Gospel Story Finder

Back in New York, Oliver’s friend David Whitmer was eager to learn more about Joseph’s work. Though David lived in Fayette, about 30 miles (48 km) from Manchester, he and Oliver had become friends while Oliver was teaching school and living with the Smiths. They often talked about the gold plates, and when Oliver moved to Harmony, he promised to write David about the translation.
Letters started arriving a short time later. Oliver wrote that Joseph knew details about his life that no one could have known except by revelation from God. He described the Lord’s words to Joseph and the translation of the record. In one letter, Oliver shared a few lines of the translation, testifying of its truthfulness.
Another letter informed David that it was God’s will for him to bring his team and wagon to Harmony to help Joseph, Emma, and Oliver move to the Whitmer home in Fayette, where they would finish the translation.13 People in Harmony had become less welcoming to the Smiths. Some men had even threatened to attack them, and had it not been for the influence of Emma’s family, they might have been seriously hurt.14
David shared Oliver’s letters with his parents and siblings, who agreed to welcome Joseph, Emma, and Oliver into their home. The Whitmers were descendants of German-speaking settlers in the area and had a reputation for hard work and piety. Their farm was close enough to the Smith home for a visit but far enough away to keep thieves from disturbing them.15
David wanted to go to Harmony immediately, but his father reminded him that he had two days of heavy work to do before he could leave. It was planting season, and David needed to plow 20 acres and enrich the soil with plaster of paris to help their wheat grow. His father said he ought to pray first to learn if it was absolutely necessary to leave now.
David took his father’s advice, and as he prayed, he felt the Spirit tell him to finish his work at home before going to Harmony.
The next morning, David walked out to the fields and saw rows of dark furrows in ground that had been unplowed the evening before. Exploring the fields further, he saw that about six acres had been plowed overnight, and the plow was waiting for him in the last furrow, ready for him to finish the job.
David’s father was astonished when he learned what had happened. “There must be an overruling hand in this,” he said, “and I think you had better go down to Pennsylvania as soon as your plaster of paris is sown.”
David worked hard to plow the remaining fields and prepare the soil for a successful planting. When he finished, he hitched his wagon to a strong team of horses and set out for Harmony earlier than expected.16

After earning a degree in social work, Katelyn Ray, 27, from California, USA, couldn’t settle on a career path but felt drawn to humanitarian aid. She has seen God’s hand guiding her “every step of the way,” leading her to now be the program director for a non-profit organization dedicated to fighting global poverty.
Katelyn has worked with refugees in Greece and victims of abuse in Nepal, who, she explains, are “going through the worst moments of their life. Just being there with them, there’s not a lot I can do. I can’t change the governments or the policies, but the one thing I can do is to love them.” And no matter who she’s with, she sees how important it is for others to feel God’s love. “If I can be a vehicle for that, I’ll feel like I’ve done a pretty good job, that God’s happy with me.”
Her experiences help her see other people’s problems with a broader perspective. “As young adults, it’s easy to get caught up in our own issues,” she says. “We’re so focused on, ‘What’s my career?’ and ‘What am I doing for school?’ and ‘How am I going to find my eternal companion?’ Those are all good things, but if we could somehow look outside of ourselves, I think we’ll find what we really are searching for.”
“If we just remain close to the Spirit, God is going to guide and direct us, and then we’ll be able to do all the good we want to do,” Katelyn says. “I think everyone wants to do good, even if that’s just in your community or within your family. Every little thing, whether it’s uplifting a friend or being there for a family member, just having those small moments of knowing you did what God wanted you to do in that moment will make a powerful impact on your life and others.”

Dec. 1, 1853 I was walking on Nashua St. in Boston, Mass. I saw a man that seemed to be a stranger. I wanted to know if he was L. D. Saint. He said he was. I asked him where. Said he was from Utah, going to Europe on a mission. I asked to see his papers and presented my own and read his (Jesse B. Martin). The tears came into his eyes. I believe he had 3 cents cash. Brother Israel Evans came soon after. We helped to get the means to pay the passage to Europe on the ship Daniel Webster.

I love the Instant Messages. They’re incredibly relevant to my life. When I read the Instant Message “Dating Dilemma” in the October New Era, I felt I knew exactly what the author was talking about. I have been casually dating a really great guy from school for over a year, and lately I have felt that our relationship was getting a little too serious. I prayed about it and felt that we should just be friends. I finally told him this morning and was a little down the whole day because of it. Then I came home and saw this Instant Message reminding me that I am happiest when I follow the Lord’s will. Thank you, Tiffany Day, for writing about your experience.Leila Watts, Andover Ward, Anoka Minnesota Stake

