Gospel Story Finder

“No. I had a similar experience at a summer job one year. For a while the rapport with my fellow workers was not great. But after a few days of excusing myself after dinner when the cards came out, one of my fellow workers asked me why I didn’t play. Maybe I avoided the issue, but I said that I enjoyed walking outside or reading a book or writing a letter more. She came with me the next day, and by the end of the summer all of us were eating our lunches outside in the sun, and we became close friends. They have said several times since that summer was more fun and that the days went faster when they used their lunch break to appreciate others and nature.”
Ann Bradley, Age 22Edmonton, Alberta, Canada

Several years ago I heard Elder Gerald N. Lund of the Quorum of the Seventy describe a magazine article about a school that taught people how to rock climb. The article discussed the concept of belaying—the fail-safe system that protects climbers. One climber gets into a safe position, fastens the rope securely in a fixed position, then calls to his companion, “You’re on belay”—meaning, “I’ve got you.” The director of the school, Alan Czenkusch, described his experience with belaying to the author of the article:

Belaying has brought Czenkusch his best and worst moments in climbing. Czenkusch once fell from a high precipice, yanking out three mechanical supports and pulling his belayer off a ledge. He was stopped, upside down, 10 feet from the ground when his spread-eagled belayer arrested the fall with the strength of his outstretched arms.

“Don saved my life,” says Czenkusch. “How do you respond to a guy like that? Give him a used climbing rope for a Christmas present? No, you remember him. You always remember him.” [In Eric G. Anderson, “The Vertical Wilderness,” Private Practice, November 1979, 21]

One day when they had very little to eat, Agnes’s mother sold a quilt and a bedspread and used the money to buy food. She often traded trinkets and gifts to the Native Americans for dried meat, which proved to be a great help, especially when the cold wind was blowing and they couldn’t build a fire to cook food. On such days, she would give each of her children a piece of dried meat and some bread. Sometimes she took a small piece of meat and made a stew, thickening it with a little flour and some salt. It tasted so good on a cold night!
Agnes marveled as she watched her mother find a way to bake food out on the prairie. Mother dug a hole in the ground, placed the food in a heavy iron kettle with a tight lid, then set it in the hole and covered it with burning buffalo chips or small pieces of wood. She prepared many meals in this way.

One bishop shared a similar experience with me. One Sunday, he had had an unusually heavy day of interviews, meetings, and visits. It was near 10:30 P.M. when he had a chance to walk through the chapel past the pulpit. He felt so overwhelmed with the weight of his responsibilities that he dropped to his knees in the dimly lighted chapel and plead with God for strength to carry the load. While praying, a voice came to his mind: “Bishop, you’re so tired! Why don’t you go home and go to bed?” The thought startled him at first, but as he reflected on it, he knew it was as direct an answer to prayer as the ones he received when praying about whom to call to Church positions.

Early in 2002, my mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer. A few days later, my husband was also diagnosed with cancer. These were some dark, difficult days for us as we tried to handle the challenges we faced. It would have been easy to do what Job was encouraged to do: curse God and die—ignoring our commitments to the Lord and others and wallowing in despair. However, even when our circumstances change, our commitment to the Lord must not change. There is no sliding scale. We cannot get a rain check or opt out from our commitments, even for a time. We must stay on track and be lifted up by Jesus’ example. Putting our trust in the Lord and following His example is the best way to endure the trials of life and keep our commitments.

Craig Symes was just another locker-room attendant at the health spa I went to when my wife Sue and I lived in St. Petersburg, Florida. He looked like your average 16-year-old—average height, average brown hair. He had the typical teenager’s souped-up car and a nice girlfriend. But while he seemed like an average teenager in many respects, as I got to know him, I found that he was anything but average. And my relationship with him didn’t turn out to be quite what I expected.

There was something about Craig’s eyes and his smile that attracted people. I noticed how friendly and polite he was to everyone and that he never cursed. He always seemed to go out of his way to help people. I was attracted by his genuineness. We talked in the locker room about cars, his girlfriend, sports, our families, and religion. Here was an area where Craig wasn’t average. He wasn’t afraid to talk about religion as many people are.

One day we were discussing the importance of families, and I told him about the death of my father when I was 21. Craig told me a little about eternal life, which made sense to me because I had always hoped to be able to see my father again. I was surprised by Craig’s knowledge of religion and his willingness to talk about it.

I wanted my wife to get to know Craig, so I invited him to dinner. “If I go to your house for dinner will you come to church with me?” he asked. My wife and I were devout members of another faith, but I thought I’d accept his friendly gesture.

Two weeks later on a rainy Sunday morning, I attended church with Craig. I didn’t know anything about the LDS church at that time. Craig introduced me to a lot of “brothers” and to two missionaries who sat next to me during the meeting. The friendliness and warmth of those at the meeting made me feel comfortable. Many introduced themselves and welcomed me there. The lesson was on eternal life. I was impressed that the lesson was taught on a basic principle that I could follow.

Afterward we went to my house and had breakfast with Sue. We visited awhile and then Craig left. The rest of the day was a pretty average Sunday—the last one we’d have for quite a while. That evening the missionaries called and wanted to know when they could come by and share a special message about the Church with Sue and me. I asked them to come by on Tuesday evening.

When I hung up, Sue wanted to know what was going on. I told her that the missionaries were going to come visit us, and she was not very excited. But Tuesday, when she answered the door and let Elders Zaugg and Lewis in, along with Craig and his friend Steve, a good feeling came over her and she wanted to listen to what they had to say.

