Gospel Story Finder

As a teen I studied in a technical school for young men. It was hard to be a member of the Church in an atmosphere where there were other beliefs or no beliefs at all. Being the only member in school was difficult because I felt alone; I felt different. My classmates were relatively good, but many didn’t share my principles.
I remember well one time when they wanted to get me to smoke. They didn’t say it directly. Instead, one of them lit a cigarette while we were in our classroom waiting for the professor. We weren’t supposed to smoke inside the school.
I was sitting in the back. The guys at the front of the room lit the cigarette, and they each took a puff and passed it on. Everyone was watching to see it get to me. Finally the guy in front of me took a puff and turned around.
I didn’t take the cigarette.
He said, “Come on. Go ahead.”
“No, I’m not going to smoke.”
He took the cigarette and put it to my mouth. So I hit him. He hit me back. Then almost everyone in the room started to fight, though we quickly calmed down before the professor got there.
Now I’m not saying that was the right way to respond, but I was only 13. I didn’t know how to respond. I just knew no one was going to make me smoke.
After class I found the boy I had hit and asked his forgiveness. With some emotion, he told me, “No, I’m the one who needs to ask your forgiveness.”

Some years ago, as a pilot, I was taken by an instructor up in an airplane. By turning the airplane at less than two degrees at a time, the instructor succeeded in turning the airplane completely upside down. My inner ear could not detect the transition because he kept positive gravity upon us at all times. Therefore, I did not know that, when he gave the airplane to me, it was upside down. Everything on the airplane, every instrument, was exactly right except for the landing gear, which was upside down; and every reaction I made had an opposite reaction from what I thought it would have. This is called vertigo, and it taught me a great lesson.

While I was serving as president of the West European Mission I had the opportunity of association with some of the servicemen stationed there. The president of the servicemen’s stake told me an interesting story.
He said that while he was executive secretary in the stake, the general of his army unit called him and told him he would like to have him serve as his assistant, which would require him to accompany the general wherever he went. Recognizing how this would affect his Church position and his responsibilities to his family, the brother told the general he would have to forego this assignment.
The general said, “Do you mean you would turn your back on this promotion because of your family and your Church?”
The brother said, “Yes, that is what I mean.”
The general said, “Well, then, forget it.” But he called back in a few days and said that he still wanted him for the job, that he would make the necessary adjustments for the man to carry out his responsibilities to the Church and to his family.
Another of the servicemen who had served a full-time mission told me he had baptized more converts during a year in the service than he had in two and one-half years on his mission in France. This is how we remember who we are and act accordingly.

President David O. McKay was the ninth President of the Church. In his boyhood he desired to know, as Joseph Smith had known, of the reality of God the Father and his Son, Jesus Christ. One day while herding cattle in the foothills near his home, he sought a testimony through prayer. He said:
“I dismounted, threw my reins over my horse’s head, and there under a serviceberry bush I prayed that God would declare to me the truth of his revelation to Joseph Smith” (quoted in New Era, Jan. 1972, p. 56).
He prayed fervently and sincerely with as much faith as he could find within him. When he finished his prayer, he waited for an answer. Nothing seemed to happen. Disappointed, he rode slowly on, saying to himself at the time, “No spiritual manifestation has come to me. If I am true to myself, I must say I am just the same ‘old boy’ that I was before I prayed” (p. 56).
A direct answer to this prayer was many years in coming. While serving a mission in Scotland, Elder McKay received a powerful spiritual manifestation. He later commented: “Never before had I experienced such an emotion. … It was a manifestation for which as a doubting youth I had secretly prayed most earnestly on hillside and in meadow. It was an assurance to me that sincere prayer is answered ‘sometime, somewhere’” (quoted in Francis M. Gibbons, David O. McKay [Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1986], p. 50).