Once while serving as a mission president in Kentucky, I was faced with a direct conflict on family activity and Church activity. The Kentucky Derby was soon to be held, and our family had looked forward to going for weeks. Three days before the big event, the schedule for the Lexington Stake conference was shifted one week forward, and the Saturday leadership meeting was now scheduled for Derby Day. As mission president, I was invited in a midweek phone call from the visiting general authority to be at those sessions.
In the conversation, I told the leader about my previous plan and asked him his opinion. He replied, “Sometimes we just have to choose.” And that is all he said.
What would you have done?
Church work often requires that fathers be away from home. But by setting proper priorities, planning, and delegating, a father can organize himself to be effective in church duties and to be home much more often than he would suppose.
Some fathers who spend undue amounts of time in church callings are proud of these long hours away from home and consider them a sign of dedication. Often it is dedication, but in some cases it is just a way of not going home. Some fathers feel more capable in activities away from home than they do with their families. We should examine ourselves to see if, under the guise of “dedication,” we’ve left to our wives the most important of all causes to which we should be dedicated—our families.
Some feel that if they devote many hours away from family to their church duties, the Lord will compensate by ensuring that all will be well at home. But fathers who are faithful in the Church can and sometimes do have critical problems at home, and one reason may be a lack of father-family experience.
On the other hand, a father who feels successful at home comes out of that home filled with the spirit of love. His heart has been warmed by the home fires of his own family, and he is then able to warm the hearts and souls of his brothers and sisters. A man who devotes sufficient time and energy to family activities and who likewise is dedicated to the Lord and building his Church receives the Spirit of the Lord. It is the Spirit and not endless hours at Church activities away-from-home which brings success in church work.
In my opinion, some Church planning and leadership meetings are far too long. I was once asked by a Church leader, “Are you as a leader punctual in conducting meetings?”
I said, “Yes, I always start meetings on time.”
He said, “But are you punctual?”
I answered again the same way, “We start on time.”
He asked me the same question again, and as I sat looking perplexed he said, “I know that you begin your meetings on time, but do you end them on time?” He added, “End the meeting at the appointed time and let people go home to their families. Those who neglect the appointed quitting time are as much in error as those who neglect the beginning time.”
Sometimes a father will excuse himself for not being home enough by saying, “It isn’t the quantity but the quality of time spent that matters.” There is some truth in this statement for some people, but we must not use it to soothe a conscience that tells us we are too much away from the family.
When I was called to be a mission president, I was fearful that at a most critical time in the lives of my eight children I might not have sufficient time to be a good father. I had determined that being a father was as important a call from the Lord as being a mission president. That meant that even though I would dedicate myself to the mission, I would have to double my dedication as a father.
With that in mind, one of my first important tasks was to tie a big rope to a high limb on the huge ash tree that grew in our front yard and make a swing. With the swing came instant neighborhood friends for our younger children.
A few months after our arrival, we attended a mission presidents’ seminar. Each president was asked what he felt was the best idea he had put into practice so far in his mission. When my turn came, I said, “The best thing I’ve done so far is to build a swing.” Everyone laughed. I described the swing and explained that my major goal was to be a good father and that the swing was my symbol of this priority. The leader sustained my action.
I’ve found that I allow more time for my family if I remind myself that playing with the children is church work. While I was mission president, I would often go to a beautiful amusement park with my family. I would just walk around the park with a smile on my face, holding hands with my children, eating candy.
Once in a while, the thought would enter my mind. “You’re the mission president. You’d better get back to the office.” But then I’d smile again and say to myself, “Well, I’m doing my church work here. I’m with my children and my wife. We’re having a fun day, and tonight I’ll be able to write in my journal that I did six hours of glorious church work today.” I’d eat a little more candy and let the children lead me wherever they wanted to go.
Church work with your family doesn’t mean you leave other church work undone. It merely means that you do both—and you can do both. Some days you can spend a whole day with the children. Other times it will have to be a ten-minute wrestle or one paper airplane constructed after the evening meal.
Some years ago I was serving as a bishop. At the same time I was working on a doctor’s degree at a university and working a full-time job. I was under some strain, fearing that because of my desire to succeed in so many areas I was really failing as a father.
One Sunday evening I stayed late at church to complete some work. As I walked into the chapel to turn off the lights before going home, I suddenly felt lonely. I felt that my back would not bear for another day the heavy burdens I was carrying.
I fell to my knees near the pulpit and cried to the Lord. I poured out the feelings of my soul to him and described in detail my seemingly insurmountable tasks. When I finished I remained kneeling. And then I heard the Spirit speak to me in my heart. The answer it gave me was all I needed. It said just three things: Go forward. Do your best. Love your family.
I arose a new man.
Since then, whenever specific conflicts have come up between my family and church work, I’ve remembered those words and followed the advice given me years ago in Kentucky by a great Church leader—“Sometimes you just have to choose.”
Perhaps the only mistake we really make is when we choose one way over the other all of the time.

