Gospel Story Finder

Shortly after World War II, I was visiting in Washington, D.C., and happened to pick up a New York newspaper. On the front page in a small box was reported an interview with a Russian historian who for a year had been visiting the United States and was about to return to his native land. I have forgotten the name of this historian, but I have not forgotten one of the questions reported to have been asked of him. The reporter said, “You have been in America for a year, studying our history and our people. Tell me, which of all the Americans do you consider the greatest?”
The Russian historian answered, “You have had only one great American—Joseph Smith, the Mormon Prophet.”
Giving a reason for his statement he said, “There is only one American who has advocated a way of life and has brought forth ideas, which, if followed, would change the whole society of the world.”
Delving into the life and teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith reveals a wealth of ideas so revolutionary that they could, if adopted, change the course of human history.
We don’t recognize how different from his times Joseph Smith was in his views:
He gave a new perspective of God, a restoration if you will, but a perspective at variance with that which prevailed. He proclaimed our Father to be a personal god, with a body—an individual who could speak and would speak to man—a person who would hear and answer prayers.
He brought forth new evidence that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, a resurrected being who had not only appeared in our day but had reestablished his church and was directing it.
He elevated man to a new position as the literal son of God and a god in embryo, who not only lived before appearing in the flesh but will live again after death and can, as a possibility, become a god.
He stated man to be the same species as God.
He declared that the whole purpose for the creation of this earth is for the benefit and eternal life of man—that our purpose in living is that we might have joy.
He taught that salvation will be universal, that all mankind will rise from the grave and can be forgiven of their sins upon repentance.
He announced that all the billions who have died might yet hear the gospel of Jesus Christ and, accepting it, have performed for them upon the earth all those necessary ordinances that lead to salvation.
These and countless other ideas are revolutionary. They are ideas that we still proclaim to the world and that, if accepted, could change the faith of all men.
Joseph Smith had some qualities that enabled God to use him and that would enable God to use you and me if we possessed them. For greatness is not handed to man upon a platter, and no individual can be an instrument in God’s hands except he possess the qualities that are inherent in leadership.
Intelligence
First is the quality of intelligence. Without opportunity for formal schooling, the Prophet was interested in almost every subject. In 1836 he was instrumental in bringing to the city of Kirtland, Ohio, where the Church was quartered, a Professor Seixas, a Hebrew scholar. The Prophet believed that the Church leaders should be familiar with the language. But how much Hebrew could you learn in 14 weeks, attending two or three nights a week? Only two students could read Hebrew with any degree of fluency afterward—Joseph Smith and Orson Pratt. The Prophet also appears to be the only one who publicly discussed various passages in the Bible from the Hebrew text.
Frequently we determine the intelligence of an individual by whether or not the views expressed in his lifetime withstand criticism in the years that follow. Some of the political views of the Prophet Joseph are interesting to review today:
He advocated a federal banking system—a type of reserve system that was not established in this country until 1917.
He urged Congress to place locks in the Mississippi River for the benefit of navigation. He didn’t live to see his hope fulfilled, but today the Keokuk Dam and locks, which permit large vessels to move on the river, have been built at the very spot advocated by the Prophet.
He proposed a prison reform system that is just beginning to be realized. Joseph contended that our prisons should become seminaries of learning if we expect to rehabilitate those who have violated the laws of our society.
It is not because Joseph Smith advocated these things that they have finally been adopted. But it does indicate that his views in many fields, in addition to religion, have proven to be realistic and farsighted.
Zeal for Learning
There is a second quality of the Prophet Joseph, a quality that you and I must have if we want to become leaders. It is a zeal for learning.
You may recall in the New Testament the story of a young student. He journeyed with his parents, Joseph and Mary, down to the feast of the Passover. We don’t know why the party with whom he traveled to Jerusalem left before the feast was over, but it appears as if they did; they were some distance on their way when Joseph and Mary discovered that their son was not with them. They went back and found him sitting at the feet—or standing before—some of the great Jewish teachers. At 12 years of age Jesus Christ had a zeal for learning.
Joseph Smith was of like nature. At the age of 14 he sought the true church. He would not give up until he found the answer. Throughout his life a zeal for learning was one of his great qualities.
This quality of mind is exemplified in the many languages he studied. He had a working knowledge of Hebrew and often studied the Bible in German. He also learned to decipher Egyptian. In an address to the Saints he made a list of some dozen languages and said, “If I live long enough, I’m going to master them all.”
Faith in a Living God
This zeal for learning might not seem so vital and might not have brought him to greatness save for a third qualification, for we have indeed had intelligent men and women in this world who have also had a great desire to know and whom we admire, but who have often lacked the third quality—faith in a living God.
