Gospel Story Finder

In 1835, Newel traveled to Ohio to help build the temple and to receive temple blessings. At Kirtland, he boarded with his good friends Hyrum and Jerusha Smith. There he met and fell in love with Lydia Goldthwaite Bailey, whose belief in Joseph Smith was equal to his.
A few years previous, Lydia’s husband had deserted her, and both of her children had died, so her family sent her to Canada for a change of scenery. In late 1833, while staying with the Nickerson family, she heard Joseph Smith preach and saw his face “become white and a shining glow seemed to beam from every feature.”3 This witness of the Spirit converted her. She then moved to Kirtland. On 24 November 1835, Joseph Smith performed Newel and Lydia’s wedding at Hyrum Smith’s home. The ceremony was the first marriage performed by the Prophet.4

The company I was working for closed. I moved to Mexico City, and because I liked to work, I applied for a temporary job with an international editorial company. They wanted me to take an inventory, which was something of a specialty with me. I did the inventory in two weeks. They offered me a permanent job at good pay, and I accepted.
I didn’t speak English at that time. Our director, a man from Texas who didn’t speak any Spanish, said to my boss, “This boy is doing good work. If he knew English, we would pay more. We would send him to New York for training, and he could eventually be a manager here.”
When my boss told me that, I asked, “All I have to do is learn English?”
I was married by then. My wife spoke English because she was born in the Church colonies in Mexico. The first time I tried to speak a few words in English, someone told me not to try. It was not my gift.
Now I was motivated by the thoughts of improving my job position and having opportunities such as traveling to New York. I went to a language school and told them I wanted to learn to speak English as soon as I could.
They asked, “How much do you know?”
I said, “Not a word. Not even ‘Good morning.’”
They said, “We have an intensive course: two weeks, 16 hours a day. Eight hours here with teachers and eight hours in your home with tapes. It costs $1,000.”
I said, “I can do that. I will ask for my vacation, and I can study 16 hours a day for two weeks.”
I went to my boss and said, “I’m going to learn English in two weeks, and you have to pay only $1,000.” He laughed and said, “It is not possible. I learned in two years.”
I told my boss, “Ask the director to give me two weeks’ vacation and pay for the course. If after these two weeks I cannot talk to him in English, then you can take the fee out of my salary.”
He gave permission.
I went to the school. Every 45 minutes for eight hours, they changed teachers. They drilled and drilled the vocabulary, sentences, and conversations.
After eight hours in school, I went into the streets looking for English-speaking tourists to talk to. Then I listened to eight more hours of tapes.
The main reason I went to school was not to learn English. I really wanted to be a manager and go to New York City. Because I was highly motivated, learning English wasn’t hard for me. I enjoyed every second of it.
When I finished the 224 hours of study, I could communicate somewhat in English. I knew that the test was communicating with my director. If I couldn’t, I would have to pay back the $1,000. So I made up a plan. I would talk to him about all that I had learned. When I entered his office, I talked and talked for 20 minutes without letting him say a word. He said, “That’s enough. Send him to New York.” And I went to New York!

My mother also taught me in her own unique ways. She understood the importance of teaching us through action, not lectures. I remember occasions when my brother and I would play outside. We would be enjoying ourselves when we heard my mother call. When we stopped and I came into the house to attend to her call, sometimes she would ask me to grab her something that was close to where she was sitting.
I would obey and then wait to hear the real reason she called. When she didn’t speak up, I asked, “What else do you need?” And she would reply, “That’s it.” I would wonder why she didn’t just get the thing for herself, why she wasted energy calling me into the house.
I didn’t understand then, but she was teaching me about serving others. Later in life, I came to understand that serving others almost always involves giving up something that I prefer to do. She was teaching me through life, not lectures, that family and obedience are important and that we are stronger when we help each other.

Grandmother Jo reached in and pulled out a small velvet box. She opened it to reveal a medal. “This is the Purple Heart medal awarded to your Grandfather Thomas, who fought in World War II,” she explained. “He was wounded on D-Day.”
Christopher proudly held the medal in his hands. Grandfather must have been very brave, he thought. Grandmother Jo took a picture from the chest and showed it to Christopher. It was Grandfather Thomas. He looked handsome and brave dressed in his soldier uniform.

