Gospel Story Finder

Eddie’s heart thumped with fear as the small group of Scouts huddled in the cold rain listening to instructions. They were told to fan out and search ravines, thickets, and the narrow creek for an elderly man who had wandered away from a nursing home early the day before.
Why do they call it a search party, Eddie wondered as he listened. A party is fun, but there’s nothing fun about this!
“The man is feeble and may have lost his coat and shoes by now,” the leader continued. “He could be lying somewhere too weak to call out for help. We’re working against time in such wet weather. That’s why we asked your troop to help. Let’s get started!”
The boys quickly fanned out as they had been told to do. At first they were careful to keep each other in sight, but as Eddie moved from side to side searching clumps of shrubs and waist-high weeds, he suddenly found himself alone.
Hiking a rugged trail with a group is fun, he thought as he struggled along, but this is hard work.
Sometimes there was a ditch on his right and a thicket on his left, and Eddie had to search both. With all the zigging and zagging, several holes had been snagged in his poncho, and his clothing felt wet and cold as it clung to his body. His pant legs were caked with mud, and each boot seemed to weigh five pounds.
Finally Eddie sat on a damp log to rest and clean his boots. At first he was just plain tired of the whole thing. Then he began to think about the old man who had been out in the storm for more than twenty-four hours. Suddenly Eddie was ashamed of thinking only about himself and hurrying to get the search over so he could go home where he would be warm and dry.
“I really didn’t look very carefully along the creek back there because of the thorns and mud,” he admitted to himself. Eddie shuddered at the thought that in his hurry he might not have seen the old man lying out in the storm.
Eddie shifted his pack, picked up a heavy stick to use as a staff, and started to backtrack along the slippery rocks that lined both sides of the narrow stream. His legs ached with fatigue as stones slipped and rolled under his muddy boots, but he was grateful for the support they gave his ankles. He wondered if the old man had good shoes or had left the home wearing only light slippers.
Now all the boy could think about was that someone was lost out in the storm. As he rounded a curve, there was a flash of red and his heart began to pound.
Racing on down the creek, he saw a man huddled under a rock ledge on the other side! Eddie’s first thought was to shout for help. But then he realized that, if startled, the man under the ledge might fall and be hurt or try to run away.
Suddenly Eddie remembered the owl hoot signals his troop had learned. Three hoots wouldn’t mean anything to the others, but they would bring one of the Scouts.
Climbing the slippery bank to the trail, Eddie backtracked a few hundred feet and signaled. There was no answer to the first two calls, but when his straining ears caught a faint answering “whoo” after the third call, he walked back to where he could watch the man and give low signals to guide the others to the spot.
The old man rolled over once. Then he sat up and listened to the owl calls.
Soon another mud-streaked Scout appeared in the ravine. Signaling him to remain silent, Eddie hurried down the slope as quietly as he could and explained that he had found the lost man.
“Hurry and bring help,” Eddie said, “but don’t start shouting for help until you’re far enough away so he won’t hear you. We’ll have to be careful not to scare him or he might try to run away.”
When he was alone again, Eddie crossed the creek and started toward the elderly man. Whistling and splashing along in the shallow water, he pretended to be surprised when he saw someone huddled on the overhanging ledge. “Hi!” he called. “Would you like to share my lunch?”
When Eddie took sandwiches and a thermos bottle out of his pack, he saw that hunger and eagerness replaced the fright in the faded blue eyes. But the old man remained silent as he reached out a trembling hand to accept the food and milk. Eddie took a blanket from his pack and draped it around the frail figure.
There was plenty of food, but Eddie had such a lump in his throat that he could hardly choke down even half of a sandwich. All he could think about was how he had almost gone on and left the poor old man.
“I went for a walk and got lost,” the man explained after he had finished eating. Then he pulled the blanket around himself like a tired child and fell asleep.
Almost before he knew it, Eddie was surrounded by other searchers who were eager to help. Soon the men in charge carried the old man away on a stretcher, and Eddie breathed a sigh of relief.
It was still storming and he was wet and cold and tired, but somehow Eddie felt so warm and good that it seemed almost as if the sun were shining!