Could any day have been more beautiful?” Emma asked her sister, Martha, as she wiggled her toes in the warm, white sand. The girls were supposed to follow their family’s five cows as they roamed the green hills during the day, making sure they didn’t wander off and get lost or hurt. But this afternoon the cows were grazing in their favorite pasture and showing no signs of moving. Emma and Martha became bored and gave in to the temptation of the nearby beach.
Now the sun was close to setting, and its bright rays made the blue ripples of water on the lake sparkle like jewels. The girls’ family had been among the first to settle on the shores of Bear Lake in northern Utah, and Emma thought that there probably wasn’t any prettier place in the world. Dark green hills surrounding the lake were overgrown with wild raspberry bushes. Emma sighed with happiness.
But six-year-old Martha was thinking of something other than the beauty of the scenery. “I’m starving!” she burst out. “Let’s go home for dinner.”
“All right,” Emma agreed. “I’m hungry, too. Besides, it’s going to get dark soon, and we’d better get the cows home.”
They ran up the hill toward the pasture where they had left the cows. There they were, still happily munching on the grass, just as the girls had left them. Emma shook her head and smiled. She couldn’t imagine any animal more dull than a cow. Martha broke a switch off a nearby tree and headed toward the cows. Emma was getting herself a branch, when she heard Martha shriek.
“Emma! Emma! One’s gone! There are only four! One’s gone!”
Sure enough, only four cows were visible: Belle, Katie, Brown Eyes, and Matilda. Where was Old Spot? The cow was about to calf—that must be why she had left the rest of the herd.
“Martha, Old Spot wandered off somewhere to have her calf!” Emma reasoned. “We have to find her—soon! If something goes wrong, both she and the calf might die. You look in that bunch of trees over there, and I’ll go up that hill.”
The girls ran in separate directions, each shouting Old Spot’s name as they looked in every cluster of bushes and behind every rock and tree. After a few minutes, they met back in the pasture. Evening was not far off.
Emma made a quick decision. “Martha, you take the other cows home. When you get there, ask the boys to come back and help me. I’m going to stay and look for Old Spot.”
Martha’s eyes widened. “All by yourself? But it’ll be dark soon!”
“I know, I know! But it’s my fault Old Spot’s lost. I just have to keep looking!” She shooed her little sister toward the remaining cows. “Now, get going!”
Emma had a sinking feeling in her stomach as she watched her little sister leave. She would never admit it to Martha, but she was afraid, very afraid. Not just for the cow, but because she had always been afraid of the dark. In fact, her earliest memory was of being told to go out to the ditch after dark and fill a pail of water. After only a few nervous steps into the night, the wind rustled some leaves at her feet and an animal cried from the woods, and she had run screaming back to the safety of the house. Fear of the dark had haunted her ever since.
She began looking for Old Spot again, telling herself that finding the cow was too important—this was no time to let her fear get the better of her. But as the light faded from the sky and even the shadows faded into the night, her heart beat faster and she began to feel a little sick. The slightest noise made her jump, and chills ran up and down her spine.
It seemed like she had been searching for hours. Where were the boys? She sat on a boulder and hugged her knees close to her chest, fighting back tears. Her small body began to tremble. Then Emma remembered. Her parents had taught her what to do if she was in trouble. Immediately she got down on her knees.
“Father in Heaven,” she prayed, “I’m sorry we left the cows all alone. I know it is my fault Old Spot’s lost, but I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. If it be Thy will, please help me to find Old Spot. Bless her that she will be all right. And please help me to be brave. Help us both get home safely. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Emma rose from her knees, feeling a little better. She took a big gulp, climbed down off the boulder and began looking for Old Spot once more. To her surprise, she felt a song hovering in the back of her mind, a hymn that she had learned recently in church. She hummed the melody while the words ran through her mind:
The Lord is my light; then why should I fear?
By day and by night his presence is near.*
Before she knew it, she was singing the words out loud. The longer she sang, the better she felt. Soon she no longer felt afraid at all. She knew that with the Lord’s help, she would find the cow and that they both would return home safely.
A few minutes later, Emma saw a long, deep ravine. She was frightened but knew that that was where she must look. She followed the winding gorge for what seemed like a very long time. Just as she was about to turn back, she heard a gentle lowing ahead of her. As she got closer, she could see Old Spot—and the cow was not alone! A newborn calf was wobbling about on shaky legs.
It was slow work driving the mother and baby out of the ravine. Old Spot was tired, and the calf was still very weak. Every once in a while, a coyote’s howl filled the air, seeming very close. Emma was tired and hungry, her bare feet cold and sore. The three of them still had a long walk ahead to reach home. Please, Heavenly Father, she prayed in her heart, just a little bit longer. Help me have the strength to get us home!
Finally the trio came out of the trees and onto the open hillside. Not far below them Emma saw a light. Her brothers had come to their rescue! She flew down the hill and threw herself into her big brother’s arms. “George, I found her! I found Old Spot and her baby!”
George looked down in surprise. “You did? All by yourself?”
“I was so scared, George. But I wasn’t alone. Heavenly Father helped me.”
George grinned. “Well, I’d rather be looking for twenty cows at midnight than face the scolding Ma’s going to give you for losing Old Spot in the first place!”
Emma smiled but didn’t answer. All she could think about was that Heavenly Father had answered her prayer. She and Old Spot and the calf were safe and headed home. And Emma knew that she never had to be alone.

From a young age, Elder Richard G. Scott had a desire to do what was right, even when faced with peer pressure. One summer during high school, he worked on an oyster boat off Long Island, New York, USA. His coworkers tried to get him to do things he knew were wrong. Because he consistently said no, he gained their respect. One night when one of them fell overboard, Richard was the only one who could save his crewmate—because he hadn’t gone partying like the others. He said, “Finally, when they understood I would not abandon my principles, we became friends. Then privately, one by one, they asked for help.”1
Richard was outgoing. He was elected high school class president, played the clarinet, and was drum major for the marching band. He did well in school and had many friends, but he felt lonely and lacked confidence. He realized later, after becoming active in the Church, “that those feelings need not have been part of my life if I had really understood the gospel.”2
By age 22, Richard was thinking about marriage and a career. But the woman he was dating, Jeanene Watkins, encouraged him to serve a mission. After praying about it, that’s exactly what he did. “That decision thoroughly changed my life and laid the foundation … for a marvelous experience in life together.”3
As a missionary in Uruguay.
Two weeks after he returned from his mission to Uruguay, they were sealed in the Manti Utah Temple.
His wedding day with Jeanene Watkins. July 16, 1953.

