Gospel Story Finder

After the opening prayer, the projectionist hit the switch, and the evening was awash in cheers, laughter, and even a few friendly groans. Poor Cindy Ella, outcast because of her curly hair, did get to the governor’s ball (thanks to her fairy godperson) and fell in love with the governor’s curly headed son. A new banana eating record was set. The three junk food junkies did lose weight. The missionaries did keep tracting. Fun triumphed again. All seven wards had come up with their own idea of what the silver screen is all about, and all were pretty proud of what they had done.

Sometimes the Lord reveals truth to us when we are not actively seeking it, when we are in danger and know it not. I remember that on one occasion I had been driving for long hours alone on high Bolivian mountain roads a single lane wide. As I approached a sharp turn an impression came into my mind: “If my wife were here she would tell me to honk the horn.” I did, and as I turned the corner I saw a jeep skidding to a halt; it had heard the warning sound. Had I not done it I would have been in trouble. Not two hours later the same thing happened, this time with an ambulance.

But it’s not only in public ways that the gospel helps the youth in Alice Springs. For Ivan Munn, 18, the gospel has brought the reassurance that he can turn to the Lord for help.
“I’ve learned some things the hard way,” Ivan says. “I fell away from the Church, but now I’m back. I’ve stopped doing the bad things, and I’m working to show my love for the Lord. Repentance is a hard job, but it’s worth it.”
Ivan says Church friends have made a difference. “The youth here, the missionaries, the leaders—they’ve all helped me sort things out,” he says. “But faith in the Savior and in Heavenly Father is what keeps you going. The Book of Mormon talks about the servant and the master in the fruit fields [see Jacob 5]. It talks about cutting out the bad fruit so that good fruit can come forth. I think that symbolizes my life. With the Lord’s help, I’ve cut away the bad fruit. I believe the good fruit is starting to come forth.”

There was a period when I was required as an officer in the Ensign Stake to go every Friday to the temple. It was not a burden. as I had thought it would be. It became instead my joy. Slowly, because of that regularity, I was trusted with certain assignments in the temple. This meant that I could walk into the temple annex and they would all say, “Good morning, Brother Madsen”; and I wouldn’t even have to show my recommend. Not only that, but I had the privilege to sit for hours in the chapel of the annex or elsewhere, contemplative, reading occasionally, but trying to absorb, trying to breathe the air that is heavier than air in that place. There I would meditate about my critical problems, which had to do with decisions about my life’s work, decisions about the girl I should marry, and other struggles in how to cope. There were, I testify, times when I learned something about me; there were times when peace came in a decision, and I knew that that peace was of God.

About this time, I attended a fireside where Julie spoke; she talked a lot about prayer. I took her counsel to heart and decided to start praying morning and night with real sincerity. I got up earlier than before, scheduled 15 or 20 minutes just for prayer, and treated it as an appointment with the most important person in my life. I found that I could get answers and guidance in a way I never had before.

I am so grateful for the ongoing building of temples in this “dispensation of the fulness of times” (Doctrine and Covenants 128:18). Since the early days of the Restoration, faithful Saints have made many sacrifices to receive temple ordinances and covenants. Following their great example, in 1975, after many economic sacrifices to travel from Mexico City, my dear wife, Evelia, and I, being accompanied by our dear parents, were sealed as an eternal husband and wife in the Mesa Arizona Temple. That day, as we were united by the authority of the priesthood in the house of the Lord, we truly experienced a glimpse of heaven.

