Gospel Story Finder

A young man once came to Socrates and said, “Mr. Socrates, I have come sixteen hundred miles to talk to you about wisdom and learning.” He said, “You are a man of wisdom and learning and I would like to be a man of wisdom and learning. Would you teach me how to be a man of wisdom and learning?”

Socrates said, “Come, follow me.” And he led the way down to the seashore.

Then they waded out into the water up to their waists. Then Socrates seized his friend and held his head under the water. His friend struggled and kicked and bucked and tried to get away but Socrates held him down. Now if you hold somebody’s head under the water long enough he will eventually become fairly peaceable, and when this man had quit kicking, Socrates carried him out on the bank and laid him out to dry, and he went back to the marketplace.

After this man had thawed out a little bit he came back to Socrates to find the reason for this rather unusual behavior, and Socrates said to him, “When your head was under the water, what was the one thing you wanted more than anything else?”

And he said, “More than anything else I wanted air.”

Then Socrates said, “When you want wisdom and learning like you wanted air, you won’t need to ask anybody to give it to you.”

Each Dominican youth has a cherished conversion story to tell. “I was invited to a church activity with some friends,” says Pedro Rodriguez, “and was really impressed. I began reading the scriptures on my own, and I knew I wanted to be a missionary and share what those books contained with everyone else. I was baptized soon after that, and I’m waiting my year before I can serve. I never knew I could feel so much.”

1856–1938
“Sister Nachie always prays [with thankfulness] for … her new-found faith.”
She lived in Japan. She helped care for the first missionaries there.
Soon she asked to be baptized.
She was the first woman from Japan to go to the temple in Laie, Hawaii. She also became the first temple worker from Japan.
She helped teach the gospel to other Japanese people living in Hawaii.
Alma O. Taylor, as quoted by Ardis Parshall in Women of Faith in the Latter Days, vol. 3, 1846–1870 (2014), 122–30.

Years ago, following a mission tour, my wife, Jeanene, told me about an elder she had met. Jeanene had asked him about his family. She was surprised as he responded that he had no family. He further explained that at his birth, his mother had given him to the government to raise. He spent his childhood going from one foster home to another. He was blessed as a teenager to find the gospel. A loving ward family had helped him to have the opportunity to serve a mission.

Later Jeanene asked the mission president’s wife about this fine elder. She learned that a few months earlier this elder had been in the mission home for a few days due to an illness. During that time he had joined them for a family home evening. Before he left to go back into the field, he asked the mission president if he could spend two or three days at the end of his mission in the mission home again. He wanted to observe how a Christ-centered family functions. He wanted to be able to pattern his family after theirs.

Once we had finished visiting the facilities, Madame Amaru regretted leaving us, as she had to attend a meeting “with a young man from your church who is going on a mission”.
It was in fact a vigil during which the future missionary was to open his call letter. We asked her if it’s a member of her family. “No!” she replied. “But I go wherever I’m invited.”
“Then we’ll be delighted to accompany you!”
When we arrived, we found a branch filled with love for this young future missionary who had lost his mother a year earlier. What’s more, he’s the first missionary from this branch . . . in 40 years!
The branch president asked to the mayor and her husband to address a word. They both gave “parent” advice, encouraging him to be obedient and respectful, to remain humble, and especially not to stay there (Salt Lake City Mission) after the mission.
Before we left, we learned that this couple, who are very close to the people of their community, had recently attended the dedication of the meetinghouse. What’s more, during the seven-month construction period, they welcomed the entire branch into their home (not the municipality’s premises, but their own) for Sunday meetings!
It was with hearts overflowing with love and gratitude for such generous and humble people that we set sail again to leave them.
Unquestionably, we declare that our Heavenly Father watches over His children tenderly, that He sent us to Tahaa to serve them, and that the Church is the means by which this might be done.

For a long time, something else puzzled me. Forty-six years ago I was a 37-year-old seminary supervisor. My Church calling was as an assistant teacher in a class in the Lindon Ward.
To my great surprise, I was called to meet with President David O. McKay. He took both of my hands in his and called me to be one of the General Authorities, an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
A few days later, I came to Salt Lake City to meet with the First Presidency to be set apart as one of the General Authorities of the Church. This was the first time I had met with the First Presidency—President David O. McKay and his counselors, President Hugh B. Brown and President Henry D. Moyle.
President McKay explained that one of the responsibilities of an Assistant to the Twelve was to stand with the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles as a special witness and to bear testimony that Jesus is the Christ. What he said next overwhelmed me: “Before we proceed to set you apart, I ask you to bear your testimony to us. We want to know if you have that witness.”
I did the best I could. I bore my testimony the same as I might have in a fast and testimony meeting in my ward. To my surprise, the Brethren of the Presidency seemed pleased and proceeded to confer the office upon me.
That puzzled me greatly, for I had supposed that someone called to such an office would have an unusual, different, and greatly enlarged testimony and spiritual power.
It puzzled me for a long time until finally I could see that I already had what was required: an abiding testimony in my heart of the Restoration of the fulness of the gospel through the Prophet Joseph Smith, that we have a Heavenly Father, and that Jesus Christ is our Redeemer. I may not have known all about it, but I did have a testimony, and I was willing to learn.