The missionaries taught us about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. We asked so many questions that the first discussion lasted four hours. We were interested in hearing more and set a date for another discussion. Craig and his friend Steve always came with the missionaries and joined in our discussions.

I still wanted to get to know Craig better, so a few days later as I was getting ready to leave the spa, I asked him to play tennis with me one morning. He said he couldn’t play in the mornings because he had seminary meetings at 5 A.M. I asked him what seminary was and he explained. I said, “Oh, you have to go.” He said, “No, I want to go.”

I wanted to know what made a class so interesting that a 16-year-old would get up at 4:30 in the morning to get there on time. It intrigued me that Craig would make such an effort to learn about the gospel of Jesus Christ. So I started going to seminary with him.

The seminary teacher wasn’t afraid to let a 28-year-old man get involved with the class right from the beginning. The first day I joined in the scripture chase, although I didn’t have any idea where the book of Alma was. By my second visit I knew most of the students by name. I started attending seminary with Craig every day. More than just learning, I was receiving of their great spirit. I couldn’t believe that youth were so excited about church. I caught their enthusiasm.

Sue and I continued our discussions with the missionaries, and six weeks later we decided to be baptized. Our families were against the decision. We received a letter from my brother trying to dissuade us. The local officials of the church we had attended called us, and my mother also called 15 minutes before we left for our baptism. But we were committed to our decision. We knew it was the right thing for us to do. Craig baptized us.

I am grateful that a 16-year-old member of the Church caught the vision of “every member a missionary.” Craig brought happiness and joy into our lives, mostly by setting a proper example among both his friends and those that came in contact with him. He wasn’t afraid to let others know that he is a member of the Church of Jesus Christ. He wasn’t afraid to be more than average and just a little out of the ordinary.

Micah’s very first word was “Why?” From that day on, he asked questions. He asked about clouds, rainbows, rivers, and trees. He asked about books, trains, kings, and skyscrapers.
He liked to think about new things. His mom and dad couldn’t keep up with all the answers he needed. They even bought encyclopedias so that they could look up answers they weren’t sure about. And then one day, when Micah was seven, he asked a very important question: “Mom, how do I know for sure that Heavenly Father is real?”
Mom put down the jar of baby food she’d just taken from the fridge and turned to smile at him. “I’m glad you’re thinking about that, Micah. It’s only a few months until you’ll be old enough to be baptized, and it’s important to know about the promises you’ll be making. Knowing about Heavenly Father is the first step.”
“Oh, I know about Him, Mom. I’ve had lots of Primary lessons, and we’ve read about Him in the scriptures. But how do I find out if it’s really true?”
Mom sat down at the kitchen table and looked Micah right in the eye. “If you want a testimony of your own, you’ll have to do some hard work. You’ve seen lots of people stand up on fast Sunday and bear their testimonies. They tell what they believe.”
“Oh, yeah, like how Sister Thomas always talks about how she loves the temple, and Brother Matsom always cries when he gets to the part about Jesus.”
“Right. And have you noticed how you feel when people are bearing their testimonies?”
“Sometimes I feel warm and happy inside.”
“That’s the Holy Ghost telling you that you are hearing something true. If you want to find your own testimony, you’ll have to pray and ask for help, you’ll have to remember to study your scriptures, and you’ll have to try very hard to keep the commandments so that Heavenly Father will know that you are serious about wanting an answer.”
“I can do that.”
For the next two weeks, Micah’s mom and dad were amazed at how hard Micah worked. He played happily with his brother, Sam, and didn’t get angry. He watched his baby sister while Mom talked with her visiting teachers. He even picked up his toys the first time he was asked. When Dad sat down in the evening before bed to read the Book of Mormon with him, Micah tried very hard to listen and even sounded out a lot of the words himself. But one night Micah didn’t seem happy.
“Is something bothering you, Son?”
“Dad, I’ve been trying for two weeks now. I’ve been really, really good. I’ve read. I’ve prayed. And I’ve been nice! But I still don’t know if Heavenly Father is real or not.”
Dad nodded. “I can understand why you’re frustrated. Sometimes Heavenly Father makes us wait a little while for our answers so that when they do come, they mean more to us.”
“Why would He make me wait? I want to know if He’s real. If I don’t get an answer, then He must not be real.”
Dad put his arm around Micah. “Why don’t we see if there’s an answer in the scriptures?” He opened the Book of Mormon to Ether 12:6 and read, “‘faith is things which are hoped for and not seen; wherefore, dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith.’”
“What’s a trial?” Micah asked. “Mom got a squishy little packet of shampoo in the mail last week that said ‘trial’ on it, but I don’t see how washing my hair is going to help.”
“Well,” Dad said, “That little packet is so a person like your mom can try out a new shampoo and see if she likes it before she buys a big bottle. Mom gives the shampoo a trial so that she can see if it does what she wants it to. When Heavenly Father gives us a trial, it’s kind of like that. He wants to see if we do what He wants us to, even if it’s hard.”
“So Heavenly Father is waiting to see if I’m going to give up or not?”
“A testimony is one of the most important things He can give you. If you were going to give someone a very special present, wouldn’t you want to make sure that person really wanted it and would take care of it?”
“Yes, I guess so.”
“There are all kinds of miracles, Micah. Some of them are big and flashy, like Moses parting the Red Sea, but most of them are quiet, and the quietest of all is when the Holy Ghost talks to us about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. Be patient, Son, and listen carefully.”
That night, long after everyone had gone to bed, Micah had a nightmare. It was terrible, and Micah woke up afraid to move. He was too scared to go into Mom and Dad’s room, too scared even to cry out for them to come to him. As he huddled under his blanket, he wondered what he could do to feel better. Last Sunday, his Primary teacher had told his class that when you are very afraid, you should pray for comfort.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” he whispered, “I really need help. I’ve tried very hard to find out if You’re there, and I know I’m supposed to be patient, but I can’t wait any longer. I’m scared.”
As soon as Micah finished his prayer, he heard a noise in the hall. Suddenly the bathroom light switched on, and Dad peeked around the edge of Micah’s bedroom door.
“Are you all right?” Dad said softly. “All of a sudden I woke up, and I’m sure I heard a voice say, ‘Micah needs you.’ What happened?”
“I had a really bad dream, Dad.”
“Oh? Why the big smile then?”
“When I was scared, Heavenly Father heard my prayer and woke you up. He has to be real because He helped me when I asked. You know, it doesn’t matter if it’s not a big, flashy miracle as long as it’s just what you need.”
Dad sat on the edge of Micah’s bed and hugged him tightly. “That’s right, Micah,” he said. “That’s right.”