Beautifully exemplifying the theme of our conferences was a talk given by Elder Boyd K. Packer on “the voice of warning.” He began by quoting from the first section of the Doctrine and Covenants, wherein the Lord said:
“The voice of warning shall be unto all people, by the mouths of my disciples, whom I have chosen in these last days.
“And they shall go forth and none shall stay them, for I the Lord have commanded them.” (D&C 1:4–5.)
He then referred to the recent collapse of the Teton Dam in Idaho, and graphically described what happened on that occasion as houses, churches, and whole towns vanished. In all, 790 homes were destroyed, and 800 others were severely damaged, as were schools, churches, business houses, etc. About 7,800 people were in the immediate path of the flood, and farther down the valley another 25,000 or 30,000 were in danger. I quote:
“But what happened to the people that Saturday morning? There was a miracle! There were several deaths, but only six of them by drowning. How could such terrible destruction take place with such a little loss of life?
“The answer: they were warned. A number of them had been subjected to a restless, anxious feeling that morning, and so responded instantly when the warning came. They heeded the warning. Latter-day Saints pay attention to warnings. They have read the revelation which states:
“‘For this is a day of warning, and not a day of many words. For I, the Lord, am not to be mocked in the last days.’” (D&C 63:58.)
Elder Packer stated that by scientific calculations 5,300 lives might have been lost, but there were so few. And it was not a case of going upstairs onto the roof. The houses were completely washed away, and most of the people had miles to go to reach high ground. They were saved because they heeded a warning and then warned their neighbors.
He quoted again from the revelations: “And let those whom they have warned in their traveling call on the Lord, and ponder the warning in their hearts which they have received. … Behold, I sent you out to testify and warn the people, and it becometh every man who hath been warned to warn his neighbor.” (D&C 88:71, 81.)
Then he said: “That is how they were saved. Everyone, when warned, raised the voice of warning to his family and to his neighbors. … Do you think they were casual about it? That is not the way it happened. The warnings were shouted and screamed. Horns were honked. Every means was used to sound the warning. ‘Come out of the valley. A flood is coming!’
“Of the six drowned, one stood just below the dam and had no chance. The others either failed to heed the warning or went back to get something. Every man who was warned, warned his neighbor. There are chapter after chapter of miracles. The whole episode stands as a mighty miracle. And the whole disaster looms itself as a warning.”

One such pioneer in Ghana is Joseph W. B. Johnson. Brother Johnson was converted after prayerfully reading the Book of Mormon in 1964. He relates that following his conversion “one early morning, while about to prepare for my daily work, I saw the heavens open and angels with trumpets singing songs of praise unto God. I heard my name mentioned thrice: ‘Johnson, Johnson, Johnson. If you will take up my work as I will command you, I will bless you and bless your land.’ Trembling and in tears, I replied, ‘Lord, with thy help, I will do whatever you will command me.’ From that day onward, I was constrained by the Spirit to go from street to street to deliver the message that we had read from the Book of Mormon.”

When the missionaries arrived fourteen years later, there were already many unbaptized congregations that Brother Johnson had organized, identifying themselves with the Church. Some of these early converts later rejected official membership in the Church, but many accepted it. A foundation had been established upon which later missionary work would build with increasing success.

Stacie Lloyd, 18, Draper 8th Ward, Draper Utah North Stake. Stacie entered BYU in the fall as a freshman. She needed to earn as much money as she could for college. She and her parents agreed that she would pay tuition, and they would help with housing and food.

Stacie had a regular job in a flower shop, but it was a slow time for florists and she was needed only in the afternoons. She got a second job working in the mornings at a local restaurant as a prep girl, making the salads and cutting up vegetables and garnishes. Since she is paid hourly, she didn’t always know precisely how much her paychecks would be. Here is what Stacie estimated her income and expenses would be for one month, and then what actually happened:

Estimate
Actual
Income
$495.00
$526.35
Expenses
tithing
49.50
52.64
savings
315.00
326.69
lunches
20.00
22.00
miscellaneous
25.00
33.69
gas
13.00
4.00
fun
35.00
35.00
clothes
35.00
37.00
total
$492.50
511.02

Stacie followed her plan fairly closely. She only had a few minor problems. She had used up her lunch budget by the middle of the month, so she chose to cut out going out to lunch to meet her plan. In the future, she may have to increase the amount she needs for lunches. Also in the miscellaneous section, she knew she had some expenses for girls’ camp and planned for them. What she didn’t plan on was the birthday cards she bought that month. That put her over in the miscellaneous section. She got a break on gas because she didn’t use the car as much. Stacie’s “fun” category was a little higher than normal because she and her friends had planned to go to a concert and she budgeted in the price of the ticket.

Stacie looked over the month and said, “It was good that I took my savings out first because I spent nearly every single penny I had left until my next paycheck. If something else had come up, I would have been stuck.”

Stacie also just opened her first checking account. She said, “I’ve heard the bad side, that you just write out checks all the time. But I keep forgetting my checkbook, and I don’t have cash very often. I know if I have cash I just spend it. My checking account actually kept me from spending sometimes.”

