Gospel Story Finder

When I was a boy, my maternal grandfather had a large cherry orchard. I had the opportunity to work in the orchard, mostly in the summer during the harvest of the cherries. As a very young boy, I found that the extent of my involvement was being handed a bucket and then sent up a tree to pick the cherries.

The harvesting of cherries changed significantly when my grandfather purchased a machine called a cherry shaker. This machine grabs the trunk of the tree and shakes it, causing the cherries to fall out of the tree onto nets that are used to collect the cherries. I noticed that when the shaker would begin to shake the tree, almost all the cherries fell out of the tree within seconds. I also noticed that it didn’t matter if the tree was shaken for 10 seconds or a full minute, some cherries would not fall. They were truly unshakable.

Shaking cherries out of a tree is possible because of the release of ethylene. This hormone causes the layer of cells between the stem of the cherry and the tree to weaken. Therefore, the stem of a ripe cherry more easily detaches from the tree because of the weakened connection.

In the scriptures, we learn that the stem of Jesse is a metaphor for the Messiah, Jesus Christ, who was prophesied to come from the lineage of Jesse, the father of King David. Just as ethylene weakens the connection of a ripe cherry stem, disobedience, doubts, and fears can weaken our connection to the stem of Jesse, or Jesus Christ, allowing us to be easily shaken and separated from Him. As faithful as we may be, we must guard against a weakening of our connection to Jesus Christ.

In the Doctrine and Covenants, even the faithful are given a warning: “But there is a possibility that man may fall from grace and depart from the living God.” The Lord continues, “Yea, … even let those who are sanctified take heed also.” To avoid falling, the Lord counsels, “Therefore let the church take heed and pray always, lest they fall into temptation.”

One might equate the state of being easily shaken to what scriptures describe as being ripe for destruction, with impending consequences for actions. The phrase can also be used more broadly to indicate a state of decay, corruption, or decline that makes something susceptible to collapse or ruin.

What does this ripeness represent? Does it mean that we can reach a point where we are unable to change? No, I think it means that we can reach a point in time where we are unwilling to change. The antidote to becoming ripe for destruction is to do those things that will strengthen our connection to Jesus Christ. As mentioned, repentance led Enos to the point of unshaken faith. There is strength in repentance—regular, prompt, and frequent repentance. As President Nelson taught us, “Nothing is more liberating, more ennobling, or more crucial to our individual progression than is a regular, daily focus on repentance.”

In addition to preaching repentance, the prophet Jacob taught that being aware of God’s hand in our lives, seeking and receiving revelation, and listening to God when He speaks all help us to not be shaken. Jacob also taught, “Wherefore, we search the prophets, and we have many revelations and the spirit of prophecy; and having all these witnesses we obtain a hope, and our faith becometh unshaken.” Listening to and acting on the words and invitations of the prophets and apostles can fill us with hope, confidence, and strength, resulting in our faith becoming unshaken.

I have learned that a desire to be reconciled to God must be accompanied by a desire to repent. Repenting and experiencing the blessings of the Atonement of Jesus Christ lead to unshaken faith. Unshaken faith leads to a desire to always be reconciled to God. This is a circular, or iterative, pattern.

Brothers and sisters, I invite you to be reconciled to God through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. I testify that making and keeping covenants makes our connection to the Savior strong, thereby avoiding becoming ripe for destruction. I testify that this reconciliation to God, through Jesus Christ’s Atonement, leads to unshakable faith.

I know Heavenly Father loves you and me, and He sent His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ, to be our Savior, Redeemer, and the great Reconciler. I testify of Jesus Christ and do so in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Damon; King; Pythias. (Illustrated by Dilleen Marsh.)
Damon hurried along the cold stone passageway beneath the castle. He was looking for his friend Pythias, who had been arrested by the king’s soldiers. Damon searched among the prisoners until he found Pythias, who was chained in a dim corner of the dungeon.
“Why did they bring you here, my friend?” asked Damon.
Pythias reached his hand between the narrow bars to touch his childhood friend. “I am accused of being a rebel,” Pythias answered. “But I did nothing.”
The two young men did not hear the outer door open as the king entered the dungeon. He stood listening to the boys talk.
“How can I help you?” asked Damon. “Shall I go to your parents and comfort them?”
“If only I could see them again … , ” said Pythias. “If only I could say farewell to them … then I would return again to prison.”
The king laughed aloud. “So, you would come back to die if I would release you to say good-bye to your parents?” the monarch asked skeptically.
“I would come back,” Pythias said simply. “I promise that I would come back.”
“How do I know that you would keep your promise?” roared the king. His eyes glared.
Damon stood before the king. “Let me stay here in his place. Pythias has always kept his word. You may execute me if he does not keep his promise.”
The king could not believe his ears. This would be an interesting story to tell—a boy willing to risk his life for the promise of a friend. “I will grant your wish, Pythias,” said the king, “if Damon will take your place.” And so it was. Pythias was released, and Damon was chained in his friend’s place.
Many days passed. The king came to the prison to taunt Damon. “You will die for your friend—he has not kept his promise!” jeered the king. “Pythias always keeps his word,” replied Damon calmly.
Finally the day of the execution arrived. Many people came to mock the boy who had entrusted his life to his friend. “We told you that he would not return,” they jeered.
“He will come if he can,” Damon said. “It is a long way, and he will come if he—”
“Here he comes!” shouted a soldier. “Pythias has returned!”
Damon smiled as Pythias rushed to take his place. Storms and misfortune had delayed him, and Pythias could hardly breathe after his hard run. “I made it, Damon!” he panted.
“I knew that you would,” his friend replied.
The king was amazed. Never had he known that there could be such friendship and loyalty. His heart softened, and he said, “Go, Damon and Pythias. Go back to your homes. Keeping your promise has set you free.” Then the king turned to the crowd and said, “I would give all my wealth to have one such friend.” (Adapted from “Love Fails Not,” Sharing Time Resource Manual, page 57.)

