Gospel Story Finder

When the first COVID-19 lockdown was implemented in May, Paisley Stake director of communication, Douglas Yates foresaw that a Scottish government requirement to wear face masks may be imposed on most people as they went about their daily lives.
Using good local contacts, he persuaded six local community organisations, including The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, to donate to procurement funds to allow him to source and purchase fabric, elastic, tape and thread.
Cotton fabric, elastic and thread was sourced from a Glasgow supplier and purchased as they were needed over a five-month period. Volunteer sewers were recruited locally, including some Latter-day Saints, and production of various coloured face masks began. The goal was to produce a sufficient number of good quality, 100 percent cotton face masks which were washable and reusable, at a very modest cost, making them affordable to all families. The price point was set at £1 for a pack of two face masks.
The face masks went on sale at the end of May and by the end of September, when demand waned, more than 5,000 face masks had been bought by local families. Money raised through the sale of the masks was donated back to three charitable organisations which have outreach programmes to help others.
An evaluation of the initiative by the volunteer arm of East Renfrewshire Council judged the face masks initiative to have made a valuable contribution to the community and to have been a great success.

I love this gospel and I love street art, so I decided to combine the two. I packed my scriptures, a sketchbook, charcoal pencils, permanent markers, and cans of spray paint in my backpack. My companions laughed and asked, “What are you doing with spray paint?” I explained, “I may not speak the language yet, but I can show others my testimony.”
For the remainder of my mission, I used street art—on paper, not on buildings—and the Spirit to teach others about Christ. And as crazy as it sounds, it worked. Many people didn’t want to hear my message, so I sketched it. Doors and eyes opened when I told them that I did graffiti. They didn’t believe me. They timed me for three minutes, and I sketched the word faith while teaching them about it. Among them were many who felt judged and unloved. I could testify that with faith in Christ we can feel of His love and forgiveness, and He can help us change for the better. He did for me.

When I was growing up, we lived in a tan-colored house, lost among the evergreen trees so abundant in the Pacific Northwest. Isolated about halfway up the hill, it was impossible to drive to. We could park at the bottom and climb the stairs, or drive around and park on the concrete platform above the house and climb down. We generally chose to climb down.
When we first moved in, there was only a pathway dug into the side of the hill between the house and the platform. My grandpa carved steps in the dirt to make getting up and down easier.
From the platform to the first step on the path was nearly level, perfect for my two sisters and me to run and slide. We could usually stop just before we reached the top step.
One day I didn’t get stopped in time and found myself going over the edge. Instead of falling, I kept my feet under me and my momentum made me hit about every third step. I felt like I was flying. A fall meant tumbling into the side of the house, or worse, going into the treacherous blackberry bushes that lined the path.
The human mind is truly a wonder, and mine was racing faster than my feet. I began to yell for my mother while in a split second I planned what I could do about my situation. I thought that if only Mother would come and open the door, I could make a safe landing on the couch. Hearing my yells, Mom appeared at the bottom of the path with Dad and Grandpa.
“Open the door and get out of my way,” I yelled with what breath I had left. They just stood there with puzzled expressions while I came faster and faster, arms and legs pumping to keep my balance.
Just then Dad reached out and caught me. As easy as that. I hadn’t thought of that solution. The danger over, my fear gave way to tears.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Mom asked.
“Oh, Mom, I was sliding and couldn’t stop. Why didn’t you get out of my way and open the door?” I stamped over to the door to show them what I’d planned to do. In shock, I saw that Mom had moved the couch. There would have been nothing to stop my headlong flight except a hard wall. My own hastily made plans would have failed me.
I’m grown up now and still my own plans are often faulty. Now I call out to my Heavenly Father in prayer. How often I’ve been glad to have a Father to catch me and keep me from harm.

Let me give you one example from my own life.

Since I was very young I wanted to be a physician. My uncle Ted was a physician, and he was my role model during my formative years. He treated me when I was sick as a child, and, as I got older, he was both a mentor and a friend. Not only was he a successful doctor, he also served in the Church, serving twice as a bishop. I admired everything about him, and I felt that I would like to pattern my life after his.

As I got older, I kept this goal and enrolled in college courses that would lead to medical school. After my freshman year I left for my mission to Japan and returned in the fall of 1972. Three months later Mary and I were married in the Salt Lake Temple, and a year later our first child was born. As we prayed, both Mary and I felt the desire and prompting to have children, and our second child, little Rebecca, was born in October 1975. Over the years we were blessed with six other children.

During the months preceding the birth of Becky, I had a constant feeling that the Lord was leading us in a direction that did not include medical school. I was confused and a little stubborn in holding on to my childhood desire of becoming a doctor. The J. Reuben Clark Law School had recently opened at BYU, and I felt a continuing impression—and growing desire—that this was where I belonged and where the Lord would have me continue my education.

I had a wonderful stake president who had been a prominent lawyer in Salt Lake and had given it all up to accept the position of secretary to the First Presidency. I went to visit him and told him of both my confusion and the feelings that I was having.

Rather than telling me the answer I was looking for, he said something that I have never forgotten. He said, “David, you know section 9 of the Doctrine and Covenants as well as I do. Go home to your wife, Mary. Study it out in your minds together and come to a decision that you can take to the Lord. Then pray and ask God if what you have decided is right. He will answer you.”

He then said, “This revelation does not need to take months and months of agonizing. Rather, it takes the desire to find out what the Lord would have you do and the determination to do it.”

Two weeks later I was back with my stake president. I told him that both Mary and I were settled and that we would be applying to law school instead of medical school. Once we knew what the Lord would have us do, we were absolutely determined to follow that course. After I told him of our experience, he told me that he had received that same witness when we had met two weeks earlier, but it was important for me to receive the witness rather than for him to just tell me what I should do.

For me it was the right answer. That same path may not be right for others. The way to know is through personal revelation. If you care enough to go through the process of seeking God’s will, God will care enough to answer.

The panel discussions had everyone’s interest. All the participants were given slips of paper. They could write any question they wanted discussed without a name attached. They put all the questions into a hat and then the stake president, several bishops, and Young Women leaders would attempt to answer the questions as they were drawn at random. The panel did reserve the right to refer the question to someone more knowledgeable or simply not answer.
“All the questions were interesting,” said Jaran Rosaker, Oslo Third Ward. His friend, Tarjei Gylseth agreed, “And they gave good answers as well.”