Guy de Maupassant, the French writer, tells the story of a peasant named Hauchecome who came on market day to the village. While walking through the public square, he caught sight of a piece of string lying on the cobblestones. He picked it up and put it in his pocket. His actions were observed by the village harness maker, with whom he had previously had a quarrel.
Later in the day the loss of a money purse was reported. Hauchecome was arrested on the accusation of the harness maker. He was taken before the mayor, to whom he protested his innocence, showing the piece of string that he had picked up. But he was not believed and was laughed at.
The next day the purse was found, and Hauchecome was absolved of any wrongdoing. But, resentful of the indignity he had suffered because of a false accusation, he became embittered and would not let the matter die. Unwilling to forgive and forget, he thought and talked of little else. He neglected his farm. Everywhere he went, everyone he met had to be told of the injustice. By day and by night he brooded over it. Obsessed with his grievance, he became desperately ill and died. In the delirium of his death struggles, he repeatedly murmured, “A piece of string, a piece of string.” (In The Works of Guy de Maupassant, Roslyn, New York: Black’s Reader Service, pages 34–38.)

Occasionally we as parents are rewarded for our efforts when we see in them the beginnings of spiritual growth and development. Such was the case years ago with one of our boys when I took my three young sons fishing. Those of you who have had this experience understand that taking small boys out fishing can be quite a project. Young boys are impatient. They often wish to check their hooks to see if they have a fish. In their haste, their fishing lines often become entangled with each other. Patience certainly is a not a virtue of the very young. We arrived very early at a lake near our home in southern Utah and immediately began fishing. We fished all morning with all of the challenges I have recited. I was beginning to wonder if there were any fish in the reservoir, as we had not even had a bite all morning long. It was late in the morning when I realized my five-year-old was missing. I walked back into the tree line near the shore and soon found him behind a large ponderosa pine, kneeling in fervent prayer. I quietly withdrew and returned to the shore. After a few minutes he rejoined his brothers and me.

“Where have you been, Riley?” I asked.

“I’ve been praying, Dad,” he responded. “I prayed I would catch a fish.”

I started to explain to him that perhaps Heavenly Father really didn’t care if we caught a fish that morning, but he went on: “I promised Heavenly Father if I could catch a fish, I’d never do drugs!”

Remember, he was five years old. Now I was worried. I started to pray at that point. We caught just one fish that day. I don’t think I need to tell you who caught the fish. It was the little five-year-old. And, honestly, it really wasn’t much of a fish, but it was the best-looking fish I have ever seen. I am grateful for a loving Heavenly Father who could take a moment out of a very busy schedule to answer the fervent prayer of a five-year-old. But I was perhaps even more grateful for a young son who was beginning to learn the importance of going to his Heavenly Father for answers to things that were very important to him. You see, I wasn’t always going to be with Riley, but his Heavenly Father will always be there to provide answers and to help him through the difficult times. Now he has three young sons of his own, and they do things together. And it is wonderful to observe.

As another example, take Willard Richards—educated, refined, a doctor of medicine. When Joseph and Hyrum surrendered themselves to the governor of Illinois and were placed in Carthage Jail, a handful of the brethren went with them. By the afternoon of June 27, 1844, most had left to take care of certain matters of business, leaving only John Taylor and Willard Richards with the Prophet and his brother Hyrum. That afternoon following dinner the jailer, knowing of the mob outside, suggested that they would be safer in the cell of the jail. Turning to Willard Richards, Joseph asked, “If we go into the cell will you go with us?” To this Elder Richards responded:
Brother Joseph, you did not ask me to cross the river with you—you did not ask me to come to Carthage—you did not ask me to come to jail with you—and do you think I would forsake you now? But I will tell you what I will do; if you are condemned to be hung for ‘treason,’ I will be hung in your stead, and you shall go free. [B.H. Roberts, A Comprehensive History of the Church, 2:283]
Strong and intelligent men do not demonstrate that kind of love for a charlatan or a fraud. That kind of love comes of God and the recognition of integrity in men. It is an expression of the spirit and example of the Savior, who gave his life for all men and who declared, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13).

Kim Ho Jik was the first Korean to be baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He was born April 16, 1905, to Confucian* parents in P’yöngyang Province. As a young boy, he yearned to find the true religion, and he began attending many different church services. He joined the Presbyterian Church in 1925 and was very active, but something still seemed to be missing from his life.

Ho Jik wanted to learn about many things, so in 1950 he went to Cornell University in New York State to study nutrition. There he met Oliver Wayman, a fellow student and a Church member. Ho Jik was impressed by Brother Wayman’s clean lifestyle—he didn’t smoke, drink, or do other bad things.

When Oliver gave him a copy of The Articles of Faith by James E. Talmage, Ho Jik read it within a week and eagerly asked for more information. Soon he had finished the Book of Mormon, too, and believed it to be the word of God. He started attending Church meetings with Oliver; he also continued to attend Presbyterian services.

On the day Oliver left the university, he stopped his Korean friend in a hallway. “I then bore my testimony of the gospel and told him that it was my opinion that the Lord had moved upon him to come to America … that he might receive the gospel and take it back to his people.” He also told Ho Jik that “if he refused to do the work the Lord had for him to do, another would be raised up in his place.”