Recently I visited with the family of a young mother who died while giving birth to her fifth child. I expected anguish but found hope and determination. Her husband cherished the time they had together. Their children understood the plan of salvation and knew they could be with their mother again, forever. She had never been too busy for those most dear to her. At her young age, this sister had served as a Relief Society president, always putting her marriage and family first.
As I visited with the mother of the deceased woman, she remarked that her highest priority was to raise her daughters to be righteous women. Even though her daughter’s life was cut short, this daughter created a tapestry of righteous gospel living in her home.
Together your general Relief Society presidency, under the direction of our priesthood leaders, created a declaration for our Relief Society sisters around the world. The declaration reminds us who we are; and home, family, and personal enrichment night has been set aside to develop these skills.
Do we recognize in our own lives the opportunities for creation that are there? Do we prize the gifts, talent, and choice spirits that God has given us? Do we share the creations of our hearts, minds, and hands with others?
Another mother and counselor in a stake Relief Society, though tremendous health problems threatened her, created a remarkable service project in her stake. Through fasting and prayer, miracles occurred, and the sisters of one stake created something extraordinary for others who were cold, hungry, and sick.
Who knows how many lives have been blessed because one woman refused to dwell on her afflictions and instead created the tapestry of service, a monument to the compassion and nobility of the human spirit.
This story is repeated by tens of thousands of faithful members each year. In July of last year, the Presiding Bishopric distributed a letter suggesting that any who wanted to contribute to the relief of the suffering of the refugees in Kosovo could make quilts and send them to the Latter-day Saint Humanitarian Center for distribution. Our intent was to collect and ship 30,000 quilts.
We have received more than 125,000 quilts. These quilts have been sent not only to those suffering in Kosovo, but to disaster victims in Turkey, Venezuela, Mexico, and other countries, including Mozambique and Zimbabwe.
During this past year I was privileged to travel to Kosovo, where I personally wrapped many of these quilts around babies and women grateful and teary-eyed. We have found that because of this great organization, we can create in our own homes, teaching family, friends, and neighbors to serve and assist others clear across the world. In the name of the Relief Society and humanitarian services of the Church, we can be creators. Isn’t that exciting?

Several years ago I went to Arches National Park with my wife; our daughter, Evelin; and a family friend. One of the most famous arches there is called Delicate Arch. We decided to walk about 1.5 miles (2 km), climbing the mountain in order to reach the arch.
We started off on our pathway with great enthusiasm, but after walking a short stretch, the others needed to rest. Because of my desire to get there, I decided to continue on alone. Without paying attention to the path I ought to take, I followed a man in front of me who seemed to be moving forward with great surety. The pathway became more and more difficult, and I had to jump from one rock to another. Because of the difficulty, I was sure the women in my group would never make it. Suddenly I saw Delicate Arch, but to my great surprise, I saw that it was in an area inaccessible to me.
With great frustration, I decided to go back. I waited impatiently until we met up again. My immediate question was “Did you reach Delicate Arch?” They happily told me that they had. They explained that they had followed the signs showing the way, and with care and effort, they had reached their destination.
Unfortunately, I had taken the wrong way. What a great lesson I learned that day!

Equal to my fears of going to the bishop were my feelings of unworthiness to be at church with people who were living good lives and had not indulged in the sins I had committed. I was sure the first Sunday I returned to church that everyone would see right into my soul and know what I was guilty of and the feelings I was struggling with.

Instead, my anxieties were put to rest when members of the ward welcomed me back with loving fellowship. Repentance would have been much more difficult if I had gone from being a less-active member to a less-included member of the ward.

