Gospel Story Finder

I’m happy to be a Latter-day Saint here in the Philippines. I like to tell my friends that. My religion has taught me many things that my friends do not know, and one of those things is honesty. Honesty is one simple way to teach my friends to respect me and my religion. An experience that happened recently proved that.
I’d gone to school without eating any breakfast, and during class my stomach kept making this funny sound, telling me I was hungry. So during class recess, I hurried to a nearby street barbecue stall. I took two sticks of the barbecued meat, ate them, then went back to class.
When our teacher asked us to copy something into our notebooks, I reached into my pocket for a pencil and found that my money for the barbecue snacks was still in my pocket! Without hesitation, I ran from the classroom back to the store and paid for my snack. The vendor was so happy he gave me another barbecue stick free.
I went back o the classroom smiling but found a very angry teacher there. I’d forgotten to ask permission to leave, and she wanted to know what I’d been doing.
I told her everything, and to my surprise she put her arm on my shoulder and, facing the class, she said, “Class, I want you to be honest like Julius.”
Then she asked me why I returned the money when I easily could have kept it. I answered, “Because I am a deacon, and my bishop won’t let me pass the sacrament if I’m not worthy.” She didn’t quite understand what I was talking about and asked again why I hadn’t kept the money.
I answered, “Because we believe in being honest.”
“Why? What’s your religion?” she wanted to know.
Without hesitation I said, “I’m a Mormon.”
“Oh,” she responded. “That’s why you were honest.”
My teacher made me feel like a giant that day. I’m glad I followed the thirteenth article of faith, which starts, “We believe in being honest, true. …” Honesty really is the best policy.

Tiffany Roy, of the Port Charlotte Ward in Florida, had an experience in which she was true to the teachings of the Church even though it was uncomfortable.

“I had just moved to another state and started school. There was a group of girls who found out that I was Mormon and started asking me all these questions. When they found out that I would not swear, this little group of girls blocked me from going inside the classroom. They told me that they would not let me go in until I would swear. I told them that we would be sitting there all day because I would not lower my standards for them. The girls let me go inside because they knew I wouldn’t do it. They avoided me the rest of the year. I did not care what they thought of me. I stood true to my faith by doing this.”

Several years ago a group of men, leaders of Scouts, assembled in the mountains near Sacramento for Wood Badge training. This experience, where men camp out and live as do the Scouts they teach, is a most interesting one. They cook and then eat—burned eggs! They hike the rugged trails which age invariably makes more steep. They sleep on rocky ground. They gaze again at heaven’s galaxies.
This group provided its own reward. After days of being deprived, they feasted on a delicious meal prepared by a professional chef who joined them at the end of their endurance trail. Tired, hungry, a bit bruised after their renewal experience, one asked the chef why he was always smiling and why each year he returned at his own expense to cook the traditional meal for Scouting’s leaders in that area. He placed aside the skillet, wiped his hands on the white apron which graced his rotund figure, and told the men this experience. Dimitrious began:
“I was born and grew to boyhood in a small village in Greece. My life was a happy one until World War II. Then came the invasion and occupation of my country by the Nazis. The freedom-loving men of the village resented the invaders and engaged in acts of sabotage to show their resentment.
“One night, after the men had destroyed a hydroelectric dam, the villagers celebrated the achievement and then retired to their homes.”
Dimitrious continued: “Very early in the morning, as I lay upon my bed, I was awakened by the noise of many trucks entering the village. I heard the sound of soldiers’ boots, the rap at the door, and the command for every boy and man to assemble at once on the village square. I had time only to slip into my trousers, buckle my belt, and join the others. There, under the glaring lights of a dozen trucks, and before the muzzles of a hundred guns, we stood. The Nazis vented their wrath, told of the destruction of the dam, and announced a drastic penalty: every fifth man or boy was to be summarily shot. A sergeant made the fateful count, and the first group was designated and executed.”
Dimitrious spoke more deliberately to the Scouters as he said: “Then came the row in which I was standing. To my horror, I could see that I would be the final person designated for execution. The soldier stood before me, the angry headlights dimming my vision. He gazed intently at the buckle of my belt. It carried on it the Scout insignia. I had earned the belt buckle as a Boy Scout for knowing the Oath and the Law of Scouting. The tall soldier pointed at the belt buckle, then raised his right hand in the Scout sign. I shall never forget the words he spoke to me: ‘Run, boy, run!’ I ran. I lived. Today I serve Scouting, that boys may still dream dreams and live to fulfill them.” (As told by Peter W. Hummel.)
Dimitrious reached into his pocket and produced that same belt buckle. The emblem of Scouting still shone brightly. Not a word was spoken. Every man wept. A commitment to Scouting was renewed.