Now that she’s ready for college, Stacie says, “I wish I had started saving when I was in the ninth grade when I really didn’t have that much to spend my baby-tending money on. I wish I had always put half into savings.”

Since that time, I have found that my testimony of the gospel has grown at the same rate as my conviction about the truth of the Book of Mormon. But the growth of my testimony has not come without its struggles.
When I told my family about my decision to be baptized, my father turned away in disgust. I was devastated! The man whom I loved and respected more than anyone else in the world was violently opposed to my decision about the most important matter of my life!
Later, a few months after I was baptized, I had my first encounter with anti-Mormon material. My parents had been given some tape recordings made by an individual known for his criticism of the Church, and they were really worried about what I had gotten myself into. When I listened to the tapes, I too was concerned.
Even though some of this negative information seemed plausible, my deep reaction was that it couldn’t be right. I had felt the Spirit too many times in studying the Church to deny its truthfulness, so I decided to investigate the anti-Mormon claims. I turned to the scriptures in prayerful study—especially the Book of Mormon. Knowledgeable Church members helped answer my questions. Afterward, I was more convinced than ever that I had made the right decision by joining the Church.
As a result, I made my own tape recording, personalizing it for my parents, and answered the major charges in the anti-Mormon material. I played the tape for my parents, and afterward my dad looked at me through his tears and said, “That was quite a sermon, son!” Then we hugged each other. This experience became the start of a new relationship between us.

