Gospel Story Finder

Like many other young adults, Victor Kim of South Korea has found himself in situations where others didn’t share his standards:

“Sometimes at work, my colleagues and I went out to eat as a team, and they always drank. There was a lot of pressure to join in, and it wasn’t easy to turn everybody down. I always made sure that they knew beforehand that I don’t drink. Even still, I had to be strong and show confidence in my boundaries.

“In my experience, those who don’t set clear boundaries can become complacent and can eventually convince themselves that a little sin is OK. They can become numb to the Spirit and no longer see what is wrong and why it’s wrong.

“Peer pressure can also be really strong. Those who aren’t strong might eventually join in because what their friends are saying seems to make sense, even though it doesn’t fit our standards. But there is no middle ground. Eventually you have to choose.

“To stay strong, it helps to have a good friend so you can talk to each other and rely on each other. That way you can stay strong together. When I keep my standards, I feel safe. I’m worthy to ask God to protect me. I have faith that if I am obedient, He will help me.”

My love of the scriptures and the Book of Mormon really started while I served a mission in Seoul Korea. Where it really became a part of me, however, was after my mission.

I am most grateful today for a wise mission president who committed me to do 14 things as I finished my mission. You will see the letter outlining these commitments and my signature on the screen. One of these, number nine, was to continue to love the scriptures and to read from them daily.

It was that commitment that kept me from missing too many days in a row. It was that commitment that helped me reintroduce structure in my life similar to the mission field so I could study every day. For most of my married life I was diligent from Monday to Friday. I always knew when I needed to wake up so I could exercise and study before I needed to be at school and then later at work. Saturday belonged to my children and I didn't usually read on that day due to the constant going and coming from sports, dance and lessons. The point is that even though I didn't keep my commitment to read daily, I did read regularly. I established a positive pattern and habit. When I missed a day or two, I got right back on track quickly.

When my oldest son was speaking in church before beginning his mission he made a statement that really helped me understand how grateful I was for my mission president, F. Ray Hawkins. He reported that each morning he would come upstairs to read the Book of Mormon with the family prior to going to school he always knew he would find his father at his desk reading the scriptures. I am indebted to a wise mission president for helping me have a generational impact on my son. If you have not begun a life-long commitment to study daily from the scriptures, I invite you to begin today. If you are doing this, I invite you to continue. I am sure that many of the returned missionaries made a commitment to a mission president similar to mine. I invite you to be truly committed to do just what you were challenged to do. I would plead with you to make the Book of Mormon a large part of that daily commitment. When you slip, start again. Don't let one missed day turn into two and then three and four. Turn it around. This will be a blessing to you, but it will also impact your children. One day your own son or daughter may stand to speak in church and say, "I remember always seeing my dad and my mom reading the Book of Mormon."

I am going to share with you the experience of a young man I will call Luke whose eternal identity and purpose helped him overcome one of the most difficult and pernicious challenges we face.[12] I speak of the deadly threat of pornography. For many years the prophets have warned us about the terrible consequences that follow the use of pornography: marriages and families destroyed, loved ones wounded, the soul chained by addiction, the power of the priesthood lost, and spiritual death.

Luke foolishly ignored the teachings of the prophets and got involved with pornography. Pornography became like a drug he took to satisfy his appetites and relieve his pain.

Through sheer grit and determination and with the support of his bishop, Luke served a mission. But after his return he slipped back into using pornography. One day a young woman he had been dating asked him, "How do you deal with pornography?" In that moment he made a decision to be honest with her. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done. He told her about his past, about how he had overcome pornography, and about his mission. He told her about what had happened to him since his mission and confessed to her that he needed help. She encouraged him to see the bishop and told him that if he did she would support him.

Luke met with the bishop. The bishop helped Luke see that sheer grit was not a permanent solution. Luke faced a ruthless and relentless adversary, and he needed the redeeming and strengthening power of Christ to be completely free of the trap he was in. The bishop encouraged him, but Luke continued to struggle. He would do fine for a while, but would then fall back into his old pattern.

One evening the bishop was meeting with Luke when he received an impression to ask Luke a question. He said: "Luke, what is it about the gospel that you don't understand? What principle or doctrine are you missing? I want you to go home and find that doctrine. Study the scriptures, pray about it, and come and see me."

Luke followed through on the assignment for a few weeks without any success. In fact, he grew even more discouraged. But the bishop asked him to keep searching. One Sunday afternoon Luke walked into the bishop's office smiling. The bishop thought he looked like a new person. Where there had been pain and discouragement, the bishop saw light and hope.

This is what Luke said: "Bishop, I found the doctrine. Wednesday night I was praying for help. As I prayed, a stream of thoughts came into my mind: Your children are preparing to come to earth; you are their father, and you need to be worthy to take their mother to the holy temple and create their eternal family. Bishop, it was almost as if I saw them watching me, hoping I would win this battle. As soon as I had those feelings, the thought of using pornography became abhorrent to me."

Luke still had hard things to overcome. But that understanding of his identity and his purpose gave him a powerful bulwark against the wiles of the devil. He realized that Satan had been trying to steal his identity and get him to think that the guy who used pornography was the real Luke. But through the blessings of the Lord, Luke saw through Satan's lies. He said to the bishop, "That is not who I am."

