Gospel Story Finder

Ethan has also felt the power of the Holy Ghost, which has strengthened his testimony. Ethan, who is the eldest of four siblings, tells of a time when his youngest sister was baptized. “We were living here in Pennsylvania when she was baptized, and we drove up to the Susquehanna River, where Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery were baptized,” Ethan says. “My sister was baptized in that place. That experience reaffirmed what I knew—that baptism is the only way to return to Heavenly Father. It is the gate to eternal life.”

A few years ago, I was overwhelmed by my many jobs, public service, Church responsibilities, and the needs of my family. I was concerned that I was not giving any of them the attention that they needed.
On March 12, 2012 Elder David A. Bednar, came to the Dominican Republic, and I dared to ask him, “How can we attend to the affairs of the Lord, our family and all the other commitments?” He said, like a juggler’s strategy to keep all the spinning plates in motion we also must be wise in the distribution of our time so that each obligation provides quality actions.
I felt peace in his profound answer, and I desired to better organize my time, identify how to use it wisely, honor commitments and dedicate quality time to my family.

May 12. At school today some children were being mean to Billy. They were calling him names and saying unkind things. Especially Cory and Timmy. It’s because Billy is, well, different. Mom says he’s “mentally challenged.” He has a harder time learning than most children his age. But he can still go to the same school as everyone else. The teachers just help him a little more.
Anyway, I remembered what Dad had taught in family home evening, so I sat with Billy at lunch today and shared my sandwich with him. His sandwich and potato chips were soaked. Cory and Timmy had filled his lunch box full of water, then laughed and said, “We’re doing you a favor, Billy. We know you have a hard time doing things. Your lunch should go down real easy—you won’t have to chew it at all!”
May 20. Billy asked me if I wanted to go with him on his paper route after school. The other guys wanted me to play ball. So did I, but something inside me said that going with Billy was more important.
We rode our bikes. I helped carry some of the papers in a sack. Afterward, Billy bought me a soda pop. Then we went across the street and lay on the grass in the park. After a while he asked me why I wanted to be his friend, why I liked to do stuff with him. I didn’t know what to say. Finally I told him, “I guess I just like you, that’s all.”
He looked sad. “Is it because you feel sorry for me because I’m … different? Some people make fun of me because I can’t do things like other people. And some are nice because they feel sorry for me.”
I told him that I get mad when other people treat him unkindly and that at first maybe that was why I wanted to be nice. “But after a while, I started liking you because you’re you,” I said. “I like how you sound when you laugh. It makes me feel happy inside. And I like how you treat other living things. Even little things. Like the pollywogs in the creek behind the school last week. You felt bad because the sun was drying up the little ponds of water, so you put the tadpoles in that applesauce jar and moved them farther up the creek where it was deeper. Most people aren’t that kind,” I told him. “You remind me of Jesus.” His eyes got full of tears, and he didn’t say anything. He just tapped me on the arm with his fist and kept looking the other way.
June 7. Billy’s mother called me and asked if I wanted to come over and have dinner with them tonight. Billy was too shy to ask, she said, and wanted her to ask me. (Mom and Dad said it would be fine.) She also said that Billy can’t stop talking about me, that the past few weeks he’s been happier than she can ever remember. “He thinks the world of you,” she said, and she thanked me for being so good to him.
I could tell that she was crying, because her voice started breaking up. I told her that it was easy to like Billy because he was so good. I didn’t tell her, but I had been starting to feel happier inside myself than I had in a long time, and I was already happy. Dad says, “When we open our hearts to others, like Jesus did, we feel a whole different kind of joy.”
June 18. Today Billy and I saved a wild bird. A big kid named Donny, who lives close to Billy’s place, caught it and was going to hurt it. We started yelling at him, and it made him jump and the bird got away. He pushed us down, but we felt so good on the inside that it made what he did to us on the outside kind of not matter.
July 11. Our family got back this morning from a three-day trip to Buck’s Lake. I called Billy to see if we could get together, maybe go to a Saturday matinee or hike in the hills or something. His mother said he could not play … because he’d died two days ago. She began to cry, and Billy’s father got on the phone. He told me that Billy had seen a neighbor’s puppy in the street, and when he ran out to carry it to where it would be safe, he’d been hit by a car. It wasn’t the driver’s fault, Billy’s dad said. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. It just happened. I asked Dad if he could give me a blessing of comfort. I guess I’m having a hard time dealing with it.
July 12. I didn’t go to Billy’s funeral today. I just couldn’t. His parents said that they understood. I know that after we die, we will see our loved ones again, and, I believe, our close friends, too. But right now I miss him so bad! We were like brothers. I guess we are brothers. Spirit brothers. And blood brothers. I know we’re spirit brothers because we are all Heavenly Father’s children. And I know we’re blood brothers because we sat under the old fig tree in the field one day and made a pact.
Maybe we can play together in the next life. There might be creeks with tadpoles, but in heaven I’m sure there will always be enough water. Maybe a fence to sit on. And clouds to watch go by.
I know Billy’s happy where he is because he was always more of heaven than of earth. But right now I miss him so much! I will never forget him. Not ever. My mom says I will always have the memories, and so, in a sense, he will always be with me. Memories are eternal, she says, like our spirits. I guess I will always hear his laughter, then. I like that.
July 14. Billy’s parents came over today. They told me how much they appreciated what I did for him. They said that I had made the last part of his life happy and meaningful. “You were a gift from God to him,” they said. I couldn’t say anything back because it’s hard to cry and talk at the same time.
After a while, I told them that Billy was a gift from God to me. That he taught me by the way he lived the things Jesus teaches us. About loving. And caring. And showing kindness to all living things.
July 25. I checked on the tadpoles in the creek today. That’s what Billy would have done. They are doing fine. And so am I.

