Gospel Story Finder

When our children were young, our family spent a few days at a beautiful lake. One afternoon some of the children put on life jackets before jumping off a deck and into the water. Our youngest daughter watched with hesitation, carefully observing her siblings. With all the courage she could muster, she plugged her nose with one hand and jumped. She immediately popped up and with a bit of panic in her voice yelled, “Help me! Help me!”
Now, she was not in any mortal danger; her life jacket was doing its job, and she was floating safely. We could have reached out and pulled her back on the deck with little effort. Yet from her perspective, she needed help. Perhaps it was the chill of the water or the newness of the experience. In any case, she climbed back onto the deck, where we wrapped her in a dry towel and complimented her on her bravery.

I think of her. I think of my father. I think of all those General Authorities who’ve influenced me, and others, including the widows whom I visited—85 of them—with a chicken for the oven, sometimes a little money for their pocket.
I visited one late one night. It was midnight, and I went to the nursing home, and the receptionist said, “I’m sure she’s asleep, but she told me to be sure to awaken her, for she said, ‘I know he’ll come.’”
I held her hand; she called my name. She was wide awake. She pressed my hand to her lips and said, “I knew you’d come.” How could I not have come?
Beautiful music touches me that way.

Recently, in our priesthood quorum meeting we were discussing prayer and its role in our lives. We spoke of various places and attitudes of prayer. And eventually, the discussion got around to our own personal experiences with prayer.
Though the Lord had answered my prayers hundreds of times, and though my testimony of prayer has always been extremely strong, my thoughts turned instantly to an experience I had had at basic military training camp in San Antonio, Texas, in 1968.
My air force training group was assigned to Barracks No. 1019. It was a typical two-story military building with double doors at each end, windows on both sides. It stood among a hundred other buildings just like it, all painted white.
My assigned bunk was on the upper floor toward the back. When you got to the top of the stairs, you faced the training instructor’s office on the right, the latrine on the left, and a dark wood floor straight ahead.
The foot of my bunk stood alongside thirty other beds just like it. My footlocker was at the head of my bed. I slept on the bottom bunk.
Sleeping on the bunk above me was William E. “Willy” Wilson, short, strong, black, raised in America’s south, deeply religious, a great friend.
From the first day in the camp I felt the need to pray more than usual. But I wondered if I would be able to kneel to pray in the barrack room.
The first night I waited patiently for the lights to go out. At 9:00 P.M. they shut off automatically, controlled by a timer in the training instructor’s office. They came back on at 4:45 each morning.
At about 9:20 P.M., I quickly and quietly got out of my bed and fell to my knees in prayer. I asked God to help me find a way to have my prayers without any interruptions.
Though we were all supposed to be in bed, many of the men continued polishing their army boots by flashlight or writing letters by the light of a cigarette lighter. Many just talked.
After praying, I would gently climb back into bed, careful not to disturb Willy.
I did that each night for about a week.
On the first Sabbath morning, we were allowed to sleep until 6:00 A.M. At a few minutes past 6:00, as I sleepily sat on the side of my bed, still trying to wake up, our training instructor, Sergeant Bradbury, came into the room.
He sternly called out, “Does anyone want to go to church today?”
“Yes, sir,” I called out. Total silence came over the barracks, upstairs and down.
“Come into my office, Fish,” he quietly ordered.
That first week, we had all learned never to volunteer for anything. Now I had.
“You made a mistake,” Willy whispered as I walked past him.
In the sergeant’s office I reported, “Airman Fish reporting as ordered.”
“Relax,” he said. “Sit down.” I did as I was told.
“What religion are you?” he asked.
“Latter-day Saint, sir,” I replied. His face had a puzzled look.
“Mormon, sir,” I explained.
“Oh,” he half smiled. “I have a good friend who is a Mormon,” he said half apologetically, as if to seek my permission to say that. I nodded in agreement.
“Do you know where your church meets?” was his next question.
“No, sir. I don’t.”
Opening his desk drawer, he pulled out a camp directory and showed me where to go. He also gave me the name of the camp chaplain, whom I called from the sergeant’s office. He was most helpful. “Priesthood meeting starts at 9:00,” he told me.
After getting all of the necessary directions, I gently hung up the telephone and Sergeant Bradbury said, “You are free to go. Be back by 6:00!”
“Yes, sir!”
When I was halfway back to my bunk Sergeant Bradbury spoke again, where all could hear. “Except for Fish, you are all confined to barracks, except going for meals.”
When I returned from church that day, I was greeted by the other men with sarcastic remarks.
“Hi, chaplain,” one remarked.
“How was God today?” another asked.
I just tried smiling and kept walking toward my bunk. I could see Willy lying on the top bunk reading.
“Like I said,” he greeted me, “you made a mistake.”
That was the first time in my life I had ever been told that going to church was a mistake.
I changed my clothes and marched to supper with the group—though only Willy would sit with me.
We spent the rest of our Sunday evening reading, writing letters, and doing other things.
Following my regular procedure of the past week, at around 9:15 I climbed quietly once more from my bed and in the darkness slipped to my knees. As usual, the regular barrack room noise continued.
Barely had I begun praying when a very familiar voice shouted clearly, “Quiet! The chaplain’s praying.”
It was Willy.
The noise on the upper floor of Building 1019 instantly stopped. Many of us would soon be assigned to the fighting in Indochina. I came to realize that we all felt a need for the comfort that comes from prayer.
By general, respectful agreement, I spent the next six weeks, promptly at 9:15 P.M. each night, standing at the foot of my bed and offering a two or three minute prayer in behalf of all of the sixty men on that top floor in Building 1019. And during those few short minutes of prayer, it seemed as though we were assembled in a sanctuary, far removed from military affairs and procedures.
At the end of each prayer there were always some quiet “amens” and many louder “hallelujahs.”
But it didn’t matter. As I stood there those forty nights, being the “voice” for many, we all prayed to the same God. And he had answered my prayers.