Robert was in third grade when he designed his first website and has since been teaching himself more about computers and programming.
How did you learn about programming and computer design? My older brother Steven, who is in college now, was into computers, and I saw him programming and making websites, and I thought that was pretty cool. So he probably got me interested in computers and programming, and from there I just taught myself.

On Monday morning I went to school, where I am one of only five Church members among 1,200 students. A group of boys approached me and invited me to be a member of their group. I was outnumbered. They had body piercings and were taller and bigger than most kids. They bullied those who didn’t join them.
I’m also bigger than most kids, and I considered joining the group because I am shy. I thought that being part of a group would make up for my shyness. I asked them, “Can I think it over first?” They said yes.
I asked my parents for their opinion. They said I should pray and read the scriptures. Before I went to sleep, I read the scriptures and For the Strength of Youth. It says, “Choose friends who share your values so you can strengthen and encourage each other in living high standards” ([2001], 12). I also prayed for help: “Are they the right friends for me?”
The next morning during class, I opened my wallet-size For the Strength of Youth pamphlet. I read it again and knew what I had to answer. When they asked me, “So now will you join our group?” I said, without a doubt, “No.”
They asked me why not, and I simply said I didn’t want to get body piercings or to use my strength to hurt others. I said I wanted to be nice to everybody by following Jesus Christ. They looked at me as if to say, “You are wasting an opportunity to have popular friends.”
Today I have a group of friends who are different from that gang. My friends are good students, look clean, and behave well. Now I know that if I seek our Heavenly Father’s help, He will help me.

We had been struggling with our family scripture study. Getting our children to pay attention was difficult, so we tried this technique as a family. My husband and I took turns reading general conference talks out loud to the family, and when we got to a scripture, we called it out. When our children found it, everyone marked it and then one of them read it. As we did so, our kids were poised on the edge of their seats, scriptures and pencils in hand. When we ended, they said, “Oh, please, can’t we do just one more scripture?” We finished our scripture study by singing a hymn. As we got ready to sing the closing song, we showed our children how they could look up scriptures in the back of the hymnbook. They found one of the scriptures we had marked, and we sang a song that reinforced the gospel principle we had studied. It was truly meaningful scripture study!
Donna Macurdy Nielson, Virginia, USA

Ever since he was a child, Joseph knew he could rely on his oldest brother. Alvin was twenty-five years old now and could have acquired his own farm if he wanted. But he had chosen to stay on the family farm to help his parents get settled and secure on their land as they got older. He was serious and hardworking, and Joseph loved and admired him immensely.24

Maybe Moroni felt that Joseph needed his brother’s wisdom and strength to become the kind of person the Lord could trust with the plates.

Returning home that evening, Joseph was tired. But his family crowded around him as soon as he came through the door, eager to know what he had found at the hill. Joseph started to tell them about the plates, but Alvin interrupted when he noticed how weary Joseph looked.

“Let us go to bed,” he said, “and we will get up early in the morning and go to work.” They would have plenty of time tomorrow to hear the rest of Joseph’s story. “If Mother will get our suppers early,” he said, “we will then have a fine long evening and all sit down and hear you talk.”25

The next evening, Joseph shared what had happened at the hill, and Alvin believed him. As the oldest son in the family, Alvin had always felt responsible for his aging parents’ physical welfare. He and his brothers had even started building a larger house for the family so they could be more comfortable.

Now it seemed Joseph was looking after their spiritual welfare. Night after night he captivated the family with talk of the gold plates and the people who wrote them. The family grew closer together, and their home was peaceful and happy. Everyone felt that something wonderful was about to happen.26

Then one autumn morning, less than two months after Moroni’s visit, Alvin came home with an intense pain in his stomach. Bent over in agony, he begged his father to call for help. When a doctor finally arrived, he gave Alvin a large dose of a chalky medicine, but it only made things worse.

Alvin lay in bed for days, writhing in pain. Knowing he would probably die, he called for Joseph. “Do everything that lies in your power to obtain the records,” Alvin said. “Be faithful in receiving instruction and keeping every commandment that is given you.”27

He died a short time later, and sorrow settled over the house. At the funeral, a preacher all but said Alvin had gone to hell, using his death to warn others of what would happen unless God intervened to save them. Joseph Sr. was furious. His son had been a good young man, and he could not believe that God would damn him.28

With Alvin gone, talk of the plates ended. He had been such a staunch supporter of Joseph’s divine call that any mention of them brought his death to mind. The family could not bear it.