On the 17th of December 1996, we were able to go to the Johannesburg South Africa Temple. I felt excited, especially when I heard that our first child, a baby boy who died after just a few short days, was going to be sealed to us. I thought he was dead and gone, even though I knew he was innocent. But then for him to be sealed to us was a spiritual experience I’ll never forget.
So when people ask me how many children we have, I tell them we have eight children. They ask, “How?” I say, “Yes, the first one is waiting for us, so it’s up to us to obey the commandments of God and live them so that we can go back and be together as a family.”

How would you like to switch places with your mother for a day? That’s what the young women from Manurewa and Pukekohe in New Zealand did for a role-reversal debate.
In the role reversal, the mothers argued that girls 12 years and older should be able to do as they pleased. The young women argued that there should be reasonable limits.
There were also mother-daughter duets, followed by presentations on motherhood from both the young women and their mothers.
Heather Maloney, the mayor of Franklin, New Zealand, was one of the judges for the debate. She praised the mothers and daughters for their courage in public speaking and thanked the girls for their high standards and values and for the respect they showed in honoring their mothers.

The pathway program (now called PathwayConnect) is an inspired program brought by Church leaders to help members be blessed by the Lord in so many ways for their future. When PathwayConnect was introduced for the first time in Bangalore, I was interested to join and learn.
I work in a nationalized bank in India, and a Brigham Young University certificate is not acceptable. My Church leaders encouraged me to join, so I obeyed the leaders‘ word. I was accepted by pathway and joined others for the first ever semester to begin in India.
I can see the Lord’s hand guiding me in the pathway program. As I review my own personal change and spiritual growth that occurred during my pathway study program, I recognize that It was impossible for me to do it alone. With heaven’s aid, I was able to complete it.
During this wonderful program, my wife gave birth to a beautiful girl baby. It was a very challenging situation to balance work, travel, my Church calling, and fulfilling family responsibilities. With all these things, studying pathway was an added pressure, but I strongly felt the Lord’s hand in it. My secular education, spiritual help, and revelations were received from Him from time to time. —Ebenezer Paul Magendran, Bengaluru India

It may seem like Shellee’s got it made. Being deaf hasn’t kept her from dancing, doing well in school, or making friends. However, it has made the gospel harder for her to understand than it is for most teenagers.
Only in the last year has Shellee attended a deaf ward, so until then she had to fend for herself at church. “I never knew how much she was actually getting,” says Janell Frost, one of Shellee’s Primary and Young Women teachers.
Fortunately, Pleasant Grove High School has a deaf seminary teacher whose class Shellee can attend. “Seminary has helped me a lot,” she says. “For example, I didn’t know I would live again after I die. I was so happy because then I knew I would see Grandma again.” Shellee hadn’t been able to grasp that concept until then, although she has always been an active member of the Church.
Reading the scriptures is hard for Shellee because of the vocabulary. She doesn’t recognize words from having heard them in conversation; she has to learn each word individually by looking it up. Words like nevertheless are hard enough to understand when you’ve heard other people use them. How is a deaf person to understand it without help?
Shellee’s seminary teacher is helping to solve this problem with drawings. She has her students draw pictures in their scriptures that go along with the stories so they can have a better idea of what is going on. “It helps a lot,” Shellee says.
In part, Shellee wants to go on a mission because she has had a difficult time understanding the gospel principles. “I want to go on a deaf mission so I can learn more. I want to help those who are lost.”
Whether they are obvious or not, we all have our barriers to overcome—even smart, outgoing, cheerleaders who accidentally leave their radios blaring. But when we work together and keep on trying, those barriers come crumbling down.

