Gospel Story Finder

“You need glasses! You wouldn’t know a foul if it knocked you over!” Melvin sputtered at the referee.
“That’s it! You’re out,” the referee yelled back.
Melvin stomped off the court. He dropped onto the bench and glared at the floor.
The coach sat down beside him. “Do you know what this means?”
Melvin nodded without looking up. “I set a new record.”
“More than that,” the coach said. “It worked again.”
Melvin knew what was coming. He’d heard it before—how the other team knew that if they could get him angry enough, he’d lose his temper and get thrown out of the game. But he couldn’t help himself. He got so mad that if he didn’t do something, he’d explode.
“You’re the best player I have,” the coach said. “You just have to keep your cool!”
The final buzzer sounded. The coach yelled something about next Friday’s championship game as Melvin stalked off the court. “Fourteen times!” he muttered, pounding his fist into his hand. He had just broken the school basketball record for technical fouls on one player. It wasn’t an achievement he was proud of.
Who needs refs anyway! Melvin thought, suddenly glad he had invited his buddies over for a friendly game of baseball.
They were already gathering in his backyard by the time he arrived. Soon they were laughing and playing ball together in the small park down the street.
In the first inning, an opposing batter hit a towering shot to deep left field. As he rounded third base and headed for home, Melvin screamed, “Throw me the ball!”
There was a satisfying thump as ball connected with glove, and Melvin tagged the runner. “You’re out!” he proclaimed triumphantly.
“Safe!” the runner yelled back.
“Uh-uh, I tagged you.”
Everyone started yelling at once.
“He slid under your mitt!”
“He’s safe—I was standing right there!”
“He touched the base before you touched him!”
Finally Melvin jumped atop a bench and yelled, “I got him out! You guys are as blind as bats. If you can’t play baseball right, then maybe …” His voice trailed off. The boys were picking up their gloves and leaving.
Melvin dragged home and slumped onto the stump of a tree cut down several years before. He picked at the dirt that filled the holes in the dry wood.
Suddenly his older brother, Mike, sat down beside him. “Short game, huh?”
“Yeah,” Melvin said quietly. “Every time I open my mouth, something bad happens.”
“How about just every time you open your mouth in anger?”
Melvin shrugged.
“I bet you don’t know how all those holes got in that stump,” his brother challenged.
Melvin shook his head.
“I put them there.” Getting up, Mike went to the garage and returned with a bucket of rusty nails and a hammer. “Who do you think set the previous record for technical fouls at your school?”
Melvin’s eyes widened. “You?”
His brother chuckled. “It would’ve been a lot higher if Dad hadn’t shown me how he learned to control his temper.” He pulled a nail out of the bucket. “These have been pounded in and pulled out of this old stump at least a hundred times each.”
“Will it keep me from getting angry?” Melvin asked.
“No. I wish it were that easy. You’ll probably still feel angry—at least for a while. But what you do with that anger … Well, after a little practice, you can begin to control that.”
Melvin took the hammer. With an easy swing, he drove the nail deep into the old stump. Then he pounded another, and another.
By dinnertime Melvin had pounded more than fifty nails, and the anger had melted away.
Over the next week, Melvin visited the stump almost every day. Sometimes he went before he lost his temper and started yelling or throwing things. Other times he went afterward and worked out the rest of the anger.
The day of the championship game arrived. The school gym was filled with students. Melvin checked his shoelaces one final time. The buzzer sounded, starting the game.
Feet pounded up and down the court. Back and forth the ball changed hands. Melvin snatched the ball from an opponent and raced toward the basket.
Wham!
Melvin tumbled to the floor. He rolled over in time to see the grinning face of the boy who had just knocked him down.
Melvin jumped to his feet, his heart racing. Jaw clenched and blood vessels bulging, he stalked over to his opponent. Part of him wanted to shove the boy back and yell at the referee, “Are you blind? Aren’t you going to call a foul?” Part of him wished he was home at the backyard stump so that he could pound out his anger before he lost his temper.
Suddenly Melvin had an idea. He balled up the fist of his right hand and opened flat his left hand. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Over and over he pounded as if his fist were the hammer and his palm the stump, until he felt himself gain control. Then he turned and walked away from his bewildered opponent.
Early in the second half, Melvin faked his man out of position and drove to the basket. At the last second, the other team’s tall center stepped into his path. Wham! They both went spinning to the floor as the ref’s whistle blew. “Charging!” the ref shouted, pointing at Melvin.
Melvin jumped to his feet. Charging? he was screaming inside his head. He didn’t have position, you idiot! But outwardly he merely pounded his palm as hard as he could. The ref looked him over, fingered his whistle, then turned and gave the ball to the center to throw inbounds.
The game continued. Late in the second half, with the score tied, Melvin sprinted downcourt, leading a fast break. He caught a full-court pass on the run, dribbled once, and gathered himself for an easy lay-up.
Whack! Melvin was pushed hard from behind and went sprawling into a row of spectators behind the basket, barely missing the basket support. A whistle sounded. Without even looking to see who had pushed him, Melvin began pounding his fist. But this time it sounded louder. Melvin opened his eyes to see the other students smacking their fists in rhythm with each other. With each supporting thwack of the students’ hands, Melvin became more determined to finish the game without losing control.
When the final buzzer sounded, Melvin jumped about and high-fived the rest of the team—and not only because they were the champions. He had won a much more important victory: He had kept his cool. He had finished a whole game without a technical foul! It was a new record—one that he was not ashamed of. He looked into the crowd and found Mike giving him the thumbs-up sign.