“Mommy, Daddy,” Colin said, “get up!”
He tugged harder at his parents’ puffy blue quilt.
Mommy opened her eye for a second, then snapped it shut. Daddy rolled over and said, “Colin, why are you up so early?” Daddy’s voice croaked like a frog, the way it always did in the morning.
“Because I just remembered something important.”
Mommy opened both eyes, and this time she kept them open. “What did you remember?”
“I’m supposed to give the scripture today in Primary.”
Daddy groped for his glasses on the night table, and Mommy pulled the covers tightly around her. “I wish you’d told us yesterday when we were getting ready for Sunday,” she mumbled.
Colin wished that he’d remembered too. But he hadn’t. Maybe it was because he’d never said the scripture before. He hadn’t been in Primary very long.
Daddy rolled out of bed. “Well, Colin, let’s go find a scripture. You can learn one right now and still have plenty of time to get ready for church.”
Daddy and Colin went into the living room and got down the big brown Bible. “How about this one?” Dad said. “Matthew 19:14 [Matt. 19:14]—‘Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven.’”
“That’s a nice scripture,” Colin said.
“Do you know what it means?” Daddy asked.
“Not exactly, but I think it means that Jesus loves kids,” Colin answered.
“You’re right,” Daddy said. “When some parents had brought their children to be blessed by Jesus, his followers, called disciples, tried to turn them away. But Jesus told them to let the children come to him.”
“That’s a perfect scripture for Primary,” Colin said. “Besides, it’s short.”
Daddy laughed and helped Colin learn the scripture. They worked on it for quite a while. Colin said it slowly and loudly, just like Daddy told him to, until he could say it perfectly. He was ready.
A few hours later, when Colin was sitting in Primary, Sister Marlowe asked him if he was ready with his scripture. Colin grinned and said, “I sure am. I’ve been practicing all morning.”
Sister Marlowe looked happy and asked Colin to sit in the front.
At first it was fun to sit there and look at the other children. Then he noticed how many people there were. The rows were full of children and teachers. Some of the girls and boys were little, like Colin—but some were big! Those big kids won’t listen to me, he thought. They might even laugh at me.
Just then Sister Marlowe announced, “Colin Samuels will give our scripture now.”
Colin walked to the microphone. His knees shook, and his hands were sweaty. His heart pounded so loudly that he wondered if everyone could hear it.
At the microphone, he took a big breath and started to say his scripture. But nothing came out. Not a single word. Colin couldn’t remember anything.
The room got very quiet. Colin was the quietest of all. He felt as if hundreds of eyes were staring at him.
One of the teachers coughed. Colin’s teacher, Sister Lopez, smiled. His best friend, Jacob, squirmed in his chair.
Colin looked at his mommy and daddy sitting in the back row. Daddy was trying to tell him something, but Colin couldn’t tell what it was. Mommy was smiling at him, but she looked a little worried.
Colin turned to Sister Marlowe and whispered, “I can’t remember.” Then he went back to his seat and sat down. His face was burning, and he felt like he was going to cry. How could he have forgotten? He knew it so well when Primary had started.
Sister Marlowe stood up and said, “You know, boys and girls, sometimes if we don’t say something out loud, Heavenly Father still hears us and knows what is in our hearts.”
Colin thought about Heavenly Father listening. Please help me, he prayed in his mind. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
Suddenly he remembered his scripture. He jumped up and walked to the microphone. Sister Marlowe looked surprised but put her arm around his shoulders and stood with him while he spoke into the microphone.
Colin looked straight at his daddy and mommy. “Matthew 19:14—‘Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven.’” [Matt. 19:14]
Every word was exactly as he’d practiced it. Daddy and Mommy both smiled. Sister Lopez smiled and winked. Jacob grinned. Even the big kids smiled.
Colin sat down. His knees didn’t shake any more, and his heart stopped thundering. With Heavenly Father’s help, he’d done it! He’d remembered his scripture! He grinned at everyone in Primary—even at the big kids.

Another day I witnessed the need for the Spirit to help guide the service that was being performed by well-meaning neighbors. A widow lady said to me, “I don’t need more food. My freezer is literally full of the neighbors’ cakes and pies and goodies. But I need for someone to invite me to go to Temple Square with them and their children to see the Christmas lights. You don’t really see the lights without the children.”

Sometimes it’s cake, but sometimes it isn’t. It is the Spirit that will help us customize our service.

I once met with a woman who was suffering from depression, low self-esteem, who continually made poor decisions in her life and she was miserable. As a child, she had been sexually abused for a number of years and she never quite got her life off the ground. I remember how sad I was when I heard her life story. After she left my office, I fell upon my knees and cried to the Lord, asking Him to heal her and make her happier.

At a subsequent session, I shared with her a talk given by the Apostle, Elder Richard G. Scott, in which he said: "I solemnly testify that when another's acts of violence, perversion, or incest hurt you terribly, against your will, you are not responsible and you must not feel guilty. You may be left scarred by abuse, but those scars need not be permanent. In the eternal plan, in the Lord's timetable, those injuries can be made right as you do your part."

Her part, she decided after much pondering, was to live the gospel principles. Then she read in 3 Nephi 12:43-44, [slide 3]"And behold it is written also, that thou shalt love thy neighbor and hate thine enemy; But behold I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you and pray for them who despitefully use you and persecute you."