“Did you mow the lawn?”
Jeff huddled lower as he manipulated the joystick of his video game. Maybe if he ignored her, she would go away.
“I asked, did you mow the lawn?”
Jeff sighed. “No, Mom, I didn’t mow the lawn—OK?”
She ignored his sarcasm. “No, it isn’t OK. You need to turn off the video game now and get the lawn mowed.” She waited a few seconds, but Jeff didn’t take his eyes off the screen.
Suddenly the television clicked off.
“Hey!” Jeff griped. “What happened?” Then he saw his mom calmly slip the remote control into the laundry basket balanced on her hip.
Jeff grumbled as he stomped outside, dragged the mower out, started it up with a couple of angry yanks, and shoved it over the lawn. It took only about forty-five minutes, but he was still irritated when he finished.
“Satisfied?” he asked his mom, who was up to her elbows in bread dough. He jerked the refrigerator door open, looking for something cold to drink.
“Not really,” she replied. “Are you?”
Jeff stopped. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” she said, “the lawn’s mowed, but are you better for having mowed it? Are you satisfied with a job well done? Are you happy for having contributed to the family?”
“No!”
“Then you did it wrong,” she said and went back to kneading the dough.
Jeff returned to the television, but he couldn’t concentrate. His mother made no sense. The lawn was mowed, right? How could she say he had done it wrong?
Finally he couldn’t stand it any longer. He wandered into the kitchen. “So,” he asked, “how many ways are there to mow a lawn?”
“Not ways, really—more like reasons for doing it. Ask around,” she advised him. “Don’t ask people how they mow lawns, ask them why they do it.”
Jeff was happy to get out of the house. He wandered down the street, thinking. There could be only one reason people mowed lawns—because lawns grew and needed mowing and, in his case, because his mother made him do it. But he had the feeling his mother had something else in mind.
Down the block, Jeff saw his friend Chris whistling as he strode along. When he saw Jeff, he hollered, “I’m on my way to the store. Come on.”
Chris pulled a ten-dollar bill out of his pocket and waved it under Jeff’s nose. “The first of many, Jeff-o,” he chortled. “My lawn-mowing business is going to rake in the dough! I’ll be rich, rich, rich! Money may not grow on trees, but it does grow in lawns!”
Jeff laughed, then paused. “So why, exactly, do you mow lawns?”
Chris looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “For the money, of course. That’s the only good reason I can think of!”
They walked on, Chris bragging about the things he’d buy before summer was over. Jeff, however, was thinking. So far he’d found two reasons to mow a lawn: fear of punishment and the promise of a reward.
They were almost to the store when they heard an old mower ka-chunking through grass. As they rounded the corner, they saw Daniel finishing up the last bit of his front lawn.
“Want to go to the store with us?” Chris asked.
“Can’t,” Daniel panted. “I still have to mow the back lawn.”
Jeff grabbed the opportunity. “So why are you mowing the lawn?”
“Because grass grows.” Daniel said it very slowly, like he was answering a foolish question.
Jeff turned red. “No, I mean, do you get paid for mowing it? Or will something happen to you if you don’t mow it?”
Daniel just shrugged his shoulders. “Everyone in my family has chores, and today mine is mowing the lawn. Why fight it? I just want to get it out of the way so that I can do more interesting stuff.”
Jeff and Chris nodded in understanding, then headed on down the road.
So that’s what Mom meant, Jeff thought. You can do something because you’re afraid of being punished, or because you’ll get rewarded, or because there’s no point in arguing about it—you might as well just get it done.
Certain that he had found the answer his mother wanted, Jeff poked Chris in the ribs, and they raced each other to the store.
They were slowly heading back when they met Daniel pushing his mower down the street.
“Where are you going with the mower?” Jeff asked.
“The Merrill’s place.”
“Don’t you know that Brother Merrill’s in the hospital?” Jeff asked. “He fell off the roof last week when he was repairing shingles.”
“Yeah,” Chris added. “There’s nobody there. His wife spends every day at the hospital.”
“True,” Daniel said, pushing past them, “but the grass still grows.” He hurried on his way as his two friends stared after him.
“Uh, I have to be getting home now,” Jeff said.
Chris nodded. “Me, too. See you later.”
They did see each other later—about fifteen minutes later—when they both arrived at the Merrills’ home, pushing their lawn mowers.
Daniel was glad to see them. “I’ll do the front lawn if you guys handle the side and back. We can be out of here before Sister Merrill gets home. It will be a surprise.”
It was a hot day, and the grass was tall from more than a week of neglect. When they finished, the lawn looked beautiful. Jeff now knew what his mother had meant about satisfaction. The boys didn’t say much. They just grinned as they pushed their mowers in a line down the sidewalk, each turning with military precision when he reached his own street.
Jeff put the mower away and went inside. The smell of fresh-baked bread filled the air, and a pile of clean, neatly folded laundry was on his bed. He wandered into the kitchen where dinner was cooking and sat down at the counter, elbowing aside plates and silverware that were ready to be set out.
His mother smiled. “Where have you been?”
Jeff grinned back. “Turns out that there are four reasons to mow a lawn. You can do it because you’re afraid you’ll be punished if you don’t. You can do it because you’ll be rewarded if you do. Or you can do it because you have to and it’s easier to just do it than to complain.”
His mother nodded. “You said there were four reasons,” she prompted.
“Yeah.” Jeff looked down, then met his mother’s eyes. “I guess the last one is really the best one,” he admitted. “There’s nothing really wrong with the other reasons for mowing a lawn, but you only get that satisfaction you talked about if you do it because it’s the right thing to do—because it’s an act of service.”
His mother nodded. “And it isn’t true just for mowing lawns,” she said, giving him a hug. She turned to give the spaghetti sauce another stir. “We’ll eat when your dad gets home. Jeff, could you …”
She turned around and saw that he was gone—along with the plates and silverware. Then she heard a shout from the dining room.
“Hey, Mom, where did you hide the napkins?”

While I was serving as an Area Seventy, one of the stakes in my coordinating council participated in a large temple excursion. The temple the members attended is small, and unfortunately there were several members who, despite making the long 12-hour journey, were not able to enter the temple because it had exceeded the daily capacity.