Luke turned more powerfully and completely to the Savior. He became far more aware of the subtle ways Satan tried to lure him into the path of pornography. Over time the Lord healed Luke and he escaped completely from the trap of addiction. He experienced this marvelous promise of the Lord given through the prophet Isaiah:

Say to them that are of a fearful heart, Be strong, fear not: behold, your God will come with vengeance, even God with a recompence; he will come and save you.[13]

He grew up, coming and going through my door. After Jim’s 19th birthday and a year in Provo, he announced his intention to serve a mission. I was thrilled but a little surprised. He had never spoken of a testimony. His group of friends were split—some were going in the military, a few were planning on missions, and a few others struggled with worthiness problems.
Jim went back to Okinawa again, this time to receive a mission call. In a few month’s time he was on my doorstep again, on his way to the Missionary Training Center. We acknowledged how ironic it was for him to leave the Far East to come to the United States for a mission. During this visit, Jim began to talk. We talked about Japan, about his two dates, about his friends and their plans, and we discussed his recent trip to the Tokyo Temple to be endowed. We laughed, reminisced, and speculated about our future lives when he returned as an “R.M.”
Secretly, I worried about him. How was this quiet, private young man, who was just now conversing openly with me after a five-year friendship, going to survive on a mission? I couldn’t imagine him tracting, speaking in church, or teaching a discussion. Would he be an ever-silent companion? I hoped for understanding, sensitive, and gregarious companions for him. When the departure day arrived, I hugged and waved him off to the MTC with a prayer in my heart—for his growth and for his survival.
Jim’s letters were few and far between, but they were treasures. I finally got to know some of his thoughts. He began to share some of his feelings and his testimony with me. Missionary work was hard. He hoped he could “do the job.” He liked some companions and struggled with others. He was always full of faith. His letters proved the adage, “Still waters run deep.”
Fate and time brought a move for us and a relocation for Jim’s parents. We both moved to the state of Washington. His mother, when we communicated, helped fill in the gaps between Jim’s infrequent letters. She gave me news of transfers, of companions, of a new assignment: zone leader. I tried not to be surprised. I matched the depth of the well-written letters with the emergence of this “new” personality who trained elders and taught successful discussions.
When Jim returned from his mission, I was privileged to join his family at the airport to welcome him. As I drove to the airport, I reviewed our friendship and Jim’s growth and maturation. I speculated about his appearance and his demeanor.
He was the last person to emerge from the jetway, which caused extra anxiety for his waiting family. Finally, he appeared—taller than I remembered, and thinner. His naturally curly hair was darker and was cut so short that there was no curl. He wore the missionary uniform: dark suit, white shirt, dark tie, black “mailman” shoes. The suit was very worn and looked like it could stand on its own and still hold the shape of Jim’s body. He was bent a little from the weight of his carry-on luggage.
When he saw us, he smiled a little, then dropped his head as he walked the last few feet of the walkway. When he raised his head again, his eyes were red and he was weeping. He dropped his bags and embraced his mother in a tight hug and cried openly as he kissed her, then held her in his arms for a full minute more. He released her to repeat this exchange with his brother, sister, and his father.
It is a rare privilege to observe such an exchange of pure love among people. I thought, this is how it must be to return to our heavenly parents after completing our earthly missions. What a sweet experience to return, knowing you’ve served faithfully.
Jim then turned to me, and without hesitation, embraced me in a bear hug. As we parted, we both wiped tears from our eyes. And he said, “Thanks for being here.”
I spent another two hours with Jim that morning before we had to head in different directions. During that time, I watched him start a conversation with the man next to him while waiting for his luggage. Within 15 minutes, he had given the man a Book of Mormon and a pamphlet and had parted as a friend. I saw him spend a few private tender moments with his younger brother and sister as he sensed their need and focused on them individually. He gave half of his lunch to his little brother, when the ten-year-old complained of being hungry still.
Jim related a few mission experiences: of singing a duet in church with his companion, of a Sunday when he had 17 investigators at church on the same day, and of the mission farewell the night before. He had been amazed that so many of the missionaries had wanted to gather to say good-bye to him. Jim wept again as he expressed his concern for a companion who had recently lost his dad to a sudden, unexpected death. Here was compassion, love, humility, confidence, and power. Sitting before me, in his grayed shirt, wrinkled tie, and well-worn coat, was someone who had been seemingly magically transformed. His smile was the only trace of the shy, quiet boy who hesitated to pray in front of someone.
We send our young men and women out to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ. We ask them to study, to work hard, to endure, and to serve. And in the end, these children return to us whole, ready to teach and inspire by their loving and humble example. And, having been touched by divine light, we are, none of us, the same again.

My brother was less-active for a while. I tried almost everything I could think of to get him back to church. My parents were trying as well. I was almost ready to give up when a thought came to my mind in the middle of sacrament meeting. I followed the prompting, and a few weeks later he started to come for only sacrament meeting. It made me feel wonderful that he was coming back. I know that my Father in Heaven had answered my prayers and was helping my brother and me along in this obstacle in our lives. I know that if you pray for guidance, then Heavenly Father will indeed help you. Just don’t give up.
Hanna M., 15, Denmark

So it was 1986 and I did have two great blessings, and one was the year and half long marriage to my best friend in all the earth and the second blessing was the anticipation of a visit from my parents. Kristi and I lived in Provo, feeling fully actualized as kind of a Bobby and Betty BYU: both of us working on our marriage and family majors, both of us teaching missionaries at the Missionary Training Center, and both of us making 475 square feet of apartment space into a home--our home.