A few days into the #GiveThanks challenge issued by President Russell M. Nelson in late November, I was already feeling sensitised to the many blessings around me. I noted with thanks my beautiful family, my job, the gospel, and the sunshine we enjoy almost every day of the year in South Africa.
And then, on Tuesday, the doorbell rang.
I had just managed to get my three-year-old daughter down for her afternoon nap. Our young baby was also fussing and tired. As a working mom of three small children I too was in a haze of fatigue. On top of that, I was in pain because I had sprained my ankle while running that morning, and was feeling a little sorry for myself because I had been participating in a fitness challenge that I knew I now wouldn’t be able to finish.
I felt concerned that the noise of the bell would wake my sleeping daughter, irritated at the inconvenience of moving my sore ankle and impatient to get my baby to sleep, so that I could get back to my work deadline.
I limped to the door.
A man who was doing construction at a house down the road stood outside the gate. He said he hadn’t brought his skaftin (lunchbox). He asked if I could I please give him some lunch.
My husband mentioned that this was the third time that someone from the same construction project had come to ask for food.
I told him this was a bad time: I was trying to get my baby to sleep.
He said please, just a piece of bread, just for him.
“I’ll give you something simple, but please try to remember your lunchbox tomorrow,” I said.
I went into my kitchen and opened my fridge. It was teeming with fresh, healthy food. In that moment, I felt a simultaneous sense of gratitude and guilt: grateful for the abundance of food I enjoy each day; guilty for having felt inconvenienced by his request.
The scripture of Matthew 25:35 came to mind: “For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in.”
The Spirit prodded me with a question. Was I a true follower of Christ if I wasn’t willing to inconvenience myself to help someone in their time of need?
I hobbled outside to my gate, holding my baby in one arm; two peanut butter sandwiches and two apples in the other. I smiled and told him the bread was still slightly frozen.
My offering was meagre and hastily prepared, but the man looked genuinely surprised as I handed him the four items through the gate. Both sandwiches? Both apples? All for him? His eyes seemed to ask.
Then it was my turn to be surprised. I saw his eyes well up with tears. “Thank you, Mami,” he kept saying, “Thank you. Mami, Mami . . . this will go a long way.” I looked away—embarrassed at his reaction to my small donation, scared I might also tear up, and bid him goodbye.
What did it take to give someone four minutes of my day and two peanut butter sandwiches? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
What did it mean to the man at the gate? Evidently, a whole lot.
It occurred to me that, due to the downturn of construction projects and the huge spike in unemployment in South Africa following the outbreak of the Coronavirus, this man might have been earning money for the first time in several months. It occurred to me that he probably needs every cent he earns to help support several other unemployed family members.
It occurred to me that he wasn’t forgetting his lunchbox at all.
It occurred to me that he couldn’t afford to eat lunch.
In the few moments following that tiny interaction, I felt almost overcome with emotion. My action had been small and flawed. Yet despite that, it had made a huge difference to the man I helped. I felt a deep sense of gratitude that the Lord would allow the weak and simple (See D&C 1:23) such as myself to help achieve his ends.
I give thanks for the millions of lessons such as this one that Heavenly Father offers to us; for these small opportunities of connecting with other human spirits. For the grace of God in allowing us—through no qualification of our own—to breathe tiny particles of goodness into others’ existence.
I give thanks for the lesson I learned from the man at my gate.

“We are going to Arizona because the prophet called us to go,” Mother explained. “Remember my telling you about when I was your age and my family lived in Nauvoo? After the Prophet Joseph Smith was killed, there were contentions with our neighbors. The Brethren told us to leave our homes and move west. There our lives would be spared, and we could worship in peace.
“It was terrible to leave our home, but there was nothing else to do unless we turned away from God, the Brethren, and the Church. We made the long, hard journey to Salt Lake. We sacrificed again when we followed President Young’s direction to leave there and settle here.
“Now we have been asked to go to Arizona. We do not have to go. No one is forcing us. We are not fleeing for our lives. We could find reasons not to go. This time the struggle to obey comes from within.”
Mother hugged me as she continued. “The Lord said that when we receive a commandment ‘whether by [His] own voice or by the voice of [His] servants, it is the same’ (D&C 1:38). Our prophet has spoken to us. I know he speaks for God. Your father and I decided long ago to follow the prophet, no matter what the sacrifice.”
The Spirit warmed me as I listened to Mother’s testimony. I felt strengthened for the uncertainties ahead.
As I climbed into the loaded wagon, I took one last look at our old home, then turned to face the trail to Arizona. I realized that I, too, had a testimony of God’s representative on earth. Like my parents, I decided I would follow the prophet—even to the last frontier.

A father should never consciously disappoint his wife or children. In 1989 there was a terrible earthquake in Armenia that killed over 30,000 people in four minutes. A distraught father went in frantic search of his son. He reached his son’s school only to find that it had been reduced to a pile of rubble. But he was driven by his promise to his son, “No matter what, I’ll always be there for you!” He visualized the corner where his son’s classroom would be, rushed there, and started to dig through the debris, brick by brick.