My friend Max was baptized when he was eight years old. His father was not a member of any church, and Max could go to church or not go.
As a teenager, after not attending for several months, Max had the feeling that he needed to go back to church and determined one Sunday morning that he would return. But his resolve weakened as he approached the front door of the church; his stomach tightened.
There, standing at the door, was the new bishop. Max didn’t know him, and he felt sure the bishop didn’t know Max. As Max approached, the bishop’s face lit up, and he put his hand out and said, “Max, it’s so good to see you!”
“As he spoke those words,” Max said, “a warm feeling came over me and I knew I had done the right thing.”11

Many wonderful, humble women in the Church provide dedicated service without realizing the far-reaching impact their lives have—as examples of temporal service, but also as legacies of spiritual strength. One such woman is my grandmother, Cherie Petersen. She has served faithfully in quiet callings all her life. If you asked her, she would claim that she doesn’t have many talents to offer the world. However, as I have started to learn about her life, I’ve realized just how much her spiritual strength has affected my life.
Cherie’s parents stopped attending church and divorced when she was still very young, so she grew up with a mother, Florence, who was always working. Florence had been neglected as a child, as she was raised in a boarding school while her mother, Georgia, lived a worldly life. In spite of the challenges in her upbringing, Cherie remained active in the gospel, faithfully attending church with her great-grandmother Elizabeth’s family or with friends. She saw in their families what she wanted for her own. She didn’t know exactly what a family should be like, but she knew what it shouldn’t be, and she was determined to have her future family be different.
Cherie’s husband—my grandpa Dell—once told me, “To have a testimony, you have to want it. Cherie always wanted a testimony.” Though their early years of marriage were filled with struggles, they were determined to remain strong as a family. They were less active during the first year of their marriage because of Dell’s work schedule, but a call to serve in the Primary prompted Cherie to begin attending, and Dell soon joined her at church as a deacons quorum advisor. They’ve both been active and strong in the Church ever since. Cherie’s willingness to serve and determination to raise a strong family helped my mother become the strong woman she is, and my mother’s example has helped define my life, especially as I now start my own family.
My grandmother’s righteous decisions have impacted her family generations past what she could see as a young woman. However, the spiritual influence of the women in my family stretches even farther back. Cherie gained much of her own spiritual strength from observing her great-grandmother (my third great-grandmother) Elizabeth. Elizabeth’s example of faith and testimony reached past two generations of inactivity to help her great-granddaughter Cherie reverse a trend of broken families and return to the Church.

Consider the example of this young deacon in the Aaronic Priesthood as shared in his talk in the Benin Ikpopan Stake conference, where I recently presided. The young deacon, Nelson Wonodi, had always admired how young men dressed and served at the sacrament table every Sunday. I share his first day experience with approval from his parents in his words:
“Ever since I was a little boy, I watched the young men in my ward pass the sacrament, and I longed for the day when I could do the same. I would sit in my seat, staring at them thinking, ‘One day, that’s going to be me.’ I even practiced at home, carefully pretending to pass an imaginary tray to my family members, just to make sure I got it right! Then, finally, my day came. I had received the Aaronic Priesthood and was asked to pass the sacrament for the first time. I was so excited … but then something strange happened. As I stood there, holding the tray, looking out at the congregation, my legs started shaking, and my hands felt sweaty. I thought to myself, ‘Wow, is this me? Or am I dreaming?’ It felt surreal. Here I was, finally doing what I had dreamed of for years, but suddenly, I realized just how sacred this responsibility was. This wasn’t just a routine or something I had seen others do. It was real, it was sacred, and it was my privilege to help others remember the Savior”.
Fortunately, a caring congregant, noticing the predicament of the anxious young man, stretched forth her hand, took the tray, and passed it on, thus emboldening young Nelson to continue and successfully accomplish that assignment. Nelson testified that his life of service is preparing him to serve a mission at a later day.

One day after the accident I was having a really crummy day, and I didn’t want to get out of bed and go to physical therapy. But I went, and I saw a man there who was paralyzed and had been burned. He was smiling and talking to all the therapists, and I thought, “If he can do it, I can too.”
After that experience, I was able to focus more on gratitude. I realized how lucky I was, and I was able to accept my situation a little more. I realized I have to choose to wake up and focus on the good things, like my amazing family and the gospel of Jesus Christ.

At the funeral service of a noble General Authority, H. Verlan Andersen, a tribute was expressed by a son. It has application wherever we are and whatever we are doing. It is the example of personal experience.
The son of Elder Andersen related that years earlier, he had a special school date on a Saturday night. He borrowed from his father the family car. As he obtained the car keys and headed for the door, his father said, “The car will need more gas before tomorrow. Be sure to fill the tank before coming home.”
Elder Andersen’s son then related that the evening activity was wonderful. Friends met, refreshments were served, and all had a good time. In his exuberance, however, he failed to follow his father’s instruction and add fuel to the car’s tank before returning home.
Sunday morning dawned. Elder Andersen discovered the gas gauge showed empty. The son saw his father put the car keys on the table. In the Andersen family the Sabbath day was a day for worship and thanksgiving, and not for purchases.
As the funeral message continued, Elder Andersen’s son declared, “I saw my father put on his coat, bid us good-bye, and walk the long distance to the chapel, that he might attend an early meeting.” Duty called. Truth was not held slave to expedience.
In concluding his funeral message, Elder Andersen’s son said, “No son ever was taught more effectively by his father than I was on that occasion. My father not only knew the truth, but he also lived it.” Live truth.