To some, this young woman may not look like she would have much to contribute. She was 17 at the time of the diving accident that rendered her quadriplegic—paralyzed from the shoulders down. She has spent the last 50 years in a wheelchair. After the accident, she was depressed and angry, experienced suicidal thoughts and religious doubts. However, during occupational therapy, she learned to paint with a brush between her teeth, and began selling her artwork. To make a long story short: since then, Joni Eareckson Tada has written over forty books, recorded several music albums, become an advocate for people with disabilities, has a radio show, and is a popular Christian speaker.

An interviewer asked her recently, “At the time of your diving accident, you were just 17 years old. If you could speak to the young woman you were at that age, what would you most want to say?” Listen to her answer:

“As a young girl I was so distracted . . . [and] enamored [of] . . . the world. . . . I had so many options. If I could go back, I’d take myself by the shoulders and shake them and say, “Look at me, Joni, listen: Love Jesus more, obey him more. Follow him more closely—not at a distance. Don’t second guess the Holy Spirit’s whispers and convictions in your heart. Don’t make your own decisions without checking in with God—follow him much more closely.”

Her answer to the next question is also revealing: “How do you feel as you reflect back over the past 50 years?”

Joni said, “Just the other day I was reading 1 Peter 5:10, where Peter says, ‘But the God of all grace, who hath called us unto his eternal glory by Christ Jesus, after that ye have suffered a while, make you perfect, stablish, strengthen, settle you.’ Honestly, I’m amazed that the last 50 years feel like only ‘a little while.’ Maybe God does that when we finally do love Jesus more, when we finally do follow him more closely. Maybe he erases . . . all the despair, all the depression of the past when we learn how to trust God. He pushes into the background all the terrible times of anguish, and he brings forward the highlights—the moments of hope, peace, and growth. As I look back over 50 years, I just see God at work.” [4] Despite formidable challenges, Joni learned to use the gifts she was given to lift and bless others. At the same time, those efforts helped her work toward fulfilling her own divine potential.

Before our baptism, the stake temple and family history consultant helped me prepare my mother’s name and the names of several other deceased ancestors to take to the temple for baptism.
Twenty-five days after our baptisms, on January 19, 2018, my mom’s birthday, we made our first trip to the Newport Beach California Temple. I was nervous and didn’t know what to expect, but when I walked into the temple, I felt so much serenity. It was like nowhere else I had ever been. Our group gathered at the baptismal font, where the temple president explained the importance of baptism for the dead and the blessing it holds. I sobbed for joy thinking of how these baptisms would bless our family.
After Navid was baptized for some of the male members of my family, he baptized me on behalf of some of the female family members. The first person I was baptized for was my dear, sweet mother. When I heard the words “who is dead,” I wept. Hearing it made her death so real that it hurt. But then I thought, what greater gift could I possibly give my mother on her birthday than the gift of baptism in the temple?
I look forward to many more trips to the temple. I am grateful to know that I can help provide blessings to those who have gone before me through the ordinances of the temple. What a wonderful gift!

After spending most of the winter and spring on missionary journeys to Canada, “Elder Young,” as he was now often called, along with Heber C. Kimball, responded to the revelation the Prophet had received calling the Saints to gather at Kirtland. Apparently some of the others who gathered there had difficulty finding the right kind of employment or in getting paid on time, so, contrary to counsel, they went off to surrounding towns for the winter. But as Brigham later remembered, “I told them I had gathered to Kirtland because I was so directed by the Prophet of God, and I … was going to stay here and seek the things that pertained to the kingdom of God by listening to the teachings of his servants, and I should work for my brethren and trust in God and them that I would be paid.”9

Tonight the missionaries came for dinner. The dog barked when they rang the
doorbell.
“Stop that barking, Fifi!” my brother, Malcolm said. He opened the door, still
muttering, “Honestly, that dog thinks she’s human! I, Malcolm the Magnificent,” he
said to the elders, “welcome you to our splendid meal tonight.”
“Hello, young men. Come in out of that chilly air,” Uncle Otto said. “Pay no atten-
tion to Fifi, Elder Brown. A bark and a sniff is her way of saying hi.”
My sister, Ernestine, came in with a tray of burnt little sausages and dried-up
vegetables. “First are the appetizers!” she said proudly. The elders ate them up.
“Now, everyone,” Mom said, “please allow the elders to sit down at the table.”
“Even though I’ve seen the main course, I don’t know exactly what tonight’s
entree is. Mom likes unusual things,” Malcolm said.
“Especially when the missionaries come!” I added.
“Yes, this should be fun,” Uncle Otto said. “I think I heard a moo now and then in
the kitchen this afternoon.”
The elders laughed.
When my sister brought out the dessert, she tripped and the lime gelatin splatted
across the table.
“Look at that green goo flow, Ernestine!” Uncle Otto chuckled. “May I ask you for
that recipe?”
By the time the elders left, not a bite of food was left. Elder Gomez said, “This was
the best meal we’ve had this month so far! I very much hope that you’ll invite us
again soon.”

