Gospel Story Finder

I conclude with a story from Dr. William Weaver who was the Chairman of Surgery at the Morehouse School of Medicine in Atlanta for 13 years. He shared this story about his father, Ted Weaver, who worked as a janitor and chauffeur in Nashville, Tennessee, when William was growing up:
When I was in high school, I was taking algebra, and I was sitting at the kitchen table trying to do my homework. And I got frustrated, said, “I just can’t figure this out, I’m just . . .” so my father said, “What’s the problem?” And I said, “It’s just algebra.” And he said, “Well, let me look at it.” And I said, “Dad, they didn’t even have algebra in your day.” And I went to sleep, and around 4 o’clock that morning he woke me up and he said, “C’mon, son, get up.” He sat me at the kitchen table, and he taught me algebra. What he had done is sit up all night and read the algebra book, and then he explained the problems to me, so I could do them, and understand them. To this day, I live my life trying to be half the man my father was, just half the man. And I would be a success if my children loved me half as much as I loved my father."

As an illustration of the need to follow the counsel of priesthood leaders, I’d like to tell you about two elders serving in Moncton, New Brunswick. Moncton was a cold place, both weather-wise and also in terms of the success these two particular elders were having. They called me very discouraged after a particularly long stretch of rejection. I suggested they consider proselyting in the near countryside where hopefully the people would be a little friendlier.

The next day the elders drove out, parked their car, and spent the day going door to door, without any success. When they came back just after dark to their car, they discovered that it had been vandalized: some one had taken a “cow pie” and smeared it all across their car’s windshield, doors, and windows. The afternoon sun had caused it to melt through the cracks of the doors, where it had then frozen in place.

That night I received an even more discouraged phone call from these elders. The senior companion, Elder Cooper, was very disheartened, and felt the full brunt of rejection. He wondered out loud over the phone whether he was worthy to be a zone leader, if they should be transferred, or if he should just give up and go home. He just couldn’t see that they were accomplishing anything, and felt the intense opposition of Satan. I spoke with him for a while, and as his priesthood leader I suggested that they find the other elders across town and ask for a priesthood blessing and that he and his companion recommit themselves to the work. We talked about how difficult things had been but how important it was that they carry on.

These elders did not know it at the time, but this was a pivotal point in their missions. Nothing changed in the next few weeks; they chose to carry on, faithful to their calling and in accordance with the commitments that they had chosen to accept when they became fulltime missionaries. They received their priesthood leader’s invitation, obeyed, and moved ahead, choosing to stay focused on preaching the Gospel with love. To me, it was most important that they be obedient and faithful and continue to work hard. Later in their lives, this strength of character and commitment has led to successes in their careers and families. They now serve with distinction in their families, wards, and communities. Their success then and their success now come from following their priesthood leaders.

Another time, Rachel worked with all of the young women as well as the adults in the ward to put together a cookbook. Everyone learned about cooking, shared recipes, and the adults noticed that the youth took an interest in them, too. That prompted her mother to work on a book of her own, what she calls an “heirloom” cookbook. “It includes recipes like my grandma’s recipe for rolls,” Sister Ross explains. “But it includes her photo next to the recipe so you get a feeling for her as a person.”

Parañaque City, near Manila, was hit by Tropical Storm Ketsana in late September. At the height of the storm, the bishop of one of the four local wards floated across neck-deep floodwaters on a Styrofoam cooler lid to help evacuate three families. The next day sacrament meeting was canceled; however, many members of the affected ward, though dealing with the effects of the storm themselves, met at the meetinghouse in pajamas, shorts, and jackets, carrying food and clothes to be given to those in need. In about two hours, all the families in the ward were visited, checked on, and helped.
Then, only two nights after many of them had been wading through the wreckage of their own villages, members from the Parañaque area gathered at their local meetinghouse and assembled 26 bags of clothing, which they had donated, all sorted and individually packaged.
“It was one of the most memorable home evenings for many families in our ward,” said Bishop Franco Advincula.
A sister from a family in need called the bishop to ask when they could give their contributions. “I was stunned, and I couldn’t find the right words,” said Bishop Advincula. “However, I was inspired that I should not deny this good sister the opportunity to help.”

There is a particular challenge we face as Latter-day Saints in establishing and maintaining friendships. Because our commitment to marriage, family, and the Church is so strong, we often feel challenged by constraints of time and energy in reaching out in friendship to others beyond that core group. I experienced this dilemma personally in recent days as I tried to steal a few moments at home to prepare this talk. Twice, friends from my past, whom I love dearly but see only occasionally, dropped in to visit. During what ought to have been choice times of reunion and reminiscence, I ironically found myself growing inwardly impatient for the visits to end so that I could get back to writing my talk about friendship!

I have since felt ashamed. How selfish we can be. How unwilling to be inconvenienced, to give, to bless and be blessed. What kind of parents or neighbors or servants of the Lord Jesus Christ can we be without being a friend? In this information age, is not friendship still the best technology for sharing the truths and way of life we cherish? Is not our reluctance voluntarily to reach out to others in friendship a significant obstacle to helping God accomplish His eternal purposes?

Years ago when I was serving as a bishop, a recently converted family moved into our rural Utah community. These good people had joined the Church in the eastern United States and had been warmly fellowshipped and put to work in a small branch there. When they came to our larger, more-established ward, they somehow slipped through the cracks. Some of the family members, particularly the father, became disenchanted with the Church and its members.

One Sunday morning when I noticed the father was missing from priesthood meeting, I left the meetinghouse and drove to his home. He invited me in, and we had a very honest conversation about the struggle he was having with his new faith and neighbors. After exploring various possibilities for responding to his concerns, none of which seemed to appeal to him very much, I asked him with a tone of frustration in my voice just what we could do to help him. I’ve never forgotten his reply:

“Well, bishop,” he said (and I will need to paraphrase here slightly), “for heaven’s sake, whatever you do, please don’t assign me a friend.”

