Gospel Story Finder

Lillie couldn’t wait for the lunch bell to ring. She watched the clock as the hands slowly moved to 12:00. She was supposed to be reading quietly, but she was too excited to concentrate. Lunch was her favorite part of the day—a time to be with her new friends, talking, laughing, and making plans for after school.
Lillie had moved a few months ago, and at first she had felt alone and afraid. The first week in Primary, she met one other girl in her class, but she lived far across town and went to another school. Luckily, on Lillie’s first day of school, she was placed in the same sixth-grade class as Teresa. Teresa was very friendly, and now Lillie was part of a fun group. It was hard being the new girl in school, but Teresa and her friends made Lillie feel welcome.
Finally the bell clanged, and Lillie grabbed her sack lunch from inside her desk. Teresa called, “Wait for me by the door. I have to grab my backpack.”
Lillie saw Jackie coming from a classroom down the hall and waved. “Hey, Lillie,” Jackie called over the noisy chatter. “Are you ready for lunch?”
“I am now,” she said as Teresa came up beside her and linked arms with her. Together they followed Jackie to the lunchroom and found a table where everyone could sit. Lillie sat between Jackie and a boy named Brad and quickly unwrapped her lunch. Brad asked if she had seen the game on TV the night before. Jackie discussed her birthday party coming up the next month. Lillie ate her lunch happily.
After lunch most of the others scattered, but Lillie and her friends pushed back their chairs and continued talking. Brad told funny jokes that made everyone laugh. Jackie described something funny her little sister had done. Lillie wished she had something witty and wonderful to say, too, but nothing came to her mind.
Lunch was almost over. The cafeteria workers began cleaning the tables. Teresa imitated a popular movie star, and everyone laughed. Lillie took a deep breath and decided to do something she had never done before. She took the Lord’s name in vain, giggled, then said, “That was so funny, Teresa!”
Suddenly, the lunchroom fell silent. Lillie felt her face grow red with embarrassment as everyone looked at her. Brad shook his head slowly. “Lillie,” he asked softly, “aren’t you a Mormon?”
“Yeah,” Jackie said, “I thought Mormons didn’t swear.”
Lillie felt sick. She couldn’t say anything. The bell rang, and everyone shuffled back to class. Teresa walked beside Lillie, but she didn’t say a word.
All afternoon Lillie wondered why she had said such a thing. She knew it was wrong. She had never said it before. Her teacher asked her several questions about the day’s lesson, but she shook her head and said she didn’t know. She couldn’t wait for school to end so she could go home and hide under her bed.
After school Lillie told Teresa she had to hurry home. She ran from the building, tears in her eyes and a big lump in her throat. When her mother asked about her day, she was too ashamed to answer and hurried to her room.
How had it happened? She had been eager to impress the others, but she had hurt her spirit instead. She knew she had to ask for forgiveness. If her actions had disappointed her new friends, how much more must they have disappointed Heavenly Father?
That night Lillie couldn’t eat her dinner, and it was hard to look at her parents. Finally her father gently asked what was troubling her. The story spilled out, mixed with bitter tears. “Dad, I am so sorry. I feel terrible,” Lillie cried.
Her father put his arm around her shoulders. “That’s an important part of repentance, Lillie. You truly have to be sorry for what you do—or say.”
Lillie wiped her eyes. “Oh, I am, Dad. I’ll never swear again. Never!”
Her father nodded. “Good. Now go tell Heavenly Father what you just told me, and I’m sure you’ll feel better soon.”
As Lillie knelt beside her bed and prayed, she felt her heart would break. She thought of other mistakes she had made and wondered how Heavenly Father and Jesus could continue to love and forgive her. But as she whispered, “I am so sorry,” she felt the peaceful warmth of the Holy Ghost. Finishing her prayer, she was filled with the strength to do one more thing she needed to do.
Lillie shakily dialed Teresa’s phone number. She could barely speak, but she managed to say she was sorry for what she had said at lunch. Then she called Jackie and Brad.
“Do I have to go to school today?” she asked her mother the next morning. She didn’t want to face her friends. What must they think of her?
Her mother hugged her. “Yes. If you don’t, it will be harder tomorrow.”
Teresa found Lillie before school and gave her a quick hug. “I can’t believe you called everyone and said you were sorry. I never could have done that!”
Jackie called from the doorway of her classroom. “Lillie! I have to talk to you about my birthday party, OK? See you at lunch.”
Lillie gave a small sigh of relief and slid into her chair. She never wanted to feel the hurt of a wrong choice again. Even if her friends hadn’t known she was a member of the Church, she would have felt the sting all the same. She was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and from now on she intended to act like it.