Now, from the life of another brave believer. On December 27, 2013, Alicia Schroeder joyfully welcomed her dear friends Sean and Sharla Chilcote, who unexpectedly showed up on her doorstep. Sean, who was also Alicia’s bishop, handed her his cell phone and solemnly said, “Alicia, we love you. You need to take this call.”

Alicia’s husband, Mario, was on the phone. He was in a remote area with some of their children on a long-anticipated snowmobile trip. There had been a terrible accident. Mario was seriously injured, and their 10-year-old son, Kaleb, was gone. When Mario tearfully told Alicia of Kaleb’s death, she was overcome with a shock and horror few of us will ever know. It dropped her. Paralyzed with unspeakable anguish, Alicia could neither move nor speak.

Bishop and Sister Chilcote quickly lifted her up and held her. They wept and deeply grieved together for some time. Then Bishop Chilcote offered to give Alicia a blessing.

What happened next is incomprehensible without some understanding of the Atonement of Jesus Christ and the immediate goodness of God. Bishop Chilcote gently placed his hands on Alicia’s head and, with quivering voice, began to speak. Alicia heard two things as though spoken by God Himself. First, she heard her name, Alicia Susan Schroeder. Then she heard the bishop invoke the authority of Almighty God. In that instant—at the mere utterance of her name and God’s power—Alicia was filled with an indescribable peace, love, comfort, and somehow joy. And it has continued with her.

Now, of course, Alicia, Mario, and their family still mourn for and miss Kaleb. It is hard! Whenever I speak with her, Alicia’s eyes well up with tears as she tells how much she loves and misses her little boy. And her eyes remain moist as she tells how the Great Deliverer has sustained her through every bit of her ordeal, beginning with His immediate goodness during her deepest despair and continuing now with the bright hope of a sweet reunion that is “not many days hence.”

For several months our family had been planning a vacation to a theme park. We had been doing chores and saving our allowance to have spending money. We were counting the days.
At the beginning of May, we held a family council where Mom reviewed our family budget and explained that money was tight. Dad presented a travel budget, and we realized that we couldn’t go on the trip without going into debt. We had a hard decision to make. We could go to the park and add to our debt, or wait until we could pay it off and save enough for next year. We talked about the prophet’s counsel to get out of debt and stay out of debt. Although it was a very difficult decision and some of us even cried, we chose to wait till next year.
We still wish we could go this year, but we are happy that we are following the prophet and know that we will be blessed for doing it.

I had the privilege of spending four weeks in Kofu, Japan, with my good friend Yuki and her family. Having the Spirit as my guide helped me to share my beliefs with Yuki.
One day I purchased a small Church hymnbook in Japanese at the distribution center. A few days later I felt impressed to give Yuki my hymnbook. I thought about how weird this was because I had purchased the hymnbook for myself and not for her. Nevertheless, I gave her the hymnbook. I felt a little better, knowing I had done what I was prompted to do.
A while later, we were playing music downstairs, and Yuki told me she wanted to sing the hymns. I played some of the hymns on the piano while she sang in Japanese. I had a feeling of pure joy listening to my friend singing the songs I knew so well. Even though I did not know all the words to follow along, the Spirit was strong. I am very grateful I followed the promptings of the Spirit.