Others came on the scene—the fire chief, then the police—warning him of fires and explosions, and urging him to leave the search to the emergency crews. But he tenaciously carried on digging. Night came and went, and then, in the 38th hour of digging, he thought he heard his son’s voice. “Armand!” he called out. Then he heard, “Dad!?! It’s me, Dad! I told the other kids not to worry. I told ’em that if you were alive, you’d save me and when you saved me, they’d be saved. …

“There are 14 of us left out of 33. … When the building collapsed, it made a wedge, like a triangle, and it saved us.”

“Come on out, boy!”

“No, Dad! Let the other kids out first, ’cause I know you’ll get me! No matter what, I know you’ll be there for me!”

The temptation your children will face will not come at home nor in the seminary class. It will come later, when they are away from both teacher and parent. One day you must set them free. When that day comes, how free will they be, and how safe? It will depend on how much truth they have received. I know of a young missionary who, half a world away from his parents and teachers, faced the testing that comes to young manhood. There, beyond the control of either of them, he made a decision. Later he wrote: “I’m so glad I stayed, because during this last month I found something—I found myself.”

Hope Gentile, four days before her first chemotherapy treatment in March 2015.
Photographs of Hope by Nicholas Gentile
A few years ago, a single word—cancer—thrust the young family of Nicholas and Christina Gentile into what Brother Gentile called “the uncharted depths of a life-or-death trial.” Their 19-month-old daughter, Hope, had been diagnosed with a tumor in her lower back.
“Over the next five months of surgeries and chemotherapy,” recalls Brother Gentile, “Hope’s battle for life created a kaleidoscope of experiences that ultimately strengthened our family’s testimony of the Savior’s grace.”
Hope’s trial and uncertain future drew the family closer—to each other and to the Savior.
“We knew that what we saw was only part of the reality that God saw for Hope,” said Brother Gentile. “Despite the darkness, we trusted in Him, regardless of the outcome.”
One dark night during Hope’s second five-day round of chemotherapy, Brother Gentile noticed how much hair she had lost in the previous few days. Her remaining strawberry blonde wisps painfully reminded him of her mortality. Nevertheless, he found solace in the Lord’s promise that “a hair of [her] head shall not fall to the ground unnoticed” (Doctrine and Covenants 84:116).
“I felt that Jesus Christ was deeply aware of Hope’s journey—and our heartache,” said Brother Gentile. “He did ‘not leave [us] comfortless’ [John 14:18].”
During bedtime one evening as he read a board book to Hope, Brother Gentile asked in a silly voice, “What does the owl say?” Giggling, Hope replied, “Hoo, hoo!” Then he asked, “What does the cow say?” Hope proudly responded, “Moo, moo!”
At that moment, a picture of the Savior on the bedroom wall caught Brother Gentile’s attention. The Spirit prompted him to ask, “Hope, and what does Jesus say?”
As he waited for his daughter’s reply, she snuggled into his shoulder, opened her big blue eyes, and whispered, “‘Hold you.’ Jesus says, ‘Hold you.’”
Brother Gentile gently pulled Hope’s tiny body close and hugged her as he sobbed. As Hope hugged back with her tiny arms, she whispered, “Love you, Dada.”
God had given Brother Gentile and his family that moment for a special reason: “Jesus was holding our family in His loving arms,” he said. “Since that sacred night, I have pondered the tender truth God taught me through my daughter’s words: Jesus will hold us and bless us during our trials if we let Him. These blessings come according to His perfect time, way, and will, but they do come. I know these truths because the Holy Ghost helped me to feel them in Hope’s room on that dark night.”2
I am happy to report that the Gentile family’s faith and prayers were answered. Today, Hope is a healthy, happy 10-year-old.
Left: Hope after her fourth chemotherapy treatment in June 2015. Right: Hope at nine years old.

Locker Room Prayers—I asked Coach Landrum tonight if we could have prayer before our football games. We all just repeated the Lord’s Prayer, but we are united as a team. We don’t pray to win but to have the strength to be men on the field—using good sportsmanship, wishing no physical injury to either team, winning in the column of character and determination.
A Later Note: I played on many winning teams in elementary and high school. Never did I play on a team as united, as spirited, as our football team this year. It may be secondary that this was the first unbeaten, untied football season in our school’s history.