Last November, I had the privilege of being invited—along with President Henry B. Eyring and Bishop Gérald Caussé—to attend a colloquium on marriage and family at the Vatican in Rome, Italy. In attendance were religious representatives from 14 different faiths and from six of the seven continents, all of whom had been invited to express their beliefs on what is happening to the family in today’s world.
Pope Francis opened the first session of the assembly with this statement: “We now live in a culture of the temporary, in which more and more people are simply giving up on marriage as a public commitment. This revolution in manners and morals has often flown the flag of freedom, but in fact it has brought spiritual and material devastation to countless human beings, especially the poorest and most vulnerable. … It is always they who suffer the most in this crisis.”
In referring to those of the rising generation, he said it is important that they “do not give themselves over to the poisonous [mentality] of the temporary, but rather be revolutionaries with the courage to seek true and lasting love, going against the common pattern”; this must be done.
This was followed by three days of presentation and discussion with religious leaders addressing the subject of marriage between a man and a woman. As I listened to the widest imaginable variety of worldwide religious leaders, I heard them agree completely with each other and express support for one another’s beliefs on the sanctity of the institution of marriage and of the importance of families as the basic unit of society. I felt a powerful sense of commonality and unity with them.
There were many who saw and expressed this unity, and they did so in a variety of ways. One of my favorites was when a Muslim scholar from Iran quoted two paragraphs verbatim from our very own proclamation on the family.
During the colloquium, I observed that when various faiths and denominations and religions are united on marriage and family, they are also united on the values and loyalty and commitment which are naturally associated with family units. It was remarkable for me to see how marriage and family-centered priorities cut across and superseded any political, economic, or religious differences. When it comes to love of spouse and hopes, worries, and dreams for children, we are all the same.
It was marvelous to be in meetings with worldwide presenters as they universally addressed their feelings of the importance of marriage between a man and a woman. Each of their addresses was followed by testimonies from other religious leaders. President Henry B. Eyring gave a final testimony at the colloquium. He bore powerful witness to the beauty of a committed marriage and to our belief in the promised blessing of eternal families.
President Eyring’s testimony was a fitting benediction to those three special days.

Mar. 3, 1853 Says he, “If your father had stayed here, him and me would have owned all Kirtland now. I own the temple,” says he. It began to get dark. Says he to his wife and daughter, “Mother and Lilly, you did not ask Joseph if he had been to dinner.” Says he, “Where did you eat last?” Says I, “At Brother Nelson’s in Racine, Wisconsin.” Says he, “Three days ago? Why didn’t you tell us when you first came in?” Says I, “I had been without eating so long I forgot that I was hungry.”

He visited the temple, sorrowfully noting its deterioration from lack of care, and looked out over the city, where many homes that had been wrecked by a tornado were being left to decay. The town seemed to him to have declined much since the Saints had left.

During the message I delivered at general conference in October 1975, I felt prompted to direct my remarks to a little girl with long, blonde hair who was seated in the balcony of the Tabernacle. I called the attention of the audience to her and felt this small girl needed the message I had in mind.
At the conclusion of the session, I returned to my office and found waiting for me a young child by the name of Misti White, together with her grandparents and an aunt. As I greeted them, I recognized Misti as the one in the balcony to whom I had directed my remarks.
I learned that as her eighth birthday approached, she was in a quandary concerning whether or not to be baptized. She felt she would like to be baptized, and her grandparents, with whom she lived, wanted her to be baptized, but her less-active mother suggested she wait until she was 18 years of age to make the decision. Misti had told her grandparents, “If we go to conference, maybe Heavenly Father will let me know what I should do.”
As we continued our visit after the session, Misti’s grandmother said to me, “I think Misti has something she would like to tell you.” This sweet young girl said, “Brother Monson, while you were speaking in conference, you answered my question. I want to be baptized!”
The family returned to California, and Misti was baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

I know exactly what you’re talking about. I thought I must be a terrible person to be so friendly and nice to my friends and so insensitive to my family. I heard this saying: “If you treated your friends like you treat your family, would you have any friends?” And I really started thinking about my situation. Then I considered each member of my family separately, finding things other than relation that we had in common. I found that my four little sisters, my older brother, and I have a lot in common, All of us love sports, My sisters and I love dancing. None of us likes to practice piano. We all love Mexican food, and none of us likes to fight. Also, I started to smile whenever any one of them would look at me, and I started including them in some of my activities, and now we really have some good times together. I hope you find a solution because families really are a lot of fun—if you take the time to get to know them.
Darcie Christian, 15St. George, Utah

Not long ago I attended a family home evening with a family whom I love very much: a young husband and wife and their little daughter. As their bishop I had come to their home acting partly on a prompting from the Spirit and largely on a prompting from this young father’s concerned mother and sister, who were also present. The Lord had been working with this family to make big changes in their lives and bring them back to the blessings of the gospel and the Church. But something had happened that day.
For months this young father had been deeply concerned about providing for his family. His employment was expected to end soon, and he and his wife were in the midst of deciding whether to relocate their family to another state. That would mean significant changes for the family. Earlier that day this father learned that some greatly anticipated financial relief would not be coming; it was crushing news.
When I arrived at their apartment, I could see the deep discouragement in his face. The responsibility of providing for a family and the unwelcome news weighed heavily on the shoulders of this young father.
His wife had chosen a chapter of scripture for the lesson to address their concerns of feeling overwhelmed. The father read the entire chapter. You may recognize these words from Isaiah 55:
“Every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money; come ye, buy, and eat; yea, come, buy … without money and without price. …
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord” (verses 1, 8).
And then the family discussed what those verses meant to them. The Spirit of the Lord filled that little apartment as this family home evening evolved into a family council. This young father shared his fears and concerns and desires, and everyone shared their love and concern for each other. They talked about what to do, what options they had, what actions to take.
It was a very open discussion. There were some disagreements. I felt impressed to simply listen and observe. Finally, in unity the husband and wife determined they should make the decision together with the Lord through prayer. I then offered words of support and encouragement.
I can recall few times when I’ve recognized the Spirit of the Lord more strongly than in that little apartment that evening with that humble, struggling family. It was a fulfillment of the Lord’s promise given to His disciples long ago: “Where two or three are gathered together in my name, as touching one thing, behold, there will I be in the midst of them—even so am I in the midst of you” (D&C 6:32).
Those words from the Savior are not just good advice or mere words of comfort. For the young prophet Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery, those words of the Savior set forth the doctrine and pattern for obtaining revelation and guidance and for making decisions in the kingdom of God.
The Lord was in the midst of that family council that night. They had invited His Spirit through prayer and scripture study. They were united in purpose. They were filled with love for one another. They brought their best ideas and experiences and laid them before each other and before the Lord and asked for His guidance. They made decisions in unity and then took action.