I learned a great lesson that day. No one wants to become a “project”; we all want spontaneously to be loved. And, if we are to have friends, we want them to be genuine and sincere, not “assigned.”

Brothers and sisters, my message today is very simple: if we truly want to be tools in the hands of our Heavenly Father in bringing to pass His eternal purposes, we need only to be a friend. Consider the power of each one of us, 10 million strong, of our own free will and choice reaching out to those not yet of our faith in unconditional friendship. We would no longer be accused of offering warm bread and a cold shoulder. Imagine the consequences for good if each active family in the Church offered consistent concern and genuine friendship to a less-active family or a new-member family. The power is in each one of us to be a friend. Old and young, rich and poor, educated and humble, in every language and country, we all have the capacity to be a friend.

Our Savior, shortly before His Crucifixion, said to His disciples: “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. Ye are my friends.” Having been so richly blessed by Christ’s friendship, I pray that we will now be to others what He is to us: a true friend. At no time will we be more Christlike than when we are a friend. I testify of the inestimable value of friends in my own life and express my gratitude to all of them this morning. I know that when we offer ourselves in friendship, we make a most significant contribution to God’s work and to the happiness and progress of His children. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

“This … story from my dear friend Kathryn Godderidge, Primary General Advisory Council Member, touched my heart deeply:

“‘My husband and I attended a sacrament meeting with our son and his family in Simpsonville, South Carolina. His wife had gone to church early to play the organ, and we came in a little bit late with our son and grandchildren, finding seats in the back. We quickly settled in and began listening to the organ music for the opening hymn, when we discovered that our two-year-old grandson had brought with him his favorite binoculars. He began using them to carefully search the congregation, and when we tried to help him put them away, he protested, “I need to see mama on the organ!”

“‘What a sweet expression of love and desire from a little boy for his mother!

“‘Oh, that we all would pack our own “binoculars” to not only find that which brings us joy but to also truly see each other as we gather and worship together on Sunday.’

“‘As we are preparing for sacrament meeting, are we intentionally “seeing” all the individuals in the congregation? Do we “see” our precious children, youth, and young single adults as vital participants in this great work? Do we “see” them as covenant members with a unique role to play in building the kingdom of God?

“‘I testify that as we begin to “see” and engage all members of the congregation, our Sabbath day worship will become more joyful, sacred, holy, and centered on Jesus Christ.’”
Sister Amy A. Wright, First Counselor in the Primary General Presidency, Facebook, Feb. 19, 2024, https://www.facebook.com/Primary1stCounselor.

“Shortly after I was called as a General Authority, I went to Elder Harold B. Lee for counsel. He listened very carefully to my problem and suggested that I see President David O. McKay. President McKay counseled me as to the direction I should go. I was very willing to be obedient but saw no way possible for me to do as he counseled me to do.
“I returned to Elder Lee and told him that I saw no way to move in the direction I was counseled to go. He said, ‘The trouble with you is you want to see the end from the beginning.’ I replied that I would like to see at least a step or two ahead. Then came the lesson of a lifetime: ‘You must learn to walk to the edge of the light, and then a few steps into the darkness; then the light will appear and show the way before you.’ Then he quoted these 18 words from the Book of Mormon:
“‘Dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith’” (Ether 12:6).
President Boyd K. Packer, President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, “The Edge of the Light,” BYU Magazine, Mar. 1991, magazine.byu.edu.

As a new convert to the Church, I experienced a spiritual rescue through the saving hands of a faithful member of the Church. I grew up in Matsumoto, Japan, close to where the Nagano Winter Olympics were held. My hometown looks very much like Salt Lake City, a valley surrounded by beautiful mountains. When I was 17 years old, I met two American missionaries, Elder Carter and Elder Hayashi. Though our ages were only two or three years apart, the elders had something wonderful that I had never felt before. They were diligent, cheerful, and filled with love and light. I was deeply impressed by their qualities, and I wanted to become like them. I listened to their message and decided to be baptized. My parents, who were Buddhist, strongly opposed my baptism. Through the help of the missionaries and the Lord, I received permission and miraculously was baptized.

The next year I entered the university in Yokohama. Living alone, far from my hometown and the people I knew, I became lonely and strayed from the Church. One day I received a postcard from a Church member back home. She wrote that she had heard I was not attending Church meetings. She quoted a scripture and invited me to return to church. I was overwhelmed by the words of the scripture. This helped me realize that maybe I had lost something important, and I pondered and struggled for many days. This also caused me to remember a promise the missionaries had made to me: “If you read the Book of Mormon and ask in fervent prayer if the promise found in Moroni is true, you will know the truth through the power of the Holy Ghost.”

I realized that I was not praying with all of my heart and decided to do so. One morning I woke up early, knelt in my small apartment, and prayed sincerely. To my surprise, the confirmation of the Holy Ghost came upon me as promised. My heart burned, my body shook, and I was filled with joy. Through the power of the Holy Ghost, I learned that God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, live and that They truly appeared to Joseph Smith. I made a commitment in my heart to repent and faithfully follow Jesus Christ for the rest of my life.

This spiritual experience changed my life completely! I decided to serve a mission out of gratitude to the Lord and to the Church member who rescued me. Following my mission, I was sealed in the temple to a wonderful girl, and we have been blessed with four children. Not coincidentally, this is the same girl who saved me by sending a postcard to that lonely apartment in Yokohama many years ago. I remain ever grateful for the mercy of the Lord and the help of this Church member, who invited me to once again come unto Christ.

