle speaking in conference today.

As he helped me come up with a solution for our project, I said, “Nash, that is a great idea. How did you get so smart?” He looked at me with an expression in his eyes that said, “Uncle Ryan, how do you not know the answer to this question?”

He simply shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and confidently said, “Jesus.”

Nash reminded me that day of this simple and yet profound teaching. The answer to the simplest questions and to the most complex problems is always the same. The answer is Jesus Christ. Every solution is found in Him.

In the Gospel of John, the Savior said to His disciples that He would prepare a place for them. Thomas was confused and said to the Savior:
“Lord, we know not whither thou goest; and how can we know the way?
“Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.”
The Savior taught His disciples that He is “the way, the truth, and the life.” He is the answer to the question of how to come unto Heavenly Father. Gaining a testimony of His divine role in our lives was something I learned as a young man.

While I was serving as a missionary in Argentina, President Howard W. Hunter invited us to do something that had a profound effect on my life. He said, “We must know Christ better than we know him; we must remember him more often than we remember him; we must serve him more valiantly than we serve him.”

At that time, I had been concerned with how to be a better missionary. This was the answer: to know Christ, to remember Him, and to serve Him. Missionaries throughout the world are united in this purpose: to “invite others to come unto Christ by helping them receive the restored gospel through faith in [Him] and His Atonement” and through “repentance, baptism, receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost, and enduring to the end.” To our friends who are listening to the missionaries, I add my invitation to come unto Christ. Together we will strive to know Him, remember Him, and serve Him.

Serving a mission was a sacred time of my life. In my last interview with him as a full-time missionary, President Blair Pincock spoke of the upcoming change in mission leaders, as he and his wife were also nearing the completion of their service. We were both sad to be leaving something we loved so much. He could see that I was troubled by the thought of not being a full-time missionary. He was a man of great faith and lovingly taught me as he had for the previous two years. He pointed to the picture of Jesus Christ above his desk and said, “Elder Olsen, it is all going to be OK because it is His work.” I felt reassured knowing that the Savior will help us, not just while we are serving but always—if we will let Him.

Sister Pincock taught us from the depths of her heart in the simplest Spanish phrases. When she said, “Jesucristo vive,” I knew it was true and that He lived. When she said, “Elderes y hermanas, les amo,” I knew that she loved us and wanted us to follow the Savior always.

My wife and I were recently blessed to serve as mission leaders to labor with the outstanding missionaries in Uruguay. I would say that these were the best missionaries in the world, and I trust that every mission leader feels that way. These disciples taught us every day about following the Savior.

During regular interviews one of our great sister missionaries walked into the office. She was a successful missionary, an excellent trainer, and a dedicated leader. She was looked up to by her companions and loved by the people. She was obedient, humble, and confident. Our previous visits focused on her area and the people she was teaching. This visit was different. As I asked her how she was doing, I could tell she was troubled. She said, “President Olsen, I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I will ever be good enough. I don’t know if I can be the missionary that the Lord needs me to be.”

She was a remarkable missionary. Excellent in every way. A mission president’s dream. I had never worried about her abilities as a missionary.

As I listened to her, I struggled to know what to say. I silently prayed: “Heavenly Father, this is an outstanding missionary. She is Yours. She is doing everything right. I don’t want to mess this up. Please help me know what to say.”

The words came to me. I said, “Hermana, I am so sorry you are feeling this way. Let me ask you a question. If you had a friend you were teaching who felt this way, what would you say?”

She looked at me and smiled. With that unmistakable missionary spirit and conviction, she said, “President, that is easy. I would tell her that the Savior knows her perfectly. I would tell her that He lives. He loves you. You are good enough, and you’ve got this!”

With a little chuckle she said, “I guess if that applies to our friends, then it also applies to me.”