“Got a dollar?” the scruffy young man asked. I had several dollars, but I silently dropped a quarter into his hand and got on the bus. I rested my head against the window and wondered how much money he made in one day. Probably more than I do as an assistant manager at a restaurant, I thought. And he doesn’t have to work for it.
My family had moved to Flagstaff, Arizona, just three months before, but I’d already seen my share of people come into the restaurant to beg for the food we threw away. Sometimes they ordered food and paid for it in change. More often they would just dig through the garbage bins out back.
At first it made me sad, but now it just irritated me. It seemed as if I couldn’t go anywhere without being asked for money or food.
It was dark by the time the bus got to my stop, but I could still identify the familiar form approaching me. They all seemed to look the same—same whiskers, same shuffling walk and oversized shoes. And they always said the same thing. This time I decided to beat him to it.
“Got a dollar?” I asked, searching his face for a reaction. I had hoped he’d be embarrassed, but his expression didn’t change. He reached unsteadily into his pocket, put a dollar into my hand, and stumbled away.
I froze, then panicked. It wasn’t a joke anymore. I caught up with him and pressed the dollar back into his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” I said. He hesitated for just a moment and looked me deep in the eyes. Then, his hands shaking, he took the bill.
“God bless you,” I whispered as he walked away.
“Perhaps thou shalt say: The man has brought upon himself his misery; therefore I will stay my hand, and will not give unto him of my food, nor impart unto him of my substance …
“But … whosoever doeth this the same hath great cause to repent. …
“For behold, are we not all beggars? Do we not all depend upon the same Being, even God, for all the substance which we have?” (Mosiah 4:17–20).
I suddenly realized that I had judged that man, and many others, unfairly. I hadn’t known his situation, his needs, or what was in his heart; and yet I had mocked him. And then it dawned on me. I was dependent on Heavenly Father for everything I had, and he expected me to share what I could.
I wouldn’t let him down again.

In order to keep the Sabbath day holy, I once had to lose my job. But I know now that God lives. This is a great joy, isn’t it? Another time, shortly after my marriage, I became seriously ill. For two years my condition worsened and doctors gave no hope for my recovery. Finally, however, through a powerful priesthood blessing, my health was fully restored. Without your help and the help of other missionaries, I might never have known about the restoration of the priesthood. I don’t know how to thank you all enough for your sincere hearts and your love for me.

I have a sweet feeling in my heart about President Spencer W. Kimball, who was the prophet when I was baptized. He was a great influence in my life. When I was a new member, he shook my hand in São Paulo, and I have never forgotten it. At one general conference he asked the members to stay out of debt, and I decided I would. In Brazil we have inflation and a lot of financial troubles, but I have never had debts. I am not a rich man, and my family has had many challenges. But we have always overcome them because we followed this wise advice.

Over the past couple of years, Luis Miguel Meza, 17, has begun feeling distant from the friends he has known since his first year in school. “They began to smoke and drink and put pressure on me to do so,” he says. “I had to be strong in the face of lots of criticism.” He prayerfully studied the section in For the Strength of Youth on choosing friends wisely. “As time passed, I had opportunities to become friends with people who don’t drink or smoke and who respect me for my standards. I still see my old friends, and we say hi to each other. But because I was willing to make a sacrifice, Heavenly Father was there to give me a hand.”

The smell of lasagna filled the kitchen as Chrissy’s family sat down at the table. She quietly bowed her head as her father gave the prayer. After the prayer, Mother began to serve the lasagna while Father asked what everyone had learned in church that day.
Greta and Roger, Chrissy’s older sister and brother, had learned about Emma Smith, the Prophet Joseph’s wife. They said that Emma was called an “elect lady” by Jesus Christ.
Chrissy asked, “What’s an elect lady?”
Father explained, “An elect lady is a woman who is very special because she has been chosen or set apart by Heavenly Father.”
Chrissy smiled because she liked Emma Smith and was happy that Jesus Christ had called her an elect lady. Chrissy knew that Emma had been a very courageous person.
When it was Chrissy’s turn to tell what she had learned in Primary, her smile disappeared and her eyes filled with tears. She sobbed, “I wish I only had to sing two songs on Sunday like my friend Jaimey does at her church. I don’t want to sing in Primary anymore.”
“You used to love singing,” Mother said. “What happened?”
“Eric said I sing too loud. He says singing is silly.”
Mother stood up and left the kitchen. In a moment, she came back carrying her triple combination. When she found what she was searching for in it, she asked Chrissy, “Did you know that Emma Smith was given her very own revelation from the Lord?” Chrissy shook her head. “Well,” Mother continued, “Section twenty-five of the Doctrine and Covenants is Emma’s very own revelation, and in it Jesus Christ tells her some very special things.”
“Is that where He calls her an elect lady?”
“Yes, that’s right. It also talks about a calling Emma received from Him. Did you know that He asked her to make the very first hymnbook for the Church? He knew that she would be good at collecting hymns for the Saints to sing. After He asked her to make a hymnbook, the Lord told her something very special about singing. Would you like to hear what He said?”
At Chrissy’s nod, Mother read verse twelve: “‘For my soul delighteth in the song of the heart; yea, the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads.’” [D&C 25:12] Mother put the book down and asked everyone at the table, “Who knows what that verse means?”
Roger smiled and said, “That means Jesus Christ likes to hear us sing.”
“That’s right, Roger,” Father said. “It also means a song is like a prayer. We are always reverent during prayers because we are speaking with our Heavenly Father. Hymns are just like prayers, and that is why it is important to sing with all our hearts.”
Chrissy smiled as she thought about how Emma Smith had obeyed Jesus Christ and made Him happy. She thought of Eric and the mean things he had said. She decided that she would be like Emma and have the courage to do what is right. “I can’t wait for church next Sunday,” she announced. “I’m going to sing with all my heart. I am going to make Jesus happy.”