As many of you know being in the temple can touch our feelings very deeply, perhaps more deeply than others of you might suppose. During the open house of the Rexburg Temple in early 2008, I was blessed to lead a few tours. In doing so, I had an unforgettable opportunity to witness just how quickly and how profoundly the temple can touch people. A temple open house will attract many different kinds of people. In an area such as this, many will be active members of the Church wishing to bring their children or other family members to experience the beauty and serenity of the temple. However other people, inactive members and those of other faiths, will also attend, perhaps only out of simple curiosity. They might not be interested in the Church but just be curious to walk through a building that soon will be inaccessible to them.

Let me tell you about one such family. It was a family of three—a father, mother, and an approximately sixteen or seventeen-year-old daughter. Each of them had the definite appearance of being very worldly. Certainly they did not look like folks you would remotely expect to see in your Church meetings on Sunday. They stood out distinctly among the other people on the tour. While they were respectful as we proceeded through the tour, they maintained a steady demeanor of aloofness and indifference. Their very manner repeatedly seemed to say, “We are not buying into what you are telling us.” However, this changed quite suddenly when we got to the celestial room in the temple. I was not expecting the change that came upon them, and they were expecting it even less.

Just prior to entering the celestial room, tour groups were informed that while in that room there would be no talking, but that each person on the tour could use the quiet minutes there to contemplate the reality of a loving Heavenly Father and the concern He has for them. As we entered the room I found myself standing directly opposite this family, where I was able to discretely observe them. Within 30 seconds of being in the celestial room, the wife, with a sudden look of surprise upon her face, began to cry. Her husband, sensing this, looked at her in disbelief, and then he too started to cry. The daughter then turned toward them both and her jaw literally dropped in astonishment as she just stared at them for several seconds before she abruptly burst into tears as well. I watched as this family then fell into each other’s arms and wept quietly together.

How beautiful a contrast in attentiveness they showed when we went next to a sealing room. You could see in each of their eyes a depth of earnest interest regarding the message that families may be sealed together for time and for all eternity. I would love to know if other changes in their lives have come from the feelings they jointly experienced in the temple that day. Of one thing I am certain, they walked out of the temple with very different feelings from the feelings they had when they walked in earlier.

“What are we going to do now?” asked Danny as Mom put a batch of cinnamon rolls into the oven.
Before Mom could answer, Elizabeth asked, “Mom, when will Christmas be here? I want to open my presents.”
Mom sighed as she shut the oven door and set the timer. “There’s a lot we can do, Danny, and, Elizabeth, there’s much, much more to Christmas than opening presents.” She sat down. “Let’s see—how about a game?”
The children nodded enthusiastically.
“Elizabeth, I want you to get Baby Jesus from the nativity set in the family room.”
Elizabeth ran into the family room. She quickly came back with Baby Jesus.
“Now, Danny, close your eyes while Elizabeth hides the Baby Jesus. She’ll tell you when you can open them. Then you look for Him. If you’re far away, she’ll say you’re cold or colder. But if you’re getting closer to the hiding place, she’ll say you’re warm or warmer. Do you understand?” When Danny nodded, Mom said, “All right, close your eyes, Danny.”
Danny put his hands over his eyes. Elizabeth quickly put the Baby Jesus on the music stand of the piano. She looked at Mom and silently mouthed, “Is that OK?”
Mom smiled and nodded.
Elizabeth moved back next to Mom. “You can open your eyes now, Danny.”
Danny uncovered his eyes and took several steps toward the couch.
“You’re cold,” said Elizabeth.
“Colder,” Danny heard as he looked under the end table. “Colder. Oh, Danny, you’re as cold as you can get over there by the fireplace!” declared Elizabeth.
Danny slumped his shoulders in frustration and said, “I don’t like this game.”
“Don’t give up,” urged Mom. “Now that you know where the Baby Jesus isn’t, you should have a better idea about where He is.”
Danny thought a minute, then did an about-face.
Elizabeth cheered, “Hooray! You’re getting warmer.”
Then, instead of looking down, Danny looked up at the piano. He smiled and stood tall as he walked toward the piano.
“Warm, warmer, warmest!” declared Elizabeth as he reached out his hand and picked up Baby Jesus.
“Danny wins the game!” announced Mom.
Danny had a great big grin on his face, and Elizabeth had one too. Mom gathered them both in her arms and explained. “You see, the real purpose of Christmas is like our little game. It’s to try to get closer to Jesus. When we do, we feel warm. If you get that good, warm feeling, the Spirit is telling you that you’re doing the kinds of things that Jesus would like.”
Bzzzz!
“The cinnamon rolls are done,” shouted Elizabeth and Danny.
“Why don’t you two put on your coats while I frost the rolls? Then you can deliver some to Mrs. Simms while they’re still hot.”
Elizabeth and Danny rushed into the house after delivering the rolls. “Mom! Mom! Mrs. Simms was so happy to get the rolls that she had tears in her eyes!” reported Danny.
“I think Jesus liked us giving her the rolls, because I feel warm inside,” said Elizabeth. “And if you’re warm, you’re getting closer.”