I chose another hero in that little branch of the Church. He was a United States Marine who came to our meetings wearing his green marine uniform. It was wartime, so that alone made him my hero. He had been sent to Princeton University by the marines to further his education. But far more than admiring his military uniform, I watched him play in Palmer Stadium as captain of the Princeton University football team. I saw him play on the university basketball team and also watched him play as the star catcher on their baseball team.
But even more, he came to my home during the week to show me how to shoot a basketball with both my left and my right hand. He told me that I would need that skill because I would someday play basketball on good teams. I did not realize it then, but for years he was, for me, a model of a true priesthood man.

New Era: Have you had any special experiences in baseball because of your membership in the Church?
Brother Killibrew: All of us have plenty of opportunities to tell someone about it. I remember one day, just after I joined the Church, that I was playing first base and happened to be hitting pretty well at the time. In fact, I was in a hot streak. One player on another team was really struggling and having a tough time hitting. Well, he finally got to first base and said, “Say, what church was that you just joined? I’ll join myself, if it can help me hit the ball like you do!”
New Era: Even before you were a Latter-day Saint, you were well-respected and had a good-guy image. Has your life really changed very much since you joined the Church?
Brother Killibrew: I think my life has undergone a complete change since I joined the Church. It really has. And I’m very thankful for the gospel in my life and for the closeness of our family.
New Era: Besides the change in your life, has the gospel had an influence on your baseball career?
Brother Killibrew: Yes, in many ways. One of the most dramatic was demonstrated when I ruptured the hamstring muscle in my left leg in an all-star game. There was a real question as to whether I would ever play again. I was using crutches. Two bearers of the priesthood administered to me. After that I no longer needed the crutches, and my leg healed up very nicely. The next year was the year I got the Most Valuable Player award.
New Era: How about the Word of Wisdom as a factor for the athlete?
Brother Killibrew: There is no question that it has helped me to keep playing, even with minor injuries. With the rugged schedules that we follow, if a player does not take care of himself in all ways, it’s very difficult for him to do his best day after day. I have a strong personal testimony that the Word of Wisdom is a true teaching and that it has been a definite help to me.
New Era: How do you feel about working on Sundays?
Brother Killibrew: I wish I didn’t have to do it, but it is part of my business and there is nothing I can do about it. I try to attend priesthood meeting on Sunday morning whenever I can. During the off-season, I try extra hard to be active in my elders quorum and all the other programs of the Church.
New Era: How did it feel to win the Player of the Year award?
Brother Killibrew: Good! It felt great! But let’s put this kind of thing in perspective. Being chosen player of the year can’t even compare with the great feeling I had when I went to the temple with my family. That was a wonderful and special experience. It means so much to me to know that we will always be together as a family.
New Era: What advice would you give to Latter-day Saint youth?
Brother Killibrew: Stay close to the Church. If they do that while they’re young, they’ll have a good chance of staying with the Church throughout their whole lives.
I’ve learned that no one ever has to be ashamed of the gospel. People respect you for your beliefs. Sure, I get a little kidding once in a while, but on the whole, people seem to respect me for the principles I follow. I wish all of our Latter-day Saint youth knew this—you don’t have to go along with the crowd when the crowd is wrong. Self-respect and the respect of others will come to the person who stays close to the gospel.

We experienced one of those “only with time” blessings this past February when we attended the naming and blessing of a little Mongolian girl in our expanded missionary family. Her name is Tungalag. Her mother is Davaajargal. She’s a modern-day pioneer as the first woman to be baptized in Mongolia. Tungalag’s father, Sanchir, is an MBA student at BYU.

I knew Sanchir in Mongolia for some time before he became a member. It was only after one year and many, many discussions with dedicated missionaries that he was baptized. It is nothing short of a miracle that this young father, after only two years in the Church, could have uttered the words of this beautiful blessing which began, “Tungalag, I bless you that you will be a good human being.” I’ll never forget that beginning!

In this blessing he said things that he would not have known or even imagined before his baptism. Witnessing this blessing and realizing the extent to which the gospel has changed this young man and this family truly made this a missionary payday.