This woman realized that she had been filled with feelings of hate, shame, worthlessness and guilt. [end slide 3][slide 4, blank] She realized that what was important was not the past in itself but how she was responding to the past. She realized that she did not have to see life in such a discolored, dysfunctional way and continue in the same pattern.. She began the process of changing her thoughts, softening her heart, trusting again, finding value in herself, understanding her great worth as a child of God and understanding the depth of love that the Savior had for her.

As her level of spirituality increased, she allowed the great Atonement to heal her. In time, she became a changed person, happier, more cheerful, more loving, more confident. She had listened to the counsel of an Apostle and the scriptures and then she had taken positive action. This woman has done remarkable things with her life since then for she let the Lord into her heart and now, her life is a fulfilling one.

But another day with my father shaped my life forever. He took me from New Jersey to the home of an ordained patriarch in Salt Lake City. I had never seen the man before. My father left me at the doorstep. The patriarch led me to a chair, placed his hands on my head, and pronounced a blessing as a gift from God that included a declaration of the great desire of my heart.

He said that I was one of those of whom it had been said, “Blessed are the peacemakers.”6 I was so surprised that a perfect stranger could know my heart that I opened my eyes to see the room where such a miracle was happening. That blessing of my possibilities has shaped my life, my marriage, and my priesthood service.

After hearing the discussions and attending sacrament meeting, Chea knew he had found what he was looking for. “The people are so nice. I feel I belong. As I learn the scriptures and read the Book of Mormon, I can feel Heavenly Father’s love for me.” Chea loves to sing and adds, “The music makes me very happy.” Although his parents have taken the missionary lessons, attend church often, and fully support Chea, they have not joined.

After his baptism, Chea and the elders became very good friends. “Almost every day Chea would hop over the back fence and climb the stairs to our apartment,” recalls Elder Gooch. “After fixing himself a piece of unbuttered toast, he would tell us about friends and relatives he wanted us to visit. Sometimes we had a hard time keeping up!”

With a twinkle in his eye, Chea recalls the first person he told the elders about. “Sothom Chea was in my class at school. At first I was afraid of him. I thought he didn’t like me. I asked him if he would like to meet my friends, Elder Black and Elder Gooch. When Sothom said yes I was surprised but very, very happy.” Chea accompanied the elders to all of Sothom’s discussions. He says, “I enjoyed translating the lessons. I learned so much. I could feel the Holy Spirit. Besides, it was fun.”

Old as well as young have benefited from Chea’s desire to share his newfound knowledge. His neighbor, Sophon Heng, a mother of four, and her elderly mother Hong Heng were baptized as a result of Chea’s efforts. Sophon recalls, “Chea was so kind to us. He asked us if we would like to meet two men who would teach us and make us happy. When we said yes, Chea and the elders came to our home each week and taught us the gospel.”

For Chea it is not a sacrifice but a real joy to share Heavenly Father’s message. “Each time I go with the elders I seem to learn something new. I enjoy learning about how to return to Heavenly Father—what I must do and what I must avoid.”

Irene Danjou, Chea’s former Primary president, beams as she remembers, “Each Sunday he would bring a different friend to church. He’d introduce them to me, spell their names, tell me their ages, and sit with them until they felt comfortable. Then he would go to his own class. He did this every week for a whole year!”

One example of Chea’s diligence and enthusiasm as a young missionary is recorded in Elder Gooch’s journal: “I was home for lunch, sitting on my hardwood rocking chair, trying to prepare a talk for zone conference. Somehow I just couldn’t get my thoughts gathered. The telephone rang. It was Chea. He told me that he wanted Elder Black and me to visit the Vongs, a Cambodian family that had been in Lowell for a year. They were praying and fasting to find a church they could attend.”

Saveth Vong and her three children, Chetena, Chendra, and Tola, had narrowly escaped execution. Her husband, a pilot in the Cambodian Army, had been captured. Saveth and her children managed to get out of prison three days before they were scheduled to be shot.

Chea smiles as he recalls his and the elder’s first visit to the Vong home. “Everyone seemed so eager to learn. There were many questions. The Spirit was very strong.” Although the Vongs used a Book of Mormon printed in Cambodian, they needed help with gospel principles. Chea played an important role, assisting the elders as he translated discussions and shared his own experiences in the Church. Elder Gooch’s journal entry continues, “Day after day, Chea sat quietly by Saveth helping her understand the things we taught. He never seemed to tire of the message of the gospel.”

Indeed, as Chea taught the gospel his testimony grew. He recalls, “I remember reading 3 Nephi 27:7: ‘Therefore, whatsoever ye shall do, ye shall do in my name; therefore ye shall call the church in my name; and ye shall call upon the Father in my name that he will bless the church for my sake.’ [3 Ne. 27:7] I thought, how could it be that I’ve never seen this scripture before? It makes so much sense. Heavenly Father’s true church must be named after his Son!”

This scripture also confirmed for Chea what he knew in his heart was true—that if he prayed to Heavenly Father in the name of Jesus and asked for help to share the gospel message, Heavenly Father would bless his efforts.