My sisters and I were talking about how well we did feeding our neighbor’s dogs. My mom said she would pay us for doing such a great job. Then my mom reminded us about tithing. I made a big fuss about that. Then my mom said I could either keep all my money or give tithing to the bishop. I knew that paying tithing was the right thing to do. I was happy I made the right choice, and I hope Heavenly Father was too.

After college, I taught at Brigham Young University for a few years. Then I started my own business. In my business, it was important for me to know what was going on in the world, so I got in the habit of reading several newspapers. And I always started my day by reading them. Of course, I read my scriptures during the day too.
Recently, however, I began to read the scriptures before I read anything else. What joy and satisfaction has come from reading the scriptures first! It not only begins the day right, but throughout the day I’ll find myself using a scripture or scripture story I read that morning, especially as I talk about the gospel.

But it was the inspiring words of Elder Boyd K. Packer of the Council of the Twelve, given at the Relief Society conference in Salt Lake City in the fall of 1971, that gave me the courage to tell my husband how I felt about him joining the Church. Among other things, Elder Packer said:
“I have often said that a man cannot resist membership if his wife really wants him to have it, and if she knows how to give him encouragement.
“If you have faith enough and desire enough, you will yet have at the head of your home a father and husband who is active and faithful in the Church.
“Some who have long since lost hope have said bitterly, ‘It would take a miracle!’ And so I say, Why not? Why not a miracle! Is there a purpose more worthy than that?
“And I repeat, if your husband doesn’t feel at home going to church, then do everything you can to make him feel at church while he’s at home.
“Sisters, make the gospel seem worthwhile to them, and then let them know that that is your purpose.
“He needs to know, he needs to be told that you care about the gospel and what it means to you.” (“Begin Where You Are—at Home,” International Magazines, July 1972.)
Now an apostle of the Lord had told me to tell my husband what it would mean to me for him to accept the gospel. What a task! In our home the gospel was never mentioned unless my husband started talking about it first. I wept, trying to figure out how I’d ever be able to do it. Then I remembered the scripture, “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise” (D&C 82:10). I decided once again to fast and pray and trust in the Lord. It took me until January 1972 to find the courage to speak.
Then, one night, I asked Norman if he felt he could ever accept the gospel. He gave me a firm, but not unkind, no. Taking a deep breath, I told him how much the boys and I loved him, what a fine father and husband he had been; but, I said, he was unable to give me the thing I wanted most of all. Well, I had done it! An apostle of the Lord had told me to do it. Within six months of that night, after thirty-seven years of marriage, Norman was baptized. It was indeed a miracle.
Looking back on the months following that January conversation, I can see that many things happened to bring this about. Some friends from Salt Lake City gave Norman the book, No More Strangers by Hartman and Connie Rector, and challenged Norman to take his place at the head of his family and bear the priesthood. After our younger boy’s missionary farewell, where Norman spoke briefly, Norman’s Sunday School teacher challenged him to be baptized. Steven wrote letters of encouragement and asked his dad to read the Book of Mormon. Douglas also bore testimony to him. Though Steven had left a nonmember father behind in 1972, he returned in 1974 to find his father sitting on the stand as second counselor in the bishopric.