After serving for a time in Salzburg, I was transferred to Zürich, Switzerland. While I was there, Brother Julius Billeter, a member of the Church, approached me. He was a professional genealogist, and he told me he had seen quite a few Wirthlin names in his work. He offered to research my family lines. I wrote home, and my father thought it was a wonderful opportunity, so we hired him to begin.
A year later he handed me a book. It was 36 centimeters long, 46 centimeters wide, and weighed 6.2 kilograms. It was filled with nearly 6,000 names of my ancestors. It was a priceless volume that I treasured. Just before my missionary release, I packed the precious book in a steamer trunk along with some of my other possessions and shipped it home. I prayed that it would arrive safely and that the precious family history would not be lost.
I arrived home before the trunk. Weeks passed. Still no trunk. I began to worry that the irreplaceable book had been lost. Six months after I had arrived in Salt Lake City, I received a call from the Union Pacific depot. A trunk had arrived for me. I rushed down to retrieve it, but when I saw it, my heart sank. The lock on the trunk had been broken.
I pried up the lid, and when I looked inside, my heart fell further. Everything had been soaked with seawater. What is more, I could tell someone had rifled through my belongings. Some things were missing.
I gingerly removed the layers of clothing, searching for my precious book. When I reached it, my heart overflowed with joy. Not only was it there, but the papers were completely dry! I know the book was preserved through divine intervention.

There are two main experiences that led to my testimony of Christ. The first happened the day my big brother died. He passed away on a Scout outing in eastern Arizona. I was 14 years old. When my parents and I found out, we were heartbroken.
At first, it was hard to imagine that I would be living the rest of my life without my big brother. But I was wrong. From the moment I heard of his death, I felt peace. I was at peace because Christ was there to mourn with me when I mourned and comfort me when I needed comfort. Never for one minute did I feel alone.
More than a year later, I participated in the Mesa Temple Easter Pageant. It depicts Christ’s life on the earth and plays six nights during the week of Easter. The best part was that it took place on the temple grounds. I was just one of the crowd in a cast of 300. For several weeks, I was able to spend hours near a house of the Lord.
As I watched Christ’s life portrayed to thousands of people, I was able to witness a representation of His birth. I was feet away when He was shown healing the sick and raising the dead. I watched when He was portrayed suffering and atoning for the sins of the world, and I was there when He was depicted dying on the cross for all. I was there and saw the portrayal of Him rising from the dead three days later, and I saw the representation of Him ascending to His Father.
The feelings I had at that time are indescribable. It seemed so real to me. I was able to testify of Christ’s message many times to those who had never heard it—that He lives!
I know that Jesus Christ is our Savior and Redeemer. He is the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords. He is the way, the truth, and the life. Because of Him I can be with my brother again. Because of Him, I can be with Heavenly Father. This message is what will save the world in the last days. If we have faith in Him, we can receive blessings beyond measure. If we follow Him, we can become like Him.