Those words had a powerful effect upon Kim Ho Jik. He read the Book of Mormon again, and the Spirit again told him it was true. In July of 1951 he was baptized in the quiet waters of the Susquehanna River, near the place where Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery had been baptized. As he came up out of the water, a voice said to him, “Feed My sheep. Feed My sheep.”

Brother Kim graduated from Cornell a short time later—getting the degree that entitled him to be called doctor—and returned home to South Korea, which was at war. Amid the violence and destruction, he felt the quiet peace of the Holy Ghost as he attended Church services with LDS servicemen from the United States.

Dr. Kim was given many important responsibilities by his country. He was a professor at various universities and president or dean of several colleges, and he later became vice-minister of education and president of the Seoul City Board of Education. He was also a well-known expert on the nutritional content of the soybean. In spite of his many duties, he faithfully obeyed the Lord’s command to feed His sheep.

In 1955, President Joseph Fielding Smith of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, Dr. Kim, and several servicemen traveled to one of the hills that overlooked Seoul, the South Korean capital. There, in a quiet, private place, President Smith dedicated the land for missionary work.

Soon Dr. Kim was president of the Korea District of the Church’s Northern Far East Mission. He helped the Church gain legal recognition in South Korea so that missionaries could serve there, and he even rented a house where they could stay. Members and investigators met there often to discuss the gospel with the elders.

Dr. Kim translated the Articles of Faith, the sacrament prayers, hymns, and other Church materials into Korean. He served as a branch president, and he donated much of his money to the missionary effort and the poor. His example led many to investigate the Church.

Dr. Kim passed away suddenly on August 31, 1959, at the age of 54, just eight years after his baptism. But he had tried hard to feed the Lord’s sheep, preparing the way for tens of thousands of Koreans to become members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

While studying at Brigham Young University–Hawaii, I was in a new environment and English was my second language. It was challenging, and I knew I needed academic help if I was to retain my scholarship. Without it, I would not be able to stay in school. In addition, I had made the commitment that I would not study on Sundays.
One day while I was reading in the Doctrine and Covenants, a particular verse made a big impression on me. As I read in section 109, verse 7, I came across this line: “Seek learning even by study and also by faith.” That verse became the key to my academic success. With faith and diligent study six days out of the week, I was blessed in my studies. Some in my classes wondered how I could do so well without studying on Sunday, as they did. What I learned is that learning by faith can overcome many challenges.

Forty-four years ago I heard William J. Critchlow Jr., then president of the South Ogden Stake, speak to the brethren in the general priesthood session of conference, and retell a story concerning trust, honor, and duty. May I share the story with you. Its simple lesson applies to us today, as it did then.
“Rupert stood by the side of the road watching an unusual number of people hurry past. At length he recognized a friend. ‘Where are all of you going in such a hurry?’ he asked.
“The friend paused. ‘Haven’t you heard?’ he said.
“‘I’ve heard nothing,’ Rupert answered.
“‘Well,’ continued [the] friend, ‘the King has lost his royal emerald. Yesterday he attended a wedding of the nobility and wore the emerald on the slender golden chain around his neck. In some way the emerald became loosened from the chain. Everyone is searching, for the King has offered a reward … to the one who finds it. Come, we must hurry.’
“‘But I cannot go without asking Grandmother,’ faltered Rupert.
“‘Then I cannot wait. I want to find the emerald,’ replied his friend.
“Rupert hurried back to the cabin at the edge of the woods to seek his grandmother’s permission. ‘If I could find it, we could leave this hut with its dampness and buy a piece of land up on the hillside,’ he pleaded with Grandmother.
“But his grandmother shook her head. ‘What would the sheep do?’ she asked. ‘Already they are restless in the pen, waiting to be taken to the pasture—and please do not forget to take them to water when the sun shines high in the heavens.’
“Sorrowfully, Rupert took the sheep to the pasture, and at noon he led them to the brook in the woods. There he sat on a large stone by the stream. ‘If I could only have had a chance to look for the King’s emerald,’ he thought. Turning his head to gaze down at the sandy bottom of the brook, suddenly he stared into the water. What was it? It could not be! He leaped into the water, and his gripping fingers held something that was green, with a slender bit of gold chain. ‘The King’s emerald!’ he shouted. ‘It must have been flung from the chain when the King [astride his horse, galloped across the bridge spanning the stream, and the current carried] it here.’
“With shining eyes Rupert ran to his grandmother’s hut to tell her of his great find. ‘Bless you, my boy,’ she said, ‘but you never would have found it if you had not been doing your duty, herding the sheep.’ And Rupert knew that this was the truth.”
The lesson to be learned from this story is found in the familiar couplet: “Do your duty; that is best. Leave unto the Lord the rest.”