What has this to do with learning? Joseph Smith indicates that often when he struggled with a problem and could not find the answer, he went to the Lord in prayer. If he prayed in faith, “the answer,” he said, “came into my mind, with such clarity and such sequence of thoughts that I knew it was of God and I dictated the answer to my scribe.”
No matter how intelligent we may be or how desirous to learn, without faith in God many areas are closed to us. But these were not closed to Joseph Smith.
I think that a vital example of his faith is found in his experience with the book of Genesis in the Bible. Any reader of that book runs into problems. For example, the biblical record indicates that Adam and Eve had three sons, Cain, Abel, and Seth. Cain killed Abel and that left Cain and Seth to perpetuate the human race. Anyone reading the Bible knows that is impossible.
Joseph Smith exercised great faith when he prayed to the Lord to reveal to him the original context of this book of Moses. The original writings had been lost to the world, but Joseph prayed to the Lord to reveal them to him. That revealed text we have today is the book of Moses in the Pearl of Great Price. It constitutes one of the greatest additions to biblical scholarship that has ever been given to the world.
Power of Introspection
Joseph possessed a fourth quality that is important to all of us. It is the power of introspection—the power to look within ourselves and see what kind of person we are.
Every morning each one of us looks into a mirror to examine our physical appearance—hair styling, makeup, general health. Have you ever thought how fine it would be to look within yourself—to meet yourself on the street and ask yourself what kind of a person you are, to interrogate yourself? Do you know your own faults, your own strengths?
Here is an interesting quality of the Prophet Joseph. He knew his weaknesses and his strengths. He declared, “I was a rough stone until the Lord took me in hand.” (History of the Church, 5:423.)
Most of us hide our weaknesses. When we read in the Doctrine and Covenants, sections 3, 6, 10, and 24, we find that the Lord frequently upbraided the Prophet Joseph for failure to follow fully the directions given him [D&C 3, 6, 10, 24]. A lesser man would not have recorded those reprimands, but the Prophet never spared himself. He acknowledged and corrected his errors.
When he translated the Book of Mormon, Joseph recognized his weakness in regard to the English language, for he had had so little schooling. He studied the language, and when the second edition of the Book of Mormon came from the press, he had personally corrected the grammatical errors of the first edition. If you want to see him at his literary finest, reread sections 121, 122, and 123 of the Doctrine and Covenants [D&C 121, 122, 123]. This beautiful writing stands as a monument to a man’s ability to rise.
The Prophet recognized in himself many weaknesses, but he set about to overcome them. He recorded that on one occasion a man came into his home and in a rage called him almost every name under heaven. The Prophet wrote that he was so incensed he kicked the man out of his house and all the way to the front gate. He then went back to his office and wrote in his journal how unbecoming of a prophet his actions had been. He never lost his temper again.
When he was imprisoned in Liberty Jail during that hard winter of 1838–1839, without a fire or proper food, Joseph heard lurid stories about how his people had been driven and massacred and the women ravaged. He pleaded with the Lord:
“O God, where art thou? And where is the pavilion that covereth thy hiding place?
“How long shall thy hand be stayed … ?” (D&C 121:1–2.)
It was a prayer of complaint. But when the Lord answered him, he said unto him:
“Thou art not yet as Job; thy friends do not contend against thee, neither charge thee with transgression, as they did Job.” (D&C 121:10.)
He reminded him that the Son of Man had descended below them all: “Art thou greater than he?” Joseph Smith did not complain again.
Love of People
Let me refer to a fifth characteristic of the man: love of people. No man can be great in this world without a love for his fellowmen. Emma said of Joseph that he would not even eat a meal alone but would have to invite a stranger from the street to share it with him. (See History of the Church, 6:166.) Written accounts are full of instances in which he stood for the defense of an individual. His own written account is full of situations in which he rebuked the Saints for criticizing one another.
The supreme evidence of his love occurred in June 1844 when, having had it revealed to him by the Lord that his enemies sought his life, he had planned to journey into the West and find a place for the Saints where they might be safe. He had crossed the Mississippi when word came from his wife Emma, “The Saints think you are a coward. They are charging that you are running away.” From Joseph came these famous words: “If my life is of no value to my friends, it is of no value to me. Hyrum, we are going back.” (See Essentials in Church History, p. 374.)
As he rode out of Nauvoo on his way to Carthage to give himself up to the sheriff, he turned in the saddle, and looking back upon the city of Nauvoo, said, “Oh, that I could but speak once more to my beloved people.”
On the highway he met Steven Markham who said to him “Joseph, where are you going?” He answered, “I am going like a lamb to the slaughter, but I am as calm as a summer’s morning. I have a conscience void of offense toward God and toward all men.” (Essentials in Church History, p. 376.)
This is the Prophet Joseph Smith who possessed these five great qualities: intelligence, zeal for learning, faith in a living God, the ability to look within himself and correct his own character, and a love of people. These five qualities, possessed collectively, helped to make Joseph Smith a fit instrument in the hands of God to be a prophet to this dispensation. These same qualities will greatly help us in our callings if we will but recognize and cultivate them.