In my own family there is a story of a young woman who had the courage to start to teach doctrine when she was only a new convert with little education. And the fact that the effects of her teaching haven’t ended gives me patience to wait for the fruits of my own efforts.
Mary Bommeli was my great-grandmother. I never met her. Her granddaughter heard her tell her story and wrote it down.
Mary was born in 1830. The missionaries taught her family in Switzerland when she was 24. She was still living at home, weaving and selling cloth to help support her family on their small farm. When the family heard the doctrine of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, they knew it was true. They were baptized. Mary’s brothers were called on missions, going without purse or scrip. The rest of the family sold their possessions to go to America to gather with the Saints.
There was not enough money for all to go. Mary volunteered to stay behind because she felt she could earn enough from her weaving to support herself and save for her passage. She found her way to Berlin and to the home of a woman who hired her to weave cloth for the family’s clothing. She lived in a servant’s room and set up her loom in the living area of the home.
It was against the law then to teach the doctrine of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Berlin. But Mary could not keep the good news to herself. The woman of the house and her friends would gather around the loom to hear the Swiss girl teach. She talked about the appearance of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ to Joseph Smith, of the visitation of angels, and of the Book of Mormon. When she came to the accounts of Alma, she taught the doctrine of the Resurrection.
That caused some problems with her weaving. In those days many children died very young. The women around the loom had lost children in death, some of them several children. When Mary taught the truth that little children were heirs of the celestial kingdom and that those women might again be with them and with the Savior and our Heavenly Father, tears rolled down the faces of the women. Mary cried too. All those tears falling got the cloth wet that Mary had woven.
Mary’s teaching created a more serious problem. Even though Mary begged the women not to talk about what she told them, they did. They shared the joyous doctrine with their friends. So one night there was a knock at the door. It was the police. They took Mary off to jail. On the way she asked the policeman for the name of the judge she was to appear before the next morning. She asked if he had a family. She asked if he was a good father and a good husband. The policeman smiled as he described the judge as a man of the world.
At the jail Mary asked for a pencil and some paper. She wrote a letter to the judge. She wrote about the Resurrection of Jesus Christ as described in the Book of Mormon, about the spirit world, and about how long the judge would have to think and to consider his life before facing the final judgment. She wrote that she knew he had much to repent of which would break his family’s heart and bring him great sorrow. She wrote through the night. In the morning she asked the policeman to take her letter to the judge. He did.
Later, the policeman was summoned by the judge to his office. The letter Mary had written was irrefutable evidence that she was teaching the gospel and so breaking the law. Nevertheless, it wasn’t long until the policeman came back to Mary’s cell. He told her that all charges were dismissed and that she was free to go, on the conditions she had stated in her letter. Her teaching the doctrine of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ had opened eyes and hearts enough to get her cast into jail. And her declaring the doctrine of repentance to the judge got her cast out of jail. (See Theresa Snow Hill, Life and Times of Henry Eyring and Mary Bommeli [1997], 15–22.)

During my tour aboard the USS West Virginia, a call came for an officer who spoke Portuguese to go on a three-week exchange with the Brazilian Navy. I was the only one in the submarine force who spoke Portuguese.
My initial feeling was not to go. I had just finished a three-month patrol and was looking forward to seeing my family, but the exchange would not leave my mind. I turned to Heavenly Father in prayer, received a strong answer that I should go, and accepted the assignment.
The arrangements proved fraught with hurdles. At one point I felt like giving up. I thought, “How important could this be?” The Holy Ghost, however, prompted me to push ahead.
Illustration by Allen Garns
Finally, after several delays, I arrived on a Brazilian ship. When I was escorted to the officers’ dining room, the ship’s captain was yelling and pointing his finger at a young officer. The captain saw me, stopped, and said in broken English, “Ah, my American friend has arrived. Welcome. May I offer you something to drink?”
I responded in Portuguese that I would love a popular Brazilian soft drink I hadn’t tasted since my mission. He told me the ship had all kinds of liquor on board, but I stated I did not drink alcohol.
Later a knock came at my cabin. When I opened the door, there stood the young officer from the dining room.
“You are an American,” he said. “You do not drink alcohol. You speak Portuguese. Could it be that you are a Mormon?”
“Yes, I am,” I responded.
He threw his arms around me and broke down sobbing.
This officer, Lt. Mendes, was a fairly new convert and a recent graduate of the Brazilian Naval Academy. On board the ship, he quickly learned that the captain expected him to share in the wild lifestyle of the officers when visiting ports. Instead, Lt. Mendes constantly volunteered for “in-port duty” and otherwise skipped port-of-call activities. The captain grew weary of this. When I entered the dining hall, he was yelling at Lt. Mendes for not joining in.
“You will go out with the officers during our next port of call,” he had ordered the lieutenant. “You will show the visiting American officer what it is like to have a good time. He will expect that of us.”
For months, Lt. Mendes had been praying that his captain would understand and accept his principles. With my arrival, discussion of the gospel became the center of most conversations in the dining room. We talked with the other officers about Joseph Smith, the Restoration, the Word of Wisdom, and the law of chastity. Feelings toward Lt. Mendes soon changed. The officers removed the openly displayed pornography, and at the next port we all enjoyed a meal together at a restaurant instead of going to a club.
Near the end of my three weeks onboard, and after many discussions with the captain and officers about our beliefs, the men softened their hearts. “Now I understand,” the captain told Lt. Mendes before I left, adding that he would no longer ask him to go against his principles.
I will never forget this experience. Lt. Mendes and I learned that our Father in Heaven knows us individually, loves us, and is concerned with our personal lives.