A year and a half into that married bliss, my parents were coming to Salt Lake City for my father to receive back surgery. My father was due for a several week recuperation, which would place him under my mother's direct care and they would both be staying at the home of my wife's parents and within visiting range of two dirt-poor college students.

Near the end of my parents' time with us, my father presented me with a poem. I had received other letters and thoughts from my father over the years, but I had never received a poem. It had my interest. Now my father was a man who would sit by my childhood bedside and explain in vivid detail how cells work, how blood flowed though veins and arteries, how muscle and bone combined to help us run and walk and move. He knew things about stars in the sky, about pine trees in the White Mountains of Arizona. He had been a seminary teacher, turned deputy sheriff; he wore boots and had a shiny badge. He made seemingly endless piles of French toast and homemade syrup every Saturday morning.

Mom and Dad had nine of us, and providing for such a brood saw my Dad take weekend security jobs at ASU football games or lonely midnight shifts securing shopping malls and stores. Those long nights offered him the occasional respite to sit and ponder. During one of these late night vigils, he once penned an 11-point document entitled, "True Happiness: What I Want To Teach My Children." To me, it reads like scripture, for example, this counsel, "Happiness follows effort. It occurs when the mind is at peace with the soul and the heart, when we are one with ourselves. It frequently occurs in the midst of hardship, trial, poverty, pain. It is frequently absent in the midst of wealth, ease, comfort and physical pleasure."[2] My father thought often of his children and how he might teach us principles of happiness, even when he could not be physically present. And once again he was teaching me, this time through poetry.

The poem tells of a young husband and father, who has gone into the mountains near his home to have solitary communion with his Heavenly Father in prayer.

The young man has a plea:
"What gift can I give dear Father,To show my love for thee?"
The Father responds:
"There is no gift that thou canst bringExcept thyself--just thee"
The man is perplexed and seeks to probe further, but the response, "only thyself--just thee" is all he receives that morning and he must head down into the fields of his day's work, pondering over this message from the Lord. Near the end of his day, weary and worn, he returns home and coming up the path is greeted by shouts of joy and hugs from his small child. The heart of this young father is filled near to bursting with love for his child. Slowly, with his little one clasped in his arms, the father turns and looks again at the mountain where earlier that day he had poured out his heart regarding something holy he could offer to the Heavenly Father he loved so much. It seemed to the young man as the last stream of sunlight hits the mountain peak that he felt an answer pierce his heart.

Yes, go to the mountain for comfort,Go to the mountain to prayYet it's here in the valley you're shapingThe gift you will offer one dayWork while that day is offeredGive to the task at handServe with a heart that is openWith love for your fellowmanYes, go the mountain for comfortGo to the mountain to prayBut remember my son it's the valleyWhere you're forging your life for that day[3]

Jill stood up, gathering her things together. One memory flashed swiftly across her mind. It was the hot summer of her tenth year. She had been bike racing with Martin up the hill to her house. Everything was going fine until her front tire hit a patch of gravel that caused her to skid out of control. Martin brought his bike to a screeching halt and helped Jill untangle herself from her bicycle. Jill remembered she had bumped her nose and skinned both her knees. Martin helped her limp home and then left. As her mother carefully applied Band-Aids to the torn knees, Jill told her that Martin was glad she fell because she had been winning. Her mother tried to explain that she was sure that that wasn’t true, but Jill insisted, pointing out that he had even left her alone. About a half an hour later, Martin showed up at their doorstep. He had brought Jill’s bicycle back and put it in the garage. He asked if Jill could come outside for a minute. Jill remembered walking out with a cool expression of complete disdain. She was completely surprised when Martin presented her with a “victory scoop” of strawberry ice cream. She had been winning, he had explained, so he bought her an ice cream cone with his allowance.

Similarly, when I told my story to another friend, Debbie, she laughed, because for her God had made it clear that in her home it was to be—as she put it—all hands on deck at home, all the time, by her. Debbie deferred completion of her undergraduate degree and taught and nurtured her four children—sometimes homeschooling them to best address their unique individual needs—until her youngest child was five, when she was prompted to return to BYU to finish her bachelor’s degree in linguistics, with minors in Chinese and Japanese.

When I contacted Debbie, she said that for her the Spirit seems to work by reawakening her own long-dormant dreams and goals when the time is right. She is now preparing to take the LSAT and hopes to become an attorney. “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven” (Ecclesiastes 3:1).