When missionaries entered the Ghana Missionary Training Center on February 27, 2020, little did they know they would be the last group of missionaries to complete their training in those well-known halls for some time. The COVID-19 pandemic stopped many parts of life, but the Lord’s work continued, and His missionaries needed to be trained. The next group of missionaries called were originally to arrive for training at the MTC in Accra on March 19, 2020. Instead, they were the first group in the history of the Ghana MTC to experience their missionary training online, and they began on March 26.
Online training was brand new for missionaries and the trainers. Content taught at the MTC is the same as is taught online, but many adjustments had to be made. Trainers had to learn the Zoom platform, and many had never used it. The transition to online took only a week in the regular missionary training schedule.
Some missionaries struggled with the changes. Elder Ejodamen, from Nigeria, was called to serve in the Sierra Leone Freetown Mission. “I was supposed to report to the MTC May 24, 2020, and that was the period that COVID-19 really hit very hard. So, we were told we would attend the online MTC. It was literally like my dream has been shattered. I have heard wonderful experiences about the MTC. So, I was not going to the MTC. It was a very hard time.”
Local church units also had to adjust. Many newly called missionaries did not have access to stable internet with the amount of data that is required to stream video meetings. The Church Facilities Management group ensured that the required internet and equipment was at stake centers so missionaries could be trained. However, it is not always easy for Church Members to get to church buildings. Several MTC trainees had to move away from home and into apartments with full-time missionaries who were closer to the stake meeting houses.
“I used to stay in the mountain, so my bishop told me I should come and stay with the missionary sisters in the missionary apartment. They used to give me transport to pay bike to come to chapel to take my MTC class,” explained Sister Combay of the Sierra Leone Freetown Mission.
Brother Larios Avana, trainer and MTC second counselor, originally from the Republic of Benin, told of helping a sister who did not know how to use a computer. “She doesn’t know how to press the mouse. Then I move the webcam from the top of the monitor to my desk for her to see my mouse, and I show her, ‘This is where you have to touch. Press here so you can do what you must do.’”
Missionaries already serving in the field were a great help. Sister Combay said, “I did not know how to use computer, but they (sister missionaries) taught me, and I started using the computer. When we had class, I was the one putting on the computer. . . . So, before our instructor came to start class, I already knew how to put computer on and to go onto the system.”
Trainer Emmanuel Dogbey of Ghana explained, “In the MTC, the lessons we teach fall into different categories. We have doctrinal lessons we teach. We have improving finding and teaching skills. We have language and others.”
Teaching adjustments were made. MTC trainer Lorenzo Osei-Tutu from Ghana explained, “We have cards that we show to missionaries, especially language missionaries, and so during the early stages, you want to bring the card to the camera to get them to see what is there. Then maybe someone had a break though that, ‘Hey, you can use this app to design this and then share your screen.’ So, we were still learning the context in where to teach.”
Sister Kainessie, serving in the Sierra Leone Freetown Mission, talked about the early start to online MTC classes. “I have to ride my bike, and also I have to get up around 6:00 because they said we should be at the chapel around 6:30 for us to prepare to get our breakfast.”
Elder Melo, from Mozambique and called to the Ghana Accra West Mission said, “I confess that my first time I was sleeping because they were just speaking English. No one was there to translate, and English was very hard. . . . During that time, they would teach me small, small, little bit, little bit, and I was just understanding some words in English.”
Learning a language is hard work. When students were sitting in a classroom with them, trainers could easily spot someone having difficulty. Avana explained that in language studies, the trainers help the new missionaries to set a specific goal related to learning a language. Perhaps the goal is a number of scriptures to memorize or a number of words to learn in a new language. Then they help the missionaries set a study plan for how they are going to achieve the goal. That same practice applies to online MTC. The trainers, “assign them to mentors, return missionaries in their stake who speak their mission language. They are able to practice with those people outside of class,” explained Avana.
Because the MTC trainers do not have the ability to see the missionaries during breaks, on the sports court, or in the cafeteria like they might in the physical MTC, they make extra efforts to create connections with missionaries attending the virtual MTC. Avana said, “We reach out to them through phone calls even before their training begins. We call them and ask them, ‘Do you have a cell phone? Do you have WhatsApp? Is there anyone nearby that we can call to reach out to you?’ All those options are set before their training begins.” Connections with new missionaries are also accomplished through holding personal interviews.
Sister Combay stated that after she went into the field full-time, “I was missing the MTC because our instructors were so lovely. They were nice to us, and they also teach us the things we should know. Even sometimes they call us for interview, one by one. We talk to them, share our problem with them.”
Just like in the physical MTC, the missionaries in the virtual MTC are organized into districts, a group of missionary companionships that attend all the training together. Within these virtual groups, the connections that are made become close, just like those in the physical MTC.
Ejodamen said, “The online experience with MTC, one thing that stands out for me is the experience I had to meet different people. It was something really very wonderful because we put our minds together, we studied together, we discussed together. But though it was not in physical contact, it was really wonderful. They were really nice people that I saw on the screen. We talked. We laughed, and they were cool MTC instructors that really helped us. My attending online MTC and someone attending real MTC is the same thing.”
Dogbey explained the MTC pattern of teaching a lesson and having a practice activity. “At the end of the lesson, we ask the missionary to set a goal and then make a plan. Identify what time of the day is he going to accomplish that goal.”
Osei-Tutu added that trainers have worked to adapt the lessons to the missionary’s life circumstances. “We ask them to set goals to live by the things they are learning. That experience is playing a huge role to help the missionaries live the doctrine, to understand it more, to change their lives.”
Ghana MTC president, Paul W. Craig, explained that he and his wife have the “responsibility for the ecclesiastical, spiritual, motivational, worthiness, physical and emotional welfare of our missionaries.” From the beginning of online MTC, the Missionary and MTC departments set up that questions, concerns, health, or spiritual issues are to be addressed through stake presidents. The mission president and his wife continue to encourage the spiritual growth of missionaries through weekly devotionals over Zoom.
“Gratefully, the local leaders and stake presidents, they really responded to the Missionary Department’s call to be part of this work,” said Osei Tutu. “Having them at the right hand and seeing them really minister to the missionaries helped in this transition.”
Sister Kpullum, serving in Sierra Leone Freetown Mission, talked about the change in her perspective of online MTC. When she began, she was thinking, “Why us? So, we do have that doubt, but, actually, the online MTC was really good. They do not lack anything. I think our instructors did very well for us. Yeah. They always make sure we have the best learning, that even if we go out there, we will not see things strange. They really taught us to become a good missionary.”
Kainessie said, “The MTC grew me in a way that I learned how to teach and also how to approach my interested members. Even when I went into the field, I did not find it difficult.”
The online MTC has had some unexpected benefits. “For missionaries who come from backgrounds that their parents are not members, they now do not get to just see their children (or siblings) leave and come after two years or 18 months completely changed, but they get to see a portion of that change happen. And I think it is a blessing for missionaries coming from such backgrounds,” said Osei-Tutu.
Dogbey added, “When they leave the MTC online training and get to the field, they are able to also teach interested people and members through online means, through Zoom, WhatsApp, and Messenger. They can easily schedule an appointment with an interested person and teach that person seated in the comfort of their apartment.”
“I feel that is what President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) prophesied about in 1974 that in our time there will be a better trained missionary force.1 We have seen this,” concluded Dogbey.