Joseph missed Alvin terribly and took his death especially hard. He had hoped to rely on his oldest brother to help him get the record. Now he felt forsaken.29

Kate T., in California, USA, is like most other high school students. She spends a lot of time studying for her classes and playing sports. “High school, by design, is a lot of thinking about yourself,” she says. But she’s learned it’s important to take time to think outside yourself. So she decided to start a service club at her school.
Kate applied to the school administration for a Just Serve Club (linked with the website JustServe.org and the Just Serve app). But she got some pushback, and the club application was rejected. It took more effort, but Kate and some friends were able to get the club started.
At first the club had about 25 people and were able to do about 15 projects a year. They meet regularly at school during a lunch hour, and they do at least one service project a month. For example, they have cleaned up a beach, packed boxes at the local food bank, and decorated a youth shelter for Christmas.
Now Kate works together with her friend Anna Q. and a club council to plan projects. Council members are recruited from the high school and represent a diverse group of different faiths.
“Our projects usually come from the Just Serve app,” says Anna. Once the council chooses a project, the details are planned and shared with club members during a meeting and on the club’s social media page.
The club has grown, and now the group is able to work on many more projects to benefit the community.
Something Kate and Anna have discovered is the personal benefit of service. “The more you do to give back to your community, the closer you are going to feel to the Savior,” says Kate. “When you can look outside yourself and think about the Savior, you will feel His Spirit because that is what His whole life was about.”
Anna has found there is more happiness in serving others. “My love for those around me increases every time I serve alongside or for someone,” she says. And service has helped strengthen her relationship with Heavenly Father and the Savior. “The more I serve like Christ did, the more I become like Him and feel His love.”