Every day at recess, Jason sat under a shady tree and read a book. Most of the other kids played soccer. Jason had played with them before, but he didn’t really like it. He wasn’t very good at running fast or kicking the ball. And being around lots of kids running and yelling made him uncomfortable.
But Jason didn’t like feeling lonely and left out. The other kids seemed to have so much fun! He wanted to have fun with friends too.
One day at recess, Jason looked up from his book. He noticed Kira sitting at a picnic table, reading. Then he saw Mark kicking a rock against a wall. Why weren’t they playing soccer like all the others?
The next day, Jason watched again. Kira was reading at the picnic table, just like yesterday. Mark was sitting on the ground. He was twirling some grass. Jason went back to reading. But he kept looking at Kira and Mark. Maybe they liked doing quiet things too.
That afternoon, Jason talked to Mom. “Every day at recess, I read a book,” he said. “But the other kids play soccer.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Mom smiled. “I was the same way when I was your age. Always reading.”
Jason smiled too. He liked it when he and Mom read books together.
“I thought I was the only one who didn’t like soccer,” Jason said. “But there are two other kids who don’t play either.” He told Mom about Kira and Mark.
“Maybe you could be their friend,” Mom said.
Jason nodded. “Maybe. But I don’t know what to do with them.”
“Well, you and Kira both like reading, but that’s something you do by yourself,” Mom said. “What else do you like to do?”
“I like to play checkers,” Jason said. “And there’s a checkerboard at school.”
“Hmm,” Mom said. “What could you do with that checkerboard? Maybe at recess?” She pretended to think about it.
Jason laughed. “I think I have an idea.”
The next day when the bell rang for recess, Jason grabbed the checkers set. He walked over to the picnic table where Kira was reading. When she looked up, he held up the game. “Want to start a tournament?”
“Maybe,” Kira said. “But there are only two of us.”
“Wait a minute,” Jason said. He ran over to Mark, who was sitting in the grass again.
“Hey, Mark,” Jason said. “Want to play checkers? We could start a tournament.”
Mark smiled. “I play checkers with my dad,” he said. “I’m pretty good at it.”
“OK!” Jason smiled back. “Let’s go play.”
This story took place in the USA.

Many years ago, while I was mending a fence, a small sliver of wood entered into my finger. I made a meager attempt to remove the sliver and thought I had done so, but apparently I had not. As time went on, skin grew over the sliver, creating a lump on my finger. It was annoying and sometimes painful.
Years later I decided to finally take action. All I did was simply apply ointment to the lump and cover it with a bandage. I repeated this process frequently. You cannot imagine my surprise when one day, as I removed the bandage, the sliver had emerged from my finger.
The ointment had softened the skin and created an escape for the very thing that had caused pain for so many years. Once the sliver was removed, the finger quickly healed, and to this day, there remains no evidence of any injury.

While serving as full-time missionaries in Chile, my companions and I had several opportunities to give priesthood blessings. On one occasion, after pronouncing a blessing on a single mother suffering from cancer, we expressed our appreciation for the opportunity of blessing her. Her response surprised us. She exclaimed, “Elders, you are the real blessing.” She continued, “Having worthy priesthood men in my home is the greatest blessing of all.”
As we thought about her comments, we recognized that God really does bless His children through righteous priesthood holders. If we hadn’t been there, ready to fulfill our priesthood duty, she could not have received the blessing we provided. We learned that fulfilling our duty to God meant living worthy to bless and serve others.

Once I acted in the same hasty manner. My wife, Marti, began having problems early in her pregnancy, and I instantly gave her a strongly worded blessing, promising her that her health would be protected and that the baby would live. As soon as I finished I knew that I had acted incorrectly that the unborn baby had actually died.

After fasting and praying, I requested that a fellow priesthood holder assist me to give her a second blessing. This time I carefully listened for the Lord’s guidance and found that I was unable to promise that the baby would live—but rather that Marti would be the mother of other healthy children. That baby did not survive, but we have four children in fulfillment of the blessing. Although in the second blessing I hadn’t said what I wanted to say, Marti and I both enjoyed the peace that comes from the comforting of the Spirit.

Trials and tests apply to rich and poor alike. Years ago I was asked to perform an operation upon a very wealthy man. A surgical biopsy confirmed that he had an advanced cancer that had spread throughout his body. As I reported this news, his immediate response was to rely upon his wealth. He would go anywhere or do anything to treat his condition. He thought he could buy his way back to health. But he soon passed away. Someone asked, “How much wealth did he leave?” The answer, of course, was, “All of it!”
His priorities were set upon things of the world. His ladder of success had been leaning against the wrong wall. I think of him when I read this scripture: “Behold, your days of probation are past; ye have procrastinated the day of your salvation until it is … too late.”

Sometime ago a wife sat with her husband in my office. He had been unfaithful and had submitted himself to the loving influence of Church discipline. I had seen them several times, and the damage to the “heart” of their relationship was slowly healing. He had made much progress with help from his bishop and stake president, and their relationship was perhaps better than it had been in a long time. With tears running down her cheeks, she looked deeply into my eyes and asked, “I know I need to forgive, but how do I do it? My heart does not seem to let go. I think I can learn to forgive my husband, but I feel damaged as though I can never possibly forgive the other woman.”

I gave an inadequate, inconsequential answer to her question, but her words have remained in my mind and surfaced on many different occasions since that time: “I know I need to forgive, but how do I do it?” She needed a transformation of her heart, and she wanted it to be immediate. Her husband wanted badly to be forgiven. She felt that she had made some progress, but when she slipped, he became upset. For him he was either forgiven or not, and it was difficult for him to see that she was making considerable progress on a continuum toward being more forgiving.