I have a sweet friend who some time ago found herself in such a state. I do not know, nor need I know, what her problem was, but she did summon the courage to go tearfully to her bishop to confess. A Church court was held. She was excommunicated and began the difficult process of repentance. Quite a long time later, after the spiritual healing had taken place and at the time of her baptism, she expressed great appreciation to a bishop who had shed tears of caring for her, even while being firm in the steps that must be taken; to a dear friend in Relief Society, who, she said, had helped her “to understand and forgive all those who couldn’t understand or forgive” her; to those who had helped to keep her testimony strong in those quiet, desperate times when “coming home again” seemed nearly impossible.

I recently had a note from this friend, married now in the temple with a lovely family. She says, “Tell the sisters that it is all worth it. Tell them how beautiful and joyful life can be when you keep the commandments.”

“Seven, six, five, four, three two, one—eight!” Carrie lifted her finger from her zoo-animal calendar and once more silently counted down the days before she’d be baptized. Today was Sunday, and in just seven more days she’d be eight years old and ready for baptism.
Today was really, really important, too, though, and maybe just a little bit scary because today she would have her baptism interview with the branch president. President Stevenson wasn’t unfriendly, but Carrie was worried he’d give her a test about the Articles of Faith or the Ten Commandments or something.
“Carrie,” Mom called, “it’s time to get up. Remember, your interview is right after sacrament meeting.”
Carrie slipped out of bed and onto her knees. During her prayer, a warm feeling came over her that everything would be OK. She remembered that it was the sort of calm feeling that Sister Cowan, her CTR-A teacher, had taught her could come to her through the Holy Ghost.
“Get out of my way,” Nathan growled later as he shoved past Carrie into the bathroom.
Wow! she thought, I hope he’s not going to be a real grump all day.
But Nathan was still scowling as he, Carrie, and Mom and Dad left for church.
“Good morning, Carrie. Big day coming up next week, right?” Carrie felt a familiar arm around her shoulder as Sister Cowan gave her a hug. “Your interview with President Stevenson is today, isn’t it? You’re really ready for baptism—I know you are.”
Sister Cowan always made Carrie feel special. But that warm feeling disappeared as “Nathan the Grump” came toward her.
Just then President Stevenson came out of the chapel. “I’ll be seeing you right after church, won’t I, Carrie?” he said with a big, warm smile.
Carrie nodded and smiled back. Maybe our visit will be OK, she thought.
Then President Stevenson smiled at Nathan. When Nathan didn’t smile back—as she had predicted, he was being a dedicated grump today—the branch president simply said, “Nathan, remember?”
Miracles really do happen, Carrie thought as Nathan’s face started to crinkle, then break into a full-fledged smile!
“I remember.” Nathan’s smile grew and lasted as he ambled off down the hall.
Did I see a miracle? Carrie wondered. And what did Nathan “remember”?
During sacrament meeting, Carrie glanced over at Judy, a Merrie Miss. Carrie thought that she always looked sort of sad. But now, as Judy looked up from her hymnbook, she broke into a smile! Following Judy’s gaze, Carrie saw President Stevenson smiling at Judy from the stand.
How can he make “Nathan the Grump” and “Sad Judy” smile when nobody else can? Carrie asked herself.
Soon the closing prayer had been given and everyone was milling around the foyer, visiting with each other.
“Carrie.” She felt a light hand on her shoulder. “Are you ready for our interview?”
Nodding, she followed the branch president to his office.
“I’m really glad we can visit today about your baptism,” President Stevenson told her. “Would it be OK if we started with a prayer?”
When he finished the prayer, he opened his scriptures and asked, “Do you remember when the Prophet Abinadi tried to teach King Noah about God? The only one in the king’s court who believed Abinadi was Alma. Upon his conversion, he gathered others and taught them the gospel. He said that for people to be ready for baptism, they should ‘mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places.’”*
As they talked about all that Alma had written, Carrie felt glad that Sister Cowan had discussed it all in her class.
When President Stevenson asked Carrie if she would be willing to do all that Alma said, she answered yes and really meant it.
“The next verses talk about a covenant between the people being baptized and God. Do you know what a covenant is?” President Stevenson asked.
Covenant? Oh no! This is the test, and I can’t remember what it is! “Well, uh, not really,” was all she could mumble.
“That’s OK, Carrie. Lots of people don’t really know. A covenant is an agreement, or promise, between two people. They agree, or covenant, that as long as one of them does what’s been agreed upon, the other is bound to do what he promised. Alma spoke of baptism as a covenant between us and God. If we agree to be baptized and always remember the Savior and keep His commandments, He agrees to send His spirit to always be with us. Do you understand this?”
“I guess so, sort of.”
The branch president smiled. “Maybe it’ll be easier to understand if you and I make a simple agreement, OK? Here’s our agreement: Whenever I see you, whether it’s here at church or someplace else, I promise that I will smile at you, even if I’m not feeling happy. But if I do that, then you have to promise that you’ll smile back at me, even if you’re not feeling like smiling. Do you think we can make that agreement?”
“OK. I can do that.”
“Good. Now, as a symbol of our agreement to smile, let’s shake hands.” Her small hand was smothered by his, but it felt warm and firm, not scary.
“Now just as our handshake was a symbol of our agreement, your baptism will be a symbol of the covenant—a very sacred agreement—that you are making with God. He’ll send you His Spirit if you take the name of Jesus Christ upon you by being baptized and remembering Him and obeying His commandments. The sacrament prayers will help you remember this sacred covenant that you are making with Heavenly Father. Do you understand better now?”
“Yes, President Stevenson.” Carrie beamed.
“I think that you’re prepared for your baptism, Carrie. Tell your parents I’d like to talk with them about arrangements for your baptismal service.”
She got up to leave, then turned back with a grin. “President Stevenson, have you made the smile agreement with the other kids who have been baptized?”
“Yes, I have. Everyone—even adults—who have been baptized in our branch since I’ve been branch president have made the same agreement with me. I think it helps everyone understand better what a covenant is, and every time we smile at each other, we remember just how sacred our baptism covenant is—their smiles show that they are happy to have made their covenants with Heavenly Father. Don’t you think so?”
Remembering Nathan and Judy, Carrie thought so too. She smiled as she hurried to find her parents.