“I really appreciate your agreeing to do this,” Jenkins said as he led Kyle down the long hallway of the research and development section of Megatech.
“I couldn’t believe what they told me on the phone,” Kyle said.
“It is a pretty remarkable breakthrough, isn’t it? You know, out of 500 randomly selected calls, we had 86 percent willing to participate in our consumer-testing phase. Eighty-six percent—that’s unbelievable. I don’t mind telling you we’re very excited about the possibilities of VI-CAM.”
“Can you tell me again what VI-CAM stands for?”
“Sure, it took me a week to get it right. It stands for Viewer-Interactive Computer-Activated Movies.”
“How does it work?” Kyle asked.
“It’s really quite simple. Have you ever had the experience of coming out of a movie and liking everything about it except for a few parts.”
“Yeah, that happens a lot.”
“I’m sure you’re aware how much computers have improved over the past few years. We can process information faster and store and recall it much easier. So what we do in VI-CAM is take a character in a movie and more or less reduplicate him or her into computer memory. We do that with each character in the movie. With a few additional computer graphics breakthroughs, the system we’ve developed lets you take those characters and actually program the movie you want to see.”
Jenkins led him into a small room with a large-screen TV. “There are refreshments in the refrigerator. Take all the time you want. I’ll set it up to get you started. First thing we do is have you watch the uncut Hollywood version of the movie and then Lorie, the main character in the movie, will come on screen and ask you how you’d like to edit it. You can see it in as many versions as you want and stay as long as you want. We’re open 24 hours a day. Have fun.” And with that Jenkins left.
Kyle watched the Hollywood version first. It was a PG movie called Party SchoolUSA.
After it was over the actress Lorie Summers came on the screen. “Kyle, you still there?”
Kyle didn’t answer.
She smiled. “Kyle, you awake, or what?”
“Sorry. I guess I’m just not in the practice of talking to a TV.”
“I understand. Well, how did you like the movie?”
“It was okay,” he said politely.
“Just okay?”
“There were some things I didn’t care for.”
“No problem. We can change it anyway you want. Did you keep notes while you watched?”
“Yeah.”
“Great. How about if we go through what you wrote down?”
Kyle glanced at his notes. “All the parents and the teachers in the movie seem so messed up. It’s like you’re trying to say adults are no help at all to teenagers.”
“That’s right, Kyle. Adults are incompetent and stupid.”
“I don’t agree with that. My parents aren’t.”
“Do you agree with everything your parents say?”
“No, but even when we disagree, I respect what they tell me.”
“Why?”
“Because they’ve been through it all once before.”
“Adults don’t know what it’s like now for kids growing up,” she said.
“Oh, maybe not the exact things, but a lot of things are the same.”
“So you want the adults to be more … ?”
“Like real adults.”
She smiled faintly. “Well, you’re shooting down about half the plot, but we can fix it up the way you want. Anything else?”
“I really like you in the movie, Lorie, but I was wondering if you could, you know, not swear so much.”
“That’s the way people talk these days.”
“I know, but it still bothers me.”
“All right. We’ll cut out the swearing. What else?”
He cleared his throat. “Well, there’s that one scene where you don’t have, uh, a lot of clothes on.”
“Yeah, so?”
“I didn’t feel comfortable watching that.”
“Kyle, let me ask you a question. Are you normal?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Just wondering. Don’t you like the way I look?”
“Yes, but …”
“But what?”
“Why have that in the movie? It’s got nothing to do with the plot. It’s just thrown in there for no reason at all.”
“It sells tickets.”
“Maybe so, but why did you agree to be shown that way?”
“I’m not ashamed of my body, Kyle.”
“I’m not ashamed of mine either, but I don’t go around showing it to anyone who has the price of a movie ticket.”
“Kyle, let me tell you something. We’ve run this for 100 people today, and you’re only the fifth one who’s requested us to cut that scene. There’s someone a few booths down from you making similar changes, but yours is definitely a minority viewpoint.”
Kyle paused. “Who’s the other one making those kinds of changes?”
“A girl your age from Idaho. She’s in town for a few days. She’s staying with her aunt.”
“From Idaho, huh?”
“Yeah, she’s in Booth 27.”
“How far is that from here?”
Lorie paused. “Straight down the hall for 10 booths.”
“Do you mind if I go down there, and she and I talk to you from the same booth?”
“How do you know she’ll want to meet you?”
“Just a guess.”
“I don’t understand that at all.”
As Kyle walked down the hallway he glanced into each booth to see what others were watching. For some the changes in the movie had turned it into pornography. For others a simple teenage flick had become a horror movie with axes dripping blood. Kyle focused his attention on those who were watching. One man looked like he’d been there for days. His movie had degenerated to the extreme in degradation and horror.
Kyle reached Booth 27 and knocked. A girl his age opened the door. She looked like an outdoorsy kind of person with long dark brown hair and a nice smile.
“Hi, Kyle,” she said. “Lorie told me you were coming. I’m Susan Blair.”
They both stepped inside.
“Are you LDS?” he asked.
“Yeah, sure am.”
“I thought you might be. I am too.”
They sat down together on the couch in front of the TV console. Lorie came on the screen again. “Well, I see you two have met each other. Susan, I haven’t heard all your suggestions yet, have I?”
“Not yet. One thing is that I’m not happy with the way you portray people. In movies like this you always have the science nerd who can’t do anything right when it comes to talking to girls, the athlete who treats everybody like they were the scum of the earth, and the girl who goes through the movie mostly just smiling and looking dumb but beautiful.”
“So?” Lorie said.
“So some people who like science are fun to be with,” Kyle said.
“Yeah, and some athletes are friendly to everybody,” Susan said.
“And some beautiful girls have terrific minds too.”
“Are you two trying to ruin a perfectly good movie?” Lorie said.
“No, not really.”
“All right,” Lorie said. “I’ll see what we can do. Anything else?”
“I don’t like the way the movie ended,” Susan said.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Well,” Susan said, “for someone who believes in chastity, it’s just not the best ending.”
Lorie was getting red in the face. “They like each other so what they do is okay, all right?”
“It’s not all right unless they’re married,” Kyle said.
“We want it out of the movie,” Susan said.
“You’ve got adults sympathetic to kids, you’ve got a girl who wants to improve her mind, you’ve got everybody fully dressed the entire time, you’ve got athletes who aren’t jerks, and nerds who aren’t nerds, and the two main characters believe in—what did you call it, chastity? What on earth do you call that anyway?”
“We call that life,” Susan said.
The screen went blank.
A minute later the door opened and in walked Lorie Summers.
“She’s not real,” Kyle whispered.
“She looks real,” Susan said.
“I read about it in Omni Magazine. It’s a hologram. It’s done with lasers. Watch my hand. I’ll pass it right through her body.” He moved his hand through the air and touched her on the arm, which was very much real. He gasped.
“What’s wrong?” Susan asked.
“I have no idea how they do that,” he whispered back.
Lorie smiled.
“Are you real?” Kyle asked.
“I’ve been wondering the same thing about you two.
“You are real, aren’t you. You’re a famous movie star,” Kyle said. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been interested in this project since it began. Sometimes I come here just to watch what’s going on. There’s a monitor in the control booth where I can see what everyone is watching. The one difference between this and a regular movie is that with VI-CAM what a person sees is exactly what he or she chooses to see. And so it’s a way to find out what monsters lurk in people’s minds. There’s a man in one of the booths—you may have seen him on your way here—he’s been here ten days. He’s living on whatever he can get from the candy machine. Each time he changes the movie it becomes more and more warped. It’s kind of scary.” She paused. “Which brings me to you two. Why are you so different?”
“Well, it’s kind of a long story,” Kyle said.
“No it isn’t,” Susan interrupted. “I don’t know about the others who objected to the same scenes we did, but the reason we’re different is that we’re Mormons who try to live the way we’ve been taught.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Kyle said.
Lorie sat down. “I’ve got a confession to make. Even though I play a teenager in the movie, I’m actually older than that. I guess I used to believe what I was saying to you through the VI-CAM system. But time has a way of changing things. I’ve been wondering about things for a long time. Now I have a two-year-old daughter and I look at the world through different eyes. Sometimes it really scares me to realize she’s going to grow up in this world. You two seem a little strange to me, but I think you know how to avoid the bad things in the world today. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. How have you managed to escape?”
“Well, that’s kind of hard to explain,” Kyle said.
“Why is it so hard?” Susan said. “I think it’s simple. You escape evil by making good choices.”
A few minutes later the three of them walked down the long corridor together, talking about important things.