When I turned 12, I started to really think about how I could be involved in the gospel.
I was living in my hometown of Taranto, Italy. It had been only a few years since my brother and I had met the missionaries and become members of the Church, but I started feeling eager to participate more. I began to feel a desire to pass the sacrament. I remember walking to church each Sunday with a prayer in my heart that I would be called to pass the sacrament.
One Sunday morning, my branch president called me into his office. He said, “Massimo, the Lord wants you to receive the priesthood and be ordained a deacon.”
When I heard those words—“the Lord wants you”—something struck me. I felt that it wasn’t a human asking me to do something, but that it really was the Lord personally extending a responsibility. When my branch president looked at me, I felt that the Lord was reaching out to me.
As I began to pass the sacrament every Sunday, I could feel the power of godliness in my life. I felt responsible, I felt involved, and I knew that I was doing the Lord’s work. I felt closer to Him by serving Him.
This experience of feeling the Lord’s hand both through my leaders and in my responsibilities helped me develop a deeper personal relationship with Him. I wanted to be more involved in the gospel; as I lived that way, I felt the presence of God in my life. Developing this kind of relationship with Him is one of the most important things you can do in your youth.
As I met with my branch president, it made a deep spiritual impression on me when I felt that it was the Lord, not just my branch president, giving me a responsibility. By recognizing the Lord in my leader, I felt closer to Him, and my relationship with Him deepened.
We can also develop a personal relationship with the Lord by recognizing His presence as we participate in the ordinances of the gospel. When we are involved in the ordinances—like the sacrament—we know that “the power of godliness is manifest” (D&C 84:20). When I passed the sacrament, even at the age of 12 or 13, I really felt that I was an instrument in His hands. I felt the presence and power of God in those ordinances and the power of godliness in my life. Having that sacred experience each week by recognizing the Lord in this ordinance helped me deepen my personal relationship with the Lord.

In September 1938 I was 15 years old and lived in the little Swiss village of Gilly, between Geneva and Lausanne, in the Swiss canton of Vaud.
One day I returned home from school and found Mamma (Geneviève Emilie Pauline Gay) visiting with two young gentlemen, one from Canada and one from the United States. They were missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and were living in the nearby village of Nyon. My mother was helping them improve their French language skills. She told me that she was very happy to help, and I met them several times. Then one day Mamma told me that the young gentlemen had left Nyon. Over the years, Mamma and I wondered what had become of them.
I grew up, married, and moved to central France with my husband. In 1990 we were living in the small town of Beaumont in Puy de Dôme when by chance I came upon a magazine article in Le Point, a current affairs magazine. The article was called “Recenser l’humanité depuis Adam et Eve” (“To take a census of humanity since Adam and Eve”). It told about the work of genealogical research and baptism for the dead in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
As I read, I experienced a great shock that took me back more than half a century. For several days after reading the article, I felt unsettled, as if I must do something. I thought of my mother, who had always had much faith and goodwill toward other religions and had passed away in 1978. I also thought of my father, who had died in 1937.
Finally, I wrote a letter to Mr. Patrick Coppin, director of acquisitions for the Genealogical Society of Utah, who had been mentioned in the article. I asked if the names of my mother and father might be included in the genealogy of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and if they could receive the blessings of the Church. I included my parents’ birth, marriage, and death dates.
I also included something else: the names and addresses of Elder Brigham Y. Card of Cardston, Alberta, Canada, and Elder Jay Lees of Salt Lake City. They had written their names and addresses on the back of a photograph they had given my mother 52 years earlier.
Three weeks later, I received a letter from Elder Card telling me it would be his joy to act as proxy in the temple ordinances for my mother and father. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I read his letter, but it took me several days to realize what this meant for my parents. On 28 June 1990, my parents were baptized, endowed, and sealed in the Jordan River Temple, with Elder Card and his wife, daughter, and son-in-law acting as proxies. My parents had received the blessings of the temple.