May I share with you another true story and example of this kind of love that I again witnessed at this university. A few years had passed since the previous story. I was now serving in my first year as the bishop of a campus singles ward. If I needed the Lord=s help before while our bishop regained his health, my need was now ten-fold. I felt so keenly the need for the Lord=s direction as I often struggled to know how to serve and teach and counsel the young people in my ward.

Brothers and sisters, may I once again bear my personal witness to you that our Heavenly Father sustains, leads and guides those imperfect and weak vessels He calls to serve in His kingdom. Something very real happens when priesthood hands are laid on an ordinary man=s head and the sacred mantle and keys of a bishop are bestowed.

We are each so blessed to always have close in our lives, our own bishop. Listen to his teachings. Follow his counsel. He has been given special keys designed to bring down the blessings of heaven upon those whom he serves, if they will sustain him. If you will, throughout your entire life, always follow the counsel of your bishop, no matter who the man happens to be at any given time, I know blessings will come into your life that you will otherwise miss. I know such blessings have come into my life in direct proportion to the measure in which I have sustained and followed my own bishop.

Well, the Lord certainly blessed and sustained me as a new bishop as I wrestled with knowing how to help and serve the members of my ward. In particular, I remember pleading with the Lord to help me know how to help one specific sister. I=ll call her Susan. Understand that Susan was not a bad person, but a history of family conflicts and interpersonal crises had resulted in some difficult challenges that often surfaced in Susan=s life. Susan often felt alone, and her actions and attitude did not always bring harmony into her apartment.

In fact, it was often just the opposite. It seemed that Susan would always test anyone=s offered care and concern by pushing back, and pushing back hard. As some of you will know, such apartment situations can be very challenging and difficult for everyone involved. Towards the end of the first semester, Susan=s roommates had reached the end of their patience. While I know they each loved Susan, things came to a head because of some unwise choices Susan had made which resulted in a trip for everyone to the Dean=s Office.

It seemed that a solution just could not be found to this difficult situation other than having Susan withdraw from school the next semester. Shortly thereafter I was visiting one day with another sister in the ward. I=ll call her Mandy. During the course of our interview, Mandy shared with me an experience of a few days earlier. In the middle of the afternoon, Mandy had come home from school to her apartment, something she rarely did.

While home, she did something even stranger for her, something she had never done before in the middle of the day. She decided to go to the commons area of her apartment complex and shoot some pool. Mandy was not the type of girl one would normally find shooting pool in the middle of the afternoon at the end of a semester with finals rapidly approaching. But something impressed her to do so on this day.

When she arrived, there was no one else in the area, except a girl she recognized from the ward but had never spoken with, Susan. At Mandy=s initiative, a conversation ensued during which Susan, for some reason, felt comfortable sharing much of what was happening in her life. This was unusual for Susan. She usually shared very little with anyone, including her bishop.

Something impressed Mandy to come home that afternoon, go to the Commons, and approach a stranger. Brothers and sisters, you and I know what that something was. It=s the same something I asked you to listen for today. Something that may impress you to be someplace or to do something for a Awayfaring@ brother or sister who Amay pass your way;@ more probable, one whom the Lord will put in your way.

Mandy had followed the impressions of the Spirit. A trust quickly developed in only a matter of days. She continued to follow impressions, including a challenging one that she volunteer to switch apartments with Susan=s current roommate. Due in large part to the effects of this selfless act of love, Susan was able to stay in the apartment complex and in school for the remainder of the year.

Mandy made this switch knowing that challenges would certainly follow, and much to the amazement of her many friends in the ward. Several knew something of the difficult situation she was entering. Was the next semester easy and trouble free? Certainly not. However, both Susan and Mandy=s lives were changed for the better. Both became more like the Savior whom they loved because Mandy lived what the Lord had taught when he said:

Love one another, as I have loved you. Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. (John 15:12-13)

The prophets’ lives encourage us to draw close to our families at Christmastime. President Joseph F. Smith remembered one Christmas as a young father when he had no money—not even a penny—to buy gifts for his children. Just before Christmas he left his home and walked down the street, looking at all the wonderful things in the shop windows but knowing that he could buy none of them. Near despair he found a private place and “wept like a child” to relieve his aching heart. But, drying his eyes, he went home and played with his children all day, “grateful and happy only for them.”4 Despite his inability to provide a material Christmas for his children, he had nevertheless given them the greatest gifts any father could—his love and his time.

My boss, classmates, neighbors, and relatives thought it was absurd for me to abandon work, studies, and family to teach of Jesus Christ. They became even more concerned when they learned I would not be paid for doing this.