I am reminded of an experience I had with a fine old Christian gentleman—a great Constitutional lawyer—named John D. Miller during an evening he spent in our home in Washington, D.C. After an hour of visiting in the living room, Sister Benson and the daughters who had been preparing the dinner announced that it was ready. We went into the dining room, and the children started preparing chairs for family prayer. And so I said to Judge Miller, “Judge, it’s customary in our home to have family prayer, daily devotion, morning and evening. Would you care to join us?” He said, “Yes, I would.” Then he watched the children to see what they did, and then knelt at his chair. We called on our oldest daughter, who was then probably eight or nine years of age, to lead the prayer. She is now the mother of five children, the wife of a stake president. Barbara offered a sweet, lovely prayer, and then she added, “And Heavenly Father, bless Judge Miller that he will enjoy his visit with us and return safely to his hotel.” That was all.

We drove the judge down to his hotel. Nothing was said of the incident.

About six months later this man was host to some 25 or 30 industrial, business, labor, and agricultural leaders at his winter home in Florida. After the dinner they were seated in the large living room talking about problems facing the nation, and as often happens-more often I think than we realize—the subject turned to things of the spirit—to religion. And then John D. Miller, this fine Christian gentleman, not a member of the Church, told of this little incident that had happened in our home—this simple thing of family prayer. And he said, “Gentlemen, I went to my hotel that night feeling that I had not fully measured up as a father. We had never had devotion in our home with my children.” And then he went on to tell of the power he felt must be in the lives of children reared in a home where there is spirituality.

We take it for granted as Latter-day Saints. I presume we don’t think it’s anything particularly special.

Illiam Jones lives in a place of fairy tales and myths. It’s the Isle of Man, located in the sea between England and Ireland. And, naturally, there’s a legend about how the island came to be.
“A giant from England and a giant from Ireland were having an argument,” ten-year-old Illiam explains. “They got so angry with each other that the giant from England picked up a rock and threw it at the giant from Ireland. But he couldn’t throw it far enough to reach Ireland. It landed in the middle of the ocean and became the Isle of Man.”
Although the Isle of Man is part of the United Kingdom, it has its own money, its own stamps, and a flag and coat of arms featuring a symbol with three legs. People who live on the Isle of Man speak English, but some people know an older language, Manx.
The Isle of Man has many things to remind you of its heritage—steam and electric railways; the world’s largest working water wheel; a village folk museum; and Tynwald Hill, where Vikings used to meet to make their laws. Every year, the Isle of Man is the site of motorcycle, bicycle, and automobile races.
The island is also known for unusual animals, like the Manx cat, which has no tail, and the Loghton sheep, which has four horns—two pointing up and two curling down.
But for Illiam, the Isle of Man is just home. He says the races mostly bring noise and crowds to Douglas, the city where he lives. He thinks all the tourists staring at the sheep “make the sheep seem like show-offs, trying to be ‘posh’ with their four horns.” He’s more keen on playing football (soccer), going to school, and eating “chips,” or fried potatoes.
Most of all, Illiam loves to sing with his seven-year-old sister, Voirrey (the Manx name for Mary). They often sing duets in their ward, and sometimes they’re asked to sing in other religions’ churches.
“I love to sing,” Illiam says. “My favorite hymn is ‘As I Have Loved You.’ I’ve sung it at nearly every single baptism held in our ward.”
His own baptism was an occasion to remember. “It was the best day of my whole life!” he says exuberantly.
School teachers, friends, and friends’ parents all came, and each received a small handmade paper book from Illiam and his mother, with poems, pictures, photos, and Illiam’s written testimony.
“It helped them to be better informed about our church and its teachings,” Illiam says.
When he was baptized, he says, “I felt like the Holy Ghost was with me all the time, especially when I went under the water.” He had a special feeling that he was very close to Heavenly Father and that Jesus was proud of him.
Illiam also loves to go to Primary. “I love the sing-alongs, and when we act out stories from the scriptures. But most of all, I like learning about Heavenly Father and Jesus. Learning about them is the most important thing in life, so that you can do the things they want you to do.”
On an island where myths and fairy tales abound, Illiam Jones has clearly learned a lot about knowing the truth.