Another event that proved painful was when the Bain Marie had a broken plug. A Bain Marie is a large container filled with water and suspended over a small flame. Pots of various sauces stand in the hot water until they are needed. This way the sauces stay warm, but do not curdle or burn.

“I was working with three French boys when the leak started,” says Peter. “I stuffed my oven cloth over the hole, but the water began seeping through. Desperately I tried to think of the French word for bucket, but couldn’t. The boys stood looking blankly at me. Eventually, when my hand was three quarters burned, one of them found a small saucepan. We had to paddle out of the flooded kitchen.”

When I was young, we moved. We had no idea we would be living on my great-great-great-grandpa’s farmland! I learned that he and I shared the same chore: picking rocks out of the garden. He said, “There were so many rocks, it was like the garden grew rocks!” I used to hate picking up rocks, but then I began to love it. It makes me feel close to him because we are so much alike and have the same chores.
Fay K., age 11, Utah, USA

Clarice Evans of Bellevue, Washington, was one of 50 vocalists from across the nation accepted to the Young Artists Vocal Program at the Boston University Tanglewood Institute. The selection allowed Clarice to participate in an intense eight-week summer program designed to build musicianship in outstanding high school vocalists.
Clarice also participates in her school choirs. After earning the lead in the school’s musical, Clarice found out there was a performance scheduled for Sunday. Through her tears, she told the director she would have to give up the part. The director said, “I’m glad to know there are still people who feel that way about Sundays. Clarice, we need students like you. Let me see what we can do about the Sunday schedule.” Subsequently, the Sunday performance was dropped, and Clarice was able to perform the part.
Clarice is a Laurel in the Bellevue First Ward, Bellevue Washington Stake.

“Another recollection I have from childhood is memorable to me because it became a powerful lesson in my life. Pioneer Day is a time of great celebration in Salt Lake City. It is climaxed with a long parade on the morning of July 24th. When I was a preschooler, I was asked to be on the Primary Children’s Hospital float. Of course, this was very exciting to me. Mother bought me a new nightgown and fixed my hair with a ribbon. Father walked me down to where the parade was forming—and there was the float! The woman in charge of this float turned and looked at me. She said, ‘Look at her! We chose her because she looked sick and was skinny.’ She took hold of my hair ribbon and pulled it out of my hair. Then she took one of those big powder puffs and put white powder all over my face. I was crushed. I’d had visions of riding as a queen on the float.
“Before the parade began, my father took me into the hospital, which was then right across the street from the north gate of Temple Square, to talk to the children—wisely, I know now, because I was heart-broken. I was introduced to all the children as the one who was going to represent them in the hospital bed on the float. They banged their crutches and shook their metal cribs as their way of saying, ‘Hurray!’ I went back outside and quickly got up onto the float. The cover on the bed hid my new nightgown, and the hair ribbon was gone. All you could see was my little white face. But I was happy now. I was representing all the children in the hospital. I was just pretending to be sick—for them. It was a wonderful lesson to me, one that I shall never forget.

As soon as we sang, “We thank Thee O God for a Prophet” with the rest of the congregation, I was filled with the Holy Spirit—and at that moment, I knew a true man called of God was in our presence.
When the Prophet was giving his talk, I felt happy and excited to be very close to him—as I was seated in the choir. He then asked all primary children to rise and sing, “I Am a Child of God”. I stood up and hoped he would notice the little girl in the choir! To my surprise, he turned back, and called to me, and asked me to lead the other children. I have never felt the way I did in all my life, it was such a special moment for me and one that I am sure will remain in my heart forever.
As he placed his hand on my shoulder, I was filled with such warmth in my heart, I will forever cherish that moment.
I know without a doubt that President Russell M. Nelson is called of God and that if I continue to search the scriptures as he instructed, I will be blessed.

I have seen how the Holy Ghost can touch a softened heart to protect a humble disciple of Jesus Christ with confirming revelation.

The prophet sent me to confer the sacred sealing power on a man in a small city far away. Only the prophet of God has the keys to decide who is to receive the sacred power which was given by the Lord to Peter, the senior Apostle. I had received that same sealing power, but only by direction of the President of the Church could I confer it on another.

So, in a room in a chapel far from Salt Lake, I laid my hands on the head of a man chosen by the prophet to receive the sealing power. His hands showed the signs of a lifetime of tilling the soil for a meager living. His tiny wife sat near him. She also showed signs of years of hard labor alongside her husband.

I spoke the words given by the prophet: “Under delegation of authority and responsibility from,” and then the name of the prophet, “who holds all the keys of the priesthood on earth at this time, I confer the sealing power on,” and I gave the name of the man and then the name of the temple where he would serve as a sealer.