When the Vongs made the decision to be baptized, Chea was delighted. Elder Gooch recalls that evening, “While we were driving home, Chea asked Elder Black and me to stop by a grove of trees in a nearby park so that we could thank Heavenly Father. We took turns giving thanks and expressing our joy. When we were finished, Chea climbed on my shoulders. After a few quiet moments Chea lovingly looked down, flashed his million dollar smile and said, “The Holy Ghost is with us, Gooch, isn’t it?”

“Yep, Chea, sure is.”

“I know—I felt it!”

The Vongs were baptized a week later.

Chea will be entering the sixth grade this fall. He loves to fish and play basketball and enjoys video games. Like other Cambodian youth in America, he plays an important role in helping his parents learn their new language and culture. The adults spend long hours working to make ends meet and don’t have much free time to learn English. The youth, on the other hand, pick up the language quickly and bring it home. Chea’s been particularly fortunate. Along with his regular public school classes, he’s in a special program at the Sylvan Learning Center in Chelmsford, Massachusetts. Director Joan O’Brien sees Chea as a unique child. “I think he’s a youngster who will be a real leader in the Cambodian culture. He’s like a pitcher that cannot be filled.”

We were swimming in the pool at a hotel and found a pocket watch at the bottom of the pool. We asked a lot of people if the watch belonged to them. They all said no. At the end of the day, we felt like we should go to the pool one more time with the watch. There was a family in the pool. We asked if the watch was theirs. They said it was, and they had been looking for it all week. It belonged to their dad, and it cost a lot of money. I’m glad we listened to the Holy Ghost so the watch could be returned.
Huntley, Sarabeth, and Caelin C., ages 10, 9, and 7, California, USA
Illustration of watch by Joe Flores

Dianna and I understand this challenge suggested by President Hinckley, as we reflect on our own conversion experience. Dianna was raised in a Catholic home and attended Catholic schools her entire life. I was raised as a Methodist and my grandfather was a Methodist minister. Dianna grew up in the city of Des Moines and I grew up on a farm in NE Iowa! Where we come from, they call that an intercultural marriage!

Six months after we were married, we moved to Virginia where I began working on my doctoral degree. Our understanding of the gospel grew after many, many steps over a period of the next four years.

a. The first step in our journey was that we resolved to attend church together. During that time, we attended several different denominations.

b. The second step was meeting the Litchfords when Bill was enrolled in graduate school. Coming from Utah, they were the first LDS members we had ever known. Through their friendship and examples, several misconceptions about the LDS church were dispelled. We gained an appreciation for their strong values, religious involvement, commitment to family, and their deeper understanding of life. They were not only member missionaries, but also patient friends.

c. This led to the next step. It was during one of our visits in their home that they shared a “Book of Mormon” with us which had their testimony written inside. “We would like to share with you one of things that we value above all others. It looks like a book, yet therein you will find the fullness of the gospel of Jesus Christ and one of the keys to our happiness. Love, Dan and Nancy.”

d. They also introduced us to the missionaries. In fact, for the next two years we met all the missionaries assigned to that community. Finally, upon accepting a position to teach at Utah State University, we felt it was important to hear the missionary discussions. Needless to say, this was a big jump—even a giant leap—several steps forward and upward. The missionaries taught us how to pray as a family and about the plan of salvation. They also taught us about the restoration of the gospel and about feeling the spirit to witness truth.

e. Another significant step occurred during our first year in Virginia where I received my first priesthood blessing, following a car accident which broke some bones in my hand. The doctor scheduled surgery when he learned I played the piano; during one of my final checkups, he commented that he was surprised that I was already playing the piano when another patient of his with a similar injury that occurred at the same time was still in a cast.

f. There were a series of other steps as well, including conversations with some of Bill’s curious and missionary-minded students at Utah State. As a nonmember, I was often asked by my second-graders about my membership in the church and I was invited to attend their baptisms. And we were blessed with supportive friends and neighbors. But when we learned we were expecting our first child, we knew we needed to make a decision—four years after meeting our LDS friends. We had procrastinated our spiritual progress long enough.

g. These final steps included going to Heavenly Father in prayer and fasting, meeting with the bishop in the ward we had been attending, and then, with faith, setting a baptism date. Soon after that huge step, I received the Aaronic priesthood. Six months later, Lindsey, the oldest of our four daughters, was born and I received the Melchizedek priesthood and was ordained an elder so I could give her a name and a blessing.

h. At that point, we both received our patriarchal blessings, outlining some of the plans the Lord had in store for us in this life and the next.

i. One year after our baptism, we prepared to go to the temple, received our endowment and were sealed to each other for time and all eternity. Then Lindsey was sealed to us.

You can see there were a series of many steps—some small ones, some giant leaps—that we needed to take and each occurred ... line upon line ... and each moved us forward and upward in our relationship with Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ.