President Hinckley, in a satellite broadcast last February, shared the story of a woman who became a member last year. She wrote:
“‘My journey into the Church was unique and quite challenging. This past year has been the hardest year that I have ever lived in my life. It has also been the most rewarding. As a new member, I continue to be challenged every day.’
“She goes on to say that when she joined the Church she did not feel support from the leadership in her ward. Her bishop seemed indifferent to her as a new member. Rebuffed, as she felt, she turned back to her mission president, who opened opportunities for her.
“She states that ‘Church members don’t know what it is like to be a new member of the Church. Therefore, it’s almost impossible for them to know how to support us’” (“Find the Lambs, Feed the Sheep,” Ensign, May 1999, 108).

Several years ago a husband and wife, both active members of the Church, came to me professionally with very serious marital problems. Both said, “How could this be happening to us? We have a temple marriage. We have kept the commandments. We pay our tithing, keep the Word of Wisdom, attend the temple regularly, and serve the Lord faithfully in our Church callings. It just isn’t fair! Why aren’t we blessed with a happy marriage?”
I opened the Doctrine and Covenants and had them read verses twenty and twenty-one of Section 130.
“There is a law, irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of this world, upon which all blessings are predicated—
“And when we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated.”
I told them that they had been blessed for keeping the laws they had obeyed but that the Lord could not bless them with a happy marriage unless they kept the laws that apply to happy marriages.
“For example,” I said, “you say you keep the law of tithing.”
“Actually,” the husband replied, “we probably pay a little extra.”
“Good. And do you receive the blessings associated with that law?”
“Yes, we have been richly blessed concerning that law.”
“You say you keep the Word of Wisdom?”
“Exactly.”
“And do you receive the blessings promised to those who are obedient to that law?”
“Yes. The Lord has blessed us each with health and enough energy to do the many things we have to do.”
“In exactly the same way, the Lord will bless you with a happy marriage if you keep the laws that govern happiness in marriage,” I told them.
They inquired what those might be, and I referred them to section 121 of Doctrine and Covenants. There the Lord provides instruction in the exercise of righteous leadership (see D&C 121:34–46) and to chapter twelve of Romans [Rom. 12] where Paul outlines the laws governing unity in any unit of the Church.
They candidly acknowledged that despite the guidance offered in Doctrine and Covenants 121, they did not in fact exercise their joint leadership responsibilities “only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned; By kindness, and pure knowledge … without hypocrisy and without guile.” (D&C 121:42.) Rather, they engaged in constant power struggles over who was right and who was wrong and used all kinds of strategies to “win” in the family arena.
They admitted that contrary to Paul’s counsel in Romans 12 their expectations of each other were all too “conformed to this world” (Rom. 12:2); that each was given to thinking of himself and his own opinions “more highly than he ought to think” (Rom. 12:3); that there was insufficient positive appreciation for the ways they were different (Rom. 12:4–6); that there was a shortage in their home of mercy, cheerfulness, love, and kindly affection, “preferring one another” (Rom. 12:8–10). They acknowledged that they had not always rejoiced when their partner rejoiced or wept when he or she wept (Rom. 12:15), that they were often not “of the same mind one toward another” (Rom. 12:16), and that they did not strive as much as they possibly could to “live peaceably” with each other (Rom. 12:18). Finally, they confessed that they had never mastered the rule to “avenge not yourselves” instead of giving “place unto wrath” (Rom. 12:19), or to “be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good” (Rom. 12:21).
In short, I told them, they were in some ways in the situation of those who “pay tithes of mint and anise and cumin, and have omitted the weightier matters of the law, judgment, mercy, and faith: these ought [they] to have done, and not [left] the other undone.” (Matt. 23:23.)
To answer your questions directly, then, you need to know that you can be assured of a rewarding, enduring heaven-bound marriage if you obey the laws that govern this part of life. They are among the highest and most challenging laws in all of the gospel; no other reward is so great as that promised by the Lord to those who keep them.
“For strait is the gate, and narrow the way that leadeth unto the exaltation and continuation of the lives, and few there be that find it, … But if ye receive me in the world, then shall ye know me, and where I am ye shall be also.” (D&C 132:22–23.)