In the weeks leading up to my marriage and temple sealing, I started getting a little nervous about all the things I needed to do before I started my new family. Despite all the joy of that moment, I felt stressed about organizing our new routine, getting our finances in order, finding storage for our belongings, and all my new responsibilities as a wife. I wanted to make sure we started off our marriage the right way by making room in our activities for important things like keeping the commandments and spending time together as husband and wife in spite of our busy lives.
As the wedding day came closer, I was surprised by a series of nightmares involving all sorts of troubles that could affect a family. Because I come from a loving but afflicted family, threatened by constant and intense arguments and broken hearts, the bad dreams affected me more than they should have. So one night, after several others like it, I woke up sweating and decided to follow the advice that Sister Neill F. Marriott, Second Counselor in the Young Women General Presidency, gave in her talk “Yielding Our Hearts to God” (Liahona, Nov. 2015, 30–32). I closed my eyes and prayed, “Dear Heavenly Father, what can I do to keep these bad things away from my family?”
The answer hit me as fast and as strongly as if someone had opened a door into my head and put the thought there. The still, small voice prompted me, “Just do what you are supposed to do. Be faithful in each step.” The Spirit whispered some specific counsel, and I felt that if I did those things, everything would be fine.
I smiled and felt my chest filled with warmth. All the worries were suddenly forgotten, because I knew it was true. I had felt the Holy Ghost before, but never as strong as I did that night. I felt the love of our Heavenly Father and our Savior surround me, and I knew that the comfort and salvation of my family was as important for Them as it was for me.

There were at least two Latter-day Saint connections to the Titanic. Both illustrate our challenge in understanding trials, tribulations, and tragedies and provide insight as to how we might deal with them. The first is an example of being appreciative for the blessings we receive and the challenges we avoid. It involves Alma Sonne, who later served as a General Authority. He was my stake president when I was born in Logan, Utah. I had my mission interview with Elder Sonne. In those days all prospective missionaries were interviewed by a General Authority. He was a great influence in my life.

When Alma was a young man, he had a friend named Fred who was less active in the Church. They had numerous discussions about serving a mission, and eventually Alma Sonne convinced Fred to prepare and serve. They were both called to the British Mission. At the conclusion of their missions, Elder Sonne, the mission secretary, made the travel arrangements for their return to the United States. He booked passage on the Titanic for himself, Fred, and four other missionaries who had also completed their missions.

When it came time to travel, for some reason Fred was delayed. Elder Sonne canceled all six bookings to sail on the new luxury liner on its maiden voyage and booked passage on a ship that sailed the next day. The four missionaries, who were excited about traveling on the Titanic, expressed their disappointment. Elder Sonne’s answer paraphrased the account of Joseph and his brothers in Egypt recorded in Genesis: “How can we return to our families and the lad be not with us?” He explained to his companions that they all came to England together and they all should return home together. Elder Sonne subsequently learned of the Titanic’s sinking and gratefully said to his friend Fred, “You saved my life.” Fred replied, “No, by getting me on this mission, you saved my life.” All of the missionaries thanked the Lord for preserving them.