I'm grateful for learning that lesson through the example of a wonderful missionary companion. Throughout my mission we served in many poor areas, and sometimes I worried about teaching people the principle of tithing. I thought that even though they would be excited about the gospel, it would still be difficult to tell them about tithing, knowing that they had so little with which to care for their families. After teaching a particularly poor family I remember thinking, and I regret to admit this, that it's too bad we have to teach this family about tithing that's going to be so hard for them. Now I hadn't said aloud what I was thinking to my companion when he turned and said to me "I know we aren't supposed to teach them about tithing for a few more discussions, but can we teach them about tithing next time?" Here I was trying to stall from teaching this family while he didn't want to put it off any longer. He said, "My family lived just like them until we found the gospel, and Heavenly Father blessed us so much, I know if we teach them about tithing then the Lord would bless and help them, can we please teach them the law of tithing so that they can keep that commandment and be blessed?"

It completely changed my attitude on the things we were teaching, I was so grateful for humble, obedient missionary companions to teach me the great blessings of knowing the Lords commandments so that we may qualify for His help. My testimony is that when we rely on the teachings of Jesus Christ then the Lord will bless us.

Dr. D. Elden Beck stood confidently before his biology students. In one hand he held a live rattlesnake.
He felt fortunate in having a job—a good teaching position—at a time when the effects of a devastating depression were being felt across the country. He was aware that once again the people of the small southern Utah communities were responding as they usually did during hard times, with determination and stubborn endurance.
Dixie Junior College, the pride of St. George, kept her doors open even though some students, to stay in school, paid their tuition with farm produce.
Dr. Beck was not a native of southern Utah, and neither he nor his family had been involved with the seemingly endless task of subduing the arid desert. Perhaps that was why he was able to see the country not merely as a place to overcome and endure but a place of breathtaking beauty. Like the natural coral, turquoise, and silver of a precious piece of Indian jewelry, the vermilion sands and blue sky dazzled him. A part of the world that had resisted discovery now seemed to him an endless frontier for study, an endless source of wonder.
The snake squirmed and struggled. Dr. Beck prepared to demonstrate to his students how a rattler is “milked” of its lethal venom, an act he had performed many times before. As he attempted to move the snake from one hand to the other, it suddenly lurched and slashed its fangs across his thumb. He reeled back in pain and instantly released the snake. It fell to the floor with a dull thud and lay still. The class was stunned. The rattlesnake slowly revived, and by gracefully throwing loops of its body forward, it began to move across the classroom floor. With shouts and screams, students clamored upon desks and chairs. To everyone’s amazement, it was Dr. Beck who tried to calm them. He gently captured the snake and stashed it away in the classroom snake pit. Then he firmly dismissed the students from the room. Supporting his swelling hand, he walked the two blocks from the college to the St. George Hospital only to find no rattlesnake serum was available.
Dr. McGregor eventually located serum in Cedar City, some 50 miles away, and it was agreed that someone would try to deliver it by car as soon as possible.
Hours passed, and the pain and swelling not only increased but began slowly moving up his arm closer to the elbow. Florence, Elden’s wife, kept a nervous vigil.
Late that night an old bootlegger arrived with the serum. Then Dr. McGregor faced the dilemma of how much of the serum to inject, for the vial was very large. After much concern, the doctor inserted the needle in Elden Beck’s arm and administered it all.
My grandfather, Dr. D. Elden Beck, lived!
The following year Dr. McGregor delivered, in the St. George hospital, the Beck’s baby daughter, Janet Ruth, my mother.

When each of my children turned eight, I took them on a backpacking trip. I’ll have to say they were great adventures that were full of triumphs and tragedies. Some of the triumphs include fording a stream with a backpack, climbing higher on the mountain than their brother, starting a fire, and just making it home alive. Some of the tragedies include skinned knees, muddy feet, overloaded backpacks, and unexpected snowstorms. As part of this tradition we documented the adventure with a picture wearing our backpacks in the front of our home. When my son James turned eight, he was very excited for the adventure. During the photo op in the front of our home he reached out and held my hand. To be honest, it melted my heart a bit. I thought that was sweet of him to do during the picture. However, during the entire hike that day and throughout the trip he frequently would hold my hand. Later that summer, I took James with his older brothers backpacking. To my surprise he continued to frequently hold my hand while hiking. At first his brothers didn’t say anything. Then, they teased him about holding my hand, but James ignored them. Finally, one of his brothers asked him why he held my hand during the hike. I will always remember his profound eight-year-old response. Without hesitation and unapologetically James said, “Because it makes me go faster.” He was right. It did make him go faster. As we hiked, I could support him, guide him, pull him along a bit and even steady him if he was a little off balance.