When I was young, my father was often away from home because of a serious alcohol problem. My mother had to work full-time to support us, and I began to do many of the household chores for her.
Mother taught me how to scrub floors and how to wash clothes in an old washer. In those days we had to put the clothes through a wringer on the washer, and we had to be careful that we didn’t get our fingers caught, because it could do a great deal of damage. We always washed and rinsed the clothes twice. When I hung them out to dry, I hoped that they would be as white as the neighbor’s wash.
Mother was not a member of the LDS Church at that time, and she let us decide whether or not we went to church. I made the decision to go. I ironed all my clothing and shined my shoes to prepare for Sunday.
When I was about 11 years old, many of Mother’s relatives came from out of town to have dinner with us one Saturday night. Such visits were rare, so she spent the whole day getting the dinner ready. She prepared a pot roast and all the vegetables to go with it, mashed potatoes and gravy, salads, hot rolls, and dessert. She cooked all day, and soon the dirty dishes started stacking up.
After dinner, everyone brought the leftover food to the kitchen, then went into the living room and began to visit. I remember going back to the kitchen, thinking, Mother works all week long, and now she’ll have to do the dishes late at night after everyone leaves. Then I thought, I’ll do the dishes for her.
In those days, we didn’t have a dishwasher; the dishwasher was either me or someone else. I filled up the sink and started washing. I stood there for three hours, washing every dish—and I learned that when dishes or pans are dirty, it’s best to clean them immediately, before the food hardens!
Finally I finished drying the last dish, wiping off all the counters, and scrubbing the floor. I heard the relatives walking out onto the porch, and I heard Mother bidding them good-bye.
The kitchen door swung open, and Mother entered. She stopped and looked around and then looked at me. I cannot describe the look on her face. I think that at first it was shock, then appreciation, and then I think it was more than that. It was a feeling of love and pride, and of something I couldn’t measure. I think you understand. There was a light in her eyes. I made the decision then that I would like to always put that kind of light into people’s faces.
Mother hugged me and thanked me, and I went to bed contented and happy, knowing that she wouldn’t have to stand there doing dishes until two o’clock the next morning.
I learned that serving family members is one of the most Christlike things we can do. It’s easy to be kind to people outside of our homes—we would probably never offend them. Yet we shouldn’t offend the people in our own homes either. We ought to love, appreciate, and serve them the most.