Fortunately, Mary was a self-taught nurse and diagnostician. She was at his side, rarely leaving her husband. By then I was blessed to serve as the Hales’s bishop. On many Sunday afternoons, when the meetings and interviews were through, I would stop at the Hales home. More than once, he recounted an experience of perceiving the veil between this life and the next.

It was a place of pure peace, the opposite of the wrenching pain of the heart attack and the electric shocks used to bring him back to mortality. President Henry B. Eyring made this statement at Elder Hales’s funeral:

I have no way to know if he was deceased for a brief time that afternoon or if it was a dream. But this I do know: he felt in a moment of intense testing that he was supposed to do something difficult, and he was loyal to the command he had received. For me, it was another moment, just one of the many I had with him, when—whatever the cost and however difficult the command—he was loyal to his family and friends, to the Lord, and to the Lord’s prophet.[9]

Life doesn’t get easier as it goes. That is true as we battle age. But this is also a unique social age for all of us. We are experiencing unusual temporal challenges. In addition to the COVID pandemic with its offshoots, we face public strife and individual rebellion. Yet unfailing honor and fealty to Heavenly Father and our Savior Jesus Christ, as well as the promptings of the Holy Ghost, assures us eternal life with Them and our family members in the celestial kingdom.

Though life tends to get more challenging, especially in the end stages, the spiritual refining process accelerates. I was blessed to sit, usually speaking little, at the bedside of my heroic friend Robert D. Hales. Mary, a paragon of service and honor, usually left me alone with him.

In the silence, important thoughts came. Some were shared and others saved away. I cherish a particular statement of this long-suffering, spiritually-polished friend. In a lengthy period of silence, he observed, “It’s quite something for a man of my experiences to learn to tell time by the position of the shadows on the walls.”

Let me illustrate this with an incident that happened some years ago. As a young man I was called on a mission to Tonga. Through a series of unusual circumstances, such as ship strikes, and so forth, it took three months to get to Tonga from Salt Lake. As I was the only one assigned to Tonga at that time, much of the journey was made alone.

Finally, in Samoa, the mission president put me on a boat to Fiji and assured me that he would telegraph ahead, and when I arrived in Suva two elders would meet me and put me on a boat to Tonga.

Even though I had been in transit for two and a half months at that time, that several-day voyage to Suva seemed extra-filled with trepidation. How I looked forward to seeing those two missionaries!

The boat arrived in Suva early in the morning. I looked and looked, but could see no elders. An hour went by, then two, then three—still no elders. The captain kept telling me to get off the boat as they were leaving soon. I kept telling him that I would be met soon by two young men, but they didn’t come.

Finally, noon arrived and the captain was ready to leave. “Get off,” he said, “you only have a ticket to Suva. I’m leaving, and you’re staying here.”

With great fear I started down the gangplank only to be met by the immigration officials. “Let us see your visa, your onward ticket, and the money to keep you while here,” they demanded.

I had no visa. I had no onward ticket. I had not sufficient money. But I assured them that two young men would be there right away with whatever was needed. How I prayed! But they didn’t come.

“Back on the ship then,” they insisted.

“Not on my ship,” bellowed the captain.

I can remember standing in the middle of the gangplank, looking up at the folded arms and glaring eyes of the stern captain, and then looking down at the equally determined faces and set jaws of the immigration men.

I looked at the ocean under the gangplank. I should have wondered how long I could tread water, but I was too scared to think of anything right then.

In the end, the captain proved to be the toughest; and amidst cursing and yelling and banging of bags, the gangplank went up, the ship departed, and I found myself in the not-too-friendly hands of the immigration officials.

There was a long discussion among them, most of it in a foreign tongue. Finally, one of the younger men, who seemed more friendly, came over and explained that for now I should move with my things into the “customs shed.” That’s where things go that aren’t really allowed into the country until duty or tax is paid on them. He assured me that he, too, felt that the two young men I referred to would soon be along and everything would be fine.

The afternoon wore on. I tried several times to contact the missionaries every way I knew how, but to no avail. I know missionaries are supposed to be brave, but right then I was scared and tired and hungry.

The sun was getting low, and it seemed the lower it got in the sky the lower my spirits became. I knew I wasn’t really in danger or in prison, but to one used to lots of freedom it seemed like it.