A few days after this trip, I visited this stake and asked the president if I could talk with some of the members who were unable to attend the temple that day. One of the brothers I visited told me: “Elder, do not worry. I was at the house of the Lord. I sat on a bench in the garden and pondered in my mind the ordinances. Then I was given the opportunity to enter, but instead I allowed another brother, who had come to the temple for the first time to be sealed to his wife, to take my place. They then had the opportunity to attend two sessions that day. The Lord knows me, and He has blessed me, and we are fine.”

Finally, let me tell you about a woman I have never met but whom I love dearly because she was true to her covenants. My great-great-grandmother Charlotte Gailey Clark was one of the last 295 people to receive their covenants in the Nauvoo Temple prior to the beginning of the great exodus west. The temple had been closed since the Saints were being forced to leave, but all those who were worthy had not yet had an opportunity to receive their endowments. My great-great-grandmother and her husband would be leading their family west, and she wanted her covenants with her before she set out on that journey. I have thought about her so often these past few months. I someday want to say to her, “Grandma, thank you for keeping your covenants. I am so blessed to be your granddaughter. Your faithfulness has blessed me and my family—and will continue to bless all of us throughout the generations.” And sisters, our children and grandchildren will one day be able to say the same to us, and of us. One day they will thank us for keeping this “bag” of covenants with us and using them to bless the lives of our families.

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.”

I want to thank Dan Lindstrom whose fireside talk “My Own Movie” was printed in the April 1979 New Era. When I read it, I was having trouble with the missionary work. In our apartment was a stack of old New Eras, and I found myself reading them from cover to cover. I would rise each day at 5:00 A.M. just to read them. One day I read the article by Brother Lindstrom, and it sank home. I started to question myself, and found I needed some great improvement. Since then I have been very careful in what I do and say. I have given myself to the work, and success is finally coming my way.
Elder Bryan CookFlorida Ft. Lauderdale Mission