In those days I often recalled a childhood memory. When I was a boy, The Ed Sullivan Show was one of the most popular programs on television. As a variety show, it featured performers with widely divergent talents. One performer was a man who appeared regularly. Many poles, perhaps a dozen or more, were set up on stage with stacks of dinner plates beside them. This agile individual would spin a plate on top of one of the poles, then move to the next pole and spin a second plate, and then a third and a fourth. As he proceeded down the line of poles, the rotation of the plates on the first and second poles would begin to slow, and the dishes were in danger of falling off and crashing to the floor. Seeing this, the man would quickly run back to those poles and, with a gentle spin, increase the motion that allowed the plates to keep spinning. The excitement of the act was to witness the ability of the performer to expand the number of rotating plates while not letting any fall. Invariably, a point would be reached at which he was not able to keep up. There was a limit to his ability to increase the number and properly care for the plates already in motion. The sight of dishes sliding from their precarious perches and the cacophony as they hit the hard floor vividly proved the point that even the most skilled performer has his limits.

Last December, two small boys extended a very special dinner invitation to Alec Ferguson, Jimmy Rasband, and Brandon Clayton, priests in the Provo Edgemont Stake. The young boys, who came from a high-risk home, invited their teenage friends as guests of honor.
“Apparently they were in a situation where they didn’t have a dad in the family. And so they kind of looked up to us three guys as father figures,” Brandon recalls with a smile. It’s one of his favorite memories of his high school years. He loves spending time with the children who have come to know and love him, Alec, and Jimmy as “the puppet boys.”
For the past three years, Alec, Jimmy, and Brandon have been volunteering their time once a month as puppeteers at Kids on the Move, a care program for children at a local hospital. Recently, the boys added a weekly show at the Family Support and Treatment Center in their hometown of Orem, Utah. In both venues, the boys perform for children in high-risk situations. And although the work can be draining, it’s also the highlight of their week.
“It’s so fun! It’s like being a kid again,” says Brandon.
In the last year alone, Alec, Jimmy, and Brandon have performed more than 100 hours of service with their puppet shows. In doing so, they have completed the service requirements for their Duty to God awards. Each of the boys has also qualified for the Presidential Service award, which is awarded to individuals who have demonstrated outstanding volunteer service and civic participation. But for these boys, it’s not about the awards—it’s about the kids.
“It’s cool to say we did 100 hours of service in a year,” says Brandon, “but I think the best thing that’s come out of this for me is just that great feeling that you get knowing that you’ve helped someone or that you’ve brought a smile to a child’s face—a child that probably doesn’t get that happiness too often in life.”
Alec, Jimmy, and Brandon are famous among the children at both facilities. The children frequently ask when the puppet boys are coming. When the three teenagers walk through the door, they are greeted by countless hugs and shouts of delight. The puppet shows that they perform last only about 20 minutes, but the boys often stay for several hours to play with their young friends. Each of the boys has made a connection in his own way with the children they serve.
“Brandon will really get into playing with the kids, and they love him for it. Sometimes 15 kids just come to him at the same time. He’s really lovable when it comes to the kids,” says Alec.
Brandon says, “Jimmy is always there for the kids that maybe don’t look like they have someone giving them one-on-one attention. Jimmy goes right over there and makes friends. He’s always there for them when they need him.”
In addition to doing the puppet show, the boys draw pictures with the children. Alec’s artistic talents make him a favorite. “They’re fascinated by Alec’s drawing ability,” says Brandon. “I’ve seen it where literally 18 kids have come up and asked him to draw a picture for each of them. And he does it just for the kids.”
Jimmy says his friends’ enthusiasm and willingness to serve are the reasons for their special relationship with the children. “They go and actively participate and play with all the kids. I think with little kids it’s often that you just have to be there.”
Francesca Lawson, Alec’s mother, often goes with the boys when they perform their shows. She describes the response of the children’s mothers. “There was one mother who said, ‘My children don’t have many positive role models in their lives. My boys really look forward every month to coming and being with these guys, because they’re positive male role models.’ I was touched by that. I don’t think these boys totally understand what a difference they’ve made.”
All three boys feel that the experience has blessed them with greater understanding.
“It’s not like it takes special people to be able to give service,” says Alec. “It’s not difficult, and it’s not necessarily very time-consuming. A hundred hours out of a year is not a lot at all. I don’t think enough people give service.”
Jimmy says he learned the importance of taking time to get to know individual children, because “the worth of souls is great in the sight of God” (D&C 18:10).
Brandon says he has gained a closeness to the Savior and a greater understanding of charity. “It’s helped me to be more Christlike. And in a lot of ways, I feel closer to the Lord, especially when I’m serving. It makes me feel like I’m doing good in life—like I’m doing okay.”
If these three friends should ever wonder whether they’ve done any good, they need only remember the words of one small boy who recently announced that when he grows up, he wants to be a volunteer—just like the puppet boys.