When I had been in Taiwan a little over two months, I was assigned to be the companion of a Chinese sister. As we were introduced, Sister Chen said, “I know you will teach me many gospel principles I can apply and learn.” I remember feeling overwhelmed by her expectation of me.
At first, the language and cultural barriers separating us seemed formidable. But with time, Sister Chen and I developed a communion of hearts far greater than my elementary Mandarin and her almost nonexistent English could express. Finally one day Sister Chen said, “You are no longer an American, Sister Myres, and I am not Chinese. We are sisters.”
I was at her side when she received her endowment in the Tokyo Temple. Sister Chen had thought that I would be her teacher. But she is the one who taught me the meaning of oneness, as explained by Paul: “God that made the world and all things therein … and hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth.” (Acts 17:24, 26.)

On April 12, 1987, President Ezra Taft Benson (1899-1994) visited Puerto Rico. This was his second visit to our island, as he already had created a stake in San Juan in December 1980. This would be our first time to be in the physical presence of a true prophet.
When he was entering the auditorium, we all got on our feet and sang “We Thank The, O God, for a Prophet” in Spanish. To my surprise, the presence of the Holy Ghost increased dramatically like I had never felt it before as President Benson walked in. I could hardly sing because tears were suddenly flowing from my eyes. I looked around and I saw that others could not sing either. I knew then, like never before, that we were in the presence of a true prophet. That greater testimony has continued to grow in me ever since.

Three Christmas trees stand out in the memory of Elder Gary B. Sabin.
The first was a beautiful Christmas tree of his youth. When Gary scaled the tree trying to reach a candy cane, the entire tree crashed to the ground.
The second was an evergreen branch he found as a missionary while serving in Belgium and the Netherlands from 1973 to 1975. Elder Sabin and his companion took the branch home to their apartment and propped it up around the Christmas cards they had received from home.
The third was a tree made of Christmas lights strung on the IV stand next to his daughter’s hospital bed. One of three Sabin children to suffer from cystic fibrosis, his daughter had received a double-lung transplant one year after the death of her brother from the same disease.
“We have learned a lot more from our children than they have learned from us,” says Elder Sabin.
As a General Authority he will remember the Christmas trees and the lessons he learned from them. Each tree highlights portions of his journey—from a young boy wanting a candy cane to a missionary teaching the plan of salvation to a father who relied on the plan and the Savior’s love to sustain his family through mortal trials.