There is a picture of another girl in that yearbook. She was not particularly beautiful. But she had a wholesome look about her, a sparkle in her eyes, and a smile on her face. She knew why she was in school. She was there to learn. She dreamed of the kind of woman she wanted to be and patterned her life accordingly. She also knew how to have fun but knew when to stop and put her mind on other things.
There was a boy in school at the time. He had come from a small rural town. He had very little money. There was nothing especially handsome or dashing about him. He was a good student. He had set a goal for himself. It was lofty and, at times, appeared almost impossible of attainment.
These two fell in love. People said, “What does he see in her?” Or, “What does she see in him?” They each saw something wonderful which no one else saw.
Upon graduating from the university, they married. Money was hard to come by. He went on to graduate school. She continued to work for a time, and then their children came. She gave her attention to them.
A few years ago, I was riding a plane home from the East. It was late at night. I walked down the aisle in the semidarkness. I saw a woman asleep with her head on the shoulder of her husband. She awakened as I approached. I immediately recognized the girl I had known in high school so long before. I recognized the boy I had also known. They were now approaching old age. As we talked, she explained that their children were grown, that they were grandparents. She proudly told me that they were returning from the East, where he had gone to deliver a paper. There at a great convention he had been honored by his peers from across the nation.
I learned that they had been active in the Church, serving in whatever capacity they were asked to serve. By every measure, they were successful. They had accomplished the goals which they had set for themselves. They had been honored and respected and had made a tremendous contribution to the society of which they were a part. She had become the woman of whom she had dreamed.
The life of the other had been difficult. It had meant working and struggling. It had meant simple food and plain clothing and a very modest apartment in the years of her husband’s initial effort to get started in his profession. But out of that seemingly sterile soil there had grown two plants, side by side, that blossomed and bloomed in a beautiful and wonderful way. Those beautiful blossoms spoke of service to fellowmen, of unselfishness one to another, of love and respect and faith in one’s companion, of happiness as they met the needs of others in the various activities which they pursued.

Please share this recent experience I had while visiting in South America. I was traveling with a mission president 200 miles from his office. Word reached him one of his elders was in the hospital with a ruptured appendix. His condition was grave because of the six- to seven-hour delay in getting medical attention. The mission president gave immediate instructions by telephone, getting the best physician possible, leading sixty missionaries assembled in zone conference in united prayer. He and his wife were at the elder’s bedside the following morning. Prayers continued, medical attention increased, companions took turns sitting at his bedside around the clock. Parents in Idaho were notified. “The best is being done for your son. We feel he will make it. Please have your family join us in our prayers.”

Here was friendship in action. Here was a friend at work. Here was an example of leaving the ninety and nine for the immediate attention of the one.

At about age 10, I experienced that warm feeling again when I went to stake conference with my parents. An Apostle, Elder Matthew Cowley, was the visiting speaker. He was well known for being a man of faith and miracles—he served a five-year mission to New Zealand starting when he was only 17! As he spoke, I knew for myself that he was a servant of our Heavenly Father. After the meeting, I asked my parents if I could shake his hand. We stood in line for a long time because many other people felt as I did, that Elder Cowley was a very special man. When I finally had the opportunity to shake his hand, I began to cry. I cried all the way home. As a young lad, I was very self-conscious about crying for no apparent reason. My mother explained to me that the feelings I had were a sign of the Spirit confirming that Elder Cowley was a special witness of the Savior. I often experience those same feelings when I shake hands with the Brethren whom we sustain as prophets, seers, and revelators today.

Rooma didn’t really want to study the scriptures. Vaitiare didn’t really want to go to seminary. And they didn’t have to. But when they chose to, their lives changed.
At the beginning of the school year, Vaitiare Pito wasn’t even a member of the Church. So how did a new member who had never been to seminary before help her team win the Faaa stake scripture mastery championship?
“I wasn’t worried about not having a lot of experience,” she says. “I learned many of those verses during the missionary lessons.”
Most of Vaitiare’s family joined the Church after her father died unexpectedly and the ward mission leader brought the missionaries to Vaitiare’s home. They talked about family unity and being together forever. “It really brought a change to our family,” she says.
However, it didn’t necessarily change the 17-year-old’s independent streak. “After I was baptized, everyone told me I should go to seminary,” she says. “I don’t like being told what to do, so it took me a while to go.”
Eventually she decided for herself to go and found she enjoyed it. She was assigned to be part of the same scripture mastery team as Rooma.
At first she didn’t make an effort to read the scripture assignments. But when she decided she would, she soon recognized a number of blessings.
“The scriptures have been a great help,” she says. “I have learned from the scriptures many things,” including the importance of prayer and that Heavenly Father will answer those prayers.
She also learned that when she decides to commit to something, like going to seminary or reading the scriptures, keeping the commitment is easier than if she does it because she has to or is “supposed” to.
Now that the school year is over, Vaitiare is grateful she chose to go to seminary and study the scriptures: “I know when we read the scriptures, we are blessed.”