President Gordon B. Hinckley visited members in seven cities and dedicated a temple in Aba, Nigeria, as he traveled around the world in July and August, adding several thousand miles to his extensive travel as Church President.
President Hinckley’s meetings with members ranged from small groups gathered on airport runways to thousands of Latter-day Saints participating in cultural celebrations.
Vladivostok, Russia
While making a brief stopover for plane refueling in Russia, President Hinckley greeted 200 members at an airport in Vladivostok. President Hinckley’s visit to the city was the first by a President of the Church.
“Live the gospel and establish the work in this great place,” President Hinckley said to the group.
President Hinckley told the members that they reminded him of a small congregation of Saints he met in Korea 50 years ago. He said that group of Saints now numbers in the thousands and told the Russian Saints he believes that in the future, thousands of Saints will live in their town. President Hinckley said if they will be true and faithful the Lord will bless them.
Seoul, South Korea
President Hinckley spoke in Seoul, South Korea, to members gathered for a regional conference. The meeting was broadcast throughout the country and to locations in the United States and Australia.
President Hinckley recalled previous stopovers in Korea. He apologized for missing a cultural celebration involving 1,500 adult and youth performers the evening prior to the conference due to a travel mishap.
He said: “God has poured out His blessings upon this people, and the security and the peace and the well-being of this nation rests on the righteousness of the nation. I believe with all my heart that if the Saints will live the gospel they will be spared from war and other afflictions.”
Taipei, Taiwan, and Hong Kong, China
While visiting in Taipei, Taiwan, and Hong Kong, China, President Hinckley met with members, and he dedicated Church office buildings in both cities. Both buildings have chapels, classrooms, and Church office space.
In the meeting with members in Hong Kong, he described receiving inspiration about the Hong Kong China Temple being part of a multistory building; it was a pattern, he said, that was used again for the Manhattan New York Temple. President Hinckley also expressed his gratitude for the members. He said: “I just want to tell you how much I love you. You are wonderful people.”
Aba, Nigeria
When President Hinckley arrived in Nigeria on August 6, the day before dedicating the Aba Nigeria Temple, Latter-day Saints in Nigeria welcomed him by lining the street leading to the temple grounds. They also performed “The Day of Rejoicing,” a cultural event to celebrate the arrival of the prophet and the completion of a new temple.
The program involved nearly 1,500 youth and children who had prepared for almost a year practicing music and dance routines. Youth from five stakes in Nigeria participated in the event. The audience, including local Church leaders, parents, and the prophet, sat on chairs or stood on a sloping hill just below the temple for the program.
The day after the cultural celebration President Hinckley dedicated the Aba Nigeria temple. The temple is the third operating temple in Africa and the Church’s 121st operating temple worldwide. (See accompanying article below.)
A Million Miles
During the trip President Hinckley also met with small groups of members during brief stops in Delhi, India, and Nairobi, Kenya. He said he told the members during these visits to continue “keeping the faith, living the gospel, doing what they ought to do, taking care of their families, providing for them, giving them spiritual strength.”
To speak to countless members, President Hinckley has traveled more than one million miles since becoming fifteenth President of the Church in March 1995.
Church News contributed to this report.

“But the teacher I remember best was Sister Call. She was just a jewel. I remember how impressed I was that she was willing to go on hikes with the Trail Builders. She’d plan scavenger hunts, but they were not just the regular kind. Each one would have a connection with some part of the lesson. As we would find each thing, it would teach us another part of the lesson. Then there was always a nice reward—some special treat at the end. I can’t believe the creative ways she used to keep our attention as young boys.
“Sister Call is a person who keeps on giving. Recently I received a phone call from her son. He wanted to bring a gift Sister Call had just completed for me. He brought to my office a beautiful quilt she had made. Thousands of careful stitches prepared in a beautiful pattern. She is ninety-one years young. I could not hold back a tear as I thought of the kindness of this great teacher.”