I asked the Lord for help. I began to ask people: “What is the purpose of life? Why are we here? Where are we going?” I bore my testimony of the plan of salvation. I explained that many children of God are waiting for answers to these questions.

Elder Carlos Eduardo Faria Boato,Brazil Maceió Mission

My family suffered in silence regarding my brother’s struggles for a long time. We endured self-imposed shame for years. Addiction was taboo, so we didn’t talk about it. We thought drug addiction wasn’t supposed to affect families who were doing their best to live the gospel and follow Jesus Christ. We were so afraid of what people would think if they found out. My parents constantly blamed themselves for my brother’s decisions, I would hide what was happening from my friends, and we would dodge all questions about my brother. Little did we know that not talking about it made our circumstances more painful than they already were.
Now I face my brother’s addiction differently. And that’s the key word: face. For so many years, I turned away from it and hid it from everyone else, but now I face it head-on with my family. We seek support and we try to support others. As the years have gone by, we’ve discovered that addiction affects many families in many different forms—and there’s no need to feel ashamed or to hide. It needs to be talked about, and those who have been hurt by it, whether they be loved ones or those who struggle themselves, need less judgment and more support, compassion, understanding, and love. No one should have to suffer alone.

David had been playing for a little league team all season. More than anything else he wanted to be a regular on the team, and he wanted to be a pitcher. He never missed a practice or a game. Whenever his dad or his older brother could find the time, he’d get them to play catch with him. Even when David watched television he would wear his baseball mitt and pop a ball in and out of it almost automatically. Sometimes he’d forget to take the mitt off when his mother called him for meals, and then the family would have to wait while David put the mitt away, washed his hands, and came to the table.
Near the end of the season the coach told all the little leaguers they should meet at the ball park on a certain Sunday morning to have a special practice and to have their pictures taken. “I can’t come on Sunday,” said David.
“You’d better,” said the coach, “because we’re going to talk about our team for next year after we have our pictures taken.”
Usually, David ran home full of excitement after a ball game or a practice. But this night he was late, and he hardly answered when his family spoke to him. He was unusually quiet all week, but on Sunday he didn’t go to the ball park. On Monday he was at practice and at every practice afterward. Finally the day came for the team tryouts.
“You’ll be one of our regular pitchers,” the coach told David, “but you’ll have to play whenever a game is scheduled. We need you, and that will mean sometimes you will play on a Sunday.”
“I can’t play ball on Sundays,” David said.
“Then you’ll have to be a standby pitcher instead of a regular one,” answered the coach. And that is how it was all season. Sometimes David had a chance to pitch a game but more often he didn’t. The other boys on the team played on Sundays, but David went to Sunday School and sacrament meeting with his family.
In the spring when David was ten years old, the coach called the boys together to begin a new season and to make selections for the team. “We’ll need you for a regular pitcher this year, David,” he said. “But sometimes you’ll need to play on Sunday.”
“I’ll have to think about it,” said David. That night he talked the problem over with his dad, and then he said a special prayer for help to have the courage to do what he knew was right. The next day he told the coach he’d have to be just a standby pitcher again. The coach only shook his head.
Several weeks went by and David was at every practice. One night the coach called the boys around him. He explained that David couldn’t play ball on Sunday even though the team often had a game on that day. “But I’d like him to be our pitcher anyhow,” he went on. “If you agree, we could let David be our regular weekday pitcher and have a standby pitcher for Sunday games. How about it?”
There was a moment of silence. David could hardly breathe. The team members hesitated for only a minute, and then every little leaguer agreed wholeheartedly to the Sunday standby pitcher plan.