President James E. Faust once told of applying for Officer’s Candidate School in the United States Army. He said:
I was summoned before the board of inquiry. My qualifications were few, but I had had two years of college and had finished a mission for the Church in South America.
The questions asked of me at the officers’ board of inquiry took a very surprising turn. Nearly all of them centered upon my beliefs. “Do you smoke?” “Do you drink?” “What do you think of others who smoke and drink?” I had no trouble answering these questions.
“Do you pray?” “Do you believe that an officer should pray?” The officer asking these questions was a hard-bitten career soldier. He did not look like he prayed very often. . . . I wanted to be an officer very much. . . .
I decided not to equivocate. I admitted that I did pray and that I felt that officers might seek divine guidance as some truly great generals had done. . . .
More interesting questions came. “In times of war, should not the moral code be relaxed? Does not the stress of battle justify men in doing things that they would not do when at home under normal situations?”
. . . I suspected that the men who were asking me this question did not live by the standards that I had been taught. The thought flashed through my mind that perhaps I could say that I had my own beliefs, but I did not wish to impose them on others. But there seemed to flash before my mind the faces of the many people to whom I had taught the law of chastity as a missionary. In the end I simply said, “I do not believe there is a double standard of morality.”
I left the hearing resigned to the fact that these hard-bitten officers would . . . surely score me very low. A few days later when the scores were posted, to my astonishment I had passed. I was in the first group taken for Officer’s Candidate School! . . .
[And then President Faust, realizing how small decisions can have large consequences, said:] This was one of the critical crossroads of my life.

“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.”

Crystal was in high school and Angel was six years old when their mother could no longer look after them. I offered to take them in. “I promise I will never leave your children,” I said. “I will take good care of them.”
Years later, another young mother asked me to take in her baby, Allison. This mother faced difficult circumstances and knew I could give her baby a good life. I took Allison in.
I try to teach these children the important things in life. I bring them to church and try to help them grow closer to God. I know that when I am nearer to Him, I can do so much more, even the things I think are impossible. Of course, I want that for Crystal, Angel, and Allison.
These children have suffered in life, but I’ve watched the gospel and the Spirit heal their hearts. I’ve watched their perceptions and behaviors slowly change. Together we pray for their birth parents, because no matter what, I want them to respect and love them.
I love Crystal, Angel, and Allison as if they were my own children. Sometimes people ask me if I will regret my decisions. What if Allison’s mother decides to take Allison back? Will I regret loving Allison and becoming attached to her? But why should I regret it? Helping other people is nothing to regret! It’s something to be grateful for.
I am so grateful for Crystal, Angel, and Allison. Thanks to them, I have learned how to be a mother. I learned how to wake up in the middle of the night for diaper changes, how to teach young children to pray, how to love more deeply than I thought possible. That is something I didn’t think I would ever have.
Perhaps my calling in this world is to take care of those that don’t have mothers or are far away from their mothers.

As youth around the world make the effort to attend seminary, they’re receiving strength in much more than scripture study. Cameron Lisney of England found that he was blessed in all areas of his life. “Not only does seminary help with the spiritual side of things, but it also helps with school and education,” says Cameron.

He says that “an early start to the day gets your brain into gear. Some of my friends said they were too busy to attend—well, it’s not like you’re going to be reviewing math at 6:00 a.m., are you?” As you study, “the Lord will help you in your exams, and if you go to seminary, He will help you even more,” says Cameron.

Of course, seminary helped Cameron strengthen his testimony as well. He says, “The beginning of my testimony came from the seminary program. At the youthful age of 14, I was really struggling in the gospel. I did not enjoy church, and I got up to things that I shouldn’t have. It was only a matter of months before I would have given up entirely.” But when a friend invited Cameron to attend seminary, he decided to go with her. Then the blessings really began to come.

“I began to feel the Spirit again,” says Cameron. “I started paying more attention in church and attended my Sunday School and priesthood lessons. It became easier, and I started to feel happier. I finally gained a testimony of the gospel for myself.” After two months of seminary, Cameron met with his bishop and was ordained a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood.

Cameron knows that seminary helps him stand strong against the temptations of the world. “As seminary continued,” he says, “I found it easier to deal with the challenges that the world presents. It’s pretty tough being a youth in the world we live in—sin is surrounding us from all sides. I testify to you that if you attend seminary, you will find the strength to defend yourself against it. Seminary creates a spiritual shield to protect you. Many different trials and temptations have been thrown my way, and seminary has been such a huge help in keeping me on the strait and narrow.”