The sound of dogs yipping, howling, and barking fills the crisp air. Their harnesses tug back and forth as some dogs excitedly jump in place. People line the sides of the snow-covered trail, craning their necks to get a view of the mushers (dogsled drivers) and teams. The announcer on the sideline yells out a name—“Spencer!”—as a 16-year-old boy in a giant parka steps onto his dog sled.
Finally, the timekeeper gives a countdown. Three, two, one … and then all barking and howling stops.
“The instant we take off, the dogs go dead silent,” says Spencer. “All you hear is them breathing and their paws hitting the snow. Everyone else fades away, and it’s just this tunnel vision of focus.”
Spencer is used to this kind of focus. He’s been a musher (dogsled driver) for the past six years, and he knows that keeping focused and managing his adrenaline is essential, no matter how exhausted he feels.
Often, Spencer and his dogs will run 200–to–400–mile dogsled races that last three to four days. During those races, he and the dogs have to run day and night in freezing temperatures, stopping only three times to down some food and fit in two or three hours of sleep.
Spencer has had to stay awake for three days straight. He even got hypothermia once. So, if it’s so difficult, why does he keep coming back to dogsledding again and again? Well, part of it is because of his skinny leg.
Photographs courtesy of Suzette Bruggeman
For Spencer, dogsledding came about in an unexpected way. “I was born with a birth defect in my left leg that causes the veins in my leg to be atrophied, so not enough blood goes to that leg,” he explains. “There’s not a lot of growth and muscle mass, so my left leg is shorter and skinnier than the right.”
Growing up, he could walk and run, but some things were still difficult for him. “I grew up in a family and community of athletes. My two older brothers, Chase and Brandon, are both big football players, which led me to want to pursue football too.”
However, after playing football for two years in elementary school, Spencer soon realized the other kids were just too fast and it was too difficult for him to keep up. “I was sad. I struggled because I felt like I couldn’t have something to work toward.”
Then one day as he was reading The Call of the Wild by Jack London, an idea popped into his mind—what about dogsledding? “I was fascinated by the idea of dogsledding. I was with my mom after school one day when I piped up and said, ‘We should start dogsledding!’ My mom stopped dead in her tracks and retorted, ‘You’ve been talking to your dad!’ It turned out that my dad had been thinking about getting a dogsled team too! It was destiny.”
Spencer’s family held a meeting and agreed that dogsledding would be the perfect sport for Spencer. He says, “I figured it would be good for me because it doesn’t involve a lot of leg strength and speed, but it does require endurance, both physically and mentally.”
Pulling everything together for a team took a lot of work, though. “My dad and I researched the sport and talked to several mushers who helped us get started,” Spencer says. “We got our Alaskan Huskies a few at a time until we had enough for two teams—one for me and one for my dad.” They affectionately named their team of dogs the “Skinny Leg Sled Dogs,” after Spencer’s skinny leg.
Spencer’s dad supports him and races with his team of dogs.
Of course, the work didn’t stop there. Spencer and his family now take care of 51 dogs at their home in Montana, USA, not to mention their other pets (two falcons, two cats, and some canaries).
Spencer works hard to take care of his dogs.
“We spend an hour each day feeding the dogs, giving them water, and scooping up poop,” Spencer says. “In the winter, we make 70 pounds of meat stew each day to feed them enough calories. We also do our own veterinary work, like vaccines and stitches. We train them for two to three hours every day during fall and winter. And during the winter weekends, we’ll run about 100 miles. Then, of course, all of that culminates in the races, which are a lot of work.”
Obviously, dogsledding is challenging and time-consuming. But Spencer says it has blessed his life in many ways, especially when it comes to his family. “Everything involved in dogsledding has taught me and my family to work hard. It has united us. It takes all of us to care for our dogs and run long races. My mom and my brothers are like my pit crew. They handle all the dogs during my races. And my dad and I work together to run it all.”
More than that, Spencer has realized why it is important for families to work hard. He says, “If you don’t put in the effort and nurture your relationships with your family members, you won’t be a real family—you’ll just passively be a family. You’ll miss out on the blessings of being a family.”
Spencer with his brothers, Brandon (middle) and Chase (right).
Dogsledding also gives Spencer the motivation to move forward and achieve more. “I’ve learned to push myself mentally and physically through bitter cold, darkness, fear, and sleep deprivation to achieve my goals. It’s given me the skills to stay alert and strong.”
Similarly, he thinks it’s important to learn how to endure spiritually in the gospel. “When the going gets tough, you’ve got to be tough. In dogsledding, you can’t stop trying or the dogs will stop trying, and then you won’t do as well. It’s the same in the gospel. To endure well, you must always be diligent by reading the scriptures, praying, and turning to family and Church leaders.”
Spencer also notes that progression and enduring well require effort. “You can’t just passively believe in the gospel. You have to work at it. All the best things in life come from work. To get a testimony, you have to show your dedication by doing things like praying and studying the scriptures. You have to show dedication in your calling and your family.” Though it may sound tiring, Spencer says, “Everything goes more smoothly with work.”
In the end, Spencer keeps coming back to dogsledding because he’s being strengthened—physically, intellectually, and spiritually. “Dogsledding is the coolest sport in the world. It has given me the motivation to achieve my goals. I have learned to push myself and be mentally engaged in what I do.”
And the remarkable thing is, Spencer is where he is today because of a supposed weakness. Who would have guessed a skinny leg would lead to training dogs and racing them hundreds of miles through the snow? “If it weren’t for my skinny leg, I wouldn’t be a musher. I think it was the Lord helping me turn my weakness into a strength [see Ether 12:27]. Not only has dogsledding made my body stronger, but because of my birth defect, I have developed a strong work ethic. The Lord has turned my weakness into something amazing.”