One of the most pleasant and productive experiences in my life happened in 1943 as the Japanese war was taking place. I heard Dr. Adam S. Bennion give a lecture on the value of great literature. You can sell the idea of the value of great ideas to anyone. That is, we all believe that we should be acquainted with great human thought. But almost everyone gets away from its benefit by saying that he doesn’t have time to read. To get away from this objection of not having time, Dr. Bennion said, “Suppose that you were going to be a prisoner in a Japanese concentration camp for the next four years and you could take with you the works of any ten authors. Which would you take, and what would you expect to get out of them?” That is, what are the values of great ideas, of great literature? His idea was to take the ten authors you would most like to resemble and then exhaust each one in turn. That is, you would read every thought and consider every idea that a particular author had ever recorded; you would rethink his every idea. The psychologists say that when you run an idea through your brain, it makes a little groove or engram. If you run through your mind the kind of ideas that went through the mind of Shakespeare or Emerson or the apostle Paul or Moses or Jesus of Nazareth, then your brain will tend to respond as their brains did.
From someplace I got the courage to make the start. I guess Shakespeare comes fairly close to the top of most people’s lists of great authors. So I got out Shakespeare’s 37 plays, his sonnets, and his poems and went to work. Reading them was pretty difficult at first. I read very slowly and perhaps not very comprehendingly. Shakespeare wrote a long time ago, and there were many things that I did not understand. I had to reread some things several times, look up their meanings, and ask people about them. But finally the clouds began to part, a little bit of the sunlight began to come through, and I had a tremendous experience with Shakespeare. Shakespeare looked with clearer insight into human life than do most men. He said his purpose in writing was to hold the mirror up to life, to show virtue her own image and scorn her own likeness. He said, “I your looking-glass will be and will modestly discover to yourself qualities which you yourself know not of.” I had a great uplift as I read his speeches and his arguments for success. And as he pictured life in miniature with his great characters acting and reacting upon each other, I was intellectually born again—a great many times. Each time we discover some inspiring thought, we can be changed, and changed for the better.
I always read with my pen, marking every idea, every phrase, every quote, and every other thing that I think will help me. And then I put these thoughts into my notebooks. One of my most valuable possessions in the world is my collection of 25 notebooks. They are just regular 8 1/2-by-11-inch page size, three-ring binders, with about 300 pages in each one; so I have 7,500 pages of notes. I think of my reading as a combine harvester sweeping across a field of wheat. It cuts everything before it, but throws out the weeds and the chaff and the straw and puts the wheat in the sack. If I were now going to read something that would be particularly exciting to me, it wouldn’t be Shakespeare, it wouldn’t be Emerson, it wouldn’t even be the scriptures. It would be my notes, because I have selected for my notes those things that particularly inspire me.
I have always felt a little bit cheated in my life that no one has ever tried to talk me out of my faith. I have heard many people say that they got into the wrong crowd or listened to the wrong professor or were influenced by the wrong philosophy. But everywhere I have gone, people have encouraged me to live my religion. Once I thought that maybe I believed as I did just because I didn’t know any better, so I got the complete works of Robert G. Ingersoll. In my opinion Robert G. Ingersoll was the greatest atheist, if you could use that term, that ever lived in the world. I don’t know how convincing other people’s atheism is, but Robert G. Ingersoll was a great salesman. He was a great orator. He was a great architect of speech. He knew how to put ideas together. If anybody could persuade me about something, I think maybe it would have been Robert G. Ingersoll. His complete works are made up of 19,900 pages. There are 214 pages in my New Testament, so I read 90 new testaments of atheism. I didn’t read his works to try to out-argue him or to find fault with them. I read them actually to try to help him persuade me that there was something better than those things that I believed. I read him very carefully. I don’t skip read. I don’t jump over things or just read things that I think will be interesting. If something is important enough for him to write down, it is important enough for me to study and to try to find out the right answer to the subject discussed. And in all of my experiences in reading his work, he hasn’t shaken my faith in the smallest degree. Since that time I have read 987 of the great books, and I have had some tremendous experiences in a lot of different directions with what I have read. These great new philosophies have enabled me to have an “intellectual rebirth.”

All families should regularly hold council meetings to discuss such things as how to adjust the budget to include carpet for the living room, assigning responsibilities for the garden’s care, how to spend the summer vacation—so that together the family can arrive at workable solutions. One father called a special family council the night it was determined that a grandmother’s leg must be amputated. There were many tears, and there were fond recollections of how full of activity her life had been up to then.
Quickly the family decided that grandmother should be invited to live with them. It was then the mother wisely said, “If she comes, let’s make her a queen in our home. We can put her bed right here in the family room so she won’t miss anything.” The compassionate attitude of the mother prevailed in that home. It led the way for all of the family. It blessed the grandmother as long as she lived with them, which she did until she died; it enhanced the lives of all the members of that family; there was greater unity, cooperation, and togetherness than they had known before.