In the spring of 1972, President Spencer W. Kimball, who was serving as the Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, was very ill. Throat cancer had returned, and his heart was threatening to fail due to a clogged artery and a malfunctioning valve. He was seventy-seven years old. The cancer was stopped with cobalt treatments, and his physicians recommended a complex surgical procedure on his heart, with only some chance of success.
In a meeting with his doctors and President Harold B. Lee of the First Presidency, President Kimball said wearily, “I am an old man and ready to die.” He wondered whether, at his age, it made sense to fight so hard to extend his life when, perhaps, his time had come. President Lee arose and said with power, “Spencer, you have been called! You are not to die! You are to do everything you need to do to care for yourself and continue to live.”
Spencer did not give up and die. He was not a man who gave up, no matter how difficult the task.
The surgery was performed and was successful. While he was recovering, President Joseph Fielding Smith passed away. Eighteen months later, President Harold B. Lee also passed away, and Spencer W. Kimball became the twelfth President of the Church. Considering his age and health history, most people expected his administration to be a brief “caretaker” period. But instead, it was a vigorous time of miracles. For the next twelve years, in the words of Elder Neal A. Maxwell, “one often got the feeling that [President Kimball] was always on the next ridge waiting for the Church to catch up. Though he smiled at us and beckoned us, he would like to have seen us move more than just a bit faster.”
He talked about the importance of missionary work and challenged us to “lengthen our stride.” He said, “It seems to me that the Lord chose his words when he said ‘every nation,’ ‘every land,’ ‘uttermost bounds of the earth,’ ‘every tongue,’ ‘every people,’ ‘every soul,’ ‘all the world,’ ‘many lands.’” He urged us to pray that the hearts of leaders of oppressive governments would be softened and that they would allow the missionaries to come into their lands. The number of missionaries doubled, and nearly three million people came into the Church. At the time of his death, 60 percent of the stakes in the Church had been created during his time as President.
He stressed the importance of temple work, and the number of temples rose from fifteen to thirty-seven, with several others announced or under construction.
He discussed the importance of the family as the basic unit of the Church, and a new Sunday meeting schedule was introduced to give families more time together.
A new English hymnbook was published; it became a standard for many language editions that later followed.
He taught the importance of scripture study, and new editions of the standard works with more extensive cross-referencing and a better topical guide were published. Individuals and families were encouraged to study the scriptures. Two revelations were added to the scriptures—the vision of the celestial kingdom given to Joseph Smith (D&C 137) and the vision of the redemption of the dead given to President Joseph F. Smith (D&C 138).
The First Quorum of the Seventy was formally organized and expanded, so that there were more General Authorities to handle the responsibilities of a rapidly growing worldwide church. Men from half a dozen nations were called to that Quorum. All the General Authorities, including President Kimball, traveled extensively, and area conferences were held in many cities on six continents.
But perhaps the most exciting moment occurred in June 1978 when the Lord revealed that the time had come to extend the priesthood to worthy men of all races. (See OD 2.)
Every good teacher knows that one of the best ways to get the attention of students is to whisper. President Kimball whispered, not because he wanted to, but because cancer had taken most of his vocal cords. And he got our attention! We listened raptly to his inspired counsel:
“I find that when I get casual in my relationships with divinity and when it seems that no divine ear is listening and no divine voice is speaking, that I am far, far away. If I immerse myself in the scriptures the distance narrows and spirituality returns.”
“Grow all the food that you possibly can on your own property.”
“We ask you to clean up your homes and your farms. … Make our properties a thing of beauty to behold.”
“Every person should keep a journal and every person can keep a journal.”
“Suffering can make saints of people as they learn patience, long-suffering, and self-mastery.”
“Marriage can be successful as long as selfishness does not enter in.”
“The spectacle of a nation praying is more awe-inspiring, more powerful, than the explosion of an atomic bomb.”
“Security is not born of inexhaustible wealth but of unquenchable faith.”
“I know that Jesus Christ is the Son of the living God and that he was crucified for the sins of the world. He is my friend, my Savior, my Lord, my God.”
Surely the Lord had prepared Spencer W. Kimball for just this time, had known of his unique talents, had seen him grow through many trials, and knew that he was the man who could lead the Church in a time of such growth and excitement.
He was born 28 March 1894 in Salt Lake City, the sixth child of Andrew and Olive Woolley Kimball. When he was three years old, his father was called to be president of the St. Joseph Stake in southeastern Arizona, so the family made the four-day move south.
Spencer thrived in the Gila Valley, but he also learned sorrow. There his mother died when he was just eleven years old. Four of his sisters also died.