Tears flowed down his cheeks. I saw that his wife was also weeping. I waited for them to compose themselves. She stood up and stepped toward me. She looked up and then said timidly that she was happy but also sad. She said that she had so loved going to the temple with her husband but that now she felt that she should not go with him because God had chosen him for so glorious and sacred a trust. Then she said that her feeling of being inadequate to be his temple companion came because she could neither read nor write.

I assured her that her husband would be honored by her company in the temple because of her great spiritual power. As well as I could with my small grasp of her language, I told her that God had revealed things to her beyond all earthly education.

She knew by the gift of the Spirit that God had given, through His prophet, a supernal trust to the husband she loved. She knew for herself that the keys to give that sealing power were held by a man she had never seen and yet knew for herself was the living prophet of God. She knew, without having to be told by any living witness, that the prophet had prayed over the name of her husband. She knew for herself that God had made the call.

She also knew that the ordinances her husband would perform would bind people for eternity in the celestial kingdom. She had confirmed to her mind and heart that the promise the Lord made to Peter still continued in the Church: “Whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven.” She knew that for herself, by revelation, from God.

I spoke recently to a young father who has lost his job in the recent economic crisis. He knows that hundreds of thousands of people with exactly his skills are looking desperately for work to feed their families. His quiet confidence led me to ask him what he had done to become so confident that he would find a way to support his family. He said he had examined his life to be sure that he had done all he could to be worthy of the Lord’s help. It was clear that his need and his faith in Jesus Christ were leading him to be obedient to God’s commandments when it is hard to do. He said that he saw that opportunity as he and his wife were reading in Alma where the Lord had prepared a people to find the gospel through adversity.
You remember the moment when Alma turned to the man who led the people in distress. The man told him that they had been persecuted and rejected for their poverty. And the record goes:
“And now when Alma heard this, he turned him about, his face immediately towards him, and he beheld with great joy; for he beheld that their afflictions had truly humbled them, and that they were in a preparation to hear the word.
“Therefore he did say no more to the other multitude; but he stretched forth his hand, and cried unto those whom he beheld, who were truly penitent, and said unto them:
“I behold that ye are lowly in heart; and if so, blessed are ye.”4
The scripture goes on to praise those of us who prepared for adversity in the more prosperous times. Many of you had the faith to try to qualify for the help you now need, before the crisis came.
Alma continued, “Yea, he that truly humbleth himself, and repenteth of his sins, and endureth to the end, the same shall be blessed—yea, much more blessed than they who are compelled to be humble because of their exceeding poverty.”5
That young man with whom I spoke recently was one who had done more than put away food and a little savings for the misfortune which living prophets had warned would come. He had begun to prepare his heart to be worthy of the Lord’s help which he knew he would in the near future need. When I asked his wife on the day he lost his job if she was worried, she said with cheerfulness in her voice, “No, we’ve just come from the bishop’s office. We are full-tithe payers.” Now, it is still too early to tell, but I felt assured as they seemed to be assured: “Things will work out.” Tragedy did not erode their faith; it tested it and strengthened it. And the feeling of peace the Lord has promised has already been delivered in the midst of the storm. Other miracles are sure to follow.

May we contrast that for a moment with Brother and Sister Joaquim Aires, a marvelous man and his wife who came to Portugal following the 1974 revolution of Portugal’s colonies in Angola and Mozambique. They had returned to Portugal unknown and with very few possessions. A great blessing occurred in their lives. They opened their door to two young missionaries, who taught them of the restoration of Christ’s church. They received the missionaries, accepted their message, and were baptized.
As is the opportunity for all worthy men in the Church, he received the priesthood—authority to act in the name of our Father in Heaven—and to become a leader in the Church. Brother Aires became President Aires, president of one of the mission districts.
One day I received a telephone call. President Aires was in the hospital in Coimbra, several hours’ travel away. He had suffered a very serious cerebral hemorrhage and was in very critical condition. Another priesthood holder and I made the trip as quickly as possible. As we walked quietly into the hospital room, we found him asleep. My first inclination was not to awaken him. And then I thought he would want to know that we had come. So I reached over and carefully touched his hand. He slowly opened his eyes and then looked at me for a moment, and then the tears came to both of our eyes. He then said in a very weak and soft voice, “I knew you would come. I knew you would come. Would you please give me a blessing.” In his dear, sweet faith, he was asking for a priesthood blessing, the same that is taught of and recorded in the Bible. We read in James 5:14–15: “Is any sick among you? let him call for the elders of the church; and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord:
“And the prayer of faith shall save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him up.”
As men of the priesthood, it was our privilege to pronounce a blessing on him with power and authority of our Father in Heaven.
As I would meet with the members of the Church from one end of Portugal to the other, the brothers and sisters would ask, “How is Brother Aires? Will you please tell him we love him and we’re praying for him?”
This good man and his wife, who had returned to Portugal almost unknown, now, because of their membership in the Church, had literally thousands who loved them and were concerned about them and remembered him in their prayers.
The prayers of faith were answered. He recovered completely, and he and Sister Aires went on to fulfill a full-time mission together.