I understood that it was common for members to receive their temple endowment before entering the mission field, so I started preparing to enter. I knew that one of the changes that would occur in my life would be committing to wear the temple garment. I hadn’t thought much about garments before I started to prepare for the temple, so I didn’t have any preconceived notions about wearing them.
After moving to college, I worked with my bishop and went to institute every week. My institute instructor was kind enough to offer tailored temple preparation instruction for several weeks up until my endowment date. This was a tender mercy, considering that I was away from my home ward and didn’t have any family in the Church to guide me. Eventually I received my mission call to Paraguay, and I was ready to go to the temple for the first time.
Going to the temple felt like returning home. Even putting on garments for the first time felt like the missing piece to a puzzle I was trying to solve. I understood that my covenant to wear the garment was an important step in my spiritual progression, and although this decision is sacred and personal, I made it happily because I knew that the knowledge I would gain about my divinity as a daughter of God was above anything the world could offer me.
After I received my endowment, the biggest adjustment was not in how I felt when wearing garments but in the new wardrobe I had to build up thereafter. I purged a lot of clothes in my closet that wouldn’t cover my garments.
However, making those changes in my life felt right. Because I put in the time to prepare for the temple, the adjustment to my wardrobe was a happy, easy experience. And as I strived to learn more, I deepened my testimony that committing to wear the temple garment is more than just an adjustment in wardrobe—it is a symbol of my devotion to my Savior, Jesus Christ, and my choice to follow Him. It is also a gift—a tangible reminder of my temple covenants and the power, protection, and blessings available to me through the Savior’s atoning sacrifice.
My only expectation going into the temple the day of my endowment was to feel God’s love for me. I was able to feel that in the temple more abundantly than ever, and I was determined to keep my covenants and wear my garments because I never wanted that feeling to go away.
During the loneliest and most treacherous times of my life, my testimony of simple, bedrock gospel principles has nudged me to wear my garments always and intentionally while striving to keep the covenants I made in the temple.
I find great comfort in these words from President Russell M. Nelson:
“Whenever any kind of upheaval occurs in your life, the safest place to be spiritually is living inside your temple covenants!
“Please believe me when I say that when your spiritual foundation is built solidly upon Jesus Christ, you have no need to fear. As you are true to your covenants made in the temple, you will be strengthened by His power. Then, when spiritual earthquakes occur, you will be able to stand strong because your spiritual foundation is solid and immovable.”1
My life has not become easier since joining the Church. In fact, the most trying times of my life occurred after my baptism. However, I know that my knowledge of the restored gospel and the strength from the covenants I made in the temple have made these challenges bearable, and the outcomes would have been drastically different without my faith in Jesus Christ.
It’s challenging to live intentionally as a disciple of Christ when the world seems to be at odds with the standards that I strive to keep. But as President Nelson stated, the best refuge for me is living within my temple covenants, including wearing my garments the way I promised to. And as I continue to do so and stay on the covenant path, I know I will experience joy.

I would like to tell you about some of the miracles that occurred in Andre’s quorum in Mochudi. As I share this example, watch for principles that strengthen every priesthood quorum that applies them.
After Andre was baptized, he accompanied the missionaries as they taught four other young men, who were also baptized. Now there were five young men. They began strengthening each other and the branch.
A sixth young man, Thuso, was baptized. Thuso shared the gospel with three of his friends, and soon there were nine.
In Mochudi, a 10th young man soon joined the Church. The missionaries found the 11th. And the 12th young man was baptized after seeing the gospel’s effect on his friends.
Members of the Mochudi Branch were thrilled. These young men “were converted unto the Lord, and … united unto the church.”12
The Book of Mormon played a significant role in their conversion.13 Thuso remembers, “I began reading the Book of Mormon … every time I was free, at home, at school, everywhere.”14
Oratile was drawn to the gospel because of the example of his friends. He explains: “[They] seemed to change in the snap of a finger. … I thought it had … to do with the little … book they started carrying around … school. I could see what good men they had become. … [I] wanted to change too.”15
All 12 young men were gathered and baptized within two years of each other. Each was the only member of the Church in his family. But they were supported by their Church family, including President Rakwela,16 their branch president; Elder and Sister Taylor,17 a senior missionary couple; and other branch members.
Brother Junior,18 a quorum leader, invited the young men to his home on Sunday afternoons and mentored them. The young men studied the scriptures together and held regular home evenings.
Brother Junior took them to visit members, people being taught by the missionaries, and anyone else who needed a visit. All 12 young men piled into the back of Brother Junior’s truck. He dropped them off at homes in companionships of two or three and picked them up later.
Even though the young men were just learning about the gospel and didn’t feel they knew much, Brother Junior told them to share one or two things they did know with the people they visited. These young priesthood holders taught, prayed, and helped watch over the Church.19 They fulfilled their priesthood responsibilities and experienced the joy of serving.
Andre said, “We played together, laughed together, cried together, and became a brotherhood.”20 In fact, they call themselves “the Band of Brothers.”
Together they set a goal that they would all serve missions. Since they were the only Church members in their families, they had many obstacles to overcome, but they helped each other through them.
One by one, the young men received mission calls. Those who left first wrote letters home to those still preparing, sharing experiences and encouraging them to serve. Eleven of the young men served missions.
These young men shared the gospel with their families. Mothers, sisters, brothers, friends, as well as people they taught on their missions, were converted and baptized. Miracles occurred and countless lives were blessed.
It has been almost 10 years since the Mochudi Band of Brothers started their journey together, and they are still a band of brothers.
Katlego said, “We may be separated by distance but we are still there for each other.”22