At the weekly temple meeting on Thursday, 12 April 1990, after all the agenda items had been covered, President Hunter asked, “Does anyone have anything that is not on the agenda?” No one spoke, so he said, “Well, then, if no one else has anything to say, I thought I’d just let you know that I’m going to be married this afternoon.” There were gasps, then he went on to explain, “Inis is an old acquaintance from California. I’ve been visiting with her for some time, and we’ve decided to get married.”

This was a delightful surprise for the Brethren, who had been concerned about President Hunter’s being alone. And now, happily, they learned that he would have a companion who is outgoing, warm, cordial, and gracious. Since the time of their marriage, Inis has been unfailing in her concern for President Hunter and in her attentiveness to him. It has been a delight for him to have a traveling companion and to show her something of the dimension of Church service, with the many and varied assignments and responsibilities a man of President Hunter’s stature carries. For her part, she has experienced all the joys and emotions that come to the wife of a General Authority, and she quickly learned to speak extemporaneously as she was called on repeatedly to speak in Church settings and missionary meetings. Sister Hunter continues to be a comfort and a joy to him.

I used to home teach a couple in our ward that was not very active in the Church. But they did ask if I would give their son (we will call him Adam) a priesthood blessing to help enable him to stop smoking. Adam is a baptized member of the Church who is about 38 years old but has not been active most of his life. I gave him a priesthood blessing, and afterward I talked to him about his interaction with the gospel, and he told me that he didn't believe The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the only true church and that I wasn't going to convince him otherwise.

Although it was not my job to convince him, I did tell him I had prayed and asked God if this is His Church, and I had received an answer that it is true. I have felt that confirming witness many times. I also told him that God answers specific questions. Adam told me that he didn't feel like God answered his questions. He explained that he prays but does not get specific direction. He went on to say that a long time ago, he prayed about the Church but didn't feel like he received an answer. I testified of God's love and that He does answer prayers. I went on to explain that it is according to God's timing because He knows what is best for us. I told Adam that we have to be ready to accept the answer that God will give us. I also told Adam I have had many experiences when I prayed desperately for direction and answers but didn't always or even often feel an immediate answer. Adam said, "That's unfortunate, and I won't believe if I can't get my answers when I ask." I challenged him to pray about the Church again, asking a specific question; but, if he was to do so, that he needed to be ready and willing to follow the answer he was given.

I came home from that experience to find my wife, Bethany, putting our kids down to sleep. If any of you have ever tried to put kids down to bed, you know the struggle is real, especially when they don't think they are tired. We were having a tough time convincing our two-year-old, Madelyn, to go to sleep. She was obviously very tired, but she wasn't quite ready to give up the fight. As I tried to get her to sleep, Madelyn began to ask for things: first milk, then Mommy. I told her no, but that wasn't what she wanted to hear. Eventually, she got more frustrated and desperate in her pleas: she wanted Grandpa, next Grandma. The more I told her no, the more stubborn she became. Madelyn was not listening. She begged to go for a ride in the car, then she wanted a treat--one thing after another, she cried and begged.

As her father, I knew that what she needed was sleep, and that would be the best thing for her, not any of the other things she was asking for. As she got more frustrated, I stopped answering her; she was not listening and only got more upset when I spoke. I lay next to her and stroked her hair until she fell asleep. It didn't take very long. I learned a powerful lesson about prayer that night, and I took away two main points:
1. God loves us and hears us.I love Madelyn so much. As I think about that experience, I realize that I had stroked her hair to show her love and stayed by her. I also heard everything she asked for. 2. God knows when and how to answer our prayers.He won't answer if we won't listen. I stopped talking to Madelyn; she wasn't rational, and she wasn't listening.

I wonder how often I am like Madelyn in my prayers. God will always show love, but I have to be willing to listen and change what I want to what He wants. He only wants what is best for me.

As secretary of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs for the Cook Islands' government, I once received two conflicting instructions from the Prime Minister and the Minister of Foreign Affairs. The Prime Minister instructed me not to allow a requested New Zealand combined military exercise to take place in the Cook Islands. The Minister of Foreign Affairs instructed me to make sure that it happens. I prayed about that. It then became clear to me. My boss was the Minister of Foreign Affairs and his boss was the Prime Minister. So I followed the guidance of the Spirit and engaged in new initiatives that ensured the project's implementation. As it turned out, it was a very successful combined military exercise program. I was able to clear the matter later with the Prime Minister.

I don’t recall with accuracy when I first became aware of James E. Talmage. I know that some of his books were in my parents’ library and that I had used his Articles of Faith book in preparing the two and one-half minute talks that youngsters used to give in Sunday School. For me, the first memorable introduction to him occurred when I was just nineteen and had received my mission call to Great Britain.

My father had a good friend and associate by the name of Burton Talmage. He was not a son of Elder Talmage but was a close relative. I didn’t know Burt Talmage well, although I had met him several times and I knew how highly he was regarded by my father. When Burt learned of my mission call, he did something that was very kind and really quite extraordinary. Even at that time, I realized that he made the effort not because of me, but because of his affection and respect for my father. Brother Burt Talmage presented to me a beautiful, leather-bound edition of the Articles of Faith with this personal inscription inside, “May you find this book helpful to you on missions.” He then signed his name and the date. He had also imprinted my name on the leather cover just like my missionary scriptures.