Brigham’s search for religious integrity was a long one. Even though, like Joseph Smith, he was brought up on the frontier “amid those flaming, fiery revivals so customary with the Methodists,” Brigham, also like Joseph, held aloof from his parents’ church. He later said, “Priests had urged me to pray before I was eight years old. On this subject I had but one prevailing feeling in my mind—Lord, preserve me until I am old enough to have sound judgment, and a discreet mind ripened upon a good solid foundation of common sense.”15
These were the keys—judgment, discretion, common sense. In the Methodist camp meetings, Brigham said, “I had seen men and women fall, and be as speechless and breathless as that stove before me” as a result of “what they called the power of God”; though he was unwilling to deny their sincerity, because of their excesses these people’s ideas “did not commend themselves to my understanding.”16 Instead, though he continued to visit the meetings of different churches—from the formal Episcopalians to the evangelistic Freewill Baptists, Reformed Methodists, and the gently moralistic Quakers—he seems to have turned, like many in more modern times, from the arid contentions, the mutually contradictory dogmatic claims of the traditional churches, and the self-indulgent extremes of the dissenting groups and tried simply to be a moral, hardworking, loving husband and father.
During the mid-20s when his first daughter was born, Brigham farmed in the summer, pursued his various handskills in the winter, was even employed for a while in a woolen mill and also a paint factory, where he used the cannonball his father had carried home with him from the Revolutionary War to grind the paint. Elder S. Dilworth Young reports a family tradition that Brigham invented an ingenious “water-powered pigment crusher,” with the cannonball “as the pestle to an iron pot mortar,” thus saving a good deal of work and time.17 However, he found that to succeed as a painter in the area where he lived, he would have to adulterate the linseed oil like his competitors. Unwilling to do so, he moved to Oswego, on Lake Ontario, and built a large tannery and then to Mendon, where he had his own carpentry shop. There a second daughter was born.
Brigham’s daughter Susa tells us that he once remarked about this period of his life that “he worked for half a crown a day [perhaps 65 cents] when he could not get more; got breakfast for his wife [who was ill with tuberculosis] and the little girls, dressed the children, cleaned up the house, carried his wife to the rocking-chair by the fireplace and left her there until he could return in the evening. When he came home he cooked his own and the family’s supper, put his wife back to bed and finished up the day’s domestic labours.”18
It seems clear, however, that Brigham was not able to be satisfied with merely a moral, hardworking life. He must have yearned for spiritual and emotional fulfillment, for some response to nagging questions about life’s meaning, about the potential and future of human beings. We know this because over 30 years later, a Methodist minister, Hiram McKee, who had been Brigham’s friend in Oswego, wrote reminding him of the times when Brigham had been his friend and fellow seeker after truth there in Western New York: “I have not forgotten your advice, counsel, prayers. My confidence was great in you, in view of your deep piety, and faith in God. You was one of my early spiritual friends, and guides.”
Reverend McKee went on to wonder, on the basis of the scandalous reports in Eastern papers he had been reading, “if Brigham enjoyed as much piety now as then, or whether ambition, and love of power, and distinction did not hold some sway in that mind that was once so humble, contrite and devoted. … O, my brother how is it? How sweet was our communion in Old Oswego, how encouraging our prayers, and enlivening our songs we used to sing. … Now Brother Brigham, before the all-seeing God, who in the judgement will judge us, can you lay your hand on your heart and say that your hope of heaven is as good as then?”19
Brigham assured the good Reverend that he was “as honest a seeker after truth as I was during our acquaintance in Oswego.”20 He and Miriam, as a young married couple, had apparently joined with McKee in a little group of independent “seekers,” and may have done so in the other towns where they lived. We know they did with Brigham’s brothers and father when they moved to Mendon in 1829. Phineas Young, who was the leader of the group, described it thus: “We … opened a house for preaching, and commenced teaching the people according to the light we had; a reformation commenced, and we soon had a good society organized, and the Lord blessed our labors.”21 Such groups were, of course, common on the American frontier, and many tended to be “restorationist” in character, seeking through close study of the New Testament to learn what Christ’s original Church was like and to conform exactly in teaching and practice. Thus it was from such groups that many of the early converts to Mormonism came. Mormonism itself claimed to be the full restoration of Christ’s teachings and his church as described in the Bible, though it required in addition to those beliefs that converts accept the divine authority and prophetic calling of Joseph Smith, which was most directly witnessed by the Book of Mormon.
That same brother, Phineas, was the first of the Young family to see the Book of Mormon, though even before it was published, they had all heard and read of the Prophet “Joe Smith” and his “gold Bible” over in Palmyra less than 15 miles away. In April 1830, Phineas was given one of the first copies by the Prophet’s brother Samuel, and because he felt responsible to his little religious society to expose any such things “got up to lead people astray,” he read it carefully. But he could not find the errors he expected, and when he appeared before the group the next Sabbath, quite certainly with Brigham present, he “had not spoken ten minutes in defence of the book when the Spirit of God came upon me in a marvelous manner, and I spoke at great length on the importance of such a work, quoting from the Bible to support my position, and finally closing by telling the people that I believed the book.”22
Phineas lent his copy of the Book of Mormon to his father, who thought it “the greatest work he had ever seen,” then to his sister Fanny, who declared it “a revelation.” Fanny passed it on to Brigham, who was more reserved:
“When the Book of Mormon was first printed, it came to my hands in two or three weeks afterwards. Did I believe, on the first intimation of it? … ‘Hold on,’ says I. … The mantle of my traditions was over me, to that degree, … it was almost impossible for me to see at all; though I had beheld, all my life, that the traditions of the people was all the religion they had, I had got a mantle for myself. Says I, ‘Wait a little while; what is the doctrine of the book, and of the revelations the Lord has given? Let me apply my heart to them;’ and after I had done this, I considered it my right to know for myself, as much as any man on earth.
“I examined the matter studiously for two years before I made up my mind to receive that book. … I wished time sufficient to prove all things for myself.”23
On another, later occasion Brigham further explained this reserve:
“Upon the first opportunity I read the Book of Mormon, and then sought to become acquainted with the people who professed to believe it. … I watched to see whether good common sense was manifest; and if they had that, I wanted them to present it in accordance with the Scriptures. … when I had ripened everything in my mind, I drank it in, and not till then.”24
“Examine,” “prove all things for myself,” “good common sense,” “ripened”—all certainly good, rational approaches, and characteristic of Brigham with his down-to-earth Yankee skepticism and his well-learned wariness of religious extremes. But just as characteristic, though more hidden perhaps, was his need and desire to “apply his heart” to these new and attractive teachings, and after about a year and a half, that is how he was finally moved to action. He was visited by a group of Mormon missionaries from Columbia, Pennsylvania, one of whom sat him down and bore his testimony to him:
“When I saw a man without eloquence, or talents for public speaking, who could only say, ‘I know, by the power of the Holy Ghost, that the Book of Mormon is true, that Joseph Smith is a prophet of the Lord,’ the Holy Ghost proceeding from that individual illuminated my understanding, and light, glory and immortality were before me. I was encircled by them, filled with them, and I knew for myself that the testimony of the man was true. … My own judgment, natural endowments, and education bowed to this simple, but mighty testimony. … It filled my system with light, and my soul with joy.”25
From Brigham’s many statements about this experience, it is clear that this direct testimony was so effective because it completed and fulfilled—rather than crudely contradicted—what Brigham’s own “judgment, natural endowments, and education” had helped him to yearn for and helped him find in the Book of Mormon and the people who believed it. After all the partial fulfillments and disappointments of his long search, the flood or famine of emotionality, the intellectuality without common sense, the call to good works without motivating power, the guilt and anxiety without any basis for the self-esteem necessary for a successful process of repentance—after all this, everything began to come together for him in Mormonism.
Shortly after this crucial meeting, Brigham went, with his brother Phineas and Heber Kimball, to the missionaries’ home branch of the Church in Columbia:
“We conversed with them, attended their meetings and heard them preach, and after staying about one week we returned home, being still more convinced of the truth of the work, and anxious to learn its principles and to learn more of Joseph Smith’s mission. The members of the Branch in Pennsylvania were the first in the Church who received the gift of tongues.”26