“On a Friday afternoon an opportunity came up to go visit a new girl in our ward,” Emma H., 15, said. “No one wanted to do it, including me. But I think the idea of helping someone else and sacrificing my time was something I was more used to after the Fit Challenge and more used to saying yes to. I said I’d go, and I went and had a super great visit with one of the Beehives. We got her to come watch the general women’s session of conference with us. It was cool because she seemed to have wanted us to come by.”
“When you are asked to do something, whether it’s by a leader in your ward or your stake or a prompting from Heavenly Father, you should act on that,” she continued. “Try something new, work a little harder to be a little better. Those practices can really change your life if you let them.”

Four years ago, my institute teacher, Brother Suresh Natrajan, asked the class, “How many of you have gone to the temple?” Because my wife, Anantha, and I had made the 10-hour trip to the Hong Kong China Temple for the first time the year before, I raised my hand proudly. Then he asked another question: “Do you remember what covenants you made in the temple?”
His question was thoughtful. There was so much to take in during my first time in the temple. While I had tried to be attentive, after all that time, I realized I had forgotten the covenants that I made in the temple. At that very moment, I made the decision to go back to temple for the second time and this time to pay attention to and remember the covenants I made and other things that are essential for my salvation.
Time passed. I was facing terrible trials in my life. But I was enrolled in an institute class, and one day we had a lesson on the prophet Jonah. Jonah didn’t do what the Lord commanded him to do. One of the verses that caught my attention was Jonah 2:4: “Then I said, I am cast out of thy sight; yet I will look again toward thy holy temple.”
This scripture touched my heart, and I prayed to Heavenly Father to give me and my wife another chance to visit the temple.
After four years, Heavenly Father blessed us to again enter His house, this time in the Taipei Taiwan Temple.
Mahesh and Anantha Vedurupaka in front of the Taipei Taiwan Temple.
While there, I had the opportunity to perform ordinances on behalf of my uncle who had died of cancer. When I was being baptized for him, I thought about the blessings he would receive through this temple ordinance. I was so happy, and I recognized what the temple president told me when I had come to the temple for the first time and had been a little bit confused. He told me, “Brother, you may not understand all of what you are doing right now, but a day will come when you will feel you have done great things here.”
I got my answer. It has taken me four years to understand by visiting the temple for the second time.
Now while partaking of the sacrament each and every week, I remember how powerful the Atonement of Jesus Christ is and how sacred the covenants I have made in the temple are.
This year is mine and my wife’s 10th wedding anniversary. I want to celebrate it in the temple and perform sealing ordinances for my ancestors. To do this, I have been working a second job apart from my regular job, one that doesn’t affect my time with my family.
I know and I feel that temple work is real. Nothing can replace it, and it’s worth any sacrifice to attend the temple and do Heavenly Father’s work for ourselves and for souls who are on the other side of the veil.

Equally unwelcome was the “shower” that fell on the little town of Coonamble, Australia. People dashed for cover and shops closed hurriedly as millions of beetles fell from the sky. Householders worked at top speed trying to make doors and windows beetle-proof, but it was practically impossible to keep the invaders at bay. It was two days before life in the town even began to return to normal and much longer before the beetles were completely cleared from pantries, cupboards, bedrooms, and attics.