Alisa’s collar scratched, and her Sunday shoes pinched. She squirmed as her six-year-old hands inched toward her baby brother’s red rattle. Even though it was a baby toy, she grabbed the bright rattle and shook it. The noise lasted only a few seconds, for Mom quickly snatched the toy away and tucked it safely into the diaper bag.
Alisa pretended she’d had nothing to do with the racket. She looked at the bishopric. Bishop Walker was watching Sister Williams, who was giving a talk. He seemed very interested in what she was saying—something about Lehi’s dream.
Then Alisa glanced at the music director, Matthew’s mom. She was also quiet, smiling while holding her hymnbook in her lap.
Alisa sighed. Everyone was being quiet and reverent and was listening to Sister Williams. Except the babies. Wherever Alisa looked, she saw a baby. A curly-haired blond baby tweaked his mommy’s nose, and the mom didn’t even pull his hand away. A bald, blue-eyed baby with a bow pasted on her head drank from a bottle. Her own baby brother happily chewed on his toys and made funny noises.
The babies were having fun. Alisa wished she were. Her mother had told her that she wasn’t a baby any longer, so she couldn’t eat snacks in church or bring her toys to play with. Mom said that she should try to sit quietly and listen to the talks.
Alisa really and truly tried. But it was hard. Before she knew it, her feet were tapping and her eyes were wandering. She slipped under the bench to look at all the shoes.
She loved to study the shoes under the benches. There were high-heeled mom-shoes, scuffed-up boy-shoes, polished dad-shoes, and shiny black little-girl shoes. Two weeks ago she had grabbed Sister Norton’s shoe because it was so pretty and she wanted to see it better. Sister Norton was startled, but smiled when she saw who it was, so maybe she hadn’t minded very much.
But Dad had minded. On the way home from church, he said, “Alisa, you’re getting to be a big girl. It’s time you started behaving in church like Heavenly Father would want you to behave.”
She knew it was true. She was almost six, and she wanted to be reverent and to obey Heavenly Father. The next week she’d tried to be more reverent, but sacrament meeting had lasted such a long time! Halfway through the meeting, she was under the bench again, trying to decide whom each pair of shoes belonged to.
Finally, it was time for Primary. In her class, they acted out stories from the Book of Mormon. She had never quite realized how thrilling the Book of Mormon was. Samuel the Lamanite was so brave! Nephi was stronger than anyone she knew. And Ammon was smart—even smarter than Michael, the smartest boy in first grade!
She loved the stories. And they had given her a wonderful idea! Many of the talks mentioned Book of Mormon people. Maybe that could help her be more reverent in sacrament meeting. She could hardly wait to try out her plan.
The week flew by, and before she knew it, Sunday had come—the day for “The Plan.”
She carefully packed paper, markers, and her Book of Mormon storybook, which had lots of pictures, into her brother’s diaper bag.
Sacrament meeting started in the usual way—announcements, a hymn, a prayer. The bishop talked for a few minutes, everyone sang another hymn, and the sacrament was administered. Then came the talks, the hardest part of the meeting for Alisa.
She took out the Book of Mormon storybook and opened it to pictures of Nephi and his brothers. She wondered why his brothers didn’t like Nephi. She hoped her baby brother would like her when he grew up.
Turning to the story of Samuel the Lamanite in the back of the book, she wondered what it would feel like to stand on a wall and see arrows flying toward you. Was Samuel afraid? He didn’t look scared in the picture. He looked strong and brave. She hoped that she would be as brave the next time she saw Tim at school. He loved to make fun of her—he called her Carrot Top or Freckle Face. She ran whenever she saw him. Maybe next time she would be like Samuel.
While she looked through her book, she heard Brother Pistorius say something about Abinadi and King Noah. It was her favorite Book of Mormon story. She turned to the story in her book and found pictures that showed the things Brother Pistorius was telling about. He thought that King Noah was a bad man, too, and that Abinadi was brave for telling him about the gospel, even when the prophet knew that he would die for it.
Alisa liked listening to what Brother Pistorius said, and before she knew it, sacrament meeting was ending—and she had been reverent the whole time!
After the prayer, Alisa packed her things back in the diaper bag. Mom gave her a hug, and Dad said, “Alisa, we’re proud of the way you acted in church today. You really are a big girl.”
Alisa was happy that her plan had worked. Maybe it wasn’t so bad being a big girl, after all.

Years ago I was a supervising physician in a Lumbumbashi hospital. One day during consultation, I met a young couple. The husband escorted his pregnant wife in to see me. After consulting with her and reviewing laboratory tests, I diagnosed her with severe anemia. The normal course of treatment would be to perform a blood transfusion, but she refused as her faith—Jehovah’s Witness—forbade such a procedure. Instead, I recommended a treatment with medicine. They confessed that they had no money to pay for the consultation or treatment.

Knowing their financial situation, I went to the pharmacy and purchased all the needed medications. Then, I went to the cashier and paid for the laboratory tests and other related costs. When I came back to the office and told her what I had done, there were tears in her eyes. I told her I knew intimately that our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ would sustain her and give her this child—and that I would pray that it be so. One year later, in downtown Lubumbashi, I saw a couple carrying a child coming toward me. They stopped, and the woman said, “Doctor, here is the child you helped us have, and we will never forget what you did. Thank you so much”. With tears in my eyes, I took the child into my arms and silently thanked the Lord.

Since joining the Church, I have had many opportunities to serve my brothers and sisters in various callings, many in leadership positions. I always believed my purpose in life was to serve others and not myself. However, that changed 10 years ago, when one Christmas, I was rushed to the hospital because my kidneys stopped working. The doctor in the emergency room told my family that my condition was so severe that they weren’t sure if I would make it through the night and that they should be prepared for the bad news. I spent three days in intensive care, but thanks to the Savior’s mercy, I was moved to a regular room on the third day and stayed in the hospital for 15 days. My kidneys didn’t recover, and I became a chronic kidney patient, now requiring dialysis three times a week.
I remember pouring out my heart in prayer to Heavenly Father, asking Him to give me more time to see my children serve missions. The Lord heard my plea, and I was able to leave the hospital. I have been fortunate to see my two sons go forth to serve the Lord.
Five years ago, I faced another health challenge. Doctors found a malignant tumor in my colon, and I had to undergo emergency surgery to remove 25 centimeters (10 in) of my transverse colon. During that time, I lost more than 15 pounds (7 kg) in two months. The chemotherapy treatments were so harsh on my body that I became extremely weak and couldn’t eat. Again, my family was told to prepare for the worst. I prayed if it was His will, I still wanted to see my youngest son go on his mission. A miracle happened by God’s great love, and I made it through. The tumor was removed entirely, and my youngest son is currently serving in the Maracaibo Venezuela Mission and is happy to share the gospel and help bring souls unto Christ.
Last December, I had an accident. I fell on the street and broke my hip on both sides and my right arm. This has been one of my greatest trials because it kept me in bed, and I couldn’t walk for more than seven months. They put a hip prosthetic on one side, and the doctor decided to wait until I could walk before they put the other one in. I am still struggling with this challenge today, but I’m not facing it alone. I know my Savior has been by my side every day and always will be. This time, I prayed to help me regain my health so I could continue to enjoy the blessings of going to the temple and serving others. Many people have come to support and assist me. I’ve learned to be humble, recognize my weaknesses, and accept the service they have given me.
I have a testimony of the Savior’s love, of His mercy. I testify that He answers prayers, and through faith, He sustains us in the most challenging times. I testify to the power of the priesthood, which blesses people’s lives. I know we are on this earth to be tested, serve, and love people. I testify that miracles have never ceased to happen—I am an example of those miracles. Because of those miracles, I am still on this earth to testify of Him.