After a meeting with a group of students recently one young man waited to ask a question. “Elder Hanks,” he said, “what are your goals? What do you want to accomplish?” I observed his seriousness of purpose and answered in the same spirit that my strongest desire is to qualify to be a friend of Christ.
I had not responded to such a question just that way before, but the answer did put into words the deep yearnings of my heart.
In ancient times Abraham was called the “friend of God.” Jesus, shortly before his crucifixion, said to his disciples, “Ye are my friends, if ye do whatsoever I command you. Henceforth I call you not servants … but I have called you friends. …” (John 15:14–15.)
In 1832, to a group of elders returning from missionary service, he repeated the message: “… from henceforth I shall call you friends. …” (D&C 84:77.)
Today I would like to speak of one lesson among many that he taught us and that you and I must learn if we are to merit his friendship.
Christ’s love was so pure that he gave his life for us: “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:13.) But there was another gift he bestowed while he was on the cross, a gift that further measured the magnitude of his great love: he forgave, and asked his Father to forgive, those who persecuted and crucified him.
Was this act of forgiveness less difficult than sacrificing his mortal life? Was it less a test of his love? I do not know the answer. But I have felt that the ultimate form of love for God and men is forgiveness.
He met the test. What of us? Perhaps we shall not be called upon to give our lives for our friends or our faith (though perhaps some shall), but it is certain that every one of us has and will have occasion to confront the other challenge. What will we do with it? What are we doing with it?
Someone has written: “… the withholding of love is the negation of the spirit of Christ, the proof that we never knew him, that for us he lived in vain. It means that he suggested nothing in all our thoughts, that he inspired nothing in all our lives, that we were not once near enough to him to be seized with the spell of his compassion for the world.”
Christ’s example and instructions to his friends are clear. He forgave, and he said: “… Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.” (Matt. 5:44.)
What is our response when we are offended, misunderstood, unfairly or unkindly treated, or sinned against, made an offender for a word, falsely accused, passed over, hurt by those we love, our offerings rejected? Do we resent, become bitter, hold a grudge? Or do we resolve the problem if we can, forgive, and rid ourselves of the burden?
The nature of our response to such situations may well determine the nature and quality of our lives, here and eternally. A courageous friend, her faith refined by many afflictions, said to me only hours ago, “Humiliation must come before exaltation.”
It is required of us to forgive. Our salvation depends upon it. In a revelation given in 1831 the Lord said:
“My disciples, in days of old, sought occasion against one another and forgave not one another in their hearts; and for this evil they were afflicted and sorely chastened.
“Wherefore, I say unto you, that ye ought to forgive one another; for he that forgiveth not his brother his trespasses standeth condemned before the Lord; for there remaineth in him the greater sin.
“I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men.” (D&C 64:8–10.)
Therefore, Jesus taught us to pray, “And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” (See Matt. 6:14–15.)
Does it not seem a supreme impudence to ask and expect God to forgive when we do not forgive?—openly? and “in our hearts”?
The Lord affirms in the Book of Mormon that we bring ourselves under condemnation if we do not forgive. (See Mosiah 26:30–31.)
But not only our eternal salvation depends upon our willingness and capacity to forgive wrongs committed against us. Our joy and satisfaction in this life, and our true freedom, depend upon our doing so. When Christ bade us turn the other cheek, walk the second mile, give our cloak to him who takes our coat, was it to be chiefly out of consideration for the bully, the brute, the thief? Or was it to relieve the one aggrieved of the destructive burden that resentment and anger lay upon us?
Paul wrote to the Romans that nothing “shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Rom. 8:39.)
I am sure this is true. I bear testimony that this is true. But it is also true that we can separate ourselves from his spirit. In Isaiah it is written: “… your iniquities have separated between you and your God. …” (Isa. 59:2.) Again, “… they have rewarded evil unto themselves.” (Isa. 3:9.)
Through Helaman we learn that “whosoever doeth iniquity, doeth it unto himself …” (Hel. 14:30); and from Benjamin, “… ye do withdraw yourselves from the Spirit of the Lord. …” (Mosiah 2:36.)
In every case of sin this is true. Envy, arrogance, unrighteous dominion—these canker the soul of one who is guilty of them. It is true also if we fail to forgive. Even if it appears that another may be deserving of our resentment or hatred, none of us can afford to pay the price of resenting or hating, because of what it does to us. If we have felt the gnawing, mordant inroads of these emotions, we know the harm we suffer.
So Paul taught the Corinthians that they must “see that none render evil for evil unto any man. …” (1 Thes. 5:15.)
It is reported that President Brigham Young once said that he who takes offense when no offense was intended is a fool, and he who takes offense when offense was intended is usually a fool. It was then explained that there are two courses of action to follow when one is bitten by a rattlesnake. One may, in anger, fear, or vengefulness, pursue the creature and kill it. Or he may make full haste to get the venom out of his system. If we pursue the latter course we will likely survive, but if we attempt to follow the former, we may not be around long enough to finish it.
Years ago on Temple Square I heard a boy pour out the anguish of his troubled heart and make a commitment to God. He had been living in a spirit of hatred toward a man who had criminally taken the life of his father. Nearly bereft of his senses with grief, he had been overcome with bitterness.
On that Sabbath morning when others and I heard him, he had been touched by the Spirit of the Lord, and in that hour through the pouring in of that spirit had flooded out the hostility that had filled his heart. He tearfully declared his determined intent to leave vengeance to the Lord and justice to the law. He would no longer hate the one who had caused the grievous loss. He would forgive and would not for another hour permit the corrosive spirit of vengefulness to fill his heart.
Sometime later, touched with the remembrance of that moving Sabbath morning, I told the story to a group of people in another city. Before I left that small community the next day I had a visit from a man who had heard the message and understood it. Later a letter came from him. He had gone home that night and prayed and prepared himself and had then made a visit to the place of a man in his community who had years before imposed upon the sanctity of his home. There had been animosity and revenge in his heart and threats made. That evening when it was made known that he was at the door, his frightened neighbor appeared with a weapon in his hand. The man quickly explained the reasons for his visit, that he had come to say that he was sorry, that he did not want hatred to continue to consume his life. He offered forgiveness and sought forgiveness and went his way in tears, a free man for the first time in years. He left a former adversary also in tears, shaken and repentant.
The next day the same man went to the home of a relative in the town. He said, “I came to ask your forgiveness. I don’t even remember why we have been so long angry, but I have come to tell you that I am sorry and to beg your pardon and to say that I have learned how foolish I have been.” He was invited in to join the family at their table, and was reunited with his kin.
When I heard his story I knew again the importance of qualifying ourselves for the forgiveness of Christ by forgiving.
Robert Louis Stevenson wrote: “The truth of Christ’s teaching seems to be this: In our own person and fortune, we should be ready to accept and pardon all; it is our cheek we are to turn and our coat we are to give to the man who has taken our cloak. But when another’s face is buffeted, perhaps a little of the lion will become us best. That we are to suffer others to be injured and stand by, is not conceivable and surely not desirable.”
So there are times when, in defense of others and principle, we must act. But of ourselves, if we suffer injury or unkindness, we must pray for the strength to forbear.
Christ gave his life on a cross; and on that cross he fully, freely forgave. It is a worthy goal to seek to qualify for the friendship of such a one.
More than 250 years ago Joseph Addison printed in The Spectator a paragraph of sobering thoughtfulness:
“When I look upon the tombs of the great, every emotion of envy dies in me; when I read the epitaphs of the beautiful, every inordinate desire goes out; when I meet with the grief of parents upon a tombstone, my heart melts with compassion; when I see the tombs of the parents themselves, I consider the vanity of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow; when I see kings lying by those who deposed them, when I consider rival wits placed side by side, or the men that divided the world with their contests and disputes, I reflect with sorrow and astonishment on the little competitions, factions, and debates of mankind. When I read the several dates of the tombs, of some that died yesterday, and some six hundred years ago, I consider that great Day when we shall all of us be contemporaries, and make our appearance together.”
God help us to rid ourselves of resentment and pettiness and foolish pride; to love, and to forgive, in order that we may be friends with ourselves, with others, and with the Lord.
“… even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye.” (Col. 3:13.)
In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Even the familiar became more meaningful for many participating in the conference. David Howell, a priest in the Bountiful Central Stake, together with other musician friends from school, rehearsed several LDS hymns to present in one of the workshops. “It was the first time I’ve played hymns in a group. We watched people’s eyes water during ‘A Poor Wayfaring Man.’ The hymns brought out whole different feelings in me. I really realized the meaning of ‘Onward Christian Soldiers,’ ‘God of Our Fathers,’ and ‘Firm As the Mountains Around Us.’ I think we really touched others too.”