During my college days, I was one of a class of students appointed to fieldwork as a part of our prescribed courses in geology—the science that deals with the earth in all of its varied aspects and phases, but more particularly with its component rocks, the structural features they present, the changes they have undergone and are undergoing—the science of worlds.
A certain assignment had kept us in the field many days. We had traversed, examined, and charted miles of lowlands and uplands, valleys and hills, mountain heights and canyon defiles. As the time allotted to the investigation drew near its close, we were overtaken by a violent windstorm, followed by a heavy snow—unseasonable and unexpected, but which, nevertheless, increased in intensity so that we were in danger of being snowbound in the hills. The storm reached its height while we were descending a long and steep mountainside several miles from the little railway station at which we had hoped to take [a] train that night for home. With great effort we reached the station late at night while the storm was yet raging. We were suffering from the intense cold incident to biting wind and driving snow; and, to add to our discomfiture, we learned that the expected train had been stopped by snowdrifts a few miles from the little station at which we waited.
… The train for which we so expectantly and hopefully waited was the Owl Express—a fast night train connecting large cities. Its time schedule permitted stops at but few and these the most important stations; but, as we knew, it had to stop at this out-of-the-way post to replenish the water supply of the locomotive.
Long after midnight the train arrived in a terrific whirl of wind and snow. I lingered behind my companions as they hurriedly clambered aboard, for I was attracted by the engineer, who during the brief stop, while his assistant was attending to the water replenishment, bustled about the engine, oiling some parts, adjusting others, and generally overhauling the panting locomotive. I ventured to speak to him, busy though he was. I asked how he felt on such a night—wild, weird, and furious, when the powers of destruction seemed to be let loose, abroad and uncontrolled, when the storm was howling and when danger threatened from every side. I thought of the possibility—the probability even—of snowdrifts or slides on the track, of bridges and high trestles which may have been loosened by the storm, of rock masses dislodged from the mountainside—of these and other possible obstacles. I realized that in the event of accident through obstruction on or disruption of the track, the engineer and the fireman would be the ones most exposed to danger; a violent collision would most likely cost them their lives. All of these thoughts and others I expressed in hasty questioning of the bustling, impatient engineer.
His answer was a lesson not yet forgotten. In effect he said, though in jerky and disjointed sentences: “Look at the engine headlight. Doesn’t that light up the track for a hundred yards [90 m] or more? Well, all I try to do is to cover that hundred yards of lighted track. That I can see, and for that distance I know the roadbed is open and safe. And,” he added, with what, through the swirl and the dim lamplighted darkness of the roaring night, I saw was a humorous smile on his lips and a merry twinkle of his eye, “believe me, I have never been able to drive this old engine of mine—God bless her!—so fast as to outstrip that hundred yards of lighted track. The light of the engine is always ahead of me!”
As he climbed to his place in the cab, I hastened to board the first passenger coach; and as I sank into the cushioned seat, in blissful enjoyment of the warmth and general comfort, offering strong contrast to the wildness of the night without, I thought deeply of the words of the grimy, oil-stained engineer. They were full of faith—the faith that accomplishes great things, the faith that gives courage and determination, the faith that leads to works. What if the engineer had failed, had yielded to fright and fear, had refused to go on because of the threatening dangers? Who knows what work may have been hindered, what great plans may have been nullified, what God-appointed commissions of mercy and relief may have been thwarted had the engineer weakened and quailed?

One Sunday afternoon a few years ago, Benjamin’s dad gave him a piece of paper and suggested that he make something for family home evening. Now every Sunday Benjamin gets out his craft box and makes a project. He has made models of scripture stories like Jonah and the whale and Noah’s ark. It’s always a surprise to see what he will come up with.
Benjamin likes sharing his projects in family home evening. And when it’s time to sing the opening song, Benjamin volunteers to conduct it.