Jeff Daniels pushed open the car door. The clean, cool night air poured in and drenched him with freshness. He paused for a moment and then stepped out onto the curb in front of his home and breathed deeply. Even outside the car, the faint odor of alcohol lingered.
Nathan Brinser, who was driving, leaned over and looked out the open door at him. “Hey, Daniels, why don’t you loosen up a bit?” he invited good-naturedly.
A troubling emptiness rested in the pit of Jeff’s stomach, but he managed to shrug indifferently and grin.
Jeff found himself grinning more and more these days. Not out of any sense of amusement. It was quite simply his best answer to so many things now. If his beliefs or good behavior were challenged or ridiculed, he could always answer with an uncommitted shrug and grin.
“One lousy beer isn’t going to kill you,” Nathan laughed.
Jeff stared down at his friend. Two years earlier neither one of them would have suspected this kind of conversation would be going on between them. He and Nathan had been friends since kindergarten, and over the years they had been inseparable. But now Jeff felt like a stranger around Nathan.
“You going to KC’s party tomorrow night?” Nathan asked. “His folks are going to be out of town all weekend. I think half the senior class will be there.”
Jeff contemplated an excuse.
“And don’t tell me you’ve got to study,” Nathan cut into his thoughts.
Jeff grinned again. He didn’t like to go to the parties. He had been to a few but he’d never been comfortable, always having to explain why he didn’t join in. He was tired of making up excuses or dumping the blame on his parents. He took a deep breath. “Yeah, I guess I’ll go,” he said, unable to think of anything else.
“Don’t sound so excited,” Nathan grumbled. “If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to.” Nathan was quiet for a moment and then spoke without facing Jeff. “You know, some of the guys were talking. I can’t blame them. Whenever you go with us, you’re all depressed. Everyone else is having a good time and you’re just sitting there looking down.”
“Hey, I said I want to go,” said Jeff, falling back on his grin.
A few minutes later Nathan’s taillights faded into the blackness, and Jeff started up the walk to the door. After having spent most of the evening in the car, sitting through a drive-in movie, it felt good to be out in the open where everything he breathed was clean and fresh.
He thought about the two six-packs KC had managed to get. Jeff had declined as the cans were passed out, and the others didn’t seem to mind. It meant more for them. But before the night was over Jeff could sense the annoyance his abstinence caused.
KC had been especially irritated. “Come on, you can still go to church on Sunday,” he had said sarcastically.
What would it hurt just once? Jeff thought as he walked up to the house. Some of those other guys are members of the Church and they’re all “active.” Why do I have to be the one that stands out?
“Oh, you’re home,” his dad called to him, as he stepped through the front door. “I thought I heard a car pull up. I just got home myself. Thought I’d fix a sandwich. You hungry?”
“Not really.”
“Want some juice?”
“Juice sounds good.” Jeff sighed heavily as he walked into the kitchen, pulled out a chair and dropped into it. His father poured him a glass of orange juice and pushed it across the table. Jeff took a couple of sips. “Where’ve you been?” he asked his dad. “It’s past 12.”
Brother Daniels finished chewing a bite of his bologna sandwich and shook his head. “Bishop Taylor asked if I’d go with him to visit a family in the ward.”
“At this time of night?”
“They’ve been having some family problems.” Brother Daniels shook his head and stared at the table. “I kept thinking while we were there, If they just followed the counsel of the Church, they could avoid so much of this.”
“The Church doesn’t fix everything.”
“Oh, members of the Church have problems too. Everybody does. But if you’re doing what the Lord has asked you to do you can work through those problems. There’s never a problem that’s insurmountable,” Brother Daniels said resolutely.
Jeff looked over at his father and wished that he could really believe that, but right then following the teachings of the Church didn’t seem to be the solution to his problem. That seemed to be the cause.
“How was the movie?” his dad asked.
“Oh, it was all right, I guess.”
Brother Daniels stared at his son for a moment. “What’s the matter?”
Jeff shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
Jeff nodded again, stood, finished his juice in a few gulps and turned to go. “What’s wrong, Jeff?” his father asked again.
“What makes you think anything’s wrong?”
Brother Daniels set down his half-eaten sandwich and brushed some bread crumbs off the table. “I was just wondering,” he said. “You’ve seemed a little troubled lately.” He looked at Jeff, and reached over to push the chair out again so Jeff could sit down. “Sometimes talking helps clear your mind.”
Jeff wasn’t sure he wanted to talk, or of what he would say even if he decided to speak. While he debated, however, he dropped back into his chair. It was hard to begin. He wasn’t sure his father could understand. He wasn’t sure he understood.
“What would you do if I’d been drinking tonight?” he burst out suddenly. “I wasn’t,” he added quickly, “but what would you do if I had been?”
Brother Daniels looked across the table at him, studying his face. “I’d try to help you,” he said slowly. “Can I help you?”
Jeff shook his head. “Probably not. You know, you’re always hearing these stories about some Mormon guy going to a party or something and everybody and his dog is drinking. Everybody except this one Mormon guy. Somebody offers him a drink and he turns them down and later everybody rushes up to him and tells him how much they admire him for standing by his beliefs.”
Jeff looked across the table at his dad. “Do you know how many parties I’ve been to where everybody’s been drinking? Enough of them,” he said bitterly. “And do you know how many times somebody’s come up to me and said, ‘Gee, Daniels, it’s sure great that you don’t let down your standards?’ Not once. They look at me like I’m some kind of freak. Those stories about Mormon guys being so good and having everyone look up to them—they just don’t happen.
“I’m just tired of feeling like a freak,” Jeff grumbled. “I thought if you did everything you were supposed to, you were happy. I don’t feel happy—just weird!”
“Maybe you need some different friends.”
Jeff shook his head. “Nathan Brinser goes to church every Sunday. His dad’s in the elders quorum presidency. KC Wells is active. His dad’s on the high council. Every Sunday they get up and bless the sacrament like nothing ever happened.”
“They’re not fooling everyone, Jeff.”
“But they’ll get away with it. When they turn 19, they’ll march into the bishop’s office, confess everything, and end up going on missions. They’ll repent and everything will be fine. That’s part of the whole plan. It makes me wonder, Well, what’s wrong with that? Why can’t I go out and have fun? I can repent as well as they can.”
Brother Daniels thought for a long time. “There are two things that come to mind. First, once you get involved in anything like that, it’s always hard to turn away from it. Maybe you’d get caught in the snare and never get out of it.”
“They’ll get out of it,” Jeff insisted.
“The second thing. Because of Christ’s love and mercy, he suffered for each of us and made it possible for us to be clean, but his plan was never intended to be used as a plaything.