At the age of three, Zane insisted that he be allowed to ride in the rodeo against the eight- to twelve-year-old cowboys. But since he was too young to compete, he was only allowed to demonstrate his riding skill. Undaunted, he put on his hat, boots, rope, and spurs and climbed aboard a rather angry calf. Zane says that the next thing he knew he was on the ground. Apparently, he had ridden the calf almost to the time limit before falling off.

One time when I was on the Priesthood Missionary Committee of the Church, I traveled to a conference with President Marion G. Romney, who at that time was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve. Between conference sessions we walked around the parking lot of the Pocatello East Stake Center. It was a cool, blustery day. He stopped and put his arm through mine, and then he said, “Brother Featherstone, do you think the brethren of the priesthood will ever come to understand that they were born to serve their fellowmen?” And I ask you, brethren, do you think we will?

Tory swung her legs back and forth under her chair. Her stomach growled. She loved going to her new church, but sometimes she got a little hungry by the end.
“What can we do to follow Jesus?” Sister Jameson asked the class.
Tory put her feet on the floor. She sat up straight. I want to follow Jesus! she thought.
Erica raised her hand. “We can read the scriptures.”
“That’s a great idea. Our stake president just asked us to read the Book of Mormon every day,” Sister Jameson said. “Who will do that?”
Everyone raised their hands high. Everyone except Tory. She raised her hand only halfway.
Tory was a new member of the Church—and the only member in her family. She had first learned about the Church when her friend Erica invited her to Primary.
Tory still had a hard time reading the Book of Mormon on her own. It had lots of funny names in it, like Teancum and Anti-Nephi-Lehies.
“I’m not sure if I can,” Tory told Erica.
“I’ll help you!” Erica said. “You can come to my house before school. My family reads scriptures right after breakfast. Then we can walk to school together.”
“Thanks!” Tory said. She was glad that Erica lived so close.
Dad said it was OK, so every morning Tory went to Erica’s house before school. They read the Book of Mormon with Erica’s family. Tory even tried reading by herself on the weekends.
But then one day in soccer practice, Tory twisted her ankle. After a trip to the doctor, Mom helped Tory to the couch so she could rest. Then Tory called Erica with the bad news.
“I hurt my ankle at soccer today. I have to use crutches for two weeks! And my mom has to drive me to school.” Tory swallowed. Her eyes stung a little bit. “I can’t come over to read scriptures anymore.”
“Oh no! I’m so sorry,” Erica said.
“I wish I could keep reading the Book of Mormon with your family.” Tory frowned at her foot. It was wrapped in white, sticky tape and propped on a chair in front of her.
Erica was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “I have an idea—a way we can keep reading together!”
“How?”
“Stay by the computer before school tomorrow. You’ll see!”
The next morning Tory got ready for school as fast as she could. But her ankle made it tricky. She got out her favorite green socks. But they wouldn’t even fit on her foot! Tory hobbled to the living room and plopped into the chair by the computer.
The computer made a beeping sound. It was a video call from Erica’s family! Tory answered, and a blurry screen came up. Erica’s face appeared.
“We’re ready!” Erica grinned. “Now you can still read with us every morning.”
Tory opened her scriptures. She followed along as they read 1 Nephi 3:7: “I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded.” She smiled. She was doing what the Lord had commanded too!

Several years ago I wanted to plan a family home evening focused on family history. Our children, then ages 9 through 13, were only vaguely aware of some of their ancestors, so I came up with a game that helped us all become better acquainted with our ancestors.
I prepared a six-generation pedigree chart on a large piece of paper, filling in only the children’s names and leaving the other spaces blank. (I made a key to the whole chart so I would know how it should look when completed.)
For each blank space on the chart, I made a separate card containing the ancestor’s full name and listing some information about that person. For example, one card read, “Ira Walter Gardner. I was born in 1849 in Sweetwater, Wyoming, while my parents were crossing the plains.”
As I passed out the cards, I explained the rules. Using the information on the cards, each person would deduce where on the chart his or her cards would go. At each turn they could ask me yes or no questions about their ancestor. As long as they got yes answers, they could continue to ask. If they put their card in the wrong space or got a no answer, their turn was over. The children caught on quickly, and soon the chart was complete.
We all enjoyed the game, and the children began to develop a greater appreciation for their forebears.

I am personally keenly aware that many of the blessings I am enjoying now in this life stem from decisions I made when I was between the ages of eighteen and thirty. This amazing man sitting with me here on the stand happens to be the best decision I made while here at BYU. To this day he still thinks he saw me first, but the fact is that I spotted him on campus, went to the administration building, found out his schedule, and just happened to be near some of his classes occasionally. I believe you might call that “stalking” today! But I called it flirting then. And I clearly remember sitting in a devotional similar to this having prayed about making the decision to marry or not marry this man. I was worried. I felt so young. That day the speaker spoke about how to make decisions. I can still vividly recall feeling that I was the only one in the entire devotional that morning, and I left with the formula for how to receive personal revelation—to know all things that I should or should not do. That formula is one that all of you are familiar with in sections 8 and 9 of the Doctrine and Covenants—but that day it was news to me. And, as you can see, I applied the formula, and the rest is history!