Parker bent his knees a little as he stood against the height chart in P.E. Please be shorter, he pleaded inside.
“Stand up straight,” his P.E. teacher said. Parker sighed and straightened his knees.
“You’ve sure grown this year,” his teacher said. “You’re 5’9” [1.75 m]!”
Parker groaned. He’d grown another two inches (5 cm) in just the last month. Most of his friends were a lot shorter than he was. He was only 10! It was so embarrassing.
After P.E. Parker walked back to his classroom and sat down at his desk. His knees didn’t fit underneath, and they banged loudly against the metal. The kids sitting nearby started laughing.
At recess Parker’s friends played on the monkey bars. They all swung easily across. But Parker’s toes dragged on the ground, and it wasn’t much fun. During soccer, Parker kept tripping over himself. Everyone else ran quickly across the field.
Parker stopped and watched as they ran farther away. He sighed. Why did his body feel so awkward? It felt slow and clumsy.
Frustrated, Parker walked to a tetherball court and started swinging the ball around. At least this was easier now that he was taller and stronger. He unwound the ball and hit it harder and harder until it started swinging up toward the sky.
“Hey!” a teacher said. “Don’t hit the ball that hard. You could break the rope!”
Parker froze. He didn’t think he was doing anything wrong.
Teachers always expected him to act older just because he was tall.
The bell rang to come in. His friend Lucas waved at him on the way back from playing soccer. “Where’d you go?” he asked.
“I didn’t want to play anymore, I guess,” Parker said as he sat down in his chair. He almost fell over because he was so much bigger than it was.
Lucas laughed. “Hey, Parker! You’re supposed to sit in the chair.”
Parker felt his cheeks get red. Luckily, no one else saw. But then he saw Mrs. Warner looking at him. She started walking toward him.
“Parker,” she said, “would you come with me please?”
Parker’s heart started to pound. He really hadn’t done anything wrong this time. He followed Mrs. Warner into the hallway.
“You sure have grown a lot lately,” she smiled. “You’re taller than I am now.”
Parker frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Mrs. Warner’s forehead wrinkled. “Sorry?” she said. “Don’t ever be sorry for being tall.”
Parker said, “But I’m so big now. It’s awkward.”
“I know it’s hard,” Mrs. Warner said. “When I was young, I was always the smallest kid in my class. I hated how everyone else was taller and stronger.”
“Really?” Parker said. “But you’re not short anymore.”
Mrs. Warner laughed. “Exactly! Most of your friends are like I was. They haven’t grown yet. You just beat them to it!”
Was it really OK to be tall? Parker wondered.
“Now, I called you out here to ask you something,” Mrs. Warner said. “How do you like your chair?”
“Um, it’s kind of small,” he said.
She smiled. “Let’s get you a bigger desk and chair.”
“Thank you!” Parker said.
The next day Parker walked into his classroom. In his spot was a full-sized desk and chair. It was all the class could talk about.
“Why does Parker get a bigger desk?”
“I wish I was tall!”
“I want one!”
Parker sat down in his chair. He fit! And his knees didn’t bang against it! He liked having a bigger desk. Maybe being tall wasn’t so bad after all.