“Repentance wasn’t provided so that we could go out and sin carelessly, willfully, always with the idea in mind that sometime we’d resort to repentance to clean up our lives. Christ didn’t go through the terrible agony of Gethsemane just so we could all go out and eat, drink and be merry, and then scrub ourselves with repentance like it was a common bar of soap.
“Those who think they can use repentance in that way are making a mockery of the whole atonement.”
“But, Dad, I’m tired of being the different one. Where are the good kids my own age?”
Brother Daniels pondered a moment. “You remember the prophet Elijah, the one who had the contest with the priests of Baal?” Jeff nodded. “Well, Elijah lived in Israel, but at that time wickedness was rampant. The chosen people had turned to idolatry, adultery, and every other degrading act.
“Elijah felt a lot like you. He went to the Lord and said, ‘I’m the only one in Israel that’s remained true.’” Brother Daniels smiled and shook his head. “He was wrong. The Lord told him that there were 7,000 who had not bowed down to Baal, who had kept themselves clean. You’re not alone, Jeff. There are those who feel just as you do. I don’t know if there are 7,000 or 70,000 or whatever, but they’re there.”
All during the next day Jeff debated whether he should go to the party at KC Wells’s place that night. In the midst of his internal debate, he felt prompted to pray. At first he ignored the feeling, but it persisted until he went to his room and dropped to his knees. He began to whip through a prayer, but it was empty. The words were going nowhere. He paused and remained on his knees just thinking.
Suddenly he was bombarded with feelings, fears, and frustrations. He struggled to sort through them, and as he struggled, the prayer came as a humble plea for help. For one of the first times in his life he was talking to the Lord, not just mouthing words or repeating worn-out phrases, but telling the Lord how he felt.
Tears burned under his lashes, and he pleaded for something to help him through. In the middle of his prayer an all-encompassing warmth filled him. For one of the first times in his life he felt the purest kind of love he had ever experienced and knew that someone really cared about what Jeff Daniels was doing, what he was going through.
“Will you be out late?” Brother Daniels asked Jeff as he was leaving for KC’s party.
“I doubt it. I’d decided not to go, but I got to thinking that maybe I should. I don’t know why. I’ll be all right, though,” said Jeff as he headed out the door.
KC’s house was full when Jeff pulled up. Cars lined the street, music was playing, and kids were spilling out into the backyard. It did look like half the senior class was there.
He wandered around to the backyard and found a lawn chair from which he could watch the others come and go, laugh and talk. Everyone was munching chips and sipping drinks. No one seemed to notice him, and he had the impression that his presence made no difference to those who were there. There was a time when that would have bothered him, but right then he didn’t care.
“Hey, I was wondering if you’d show,” Nathan said dropping into the lawn chair next to him. “I should have known that you’d come and hide yourself. You been here long?”
“Ten minutes or so.”
“It’s a little tame,” Nathan said, nodding toward the activity about them. “KC had to be careful. His folks know he’s having a party, and a couple of the neighbors are supposed to wander through to make sure everything’s okay. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t arrange a few surprises.”
The two continued talking until Nathan nudged Jeff with his elbow, “Hey, is that Kristi Case?” He nodded across the yard at a girl in a yellow sweater. Jeff recognized the girl from his English class. She had always been quiet, a little on the shy side. She was not grabbingly beautiful, but she was pretty.
Jeff watched her for a moment. She laughed and talked with the others but seemed nervous. She wasn’t the kind of girl he thought would show up at something like this. He felt sorry for her.
A few minutes later Jeff watched as KC approached Kristi. They talked and as they did Kristi happened to catch Jeff staring at her. For a moment their gazes locked; then she looked away. Jeff turned back to Nathan, feeling guilty for staring.
“Hey, Jeff,” a voice called. KC came toward him, holding Kristi’s arm. “You know Kristi Case, don’t you?”
Jeff nodded, “We have English together.”
“Great!” I thought maybe you could help her have a good time, show her around. Why don’t you get her a drink. Start on the punch in the dining room, and get one for yourself too. Brent Tate can mix one that will wake you up.”
“No thanks,” Jeff said, “I really don’t want a drink.”
“Why not?” KC demanded.
Jeff could feel Nathan’s and Kristi’s eyes on him. Any other time he would have been groping frantically for an excuse, some place to dump the blame. But right then he didn’t want an excuse. And the last thing he wanted to do was grin.
He remembered his conversation with his father the night before. Why had he always insisted on being different? He had never really answered that question for himself before, but right then he wanted the answer. And he wanted the others to hear it too. “I don’t drink,” he said. “You know that, KC.”
His words shocked him as much as anyone, but as soon as they were out, he felt a sense of control he had never known before. The same assuring warmth he had felt while praying seemed to come over him.
“You mean you’re not old enough to have a sip now and then?” KC asked sarcastically.
“I’m just not interested. I guess I never have been,” said Jeff.
KC’s eyes narrowed as though he had been insulted. “If you’re too good for this party why’d you bother to show up?”
Jeff smiled, but there was no apology in the expression. “I don’t know,” he said, and leaving the others standing there he stood up and started around the house.
As he walked through the shadows to his car, he knew he was alone, but there was a feeling of triumph in what he had just done. He wondered why he hadn’t taken that simple stand months earlier.
“Jeff,” a girl called to him. He stopped and looked behind him. It was Kristi. “Are you leaving now?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m leaving.”
“Could I—maybe—catch a ride with you?”
“Sure. Come on.”
For several minutes after Kristi explained where she lived, they rode in silence. Then unexpectedly she asked, “Are you a Mormon?”
No one had ever asked Jeff that before. He had always just assumed his religion was obvious. “Yeah, I’m Mormon,” he said.
“I always thought you were, but …”
“But what?”
“I guess I was just shocked to see you there tonight. I’d never gone to a party like that, and I didn’t know what to expect. But I wasn’t expecting you. You really don’t drink?”
“No, I don’t drink.”
“Have you ever?”
Jeff laughed. “What is this, the Inquisition?”
Kristi smiled, “I’m sorry. I was just curious.”
“No, I haven’t,” said Jeff. He was glad he could say that.
“I’ve seen you around school, and I thought you were—different. But when I saw you at the party—well, I thought you were just like all the others.”
“The others?”
“Oh, lately I’ve wondered if maybe I was the odd one, if there was anybody around that really …” she hesitated. “Well, that really believed in the gospel. Do you ever feel like that?”
Jeff smiled; then laughed. It felt so good not to grin. “I get discouraged sometimes, but I get over it.” He looked over at Kristi, “You’ll be all right,” he said with conviction.
And he knew that he would be too. His dad had been right. It didn’t matter if there were 7,000 or 70,000 who were trying to do what was right because no one, not Elijah, not Kristi, and not Jeff Daniels was ever really alone.