Back in California Gary talked a friend, John Ryan, into driving up with him to enroll at BYU. They were just unpacking their suitcases after arriving at BYU when a knock came at the door. The 6-foot-2-inch, 195-pound Cougar quarterback ambled over and opened the door.
“Two guys about my age were standing outside,” Gary recalls. “They said they were missionaries and asked if we’d like to learn about the church.
“‘What church?’ I asked, not yet knowing that ‘the church’ meant THE Church.
“‘The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,’ they chorused.
“‘The Mormon Church,’ one of them added helpfully.
“The fact was that John and I didn’t want to learn about the Mormon Church. We wanted to unpack, get cleaned up, and go eat.
“Less than a week later, two more guys stood outside our door wearing the happiest faces I’ve ever seen. ‘Hi!’ they grinned. ‘We’re your home teachers!’
“‘Oh yeah?’ I said quizzically, and before I knew it, they were inside the door. These two were a lot like the first two. They asked about the same questions and got the same answer, ‘No.’
“I guess I was a stubborn case. But, you know, I wasn’t some lost, lonely person searching for a better world. I’d been brought up in the most wonderful home a person could hope for. I’d had lots of opportunities, friends, a good life—and I didn’t want to change anything.
“‘That’s okay.’ They smiled with the same down-to-earth friendliness that had first attracted me to BYU. When they left, they said, ‘Now, if you ever need any help, let us know.’
“‘Sure. Thanks,’ I said, but it didn’t seem quite enough. ‘And … uh … if you ever need help, just let me know.’”
Meanwhile Gary focused his attention on football. His wrist, sprained during a preseason scrimmage, kept him from starting the first game of his junior year. Then someone else earned the starting quarterback position, and for the first time in his life, Gary, fit and ready, sat on the bench. That was a discouraging time for him, but he quietly worked, watched, and waited for his chance to play. Nearly halfway through the season, the chance came.
“We were behind by seven, with one minute and three seconds left to play, 70 yards to go, and a 40-mile-an-hour wind in our faces,” Gary recalls. “But things clicked, and we almost won that game. We were on the three-yard line when time ran out.”
The game had ended, but the Sheide era at BYU had begun. In less than two seasons Gary broke records that it had taken other WAC athletes three years to set. During his brief career Gary threw 595 times and completed 358 passes for 60.3 percent, 4,524 yards, and 45 touchdown passes. He set a conference record for completed passes (32) and touchdown passes (6) in one game. He also set a WAC record for completion percentage. United Press International twice named him National Back of the Week, and the Associated Press named him National Player of the Week. He was on the All-WAC first team, was the United Press Most Valuable Player in the WAC, and was eighth in the Heisman Trophy voting. He was second in the nation in passing for two years running. He led BYU to a Western Athletic Conference championship and the right to play in the nationally televised Fiesta Bowl.
Coach LaVell Edwards says of Gary’s success, “He has one of the strongest arms I’ve seen in a long time, but even more important, he has a sense of timing. He knows when to release the ball, when to really throw it hard, and when to ease up and drop it over the linebacker’s head. He has a quick release, and he can throw a lot of different kinds of passes. He can throw long, or he can throw intermediate or short. He can lay it out soft or he can throw it hard, and he always knows which to do.”
Sportswriters credited Sheide with leading the BYU Cougars to their first bowl game ever, but Gary tells it differently: “We had some great coaches. LaVell Edwards was like a father to me. But you’d have to have been in our Tuesday night meetings to understand what made champions of a team that lost its first three games. The coaches would talk to us, and then they’d leave. And there was just the team. We’d sit there for a while, and any one of us could stand up and say whatever he wanted. Often you’d hear something like, ‘I’m so grateful to know each of you. And you mean so much to me that I’m going to do all I can out there for you.’ ‘I’m so glad to be part of this team, I’m going to give it all my strength and effort.’ ‘Somehow, I’m going to see that you get the extra seconds that might make the difference.’ ‘I’m going to be in there playing 150 percent.’
“You know,” says Gary, “those guys had a couple of important things going for them—character and commitment. There were times in those meetings when you wanted to cry, and you knew somehow you’d do better than your best.”
Gary has three suggestions for aspiring quarterbacks:
1. Learn to concentrate. You can’t be thinking about girls or schoolwork when you’re on the playing field.
2. Keep calm.
3. Don’t dwell on your mistakes or the mistakes of your teammates. You have to be able to forgive yourself and others.
As Gary grew in football know-how, he was undergoing a spiritual transformation also. A few months after turning away the two missionaries, he happened to be in Salt Lake City, and curiosity drew him onto Temple Square just as a tour was about to begin at the Seagull Monument. “I decided to take a quick, crash course in Mormonism, find out what it was all about, and put the matter to rest,” Gary admits. “But it didn’t happen that way. Afterward, my head buzzed with questions, new ideas, and names like Moroni, Cumorah, Joseph Smith. I left there puzzled and confused, with the weight of seven dispensations on my shoulders.
“But no way was I going to ask for formal lessons. So I might not have been converted had it not been for friends who knew the gospel. ‘How come this is so?’ I’d ask on the spur of the moment. ‘Well, it’s because of that,’ they’d answer. ‘But why did that happen?’ I’d challenge. ‘Well, because of this,’ they’d explain. And so it went. Dozens of casual conversations over a year’s time. And finally, the last week of school, I went back to Temple Square. This time a friend stood at my elbow, answering my questions. I signed up for the missionaries right there at Temple Square and then went home for the summer.
“I thought it would take three weeks or so to process my name, but a couple of days after I got home, I looked out the window and saw two guys coming up the walk. As I opened the door I said, ‘Yeah, I know, you’re Mormon missionaries. Come in.’
“We were on the third lesson when my older brother Gregg decided to join the group, so we started over. Lots of times as many as six of my friends would come to listen. We were real doubters. We’d ask every possible question, and the missionaries would answer us out of the scriptures.
“Before I knew it, I was converted. But I kept praying night and day for a special manifestation. Others knew for sure that the Church was true, and before I would agree to be baptized, I had to know too. So I kept praying and studying and praying some more.
“And then one day things focused, and that’s a jubilant feeling. I thought: Gary, how come you keep praying over and over, ‘Lord, please tell me if the Church is true.’ Because look, Gary, you know the Church is true, and you know that you know. It’s like you’ve been standing out in the rain. And you see the water falling down and watch it making everything green and hear it patter on the pavement and feel the cool, wet rain in your face and know you’re getting drenched through and through by the sure, steady rain, but you look up and say, ‘Lord, is it raining—please, I’ve got to know for sure.’ The Church is true, Gary. What are you waiting for, a bolt of lightning?”
On July 13, 1974, Gary and Gregg were baptized. It caused quite a stir in Antioch.
“How come you did that, Gary?” his friends would ask.
“Because I know the Mormon Church is God’s church,” he would reply. “I’ve studied and prayed about it. And I know. And if you’ll study and pray, you can know too.”
“Uh … sure, Gary, if you say so.”
There was never any argument. Over the years Gary and Gregg Sheide had earned the respect of a wide circle of friends. They’d been leaders, and if they said Mormonism was true, there must be something to it.
Some five months later, on a blustery December day at the Sun Devil Stadium in Tempe, Arizona, Gary stood bareheaded as the national anthem was played and savored the finest moment of his football career. The chance to play in a bowl game was a dream come true, and he could feel in his bones that the Cougars would win. The stadium was packed, banners waved, bands played, and he felt good. The whole team felt good. They all knew there were pro scouts in the stands, and they all knew that the young man they had come to see had a number 12 on his back.
A few minutes into the ball game, an elderly man picked up his cane and slowly walked out. As he left the stadium he was heard to say “I paid 20 dollars to see this game, and I didn’t even care who won or lost. I just came to see that fine young man play football. And now I’m going home.”
Others sat through the game in shocked disappointment. After 12 minutes of play, Gary was helped from the field with a separated shoulder. He would not be able to return to the game, nor would he play in the Hawaiian Hula Bowl to which he’d been invited.
The last time the Cougar quarterback left the football field, his fans did not cheer or applaud. They watched in disbelief. Although the pro scouts didn’t get to see much of Gary that day, his record was so impressive that the Cincinnati Bengals later made him their third-round draft choice. That day in the Fiesta Bowl, however, turned into one of gloom for Gary and the Cougars.
“I’d be less than honest if I didn’t admit I was as discouraged as a person could be when I walked off that field,” Gary says. “My hopes were crunched. Down in the locker room, the doctor examined my injured shoulder. Then I pulled on my sweatshirt and listened—with another kind of hurt—as BYU lost the game. All the while I was asking the question that we all ask at one time or another: Why?
“But the old cliché is true. Time is a great healer. My shoulder is mended. BYU is headed for another great football season. And I’m looking forward to playing pro ball.
“I guess you can always draw a lesson out of experiences like the one I had at the Fiesta Bowl. Sometimes, just when things are looking good for us, we get knocked down. And we get up stunned and hurt and angry. Now at those times we can sit and sulk and hold our wound for awhile, and most of us do, but the only way we can really get back on our feet is to get down on our knees and try to sort out what the important things in life are.”
Gary Sheide has some definite ideas about what’s important. “Before I was a member of the Church, I’d never heard about eternal marriage,” he says softly. “I love to think that families can be together in heaven. That makes our family even more important in this life. I want to be married in the temple to a girl who will put the Lord and her family first—the way my mother did.
“I hope I’m always able to have a good job that will provide enough money so my wife won’t have to work outside the home. I want to be happy in my work—pro ball or coaching or whatever—but more important, I want to give my time to my wife and my children the way my dad did. I want to teach my children how to throw a ball and love one another and enjoy life.”
That’s what Gary Sheide wants to do. And the folks who know him best won’t be a bit surprised if that’s exactly what he does.