My aunt sent me a crisp one dollar bill for my birthday. It was in a card with an unusual message:
Dear Matt,Please share this dollar with as many people other than your family as you can. Try to do it without them knowing it. I know that you’ll have a happy birthday if you do. Please let me know what happens.
Love,Aunt Maureen
I was very puzzled. How could I share one dollar with many people? When I asked Mom about it, she said it might help if I traded the dollar bill for change. Then I’d have more pieces of money to share. So I gave her the crisp dollar bill and she gave me ten pennies, two quarters, two dimes, and four nickels.
First, I took two of the nickels and put them into a tithing envelope. I knew that my tithing could help a lot of people and that they wouldn’t know who it came from. So I felt good about that. Now I had ninety cents left.
Aunt Maureen wanted me to let her know what happened, so I asked Mom for a card and wrote:
How I spent my birthday dollar
10¢ for tithing
I looked at the rest of the money and thought hard, but I couldn’t figure out what to do with it.
Mom needed to run some errands, so I put the money in my pocket and went with her. I hoped some ideas would come to me while we were out.
We had just gotten on the bus, when the man in front of us tried to give the bus driver a dollar bill. The driver told him, “It’s fifty cents in exact change only, sir.”
I guess the man didn’t have it, because he looked sad and turned to get off the bus. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my two quarters, and gave them to him. “Here’s the money,” I said.
The man looked surprised but then smiled at me and said thank you twice!
I felt great! After Mom and I sat down, I pulled the card out of my pocket and wrote:
50¢ to a nice man for bus fare
Now I had ten pennies, two dimes, and two nickels left. I wondered what I would do with them.
When Mom and I got off the bus, we walked to the market. On the way, one of the parking meters changed from white to red. A woman was frantically searching her purse for change to put into the meter. I heard her mutter, “Why can’t I find that dime—I know I had one!”
I knew just what to do! I gave her one of my dimes. When she protested, Mom explained why she had to take it. She did, and even though I hadn’t done it without her knowing, I still felt good inside.
While mother was shopping, I wrote on my card:
10¢ for a lady at a parking meter
Now I had ten pennies, one dime, and two nickels left.
Since it was my birthday, we stopped at the ice-cream shop on the way home. I ordered a double-scoop of mint chocolate chip. While we were waiting for our cones, I heard a little girl crying. I turned and saw a lady cleaning up spilled ice cream on the floor. “I’m sorry you dropped it, honey,” she was saying to the little girl. “You can have the rest of my cone.”
“How much is a child’s cone?” I asked the man serving ice cream.
“Twenty-five cents,” he said. So I gave him my two nickels, my dime, and five pennies. I asked him to get the little girl another cone and to promise not to tell her who bought it. The little girl was so excited to have another cone, she did a dance. I grinned so hard I thought my face would break.
When we got back on the bus, I wrote on my card:
25¢ for ice-cream cone
Mom leaned over and patted me on the knee. “I’m proud of you! I know that Aunt Maureen will be too. And Heavenly Father is always pleased when you’re kind to others. Has this been a happy day for you?”
“Yes—I didn’t know I could help so many people with just one dollar!” I pulled out the rest of my money. “But what can I do with my last five pennies?”
Mom tapped me on the arm and pointed out the window of the bus. We were coming to our stop, and there on the corner was a lemonade stand. A little girl and boy were sitting behind a sign that said: 5¢ A GLASS.
“Do you think the bus driver likes lemonade?” I asked my mother.
“I’m sure he does.”
She was right. And so was Aunt Maureen. My dollar was gone, but giving it away made it one of my happiest birthdays ever.

One of my haunting childhood memories begins with the howl of distant air-raid sirens that awaken me from sleep. Before long, another sound, the rattle and hum of propellers, gradually increases until it shakes the very air. Trained well by our mother, we children each grab our bag and run up the hill to a bomb shelter. As we hurry through the pitch-dark night, green and white flares drop from the sky to mark the targets for the bombers. Strangely enough, everyone calls these flares Christmas trees.
I am four years old, and I am a witness to a world at war.
Not far from where my family lived was the city of Dresden. Those who lived there witnessed perhaps a thousand times what I had seen. Massive firestorms, caused by thousands of tons of explosives, swept through Dresden, destroying more than 90 percent of the city and leaving little but rubble and ash in their wake.
In a very short time, the city once nicknamed the “Jewel Box” was no more. Erich Kästner, a German author, wrote of the destruction, “In a thousand years was her beauty built, in one night was it utterly destroyed.” During my childhood I could not imagine how the destruction of a war our own people had started could ever be overcome. The world around us appeared totally hopeless and without any future.
Last year I had the opportunity to return to Dresden. Seventy years after the war, it is, once again, a “Jewel Box” of a city. The ruins have been cleared, and the city is restored and even improved.
During my visit I saw the beautiful Lutheran church Frauenkirche, the Church of Our Lady. Originally built in the 1700s, it had been one of Dresden’s shining jewels, but the war reduced it to a pile of rubble. For many years it remained that way, until finally it was determined that the Frauenkirche would be rebuilt.
Stones from the destroyed church had been stored and cataloged and, when possible, were used in the reconstruction. Today you can see these fire-blackened stones pockmarking the outer walls. These “scars” are not only a reminder of the war history of this building but also a monument to hope—a magnificent symbol of man’s ability to create new life from ashes.
As I pondered the history of Dresden and marveled at the ingenuity and resolve of those who restored what had been so completely destroyed, I felt the sweet influence of the Holy Spirit. Surely, I thought, if man can take the ruins, rubble, and remains of a broken city and rebuild an awe-inspiring structure that rises toward the heavens, how much more capable is our Almighty Father to restore His children who have fallen, struggled, or become lost?

Now let us return once more to our vision of family life. I want to share with you an experience that comes back to me, being here in Rexburg in the fall. On a bright fall afternoon some years ago, I went fishing not far from here with my seven-year old son, Mark. As I splashed up the shallow stream in my waders, I carried him on my back. He held his feet above the water and hugged me tight around the neck, laughing in my ear when I would stumble on the rocks; he said he hoped we'd fall into the water.

We stopped at one spot to fish. I soon looked up at the clear blue sky, almost tasting the crisp fall air. I saw early snow on a distant mountain peak. I drank in the color of autumn leaves in the backlighting of the sun. I saw Mark downstream, skipping rocks on the water. The sun caught the pure whiteness of his blond hair, and his agile form stood out against the shadows of the wooded background.