To this day, I keep this very special book with the set of scriptures that I used as a young missionary. I have by now used several different sets of scriptures and have also had several paperback copies of the Articles of Faith which I have marked and studied and used, but this wonderful volume holds a special place in my heart. When I received this very remarkable volume, I read it through completely before I began my mission and used it as the basis for missionary study and talks. It quickly became a dear and valued friend and resource.

As I read and studied, finally realizing how little I really knew about some basic things that I fully believed, I found helpful kernels and pleasant surprises in every chapter and on almost every page. Because of his vast vocabulary, I had to look up some of the words that Elder Talmage used, but his meanings were always clear and insightful.

Shortly after I was baptized in Japan during the Korean War, I came back home to San Diego. I had found the truth, and I was sure that everyone in the world was looking for the truth. I was going to give it to them, whether they wanted it or whether they didn’t. I joined a car pool that went from my home in Chula Vista, California, to North Island, my duty station. It was about a forty-five-minute ride in each direction. In the car pool with me were three other lieutenants (I was a lieutenant at the time) and one enlisted man. The enlisted man’s name was George Whitehead; he was a first class ordinanceman. I figured, “This will be a cinch. It will be easy to convert these four. They can’t get out of the car, and the trip is forty-five minutes in each direction. It won’t be long until I’ll have them all in the Church. Then I’ll move into another car pool and convert them. . . . Why, I can convert a whole ward just by going back and forth to work.” I then went to work on those four.

The three lieutenants never heard a word that I said, or if they did I couldn’t tell it, but that enlisted man dared not turn me off. I could tell that George was interested, so when I drove I would let the other three out of the car, park in front of George’s house, and preach the gospel to him for an hour before I’d let him out. I had the pressure on him to come to church. It seemed that he was interested, but he wouldn’t come. It took about four weeks, as I recall, before he finally said, “Well, I’m ready to come to church tomorrow, and my wife, Lucille, is going to come with me.” I found out it was Lucille who had been holding up the works all the time.

I went over to the chapel the Saturday evening before George was coming to church on Sunday, taking with me the young man who had baptized me in Japan. (He was spending a lot of time at my house at that time.) We washed the back door of the church. We really scrubbed it because it was dirty. “You’re crazy, washing the back door of a church,” my friend told me.

I said, “I’m going to wash the back door of the church because George and Lucille are going to come through this door tomorrow, and everything has to be perfect.” (I presume no one looks at the church more critically than a missionary bringing a contact to church for the first time. He wants all the babies to be quiet, the music to be beautiful, and everybody on the stand to stay awake. But perhaps that’s too much to expect.)

They came to church, and we had a great Sunday School class, which I taught. I had planted some questions among members of the class that I felt my contacts needed to hear the answers to in church. And I had all the answers ready, of course. George looked like a sponge, soaking up everything that was said. But Lucille, sitting beside him, looked like a sphinx. You couldn’t tell if she had heard a word that I said; if she had, it hadn’t registered. I could hardly wait. As we walked out of the church, through that clean door (about which I made some comment, I think), I asked Lucille, “What did you think about that? How did you feel about your first visit to the Lord’s church?”

She said, without a smile, “I was born a Methodist, and I expect to die one.”

I hadn’t heard LeGrand Richards’s story at that time about the Englishman and the Scotsman. The Englishman said, “I was born an Englishman, raised an Englishman, and expect to die an Englishman.”

The Scotsman replied, “Have you no ambition?”

I could have used that on Lucille, but it’s a good thing I didn’t because what I did say was “Lucille, I promise you that you’ll never have to give up anything true you’ve learned as a Methodist to be a Latter-day Saint. We have no quarrel with other churches. We don’t write tracts against other churches, and we never will because we are not in the business of tearing down people’s faiths, but rather of building them up.

“To our Protestant friends who believe that salvation is by grace through faith alone, we make no argument because we are not to contend with people. We are to bear witness of what is true. We say to them, ‘We understand your emphasis on faith. We believe, too, “without faith it is impossible to please God.” You must have faith. But there is more to salvation than just faith. There are also certain works you must perform, certain ordinances you must receive, and certain authority you must hold. So come, let us share with you the fulness of the gospel. We won’t take anything from you that’s true; we’ll just add to what you have.’

“To our Catholic friends who believe that salvation is by grace through sacraments, we say, ‘We understand your emphasis on the sacraments–we call them ordinances. We believe them too. Did not the Master say, “Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God” (John 3:5)? We believe that baptism is essential to salvation, but there is more to salvation than just baptism. There are certain works you have to perform, yes, and certain faith you must exercise in the Lord and in your fellowman. There is authority you must hold. So come, let us share with you the fulness of the gospel. We are not going to take anything from you that’s true; we will just add to what you have.’”

That’s essentially what I told Lucille, but she didn’t say a word. She just walked on. That was in 1952.

Six years later, in 1958, I was back in Washington, D.C., still in the navy. The navy sent me out to southern California to do some temple work. As a matter of fact, they didn’t send me to do temple work, but that’s the way it worked out. I went out to go to a special school at USC, and while I was there, I did the work in the temple for my grandparents on both sides of my family, also for my own mother, who had died not having accepted the gospel. As I recall, I sealed one of my grandparents, my grandfather, to two wives and sixteen children. Of course, I’ll have to answer to him one day for that, but I think he’ll be pleased.