The pungent odor of curry and copra and drying fish and the myriad other sights and sounds and smells of an oily tropical wharf seemed so foreign to the cool, fresh smells of my Idaho home. I knew I was homesick. I wanted to cry, but I knew that wouldn’t do any good.

Finally, the whirring of winches, the groaning of blocks and cables, the banging of cargo, and the sputtering of machines ceased. The dock workers began to leave, then the immigration people, until just a few watchmen and supervisors were left. It was silent now. I don’t know when I have felt more alone.

I tried to lie down on the dirty, uneven cement floor. I prayed to know what to do. There seemed to be no answer. I watched the last rays of sunlight as they broke through the clouds and blazed across the ocean and through the holes of the metal customs shed.

“How long will the light last?” I thought. Then I wondered, “What will happen when those last rays disappear and fold into the night?” (Have you ever wanted to just sort of close your eyes and disappear—or have things around you change?) “But, no, I must have hope. Things must turn out all right.”

Once more, I closed my eyes in prayer, when suddenly I felt almost transported. I didn’t see anything or hear anything, in a physical sense; but, in a more real way, I saw a family in far-off Idaho kneeling together in prayer; and I heard my mother, acting as mouth, say as clearly as anything can be heard, “And bless John on his mission.”

As that faithful family called down the powers of heaven to bless their missionary son in a way they could not physically do, I testify that the powers of heaven did come down, and they lifted me up and, in a spiritual way, allowed me, for a brief moment, to once again join that family circle in prayer. I was one with them. I was literally swallowed up in the love and concern of a faithful family and sensed for a moment what being taken into Abraham’s bosom may be like. (See Luke 16:22.) I was given to understand also that there are other circles of love and concern unbounded by time or space to which we all belong and from which we can draw strength. God does not leave us entirely alone—ever!

Tears of joy flowed freely as I had restored to me the warmth of security, the light of love, and the strength of hope. And when I again felt the hard, uneven cement beneath me, there was no fear, no sorrow, no trepidation, only deep gratitude and certain assurance.

To conclude the incident, within a half hour I saw the young immigration man who had befriended me coming towards the shed with two young elders behind him. It seemed that on his way home he just happened to run into two young Americans with white shirts and ties and told them about one just like them down at the wharf. Apparently the telegram never arrived, but they followed him down to the shed, and soon all was straightened out, and within a few weeks I landed in Tonga and was ready to begin my mission.

In the 1960s, during the Vietnam War, Church member Jay Hess, an airman, was shot down over North Vietnam. For two years his family had no idea whether he was dead or alive. His captors in Hanoi eventually allowed him to write home but limited his message to less than 25 words. What would you and I say to our families if we were in the same situation—not having seen them for over two years and not knowing if we would ever see them again? Wanting to provide something his family could recognize as having come from him and also wanting to give them valuable counsel, Brother Hess wrote—and I quote: “These things are important: temple marriage, mission, college. Press on, set goals, write history, take pictures twice a year.”

It was the first Christmas I got to work. My friend and I cleaned gardens, scrubbed walls, and did all sorts of jobs all month. We ended up with $10 each, one week before Christmas.
Everybody had already bought their gifts, and I was debating whether to give my $10 away or not. But when Christmas day came, I gave the money I had worked so hard for to my mom. She cried because she knew what I’d been through to get it.
I felt so happy! I felt I had really done something good. I’ll never forget that Christmas, ever!
—Vao Paongo, 13Nuku‘alofa, Tonga

President Kimball recites the following story about a goal he made when he was still a young boy: “When I heard a Church leader from Salt Lake City tell us at conference that we should read the scriptures, and I recognized that I had never read the Bible, that very night at the conclusion of that very sermon I walked to my home a block away and climbed up in my little attic room in the top of the house and lighted a little 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.
“I found that this Bible that I was reading had in it 66 books, and then I was nearly dissuaded when I found that it had in it 1,189 chapters, and then I also found that it had 1,519 pages. It was formidable, but I knew if others did it that I could do it.
“I found that there were certain parts that were hard for a 14-year-old boy to understand. There were some pages that were not especially interesting to me, but when I had read the 66 books and 1,189 chapters and 1,519 pages, I had a glowing satisfaction that I had made a goal and that I had achieved it.
And he continues: “I am not telling you this story to boast; I am merely using this as an example to say that if I could do it by coal-oil light, you can do it by electric light. I have always been glad I read the Bible from cover to cover.” (Ensign, May 1974, p. 88.)