I don’t think either Steve or I realized or visualized what the future would hold then. We felt so young. We were so young! This Christmas I gave my husband a family portrait. As he opened it, it was one of those magic moments when heaven and earth come together. We looked at our eternal family and we sat in the living room and cried as we counted our blessings and as we thought about all those critical decisions along the path of life—made when we were young, following the guidance of the Spirit. So I invite you to read Doctrine and Covenants sections 8 and 9, learn the pattern, follow the Spirit, and don’t let anyone tell you that you are too young. “Let no man despise thy youth.”

In those six years I grew not only spiritually, but in other ways. By the time I was in the ninth grade, I stood a shade over six feet tall, and like my father, was wiry and strong. That spring I discovered that I was a runner.
Chuck and I turned out for track only after mulling long and hard about trying out for baseball. We finally decided that the assurance of running races was preferable to sitting on a bench in baseball. With only a week before the first meet, Chuck and I approached the track coach who had us join the other runners in lap work.
The middle distances sounded good to me. So a week later I found myself at a starting line with a dozen other shivering boys on a chilly April afternoon of the first race, waiting for the starter to fire his pistol.
The gun popped. “Why are they all sprinting?” I thought as we rounded the first corner. The whole race, it seemed, was a sprint. Four times around the track, pumping my arms, maintaining a stride. I kept my head down, concentrating. Midway through the last lap I looked up and saw another runner 20 yards ahead. I began to run faster, trying to catch him. If I’d come this far and run this hard, why not go for first place? The ease with which I caught him was bewildering. He must be terribly tired, I thought. Then, right in front of me was the tape. I ran through it and, for the first time, became conscious of the cheering around me.
“Great race, Tommy. Wait until you’re really in shape. You won by half a lap!” said the coach.
“How could I? I barely passed the last runner.”
“You were lapping him, Tommy.”
It seemed that I had met my destiny, all in the space of a little over four and a half minutes.
That evening, Father finished his dinner and placed his knife and fork across his plate. I had said nothing about the race because I knew he would ask. The time was at hand.
“So, how was your meet, Tommy?”
“Pretty good. I won my race. Set a freshman record, too.”
“In the 1,500 meters?”
“Yes.”
Father sat back and looked at me. “And to think you almost went out for baseball.”

As soon as Father and Saul had finished the morning meal, Rebekah began clearing the dishes from the table. If she hurried with her work, she might be the first to arrive at Hannah’s house.
“I’ll help you with the dishes before I leave,” Mother said.
“Leave?” Rebekah asked in surprise. “Are you going to Grandmother’s again?”
“No,” Mother answered. “But I must go to Ezra the potter’s home. His wife has been ill for many days and there is much that needs to be done. Have Rachel help you make the beds. Baby Anna will be ready to go back to sleep at midmorning.”
Rebekah looked at her mother in alarm. “Are you leaving the little ones with me?” she asked.
“Yes, dear, I must leave them,” Mother answered. “A home where there is sickness is no place to take children. You’ll be all right.”
“But I had planned to go to Hannah’s house today when my work was finished,” Rebekah protested.
“When there is need,” Mother said gently, “plans must often be changed. You can go to Hannah’s house another day.”
“Can’t someone else help this once? Why does it always have to be you?”
“Others will help,” Mother said. “There will be need for many to offer assistance before the potter’s wife is well. And so you must care for our own little ones today. Father and Saul will not return at midday, but lunch must be prepared for Rachel and Baby Anna.”
It isn’t fair, Rebekah thought. Why must I always miss the fun and stay home? Hannah and the other girls never have to stay home and work. It just isn’t fair!
After mother left, Rebekah forced herself to take care of the children and the house but she was tired and cross all day. That evening, however, Mother didn’t seem to notice that Rebekah was out of sorts when she said to her daughter, “I’ve just learned that the harvesters have finished in the grainfields west of the city. Grandmother will come to care for the younger ones and tomorrow you and I shall join the gleaners.”
“The gleaners?” Rebekah cried in disbelief. “The wife of Simon the wool merchant has no need to glean in the fields.”
“Perhaps not for her own family,” Mother answered soberly. “But her daughter needs to learn to do such work.”
Then she put a hand on Rebekah’s arm. “My child, a woman never knows when there might be need in her own family. She must learn to do many things—even difficult tasks.
“A woman’s hands are made for service,” Mother continued, “if not service to her own family then to others less fortunate. Always there is need and always there is opportunity.”
Once again Rebekah had to tell her friends that she could not play, and Hannah smirked when Rebekah suggested that they come along too. “My father asks no such help from the women of his household,” she answered haughtily.
A blush of shame rose to Rebekah’s cheeks. Why can’t Mother see how she makes me look to my friends? she thought indignantly.
The sun had not risen when Grandmother came to care for the little ones. Resentment was heavy in Rebekah’s heart as she walked beside Mother, each carrying a basket through the city and to the fields beyond. A few other women had already reached the fields.
Mother showed Rebekah how to find the heads of grain that had been missed by the reapers and how to break them off and place them in the basket. Mother even stooped to gather kernels of grain that had fallen to the ground.
“We must work as quickly as possible,” she explained, “before the birds come to take the grain from us.”
At first, Rebekah had difficulty in snapping the heads off the grain without breaking a large part of the stem. But after a while she became more skillful. Gradually the bottom of her basket began to fill. Her back and arms grew weary, and Rebekah paused to stretch. She glanced around the field and saw that many more people had come now to glean—women and children of all ages.
Rebekah was startled to see some who were there—women so old and crippled that it would seem they could not move across the field. But still they worked. And there were children working, too, children so small that they were little more than toddlers.
Rebekah’s hands flew faster as, in a sudden rush of compassion, she looked at the people working in the fields. Perhaps if I make a good gleaning, Mother will let me put some of my grain into the basket of that old woman or into the small boy’s basket, she thought.
Pausing once more to rest her weary back, Rebekah found herself within a few feet of a girl about her own age who looked up and smiled shyly. “That is the hardest part of gleaning,” she said. “The tired back. But it grows easier after a few days.”
“Then you have gleaned before?” Rebekah asked.
“Many times.” The girl rubbed her back, then stooped down to the work. “The men in these fields are always generous with what they leave for the gleaners. It is truly a blessing.”
Rebekah glanced quickly toward the other girl. A blessing to glean? she wondered.
Surprise must have shown on her face, for the girl said, “Two years ago my father was gored by an ox, and he can’t do hard work anymore. My mother is not strong either. There are three children younger than I, so we each do what we can.”
“This is my first time in the fields,” Rebekah admitted. “My mother said that I must learn. But I am so slow.”
“You will learn,” the girl assured her.
“My mother is over there,” Rebekah said, pointing across the field.
The girl nodded. “Yes, everyone knows her. She comes to the fields each year. And within the city there are many she has helped.”
The two girls worked together until Mother came to say that it was time for the midday meal.
“Eat with us,” Rebekah urged her new friend.
“I—I had not thought to stop just yet and my brother—”
The girl glanced toward the small boy whom Rebekah had noticed earlier.
“Your brother also,” Rebekah put in quickly. She guessed they had no food to bring. “Please share with us.”
The tired look left the small boy’s face at sight of the generous bundle of food. Hungry as she was, Rebekah ate less than she wanted and passed the extra portion to him.
After the girl and her brother returned to the gleaning, Rebekah asked her mother, “If I work hard every day of the gleaning, may I share what I glean with others who have need?”
Tears stood bright in her mother’s eyes, and she put her arms around Rebekah and said, “My child, such pride you give me. So quickly have you learned the way of compassion and love.”
“I should have learned long ago.” Rebekah replied, “when I have had you for an example.”