George T. Benson was known for his industry and honesty. In addition to being a leading citizen in the community, he served in both the bishopric and the stake presidency. “Father was always very prompt,” President Benson recalls. “I have never known him to be late for a meeting. He would set a time when the buggy was to leave the farm and drive the mile and a half to church. Sometimes, if there was a late one, he would start the team up slowly at the appointed time, and more than once the children who were not quite ready would have to run to catch the buggy.”

One evening as I conversed with President Harold B. Lee, I said to him, “President Lee, you seem different someway tonight.” He smiled and said, “You know what it is, don’t you?” I shook my head and said I really didn’t know what it was. Then he shared with me his remarkable experience saying:

“After I became the President of the Church, I thought a great deal about what the Lord wanted me to do. One night, while I was sleeping, President McKay came to me in a dream. He pointed his finger and looked at me with those piercing eyes of his as only President McKay could do, and he said, ‘If you would serve the Lord, you must love and serve his children.’ I awakened with a compelling desire to learn all I could about love that I might serve the Lord.”

He said, “After I had read everything the scriptures had to say about love, I began to put into practice all that I had gleaned from my study. That’s what you can feel. It is my newfound ability to truly love and serve his children.”

I watched President Lee even a little more closely that night and noted that not one person who came to the table to shake his hand left without receiving a special word of encouragement or an extra question that indicated the concern of the prophet. No one went away without seeing his smile or hearing his words of love.

When Mamie was 14, a little sister was born at the ranch. Her father, by now stake president, had gone to general conference in Salt Lake City. Before leaving, however, he had brought from Kanab a midwife, Macey Stewart, who promised she would stay till his return, or at least till the mother was able to be up and around. “When the baby was a week old,” wrote Mamie, the midwife got homesick and “regardless of her promise to Father that she would stay, she left Mother in bed with me to care for her and the baby, besides all the housework, washing, etc., for the family and hired men. Talk about responsibility for a 14-year-old!” she concluded.

By late afternoon the next day, 30 backpacks formed a long, brightly colored line that moved slowly up toward the clouds. We were with Varsity Scouts from the South Cottonwood Third Ward, Salt Lake Cottonwood Stake, and Explorers from the Granger 22nd Ward, Salt Lake Granger Central Stake. We were hiking in the Wind River Mountains, which are close to the Tetons and to the camp.
The weight of the packs and the slipping rocks underfoot kept heads bent toward the trail. Sweat streamed down everyone’s face. All of us walked one step at a time on a path that had started steep and was getting even steeper.
“We’re getting high enough to meet the angel Gabriel,” Robert Beeler joked. The rest of the group didn’t do much talking. Behind lay the valley floor, where we had started that morning. It seemed incredibly distant. But even though everyone was exhausted, the guides kept us all moving.
“There wasn’t just one big push,” Ron Wood remembered later. “The whole day was the push. A lot of us wondered if we were ever going to make it.”
“My pack was way too heavy,” Steven Aslami admitted. “So the other guys divided up some of my things and carried them for me. Next time,” he laughed, “I’ll leave my stereo home.”
Rest stops were kept short, just long enough for everyone to catch their breath and for our guides, Richard Jones and Greg Longson, to check maps. Both Richard and Greg are returned missionaries. Like Bob Burk, they had come to the base as young Scouts. Like Bob, they had now returned for the summer to share what they’d learned.
“How much farther do we have to go?” Kelly Crowther asked.
“Not too far.” The guides had been saying the same thing since the first hour.
The trail continued into the alpine zone, the highest region of the wilderness. A red-tailed hawk drifted in the warm evening air. The mountain was beautiful, but later, when asked about the scenery on the first part of the hike, Doug Tolman summed up what most of us had experienced: “Scenery? I don’t know. All I saw were my feet.”
The incline became less steep, dropped down, and finally ended at Coyote Lake. It was evening, and the sun was going down. Fish were turning in the water. We took off our packs, drank from an icy stream, and built our campfires. As a precaution against marauding bears, we hung our food in trees. Soon the rich aroma of stew mixed with the fragrance of mountain air. There was a relaxed feeling of accomplishment. All of us felt it, the kind of feeling that comes only when you’ve worked hard for something. Sleep came easily that night.