William leaned his rake against the side of the house and plopped down on the grass. Raking the leaves was hard work, but he and his sisters, Chloé and Amelia, were finally done. Way up above the Alps mountains he could see a plane fly by. He wondered where it was going.
William loved his little town near the French-Swiss border. People from all over the world visited here. He thought about the places he wanted to go, the people he could meet, and the adventures he might have someday.
He was startled out of his daydream by whistling and the crunch, crunch, crunch of footsteps in the yard next door.
“Pat must be getting ready to rake his leaves,” William thought. “I’m sure glad we’re done with ours.”
“But if raking leaves was hard for three people, it must be really hard for one!” William thought. Pat’s wife, Pam, had just had surgery, so Pat would have to rake his leaves by himself.
Mum always said, “When we’re helping, we’re happy!” and William thought that probably meant helping Pat, even though they were already tired from raking their own leaves.
William looked over at Chloé and Amelia, who were building tiny twig houses in the grass. “Should we go help Pat?” he asked. “We can help him finish pretty fast.”
Chloé and Amelia agreed and followed William.
“Want some help?” Amelia asked as they walked around the bushes into Pat’s yard.
“I sure would! But you kids have been raking all afternoon. I bet you’re tired.”
“That’s OK,” William said. “We want to help. After all, when we’re helping, we’re happy!”
As they worked, Pat told the kids fun stories from his life. Pat was from India, but he had lived all over Asia and Africa.
After the leaves were bagged, William looked over and noticed the apples scattered around the two tall apple trees in Pat’s yard. Their work wasn’t quite done yet. William stooped down and started gathering apples. He sorted the rotten ones from the good ones as he went along. Chloé and Amelia ran over to put the apples in piles.
Pat rolled his old green wheelbarrow out from the shed. “Let’s put the rotten ones in here. Then you can take the good ones home with you.”
“That’s OK, Pat. We don’t need to take your apples,” William said.
“I want to give them to you,” Pat said. “After all, when I’m giving, I’m happy!”
That night during dinner, the children told Mum and Dad how much fun they’d had helping Pat and hearing his stories.
Suddenly William had an idea. “I know what we can do with the apples he gave us!” He jumped up and grabbed a copy of the Liahona from the bookshelf. “I think Pat and Pam would really like this,” William said, turning to a recipe for apple cake. “And like Pat said today, when we’re giving, we’re happy!”
“Let’s make a cake for our other neighbors too!” Chloé said.
William grinned. He thought about all the people he could meet and the exciting stories he could hear. And all that through just a bit of kindness. And a bit of cake.

The spicy aroma of teriyaki chicken greeted the members of the Healdsburg Ward, Santa Rosa California Stake, and their nonmember friends as they entered the cultural hall. The promise of a delicious dinner was fulfilled, followed by a song-and-dance program presented by 26 members of the ward who called themselves the “Healdsburg Kids.” It was a missionary dinner where any family who brought a nonmember was invited to eat for free.
“Everyone was pleased with the results of their efforts and were relieved when it was over!” said Elder Brent Mortensen, who was a member of the “Healdsburg Kids” and is currently serving a mission in Montana. “We didn’t realize at the time that it was really the beginning of an even greater missionary activity.”
Shortly after the dinner, Sister Kaye Davis suggested that the ward present its dinner show at the recently completed Historical Society Museum in Healdsburg. The members of the Church would decorate, provide the food and entertainment, cook, serve, and clean up, with all proceeds going to the museum.
The Society, after being assured that all they would have to do would be sell tickets, accepted the offer. The “Healdsburg Kids,” who had begun performing together five years before with seven members, eagerly accepted the challenge of three rehearsals a week for the next month. A special fast was held, and concluded with prayer, followed by a cast dinner and another rehearsal. The night of the dinner arrived, and the cast was excited! “We wanted to show the non-Mormons what the Church does for the youth, that it is a family-centered Church,” said Elder Mortensen.
Highlights of the evening included “An American Trilogy” (a medley comprised of old-time favorites) and a medley called “America’s Music Through the Years.” The program concluded with “Love at Home.” “We could feel the Spirit of the Lord,” said Elder Mortensen.
“It was a big job to prepare, both physically and spiritually, but it was fun and well-worth the effort! The seventies have been able to teach several people who first became interested in the Church after seeing the program. We discovered that a small ward can have success in missionary work. At one time all the wards in the Church were small. The Church is true in all parts of the world, and it’s our responsibility to make sure our neighbors know about it!” he added.