Josh woke up in another world.
At first everything looked the same. Same wallpaper, same dresser, same curtains, same favorite jeans hung carefully on the floor. His first clue that something had changed was when his mom called from the kitchen: “Breakfast frowns silly.”
What? he thought to himself. “What did you say, Mom?”
“Breakfast frowns silly,” she repeated.
“That’s what I thought you said,” muttered Josh.
Pulling on jeans and shirt he stumbled sleepily out to the kitchen, where everything, including his mother, looked normal.
Then she spoke again. “Nod well, smarty?” It was said in the same tone she had used for the same greeting she had given him every morning for 14 years—“Sleep well, dear?” But she had definitely said, “Nod well, smarty?”
Well, she’d been threatening to do it for years, and now she was really cracking up. Better let Dad deal with this.
Gobbling his breakfast so he wouldn’t have to converse, and grabbing his books, Josh said good-bye and hurried out the door, with his mom’s farewell “Scatter, don’t retrogress” ringing in his ears.
Nod? Frown? Scatter? All familiar words, but used in some very weird ways. Even retrogress was a real word, he was pretty sure. But how did it relate?
Worried about his mother, Josh didn’t stop to talk to anyone, but hurried to his first class and sat scanning his notes until the bell rang. Mr. Crandall, teacher of earth sciences, stood and addressed the class: “Good jellyroll, fauna …”
Attention: We interrupt the telling of this story to give you a choice of endings. Here is a summary of each:
Ending A. Josh flees from the classroom in confusion. A new language has invaded the world. Those who speak it are able to understand him, but he can only understand the simplest communications from them. They offer to teach him, but he is intimidated. Besides, learning this new language is hard for him, and frankly, some teachers are not very good at making it understandable.
Finally, Josh learns just enough of the new language to barely get by. There are many others like him. The career he had originally planned on requires that he learn the new language, so he takes a job that doesn’t pay as well and isn’t as satisfying. He marries and has children who must learn the new language without his help. Josh lives happily but somewhat incompletely ever after.
Ending B. In this scenario, too, Josh finds himself baffled by the new language at first. But he decides to persist and learn as much of it as he can. He struggles to memorize vocabulary and rules of grammar. He asks for help from teachers and others and gets some tutoring. Even then, his grades in the new language are not up to his usual standards, but he does his best.
As Josh persists, a whole new world opens up. There is a wonderful richness of understanding in the new language, a way of describing the world, a way of expressing relationships that is truly powerful. There are even delightful games that can be played with the new language. Furthermore, with a reasonably good understanding of the language, fields of study and careers are open to him that would be closed otherwise. Josh can select a career that is satisfying and that allows him to support his family well. Life is more complete with the new language. He lives happier ever after.
Just a little fun fiction, right? Of course. Only, for those who dislike or fear the language known as mathematics (also known as “the dreaded math”), it may not seem so much like fiction.
Many of us feel intimidated or put off by this strange language. It uses words that we usually understand, but it uses them in new ways that can leave some of us saying, “Huh?” It is written in signs and symbols that include our familiar alphabet, but when you see your first algebraic equation, it might as well be Martian.
If you would rather take paregoric than plane geometry—
If algebra holds as much appeal for you as surgery without anesthesia—
Take heart! Cheer up! What follows is the first pop quiz in math that anyone can pass. Because the answers are included. And—it doesn’t measure your aptitude but your math attitude.
Multiple Choice
Math is (check all that apply):
too hard
too boring
not necessary for me
only for scientists or math nerds
absolutely frightening
all of the above
(Answer: If you checked any of the above, please complete the rest of the quiz.)
True-False Section
A girl doesn’t need math as much as a boy does.
True. WAIT! Just seeing if you were paying attention. If you believe girls don’t need math, we’ve got a bridge in Brooklyn we’d like to sell you. Every woman needs math. It’s hard to think of a career anymore where sound math skills aren’t necessary for real success. And at home, math is necessary for helping with family finances and taxes, helping children learn, making wise decisions. A young woman needs math in order to become a smart, alert, thinking woman who understands the world better.
There are plenty of good careers available that don’t require math.
True. Unfortunately, many of them are not on this planet. Here on earth, forestry aides, photographers, and horticulturists need three years of high school math, beginning with algebra. So do nurses, computer programmers, sociologists, and many others. Architects, doctors, scientists—even interior designers and graphic artists—need at least four years of high school math, beginning with algebra. And many of these professions require college math as well.
The best careers are those that pay quite well, and those are the careers that require lots of math.
False—and true. It is generally true that the highest salaries are found in the professions that require math. But, the best career for you is one that lets you grow, gives you the satisfaction of doing something enjoyable that is of service to others, and provides a salary adequate for your needs. High salary doesn’t automatically make one profession better than another, any more than being rich (or poor) automatically makes a person better.
If I am planning on a career or profession that requires little math, I can get by with the minimum.
True, perhaps. But you may not know yet what career you want. If you don’t take math, you lose many of your options. And even if you do have a profession selected, remember that many people change their goals or their professions later on. Don’t close doors on yourself.
Besides, do you really want to settle for the minimum? Do you want to be at the mercy of the lenders with their interest and payment schedules, the politicians with their statistics, the promoters of lotteries and other gambles, advertising claims, etc.?
Some people are naturally better at math than others.
True. But so what? Some people are naturally better readers. But all of us need to read to get along in life. We learn a language, and that helps us communicate with each other. Mathematics is a kind of language itself, and it is being used by more and more people. Math uses symbols, and they seem strange sometimes, but the alphabet is also a set of symbols, and we learn to read with those symbols. The ideas we learn in math are no more difficult than the ideas we learn in reading.
Math can be fun and enjoyable.
True. Wait! Don’t adjust your magazine. It’s true. Many people study math as a hobby. Many enjoy simple mathematical puzzles and games. Math involves exciting ways of thinking. But you have to get into it, learn the basics. Can you imagine doing crossword puzzles when you can scarcely read?
Okay, put down your pencils and pass your papers to the end of the row. That wasn’t so tough, was it? Now if only math itself were that easy. But for many of us—perhaps most of us—it isn’t. So?
So, only people with unusual talent and super dedication can become concert pianists. But anyone with average intelligence and dexterity can learn to play hymns and popular tunes, provided they invest the time and effort learning the symbols and practicing. Some must struggle harder than others, but they can succeed.
The difference is, you can live a normal, satisfying life without knowing how to play the piano. But you will need math your whole life long. So why not get as good at it as you can?
Math is important for everybody. Count on it.