Illustration by Christiane Beauregard
Two years after my wife, Madeleinne, and I were baptized and confirmed, I became less active and quit going to church. Every Sunday morning, she would encourage me to get up and go with her, but I would say no.
“I’m tired. Let me sleep,” I would say. And later I would go play soccer.
Madeleinne would get up by herself and head to the chapel with our son, Lucas. In the rain or the cold, she always went.
Looking back, I realize that Satan was attacking me. He convinced me that I was fine without the Church. He told me, “You’re good, you’re calm, you’re comfortable.” But in reality, I had lost blessings, progress, and happiness. Thankfully, my wife and my Heavenly Father helped me see things clearly.
One Friday night about a year after I quit attending church, I had a dream. I dreamed that I was in a beautiful countryside, walking hand in hand with my wife and my son. We were very happy.
But then it began to grow dark. It became so dark that I couldn’t see anything. Suddenly, I noticed that I was no longer holding hands with my wife and son. I called their names, hoping they would return. I wanted them back, and I wanted the darkness to disappear.
At that moment, I experienced what it means to be truly miserable. I had lost Madeleinne and Lucas. They had moved ahead without me, leaving me alone, surrounded by darkness.
When I awoke the next morning, I realized that my Father in Heaven had given me a sign. If I didn’t return to church and take my wife and son to the temple to be sealed, I would lose them. I would not have them in the next life. I would be in a lost, miserable state.
“Tomorrow,” I told Madeleinne, “I’ll go to church.”
Every Sunday morning since then, I have gone to church with my family. I have not missed a single meeting since that dream five years ago. We were eventually sealed in the temple in September 2016.
I’m thankful for all my,blessings. I’m especially grateful for my family and for my wife’s courage, strength, and example. I’m grateful that she and my Heavenly Father never gave up on me. I am the man I am today thanks to them.

Each of us has his own way of remembering. At Christmastime I take delight in visiting the widows and widowers from the ward where I served as bishop. There were eighty-seven then, just eight today. On such visits, I never know what to expect, but this I do know: visits like these provide for me the Christmas spirit, which is, in reality, the Spirit of Christ.
Come with me, and we’ll together make a call or two.
At a nursing home on First South, we might interrupt, as I did a few years ago, a professional football game. There, before the TV, were seated two widows. They were warmly and beautifully dressed—and absorbed in the game. I asked, “Who’s winning?” They responded, “We don’t even know who’s playing, but at least it’s company.” I sat between those two angels and explained the game of football. I enjoyed the best contest I can remember. I may have missed a meeting, but I harvested a memory.
Let’s hurry along to Redwood Road. There is a much larger home here where many widows reside. Most are seated in the well-lighted living room. But in her bedroom, alone, is one on whom I must call. She hasn’t spoken a word since a devastating stroke some years ago. But then, who knows what she hears, so I speak of good times together. There isn’t a flicker of recognition, not a word spoken. In fact, an attendant asks if I am aware that this patient hasn’t uttered a word for years. It makes no difference. Not only have I enjoyed my one-sided conversation with her—I have communed with God.