A single friend of ours who lives alone broke her shoulder and needed help. Word soon spread throughout her ward, and ward members brought dinners by the dozen so that she had to tell them to stop because her refrigerator was overflowing. One of them was a nearly blind sister who crossed a busy street with a hot dinner on a tray. Another sister volunteered to help clean her apartment. Seeing our friend’s reluctance, she countered, “How else can I show you that I love you?” Another sister who helped with grocery shopping saw the bright side of our friend’s accident as she pointed out, “This opportunity has brought us close to each other again!” These sisters all had the vision of the work the Savior had in mind for them to do.

In World War II, I had an experience aboard a United States naval vessel in the South Pacific that was a powerful example of the virtue of wise choices and the peril of making decisions that are immature or impetuous, or are made in the heat of emotion, or that go thoughtlessly along with the crowd.

The young man aboard my ship was obviously special. He was modest and able and promising, and it was a blessing to be with him on the few occasions when our particular duties during wartime made it possible to be together.

But circumstance dictated that much more of the time and attention of my young associate was spent with others with whom he worked intimately in the compressed life of a crew aboard a ship at sea. These associates had life-styles and a view of values that were far removed from those to which this choice lad was accustomed. Gradually, the circumstances and the daily pressures began to take their toll on a not yet fully stable young man.

One day in a far-off port, I observed him almost furtively preparing to go ashore in the company of some of those experienced individuals who were taking him into town for one of their “good times,” as they supposed. In the navy, these periods off duty were ironically called “liberty.”

I had a brief moment with him as he went over the gangway and tried to warn him that this adventure was perilous and that these men meant him no good. His furtiveness turned to defiance, and he plainly told me that he was a big boy now, able to make up his own mind, and that he would do as he chose.

The consequences of the decisions he made that day—and those that were made for him when, through their iniquitous “help,” he had lost the power to think for himself or govern his own behavior—were different than he ever intended or could imagine. In his immaturity, he rebelliously chose the beginning of a road without thinking where that road would lead him. The place at which he arrived in the next few hours was one which he would never in his right mind have chosen.

When he returned to the ship, overleave overseas in wartime, out of control, and in custody of the shore patrol, he became subject to severe discipline. I cannot forget his tearful anguish as he awaited his ordeal. He could not even remember anything of the most serious of the tragedies that had occurred to him. All he could recall was lifting a glass they pressed on him, not knowing that they had drugged the drink, and then all was blank. They had proceeded to take him on their rounds with them.

The charges against him, indelibly imprinted on his previously perfect service record, were heartbreaking. I won’t forget his tearful anguish as he said over and over, “What will I tell my mom? What will I tell my girl?”

He had time now—and the disposition to listen and to think. We read together the sweet counsel of the Lord concerning Christ’s atoning sacrifice and his mission of redemption and of forgiveness and mercy (see Alma 42).

I have never been able to refer to these powerful words without thinking about a clean young man of strong promise who followed bad counsel and bad example into tragedy, with compromise to conscience and with heartbreak to himself and to those who loved him. We cannot with impunity follow the example or heed the counsels of unwisdom or unrighteousness, or of ignorance or immaturity or ego or greed or bravado.

In Mendoza, Argentina, we attended a seminary graduation. In the class was a young man who had great difficulty climbing ordinary steps. As the class marched in, two strong young classmates gracefully lifted him up the steps. We watched during and after the proceedings, and it became apparent that the whole class was afflicted with a marvelous kind of blindness. They could not see that he was different. They saw a classmate, a friend. In them the works of God were being manifest. While there was no physical transformation in the boy or in his classmates, they were serving like angels, soothing a spirit locked in a deformed body awaiting that time when it would be everlastingly made perfect.

A year ago I went with President Kimball back to his home in Arizona. And we visited the home where he grew up as a little boy. We climbed the winding stairs up to a bare room. And there the little boy, before he was a deacon, read the Bible by lamplight. We looked out the window from that upstairs room, and we saw the barns out in back where the cows had been. He used to milk nine cows every morning and night, the old-fashioned way. And as he milked the cows he learned the Articles of Faith, he learned the hymns, and he learned the Ten Commandments. He wrote them down on a little card and put them on the ground where he could look as he milked the cows.

And as he did these things, he decided to make up his mind. He was growing up, and he knew there were a lot of things that were good and a lot that were bad. He decided that when someone offered him a cigarette, he would say no. If someone offered him tea or coffee, he would say no. If they suggested that he be immoral, he would say no; to lie or to cheat, he would say no. He made up his mind when he was a little boy, before he was a deacon. He would do as his mother had taught him. He would keep the commandments.

And so as he grew older and the boys all came around and said, “Spencer, will you have a cigarette? Will you have a drink of whiskey? Will you have some coffee?” he didn’t have to stop to think. He didn’t worry about hurting their feelings. He had made up his mind just once to say no, and after that it was easy always to say no to the bad things. And that is how he has lived his life all these years.