Illustration by Dilleen Marsh
I’d always been somewhat confused about prayer, especially growing up with parents of separate religions. With such confusion, I didn’t have a testimony and I didn’t feel like I could trust what I heard about prayer, because everyone seemed to believe something different.
I especially struggled with this when I started at a new school with no friends and no stable family or belief system to keep me rooted. I floundered for a long time and, with uncertainty and confusion, became really depressed. As it worsened, I felt so lost and far from my Heavenly Father. With everything going on within my family, it was easy to feel unworthy of love or compassion.
I’d prayed before that things would get better in my family, but they didn’t seem to. I thought that if Heavenly Father really answered prayers for other people, then I must not be worthy of having my prayers answered, because nothing changed in my family. In fact, things got worse.
I thought that maybe I didn’t deserve answered prayers since I was so confused about what to believe. How could I expect Heavenly Father to answer me when I didn’t feel like I knew Him very well? In my eyes, I deserved to drift because it seemed I couldn’t figure out what the right thing was. I thought I’d stumbled too many times and that—for that reason—I wouldn’t be given answers.
So I stopped praying, partly out of anger and partly because I didn’t feel worthy to. I slipped further into despair until I no longer had a desire to keep going. I really felt like I didn’t matter. I was at the end of my rope, feeling utterly worthless, when I finally turned to Heavenly Father.
“What’s the point?” I asked. “Why should I go on?”
Suddenly I felt something I’d never felt before. Despite the hurtful things I’d believed about myself, I knew that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love me. They always had, and nothing I’d done had driven them away. I knew that Christ is my Savior, something I’d had a hard time believing before. I remember hearing the words “You are loved.” I’d never before felt like I could say that I knew anything with certainty. At least not until then. I knew that I was loved and valued and that I had eternal worth. I know that Jesus Christ and His Atonement are real and that He truly is my Savior. I’m grateful that even when I had turned my back on Them, He and our Heavenly Father were still there to lift me up once I was ready to reach for Them.

I will never forget the interview I had with my bishop as I was preparing for my mission. The bishop happened to be my father. We were together a great deal of the time. He could have interviewed me in our home, in the barn, in the field, or in our car, or any other place where we spent time together. Dad wanted to make this a special occasion, one that would be remembered.
One day I received a telephone call from him. He wanted to set up an appointment with me for an interview. I thought that strange because he had never called me before to set up an appointment for anything. We arranged the time to meet in the bishop’s office. When the appointed time arrived, I found his office clean and orderly without papers on the desk, which was strange because in normal circumstances it would be covered with papers. But this time, all that was on the desk were the scriptures. The interview resulted in a little scripture study between myself and my father.
As near as I can remember, the procedure was as follows: He pushed the scriptures over to my side of the desk and asked me to turn to Doctrine and Covenants 59:6 and read: “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. Thou shalt not steal; neither commit adultery, … nor do anything like unto it.”
We then discussed what it meant to be morally clean. The discussion centered on cleanliness of thought. If our thoughts remain clean and pure, we would never commit acts that would prevent us from serving in the mission field. All too common among young men today is the idea that they can sin a little, live it up with the boys, and then settle down for a short season before they are ready to be called so they can qualify themselves for missionary service. What fallacy there is in that philosophy!
The discipline contained in daily obedience and clean living and wholesome lives builds an armor around you of protection and safety from the temptations that beset you as you proceed through mortality. You can leave home with a clear conscience. Now, there may be some of you who have already given in to the ways of the world. The only way to regain your self-respect is the process called repentance. Always remember that with the help of your bishop there is a way back. Do not hesitate to use it!
Next we turned and read from the Doctrine and Covenants, section 89, verses 18 through 21:
“And all saints who remember to keep and do these sayings, walking in obedience to the commandments, shall receive health in their navel and marrow to their bones;
“And shall find wisdom and great treasures of knowledge, even hidden treasures;
“And shall run and not be weary, and shall walk and not faint.
“And I, the Lord, give unto them a promise, that the destroying angel shall pass by them, as the children of Israel, and not slay them. Amen.”
The discussion which followed centered around the importance of keeping our physical bodies healthy, wholesome homes for our eternal spirits. Harmful drugs and drinks destroy both the mind and the body and make us unfit for the guidance of the Spirit of the Lord.
We read other scriptures concerning sustaining the prophets and obedience to living the laws of the Lord. After each discussion, I was required to respond as to whether my life was in harmony with this principle.
Then finally we turned and read together Doctrine and Covenants 110, verses 1 through 4:
“The veil was taken from our minds, and the eyes of our understanding were opened.
“We saw the Lord standing upon the breastwork of the pulpit, before us; and under his feet was a paved work of pure gold, in color like amber.
“His eyes were as a flame of fire; the hair of his head was white like the pure snow; his countenance shone above the brightness of the sun; and his voice was as the sound of the rushing of great waters, even the voice of Jehovah, saying:
“I am the first and the last; I am he who liveth, I am He who was slain; I am your advocate with the Father.”
We then talked about the eternal hope that we have in the atonement of our Lord and Savior, and the necessity of partaking of sacred ordinances required for all of our Father in Heaven’s children before we can receive the greatest gift he has given to us, the gift of life eternal.
Dad then filled out my missionary recommendation form and had me sign it. Standing, he gave me a warm handshake and a sincere congratulations for being worthy to serve a full-time mission. I left his office with a feeling of exhilaration. I had passed one of the most important tests of my life. I had been deemed worthy to be a full-time missionary, which signified the approval of my father, my bishop, and my Lord and Savior. As I left the office, in my mind I made a commitment to myself that I would always live worthy to pass an interview held with one of my priesthood leaders.
The interview I had with my bishop prepared me for three basic ingredients I needed to serve a mission:
First, I needed gospel knowledge as contained in the scriptures and a testimony as to their truthfulness. Daily prayer and study were essential for my preparation to serve.
Second, personal righteousness is a fundamental requirement.
Third, my bishop’s interview created in me even a greater desire to be a full-time missionary.