I got invited to a birthday party for a boy in my class. I was super excited. My mom told me the party was on a Sunday. She said I could make the choice about going to the party. I really wanted to go, but I knew that we are supposed to keep the Sabbath day holy. I told my mom I knew the right choice—I was going to skip the party. We took a present to my friend’s house on Saturday. I asked his mom if we could play on another day and explained why I couldn’t go to the party. I know I will be blessed because I chose the right and decided to keep the Sabbath day holy.

My husband and I joined the Church in 1973. Before we were baptized, our two year old son and only child had died after open heart surgery. We longed to have another child, especially as we gained new understanding from gospel principles.
Our stake patriarch promised, one year later, that the Lord would give me more children if I called upon him in faith and kept myself worthy.
In 1976, I learned that I was pregnant, but four and a half months later, I had a miscarriage.
In the hospital I had read my patriarchal blessing many times. We’d had one child after receiving the blessing. But there it was, from the mouth of the patriarch: The Lord would give us children. I was already thirty-five years old, and after losing two children, I was discouraged.
In 1984, two years after Christian’s death, our beloved daughter was born. I was close to dying giving birth to her.
We rejoice in the knowledge that our two sons are waiting for us in the spirit world, and we rejoice in our daughter who already has said her first prayer. If any more children are intended for us, we will gladly receive them.

Samuel especially found it difficult to understand the condition and all that it entailed. Looking back, he says, “I wished that there had been a book I could have read that let me know everything was going to be okay! As a type-1 diabetic, my life was very different and explaining that to my friends was like talking to an alien. They just didn’t understand.”
Instead of feeling sorry for himself, Sam felt inspired to help others in a similar situation. He explains, “It was hard after I was diagnosed, but I felt that I wanted to help others to have hope as they experienced the same feelings that I had at that time. It was then that I first thought of writing a children’s book about an alien called Zegg. I wanted to give hope to children who were newly diagnosed. One of my favourite authors is Dr. Seuss, so I tried to write it in his style.”
Samuel then had to work hard to make his book a reality, which happened early in 2021. He has already gifted 50 copies of the book to the hospital that helped him and plans to donate books to other health trusts for children who are beginning their own type-1 journey.
Sam, who is now 13, will always require insulin, and still experiences highs and lows, but his life is full of adventure, joy, and hope.
He has been raising funds in lots of imaginative ways to get copies of his book printed. Anyone can help by donating money for copies of the book (see https://samuel-grant.co.uk). He eventually hopes to gift the book to NHS trusts across the whole of the UK, so they can distribute copies to as many diagnosed Type-1 children as possible. Samuel adds, “Every year, an average of 5,000 children’s lives are changed forever by a Type-1 diagnosis. I hope that this book will help teach and educate people about the disease—being aware of it and understanding it, may help families live and cope with it better. This is one way I have been able to kind of minister to other people during hard and dark times.”

I mentioned that we have a son-in-law and three sons who graduated from this college. And there is another coming along. Last winter, our sixteen-year-old found in the neighborhood, under a pile of snow, a 1948 Ford tractor—sort of. He asked if he could buy it. It had stood, I think, for fifteen years without being used. It was rusted almost away. But he saw something there, and I saw something in his seeing something there.
So, with another old tractor, we dragged it through the snowdrifts home to the shop and later to the high school shop. There, a shop teacher and our son worked evening after evening to restore this tractor. Every few days it came again! “Dad, I found out that we’ve got to buy this or that.”
Strangely enough, he could find it. He got his driver’s license midway, and so off to Heber City he was for this part or somewhere else for that part. I, too, went with him to more than one city looking through junkyards for old tractor parts.
Then, as the bills mounted, someone made the observation that that tractor was a very expensive investment—perhaps a mistake. But I thought he made the mistake. He thought we were putting together a tractor. I thought we were putting together a boy. Somewhere in the middle of this, it wouldn’t work, and the shop teacher couldn’t find the problem. So we made a call to Max Peterson, eighty-four, long since retired, who spent his life with tractors. He showed up one evening, pointed out this and that to help my son, and then we were off again.