As a young man, I had an opportunity to serve in the U.S. Air Force as a jet-fighter pilot. Each unit in our squadron had a motto that would inspire its efforts. Our unit motto—displayed on the side of our aircraft—was “Return with Honor.” This motto was a constant reminder to us of our determination to return to our home base with honor only after having expended all of our efforts to successfully complete every aspect of our mission.
This same motto, “Return with Honor,” can be applied to each of us in our eternal plan of progression. Having lived with our Heavenly Father and having come to earth life, we must have determination to return with honor to our heavenly home.
How do we return to our Heavenly Father with honor?
Just as aircraft pilots must obey certain rules in order to avoid disaster, there are laws, ordinances, and covenants we must understand and obey as we go through this earthly life—this preparatory period—if we are to reach our goal of eternal life.
The preparatory gospel is that important part of the total gospel plan which gives us an opportunity to prepare ourselves for greater service, the ordinances of the holy temple, and eternal life.
The fourth article of faith outlines the first principles and ordinances of the gospel. They are:
“First, Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ; second, Repentance; third, Baptism by immersion for the remission of sins; fourth, Laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost.”
Elder Bruce R. McConkie, a man of great faith, said, “Faith is a gift of God bestowed as a reward for personal righteousness. … The greater the measure of obedience to God’s laws the greater will be the endowment of the [gift of faith]” (Mormon Doctrine, 2d ed. [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1966], p. 264; italics in original).
In other words, obedience to the laws and ordinances of the gospel is essential to obtain faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.
The Doctrine and Covenants stresses this very important point of obedience in a very simple way. The Lord says: “Keep my commandments continually. … And except thou do this, where I am you cannot come” (D&C 25:15).
The Lord tells us plainly, “If ye love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15).
In pilot training, we spent hours in a training device that simulated real flight. There an instructor would teach us about emergencies which could occur when flying a jet-fighter at the speed of sound. For each emergency, we were taught the procedures for avoiding disaster. We would practice each procedure over and over so that when a real emergency came, we would have developed what was called an automatic, or conditioned, response. We would know exactly what to do if the fire-warning light lit up or the panel indicated some other technical failure in the airplane. We would even predetermine the safe altitude at which we would bail out if the plane were on fire or out of control.
This training process can be compared to the lessons we learn in our homes and in the quorums of the Aaronic Priesthood—the preparatory period of our lives.
We are here at priesthood meeting this evening to learn those things which are necessary to prepare us to be strong and dedicated priesthood holders. We are preparing ourselves to take on higher laws and covenants such as obedience, sacrifice, service, chastity, and consecration of our time and talents. Why do we do this? We should learn this before we go to the temple, brethren, because afterwards it will help each of us to be valiant missionaries, caring eternal companions, and devoted fathers. We are preparing to return with honor to the presence of our Heavenly Father along with our entire families.
Following is an incident that illustrates what could happen if we do not use this preparatory time wisely.
I had a dear friend, an all-American football player. His team earned the opportunity to play in a New Year’s Day bowl game. Before 100,000 spectators and a large TV audience, his team lost by a huge score. It turned out that he and the other members of his team had not kept the training rules that their coach had tried to teach them. They paid a dear price. They had to live with the consequences of knowing they were not prepared to play the big game; they had to live with the final, very embarrassing score.
Years passed. Two members of this same football team were in my flight-training unit. One was an exemplary, well-disciplined student—a model pilot who had learned his lesson well from the failure in the bowl game.
However, the other friend had not learned to listen to those with more knowledge and more experience. When it came time for him to go to the trainer to learn emergency procedures and to precondition his mental and physical responses so that they would be automatic, even instantaneous, this all-American would put his arm around the instructor and say, “Check me off for three hours of emergency procedure.” Then, instead of training, he would go to the swimming pool, pistol range, or golf course. Later in the training the instructor said to him, “What are you going to do when there is an emergency and you are not prepared?” His answer, “I am never going to bail out; I am never going to have an emergency.” He never learned the emergency procedures which he should have mastered in preparatory training.
A few months later, on an evening mission, fire erupted in the quiet sky over Texas. The fire-warning light lit up. When the plane dropped to 5,000 feet in flames, the young pilot who was with him said, “Let’s get out of here.” And, with centrifugal force pulling against him, the young man who took his training seriously struggled to get out of the airplane and bailed out. His parachute opened at once. And he slammed to the ground. He received serious injuries but survived.
My friend who had not felt the need to train stayed with the airplane and died in the crash. He paid the price for not having learned the lessons that could have saved his life.
When fire-warning lights come on in our lives, our eternal progress may be blocked, the price we pay for neglecting the warning. If we ignore the warning lights in our lives, we may not return with honor.
Fire-warning lights of a personal nature are activated for many reasons. For example, the use of alcohol, tobacco, and drugs should turn on warning lights because, when we choose to use these substances, we become slaves; our agency is limited. We must be prepared with a conditioned response to reject them—they are harmful agents—or we will jeopardize our right to have the Spirit guide us and direct us and our ability to return to our Heavenly Father with honor.
Sometimes choosing good friends is difficult, but the important choices we make in our lives are influenced by our friends. We cannot excuse our conduct because of the actions of our friends or because of the pressure they place upon us.