I felt a sudden rush of feeling that I suppose only a father or mother can know. My heart reached out to touch him as the thought struck me, that he is my son, my own little boy, my posterity, and I am his dad. He is filled with a child's love. I am responsible to God for my conduct as his father. He and I are sealed together, if we are faithful. He is the fruit of the deep love I feel for his mother. The constancy of her daily life is teaching him the way of truth and light. That's why he is so secure, so mentally healthy. Thank God for such a child. What miracles are worked by the laws of nature and of nature's God. In that moment, I felt in harmony with everything I saw. It was a witness to me of the Lord's love.

Eighty-eight-year-old Brother Thomas Coelho is a good example of one who saw with his heart essential things. He was a faithful member of our high council in Paysandú, Uruguay. Prior to joining the Church, he had an accident while riding his motorcycle. While he was lying on the ground unable to stand, two of our missionaries helped him stand up and return to his home. He said that he felt something special when the missionaries came to his rescue. Later he experienced strong feelings again when the missionaries taught him. The impact of those feelings was such that he read the Book of Mormon from cover to cover in just a few days. He was baptized and served tirelessly from that day forward. I remember him riding his motorcycle up and down the streets of our city, even in the cold and rainy winters, to bring others to church so they could feel, see, and know of a surety as he did.

There was a determination about Elmer that I came to admire. He had an appreciation for nature and beauty and loved to see things grow. Every morning you could see him heading out to work in his garden. With the aid of an old walking stick, Elmer would drag his crippled leg behind him. The walk itself was difficult, and keeping the weeds out of his large garden seemed to me to be a monumental task. It wasn’t easy, but he took pride in the beautiful produce that grew there. I would help him when I could. I enjoyed our conversations. He was full of interesting facts that he was willing to share with a listening boy.
He liked to grow unusual things in his garden, and one spring day I remember asking him what he was planting. He replied, “Goober peas.” When I told him I had never heard of goober peas, he gave me some and told me to go home and plant them in our garden. I did, and I watched them carefully as they grew. When I expressed my concern that I couldn’t see any fruit on the vine, he told me to be patient. The day came when it was time to harvest the goober peas. Elmer showed me how to dig around the plants, and was I surprised and delighted to find that under the ground were mounds of peanuts just waiting to be roasted—Elmer’s goober peas.
Over the years I learned many things from Elmer Sessions—lessons about patience, determination, endurance, and long-suffering. I learned that friends can come in a variety of sizes, shapes, and ages. That an old man and a young boy can be friends. Friendships can easily span years when two people are willing to listen and care and reach out to each other.

My great-grandfather, Henry Ballard, joined the Church in England, came to America, and suffered great privation while making his way west to Utah. Likewise, my great-grandmother, Margaret McNeil Ballard, endured much hardship crossing the plains as an 11-year-old girl. As I traveled along the pioneer trail with my family a few years ago, I found myself wondering how my faithful great-grandparents ever survived that trek and how it was possible for them to do what they did throughout their lives. Surely they came to know God and His Holy Son as they willingly gave all that they had to serve Them. Henry Ballard served faithfully as bishop of the Logan Second Ward for just a few months less than 40 years. His devoted wife Margaret served as Relief Society president for 30 years.
Our commitment to the kingdom should match that of our faithful ancestors even though our sacrifices are different. Today in the Church we can find many examples to help us understand that sacrifice for the gospel is still essential and that coming unto Christ requires as much commitment and devotion now as it ever has.
Not long ago, for example, I was assigned to preside over a regional conference in La Paz, Bolivia. Some members came from small towns and villages far away, showing great sacrifice and commitment to attend the meetings. Prior to the priesthood leadership training session, I greeted the brethren as they gathered. I noticed that one older brother’s shirt was a different color from the middle of his chest down; the upper portion was white, while the lower part was brownish red. He and three of his companions, all Melchizedek Priesthood holders, had traveled for many hours, walking most of the way and fording two rivers where the brownish red water came up to their chests. They had flagged down a truck and stood in the back of it for the last two hours of their journey.
Their sacrifice and their attitude about it made me feel extremely humble. One of these faithful men said to me: “Elder Ballard, you are one of the Lord’s Apostles. My brethren and I would do whatever was required to be taught by you.”
Do we have a similar attitude when we are asked to attend stake and ward or branch and district leadership meetings?
We sing, “Sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven” (“Praise to the Man,” Hymns, number 27). This is a true principle. Let me illustrate with a personal experience.
I was named bishop of a suburban Salt Lake City ward in 1958, in the days when local members paid 50 percent of the cost of constructing a building. One of the most important leadership experiences in my life came several weeks before the dedication of our building. Our ward of young families, struggling to make ends meet, still needed to raise U.S. $30,000. I fasted and prayed to know what I should say to them regarding this obligation. We already had pressed them very hard.
As the brethren gathered for priesthood meeting, I was impressed to read to them the testimony that Elder Melvin J. Ballard, my grandfather, bore when he was ordained to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles on 7 January 1919. I quote a small portion recounting his experience in 1917 when he had sought the Lord pleadingly in a situation where there were no precedents for guidance:
“That night I received a wonderful manifestation and impression which has never left me. I was carried to this place—into this room. I saw myself here with you. I was told there was another privilege that was to be mine; and I was led into a room where I was informed I was to meet someone. As I entered the room I saw, seated on a raised platform, the most glorious being I have ever conceived of, and was taken forward to be introduced to Him. As I approached He smiled, called my name, and stretched out His hands toward me. … He put His arms around me and kissed me, as He took me into His bosom, and He blessed me until my whole being was thrilled. As He finished I fell at His feet, and there saw the marks of the nails; and as I kissed them, with deep joy swelling through my whole being, I felt that I was in heaven indeed. The feeling that came to my heart then was: Oh! If I could live worthy … so that in the end when I have finished I could go into His presence and receive the feeling that I then had in His presence, I would give everything that I am and ever hope to be!” (Melvin R. Ballard, Melvin J. Ballard: Crusader for Righteousness [1966], 66).
The Spirit of the Lord touched the hearts of the faithful brethren in my ward’s priesthood meeting that day. We all knew that with greater faith in Jesus Christ, our Savior and Redeemer, we could reach our goal. During that same day, family after family came to my office with money, making personal sacrifices that were far beyond what I, the bishop, would ever have asked of them. By eight o’clock Sunday evening, the ward clerk had written receipts for a little more than $30,000.
Sacrifice truly brought forth the blessings of heaven to the members of our ward. Never have I lived among a people who were more united, more caring, more concerned for one another than those members. In our greatest sacrifice, we became bonded together in the true spirit of the gospel of love and service.