When I was old enough, I was called to serve in Germany. I loved everything about my mission. It was a turning point for me. I came to love Heavenly Father, His Son, and the gospel as never before, and I loved to hear the word of God preached. I came to love the scriptures; I loved reading them and understanding them. I found that the General Authorities who came to see us in the mission field were men of God and had great power to change people’s lives. I saw people accept the gospel and repent and be baptized and be filled with joy.

When I came home from my mission, it was with the firm resolve that I would never be the same—and I never have been. And all that happened because a priests quorum adviser stayed close to the young men in his quorum, taught them the gospel, and helped them learn in a very simple way that they could go on missions and be touched by the Spirit of the Lord.

I believe my decision to go on a mission was an example of choosing the right. I learned to choose the right at my parents’ knees, and I will be forever grateful to them for that. Part of choosing the right is obeying the Lord’s commandment to “honour thy father and thy mother” (Ex. 20:12). We might say it this way: Honor, respect, and obey your father and your mother in righteousness. My life has been blessed because of obeying my parents, just as you will be blessed for choosing the right and obeying your own parents.

For the last few years, I knew that God was prompting me to step away from social media. I knew that breaks from social media were great for me, but I also knew that I enjoyed the community that I found there. I didn’t know how to reconcile these two things; I just knew that something had to change.
I read a book that caused me to ponder the question, “How much time on social media is the right amount to provide the benefit of the community, without all the negative influences?” For me, the answer to this question was about 20 minutes … a month. I set a goal to make this happen, and with the help of the Lord, it was easier than I thought. The thing I didn’t expect was how much this change would strengthen my relationship with my Savior. I came to better feel the love that the Savior has for me; I have come to understand more clearly the plan He has for me; and I have come to see the needs of the people around me more clearly.
I have always known that I am a child of God and that He loves me. I have felt the love of my Savior during difficult times in my life. But too often I was letting social media dictate how I saw and thought of myself. As much as I tried to convince myself that the idealistic images on social media didn’t affect me, it turns out they did. Decreasing my time on social media allowed me the mental peace and quiet that I needed to hear the Savior telling me how He felt about me. I didn’t realize how much I had missed hearing His voice until I created more space for Him to be there.
I have always believed in the plan of salvation. I know that Jesus Christ is central to that plan. But I also believe that Heavenly Father has a plan for each of us individually. Larry M. Gibson, former First Counselor in the Young Men General Presidency, taught, “I know that Heavenly Father is concerned about each of us individually and has a personal plan for us to achieve our eternal destiny.”1
I spent a lot of time scrolling to try and figure out what my purpose was. Being on social media gave me a front row seat to all the creative, wonderful things people were doing. I learned a lot from these people, but I spent a lot more time seeking than doing. Since stepping away from social media, I have felt guided to know specifically what Heavenly Father would have me do. Many of these things have been surprising and different from what I thought they would be, but they have made my life richer and more abundant.
The Savior came so that we might have life and that we might have it more abundantly (see John 10:10). I’m grateful for the nudges that the Holy Ghost gives to us to help us have a more abundant life.
The Savior saw those who escaped others’ notice. I love reading stories about Him ministering to such people and teaching them their worth. Spending too much time on social media hindered me from really seeing people in my own life, including my family. I realized that if my children weren’t feeling seen by me, then they would soon be looking to outside sources to validate their worth.
I have been amazed at the love that I have for my children as I have been more present with them. I have loved my role as a mother more this last year than ever before. I have gotten to know neighbors and have been more active in my community. My opportunities for service have increased. I thought that social media was helping me to be more aware, but in reality I wasn’t living in the moment enough to really see the needs of those around me.
Decreasing my social media use seemed like a small and simple thing, but it has allowed me to greatly increase my faith and improve my relationship with my Savior. I know that Heavenly Father loves us, has a plan for us, and has children who need to feel seen by us too.
The author lives in New York, USA.

Revelation comes on the Lord’s timetable, which often means we must move forward in faith, even though we haven’t received all the answers we desire. As a General Authority, I was assigned to help reorganize a stake presidency under the direction of Elder Ezra Taft Benson. After praying, interviewing, studying, and praying again, Elder Benson asked if I knew who the new president would be. I said I had not received that inspiration yet. He looked at me for a long time and replied he hadn’t either. However, we were inspired to ask three worthy priesthood holders to speak in the Saturday evening session of conference. Moments after the third speaker began, the Spirit prompted me that he should be the new stake president. I looked over at President Benson and saw tears streaming down his face. Revelation had been given to both of us—but only by continuing to seek our Heavenly Father’s will as we moved forward in faith.

Photograph by Hemera/Thinkstock
Thomas Edison worked several years and tried more than 1,000 different materials before he found a suitable filament (the thin wire at the heart of a light bulb) that could provide long-lasting, affordable light. Ever the optimist, Edison viewed each material that didn’t work as a mere stepping-stone toward finding one that would. And once he did, the world was never the same.

Several years ago on a Sabbath day I sat with an associate in his beautiful cathedral and listened as the priest spoke of the body and blood of Jesus. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed tears making their way down the cheeks of my friend. My mind ambled back over the years of our association, and memory impressed upon me the reality of my friend’s commitment to his faith, his goodness as a human being, and his genuine, heartfelt desire to be true to what he understood. There came over me the quiet but compelling realization that the Almighty loved this man as much as he loved me; that he was a child of God, just as I was; and that the Lord would do all that was possible to maximize this man’s opportunities and insure his ultimate happiness.

That was an important moment in my life. I grew up with a testimony. It has not been difficult for me to believe. Though I was reared in a part of the country where there were few members of the Church around me, I somehow sensed deep in my bones that what we are about in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is true, is right, and is meant for the blessing of the entire world. On that particular occasion, however, as we sat reverently in a place that was somewhat foreign to my spiritual upbringing, there sprouted within me an inner awareness that God loves all men and women of all ages and is no respecter of persons. Oh, I knew then as I know now that this is the only true and living Church and that the Latter-day Saints are the custodians of the fulness of the gospel and the holy priesthood. There was and is no question whatsoever about that. But I seemed to perceive then—and as I grow older I perceive even more clearly—the goodness and mercy and infinite patience of our Heavenly Father toward all his sons and daughters. As Enoch observed: “Thou art there, and thy bosom is there; and also thou art just; thou art merciful and kind forever” (Moses 7:30).

Kirsty Slater, now 17, first met the Grices when she was 9. They invited her to a Primary party, then other activities. By age 14 she was a regular visitor, and the missionaries began teaching her at age 15.
“I had a calling before baptism and was doing my Personal Progress,” she smiles. “I was second counsellor in the Mia Maids.” On 4th February 1990 her parents eventually agreed to Kirsty’s baptism, and family attended in full force—aunts, uncles, and all.
“Conventions and testimony meetings were a great influence,” Kirsty admits. “Church gives me something to aim for. Sometimes it’s hard, but it seems to make things more complete. Seminary helped me learn a lot before baptism. I got answers to things I didn’t understand.”