The girl who was proxy for two of my grandmothers and for my own mother was the same Lucille Whitehead. This girl, who had been born a Methodist and expected to die one, didn’t quite make it. As a matter of fact, she was ready for baptism just two weeks from the time she made that statement to me, because the Holy Ghost had touched her heart, and she knew the Church was true. As a matter of fact, she was ready for baptism before George, her husband, was. George was in the bishopric of the Oxnard Ward in California just two years after he was baptized.

The last time I saw George and Lucille together, they had two books of family group sheets that were four inches thick. They had both found volumes about their families that someone they had never met had put together without knowing why. All Lucille and George did was to copy off all these names and do the work in the temple for them.

It was about three years ago, I think, at October conference time that the door of my office suddenly opened and in came this sister. She rushed over, threw her arms around me, kissed me on the cheek, and swung me around a couple of times. I said, “Now, this sure is exciting, but who in the world are you, anyway?”

She answered, “Brother Rector, don’t you recognize me? I’m Lucille Whitehead.” (She’d put on a pound or two since I’d last seen her.)

“Well, where are you, Lucille?” I asked.

“I’m the Relief Society president in the Colorado Mission—the whole mission.”

“What is George doing?”

“Why, he is the branch president.” I think the branch was in North Platte, Nebraska.

You see, these are choice people whom the Lord knew. I didn’t know that she was going to do the work for my mother. If you don’t know who the people are around you, the Lord knows, and if you take the opportunity to share the gospel with them, they will have an impact on your life. I testify of that.

“How was school today?” Dad asked as he poured Eddy a glass of milk.
Eddy swallowed a bite of green beans and looked down at his plate. “It was OK.”
“Just OK?” Mom asked.
Eddy nodded. “Some kids laughed at me during reading time,” he said. “I don’t like reading in front of people.”
Some words were hard for Eddy to pronounce, so reading out loud always made him nervous, especially when other kids made fun of him.
“I’m sorry,” Dad said.
“Thanks, Dad. Can you pass the rice, please?”
Eddy knew Mom and Dad probably wanted to hear more about reading time, but he didn’t feel like talking about it. He was glad his big brother, Eric, had lots to say about his first day of soccer practice.
After dinner, Eddy stood up to go to his room.
“Wait,” Eric said. “We almost forgot to read scriptures!”
Eddy’s family had been trying hard to read the Book of Mormon. Reading right after dinner seemed to be the best time because everyone was together. But it was still hard remembering to read every day.
“We almost forgot again!” Mom said. “What can we do to help us remember?”
“Maybe we should pray about it,” Eddy said. “Heavenly Father can help us.”
“That’s a great idea!” Dad said. “Will you say the prayer?”
Eddy nodded and bowed his head. “Heavenly Father, please help us know how we can remember to read the scriptures.”
After the prayer, Eddy and his family talked about some ideas.
“What if we kept the Book of Mormon on the table where we could see it?” Eric asked.
“I like that idea,” Mom said.
“We could tape a reminder on it too,” Eddy said.
Dad smiled. “I’ll go get some tape.”
Eddy cut a strip of white tape and put it on the front of the Book of Mormon. Then he took a marker and wrote “Read!” across the tape.
“There,” he said. “Now we won’t forget.”
Every night, Eddy and his family saw the Book of Mormon on the table. And every night, they remembered to read. It was working!
Eddy liked reading the Book of Mormon. He especially liked the story of Nephi building a ship. Nephi’s brothers made fun of him, but that didn’t stop him. Nephi trusted God, and God helped him do hard things.
“Nephi’s my hero,” Eddy said after reading one night.
A few days later, it was reading time again at school. When it was Eddy’s turn, he heard some kids already starting to laugh. Instead of worrying about what they would say, Eddy took a deep breath and thought about Nephi. A peaceful feeling came into his heart as he said the first word.
When Eddy finished reading, he felt good. He still messed up a few times, but Eddy didn’t care. He knew he had done his best.
“How was reading time?” Mom asked at dinner.
“It was good,” Eddy said. “A few kids still laughed, but it didn’t bug me. I just thought about what we’re reading in the Book of Mormon, and it helped me a lot.”
Dad and Mom smiled.
“We’re so proud of you!” Dad said.
“Thanks!” Eddy said. After dinner, he reached across the table for the Book of Mormon. He couldn’t wait to read what happened next.

“I know when I joined the Church, I too expected everyone to be perfect. It was quite a shock to realize that they weren’t. I began to hear talk, rumors, and criticizing. Then a nonmember friend who had been coming to Church with me regularly commented on some of the backbiting. She said she didn’t think that Mormons were allowed to act that way. The only thing I could think of as an answer was to explain that we all have faults, but I’m not concerned about the faults of others. It is more important for me to do what I know is right and be a good example. In this way I may encourage others to live the gospel more fully. No feelings were hurt with this explanation, and I did not prejudice her against anyone else in the ward.”
Fiona EssonRichmond, British Columbia, Canada

In 2008, she desired to find her paternal grandmother’s family history. Since she had passed away, Anu tried to find her grandmother’s sister. All Anu knew was her name, the city, and that she lived on Temple Street.