In 2001 Juanita was diagnosed with advanced breast cancer and was given a 50 percent chance for five-year survival. Our best option was to pursue an aggressive but very taxing course of chemotherapy, surgery, and radiation. We were discouraged when after eight weeks of nauseating chemo the large tumor had not shrunk at all. During this trial I went jogging and recited the proclamation as loud as I could to relieve the stress I was feeling. It comforted me.
On one jog when I got to “Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer,” I stopped. I felt a sense of peace as an impression formed in my mind. It was the Saturday morning before fast Sunday, and I felt inspired to send an e-mail to everyone I knew, inviting them to fast and pray and exercise their faith for Juanita so that the chemotherapy would be effective. We received a great outpouring of support. Even friends of other faiths described powerful experiences with fasting and prayer. Without our asking them to do so, friends in Australia, Japan, Hawaii, Salt Lake, Boston, Belgium, and South Africa put Juanita’s name on the prayer roll in their temples. The results were miraculous. Immediately our mood and our faith improved. And during the next four weeks of treatments, the tumor almost totally disappeared. Juanita finished the treatment, and no measurable cancer remained. We were so grateful! But this wasn’t the end of our trials or of the continued comfort the proclamation brought us.
In early 2004 we were devastated to learn that Juanita’s cancer had returned, this time in her lungs. In somber tones our doctor told us he would try to keep the cancer under control as long as possible, but there was now no possible cure. At first I felt betrayed and hopeless. Juanita and I had righteous desires and plans. What about the missions we were going to serve together? What about the grandchildren we were going to strengthen spiritually? How could this happen to us?
As I went through the proclamation again, this time it was as if someone turned a flashlight on to highlight the words “Children are entitled to birth within the bonds of matrimony, and to be reared by a father and a mother.” I recognized my children were entitled to be raised by a father and a mother. This statement filled me with hope that in the face of very large medical odds Juanita would be blessed with a miracle and be healed.
We lived a fairly normal and hopeful life for about six months, but then the cancer began to take its unmistakable toll. Juanita lost weight rapidly and acquired a nearly constant and uncomfortable cough. Even the smallest exertion left her struggling for breath. Things seemed always to get worse and never better. Soon it became apparent that it was not God’s will for Juanita to live very much longer. I was at a complete loss to explain why God had not stepped forward with the miracle we so badly needed and so sincerely hoped for. But then again the words of the proclamation provided inspiration and comfort: “Sacred ordinances and covenants available in holy temples make it possible for individuals to return to the presence of God and for families to be united eternally.” Through many tears my understanding was enlarged to see that Juanita would indeed receive a miraculous healing. Because of the plan of salvation, Juanita would pass from this life into a beautiful place to be greeted by her father, our daughter who had passed away, and the Savior. Because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, Juanita would be healed and at the Resurrection receive a perfect body, free from cancer and any other illness. I could also see that through all eternity our children would have access to her influence as their mother—another miracle.
I also felt impressed that there was much we could yet do in this life to give the children continued access to her wisdom. I received a clear impression that it was time for us to stop focusing our faith on a physical miracle that was not in keeping with God’s will and focus instead on learning as much as we could from Juanita in the short time we had left. We needed to be better prepared “to return to the presence of God and for [our family] to be united eternally.” In our family testimony meeting we expressed these feelings poignantly, and their truth washed over us all. Then we went to work.
Juanita wrote her testimony of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, and I wrote mine as well. We printed and laminated them along with our pictures in a size that would fit in the children’s scriptures. Juanita then wrote long letters in her own hand to each of the children, expressing appreciation and offering words of encouragement and advice. We recorded Juanita’s sweet voice singing hymns, Primary songs, and childhood lullabies and made CDs for each of the children and for future grandchildren. We also recorded messages to be listened to on special occasions such as going to the temple, leaving on a mission, getting married, giving birth to a child. Juanita crocheted baby blankets and bibs for future grandchildren. Our lives now became focused, full of activity, and we received great comfort from the Spirit. All this came as a result of inspiration from the proclamation.
All of our children were at Juanita’s side when she died, and each had the opportunity to share tender communication with her. She was alert and talked to us until about 10 minutes before she passed away. That’s when I told her, “I love you,” and she responded in Spanish, “Lo mismo,” which means “Same to you.” Those were her last words. Her passing was sweet.
I have marveled at the numerous specific and personal ways the proclamation has blessed me and my family since that Saturday night more than a decade ago when I first heard it. It has changed our lives forever. It is the word of God, and it can be the basis for great joy and happiness in family life, even in the midst of unfathomable trials. I know by the Spirit that “The Family: A Proclamation to the World” is an inspired document for families today, and if seriously studied, it will open the windows of divine assistance for our families.