“I’m so excited for recess!” Ally told Lauren as they put their lunch boxes back on the shelf in their classroom. “Tami just said we’re all going to play tag together on the playground today.”
“Fun!” Lauren said. “I love tag.”
Lauren was happy and surprised that Tami had invited Ally to play. Tami had always been mean to Ally. Lauren was glad she was finally trying to be nice.
“I need to take a book to the library first, so make sure they don’t start without me.” Ally smiled as she ran down the hall to the library.
Lauren raced out to the playground. When she got there, Tami was already gathering the other kids into a circle. Lauren ran over to join them.
“Hurry up, everyone!” Tami called as she motioned everyone into a tight huddle. “I have a fun idea I want to tell everyone before Ally gets out here.”
Lauren didn’t feel very good about this.
All the kids squeezed into the huddle to hear. “Instead of tagging everyone like we usually do,” Tami said, “let’s just tag Ally. But no one better tell her, or else!” Tami giggled. She seemed so proud of herself.
Lauren looked at the other kids in the circle. A lot of these kids hadn’t been nice to Ally since kindergarten. That’s when the kids really started being mean to Ally. They would make fun of her and tease her. Most times Tami started it and the other kids would follow.
Lauren had never liked how they treated Ally. She decided right then that she wouldn’t follow along with them. She knew everyone was a child of God and should be treated with kindness.
She took a deep breath and looked Tami in the eyes. “That doesn’t sound like a fun idea to me. I don’t think we should treat Ally like that. So I don’t want to play.”
Lauren walked out of the circle and started back toward the school alone to find Ally.
At least she thought she was alone.
Then she heard, “Hey, wait up!” Lauren turned around and there were most of the kids from Tami’s circle. She couldn’t believe it!
“Let’s go find Ally and start our own game of tag,” Damon said.
Lauren and Ally live in Canada. They are in high school now and are still great friends.
“I want to play too!” Lea said. The others nodded.
Lauren smiled. That awful feeling in her stomach was gone. “Good idea!” she said. “There’s Ally coming over right now.”
She turned and tapped Damon on the shoulder. “Tag, you’re it!” she yelled, then raced toward Ally. And all the kids came racing after.