David’s heart thumped loudly in his chest, and he sat straight up in bed. Faint moonlight streamed through the bedroom window, leaving gray shadows on the walls. The only sound came from his brother Thomas’s heavy breathing as he lay asleep.
It had been only a dream. Two Indians had come into the yard. When David saw them, he ran to the house for protection. One of them drew an arrow from his quiver and shot at David, hitting him in the back. Then they entered his home, sneering at his mother and frightening her.
Although it had been a dream, it seemed real. David rubbed his back where the arrow had hit him in the dream. He had felt the blow.
After that David became very afraid at night. Thoughts of people trying to hurt his mother and younger brothers and sisters seemed real to him.
One day David found his father packing a satchel. “Why are you packing, Papa?” David asked.
“I’ll be gone with the cattle for a few days,” his father answered. “Don’t worry. It won’t be long. I’ll just be moving them to some fresh pasture.”
“I don’t want you to go,” David said.
“Everything will be all right,” his father replied. “I’ll be back in a few days.”
David watched sadly as his father took his satchel to the front gate where his horse was tied. After waving good-bye to the family, he rode off after the cattle. David felt sick inside. He tried not to worry, hoping everything would be all right like his father had said. But as evening drew near and the sun went down, his worries grew.
After supper the family prepared for bed. When they had all knelt down at their bedsides and said their prayers, they snuggled under the covers to go to sleep. But David couldn’t sleep. His heart pounded, and his mind raced. Through the open doorway of his bedroom, he could see his mother going to her bedroom.
At last his mother blew out the candle and went to sleep. But David still couldn’t close his eyes. He thought he heard noises around the house. His brother Thomas slept soundly, but the fear in David’s heart grew. What could he do? Tears trickled onto his pillow. The palms of his hands were sweaty, and he could still hear the noises around the house.
David decided to pray as his parents had taught him. He was sure the Lord would help him, but he had one problem: kneeling by the side of his bed. How could he leave the safety of his bed to kneel and pray? What if someone was hiding beneath his bed?
David knew that the only way he would be able to sleep was if he prayed to the Lord for help. At last he slowly climbed out of bed onto his knees. He asked the Lord to protect his mother and his family. All the noises died away, and a calm feeling entered David’s heart. A voice spoke clearly to him, saying, “Don’t be afraid. Nothing will hurt you.” David felt the sweet assurance that he would be safe in bed at night.
Snuggling under his covers, David fell asleep. He didn’t worry at night anymore. Even though it had been a difficult test for him to get out of bed and kneel to pray, he had prayed the way he knew he should. And the Lord answered his prayer.

My parents always felt that it was important for me to get an education. When I was a junior in high school, I wanted to buy a car. It was the prettiest car I’d ever seen, a white 1950 Oldsmobile convertible, and its price was four hundred dollars. I had just four hundred dollars in my bank account. This is going to work out great, I thought.

When I told my mom about my plan, she asked, “How will you get to college?” Then she said, “I believe that if you will save your money and go to college, you will be able to buy an even nicer car.” I thought and prayed about it and decided that she was right. I saved my money and went on to college. Then, when I had finished the “twenty-second grade” and had my bachelor’s, master’s, and doctoral degrees, I bought an old classic convertible. I still drive this car. It reminds me that if you are patient, follow good counsel, and follow the Spirit’s guidance to do what’s right, there will be all kinds of rewards.

Buying and acquiring things when you are young is unwise. Invest in yourself with education. And the kind of education we will need most through the eternities is spiritual.

4. Allow opportunities for personal growth and encourage your children to do things for themselves. One role of parents is to help their children be confident, capable, and self-sufficient. This training process is a natural and gradual one; it begins when the child is very young. When he learns a new task, he wants to perform it over and over again. If he is restrained, he may vent his frustrations loudly. For example, Mrs. Anderson was puzzled at first when Kathleen, age one, suddenly went into a screaming tantrum when she was being undressed for bed. Then she realized she had pulled off Kathleen’s socks rather than waiting for her to do it herself. Only after she put the socks on her again and let her remove them was Kathleen happy again. Who would imagine that the need to feel capable could be apparent at such an early age!

While I was a student here, I met someone who changed my life forever. My husband, Sione. He was kind, funny, steady, full of love, and extremely good-looking. Together, we built a beautiful life and were blessed with three incredible children: Lose, Aisake, and Eveline. Shortly after my husband and I got married, we moved back to Tonga.

And something interesting happened. I began to see my own BYU–Hawaii experience differently. I started meeting young students who were preparing to leave Tonga for the very first time to attend BYU–Hawaii. And every time I talked to them, I saw myself.

I saw the fear. The uncertainty. The excitement. The homesickness they did not even know was coming yet. I remembered what it felt like to arrive here not knowing how to navigate life in a completely different culture.

So, I felt strongly that we needed to prepare students before they ever stepped on a plane. Not just academically. But emotionally, socially, and spiritually.

I remember one of the first groups I worked with in Tonga. At first, they were so shy. I could barely get anyone to talk. You would ask a question and get complete silence. I thought, “Oh no… how are these students going to survive in classroom discussions, let alone how are they going to be able to ask someone on a date when they can’t even speak?”

So, we started doing activities together. Instead of preparing individually, we started preparing as a group. I intentionally grouped students traveling during the same semester together because I hoped they would build relationships before arriving on campus.

In many ways, we were trying to create the same kind of community many of us found at the Aloha Center. We spent time together. We laughed together. We talked about fears and expectations. But more importantly, we created trust.

And slowly, things started to change. The quiet students began opening up. Friendships began forming. Confidence began growing. We were building unity because I knew there would be moments when they missed home. Moments when they questioned themselves. Moments when they felt overwhelmed. And when those moments came, they would not have to face them alone. They would turn to the group they came with from home, their family away from family. And it worked.

A few months after one of those groups arrived at BYU–Hawaii, I returned to campus to visit, and one of the first places we went was the Polynesian Cultural Center.

It was my first time back at PCC after several years, and I will never forget the overwhelming feeling of watching each of these students excel in their different roles.

Some were at the luau, bussing tables with big smiles on their faces; some were tour guides interacting with groups and guests from all over the world; and many were dancing in the villages and at the night show.

They were all incredible.

The same students who once sat quietly in Tonga, unable to introduce themselves, were now confidently performing in front of thousands of people. They were no longer hiding. They were becoming. That moment was one of the sweetest and most rewarding experiences of my life.