Recalling his childhood in the Church of England, Elder Cuthbert said, “I sang in the church choir in three services each Sunday. The choirmistress was a good teacher, and I learned to love the Psalms, which are songs of praise and thanksgiving to God. When I was eleven, the choirmistress went to Zululand, South Africa, as a missionary. Her example helped me become interested in missionary work at an early age.
“After I joined the Lord’s true Church, He called me as a district missionary, then as a stake missionary, and later as a mission president. Now, as a General Authority, I will always be a missionary. A Seventy is a special witness of Jesus Christ to all the world.
“I am sure that you Primary children know many missionaries, some perhaps in your own family. They are examples for you to follow; Jesus wants all of us to be missionaries. One of my favorite scriptures is in Matthew, when Jesus was instructing His apostles just before He ascended into heaven: ‘Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost’ (Matt. 28:19). He is saying the same to us today through His prophet, President Benson. Boys and girls, start preparing for your missions now—by study, by prayer, and by helping others.
“I have seen many examples of faith and courage among young missionaries in the Church. Ian Menzies, a missionary in Scotland, said, ‘I must finish my mission,’ even though he had a tumor on his brain. Through faith and determination and priesthood administration, he accomplished what others said was impossible. Peter Chaya, a missionary in Zimbabwe, Africa, fulfilled his mission on crutches. He had lost the use of both legs through polio when he was a child. Pip Lees served as a stake missionary in England. Her companion pushed her door to door in a wheelchair for two years.
“During December 1987, I had some Church assignments in Bolivia, a beautiful South American country where the Church is growing rapidly but where the people have very little. The Regional Representative, Elder Philip Kradolfer, accompanied me, and he brought a large suitcase full of toys. Just before Christmas each year, his children give up some of their toys to help the children living in the Altiplano, or high plateau region, of Bolivia. It was wonderful to see the children’s faces as they received a doll, a game, a book, or a purse. Jesus taught that it is better to give than to receive, and I am sure that you have felt the same happiness when you have been a secret helper.
“While serving in South America last year,” Elder Cuthbert recalled, “I met many people who had little to eat and hardly a roof over their heads. Many are hearing the gospel and are being baptized. The children are attending Primary and are preparing for missions, just like you.
“In your prayers, would you remember these boys and girls who have a very hard life? As you prayerfully express thanks for the blessings that you enjoy, fill yourself up with gratitude and let it overflow into service. As you help other children, you will not want so much for yourselves.”

I have read some of the histories of the disaster which we commemorate this day. Of particular note is the account of the near spontaneous collection of flowers throughout Salt Lake City by young and old to be sent to Scofield to somehow alleviate the terrible suffering and grief. I was moved to tears as I read from the account.
“In Salt Lake words cannot describe the scenes that took place. Every one was anxious to do their part, and the school children, … hastened from house to house gathering flowers from all the gardens in the city until almost three carloads were furnished” (History of the Scofield Mine Disaster, 57).
The flowers were placed in the baggage compartment of a special train bound for Scofield. I quote now from the account.
The flowers “were spread out on the seats two and three feet high throughout the rest of the car. …
“Everything seemed to be there that might help to cheer those who have lived out in the hills, far away from the flowers and who are now experiencing the most dreadful calamity that has ever occurred in the western country. …
“The … car, with the lilacs and cut flowers, was switched into a sidetrack near the cemetery early in the morning. The car was next to the roadway over which the long train of wagons passed as they bore the bodies to their last resting place. The doors of the car were thrown open, and as each wagon came by, it halted while Captain Barrett and his aids, … buried the coffins under lilacs and handed each driver a bunch of cut flowers for the widows and children who accompanied the coffins. At the forward end of the car, the boys in charge were almost overwhelmed by requests for flowers. Work as fast as they could, the mournful little groups of women and children, in significant black, were still there awaiting their turn for the blossoms. If the donors of the flowers and the people who helped collect them could have seen the gratitude and appreciation of Scofield they would have been repaid an hundred fold for their work. …
“Just before noon came a plea from the Finns. Their spokesman came aboard the car and said they had sixty-one dead, none of whom had a friend in the country, aside from the people of their nationality. He asked as a favor that flowers be reserved for them until their train came down the canyon. There was an abundance for all, and the man’s face lighted with evident pleasure when he was assured that all the coffins would be decorated and the graves covered with flowers. The distribution alone took nearly all the time from nine o’clock in the morning until the heavy rain late in the afternoon stopped the melancholy procession” (57–61). To these flowers were added additional bouquets from towns along the route of the train.