By the time Kim arrived at his early-morning seminary class, the students had already started singing the opening song, and he knew he was late. He walked in as quietly as possible, trying not to be noticed—not an easy thing to do in a class of 11.
He sat down and joined the others in singing “Onward, Christian Soldiers.” The class sang the song often—very often, in fact. Jessica was the pianist, and “Onward, Christian Soldiers” was one of only two or three hymns she knew how to play.
Scott, who sat next to Kim, caught Kim’s attention during the song and motioned toward Cindee, who was sitting behind them. His gesture drew an angry glance from Brother Barker, the teacher. Neither boy noticed the glare, however, and each turned and stared at Cindee.
Cindee wasn’t the prettiest girl that Scott and Kim knew, but she wasn’t the ugliest, either. She didn’t realize that she sang off key, but Scott and Kim knew. Each shot a knowing look at the other, and then they snickered.
After the prayer and the thought, Brother Barker began a lesson on service.
Kim’s mind began to wander. He looked at his watch and thought about the math test he would have in fourth period. Then he looked up at the poster Brother Barker had displayed prominently in the front of the room:
Painting PartySaturday 8:30Bring a Brush, a Friend,and Old Clothes
Oh yeah, he remembered. Brother Barker had asked the class to help paint a widow’s house.
The discussion about service was over, and Brother Barker concluded the class by talking about the morning’s opening song.
“You know, we sing ‘Onward, Christian Solders’ a lot in this class, and I think that’s good. The song relates to each of us here—as well as to service. I’d like you to think about how it does and about what a Christian soldier is. We’ll discuss it tomorrow.”
During Brother Barker’s discussion of the song the next day, he read slowly through each verse. Before he read the third verse, he asked the students to pay particular attention and to think what it meant to them:
Like a mighty army moves the Church of God;
Brothers, we are treading where the Saints have trod.
We are not divided; all one body we:
One in hope and doctrine, one in charity.
“You see, we are the Christian soldiers,” he said. “Each of us is important, because we each serve individually as soldiers. But when we are united in our service, when we serve together as a class or as members of the Church, all of our individual efforts are added together and we become, truly, a mighty army working together for the good of others.”
Brother Barker then reminded everyone to come to the painting party and to be united in their service on that day.
The four cars in the church parking lot Saturday morning were enough to grant Brother Barker an overwhelming feeling of success. The vehicles had brought ten of his eleven students and, with them, an exuberant fireball of raw energy waiting to be bridled. The missing student was Cindee, who had left a message with Brother Barker that she was sorry, but she wouldn’t be able to come.
The group said an opening prayer and then drove to an older house, where they gathered on the front lawn and listened to their instructions.
It was a productive morning. There was little wind, and the smell of fresh paint soon filled the air. Gradually the house—once a dirty gray—brightened into a fresh pale yellow.
“How did you do on your test yesterday?” Lynette asked Sue.
“Really well, I think,” she responded. “Most of the questions seemed pretty easy. How about you?”
“I think I did okay, too.”
Their conversation persisted while they worked, floating like driftwood from one topic to the next. It finally landed on the subject of Cindee.
“Hey, where is she, anyway? How come she didn’t come today?” Sue wondered.
“I don’t know; she never comes to things like this,” Lynette answered.
“I think it’s because she’s weird,” Kim piped in. He had been working his way toward Lynette and Sue and had overheard the conversation.
Lynette came to Cindee’s defense. “Oh, come off it, Kim,” she said. “You guys are always so rude to her. I wish you would just grow up.”
Kim yelled to Scott and Jared, who were also still painting. “Hey, Lynette thinks we should grow up. What do you guys think?”
“Yeah, I say we should,” Scott replied, grinning mischievously.
“Me, too,” Jared chimed in.
“There. See how easy that was?” Kim said to the girls. “Actually, I do know where Cindee is—right this minute.”
“Where?” Sue and Lynette both wanted to know.
“She started taking singing lessons today,” Kim joked. He then mimicked an out-of-tune scale, which seemed to trigger the next round of revelry. Several of the group spontaneously began singing, “Onward, Christian Soldiers”—off key.
It was too much for Brother Barker, who had been listening to the last few minutes of the conversation. He came flying around the house still holding a dripping yellow paintbrush. “You come down off those ladders right now,” he called firmly, wielding the brush as if it were a deadly weapon. His students descended quickly, looking sheepish.
Brother Barker singled out Kim, Scott, and Jared. “You three have been hard on Cindee for long enough,” he said with authority. “Do you have any idea how she feels? I want each of you to do something for her or talk to her to find out what she thinks and how she feels—and I’d like each of you to do it by next Friday. Okay?” The teacher gave each of the students a piercing look, pressuring them to respond.
“Okay,” each one said. Kim was the last one to agree.
The rest of the painting party proceeded without incident.
Kim watched the calendar each day, counting the days until his deadline. He knew in his heart that he should follow Brother Barker’s counsel and find a way to apologize to Cindee, but when he tried to picture himself actually doing or saying something, he realized that he just didn’t want to.
And then it was Thursday. Kim had made up his mind that this would be the day. But it was too late.
“Did you ever see Cindee?” Brother Barker asked Kim after the other students had left class.
“Not yet. I’m going to see her today.”