Eight feet dragged downstairs to Mom’s sewing room. “Mom,” said Johnny, as he, Benjamin, Katie, and Miriam opened the door, “we’re bored. What can we do?”
“Go swimming?” Mom answered.
“We did that yesterday,” said Katie.
“Why don’t you ride your bikes?” suggested Mom.
“We did that this morning,” Johnny answered.
Mom smiled. “Then catch some monkeys.”
“What?” Benjamin jumped.
Mom laughed. “I just wanted to see if you were listening.”
“Sure we’re listening,” said Benjamin. “We don’t have anything else to do.”
“OK,” said Mom, “how about having a Popsicle race?”
“A Popsicle race?” Miriam asked.
“You mean, see who can eat one the fastest?” asked Katie. “We always race each other in everything. We want to do something different.”
“Oh, this is different,” Mom said. “Eating the Popsicles is just the first part. The fun part comes when all you have left are the sticks.”
The children frowned. “What do you mean?” asked Benjamin.
“Here’s how it works,” Mom explained. “Everybody gets a Popsicle and goes in a different direction. Then you have to think of an unusual and interesting thing to do with your Popsicle or its stick. It’s a race because you have to be back here within an hour.”
“You mean, we try to do something with a Popsicle or the stick that we’ve never done before?” asked Johnny.
“That’s right.” Mom nodded. “And there’s one more rule. Whatever you do must make someone else happy. Whoever comes up with the best idea wins. How does that sound?”
The children looked at each other for a moment. “I think that it sounds like fun,” Benjamin said.
“Me, too,” Miriam and Johnny agreed.
“Let’s go!” shouted Katie, and eight feet pounded up the stairs toward the freezer.
A few minutes later Mom looked through the window and smiled at four excited children with four brightly colored Popsicles dashing off in four different directions.
Nearly an hour had passed before Benjamin came running downstairs, grinning. “Hi, Mom,” he said. “Anyone else back yet?”
“You’re the first,” Mom answered, looking out the window. “But here comes Johnny, and Katie is right behind him. And I see Miriam down the street.”
Within minutes the children all gathered in the sewing room. The girls were laughing, and Johnny was so excited that he could hardly stand still. “I did it!” he said. “Let me tell first!”
“No!” shouted the girls. “We want to tell!”
“Hush, now,” Mom said. “You can tell your Popsicle stories in the order of your return. Benjamin, that means that you’re first.”
“OK,” said Benjamin, jumping up. “Well, I ate my Popsicle while walking down the sidewalk and trying to think of something to do. When it was gone, I sat down on the curb to think some more. I was sitting across from Mrs. Taylor’s house. I remembered about Mr. Taylor dying last year and about Mom and Dad saying what a hard time Mrs. Taylor’s been having trying to do everything by herself. I wished that I could help her. Then I noticed that her garden patch was full of weeds—and I got my idea. I went over and asked Mrs. Taylor if it was all right, then used my stick as a tool to dig weeds out of her garden!”
Mom hugged Benjamin. “I’m proud of you,” she said. “What a great idea! I know that it made Mrs. Taylor very happy.”
“My turn!” Johnny called, jumping up and down.
“Yes, Johnny,” said Mom. “What did you do with your Popsicle?”
“First I ate it.” Johnny giggled, showing his red tongue. “And I had to think for a while to get an idea too. As I was thinking, somebody called to me. It was Jeffrey—the boy in my class who has to stay in a wheelchair. He was on the porch of his house and asked me to come over. He seemed pretty sad. I thought that if summer vacation gets boring for me, it must really get boring for him: no bike riding, no baseball, no swimming. So when I went over to his house, I knew what I was going to do with my stick. His mom got me a piece of heavy paper and a pin, and I folded a paper airplane. Then I worked the pin through the middle of the Popsicle stick and stuck it into the nose of the airplane to make a propeller. I gave it to Jeffrey, and do you know what? Even though he has some pretty neat toys, he thought the airplane was great.”
“And you’re pretty great, too,” said Mom. “Good job!”
“I came back next,” said Katie. “Does my idea count even if the someone I made happy wasn’t a person?”
“I don’t see why not,” answered Mom.
“OK. Then I can tell you. After I ate my Popsicle, I ran over to Mrs. King’s house. Her yard is full of things for birds, and I wanted to see if there were any hummingbirds at her feeder. There weren’t, but I saw two sparrows having trouble eating from the seed bell that hangs in the tree. There weren’t any branches close enough for them to sit on while they ate, and they were too small to reach the bell from the branch it hung on. So I asked Mrs. King for two pieces of string. I tied a piece to each end of my Popsicle stick and tied the other ends of the strings to a branch. Now the stick hangs next to the seed bell, and it’s a perch for the birds to sit on while they eat!”
“Terrific!” exclaimed Mom. “But I know someone you made happy besides the birds: Mrs. King. Now there will be more birds for her to watch. You did very well.” Mom turned to Miriam. “Now it’s your turn, honey.”
Miriam looked at the floor. “I think I goofed,” she said. “I didn’t come up with a good idea like the others.”
“I’m sure you did fine,” Mom said. “Please tell us what you did.”
“Well, I didn’t eat my Popsicle,” began Miriam. “I saw Tony on his front porch. I said, ‘Hi,’ but he didn’t say anything. Then I remembered that he had his tonsils taken out Monday. That really makes your throat hurt. So I gave my Popsicle to him, and I sat by him and told him stories and jokes until I saw everyone else coming back here. When I left, he still didn’t say anything, but he smiled.”
“Miriam,” said Mom, kissing her, “that was a good idea. You made someone just as happy as Benjamin and Johnny and Katie did. In fact, now we have a problem.”
“What?” asked the children.
“I don’t think I can decide which idea was best. They were all wonderful.”
The children looked at each other. They were smiling. “That doesn’t matter, Mom,” answered Benjamin. “I think we each got a prize anyway. We all feel great!”
And eight feet skipped up the stairs and outside to play.