Mom! Dad! On Saturday can we …
… go to the rocks and minerals show?
… go to the horse show?
I really want to find a cool new rock for my collection.
I could take my sketchpad to draw the horses.
Remember, we decided we’d spend this Saturday together. But after our chores, we’ll only have time for one activity.
Why don’t you two work out a solution?
We could flip a coin, but if I lose, I’m gonna be really bored at the horse show.
Yeah, I feel the same about the rock show. … Hey! Let’s find something we both like to do!
I don’t think Mom would let us eat cupcakes all afternoon.
I’ve got an idea! That movie we’ve been wanting to see is at the dollar theater now.
Brilliant!

“Once we were in a distant stake for conference. We came to the unpretentious home of the stake president at mid-day Saturday. We knocked at the door, and it was opened by a sweet mother with a child in her arms. She was the type of mother who did not know there were maids and servants. She was not an artist’s model, nor a society woman. Her hair was dressed neatly; her clothes were modest, tastefully selected; her face was smiling; and though young, she showed the rare combination of maturity of experience and the joys of purposeful living.
“The house was small. The all-purpose room into which we were welcomed was crowded and in its center were a long table and many chairs. We freshened up in the small bedroom assigned to us, made available by ‘farming out’ to the neighbors some of the children, and we returned to this living room. She had been very busy in the kitchen. Her husband, the stake president, soon returned from his day’s labors and made us welcome and proudly introduced us to all of the children as they returned from their chores and play.
“Almost like magic the supper was ready, for ‘many hands make light work,’ and these numerous hands were deft and experienced ones. Every child gave evidence of having been taught responsibility. Each had certain duties. One child had quickly spread a tablecloth; another placed the knives and forks and spoons; and another covered them with the large plates turned upside down. (The dishes were inexpensive.) Next came large pitchers of creamy milk, high piles of sliced homemade bread, a bowl at each place, a dish of fruit from storage, and a plate of cheese.
“One child placed the chairs with backs to the table, and without confusion, we all knelt at the chairs facing the table. One young son was called on to lead in family prayer. It was extemporaneous, and he pleaded with the Lord to bless the family and their schoolwork, and the missionaries, and the bishop. He prayed for us who had come to hold conference that we would ‘preach good,’ for his father in his church responsibilities, for all the children that ‘they would be good, and kind to each other,’ and for the little cold shivering lambs being born in the lambing sheds on the hill this wintry night.
“A very little one said the blessing on the food, and thirteen plates were turned up and thirteen bowls filled, and supper proceeded. No apologies were offered for the meal, the home, the children, or the general situation. The conversation was constructive and pleasant. The children were well-behaved. These parents met every situation with calm dignity and poise.
“In these days of limited families, or childless ones, when homes often have only one or two selfish and often pampered children, homes of luxury with servants, broken homes where life moves outside the home, it was most refreshing to sit with a large family where interdependence and love and harmony were visible and where children were growing up in unselfishness. So content and comfortable were we in the heart of this sweet simplicity and wholesomeness that we gave no thought to the unmatched chairs, the worn rug, the inexpensive curtains, the numbers of souls that were to occupy the few rooms available.”