I scanned my planning sheet and wondered how my companion and I were ever going to do it. How could I have forgotten that we had missionary exchanges this week? Poland had been newly opened for missionary work, and most of the members were young in age and in their knowledge of the gospel. The members of this small branch were so excited to learn, and we, as missionaries, were doing our best to teach them.
Sunday meetings had just ended. Small groups socialized around the apartment where we met, as I reviewed our plans for the coming week. We had several discussions already scheduled—something rare at that time—and they all seemed to be set for one day. I had agreed we would take a member with us.
I remembered back to a month ago when Kasha, a member with cerebral palsy, approached me so hopefully. She wore a big grin as she walked over on her crutches.
“Sister McGregor, would you please take me out to do missionary work for a day?” she had asked.
I adored Kasha and would have done anything for her, but I wondered how we would get around. No missionaries or members had cars, so our main mode of transportation would be our feet or the bus. If walking was painful for her, wouldn’t climbing bus stairs all day be worse? But there she stood, waiting for a reply. I had picked a date out of the air. The day fell in our busy week, and I desperately wanted to change it.
I picked my way over to Kasha and showed her our schedule. Her eyes glowed with excitement. I explained to her how all these appointments were scattered throughout the city and asked her how we were going to get around. She looked at me as if I had forgotten something obvious and explained that the bus was usually a pretty good way. I quickly decided that if she wasn’t worried about it, then I shouldn’t be either—but I wasn’t entirely convinced.
We picked her up in the morning and practically hoisted her onto the bus while the driver glared at us for slowing him up. There were no seats, so on our way to our first appointment, we supported Kasha on the swaying bus. Getting off wasn’t much better, and walking was slow and tedious over broken sidewalks and cobblestones. As we sat through our first discussion, Kasha taught two young women with love, testimony, and the Spirit. She was an incredible missionary.
Obstacles other than cobblestones arose as the day continued. Bus drivers had agreed to strike that day, and around noon buses, parked end to end, began to fill the streets of the city. The bus drivers refused to move them.
We walked slowly from place to place, and Kasha did her best to be cheerful. We caught taxis on the edges of the city when we could, and my companion and I physically supported her as much as she would let us.
It was getting late as we inched up the walk to Kasha’s apartment after the long day. Our discussions had been wonderful, but I was looking forward to bed. Kasha suddenly stopped on the walk, forcing me to stop also.
“Oh no!” my mind raced. “I’m going to have to carry her!”
“I’m not tired, Sister McGregor,” Kasha said. “At the end of every single day I’m tired and hurting. I’m usually in bed by now. But today, walking all over the city doing the Lord’s work, I feel like I could keep going and going.” She continued her labored walk home.
I learned a great lesson walking to Kasha’s apartment that night. When we are doing the Lord’s work, He will assist us no matter our weaknesses or disabilities. My disabilities are not the same as Kasha’s, but when I worry that I’m not quite up to what the Lord wants me to do, I think about Kasha.
She had all she needed on her day of missionary work and a little more.

In 2018, I was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. It came as a shock. I was an active wife, mother, grandmother, and, at the time, missionary at the beautiful Cove Fort Historic Site. I was also an active artist; painting and drawing have always been a source of joy and an expression of faith for me. So, when the disease began to take my energy and eyesight, I felt despair.
But one morning I awoke with the thought, “How dull and uninspiring a composition of music or art would be without contrast—light versus dark, soft versus bold, calm versus storm. So it is with the composition of our lives.”
I was reminded of a talk by Sister Sharon Eubank, First Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency, given at the 2020 festival of the Center for Latter-day Saint Arts. She discussed the way art helps us persevere and even thrive. 2 I pondered the idea. What if we were to compose our lives the same way an artist composes a masterpiece? And what might that masterpiece look like with the help of the Savior and our Heavenly Father?
Here are five artistic elements that we can apply to our personal lives.
The scriptures teach us that we are free to “act for [ourselves] and not to be acted upon” (2 Nephi 2:26). One of the most powerful ways for us to act is to pursue an intentional vision for our lives. A famous example of artistic vision is the story of Michelangelo’s statue of David. Michelangelo observed a massive piece of stone that had been sitting behind the town square for decades. The stone was weathered and flawed. But, as Sister Eubank observed, “Michelangelo had the eye to be able to see through what most people would say is an unworkable, imperfect piece of stone” 3 and visualize something divine. Had he not seen and pursued his vision, the stone’s potential would have been lost forever. We can view ourselves with the same inherent potential, no matter how far from perfect we might feel.
The gospel of Jesus Christ provides all the tools we need to create a masterpiece of our lives. Having the tools available is not the same as mastering the tools. Artists know that mastery requires daily practice over a lifetime. One of my favorite tools is a kneaded eraser, which is almost magical in its ability to remove mistakes without damaging the surface of the artwork. In life we are so blessed to have a spiritual kneaded eraser called repentance. The Lord promised, “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow” (Isaiah 1:18). No matter what mistakes we have made, Christ can perfectly repair the masterpiece we are striving to become.
In Remembrance of Me, by Walter Rane
Experienced artists are careful to determine the prime location for the focal point in a painting. Other elements in the painting are designed to direct the viewer’s eye to that location. So it is with life. Our focal point, the Savior, should be at the heart of everything we do. And like great artists, we should step back frequently to ensure our focal point is not being diminished. This task is not easy. President Russell M. Nelson taught: “Our focus must be riveted on the Savior and His gospel. It is mentally rigorous to strive to look unto Him in every thought.” 4 Preparing for and worthily partaking of the sacrament each week is one way for us to take a step back and reaffirm our focus.
In art, the term values refers to the balance between light and dark shades. When used properly, values reveal the composition’s source of light. In this way, differing values provide contrast and texture where there would otherwise be a gray dullness. Lehi taught that if Adam and Eve had remained in the garden, “they would have remained in a state of innocence, having no joy, for they knew no misery; doing no good, for they knew no sin” (2 Nephi 2:23). In other words, lack of contrast would have meant a lack of progress. Brilliant colors stand out amid darker shades the same way a star shines brightly out of a dark sky. For us, times of challenge are opportunities to live our values.
Photograph from Getty Images
The primary colors are red, yellow, and blue—the building blocks of all the beautiful colors in nature. Without red we would have no violet, no orange. Without blue we would have no teal, no purple. Without yellow we would have no goldenrod, no green. In the gospel, we have “Primary answers,” the foundational parts of our daily discipleship, such as scripture study, prayer, and obedience. Primary means “original,” “not … derived from anything else,” “fundamental.” 5 That definition fits the Primary answers perfectly. They are “original” because they are not derived from any other source but the teachings of Jesus Christ, and they have magnificent potential when used together. President Dallin H. Oaks taught, “Though each of these practices may seem to be small and simple, over time they result in powerful spiritual uplift and growth.” 6
Not all of us paint or draw or sculpt, but each one of us is composing a life, and each one of us will face opposition. My cancer diagnosis was a stark reminder that our time to compose is precious. Each day is another brush stroke. And when the picture of our life is complete, it will need a frame. If we have composed with care, that frame will be a crown of righteousness and the encircling arms of a loving Heavenly Father.
I have painted scenes that are dear to me, such as Cove Fort, where my husband served as director for two years, and this farm, which was located north of the Salt Lake City airport and was owned and operated by my father, Arza Hinckley, and his brother Rulon.
Hinckley Farm, by Louise Hinckley Crosby