Doris was one of the names on our list of inactive members. It had been so long since she’d been to church that no one could remember who she was. As ward Primary president, I’d repeatedly sent invitations to her four children to come to Primary, but it all seemed to just be wasted postage.
Her location was part of the problem. She lived 72 kilometers away from our small ward in upstate New York—the only member of the Church in her community. In fact, she was so isolated geographically that it had been years since she’d had a visit from the home teachers or Relief Society visiting teachers.
But we continued to invite her children to Primary, to send a card on their birthdays, and to carry a prayer in our hearts that they somehow might be reached.
Then Doris was assigned a new visiting teacher. This sister was unable to travel the 145 kilometer round trip that was required to visit Doris, but she thought she could at least write Doris a note each month and send her the ward newspaper.
And finally the notes and cards began to work: Doris wrote back to her new visiting teacher! “I’m so grateful to know that you still consider me a member of the Church,” she wrote. “I haven’t been able to attend for over five years, but I’m still very proud to be a Mormon.” Thus the correspondence began. Every month the visiting teacher would send Doris a note and the ward newspaper; nearly every month Doris would respond.
Then, one cold and wintry day, there were two new faces in Relief Society: Doris and her neighbor. Doris couldn’t drive, so she’d talked her nonmember neighbor into taking her to Relief Society, a 145 kilometer round trip.
It seemed like we’d always known her. She shared her testimony with us; she expressed great faith in the love of our Savior and in the truthfulness of the Church. After the meeting I made an appointment to finally visit with her in her home. With the permission of the bishop, I hoped to be able to organize a home Primary, with Doris as the teacher.
It was a snowy New England day when my counselor and I climbed into my chilly small car and drove through unfamiliar countryside. The roads were difficult in spots, and we both inwardly wished we had chosen a nicer day for the trip. But Doris had waited long enough. We were going to keep our appointment.
We were well repaid. As we sat in Doris’s cozy home, she told her story to us. The missionaries had knocked on her door five years before. She had rejoiced in the gospel message from the start, and even though her husband had not been interested, he had allowed her to be baptized.
Then came the hard part: she lived 72 kilometers from the church. There were no other members nearby and she could not drive. Her husband had no desire to take her. She lived too far away for home teachers or visiting teachers to come visit her. She had a testimony of her new church; she felt it was an unmatched blessing in her life. But she felt she had no way to develop that testimony.
It wasn’t long, though, before an understanding bishop recognized her need. Her twins had just turned three—Junior Sunday School age—so the bishop brought her a Course Three Sunday School manual. If circumstances were such that she couldn’t make the long trip to church, she could have church in her own home. She could teach her children the good news of the gospel that she herself had learned.
And she did teach them. Every Sunday morning for five years she gathered her four children together and taught them out of that same Course Three manual—five times they went completely through that same course of study.
Imagine how thrilled she was when a visiting teacher showed her that the ward still cared about her! Imagine her joy when she received the new lesson material I had taken with me, along with Targeteer banners and CTR rings!
Doris’s situation has changed now. A branch of the church has been established nearer her home, and other members of the church now live in her village. She can take her children to attend the true church every Sunday of the year now.
Because of the new branch, the records of Doris and her family have been transferred out of our ward. We seldom see her anymore, but as I look through the list of inactive children in our ward, I wonder how many Dorises are waiting for someone to bring them into activity. I wonder how many brothers and sisters and children will be touched and moved to action by our efforts. Like Doris, many won’t require much to strengthen them in the fold. After all, how much does a postage stamp cost?

He would almost certainly recall a defining experience from his missionary days. Young Elder Hinckley had dealt with poor health and intense opposition when he arrived in Preston. He wrote his father that he was wasting both time and money. A short letter came by return mail: “Dear Gordon, I have your recent letter. I have only one suggestion: forget yourself and go to work.” Says President Hinckley: “With my father’s letter in hand, I … got on my knees and made a pledge with the Lord. I covenanted that I would try to forget myself and lose myself in His service.
“That July day in 1933 was my day of decision. A new light came into my life and a new joy into my heart. The fog of England seemed to lift.”

Some of our most stalwart and faithful members have suffered a challenge to their faith for a season. I love the true account of W. W. Phelps, who had forsaken the Church and testified against the Prophet Joseph Smith in a Missouri court. After repenting, he wrote to Joseph, “I know my situation, you know it, and God knows it, and I want to be saved if my friends will help me.” Joseph did forgive him, put him back to work, and lovingly wrote, “Friends at first are friends again at last.”

At a recent encampment planned and directed by stake and ward priesthood leaders, I asked a young man how he felt about his leaders. He responded: “I’ve always been scared around stake presidents and bishops. For some reason I always feel like I’m getting interviewed. But living in camp with them has helped me make friends with them. Next time I have an interview we’ll have memories to talk about.”

When I was quite young, I heard a talk given by a leader in the Church. I do not remember who he was or even the setting of the talk. Although I cannot give proper credit to him, I think he would be glad to know that an idea remained with me. He said he asked for forgiveness from the Lord every day and that he needed to repent every day. It may surprise you to know that I just did not get that, at all. I couldn’t really comprehend that the person who was speaking would actually be doing anything for which he needed to repent of every day. At the time, I had a very simple understanding of sin and I thought repentance was just for serious problems. I also thought that it was very uncomfortable and unpleasant to go through, so I certainly did not want to subject myself to it on a daily basis; I cringed at the thought. Even though I could not really accept what I had heard, the idea didn’t go away. It bugged me from time to time through my teenage years and into my early twenties, and I’m using the term “bugged” intentionally. I would like you to think about what it feels like to have a little ant or bug crawling somewhere on your skin. It’s not harmful, but it really gets your attention, and then you swat it away as fast as you can. That is what this idea was like for me. Then I learned more about Jesus Christ, the gift of his Atonement, the purpose of repentance, and the miracle of forgiveness. I learned more about a lot of things. I came to know that my Heavenly Father does live and he loves me and wants me to be able to return to him. I came to know that Jesus Christ does live and he loves me so much that he would atone for my sins and he would redeem me. I learned more about the gift of the Holy Ghost and why this is a truly priceless gift. The Holy Ghost can reveal to us the truth of our actions so that we may see every day the things we need to correct and the faults within ourselves that we must mend as we try to be like Jesus. The longer and more consistently we invite the tutoring of the Holy Ghost, the more refined our vision of ourselves becomes and our sensitivity to what is right and what is wrong is greatly increased.
So, in this life we may never run out of things to correct through repentance as the Holy Ghost diligently works to help us try to become more and more like Jesus. The idea that speaker left with me doesn’t “bug” me anymore. It comes back to me all the time, but now I welcome it like a brilliant little butterfly landing on my outstretched hand. In other words, I don’t swat it away but take great delight in it. The concept of frequent, sincere repentance and personal reflection has become beautiful to me. And, I do need it daily because I am mindful of things now that I didn’t used to be mindful of. I think when I am a little white-haired and wrinkly lady that I will still be refining myself through repentance. I hope by then I’ll be a righteous example in everything I do and say and think, but I’ll probably still have things to work on within myself. I’m sure I’ll still be learning the things we have all come here to learn. I hope I will make progress and prepare every day of my life for the moment when I meet my elder brother and Savior again. I don’t know when that moment will come. I want to be ready. I don’t want to be afraid to see him. I just want to be happy to see him again. I want to be able to look into his eyes and see joy. What do you want that moment to be like?