When I was a child, I liked doing things my dad did. He worked as a doctor. I often went with him to the hospital, where I saw him help patients. Watching my dad made me want to be a doctor too.
One day I was walking into the hospital with my dad. Another doctor walked out. He saw me and asked my dad, “Is this your son?” My dad said yes. The doctor knelt to look at me. He asked, “What will you be when you grow up?”
I said, “I want to be a doctor, like my dad.” Then he replied, “Well, I hope you’re as good a doctor as he is.” But my dad said, “No, I want him to be better than me.”
That helped me realize that my dad really loved me. He wanted the best for me.

“I have heard that only 2 percent of the population is born with extraordinary talent. Most people have to work to become good!
“Let me give an illustration: Half a century ago a boy of ten was working in Naples in a factory. He longed to be a singer, but his first teacher discouraged him.
“‘You can’t sing,’ he said. ‘You haven’t any voice at all. It sounds like shutters.’ But his mother, a poor peasant woman, put her arms around him and told him she knew he could sing. She could see an improvement already, and she went barefoot in order to save money to pay for his music lessons. That peasant mother’s praise and encouragement changed her boy’s life. He was to become one of the world’s greatest tenors. His name was Caruso.
“You mustn’t give false praise, but instead, be like this mother and find the good. Then give your sister the genuine praise that she seeks.”
Bruce Wendell BarkerJacksonville, North Carolina

By Rajane S., Jamaica
I have always been fascinated by genealogy work, so when our Area Presidency gave the youth the goal of gathering 10 ancestors’ names to do baptisms and confirmations for them at the temple, I was ecstatic.
I started my research without any help, but I wasn’t getting anywhere. I had three names without any information, and at that point I felt stuck both spiritually and physically. I decided to ask my mother for help. She suggested that I call her mother. When I called my grandmother, she was more than happy to help. She even gave me permission to act as proxy on behalf of the names we talked about. I was overjoyed and grateful.
The temple trip was approaching, and I had no names from my father’s side. A few hours before I was to leave home, I felt impressed to go to the cemetery and have my father call his aunt to come. We went to the cemetery, and as I watched my father and great-aunt walk around the cemetery, I felt myself being led toward some of my ancestors’ headstones. I felt their willingness to be part of the gospel. With help from the Holy Ghost and from my family members, I had reached my target. I had the names of 16 temple-ready ancestors!
When I went to the temple, I could feel the enthusiasm and excitement of my ancestors who were ready and waiting. During the baptisms and confirmations, I could feel their souls filled with joy and peace. I felt amazing, and all I wanted to do was thank them for giving me the opportunity to be a part of something so special.

I knelt beside my three-year-old and listened to his scrambled bedtime prayer: “I’m thankful for Mommy and Daddy, snow and clouds. I’m thankful for Santa Claus. I’m thankful for pizza and my big brother. Thank you for food. Thank you for everything.”
I waited as he hesitated. With such a long inventory of blessings, I assumed he was deciding between continuing his list or jumping into his warm, inviting bed. After a long pause, he hastily added, “Oh, and please bless our dumb old cat.” He then finished his prayer with an emphatic amen.