Anthon stepped from his doorway onto the cobbled street, hesitated, and turned back to his wife—“the best in the land” he called her.
“Are you coming, Ibine?”
His wife stepped out of the doorway. She was wrapped in woolen scarves and a heavy coat. The February night was icy cold. Their destination was the seashore, a few blocks from their home. The children followed Ibine out the door. Thorvald and Astra were too young to be baptized but not too young to be excited for their parents. Only Anthon didn’t feel excited. He was quiet and pensive while walking along the clean-swept streets of Aalborg.
The night was very dark. The children cuddled close to their parents. The hand of tiny Thorvald squeezed his father’s, and pretty little Astra clung to Ibine. Anthon looked down at Thor and remembered his own childhood. He remembered the cows he had herded, the wooden shoes he had worn in winter, his own sister who had died in a terrible blizzard too far from home to get help. He remembered the worried look of his father who couldn’t support his family of nine during the mid-1800s war with Germany. He remembered working from 2:00 in the morning until 11:00 at night on a farm in order to help. He remembered crying in bed at night. “I wondered what I was sent on this earth for. I couldn’t see what good I was doing. All I could see ahead was endless work to no real worthwhile end.”
The frigid cold gripped Anthon’s face, and he wondered if the children or Ibine were uncomfortable. The chilling breeze made him think of glacier ice, and he remembered learning that ice-age glaciers had left his Denmark an undulating flatland so suited to farming and agriculture. He was grateful that at least a few years of formal education were mandatory—that his country believed in the virtues of learning and working. He saw ships’ masts in the harbor poking above the fields.
He and his family were nearing the place where they would be baptized. A sick feeling of loneliness hit him in his stomach. “My homeland, my forefathers, all that has been good to me—am I giving up their trust in me for a far-fetched religion sprouted in a distant, upstart country?”
Every member of the Mormon church who lived in Aalborg was there on the seashore, some holding lanterns. It was a small but cheery group. They sang hymns and smiled. But Anthon was still quiet. He looked into the faces of his beautiful children and wondered if he was doing what was right for them. He knew he would have to find a private school for them because the prejudice in the public schools against the few Mormon children was too much for such young children to bear.
The singing was over. A prayer was given to open the meeting. The missionaries asked a blessing on Brother and Sister Jensen that as they were baptized they would not fall ill from the freezing temperatures. A hole was chopped in the ice. The sacred ordinance was performed for both Anthon and his wife, Ibine. The two new members were welcomed with hugs and handshakes and sent quickly home to a warm fireplace. It was then that Anthon noticed something special—something unexpected. On their way home he found himself walking, almost skipping, with lightened step—his wife and children smiling at him all the way. The heavy burdens of worry had been lifted. He knew he had done the right thing, and above all he knew now that there was something important for him to do in life.
“I went to my former friend and minister the next day to bear him my testimony. I was so happy that I felt I could convert the whole world, and I wanted to,” he later recorded. “I wanted everyone to feel the peace and the joy that came with my baptism. And the most wonderful thing of all, I had an assurance that greater joys and greater knowledge were yet in store—not only for me but for my beautiful family.”