Anu traveled to another city, seven months pregnant with her two little children on her quest. When she arrived at Temple Street, she began asking people if anyone knew her. She said, “It was like the Lord’s hand was there, helping”. Each person she asked drew her a little closer until she found her great-aunt. It was like a miracle.

At first, she was worried if she would be accepted. Her great-aunt is Hindu and Anu is a member of the Church. She had only met her once before. However, her grandmother’s sister warmly welcomed her.

Anu eagerly sketched the four-generation family pedigree as they visited for two hours, “she was like an encyclopedia of information”. Anu exclaimed, “It was an amazing experience! I’ll never forget it! I felt a strong connection with my ancestors, like they were waiting for me to get the information recorded.” Anu explained that India’s government didn’t record birth and death dates. Approximate dates were typically remembered by lunar calendar. For example, a birth date may be recorded as five days after the full moon.

The eruption of Tambora affected weather in North America through the following year. Spring gave way to snowfall and killing frosts, and 1816 passed into memory as the year without a summer.6 In Vermont, in the northeast corner of the United States, rocky hills had frustrated a farmer named Joseph Smith Sr. for years. But that season, as he and his wife, Lucy Mack Smith, watched their crops shrivel under the relentless frosts, they knew they faced financial ruin and an uncertain future if they stayed where they were.
At 45, Joseph Sr. was no longer a young man, and the prospect of starting over on new land was daunting. He knew his oldest sons, 18-year-old Alvin and 16-year-old Hyrum, could help him clear the land, build a house, and plant and harvest crops. His 13-year-old daughter, Sophronia, was old enough to help Lucy with her work in the house and around the farm. His younger sons, 8-year-old Samuel and 5-year-old William, were becoming more helpful, and 3-year-old Katharine and newborn Don Carlos would one day be old enough to contribute.
But his middle son, 10-year-old Joseph Jr., was a different matter. Four years earlier, Joseph Jr. had undergone an operation to remove an infection in his leg. Since then he had walked with a crutch. Although his leg was starting to feel sturdy again, Joseph Jr. had a painful limp, and Joseph Sr. did not know if he would grow up to be as strong as Alvin and Hyrum.7
Certain they could rely on each other, the Smiths resolved to abandon their home in Vermont for better land.8 Like others in the area, Joseph Sr. decided to travel to the state of New York, where he hoped to find a good farm they could buy on credit. He would then send for Lucy and the children, and the family could start over.
As Joseph Sr. set out for New York, Alvin and Hyrum walked him down the road before saying goodbye. Joseph Sr. loved his wife and children dearly, but he had not been able to provide them much stability in life. Bad luck and unsuccessful investments had kept the family poor and rootless. Maybe New York would be different.9
The following winter, Joseph Jr. hobbled through the snow with his mother, brothers, and sisters. They were on their way west to a New York village named Palmyra, near where Joseph Sr. had found good land and was waiting for his family.
Since her husband could not help with the move, Lucy had hired a man named Mr. Howard to drive their wagon. On the road, Mr. Howard handled their belongings roughly and gambled and drank away the money they paid him. And after they joined up with another family traveling west, Mr. Howard kicked Joseph out of the wagon so the other family’s daughters could sit with him as he drove the team.
Knowing how much it hurt Joseph to walk, Alvin and Hyrum tried to stand up to Mr. Howard a few times. But each time he knocked them down with the butt of his whip.10
If he had been bigger, Joseph probably would have tried to stand up to Mr. Howard himself. His hurt leg had kept him from work and play, but his strong will made up for his weak body. Before the doctors had cut into his leg and chipped away infected pieces of bone, they had wanted to tie him down or give him brandy to dull the pain. But Joseph had asked only that his father hold him.
He had stayed awake and alert the whole time, his face pale and dripping with sweat. His mother, who was usually so strong, had nearly fallen apart when she heard his screams. After that, she probably felt that she could bear anything.11
As Joseph limped along beside the wagon, he could see his mother was certainly bearing with Mr. Howard. They had already traveled two hundred miles (322 km), and so far she had been more than patient with the driver’s bad behavior.
About a hundred miles from Palmyra, Lucy was preparing for another day on the road when she saw Alvin running toward her. Mr. Howard had thrown their goods and luggage onto the street and was about to leave with their horses and wagon.
Lucy found the man in a bar. “As there is a God in heaven,” she declared, “that wagon and those horses as well as the goods accompanying them are mine.”
She looked around the bar. It was filled with men and women, most of them travelers like her. “This man,” she said, meeting their gaze, “is determined to take away from me every means of proceeding on my journey, leaving me with eight little children utterly destitute.”
Mr. Howard said that he had already spent the money she paid him to drive the wagon, and he could go no farther.
“I have no use for you,” Lucy said. “I shall take charge of the team myself.”
She left Mr. Howard in the bar and vowed to reunite her children with their father, come what may.12
The road ahead was muddy and cold, but Lucy led her family safely to Palmyra. As she watched the children cling to their father and kiss his face, she felt rewarded for all they had suffered to get there.
The family soon rented a small house in town and discussed how to get their own farm.13 The best plan, they decided, was to work until they had enough money for a down payment on land in the nearby woods. Joseph Sr. and the older sons dug wells, split fence rails, and harvested hay for cash, while Lucy and the daughters made and sold pies, root beer, and decorative cloths to provide food for the family.14