“That might be a little difficult. I got a call from Cindee’s mother last night. Cindee’s grandfather died yesterday, in Baltimore. Cindee and her mother have gone there to stay with her grandmother and to help prepare for the funeral. Since next week is the last full week of school, she told me that Cindee won’t be back.”
Kim felt a sudden wave of guilt for his procrastination. At the same time, though, he felt relief—like he’d been let off the hook.
“Oh, you might be interested in something else she said, too,” Brother Barker went on. “Cindee was in Baltimore on Saturday, reading to her grandfather and keeping him company. Apparently he’d been sick for quite a while, and Cindee’s been visiting him whenever she could. That’s why she couldn’t paint with us—and why she’s missed a lot of our activities.”
Brother Barker let that sink in before he continued. “In her own way, Cindee’s been serving right along with us—maybe even a little ahead of us. We just haven’t known, that’s all.”
Kim left Brother Barker’s class wishing he’d said something to Cindee—but not badly enough to do anything about it.
The following Monday was Memorial Day. Ever since Kim could remember, his family had gone to Arlington National Cemetery on Memorial Day to lay flowers on the grave of his grandfather, who had been killed in World War II. Kim knew that his parents would want to go again this year, but this time he didn’t want to go with them. He had other things he’d rather do, and besides, he didn’t see the purpose of laying a bunch of dumb flowers by a tombstone.
Early Monday morning, Kim’s family rose and prepared for the short drive to Arlington. As soon as the flowers were on the grave, Kim suggested that the family leave for home, but his father wanted first to see the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Kim went along grudgingly.
When they got to the tomb, Kim looked at the uniformed marine ceremoniously guarding the graves of the unknown soldiers buried there. Then he read the inscription on the tomb: “Here rests in honored glory an American soldier known but to God.”
Something about the setting touched Kim, but he wasn’t sure just what. He stood silently for a minute and watched the lone sentry parading slowly and deliberately from one end of the black walkway to the other. The guard stopped at each turn, then began the careful journey back. Everything about him seemed perfect: the spotless uniform, the polished black boots, the smooth cadence of his march. It seemed that the soldier felt no emotions, except that somber look on his face and the reverent spirit reminded Kim of something he had seen when he was ten.
He had had two dogs, Runner and Tank. One day Runner was hit by a car on a seldom-used dirt road and killed. Kim was devastated. Tank was too, apparently; he stood guarding the spot where Runner had died from then until Kim’s dad finally brought him home in the family truck two days later. It was Tank’s only way of mourning a lost friend.
Kim looked up again at the guard, and he thought he understood. This unknown soldier seemed to symbolize a part of the guard which had somehow been lost. His march was a respectful way of saying good-bye to that part of him—a lost friend—“known but to God.”
Kim didn’t talk as the family drove home from the cemetery. All he could think about were the endless rows of tombstones he had seen there, many marking the grave of someone who had died in battle.
Those who died in battle didn’t want to die anymore than I would, he realized. They had hopes and dreams and a family, just like me. How sad that they had to die so soon in their lives.
And then Kim thought about the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.
But if it’s that sad for them all to have died, he thought, what about those who fought and died but who couldn’t even be identified so that their families could experience at least some peace?
Kim was quiet the rest of the way home.
That night he lay awake, still unsettled. Several times he tried to picture himself as a soldier; it made him feel vulnerable. They were afraid, too, he realized. Just like I would be.
Something made him think about Brother Barker’s lesson on service.
“We should put ourselves in someone else’s place and think what we would want if we were in their situation,” he had said.
What would I want if I were one of those soldiers? he wondered. Or what if I were an unknown soldier? What would I want then?
He thought for several minutes before he found his answer: I’d want others to understand what I did.
As if on cue, “Onward, Christian Soldiers” began playing in his mind, and he immediately visualized his seminary class. The melody of the song changed, when it reached the chorus, as if someone were singing off key. Kim then saw himself turning, with Scott, to make faces at the girl sitting behind them—Cindee.
He winced a little as he remembered some of the things he and Scott had said about her before she left. He wondered whether she might have been more involved if not for them.
Then it hit him.
He hadn’t even known about what she was doing for her grandfather. Not only was she a Christian soldier but she was an unknown Christian soldier—her many acts of service were known “but to God.”
Kim felt a chill go through his spine. What was it he had thought about unknown soldiers just minutes earlier?
I’d want others to understand what I did, he had thought. Maybe that’s what Cindee had wanted, too.
Kim slept poorly that night.
Brother Barker was surprised by Kim’s request the next morning.
“You want to know how you can reach Cindee now?” he asked his student.
“Uh, yes, that’s right,” Kim replied. “Do you know how I can reach her at her grandmother’s place?”
“No, although I think I could find out, but—”
“Could you please? I’d like to apologize to her,” Kim concluded.
Brother Barker carefully studied Kim’s face for a few seconds, then made a few calls. He finally got Cindee’s number.
“You can call her from here if you’d like,” he said, motioning toward the phone with his head.
When the phone call that morning was for her, Cindee answered it, wondering who it could be.