During the January 2017 worldwide devotional for young adults, I challenged those watching to increase their testimony of the Savior by taking time each week to:
Study everything Jesus said and did as recorded in the Old Testament.
Study His laws as recorded in the New Testament.
Study His doctrine as recorded in the Book of Mormon.
Study His words as recorded in the Doctrine and Covenants.
I promised those listening that if they would proceed to learn all they can about Jesus Christ, their love for Him and for God’s laws would grow beyond what they could currently imagine.
What I didn’t mention during this address was that I knew this promise was true because I was in the midst of completing this very same assignment myself for the first time.
On December 1, 2016, I obtained a new set of scriptures and proceeded to begin the same assignment that I would later extend to young adults in January. When I finished the assignment six weeks later, I had looked up and marked more than 2,200 citations from the four books of scripture.1
For me, to be able to accomplish this assignment was just thrilling!
Something I found to be most insightful was that the Savior was telling us about Himself through these various periods of time—Old Testament, New Testament, the Restoration period, and our day. In all books of scripture, the story is the same and the Storyteller is the same.
I have devoted much of my 93 years to learning about the Savior, but rare are the occasions when I have been able to learn as much as I did over this six-week study period. In fact, I learned so much about Him from this study that I am planning to share much of it in other upcoming addresses that I am currently preparing.2
Upon beginning this assignment, I didn’t expect that this study would help me to receive a new testimony of the divinity of the work of Joseph Smith—but it did! The revelations recorded by Joseph Smith and the insights found in the Bible are amazingly consistent. It was so enlightening for me to see this in my study.
Joseph Smith wouldn’t have possibly had time to correlate and cross-reference with the Bible at the rapid rate at which he was translating the Book of Mormon—but it’s all here!
So not only do I now have a greater testimony of the Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, but I also have a reaffirmation of my absolute conviction that the system Joseph Smith had for translating the Book of Mormon was a gift from God.
Now, I realize some of you are probably thinking to yourselves that you couldn’t possibly have time to complete an assignment like this.
I know how you feel. I thought the same thing of myself—that there’s no way I can have time to do all of this. I needed to remind myself that a comment like this is not a faith-promoted comment. A faith-promoted comment would be “I know I don’t have time for this, but I’m going to make time for it. And I’ll fulfill it with what time I have.”
Each of us who takes this challenge will finish in our own time frames. For me, much of the joy of this came from getting it all done in just six weeks. This intense study over a relatively short period of time allowed me to appreciate the complementary nature of the learnings to be found in the Old Testament, the Book of Mormon, the New Testament, and the Doctrine and Covenants.
To those of you who feel you don’t have time, if you will make a sacrifice, you will be well rewarded and very, very grateful for the change of perspective, increased knowledge, and improved depth of your conversion. I know this is true because I have seen the same rewards in my own life.
As I mentioned at the devotional, in a coming day, you will present yourself before the Savior. You will be overwhelmed to the point of tears to be in His holy presence. You will struggle to find words to thank Him for paying for your sins, for forgiving you of any unkindness toward others, for healing you from the injuries and injustices of this life.
You will thank Him for strengthening you to do the impossible, for turning your weaknesses into strengths, and for making it possible for you to live with Him and your family forever. His identity, His Atonement, and His attributes will become personal and real to you.
But you don’t have to wait until then. Choose to be one of His true disciples now. Be one who truly loves Him, who truly wants to serve and lead as He did. I promise you that if you will study His words, your ability to be more like Him will increase. I know this is true.

One day when I was young, my father happened upon a little lost lamb in the desert. The lamb’s flock had moved on, and if we had left him, the coyotes might have found him. If he didn’t die because of the coyotes, he would have starved. So my father brought him home and gave him to me to care for.
I named the little lamb Nigh; I’m not sure why. I fed him with a bottle, and soon he grew strong and healthy. He and I became great friends, and I could just call him and he would come running. We liked to play on the grass together. Sometimes I would lie down with my head on his fleece and gaze up at the clouds floating by in the blue sky overhead.
One night there came a terrible storm. I usually locked up Nigh in the barn each night, but that night I forgot to do it until after I had gone to bed. As I lay there, I could hear the fierce wind howling and I could hear my little lamb bleating, frightened and fearful. But I just didn’t want to leave that warm, comfortable bed to take care of him.
The next morning I awoke to find that I was not the only one who had heard my lamb bleating. Some dogs had heard him and had killed him. My heart was broken. My father looked at me with disappointment written on his face. “Son,” he said, “couldn’t I trust you to take care of just one lamb?”
The lesson I learned that day was one I will never forget. I resolved that when a lamb needed to be cared for or when anyone needed my help, I would respond right away rather than wait for a more “convenient” time.

One of our goals as a family is to save enough money to make a down payment on our own home. Without that goal, I might waste my weekends watching television, waiting for financial opportunities to come to me.
As a driver for a mining company in northern Chile, I work four days away from home at the mines and then have three days off—Saturday through Monday. To supplement our income and savings toward a home, we decided to start selling eggs. Our plan was to take orders from friends, neighbors, and Church members; buy about 1,000 eggs each week from a wholesaler; and then pick up and deliver the eggs on Saturdays and Mondays.
My wife, Laura, and I decided we would bring our two children with us on deliveries and enjoy the time together. As we were on our way to buy our first batch of eggs, however, disaster struck. One of our children, playing with a small metal pencil sharpener, tossed the sharpener and it landed squarely in the empty cigarette lighter receptacle. Sparks flew, and our van lost all electrical power, coming to a sudden stop right in the middle of a highway. We had blown a fuse.
As we sat there holding up traffic and wondering what to do, we became so frustrated that we felt like crying. But at that moment, I remembered that the Lord has promised to lift us and help us if we put our trust in Him. A calmness came over me. I realized I couldn’t just sit there complaining. We had a problem, and with God’s help, we would solve it.
Laura and I turned to each other and said, “We have to show faith.” We said a prayer and dried our tears. Then, with Laura steering, I got out to push the car. Several people jumped out of their cars and helped me.
We pushed the car about 200 meters before finding a safe place off the highway to park. As the car rolled to a stop, I noticed that we had parked right in front of a car stereo shop.
I located the blown fuse, walked inside the shop, and asked, “Do you have one of these?”
The clerk replied, “Of course.”
I bought a fuse and put it in place, the car started right up, and off we went. The egg wholesaler was just about to close when we pulled up. We bought our eggs and made our deliveries.
When we have challenges, we need to remember to ask our Heavenly Father for help. I know He will answer us as we move forward and show our faith in Him.