Singing was another challenge for President Grant. As a small child, he could not carry a tune. When he was 10, a music instructor tried to teach him the simplest song and finally gave up in despair. At age 26, when he became an Apostle, he asked Professor Sims if he could teach him how to sing. After listening to him, Professor Sims replied, “Yes, you can learn to sing, but I would like to be forty miles away while you are doing it.” This only challenged him to try harder.
President Grant one time said, “I have practiced on the ‘Doxology’ between three and four hundred times, and there are only four lines, and I cannot sing it yet.” It is reported that on a trip to Arizona with Elder Rudger Clawson and Elder J. Golden Kimball, President Grant “asked them if he could sing one hundred songs on the way. They thought he was joking and said, ‘Fine, go right ahead.’ After the first forty, they assured him if he sang the other sixty they would both have a nervous breakdown. He sang the other sixty.”
By practicing all of his life he made some improvement in singing but perhaps not as much as in baseball and penmanship, which he mastered. President Grant had a favorite quotation from Ralph Waldo Emerson which he lived by: “That which we persist in doing becomes easier for us to do; not that the nature of the thing itself is changed, but that our power to do is increased.”

Alberto Sottili is a silver craftsman. He recognizes and treasures beautiful things. Each day in his shop in Florence, Italy, he creates jewelry—lovely necklaces, earrings, and brooches. But he is modest about his skills. “My shop is very simple—it is really just a laboratory,” he says. “I always wanted to be a musician, but I didn’t have enough money. So, when I was 14, I worked in the summer and began learning to make jewelry.”

Three years later—at a time when his life seemed very unsettled and he was searching for direction—Alberto heard about something that brought peace and beauty to him. “God loves you,” a relative who was a member of the Church assured him. Alberto was so impressed by this simple statement that he consented to kneel and pray with him. “I felt an incredible peace inside after our prayer, and I felt that I should learn more about this church.”

When the elders began teaching the gospel to Alberto in 1974, they spoke to him about Joseph Smith, the Word of Wisdom, and the purpose of life. “As I listened, I was touched by the fact that the ideas the missionaries were explaining to me were already familiar,” recalls Alberto. One month later, Alberto was baptized.

Today—20 years later—Alberto’s life is still surrounded by beauty. For many years, he was a single parent to his two older daughters, Simona and Silvia. When they were 12 and 11 years old, he met his present wife, Maria Teresa. They were married in the Swiss Temple and now have two more lovely daughters, Sara, 6, and Denise Gloria, 1. The older girls—now 19 and 18—have strong testimonies of the gospel, and both desire to serve missions. Simona reflected, “Thanks to the gospel, I am the person that I am. The gospel influences me each day of my life. Even though sometimes it is hard, I feel that the gospel brings me strength and freedom.”

Silvia is following in her father’s artistic footsteps as she studies painting and sculpture. She also follows his spiritual footsteps as she expresses her testimony, “I am so thankful for my father—it is because of him that I was able to join the Church. Often, people in the world feel that they have the freedom to do whatever they want to do. But I think that obedience to the laws of the gospel is the only thing that makes us really free from the weight of the bad things of the world. To me, the gospel is strength and help, and everything in my life. The most important thing I know is that God loves me and listens to me.”

In Florence, Italy, a city renowned for beautiful treasures, Alberto Sottili talks about his own priceless treasures: “I think that everything good is from God. To keep our family together, we have to work, to pray, to have home evening. We must not permit evil to come into our house.”

And Maria Teresa agrees, “I can’t imagine my life without the gospel. The gospel is my life!”

I soon learned in hiking with boys that they got no pleasure out of my reading the map and showing them the direction. But if I provided each one with a map and a compass and pointed to a spot on the map indicating where he was, then pointed to another spot on the map and said, “Meet me at that point at 4:00 this afternoon,” he embarked on a great adventure, a great challenge, and received immense satisfaction in solving the problem. But all of this was physical satisfaction.