The first winter in the Salt Lake Valley was hard for the Smith family. Food and shelter were scarce. When summer came and the family finally had a crop, Mary insisted that they pay a full and honest tithe. In those days, tithing was often paid in goods. Mary selected her best potatoes and headed for the tithing office. When William Thompson, a tithing clerk, saw her, he questioned her need to pay tithing, because she was so poor. Mary retorted, “William, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Would you deny me a blessing? If I did not pay my tithing I should expect the Lord to withhold His blessings from me; I pay my tithing, not only because it is a law of God but because I expect a blessing by doing it.”

Mary continued to pay her tithing, whatever her circumstances. She remained independent, raising chickens, sheep, and cattle. Her faithfulness impressed her children with the importance of tithing.

When I was 15 years old, I realized the significance of a testimony of the Book of Mormon, Joseph Smith, and the Savior and how it affects our choices.
My brother, Joe, was 20 years old. It was during the Korean conflict, and only one young man in each ward could go on a mission. The others had to be available to be drafted into the military. A young man in our ward had gone on a mission early in the year; my brother’s birthday was in September, so he didn’t think he would get the opportunity to serve a mission.
Our stake president called my brother in and told him that one of the wards had not used its allotment and he might be able to go. Missionaries were called at 20 years of age in those days, and my brother had just filled out his application to medical school. He was a good student. My father, who was not active in the Church, had made financial preparations to help him with medical school and was disappointed when he learned of the conversation with the stake president. My father counseled Joe not to go and suggested that he could do more good by going to medical school.
This was a big issue in our family. That night my brother and I talked about the choice. He was five years older, so it was mainly his thinking. As we reasoned it out, we concluded: If Jesus Christ was a great man but not divine, if Joseph Smith was a wonderful teacher but not a prophet, or if the Book of Mormon had wonderful counsel but was not the word of God, then Dad was right—it would be better to go to medical school. But if Jesus Christ is divine, if Joseph Smith is a prophet, and if the Book of Mormon is the word of God, then it would be more important to accept the call and proclaim the gospel.
That night, more than ever before, I wanted to know the answers to these questions. I had always believed in the divinity of Jesus Christ. I believed in Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon, but I wanted confirmation from the Lord. That night, as I prayed, the Spirit bore witness to my soul of the Savior and the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon and that Joseph Smith was a prophet. My brother received the same witness and made the choice to serve a mission. Incidentally, when my brother returned from his mission, he went to medical school. When I reached my 20th birthday, my father was happy to see me serve a mission.