As Joseph Jr. got older, his leg grew stronger and he could easily walk through Palmyra. In town, he came in contact with people from all over the region, and many of them were turning to religion to satisfy spiritual yearnings and explain the hardships of life. Joseph and his family did not belong to a church, but many of their neighbors worshipped in one of the tall Presbyterian chapels, the Baptists’ meetinghouse, the Quaker hall, or the campground where traveling Methodist preachers held revival meetings from time to time.15
When Joseph was 12, religious debates swept Palmyra. Although he read little, he liked to think deeply about ideas. He listened to preachers, hoping to learn more about his immortal soul, but their sermons often left him unsettled. They told him he was a sinner in a sinful world, helpless without the saving grace of Jesus Christ. And while Joseph believed the message and felt bad about his sins, he was not sure how to find forgiveness.16
He thought going to church could help him, but he could not settle on a place to worship. The different churches argued endlessly about how people could be free of sin. After listening to these arguments for a while, Joseph was distressed to see people reading the same Bible but coming to different conclusions about its meaning. He believed God’s truth was out there—somewhere—but he did not know how to find it.17
His parents were not sure either. Lucy and Joseph Sr. both came from Christian families and believed in the Bible and Jesus Christ. Lucy attended church meetings and often brought her children with her. She had been seeking the true church of Jesus Christ since the death of her sister many years earlier.
Once, after falling gravely ill sometime before Joseph’s birth, she had feared that she would die before finding the truth. She sensed a dark and lonely chasm between her and the Savior, and she knew she was unprepared for the next life.
Lying awake all night, she prayed to God, promising Him that if He let her live, she would find the Church of Jesus Christ. As she prayed, the voice of the Lord spoke to her, assuring her that if she would seek, she would find. She had visited more churches since then, but she had still not found the right one. Yet even when it felt like the Savior’s Church was no longer on the earth, she kept searching, trusting that going to church was better than not.18
Like his wife, Joseph Sr. hungered for the truth. But he felt that attending no church at all was preferable to the wrong one. Following the counsel of his father, Joseph Sr. searched the scriptures, prayed earnestly, and believed that Jesus Christ had come to save the world.19 Yet he could not reconcile what he felt to be true with the confusion and discord he saw in the churches around him. One night he had dreamed that contending preachers were like cattle, bellowing as they dug at the earth with their horns, which deepened his concern that they knew little about God’s kingdom.20
Seeing his parents’ dissatisfaction with local churches only confused Joseph Jr. more.21 His soul was at stake, but no one could give him satisfying answers.
After saving their money for more than a year, the Smiths had enough to make a payment on a hundred acres of forest in Manchester, just south of Palmyra. There, between jobs as hired hands, they tapped maple trees for their sugary sap, planted an orchard, and cleared fields to grow crops.22
As he worked the land, young Joseph continued to worry about his sins and the welfare of his soul. The religious revival in Palmyra had quieted down, but preachers continued to compete for converts there and throughout the region.23 Day and night, Joseph watched the sun, moon, and stars roll through the heavens in order and majesty and admired the beauty of the earth teeming with life. He also looked at the people around him and marveled at their strength and intelligence. Everything seemed to testify that God existed and had created humankind in His own image. But how could Joseph reach Him?24
In the summer of 1819, when Joseph was 13, Methodist preachers gathered for a conference a few miles from the Smith farm and spread out across the countryside to spur families like Joseph’s toward conversion. The success of these preachers worried other ministers in the area, and soon competition for converts was intense.
Joseph attended meetings, listened to soul-stirring preaching, and witnessed converts shout for joy. He wanted to shout with them, but he often felt like he was in the middle of a war of words and opinions. “Who of all these parties are right; or, are they all wrong together?” he asked himself. “If any one of them be right, which is it, and how shall I know it?” He knew he needed Christ’s grace and mercy, but with so many people and churches clashing over religion, he did not know where to find it.25
Hope that he could find answers—and peace for his soul—seemed to slip away from him. He wondered how anyone could find truth amid so much noise.26
While attending a sermon, Joseph heard a minister quote from the first chapter of James in the New Testament. “If any of you lack wisdom,” he said, “let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not.”27
Joseph went home and read the verse in the Bible. “Never did any passage of scripture come with more power to the heart of man than this did at this time to mine,” he later remembered. “It seemed to enter with great force into every feeling of my heart. I reflected on it again and again, knowing that if any person needed wisdom from God, I did.” He had searched the Bible before as if it held all the answers. But now the Bible was telling him he could go directly to God for personal answers to his questions.
After Much Contemplation, by Al Rounds
Joseph decided to pray. He had never prayed out loud before, but he trusted the Bible’s promise. “Ask in faith, nothing wavering,” it taught.28 God would hear his questions—even if they came out awkwardly.