Some time ago our friends asked if their son, John, and his girlfriend could stay at our place for a weeklong visit. John is less active, and his girlfriend is not a member of the Church. We let her have our son’s room and gave John a couch in the living room.
Before they arrived, we prayed to Heavenly Father, asking how we should present ourselves to them—as teachers, parents, or simply friends? The answer came that we needed to follow the promptings of the Spirit and help them spiritually.
Every evening my husband, son, and I sit down to study the scriptures. On the first evening with our guests, we felt that we should not invite them to study with us. But the next evening before scripture study, John shyly knocked on our door and said, “Mary is afraid to ask, but she would like to know if we can join you.”
We swung open the door, invited them in, and began studying the Book of Mormon together. Mary had never read scriptures before and did not know whether she believed in God. She admitted that when she came to our home, she had been afraid we might make her take part in something religious she did not understand.
To make Mary feel comfortable, my husband told her about the plan of salvation, the Savior Jesus Christ, Joseph Smith’s First Vision, and the Book of Mormon. She talked with us until midnight.
The next day, John and Mary joined us for a discussion with the missionaries. I will never forget the spirit that filled the room. After a simple discussion, we talked about the nature of our Heavenly Father. Then Mary asked why God allows suffering if He loves us, a question I had pondered for a long time.
Several days earlier I had received a letter from a friend who had miscarried her third child, so Mary’s question touched my heart. I testified that times of happiness and joy occasionally cannot teach us as deeply and eternally as times of personal tragedy. I told Mary that grief can temper us just as fire tempers iron. If we remain true to God while passing through trials, our faith will grow.
It was an unforgettable discussion. Afterward we sat silently while the Spirit testified of our Heavenly Father’s love. When Mary looked up, her eyes were bright and full of tears.
I do not know what will happen in the coming years, but I know for certain that the understanding I saw in Mary’s eyes that day will help her throughout her life and may help lead her to her Heavenly Father.

In closing, I would like to share with you one final personal experience about feeding the Lord’s sheep.

This is my faculty photo composed and taken by our campus photographer, Monique Saenz, and her crew. I always appreciate Monique’s work. She makes us all look great, and in this photo I look better than I ever usually do. But I’m not really showing you this photo to have you admire my looks. I want to share with you the backstory of this photo.

A short time before this faculty photo was taken, I had lost my husband to cancer, and his death left me tired, sad, and heartbroken.

I was serving as a counselor in our ward Relief Society presidency at the time of his death. One day, my Relief Society president and the other counselor in the presidency showed up at my door with a box. Inside the box were two beautiful dresses. I am wearing one of these dresses in this photo. I was literally clothed in charity…in the charity of these two dear sisters.

Because of this, the photo serves to remind me of the kindness and love of these sisters, and also of the many other acts of charity that were shown to me and my family at this difficult time. My colleagues, including faculty, staff and administrators, and students at this university, and also our extended family members in our community, helped me in so many ways, teaching my classes, visiting me and my family, providing food and service at our home, and offering kind words of love and comfort. I cannot begin to completely list all that was done in service at that time, but I remember it all, and have thanked the Lord many times for what was offered by so many.