I have to tell you about something that happened to me just last Tuesday afternoon when I was writing down this very idea of needing to see the good in the world. I stood up for a moment to take a break from my writing, and I looked out my fifth-floor window in the Tanner Building, which has a perfect view of the walkway that rises from Helaman Halls up past the Tanner Building. As I looked down, I saw a young man in a wheelchair who was wheeling himself up that long, steep walkway. And just as I started thinking about how much effort that must take, I saw another young man just slightly ahead on the walkway turn around and notice this young man in the wheelchair. I don’t know if they knew each other or if they were complete strangers, but in that moment the one young man walked quickly around and behind the wheelchair, and he pushed the other young man up the rest of that long walkway. In fact, he practically ran as he pushed him up that hill.
This simple moment in time—1:30 p.m. on a Tuesday afternoon—witnessed to me again how much light and goodness are everywhere around us if we will just look.

A few weeks after my baptism at age 30, the president of our branch in Piura, Peru, asked to interview me to determine my worthiness to receive the Aaronic Priesthood. After I sat down, President Jorge García offered a prayer. Then he asked me, “Do you believe in God?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“Do you keep the Word of Wisdom?”
“Yes,” I replied again.
“Are you chaste?”
“Yes.”
To this point I had been confident in my answers, but then came the next question: “Do you pay a full tithe?”
I was speechless. In my mind I could see the illustration the missionaries had shown me when they taught the discussion on tithing. They had said that one-tenth of our income belongs to the Lord. Then I heard another question: “Didn’t the missionaries teach you the law of tithing?”
“They did teach me,” I replied, “but I just don’t pay it.”
“I’m sorry,” President García said after a moment, “but you will have to pay your tithing in order to receive the priesthood. Start now, and pay the Lord your tithing.”
I left his office in a thoughtful mood. After reviewing the law of tithing later that day, I entered my room, knelt on the floor, and began to pray. “Heavenly Father, if I have robbed Thee by not paying my tithing, I ask Thee to forgive me. I promise I will never again fail to pay it.”
The following Sunday at church I asked the branch president for another interview. I told him I felt that the Lord had forgiven me and that He had accepted my commitment to pay tithing, which I began doing that very Sunday. “Am I worthy to receive the priesthood?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied. “Today I will confer the Aaronic Priesthood upon you and ordain you to the office of deacon.”
Today I have a powerful testimony of tithing and the abundant blessings that come from paying it. In countless interviews since that Sunday more than 35 years ago, whenever my leaders have asked me if I pay a full tithe, I have been happy to answer yes!

I first came to the United States from American Samoa when I was 10 because my father wanted his children to have more educational opportunities than those he had. I lived in Seattle, Washington, with an aunt and uncle. At 14, I moved to California. My grandmother, with whom I lived, was a temple worker in the Los Angeles California Temple, but I was not a member of the Church.
During my junior year of high school, I became involved with student government and noticed several people on the student council who stood out from all the rest. They were respectful of others, clean in speech and dress, and had a dignity and light about them that caught my attention. We became friends, and they invited me to go to Mutual with them. I liked the fun, wholesome activities and the Spirit that I felt there, so I began attending regularly. Just a few weeks later my friends introduced me to the missionaries and to the Book of Mormon. I was baptized soon afterward and began a lifelong study of the Book of Mormon.

I was in Richfield and saw a good friend that I had met in San Antonio on my mission. His name is John. His eyesight is failing; he is almost blind. His family needed a car. He had bought an old van for, I believe, $200, and thought he could make it work. It didn’t run. He bought parts—as many as he could afford. About three months later it still wasn’t running. He really needed the money back out of the car, so he let it be known that he was selling it.

One of the good men there went to him and said, “John, I understand you’re selling your car.”

John answered, “Yes, I am.”

The man asked, “How much do you want for it?”

John said, “Well, I’d really like to get what I have into it. I have $200 into it.”

The man said, “Two hundred dollars, huh? Would you take $300 for it?”

Tears started glistening in John’s eyes, and he said, “That would be wonderful.”

Then the man said, “Well, then how about $400?”

Then the tears came a little faster.

“Okay. This is my final offer. I’ll give you $500 for it.”

God bless those kind of people! I’m so grateful for that kind of faith in the Church.