“Will you accept a call to be elders quorum president?” On the surface, the request was simple enough. But for Robert D. Hales, then a graduate student working toward a master of business administration degree at Harvard University, there was no simple answer. In his heart, Robert was willing to accept the call, but he knew that professors discouraged students from any outside activities because of the intensity of the graduate program. He also knew he needed to talk it over with his wife, Mary.
The Hales family lived in an apartment with their two small children. As Robert and Mary discussed the call, they knew it would be extremely difficult for Robert to keep up with his master’s program and to serve as elders quorum president. However, after much prayer and discussion, Mary said, “I’d rather have an active priesthood holder than a man who holds a master’s degree from Harvard. We’ll do them both.” The next day when Robert came home from school, he discovered that Mary had walled off a section of the unfinished basement in their apartment. This small office would give Robert a place to study and help them both serve the Lord.
“I put myself in the Lord’s hands when I made that decision,” says Elder Hales now, nearly 40 years later. “That decision was much harder to make than when, years later, I accepted the call to serve as an Assistant to the Twelve and left my business career behind. Some people may have trouble understanding that, but I believe you really show the Lord who you are and what you are willing to become when you make those hard decisions as a young person.”

The fact that Apii is alive is part of the reason her family joined the Church. When she was eight, she was desperately ill with asthma. Missionaries gave her a blessing, and she was healed literally moments later. “I was really weak,” says Apii. “I hadn’t been able to eat or drink. As soon as the missionaries said amen I was all right. I opened my eyes and asked for something to drink. Everybody sort of laughed they were so relieved.”