One day while working around our home, trimming the hedges and vines, I had an interesting experience. I was at work with my electric clippers and long extension cord. I had done this often, each time reminding myself of the need to use these clippers with great care in order to avoid cutting things that I shouldn’t.
Suddenly the blades became jammed. Caught between them was the power cord itself. Because I had not seen it in the thicket I was trimming, I had cut into the very line that was providing the power to work.
“Isn’t that one of life’s great lessons?” I thought. “Power, if misused, can cut into the very source of that power.”
Just as the careless use of electrical power can sever the source of that power, so is it possible to misuse spiritual power to sever our spiritual power line. We would then lose that which enables us to generate success in our lives. Proper use of our spiritual power line allows us to learn, to labor, to be obedient to law, and to love. While these capabilities lead to fulfillment, at the same time they also carry risk.
Consider the power to learn. How essential it is for progress, whether one’s career is professional or that of a salesman, a farmer, or a homemaker.
But learning can be misused! A sharp mind, misdirected, can cut into that line of spiritual power. Some “learned” souls delight in leading others astray, all in the so-called name of learning. Years later their victims may realize that they have climbed their ladder of learning, only to find it leaning against the wrong wall. A prophet of the Lord has counseled us on this point:
“O that cunning plan of the evil one! O the vainness, and the frailties, and the foolishness of men! When they are learned they think they are wise, and they hearken not unto the counsel of God, for they set it aside, supposing they know of themselves, wherefore, their wisdom is foolishness and it profiteth them not. And they shall perish.
“But to be learned is good if they hearken unto the counsels of God.” (2 Ne. 9:28–29; italics added.)
What happens without spiritual learning? What happens to the pilot of a glider when he is cut loose from the power of his tow plane? There may be banks and turns, but ultimately there is only one direction he can go, and that is down!
We must gain learning, but we must apply it wisely. Otherwise, we have politics without principle, industry without morality, knowledge without wisdom, science without humanity!
Consider the power of labor. Labor well spent increases our capacity to do. President Heber J. Grant often said, “‘That which we persist in doing becomes easier for us to do; not that the nature of the thing itself is changed, but that our power to do is increased.’” (In Conference Report, Apr. 1901, p. 63.)
The Lord, through his prophet Lehi, said, “It must needs be, that there is an opposition in all things.” (2 Ne. 2:11.) So, in reality, competition forces us to improve. It deserves our praise and our gratitude. Without it we could not reach the heights that are otherwise ours to achieve.
But our labor can be misdirected. One can be anxiously engaged in a meaningless cause. Or one can do something wrong a hundred times and call it experience! Some would avoid labor while pursuing the goals of wealth without working for it, or an honored position without preparing for it. The converted Lamanites taught this lesson: “Rather than shed the blood of their brethren they would give up their own lives; and rather than take away from a brother they would give unto him; and rather than spend their days in idleness they would labor abundantly with their hands.” (Alma 24:18.)
Next, consider the power of obedience to law. One of the great applications of spiritual power is obeying the laws of both God and man. Freedom to act and mastery of our actions both emanate from law. “When we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated.” (D&C 130:21.)
I relearned that so well from President Kimball. On one occasion when he needed an operation that I was to perform, he first asked me for a priesthood blessing. Following that, he said, “Now you may proceed to do that which must be done in order to make that blessing possible.”
He knew, and I knew, that not even for God’s prophet can anyone be exempted from law. Not even for God’s Son could divine law be broken!
Consider the power to love. I remember a mother I met once as I made a professional house call. This woman was confined in an iron lung. The ravages of polio had effectively destroyed all the breathing muscles so that her life was completely dependent upon this large metal tank and the electrical motor that powered its noisy bellows.
While there, I watched her three children as they related to their mother. The oldest interrupted our work to ask permission to go to a friend’s house for an hour. Later the second child asked her mother for help with arithmetic. Finally the youngest child, so small that she couldn’t see her mother’s face directly, looked up at her image in a mirror that had been placed over the mother’s head and asked, “Mommy, may I have a cookie?” I’ve never forgotten that lesson on the power of love. This woman, virtually disabled and certainly incapable of any degree of physical enforcement of parental authority, sweetly influenced that home solely with the power to love!
The power of love between a man and a woman is special. The love shared with my beloved companion, Dantzel, has increased the power of love for both of us. That love brought us to the altar in the temple of the Lord. Her love for me motivated her to teach school during the early years of our marriage. When things were tight, she held a second job at night. Once when things were exceptionally tight, she even sold her blood in between her two jobs to keep us solvent. (Her dear parents may have wondered what kind of a son-in-law they had on that occasion!) I thought of that many years later when she needed a transfusion urgently and her blood couldn’t be matched readily with donor blood from the blood bank. What a privilege it was for me to donate mine directly to her.
Can the power to love be misused? Sadly, yes. The illegitimate union of the sexes has, in my observation, been one of the greatest causes of grief. In some instances, the improper use of this sacred physical endowment has even destroyed its use in later years.
Misused, the power of love can cut off spiritual power. The abuse of the power to love can result in no love at all. Only its cheap facsimiles of lewdness and lust remain in the wake of pleasure without conscience. Instead of feasting at the banquet table of bounteous love with his own posterity, one is left with scraps from the table—only the refuse from what might have been.
The ashes of burned “love” smolder with the smoke of sadness. Yet the embers of evil still burn. But as loud voices argue on, let us remember that those who advocate abortion have already been born! Those who freely deny God with their amoral and agnostic practices will one day find that He may just as freely deny them! (See 3 Ne. 28:34.)
The source of our spiritual power is the Lord! The ultimate source of spiritual power is God our Father. The messenger of this power is the Holy Ghost. This power differs from electrical power. An electrical appliance consumes power. The use of His spiritual power replenishes our power. While electrical power can be used only for measured periods of time, spiritual power can be used for time and eternity!
Our spiritual power line is strengthened through prayer. As we counsel with God in all our doings, he will direct us for good. (See Alma 37:37.) Prayer is available whenever we ask for it!
But the Lord places the initiative upon us. He expects us to reach for his power, just as we must insert the plug in the outlet for electricity. He said, “If thou shalt ask, thou shalt receive revelation upon revelation, knowledge upon knowledge, that thou mayest know the mysteries and peaceable things—that which bringeth joy, that which bringeth life eternal.” (D&C 42:61; italics added.) Personal worthiness and scripture study enable us to do more with this power.
Rewards result from the righteous use of the spiritual power belonging to the priesthood! And they are so great that they are almost beyond human comprehension. To those couples who bear and share that priesthood worthily and remain faithful to the law of the everlasting covenant of eternal marriage, enduring the congested years and trials of diapers and dishes, crowded kitchen and thin pocketbook, service in the Church, education and the burning of the midnight oil, the Lord makes this promise: “Ye shall come forth in the first resurrection; … and shall inherit thrones, kingdoms, principalities, and powers, dominions, … [and there] shall be a fulness and a continuation of the seeds forever and ever.” (D&C 132:19; italics added.)
The spiritual power line conveys revelation. Revelation is given to the President for the Church, and to leaders and teachers in their respective callings. Personal revelation is provided for the glorification of individual members and families in the Church. These lines are well insulated, and they are not scrambled! Our Father is a God of order! No one else receives revelation to govern the Church; that will be delivered only to the President of the Church. The father in the home next door will not receive revelation for his neighbor’s family.
It is possible to disregard or even misuse spiritual power. Some have misused the power of prayer by making that sacred communication trivial. Some well-meaning Saints even do the right things for the wrong reasons, if they narrowly center on the percentages they report rather than on the precious people they serve.
Like cutting the cord with clippers, it is possible to use spiritual power so carelessly as to destroy one’s very connection to that power. I know a husband who dominates his wife as though she were his possession. He seems to regard her about as he does his automobile or his suitcase, which he uses for his own purposes. And I know a wife who dominates her husband to the point that he has lost all feelings of worth.
Remember, “The rights of the priesthood are inseparably connected with the powers of heaven, and … the powers of heaven cannot be controlled nor handled only upon the principles of righteousness.” (D&C 121:36; italics added.)
The unrighteous use of priesthood authority surely severs the connection to the Source of that authority. (See D&C 121:37.)
Worship strengthens our power line to deity. There can be no true worship without sacrifice, and there can be no true sacrifice without a cause. The cause that earns our love and priority is the cause of Jesus Christ.
Speaking of his own atonement, the Savior proclaimed, “To this end was I born, and for this cause came I into the world.” (John 18:37.) His example of worship, sacrifice, and commitment to cause becomes ours! His is the ultimate source of all our power to do good.
As we carefully and prayerfully protect the spiritual power line that links us to the Savior, we become more like him!
Of his sacred name and mission I solemnly bear special witness. Of his divine sonship I proclaim sacred testimony. That this is his church I fervently declare, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

At the unofficial 1906 games in Athens, Greece, an Austrian weight lifter, Josef Steinbach, was scorned by the partisan crowd because it was alleged he was a professional. The frustrated Austrian left the stadium, allowing the Greek in second place to win the event. The flag was raised and the crowd cheered. Then Steinbach re-entered the stadium, walked up to the weight the winner had lifted with great effort, and with ease hoisted it three times over his head.