Our ultimate purpose in life is not physical; it is spiritual. It is to come to know God and Jesus Christ whom he has sent. That is what Christ the Lord said when he began his great prayer in Gethsemane. (See John 17.) The gospel is given to us so that we can be guided to the objective given us—to know the Father and the Son. It is as though he said to me, “Son, here is a map and a compass. You are at this spot, and your objective is to reach this other spot. You can do it quickly, or you can take a long time. The sooner you do it, the happier you will be.”

I take the map and gaze at the strange symbols on it. The directions are plainly written, yet I do not quite comprehend. They are words without meaning to me. Just what is an azimuth anyhow, or what does BM x 8270 mean? What are the blue lines as opposed to the black lines and those brown lines in semi-symmetrical patterns? I must understand them to be guided by a map.

Our map, of course, is the revealed word. Our compass is the prophet of the Lord. Understanding comes when one has obtained the Spirit of the Lord, the Holy Ghost.

So let us start on our journey to find eternal life. We will need a map.

Many years ago the Lord gave to the Church a revelation through the Prophet Joseph Smith. In the latter part of it he spoke to the Twelve Apostles and gave them some instructions. Finally he bore witness as to how they could know it was from him. The remarkable thing about it was that there was no Quorum of the Twelve at that time (June 1829). In 1835, six years later, the Quorum of the Twelve was organized and its members chosen. Now the Prophet gathered them together and read to them this revelation. It was read to them in the spring of 1835 by the Prophet as their first instruction. Verses 34 through 36 of the revelation are the testimony of their truth.

“These words are not of men nor of man, but of me; wherefore, you shall testify they are of me and not of man;
“For it is my voice which speaketh them unto you; for they are given by my Spirit unto you, and by my power you can read them one to another; and save it were by my power you could not have them;
“Wherefore, you can testify that you have heard my voice, and know my words.” (D&C 18:34–36.)

Now if you will read this testimony, you will discover—
1. The words are of God and not of man.
2. They are given by his Spirit (through Joseph Smith).
3. Without that Spirit you could not have them.
4. By that Spirit you can read them—one to another.
5. Having read them by the Spirit, therefore, you may know that you have heard the voice of the Lord and know his word.

I had read that series of verses many times, saying to myself that the Twelve received their instruction by revelation through the Prophet. Then one day as I was reading them, in some manner of which I was not conscious at the time, I suddenly realized that the message was for me as well as for the Twelve—not the message itself, but the manner of receiving the message.

Into my mind came the question: How does one hear the word of the Lord? The answer was sharp and clear: By reading the scriptures—by my Spirit they are given to you in writing through my prophets.

Ever since that day whenever I have read the scriptures, there grows in me a thirst—a hunger—to learn more. I start; I don’t want to stop; I am absorbed in the wonder of the word, its scope, its completeness. I can now read the map that guides me to eternal life.

Then I wondered how the Spirit manifests itself to me. How can I know how to seek and obtain the Spirit so that I am hearing by the Spirit? One can read the words without it, and they are just words. I had done that many times. But to read and expand and glow with its warmth, that, I learned, is entirely another thing.

After I had the experience to which I have just referred, I began to search to see how it happened to others. One day I was reading in Enos. The tenth verse almost leaped out at me.

“And while I was thus struggling in the spirit, behold, the voice of the Lord came into my mind again, saying. …” (Enos 1:10.)

That’s it, I thought. Later as I was reading section 8 of the Doctrine and Covenants I came upon verse 2. [D&C 8:2]

“Behold, I will tell you in your mind [there it is again] and in your heart.” (What does he mean by “heart”?)

Then in section 9, verse 8. [D&C 9:8]

“Behold, I say unto you, that you must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right, and if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you.” (There it is again, mind and bosom—heart.) So I conclude that it comes into my mind accompanied by a feeling that may center in my bosom. Then finally it seemed to me to be entirely clear to me when I read in 1 Nephi 17:45 [1 Ne. 17:45], Nephi’s rebuke of his brothers. He reminded them of the times the Lord had spoken and that finally He had spoken to them with the still, small voice, but they were without feeling and they could not feel his words. Why did he say “feeling” and “feel” rather than “hearing” and “hear”? Because it is by feeling, not by hearing.

So here is your bridge, young folks; here is your map, your compass, and your guide:
1. Be righteous.
2. Read the scriptures with pure heart and desire.
3. Learn to interpret the “feeling” that comes to you when you do read.
Then more often than you will ever realize, the word of the Lord will come into your mind. You will have the “feeling” for it, and you will have received direct revelation yourself for you alone, which will guide you right every time and help you make the decisions that will assure you that you will know the eternal God and his Son Jesus Christ and be led to eternal life.