Do you know how to recognize a true friend? A real friend loves us and protects us.
In recognizing a true friend, we must look for two important elements in that friendship:
A true friend makes it easier for us to live the gospel by being around him.
Similarly, a true friend does not make us choose between his way and the Lord’s way. A true friend will help us return with honor.
By applying these two fundamental principles to our selection of friends, we can determine what kind of friends we will have and what kind of friend we will be.
As Aaronic Priesthood holders, what kind of friend are we? Are we the type of friend who always makes sure that those around us know it will be easier for them to live gospel principles, such as the Word of Wisdom or the law of chastity, when they are with us? Do our friends know that they will never have to choose between what we want them to do and what the Lord would have them do?
There is nothing more heartbreaking to a bishop or a parent than to have a young woman say the young man she loved and trusted most told her that if she really loved him, she would prove it by violating with him sacred laws of morality. May we this evening resolve that when fire-warning lights of this nature come on in our lives, we will have made up our minds to do the right thing—to remember who we are and to act accordingly.
Learning your Aaronic Priesthood responsibilities well is like the experience of a student pilot when he is in the trainer. The Aaronic Priesthood holder should be preconditioned with an automatic response to keep gospel standards. He will know what his response is going to be, and the adversary will not triumph over him because he will have preconditioned himself to keep the commandments even when he is under stress.
I hope that Aaronic Priesthood holders can understand the importance of preparing, blessing, and passing the sacrament to the members of the Church. It is so important that we do so with clean hands and a pure heart. It is so important that the young men with whom we serve in the Aaronic Priesthood know we are doing so worthily and that every member in the congregation can look toward the sacrament table and trust that the members of the priesthood are worthy to perform the ordinances of the Lord.
Each Sunday, as we participate in the sacred ordinance of the sacrament, we promise three things as the blessings over the bread and water are given by a priest. In the prayer, the voice of the priest at the table is for all in the room so that each of us can renew our covenants:
First, we promise that we will always remember our Savior, Jesus Christ, and his atoning sacrifice for us.
Second, we take upon us once again the name of Jesus Christ, allowing us to renew our baptismal covenant.
Third, we promise that we will keep his commandments, renewing our covenants of obedience (see D&C 20:77–79).
If we keep these three promises, we are given one of the greatest blessings that can be bestowed upon us: that we will have his Spirit to be with us always, meaning that we will have the Holy Ghost in our lives to guide us and protect us and direct us each day.
The reason why we come to sacrament meeting each week is to renew these covenants so that we can have his Spirit to be with us and remain on the strait and narrow path that leads us to eternal life—to return with honor (see 2 Ne. 31:17–21).
I have stressed the importance of obedience. However, as important as obedience is, sometimes people are deceived and choose to be selectively obedient. A young man may recognize that he must be obedient, yet selectively do only part of what he is commanded to do.
The Lord tells us in 2 Nephi the following:
“Yea, and there shall be many which shall say: Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die; and it shall be well with us.
“And there shall also be many which shall say: Eat, drink, and be merry; nevertheless, fear God—he will justify in committing a little sin; yea, lie a little, take the advantage of one because of his words, dig a pit for thy neighbor; there is no harm in this; and do all these things, for tomorrow we die; and if it so be that we are guilty, God will beat us with a few stripes, and at last we shall be saved in the kingdom of God” (2 Ne. 28:7–8).
My brethren, this is deception, as the Lord has taught us. Wickedness—not even a little wickedness—never was happiness (see Alma 41:10). And it never will be. Wickedness prevents us from returning with honor to our Father in Heaven.
Remember, the Lord told us: “Keep my commandments continually. … And except thou do this, where I am you cannot come” (D&C 25:15).
Many young men enter the mission field having made great sacrifices. They may have had to postpone athletic, artistic, scholarship, and career plans. There may be great financial sacrifice on the part of the family. They may have even left a young lady whom they loved dearly and whom they may lose to some other young man who comes home from the mission field first.
But no matter how much an individual or family may sacrifice for a mission or anything else, unless missionaries choose obedience, consecrating all of their time, talents, and resources in the service of the Lord while they are in the mission field, they cannot fully realize all the great blessings the Lord has in store for them. But it will be much more effective if they learn to be obedient before they go to the mission field.
In order to return with honor, we need the Spirit of the Holy Ghost to be with us each day. You who hold the Aaronic Priesthood, be obedient and exercise your free agency righteously. Be worthy and be prepared to perform your calling well.
As a father, I put my arms around each of my boys as they left to serve their missions and whispered in their ears, “Return with honor.” I can picture our Father in Heaven putting his arms around each of us as we left his presence and whispering, “Return with honor.”
That we will remember who we are and be obedient to the commandments of the Lord and return with honor into the presence of our Heavenly Father with our families is my prayer, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I remember a faithful and devoted member of the Church who was always in a good mood and always smiling. But one day I saw him crying. He told me the reason he was sad was because, at the age of seventy, he saw himself as a failure for having never been able to give his family the material comforts he felt they deserved.

I asked him, “How many children do you have?” He answered, “Four.” I continued, “How many are members of the Church?” He said, “Four.” I asked further, “How many are faithful members of the Church?” His answer: “Four.” “How many are sealed to you?” “Four.” “How many have married in the temple?” Again his answer was “Four.” Then, moved by the Spirit, I told him that the success he had achieved in his life was one of the greatest success stories I had ever heard.