The first World War thwarted his hopes for more advanced education, but he served a mission in the central United States and later married Camilla Eyring, who was a school teacher. They had three sons and a daughter. He established his own insurance business, was active in community affairs, and served in Church callings as diverse as music director, stake clerk, and stake president.
One youthful experience tells us much about his personality and abilities. When Spencer was fourteen, he attended a meeting in which the speaker asked how many in the congregation had read the Bible. He felt miserable that he could not raise his hand. He wrote, “That very night at the conclusion of the sermon I walked to my home a block away and climbed up to my little attic room in the top of the house and lighted a coal-oil lamp that was on the little table, and I read the first chapters of Genesis. A year later I closed the Bible, having read every chapter in that big and glorious book.”
He learned to work hard and long on his father’s farm, and he was not one to give up easily. When he was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles in 1943, he was shocked, overwhelmed, and humbled. In his first talk as an Apostle at the October 1943 general conference, he testified:
“I remember reading that Jacob wrestled all night, ‘until the breaking of the day,’ for a blessing; and I want to tell you that for eighty-five nights I have gone through that experience, wrestling for a blessing. Eighty-five times, the breaking of the day has found me on my knees praying to the Lord to help me and strengthen me and make me equal to this great responsibility that has come to me.”
The announcement of the June 1978 revelation also illustrates his patience: “We have pleaded long and earnestly in behalf of these, our faithful brethren, spending many hours in the Upper Room of the Temple supplicating the Lord for divine guidance.
“He has heard our prayers, and by revelation has confirmed that the long-promised day has come when every faithful, worthy man in the Church may receive the holy priesthood” (OD 2).
Perhaps Spencer W. Kimball’s patience and tenacity were just the qualities needed to bring about this great blessing from the Lord.
In a speech to a group of servicemen shortly after he had been called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, Elder Kimball expressed his feeling of humility and wonder that such a call could come to him. But then he said, “I don’t know exactly why the Lord has called me, but I have one talent to offer. My father taught me how to work; and if the Lord can use a worker, I’m available.”
He became a legend for his energy, his long working hours, and the way he applied his motto—“Do It”—to himself. But always evident in his life was his great love of people. In fact, he often described himself by saying, “I love people.”
He had a special love for the Lamanites. In his patriarchal blessing he was told, “You will preach the gospel to many people, but more especially to the Lamanites.”
As a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, he was given responsibility for the Indian mission and later for the South American missions. President George Albert Smith gave him a special charge to look after the Indians throughout the world.
Stories abound of his kind acts and thoughtfulness. One snowy day when many airline flights had been canceled, thousands were stranded in a busy airport. A young mother and her two-year-old child waited in line after line trying to buy a ticket. The child was tired and hungry, and the mother was pregnant and could not carry her child. As the child sat whimpering on the floor, the mother moved her along with her foot. As people behind her in the line muttered and criticized, the young mother wanted to cry.
Then a man approached her with a kind smile on his face, “Young lady, it appears to me that you need a little help.” He took the child in his arms, comforted her, and gave her a stick of chewing gum. After he told the other people of the woman’s plight, they agreed to let her go to the front of the line. The man took her to her flight. As she boarded the plane, she thought, “What a wonderful man, and I don’t even know his name.” A few days later, she saw his picture in a newspaper and learned that he was Elder Spencer W. Kimball of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
On another occasion, a bishop in South America asked if Elder Kimball could bless a dying man in the hospital between stake conference sessions. They raced to the hospital and ran up the stairs and down the hall. As they entered the room, the bishop recalled, “There was an amazing change. Elder Kimball seemed to have all the time in the world.” They visited unhurriedly, administered to the man, and took their leave. Once out the door, they ran to the car and sped back to the conference.
Many people, sick in the hospital, were blessed and comforted by a much sicker Spencer Kimball during his many hospital stays. He once said, “My life is like my shoes—to be worn out in service.”
He spent a great deal of time counseling those who had become weakened by sin or were struggling with adversity. The sorrow and joy he shared with them inspired his books The Miracle of Forgiveness and Faith Precedes the Miracle, which have, in turn, inspired many more members of the Church.
Had Spencer W. Kimball died at the age of seventy-seven, he would have lived a marvelous life as a missionary, husband, father, businessman, stake clerk, stake president, and, for thirty years, Apostle. His many struggles with poor health, his acts of kindness, his loving wisdom would have stood as a monument to him.
But, at an age when most people retire and take their ease, he was given the greatest challenge a man could have. He accepted a calling he never expected to have and magnified it in such a way that millions of people, living and dead, were blessed.