Like any self-respecting teenager in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I attended seminary for four consecutive years. This meant long hours of gospel learning in addition to Sunday and family study hours. It was sometimes a difficult and trying experience.
I began seminary in 2017 in our Pare Ward of the Arue Tahiti Stake. I was in 9th grade in school at the time, and I was eager to be part of this youth group.
During my first year, I woke up before 5 am every weekday to get to seminary on time. I did my readings, and I was very attentive in class. I realized seminary contributed to deepening my relationship with God. Without Him, I would not have been able to successfully pass my school’s National Certificate Exam at the end of year 9.
Over the next two years, I gradually became lax in my duties, missing seminary or arriving late more often. I lost my desire to attend seminary, so I was less consistent in my efforts.
Accordingly, my 10th year in school was difficult, but I was unaware at the time of how this was related to my performance in seminary.
In year 11, I started going out with classmates who dabbled in things our Church doesn’t recommend, like alcohol and cigarettes. I even felt a little ashamed of not being like these friends and not hanging out more with them.
Consequently, my annual grades were low and if I had to take the bachelor exam that year, I doubt I would have passed.
Then, the COVID pandemic changed our daily lives, which I thank God for. When seminary classes started up on our smartphones, it was as if to counteract the evil that is also rampant on there.
Although I still had moments of weakness, I decided to hang in there and tried to sincerely follow the lessons of seminary, to benefit from God’s help in my studies.
I am grateful for my parents. Without them, I would have dropped out of seminary and followed the same path as my nonmember friends. As my favorite seminary teachers, they watched over me, making sure I stayed connected to God.
Then, healthy social relationships with the youth of the ward became my lifeline. Our activities together renewed me each time I was not in the mood. Among these friends was Corail Sommers, who never judged but always listened and encouraged and raised me up by her example.
In their own ways, they each contributed to my personal balance.
The discipline of daily immersion in the scriptures paid off in my last year of seminary, which was also my 12th and final year of school.
My seminary study habits allowed me to be better organized. While I’m not a fan of reading, I strove to read daily. It allowed me to maintain my relationship—even a fragile one—with Heavenly Father.
That year, I passed my bachelor diploma with honors. I got my driver’s license on my first try. I received my call to serve a mission in Paris. All in all, the hand of God was in my life the whole time I was in seminary and at school.
Looking back, I testify that God will always help because He loves us.
Seminary is exactly what we need as young people to help us to trust God and to let him prevail in our lives. He always trusted me.

Anna’s heart sank as she walked into the room and saw the Christmas tree. The water heater in their house had burst, and water was all over the floor. Dad was still trying to clean up the mess. The few presents under the tree were completely soaked.
Anna and her little brothers grabbed some towels and tried to dry the presents. But it didn’t really work. They were a soggy mess.
Anna’s family was going through a hard time. Her dad didn’t have a job right now. Her mom was going to have a baby soon, and she felt sick a lot. And now they wouldn’t have any presents for Christmas.
That night as Anna got ready for bed, she could hear Mom and Dad talking in the kitchen.
“What are we going to do?” Mom asked. It sounded like she was crying. “We don’t have enough money for the house payment, and now we don’t even have presents for the kids.” Anna had an empty, twisty feeling in her stomach.
“We’ll figure something out,” Dad said.
Anna walked into the kitchen. Mom reached out and gave her a big hug. With her arms around Mom’s tummy, Anna felt the baby move. She smiled. “We have a new baby coming. You always say that a baby is a miracle.”
Mom smiled back. “That’s right. We have a lot to be grateful for.”
“We have each other,” Dad said. He kissed the top of Anna’s head. “It’ll be OK.”
On the way to her room, Anna heard her brothers crying. She sat down on David’s bed.
“Everyone is so sad,” David said quietly.
“And we won’t have any presents,” Robbie said, sniffling.
“It’ll be OK,” Anna said again. “You’ll see.”
Before she got into bed, Anna knelt and asked Heavenly Father what she could do for her family. She didn’t have any money to buy presents, but she still had a warm, comforting feeling in her heart.
The next morning, she stayed in bed thinking for a few minutes before getting ready for school. Then an idea came to her! That afternoon she hurried home and did her chores and homework. Then she found some paper and string and a few markers and stickers she had gotten for her birthday. She took them all to her room and closed the door.
Anna almost laughed when she thought about how surprised her family would be. First she folded the paper and tied it together with string to make four booklets. She chose a star sticker to put on Mom’s booklet and a planet for Dad’s. She put a dog for David’s booklet and a rocket for Robbie’s.
Then Anna started drawing. For Mom she drew a picture of herself sweeping the floor. She drew a picture of herself cooking dinner with Dad, one of her playing soccer with David, and one of her reading a book to Robbie. It took her several days to fill each booklet with pictures.
Finally it was Christmas Eve, and Anna carefully placed her booklets under the tree.
The next morning, she gave each person in her family a booklet. “I like these pictures,” David said. “I like playing soccer.”
“They’re not just pictures,” Anna said with a sparkle in her eyes. “They’re coupons! The pictures all show things I’ll do for you.”
“This is the nicest gift you could have given us,” Mom said as she looked through her booklet. Anna was thankful that Heavenly Father helped her think of making Christmas coupons. A new baby was coming, and with Heavenly Father’s help, everything really would be OK.