Jonathan Wright could see a square piece of world from his bedroom window. He had seen the same square piece every day for the last year and a half. That’s how long he had been bedridden. The doctor had said that he had a rare blood disease and that he would die from it.
Jonathan had decided to take each day, each hour, each moment as special. And sacred. He also decided, after talks with his parents and his Heavenly Father, that since life and death, and life beyond death, are all a part of one great whole, it would be best to look for things to be happy about and to fill whatever time he had remaining with meaningful memories to keep him company in his lonely hours. Like memories of the smile his father gave him each day when he came home from the mill. And of the hugs his mother gave him, which soothed his very soul.
Reading the scriptures helped calm his occasional fears and strengthen his faith.
His little brother Spencer’s practical jokes—like putting his pet garden snake beneath the lid of the serving tray when his mother brought him supper—helped him to laugh. He was cheered, too, by all the little kindnesses that his family and others did for him. Spencer, for instance, saved all year to buy him a stereoscope so he could see three-dimensional pictures of faraway places.
Jonathan’s thoughts were distracted by the grinding of Mr. Walpole’s ice wagon. He always made deliveries on Tuesday. So, Jonathan thought, it must be Tuesday. And he would make it a grand Tuesday! The morning sun burnt gold off the Henry Mountains behind the small town, its misted rays stretching all the way to Jonathan’s street, Murphy Lane. It also shone on the sandlot next to Murphy’s Wagon and Automobile Garage, where each afternoon most of the children on Maple Street gathered to play ball. And it shone in Jonathan’s window—the best way for a day to start.
Jonathan wished he could help others the way he saw his father and Spencer helping Mrs. Beaufort across the street. His father was mending her picket fence. The week before, Arnold McKillop’s Model-T had crashed through it when Arnold swerved to keep from hitting Elias Stone’s three-legged dog, Tuff. Tuff had lost his leg from an infection, and Mr. Stone had yelled, “You’d like to see my dog trying to drag his leftovers around on two legs, wouldn’t you, McKillop!”
Jonathan had seen it all from his window. He looked now at Mr. Stone’s run-down house on the corner. His weed-filled yard matched the house—and Elias Stone himself, somehow. But maybe Mr. Stone has cause to look that way, Jonathan thought one day as he watched the tall, bearded man walk down the crookedy path to his mailbox. Elias jerked open the box to find nothing but blackness inside, as he always did. Then he shuffled back into his grim, paint-chipped house, the screen door whining shut behind him.
One day, Jonathan watched as Elias shooed away a child who was fetching a ball from the old man’s yard.
“Get out of my yard, you little snippety-snap!” the man bellowed. “The next time you throw your ball over here, I’ll feed it to my dog and that will be that!”
“Why is Mr. Stone so grumpy, Dad?” Jonathan had asked.
“From what I hear, Mr. Stone was the first one to move into the area,” Jonathan’s father explained. “His wife and child died when some epidemic came through town, and it changed him. As people moved in, he started shutting them out. He just sort of gave up on life and most everything else.
“Many have tried to be friendly, including your mom and me. Your mom baked bread especially for him more than once, but he refused it each time. I went over to see if I could help fix a wheel on his wagon about a year ago, and he told me to mind my own business. It’s sad, but one can only do so much. No one can force someone to change, Son. All a body can do is try.”
I haven’t tried yet, Jonathan thought. But what can I do?
The next day Jonathan saw Mr. Stone again trudge from his house to his rusty mailbox by the road and gaze into its usual black emptiness. He closed it slowly, turned up his collar against a little blast of wind that rolled a wave of autumn leaves up the street, and was about to start toward the house but then turned to regard the sight. He stared at the tumbling leaves as if they were scattered pages from a sad book, discarded, coming back to haunt him.
Suddenly the screen door was banging shut and Mr. Stone was gone again. Jonathan gazed at the shabby mailbox. “That’s what I can do,” Jonathan said out loud to himself. “I can write Mr. Stone a letter. No one else ever seems to.”
So Jonathan did. He wrote a letter introducing himself as the boy in the window. He wrote about his going to die and about how he didn’t have any time to feel bad about his circumstances, because the people he loved kept him busy feeling good about himself. He wrote that maybe if Mr. Stone let others into his heart, he could be happy too.
He ended with an invitation: “If you ever want someone to talk to, you could come and talk to me. Bring your dog if you want to. I’m always here. And if you don’t like to talk, I have lots of puzzles. One has two cowboys trying to rope a bear in the woods. Another one has a clown wiping tears from a child’s face. I live across the street in the green house. You can’t miss it.” Jonathan signed his name, folded and slipped the letter into an envelope, and asked Spencer to stamp it and take it to the post office right away.
The next day when Elias went to the mailbox, he opened it as usual and was about to close it as usual, then paused and reached inside, withdrawing an envelope. He opened it and read the letter. Then he looked across the street. Jonathan waved a tentative little wave. Elias narrowed an eye, grunted, and went back inside, the screen door closing with its customary bang!
Jonathan sighed and leaned back against the stack of pillows. Maybe writing a letter wasn’t such a good idea, after all. But mustering fresh courage, he opened his tablet and began another. Maybe, Jonathan thought, like one little match can’t melt an iceberg, one letter can’t get past all the pain of Mr. Stone’s misfortunes. But maybe two, or three, or four will.
In his second, third, and fourth letters, Jonathan wrote about how he knew that beyond the grave families could be rejoined, that if each of us tries daily to live God’s commandments the best we can and extend ourselves to others, the Lord will also help us now.
Each day Jonathan watched Elias Stone take his letter from the mailbox and read it. And each day he saw the tall man’s look softening.
One day a knock came at the door of the boy’s house. Through her surprise, Jonathan’s mother smiled pleasantly at Elias, who stood there holding up a handful of letters. Tuff sat at his feet.
“Your boy has been writing me letters!”
“I see. And you want him to stop, is that it, Mr. Stone?”
“What I want, Mrs. Wright,” he faltered, his eyes lifting slowly toward hers, “is to talk to him … if I may.”
Jonathan’s mother studied the bearded man for an uncertain moment; then, moved by a tear he quickly blinked away, she nodded and smiled again. “You may.”
“Can his dog come in, too, Mama?” Spencer, who was standing close beside her, begged.
“Of course.”
“Don’t play too rough with Tuff, boy,” Elias cautioned bluntly but not unkindly. “He can’t afford to lose another leg.”
Jonathan’s mother tapped on his bedroom door. “Someone’s here to see you.”
“OK, Mama.”
The door opened and Elias Stone edged into the little room.
“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Jonathan’s mother said respectfully. Elias nodded appreciatively, and she was gone.
Jonathan swallowed hard and greeted his visitor. “Mr. Stone.”
“Mr. Wright.” Elias held up a handful of letters. “I lost my wife and child many years ago,” he blurted out with a kind of embarrassed desperation.
“Yes, I know.”
“You do, do you?” Elias seemed surprised. A burning need drove out more words almost on top of one another. “You also said that you know there’s a uniting of loved ones after death. How can you say you know that, boy?”
Jonathan picked up his Bible and Book of Mormon from his bedside stand. “The scriptures tell me so, Mr. Stone,” he replied.
Late that night a light was still shining from beneath Jonathan’s door. Elias Stone had gone in at five o’clock and had not come out. When the door did open, Jonathan’s family beheld a man whose eyes were red from the scouring effect of tears working upon loosed bitterness, eyes now filled with peace. His mouth trembled with a ragged smile and these stumbling words: “Sorry to have kept your boy up so late, good people.”
Jonathan’s father struggled past his amazement. “Are you all right, Mr. Stone?”
“For the first time in years.”
After Elias Stone left with his three-legged companion, Jonathan’s family hurried, wondering, into his room. Jonathan was at the window, watching Elias’s dim form moving across the dusky street with Tuff at his side. Elias’s step seemed lighter.
“Tell us what happened, honey,” Jonathan’s mother said.
Jonathan looked back to his family, then tapped the scriptures lying open beside him on the bed. “A kind of miracle, Mama … a kind of miracle. …”