As I’ve pondered how we receive answers to prayers, my mind was drawn to an experience with our youngest son, Kimball. You see, Kimball has Down Syndrome. This condition makes many physical tasks and skills much more challenging for him to learn than for most of us. One of the skills that Kimball has struggled to learn is how to ride a two-wheel bicycle. Recently, we were made aware of a program called “I Can Bike,” which teaches kids with special needs to ride a bicycle.
It works by using a cone-shaped training wheel for additional stability and a support person jogging alongside. As the rider gains confidence and experience, the size of the cone is reduced and eventually removed and replaced with a normal wheel. The support person also fades into the background. The results of this program have been tremendous, with the vast majority of participants learning to ride a bicycle in less than a week.
Kimball is with us here today. Kimball, would you please come stand beside me for a minute?
Last summer, Kimball participated in this program and, though far from expert status, has newfound freedom, confidence, and joy from the simple pleasure of riding a bike. Here’s a brief video of Kimball in action:
Thank you, Kimball. That was truly inspiring.

When I was young, I attended a specialized preschool for children with autism. It changed the course of my life, so I wanted to give back. I decided to create interactive storybooks to help the children learn how to read.
I’d had multiple ideas for my project and prayed to know which one was right for me. The director of the school helped me know what they needed. I did the planning and organizing, but my family, friends, and quorum members helped a lot with the project. I was able to learn good leadership and planning skills.
Doing this project gave me a greater sense of gratitude for what they do at the school. It made me feel really good to help the school that had helped me so much. They were so appreciative, and they let me read one of the books to the class. I felt so good inside.
Christopher A., Utah, USA

Fifty-eight years ago, I knocked on the door of J. Roland Sandstrom, patriarch of the Santa Ana California Stake, with a recommend from my bishop to receive a patriarchal blessing. We had never met and would not meet again for 14 years. We met again 15 years later. This time, as one of the Twelve, I blessed him the day before he died.
The blessing was delivered by mail to my barracks at an air force base where I was stationed. I did not know then, as I know now, that a patriarch has prophetic insight, that his blessing would be more than a guide to me. It has been a shield and a protection.
The patriarch, who had never seen me before, made a promise that applies to every one of us. He told me to “face toward the sunlight of truth so that the shadow of error, disbelief, doubt and discouragement shall be cast behind you.” Many times I have gained strength from reading that patriarchal blessing given by an inspired servant of the Lord.

I am going to share with you the experience of a young man I will call Luke whose eternal identity and purpose helped him overcome one of the most difficult and pernicious challenges we face.[12] I speak of the deadly threat of pornography. For many years the prophets have warned us about the terrible consequences that follow the use of pornography: marriages and families destroyed, loved ones wounded, the soul chained by addiction, the power of the priesthood lost, and spiritual death.

Luke foolishly ignored the teachings of the prophets and got involved with pornography. Pornography became like a drug he took to satisfy his appetites and relieve his pain.

Through sheer grit and determination and with the support of his bishop, Luke served a mission. But after his return he slipped back into using pornography. One day a young woman he had been dating asked him, "How do you deal with pornography?" In that moment he made a decision to be honest with her. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done. He told her about his past, about how he had overcome pornography, and about his mission. He told her about what had happened to him since his mission and confessed to her that he needed help. She encouraged him to see the bishop and told him that if he did she would support him.

Luke met with the bishop. The bishop helped Luke see that sheer grit was not a permanent solution. Luke faced a ruthless and relentless adversary, and he needed the redeeming and strengthening power of Christ to be completely free of the trap he was in. The bishop encouraged him, but Luke continued to struggle. He would do fine for a while, but would then fall back into his old pattern.

One evening the bishop was meeting with Luke when he received an impression to ask Luke a question. He said: "Luke, what is it about the gospel that you don't understand? What principle or doctrine are you missing? I want you to go home and find that doctrine. Study the scriptures, pray about it, and come and see me."

Luke followed through on the assignment for a few weeks without any success. In fact, he grew even more discouraged. But the bishop asked him to keep searching. One Sunday afternoon Luke walked into the bishop's office smiling. The bishop thought he looked like a new person. Where there had been pain and discouragement, the bishop saw light and hope.

This is what Luke said: "Bishop, I found the doctrine. Wednesday night I was praying for help. As I prayed, a stream of thoughts came into my mind: Your children are preparing to come to earth; you are their father, and you need to be worthy to take their mother to the holy temple and create their eternal family. Bishop, it was almost as if I saw them watching me, hoping I would win this battle. As soon as I had those feelings, the thought of using pornography became abhorrent to me."

Luke still had hard things to overcome. But that understanding of his identity and his purpose gave him a powerful bulwark against the wiles of the devil. He realized that Satan had been trying to steal his identity and get him to think that the guy who used pornography was the real Luke. But through the blessings of the Lord, Luke saw through Satan's lies. He said to the bishop, "That is not who I am."

Luke turned more powerfully and completely to the Savior. He became far more aware of the subtle ways Satan tried to lure him into the path of pornography. Over time the Lord healed Luke and he escaped completely from the trap of addiction. He experienced this marvelous promise of the Lord given through the prophet Isaiah:

Say to them that are of a fearful heart, Be strong, fear not: behold, your God will come with vengeance, even God with a recompence; he will come and save you.[13]