Some months ago I visited a sacrament meeting in another ward. It was a missionary farewell for a friend of mine. After a few words of greeting and the opening song and prayer, the bishop attended to some ward business. Then, looking out across the audience as though there was only one of his flock he cared for at that moment, he asked, “Chad, are you here?”
Immediately the sound of a folding chair knocking noisily against another could be heard. A young boy a few rows ahead of me made his way awkwardly into the aisle. As he turned to maneuver past the chairs, I observed that his facial features showed some abnormality. It appeared that he may not have the same mental abilities as other young people his age. He was facing life with obvious handicaps, or so it seemed.
I watched with others as this young man, with great enthusiasm, literally ran in his awkward way, making his short legs move as fast as possible from the back where he was sitting, up the full length of the chapel.
As the bishop put his protective arm around Chad and drew him close for only a moment, the two looked at each other as though it were a private exchange only they understood. With Chad nestled securely in the fold of his arm, the bishop announced with pride to the audience, “Chad has earned his Duty to God Award. He has qualified in every way.” Then, glancing down at the young man, he said with deep feeling, “We’re all proud of you, Chad.”
Following the presentation there was the usual handshake and an additional warm and sustained embrace. As Chad turned to leave, he broke with tradition and raised his hand high in the air. The bishop understood the signal and responded to Chad’s invitation by raising his hand to meet Chad’s, giving a resounding clap in the air. Outside the meeting he would likely have added the words, “Give ’em five.”
Chad then turned from the bishop, but before leaving the stand moved enthusiastically toward the chorister, who stood and wrapped him in his arms. I learned later that the man was his father.
The young boy then left the podium, making his way down the aisle wearing a broad smile with his arm raised high in the air as if to “give “’em five” to every ward member who had helped him along and now shared in his victory.
It has been months since that memorable Sunday, but in my mind I keep replaying that scene over and over again. What struggles and challenges preceded that day for Chad? Were there times when he might have wanted to give up? Certainly some of the requirements must have been harder for him than they were for others his age. Were there times of discouragement and maybe disappointment? He was smiling when the bishop called him forward to receive his Duty to God Award, but there must have been many times when even duty to God was difficult. I wonder if there were times when Chad, in the privacy of his own heart, asked the Father why—why does it have to be so hard; it doesn’t seem fair. And while he waited for the answer, he kept going.

May I share with you the account of Tihi and Tararaina Mou Tham and their 10 children. The entire family except for one daughter joined the Church in the early 1960s, when missionaries came to their island, located about 100 miles (160 km) south of Tahiti. Soon they began to desire the blessings of an eternal family sealing in the temple.

At that time the nearest temple to the Mou Tham family was the Hamilton New Zealand Temple, more than 2,500 miles (4,000 km) to the southwest, accessible only by expensive airplane travel. The large Mou Tham family, which eked out a meager living on a small plantation, had no money for airplane fare, nor was there any opportunity for employment on their Pacific island. So Brother Mou Tham and his son Gérard made the difficult decision to travel 3,000 miles (4,800 km) to work in New Caledonia, where another son was already employed.

The three Mou Tham men labored for four years. Brother Mou Tham alone returned home only once during that time, for the marriage of a daughter.

After four years, Brother Mou Tham and his sons had saved enough money to take the family to the New Zealand Temple. All who were members went except for one daughter who was expecting a baby. They were sealed for time and eternity, an indescribable and joyful experience.

Brother Mou Tham returned from the temple directly to New Caledonia, where he worked for two more years to pay for the passage of the one daughter who had not been at the temple with them—a married daughter and her child and husband.

In their later years Brother and Sister Mou Tham desired to serve in the temple. By that time the Papeete Tahiti Temple had been constructed and dedicated, and they served four missions there.3