I turned the corner of the street just in time to see the bus pulling up to my bus stop. I ran as fast as I could, running between pedestrians, and leaped onto the bus just as it began pulling away.
Buses in Manchester, England, were always crowded at this time of night, but I didn’t mind. As an American student at the Royal Northern College of Music, I didn’t have very much free time to meet the British people, so I looked forward to my crowded bus rides as opportunities to make new friends.
I finally found a seat next to a lovely young woman who was deeply involved in reading a pamphlet. I sat down quietly, trying not to disturb her, but I couldn’t help looking at what he was reading. It was a religious pamphlet that had the title, “Believe in Christ and Be Saved!” Further down the page I read the words, “We are saved by faith alone.” I looked up to find the young woman smiling at me curiously. “Oh, excuse me,” I said, “but I couldn’t help noticing your pamphlet. Are you interested in religion?”
“Oh, no!” she said in a strong, contented voice. “I’m already saved! I’m just reading this for fun. And what about you?” she asked. “Are you saved?”
I had never been asked the question in that way before, and I stammered with my answer, “Well, I’m … I’m … I’m trying! I am a Christian.”
“Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!” she shouted in a loud voice, making several of the other passengers on the bus turn around to look at us. Then, a little more softly, she asked, “What is your church?”
“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I’m a Mormon.”
“Oh, no!” she whispered, leaning away from me with fear in her eyes. “Oh, I know about Mormons! You’re not Christian.”
“Yes, we are!” I said.
“No,” she said again. “No! I remember two Mormons came to my home once and told me that they had a message for me about Jesus Christ. I let them in to talk about Christ, and all we talked about was some man named Joseph Smith. I don’t believe in him, and they didn’t tell me about Christ. Your church isn’t Christian.”
She was so sure of her opinion that I didn’t know what to say in return. But then I heard myself talking about Joseph Smith and explaining why he was so important to the restoration of the true gospel. I told her about continuing revelation and bore my testimony of a living prophet on the earth today.
She listened politely for some time, then apologized as she stood up, “I’m sorry, but this is where I get off. It’s been nice talking to you, but I still say Mormons aren’t Christian.” With that, she got off the bus and left me staring after her.
I worried all the way home, and for the rest of the evening I couldn’t stop thinking of the young woman and her incorrect belief that Latter-day Saints didn’t believe in Christ. What could I say, if I ever met her again, to convince her that I did have a testimony of Christ and that I believed that I belonged to his church?
I turned to my scriptures, hoping to find some kind of answer or at least some comfort. I picked up my Book of Mormon, and in 2 Nephi I began to read the beautiful and plain words testifying of the Savior.
“And we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophesy of Christ, and we write according to our prophecies, that our children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins” (2 Ne. 25:26).
Since I had been studying in England, I had told many people on my bus about the Church. I had talked about Utah and Brigham Young University, about pioneers and prophets, about families, about developing talents and storing food. I had talked about Joseph Smith and the restoration of the gospel, and about missions and the scriptures. But had I ever “talked of Christ”?
In my prayers that night I gave sincere thanks for Jesus Christ, the reason this gospel and church are true, and the source we can look to for a remission of our sins. I also prayed that I would see again the young lady I had talked with on the bus, so that I could tell her about the most important part of my testimony, my belief in Christ.
I did see her again, the very next day on the same bus. She seemed happy to see me, and we chatted about the weather and my music classes. As we got closer to her stop, I turned to her nervously and said, “I forgot to tell you something about my church yesterday.”
I began to talk of Christ. The words were not eloquent or powerful, but I bore my testimony of Jesus Christ as our Savior and as the head of our church. “My church teaches its members many things,” I said. “Sometimes we get so caught up in these wonderful truths that we forget the most important truth we have, that Jesus is our Savior and is at the center of our church. I’m sorry I didn’t talk about him sooner.”
I talked about the scripture in 2 Nephi [2 Ne. 25:26] and told her that I knew the Book of Mormon was another testament of Christ.
The bus had stopped and people were pushing their way off. Without looking at me, the young woman got up and joined them. But as she got off the bus, she looked up at my window and called, “Thank you!”
I never saw her again. I don’t think she ran home to call the elders and ask to be baptized. But she did leave that bus knowing that I believed in Jesus Christ and that I knew The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is his Church and worships him.
How grateful I am for the powerful words of Nephi that reminded me of what it is we always ought to be teaching our brothers and sisters. In talking about the many wonderful blessings of our church, I hope I never again miss the opportunity to show, through words and actions, that at the center of our belief is Christ.

One of these intrepid souls was Emma Batchelor, a young English girl traveling without family. She started out with the Willie Handcart Company, but by the time they reached Fort Laramie, they were ordered to lighten their loads. Emma was directed to leave the copper kettle in which she carried her belongings. She refused to do this and set it by the side of the road and sat down on it, knowing that the Martin Company was only a few days behind. When the Martin Company caught up, she joined the Paul Gourley family. A young son wrote many years later: “Here we were joined by Sister Emma Batchelor. We were glad to have her because she was young and strong and meant more flour for our mess.” At this time, Sister Gourley gave birth to a child, and Emma acted as the midwife and for two days loaded the mother and the child into the cart, which Emma helped pull.
Those who died traveling with the Martin Company were mercifully relieved of suffering from frozen feet, ears, noses, or fingers, which maimed others for the rest of their lives. Emma, age 21, however, was a fortunate one—she came through the ordeal whole.
When a year later she met President Brigham Young, who was surprised that she was not maimed, she told him: “Brother Brigham I had no one to care for me or to look out for me, so I decided I must look out for myself. I was the one who called out when Brother Savage warned us [not to go]. I was at fault in that, but I tried to make up for it. I pulled my full share at the cart every day. When we came to a stream, I stopped and took off my shoes and stockings and outer skirt and put them on top of the cart. Then, after I got the cart across, I came back and carried little Paul over on my back. Then I sat down and scrubbed my feet hard with my woollen neckerchief and put on dry shoes and stockings.”

Parañaque City, near Manila, was hit by Tropical Storm Ketsana in late September. At the height of the storm, the bishop of one of the four local wards floated across neck-deep floodwaters on a Styrofoam cooler lid to help evacuate three families. The next day sacrament meeting was canceled; however, many members of the affected ward, though dealing with the effects of the storm themselves, met at the meetinghouse in pajamas, shorts, and jackets, carrying food and clothes to be given to those in need. In about two hours, all the families in the ward were visited, checked on, and helped.
Then, only two nights after many of them had been wading through the wreckage of their own villages, members from the Parañaque area gathered at their local meetinghouse and assembled 26 bags of clothing, which they had donated, all sorted and individually packaged.
“It was one of the most memorable home evenings for many families in our ward,” said Bishop Franco Advincula.
A sister from a family in need called the bishop to ask when they could give their contributions. “I was stunned, and I couldn’t find the right words,” said Bishop Advincula. “However, I was inspired that I should not deny this good sister the opportunity to help.”