Football season begins early in Alaska, USA. For seniors Vili T. and his twin brother, Josh, the first regular season game in 2012 took place on August 11. The regular season ended at the end of September. That’s because in this far-northern state, winter comes early. Just a few miles from the high school, blue-white glaciers reach right down into the ocean. And bald eagles and bears feast on the salmon.
Holding practice in 55-degree (12.8°C) weather is not uncommon, even in the summer. Vili and Josh do it because they love athletics.
“We’re always near each other,” says Vili, referring to the fact that he plays quarterback and Josh plays running back. But the two of them are leaders off the field too. There are only 15 or so members of the Church in their school, so they really stand out. Setting the example for others means constantly making choices to be strong—and humble—and the rewards have been tangible.
“People here are pretty accepting of Latter-day Saints,” Josh says. “Sometimes they make jokes, or they try to get us to do stuff on Sundays. But they all know we have Mutual on Tuesdays so they shouldn’t expect us at football.”
Vili adds, “Sometimes they try to get us to do things we shouldn’t do. We just say no. Sometimes we teach them the gospel or share the Book of Mormon with them. It’s pretty fun to share the gospel.”
The brothers learned early on that it’s not always easy being different.
“In middle school, our friends started making choices” to do things that weren’t in keeping with the gospel, Josh explains. “We had to separate ourselves a little bit. In high school, I saw my friends make bad choices. That’s when I realized I’m grateful for who I am and the choices I’ve made.”
“As a freshman,” Vili adds, “I looked to some of the older football players as my heroes. After they graduated, I saw some of them make some really wrong choices. But one of them, my cousin Paul, served a mission.” When Vili compared the two types of examples set by the older players, he had a moment where the Spirit gave him understanding about who he wanted to be and what he wanted to do with his life. “Then I knew for sure that the gospel is true. I knew that if I stick with the gospel and keep my standards, then I can live with Heavenly Father again.”
During the summer of 2012, Vili and Josh attended an Aaronic Priesthood camp sponsored by their stake. The twins’ cousin, a young deacon, started teasing one of the older young men, which led to a scuffle. Vili quickly ran over and pulled them apart.
“I didn’t know the whole story,” Vili says. “I had a hardness in my heart. I was so mad.”
He nearly lost his temper and hit the other young man, but one of the adult leaders intervened. Vili recalls, “He said to me, ‘You hold the priesthood. You are an example. What happens if you hit him? You won’t feel the same and the others won’t look at you the same.’”
Vili had been asked to be a leader at the camp, where the theme was missionary preparation. Vili had prayed that the young men in his ward would feel the Spirit and want to serve missions. To help them commit, Vili had encouraged them to sign their names on a banner testifying that they would serve missions. All of them, including Vili, had signed it. Because of his commitment, he knew he had a responsibility to uphold.
“That night I prayed about [how I had reacted to the older young man] for a long time,” he says. “I realized that if I had gotten in a fight, I would have been kicked out of camp, and my life would have gone down from there. I didn’t want that. I repented. The next day, I was side-by-side with that boy—as friends.”
As a Church member, you have to focus on what it means to set the example. Sometimes that means choosing to be humble and repenting, even when you don’t want to.
Josh says, “It’s like football. People come at you, like temptations. You dodge, you go forward. And if you get hit, just as it is with sin, you have to get up and get ready for the next play.”

I relate a story of a young man of great potential. I first became acquainted with him while serving as his stake president. He was intelligent and confident, a good athlete, tall and handsome with a keen sense of humor, and even an Eagle Scout. He was a leader among his peers and served a successful mission, returning home to further his education. He received his Bachelor's degree from Brigham Young University and in the process fell in love and married a beautiful young woman in the Salt Lake Temple. He entered another institution of higher learning and obtained a Juris Doctorate. His hard work and diligence were rewarded with an outstanding business opportunity with a prestigious law firm. Life was bright and exciting!
He had it all! A wonderful wife, the perfect job, the gospel and two beautiful children. He had done all that anyone could expect from a worthy priesthood holder of his age. However, over the next few years, I detected changes in his personality. He began to be somewhat combative, arrogant, prideful, and not as tolerant of other's shortcoming. His testimony showed signs of waning as he questioned the doctrines of the church--doctrines that he previously embraced. And despite the best efforts of those who loved him, I watch him gradually cast off his stable anchor and drift into a stormy sea on his own merits. This young man thought he could ascend that corporate ladder faster by compromising his principles, after all, he was in control. Then came the social drinking, accompanied by improper relationships with women in the work place, and over the next few years, his boat capsized, if you will, his anchor was gone! He lost his eternal family, his testimony, his employment and his ability to have the companionship of the Holy Spirit. Now he is a broken man left to wallow in his own miserable sin.

It had been an especially happy day for Milo. When his father and mother came in to say good-night to him, Milo tried to tell them about all the understandings he had gathered in the different countries they had visited.
“But now,” he said wistfully, “I guess all that will end when we go back home.”
“Oh no, Milo,” Father assured him. “As long as you have a sense of discovery and a desire to know more about other people, there will always be something to learn.”
Mother agreed. And then she added, “No matter where we live we can collect bits of knowledge and add to our understanding.”
Milo lay in bed thinking about the many things he had learned in the different Scandinavian countries. He would never forget his wonderful friends there.