When I found out I was going to be a part of a Face to Face event, the thing that excited me most was the opportunity to work with an Apostle.
I was nervous before the broadcast because I needed to say some things in Portuguese. I said to Elder Soares, “I’m worried my American accent is going to come through.” He replied with a smile and a wink, saying, “Max, accents are charming!”
I felt the Spirit so strongly when I heard him witness that the Savior lives and loves all of us individually.
Max A.

Several weeks after I taught this concept to my Old Testament class at BYU while we were studying the book of Deuteronomy, a young lady shared with me a letter she had written to her parents. The concept of being God's "peculiar treasure" through a covenant of love had had such an impact on her that she felt compelled to write to her parents and express her love to them. Her feelings, I believe, have a relevant message for all of us here today.

"Dear Mom and Dad:
"What a day! I just had a wonderful experience in my Old Testament class. I knew that if I tried to call and tell you about it that I would just be one big blubber puss.

"We just studied Deuteronomy as a covenant of love. Moses is sort of giving his farewell address to the Israelites. As I thought to myself what I would say to these stupid, murmuring, slow-to-remember, quick-to-sin people, Deuteronomy became more like a message of fear rather than a covenant of love. I thought, if I were Moses I wouldn't waste my time reminding them of all that the Lord had done for them. No, I'd remind them of my rage at Sinai . . . I'd scare them into obedience. Well, I thought that would be a good idea. So, why didn't Moses do it? Maybe it had something to do with Moses' connections; maybe he knew something I didn't. Seriously, why did Moses use his last words to remind Israel of the incredible love God had for them. Brother Top, in our class discussion, helped me answer my own question.

"First of all, fear is not a lasting motivation. We read in the scriptures that we are supposed to "fear" God. Well, I was right on top of that one. "Fear means to respect," I thought to myself. Right? Well, sort of. It actually means to revere. It means adoration. It means love and love inevitably leads to obedience, service and righteousness. In fact, it is only through love that these actions are not burdensome. Brother Top gave an example in class of this concept. He told of a husband who cleaned the house and made dinner for his wife who had spent the whole day teaching their daughters how to ski. His point was that the husband didn't do this work begrudgingly. In fact, he was glad to do it, because he loved her so much. You see, it's imperative that the covenant between God and Israel be based on God's perfect love for his children. If we knew how much Heavenly Father really loves us, we would give up our sins and be totally righteous. Now this is the part where I started to bawl.

"I don't think I've voiced this concern at any time in my life, but I've always had this nagging little question as to why I've always been such a goody-goody. I don't mean to say that I've lived a sin-free life, but the fact is that I have passed up a lot of tempting opportunities to mess up. Why have I been such a "good girl?" I remember, even as a little kid, passing up some mischievous little crime with my friends and hearing them honestly say, "No way, I can't do that; my parents would kill me." But I was never afraid of you. Then today in my religion class, the answer came to me. It just overwhelmed me. If I have ever made a truly righteous decision, it has only been because I have wanted to. And I've only wanted to because I love you so much because you loved me first. It's not that I feel obligated to be righteous--I WANT TO BE RIGHTEOUS--to honor you. Even away from you I never want to do anything that would dishonor you. Every aspect of my testimony stems from your love for me.

"Mom and Dad how can I ever thank you enough? I love you so much. Today as we talked about the love Heavenly Father had for the Israelites, I feel like I caught a glimpse for the first time of how much He loves me, because it's like the love you have for me. That love helps me want to do good and be righteous. What an important lesson from Deuteronomy. Look what the Old Testament has done to me--I'm a wailing wreck now. Man, who would have though those Israelites could play such a big part in teaching me one of the most important lessons of my life?"
Wow--what a letter!

Our house is far from the Church building, so my sister and I have to plan ahead to get to our meetings on time (or early, hopefully)!
We wake up at 4:00 a.m. and walk to my aunt’s house, which is on the way to the Church building. We change from our walking clothes into our dresses. Then we walk again for another 30 minutes to get to the Church building (or sometimes 25 minutes if we walk really fast). Because we prepare for Sundays ahead of time, we’re never late! Well, almost never. The road gets really muddy when it rains. One time it rained so much that I got stuck in the mud and couldn’t move!
But it’s all worth it once we get to church. I feel peace and joy talking about the gospel and spreading the glad tidings of our Savior. I love sharing my testimony every fast and testimony meeting! My Sunday School classes are also a great place to share my insights about the gospel of Jesus Christ and learn from others too.