In 1952, super-athlete Emil Zatopek of Czechoslovakia won both the 10,000 and 5,000-meter races. To celebrate his victory, he announced he would enter the marathon, even though he had never run the 41.8 kilometer event before.

“Do you really think you can win?” a newsman asked.

“If I didn’t think I could win, I wouldn’t have entered,” Zatopek replied.

At the 24.1 kilometer mark, Zatopek was side-by-side with Him Peters of Great Britain, the pre-race favorite.

“Don’t you think we should be going a bit faster?” Zatopek asked, then ran ahead. He was grinning when he won.

Football player Floyd Little of the Denver Colorado Professional Football Team summed up self-confidence: “I choose not to be an ordinary man. It is my right to be uncommon if I can.”

I knew a young woman who was taught the gospel and who wanted to join the Church but who was having trouble with the Word of Wisdom. She used cigarettes and coffee, and the thought of never having another cigarette or cup of coffee in her whole life overwhelmed her. One of the missionaries told her to try it for just one day and then just one more day. She found that by living it a day at a time she could make it, and she was soon baptized. The same would be true in changing any bad habit for a good one.

In my Aaronic Priesthood years in Hawaii half a century ago and as a missionary in England, we would gather in meetinghouses and (with intense effort) listen to the priesthood session using a telephone connection. In later years satellites allowed broadcasts to selected Church locations with those enormous dish receivers so we could both hear and view the proceedings. We were in awe of that technology! Few could have imagined today’s world, where anyone who has access to the Internet with a smartphone, tablet, or computer can receive the messages of this meeting.
However, this vastly increased accessibility to the voices of the Lord’s servants, which are the same as the Lord’s own voice (see D&C 1:38), has little value unless we are willing to receive the word (see D&C 11:21) and then follow it. Simply stated, the purpose of general conference and of this priesthood session is fulfilled only if we are willing to act—if we are willing to change.
Several decades ago I was serving as a bishop. Over an extended period I met with a man in our ward who was many years my senior. This brother had a troubled relationship with his wife and was estranged from their children. He struggled to keep employment, had no close friends, and found interaction with ward members so difficult he finally was unwilling to serve in the Church. During one intense discussion about the challenges in his life, he leaned toward me—as his conclusion to our numerous talks—and said, “Bishop, I have a bad temper, and that’s just the way I am!”
That statement stunned me that night and has haunted me ever since. Once this man decided—once any of us conclude—“That’s just the way I am,” we give up our ability to change. We might as well raise the white flag, put down our weapons, concede the battle, and just surrender—any prospect of winning is lost. While some of us may think that does not describe us, perhaps every one of us demonstrates by at least one or two bad habits, “That’s just the way I am.”
Well, we meet in this priesthood meeting because who we are is not who we can become. We meet here tonight in the name of Jesus Christ. We meet with the confidence that His Atonement gives every one of us—no matter our weaknesses, our frailties, our addictions—the ability to change. We meet with the hope that our future, no matter our history, can be better.
When we participate in this meeting with the “real intent” to change (Moroni 10:4), the Spirit has full access to our hearts and minds. As the Lord revealed to the Prophet Joseph Smith, “And it shall come to pass, that inasmuch as they … exercise faith in me”—remember, faith is a principle of power and of action—“I will pour out my Spirit upon them in the day that they assemble themselves together” (D&C 44:2). That means tonight!
If you think your challenges are insurmountable, let me tell you of a man we met in a small village outside of Hyderabad, India, in 2006. This man exemplified a willingness to change. Appa Rao Nulu was born in rural India. When he was three years old, he contracted polio and was left physically disabled. His society taught him that his potential was severely limited. However, as a young adult he met our missionaries. They taught him of a greater potential, both in this life and in the eternity to come. He was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. With a significantly raised vision, he set a goal to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood and to serve a full-time mission. In 1986 he was ordained an elder and called to serve in India. Walking was not easy—he did his best, using a cane in each hand, and he fell often—but quitting was never an option. He made a commitment to honorably and devotedly serve a mission, and he did.
When we met Brother Nulu, nearly 20 years after his mission, he cheerfully greeted us where the road ended and led us down an uneven dirt path to the two-room home he shared with his wife and three children. It was an extremely hot and uncomfortable day. He still walked with great difficulty, but there was no self-pity. Through personal diligence, he has become a teacher, providing schooling for the village children. When we entered his modest house, he immediately took me to a corner and pulled out a box that contained his most important possessions. He wanted me to see a piece of paper. It read, “With good wishes and blessings to Elder Nulu, a courageous and happy missionary; [dated] June 25, 1987; [signed] Boyd K. Packer.” On that occasion, when then-Elder Packer visited India and spoke to a group of missionaries, he affirmed to Elder Nulu his potential. In essence, what Brother Nulu was telling me that day in 2006 was that the gospel had changed him—permanently!
On this visit to the Nulu home, we were accompanied by the mission president. He was there to interview Brother Nulu, his wife, and his children—for the parents to receive their endowments and be sealed and for the children to be sealed to their parents. We also presented the family with arrangements for them to travel to the Hong Kong China Temple for these ordinances. They wept with joy as their long-awaited dream was to be realized.
What is expected of a holder of the priesthood of God? What changes are required of us to become the manner of men we ought to be? I make three suggestions:
We need to be priesthood men! Whether we are young men holding the Aaronic Priesthood or men bearing the Melchizedek Priesthood, we need to be priesthood men, showing spiritual maturity because we have made covenants. As Paul said, “When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things” (1 Corinthians 13:11). We should be different because we hold the priesthood—not arrogant or prideful or patronizing but humble and teachable and meek. Receiving the priesthood and its various offices should mean something to us. It should not be a perfunctory “rite of passage” that automatically happens at certain ages but a sacred act of covenant thoughtfully made. We should feel so privileged and so grateful that our every action shows it. If we seldom even think about the priesthood, we need to change.
We need to serve! The essence of holding the priesthood is to magnify our calling (see D&C 84:33) by serving others. Avoiding our most important duty to serve our wives and children, not accepting or passively fulfilling callings in the Church, or not caring about others unless it is convenient is not who we should be. The Savior declared, “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind” (Matthew 22:37) and later added, “If thou lovest me thou shalt serve me” (D&C 42:29). Selfishness is the antithesis of priesthood responsibility, and if it is a trait of our character, we need to change.
We need to be worthy! I may not have the ability of Elder Jeffrey R. Holland when he spoke in a priesthood session a few years ago to “get in your face … , nose to nose, with just enough fire … to singe your eyebrows” (“We Are All Enlisted,” Ensign or Liahona, Nov. 2011, 45); but, dear brethren, we need to wake up to how commonly accepted practices in the world choke our power in the priesthood. If we think we can even flirt with pornography or violations of chastity or dishonesty in any form and not have it negatively affect us and our families, we are deceived. Moroni stated, “See that ye do all things in worthiness” (Mormon 9:29). The Lord powerfully directed, “And I now give unto you a commandment to beware concerning yourselves, to give diligent heed to the words of eternal life” (D&C 84:43). If there are any unresolved sins preventing our worthiness, we need to change.
The only complete response to the question posed by Jesus Christ “What manner of men ought ye to be?” is the one He succinctly and profoundly gave: “Even as I am” (3 Nephi 27:27). The invitation to “come unto Christ, and be perfected in him” (Moroni 10:32) both requires and expects change. Mercifully, He has not left us alone. “And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. … Then will I make weak things become strong” (Ether 12:27). Relying upon the Savior’s Atonement, we can change. Of this I am certain. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Years ago when I first received an appointment that resulted in my picture being in the newspapers, one of my high school teachers, evidently quite astonished, was heard to say, “That just proves that you can’t tell by looking at a frog how high he is going to jump!”
The image of that frog, sitting in the mud instead of jumping, illustrates how inadequate I have felt when facing the responsibilities that have come to me.
These feelings fix it so that thereafter one can never feel superior to anyone, not anyone.
For a long time, something else puzzled me. Forty-six years ago I was a 37-year-old seminary supervisor. My Church calling was as an assistant teacher in a class in the Lindon Ward.
To my great surprise, I was called to meet with President David O. McKay. He took both of my hands in his and called me to be one of the General Authorities, an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
A few days later, I came to Salt Lake City to meet with the First Presidency to be set apart as one of the General Authorities of the Church. This was the first time I had met with the First Presidency—President David O. McKay and his counselors, President Hugh B. Brown and President Henry D. Moyle.
President McKay explained that one of the responsibilities of an Assistant to the Twelve was to stand with the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles as a special witness and to bear testimony that Jesus is the Christ. What he said next overwhelmed me: “Before we proceed to set you apart, I ask you to bear your testimony to us. We want to know if you have that witness.”
I did the best I could. I bore my testimony the same as I might have in a fast and testimony meeting in my ward. To my surprise, the Brethren of the Presidency seemed pleased and proceeded to confer the office upon me.
That puzzled me greatly, for I had supposed that someone called to such an office would have an unusual, different, and greatly enlarged testimony and spiritual power.
It puzzled me for a long time until finally I could see that I already had what was required: an abiding testimony in my heart of the Restoration of the fulness of the gospel through the Prophet Joseph Smith, that we have a Heavenly Father, and that Jesus Christ is our Redeemer. I may not have known all about it, but I did have a testimony, and I was willing to learn.
I was perhaps no different from those spoken of in the Book of Mormon: “And whoso cometh unto me with a broken heart and a contrite spirit, him will I baptize with fire and with the Holy Ghost, even as the Lamanites, because of their faith in me at the time of their conversion, were baptized with fire and with the Holy Ghost, and they knew it not” (3 Nephi 9:20; emphasis added).
Over the years, I have come to see how powerfully important that simple testimony is. I have come to understand that our Heavenly Father is the Father of our spirits (see Numbers 16:22; Hebrews 12:9; D&C 93:29). He is a father with all the tender love of a father. Jesus said, “For the Father himself loveth you, because ye have loved me, and have believed that I came out from God” (John 16:27).
Some years ago, I was with President Marion G. Romney, meeting with mission presidents and their wives in Geneva, Switzerland. He told them that 50 years before, as a missionary boy in Australia, late one afternoon he had gone to a library to study. When he walked out, it was night. He looked up into the starry sky, and it happened. The Spirit touched him, and a certain witness was born in his soul.
He told those mission presidents that he did not know any more surely then as a member of the First Presidency that God the Father lives; that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, the Only Begotten of the Father; and that the fulness of the gospel had been restored than he did as a missionary boy 50 years before in Australia. He said that his testimony had changed in that it was much easier to get an answer from the Lord. The Lord’s presence was nearer, and he knew the Lord much better than he had 50 years before.
There is the natural tendency to look at those who are sustained to presiding positions, to consider them to be higher and of more value in the Church or to their families than an ordinary member. Somehow we feel they are worth more to the Lord than are we. It just does not work that way!
It would be very disappointing to my wife and to me if we supposed any one of our children would think that we think we are of more worth to the family or to the Church than they are, or to think that one calling in the Church was esteemed over another or that any calling would be thought to be less important.
Recently, one of our sons was sustained as ward mission leader. His wife told us how thrilled he was with the call. It fits the very heavy demands of his work. He has the missionary spirit and will find good use for his Spanish, which he has kept polished from his missionary days. We also were very, very pleased at his call.
What my son and his wife are doing with their little children transcends anything they could do in the Church or out. No service could be more important to the Lord than the devotion they give to one another and to their little children. And so it is with all our other children. The ultimate end of all activity in the Church centers in the home and the family.
As General Authorities of the Church, we are just the same as you are, and you are just the same as we are. You have the same access to the powers of revelation for your families and for your work and for your callings as we do.
It is also true that there is an order to things in the Church. When you are called to an office, you then receive revelation that belongs to that office that would not be given to others.
No member of the Church is esteemed by the Lord as more or less than any other. It just does not work that way! Remember, He is a father—our Father. The Lord is “no respecter of persons.”
We are not worth more to the onrolling of the Lord’s work than were Brother and Sister Toutai Paletu‘a in Nuku‘alofa, Tonga; or Brother and Sister Carlos Cifuentes in Santiago, Chile; or Brother and Sister Peter Dalebout in the Netherlands; or Brother and Sister Tatsui Sato of Japan; or hundreds of others I have met while traveling about the world. It just does not work that way.
And so the Church moves on. It is carried upon the shoulders of worthy members living ordinary lives among ordinary families, guided by the Holy Ghost and the Light of Christ, which is in them.
I bear witness that the gospel is true and that the worth of souls is great in the sight of God—every soul—and that we are blessed to be members of the Church. I have the witness that would qualify me for the calling I have. I’ve had it since I met the First Presidency those many years ago. I bear it to you in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.