In my Aaronic Priesthood years in Hawaii half a century ago and as a missionary in England, we would gather in meetinghouses and (with intense effort) listen to the priesthood session using a telephone connection. In later years satellites allowed broadcasts to selected Church locations with those enormous dish receivers so we could both hear and view the proceedings. We were in awe of that technology! Few could have imagined today’s world, where anyone who has access to the Internet with a smartphone, tablet, or computer can receive the messages of this meeting.
However, this vastly increased accessibility to the voices of the Lord’s servants, which are the same as the Lord’s own voice (see D&C 1:38), has little value unless we are willing to receive the word (see D&C 11:21) and then follow it. Simply stated, the purpose of general conference and of this priesthood session is fulfilled only if we are willing to act—if we are willing to change.
Several decades ago I was serving as a bishop. Over an extended period I met with a man in our ward who was many years my senior. This brother had a troubled relationship with his wife and was estranged from their children. He struggled to keep employment, had no close friends, and found interaction with ward members so difficult he finally was unwilling to serve in the Church. During one intense discussion about the challenges in his life, he leaned toward me—as his conclusion to our numerous talks—and said, “Bishop, I have a bad temper, and that’s just the way I am!”
That statement stunned me that night and has haunted me ever since. Once this man decided—once any of us conclude—“That’s just the way I am,” we give up our ability to change. We might as well raise the white flag, put down our weapons, concede the battle, and just surrender—any prospect of winning is lost. While some of us may think that does not describe us, perhaps every one of us demonstrates by at least one or two bad habits, “That’s just the way I am.”
Well, we meet in this priesthood meeting because who we are is not who we can become. We meet here tonight in the name of Jesus Christ. We meet with the confidence that His Atonement gives every one of us—no matter our weaknesses, our frailties, our addictions—the ability to change. We meet with the hope that our future, no matter our history, can be better.
When we participate in this meeting with the “real intent” to change (Moroni 10:4), the Spirit has full access to our hearts and minds. As the Lord revealed to the Prophet Joseph Smith, “And it shall come to pass, that inasmuch as they … exercise faith in me”—remember, faith is a principle of power and of action—“I will pour out my Spirit upon them in the day that they assemble themselves together” (D&C 44:2). That means tonight!
If you think your challenges are insurmountable, let me tell you of a man we met in a small village outside of Hyderabad, India, in 2006. This man exemplified a willingness to change. Appa Rao Nulu was born in rural India. When he was three years old, he contracted polio and was left physically disabled. His society taught him that his potential was severely limited. However, as a young adult he met our missionaries. They taught him of a greater potential, both in this life and in the eternity to come. He was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. With a significantly raised vision, he set a goal to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood and to serve a full-time mission. In 1986 he was ordained an elder and called to serve in India. Walking was not easy—he did his best, using a cane in each hand, and he fell often—but quitting was never an option. He made a commitment to honorably and devotedly serve a mission, and he did.
When we met Brother Nulu, nearly 20 years after his mission, he cheerfully greeted us where the road ended and led us down an uneven dirt path to the two-room home he shared with his wife and three children. It was an extremely hot and uncomfortable day. He still walked with great difficulty, but there was no self-pity. Through personal diligence, he has become a teacher, providing schooling for the village children. When we entered his modest house, he immediately took me to a corner and pulled out a box that contained his most important possessions. He wanted me to see a piece of paper. It read, “With good wishes and blessings to Elder Nulu, a courageous and happy missionary; [dated] June 25, 1987; [signed] Boyd K. Packer.” On that occasion, when then-Elder Packer visited India and spoke to a group of missionaries, he affirmed to Elder Nulu his potential. In essence, what Brother Nulu was telling me that day in 2006 was that the gospel had changed him—permanently!
On this visit to the Nulu home, we were accompanied by the mission president. He was there to interview Brother Nulu, his wife, and his children—for the parents to receive their endowments and be sealed and for the children to be sealed to their parents. We also presented the family with arrangements for them to travel to the Hong Kong China Temple for these ordinances. They wept with joy as their long-awaited dream was to be realized.
What is expected of a holder of the priesthood of God? What changes are required of us to become the manner of men we ought to be? I make three suggestions:
We need to be priesthood men! Whether we are young men holding the Aaronic Priesthood or men bearing the Melchizedek Priesthood, we need to be priesthood men, showing spiritual maturity because we have made covenants. As Paul said, “When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things” (1 Corinthians 13:11). We should be different because we hold the priesthood—not arrogant or prideful or patronizing but humble and teachable and meek. Receiving the priesthood and its various offices should mean something to us. It should not be a perfunctory “rite of passage” that automatically happens at certain ages but a sacred act of covenant thoughtfully made. We should feel so privileged and so grateful that our every action shows it. If we seldom even think about the priesthood, we need to change.
We need to serve! The essence of holding the priesthood is to magnify our calling (see D&C 84:33) by serving others. Avoiding our most important duty to serve our wives and children, not accepting or passively fulfilling callings in the Church, or not caring about others unless it is convenient is not who we should be. The Savior declared, “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind” (Matthew 22:37) and later added, “If thou lovest me thou shalt serve me” (D&C 42:29). Selfishness is the antithesis of priesthood responsibility, and if it is a trait of our character, we need to change.
We need to be worthy! I may not have the ability of Elder Jeffrey R. Holland when he spoke in a priesthood session a few years ago to “get in your face … , nose to nose, with just enough fire … to singe your eyebrows” (“We Are All Enlisted,” Ensign or Liahona, Nov. 2011, 45); but, dear brethren, we need to wake up to how commonly accepted practices in the world choke our power in the priesthood. If we think we can even flirt with pornography or violations of chastity or dishonesty in any form and not have it negatively affect us and our families, we are deceived. Moroni stated, “See that ye do all things in worthiness” (Mormon 9:29). The Lord powerfully directed, “And I now give unto you a commandment to beware concerning yourselves, to give diligent heed to the words of eternal life” (D&C 84:43). If there are any unresolved sins preventing our worthiness, we need to change.
The only complete response to the question posed by Jesus Christ “What manner of men ought ye to be?” is the one He succinctly and profoundly gave: “Even as I am” (3 Nephi 27:27). The invitation to “come unto Christ, and be perfected in him” (Moroni 10:32) both requires and expects change. Mercifully, He has not left us alone. “And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. … Then will I make weak things become strong” (Ether 12:27). Relying upon the Savior’s Atonement, we can change. Of this I am certain. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Marlan James Coe, 15, of the Las Vegas 36th Ward, Las Vegas Nevada Stake, was chosen to represent the Boy Scouts of America as the outstanding Scout in his region. Based on his outstanding achievements as a Scout, he was named the western regional winner. Marlan then went on to compete with five other Scouts from across the United States vying for the title of Scout National Youth Representative. After flying to Chicago for interviews, he was named runner-up to the national representative. That’s quite an achievement!

In 2018, Latter-day Saint Robert Opiyo joined the only ice hockey club in East-Central Africa, the Kenya Ice Lions. At the time, there were fewer than 30 ice hockey players in all of Kenya, and 17 of them (15 men and 2 women) were members of the Ice Lions team.
Today, there are over 40 adult players and 40 youth players who practice at least twice a week. Robert used the skills he learned on his mission in Melbourne, Australia, as one of the team’s executive members.
The Ice Lions trained at a hotel ice rink that was two-thirds the size of a regulation ice hockey rink. In October 2018, the team was sponsored to travel to Toronto, Canada, to play against two amateur Canadian teams.
Prior to their first match in Toronto, they trained without a goalkeeper. In a news interview in Toronto, the Ice Lions’ captain explained: “We didn’t have goalie equipment, and nobody can take that risk to be a goalie without the proper gear. So, what we used to do was set up a rubber toy penguin and we used to put it at the center of the goal and to score you had to hit the penguin above the belly.”
Due to challenges during the COVID-19 period, the team slowed down on activities and are now getting back on their feet. They often get support from individuals and groups who donate funds for their ice time and equipment that are used in the community.
Brother Opiyo dreams of the Olympics someday but is also content to be part of this pioneering endeavor. “Slowly more people hear about our desire and want to help us get there,” he said. “I’m grateful to have been a part that set the foundation for future generations.”

Many years ago a couple of fellow airline captains and I decided to fulfill a boyhood dream of restoring an antique airplane. Together we purchased a worn-down 1938 Piper Cub and started the work of returning it to its original form. The project was a labor of love. It had special meaning for me because I had learned to fly in a similar airplane when I was a young man.
This airplane was first built only 35 years after the Wright brothers made their famous first flight. Just thinking of that makes me feel very old.
The engine did not have an electric starter; as you were priming the engine from the cockpit, someone else on the ground would grab hold of the propeller and hurl it with might until the engine would run on its own. Each engine start was a moment of excitement and bravery.
Once the plane was airborne, it became clear the Piper Cub was not built for speed. As a matter of fact, when there was a strong headwind, it seemed as though we were not moving at all. I remember flying together with my teenage son, Guido, above the autobahn in Germany, and sure enough, the cars below passed us comfortably!
But, oh, how I loved this little plane! It was the perfect way to experience the wonder and beauty of flight. You could hear, feel, smell, taste, and see what flying was all about. The Wright brothers expressed it this way: “There is [nothing] equal to that which aviators enjoy while being carried through the air on great white wings.”

Recently I was privileged to meet a modern-day pioneer, a beloved daughter of God and recent convert to the Church in Chile. She is a single mother with two young sons. Through the power of the Atonement, she has been enabled to put her past behind her and is now earnestly striving to become a true disciple of Jesus Christ. As I think of her, a principle taught by Elder David A. Bednar comes to mind: “It is one thing to know that Jesus Christ came to earth to die for us—that is fundamental and foundational to the doctrine of Christ. But we also need to appreciate that the Lord desires, through His Atonement and by the power of the Holy Ghost, to live in us—not only to direct us but also to empower us.”
As this Chilean sister and I discussed how to stay on the path leading to eternal life, she enthusiastically assured me that she was determined to continue on the path. She had been off the path most of her life, and she declared that there was nothing “out there” off the path that she wanted to have back in her life again. The enabling power of the Atonement is living inside of her. It is being written in her heart.