The summer of 1870 in the valley of the Great Salt Lake was a good time to be alive and to be sixteen years old! The original settlement was becoming a bustling city, and there was work for a willing and able hand. That’s just what young Robert Hemphill Gillespie was. Bob had gained a reputation as a good hand with horses and cattle and as a hard worker.
Bob already had a fine horse and the necessary gear for it. This was quite an accomplishment for such a young man, especially one who had been on his own with no home or parents since he was nine. He had proven himself to be trustworthy and dependable, and people liked to hire him.
One fine June day, Bob accepted a job that required him to cross a hundred miles of the Great Salt Lake Desert. Today, one can cross this desert in a comfortable, air-conditioned car on a fine paved highway in less than two hours. But on that day 130 years ago, it was just Bob and his horse with the sand, heat, lizards, snakes, and only the water he carried with him. Friends had told him to “be sure and take along some water,” so he filled a three-quart canteen and set off.
Now, Bob had never crossed a desert before and didn’t realize the danger of needing water and having no place to get it. He used up all that he had before even half the distance was covered. When he and his horse began to really suffer, Bob figured they still had about sixty miles to go.
He thought, Oh, if only I had saved some of the water! It was warm, but it was wet! If only I hadn’t hung the canteen strap over my shoulder, where it was so handy, I might have just a little left now!
He became very aware of how hot it was that June. He thought of all those swallows of water he had kept taking, not in real need as he was now! In desperate hope, he turned the canteen upside down above his mouth once more. The water really was all gone! Fear made him urge his horse to go faster—for a while. Then he noticed that his horse was sweating, so he slowed it down.
Soon his tongue had swelled so much that he couldn’t close his mouth. His fine horse was suffering, too. Strings of saliva hung from its mouth. We have to have water! Bob said to himself.
He thought he could see a small cabin off to the side of the trail up in some small hills. He couldn’t believe it! A cabin. A cabin meant there would be water! He immediately turned his mount in that direction. Riding up to the cabin, he found it deserted. There was a hole in the ground nearby, like an old well or a mining shaft. It was walled around with cedar logs. There appeared to be a little water about thirty feet down, so Bob climbed down inside. Sure enough, there was a little water! There were also some dead birds, a dead rabbit, and maggots! The water was bad. Sorrowing, Bob climbed back out, mounted his horse, and took to the trail again.
He remembered his mother teaching him to pray many years ago when he was a small child. He had not prayed for quite some time but decided to do it then. Looking around for a suitable place, he left the trail again. He found a large, low place that must have been either a wash made by runoff water long ago or a buffalo wallow. He dismounted, knelt, and began to pray, pleading for water: “For a drink, Lord. Yes, and a drink for my poor horse, too! My fine, good horse! Please, Lord!”
Bob thought of rain. “God, canst thou send rain, please?” he prayed. “Please forgive me, Lord, but we need a drink. Please make it rain. Thank thee, Lord. Amen.”
Having finished his prayer, Bob felt a little better. He climbed back up on his horse and rode off again, still filled with thoughts of the heat, his thirst, and his horse’s thirst. Oh, my poor horse! He agonized. I love my horse. I love my horse!
Recalling that he had asked for rain, Bob began to scan the sky for clouds. All he could find was one small cloud, far over on the southwest edge of the horizon. It seemed only about as big as a saddle blanket. He watched that cloud closely, wondering and thinking. After a bit, he noticed a little wind coming toward him from the direction of that little cloud. Could it be that it was drifting their way? It did seem a bit larger now, too. “Yes, Lord,” he said aloud, “I prayed for rain.”
Soon a drop of water hit his hand, another hit the saddle horn, another hit the horse, and another hit his hand. Suddenly there came a cloudburst from that little puff of a cloud! Within a few minutes, water was coursing down the trail and in the little ravine beside the trail, reaching almost to the horse’s knees! The horse bowed his head and drank. Bob dismounted, lay on his belly, and drank his fill of the muddy water. Then he refilled his canteen. Refreshed, he and his mount continued on their way.
After riding just a short distance, the trail and the ground all around were hot, dry, and dusty again. It was then that Bob fully realized what had happened. Halting his horse, he again dismounted and knelt on the dusty trail. Again he prayed with a full heart: “Thank Thee, Lord, for making the rain from a small cloud in the desert in June, so my horse and I could get a drink.”
Bob told this experience many times to his children and grandchildren, until he died at the age of eighty-six. They never tired of hearing it and have passed it on to their children and grandchildren. The thrilling moment was when he bore his testimony: “Now, children, don’t ever let anyone make you believe that the Lord can’t answer your prayer, for I know that He can!”

Colonel Thomas L. Kane, in a speech before the Historical Society of Philadelphia, gave this graphic picture of Nauvoo:
“A few years ago, ascending the upper Mississippi in the autumn, when its waters were low, I was compelled to travel by land past the region of the rapids. My road lay through the Half Breed tract, a fine section of Iowa, which the unsettled state of its land titles had appropriated as a sanctuary for coiners, horse thieves and other outlaws. I had left my steamer at Keokuk at the foot of the lower falls, to hire a carriage and to contend for some fragments of a dirty meal with the swarming flies, the only scavengers of the locality.
“From this place to where the deep water of the river returns my eye wearied to see everywhere sordid vagabonds and idle settlers, and a country marred without being improved by their careless hands. I was descending the last hillside upon my journey, when a landscape in delightful contrast broke upon my view. Half encircled by a bend of the river, a beautiful city lay glittering in the fresh morning sun. Its bright new dwellings [were] set in cool green gardens ranging up around a stately dome-shaped hill, which was crowned by a noble marble edifice, whose high tapering spire was radiant with white and gold. The city appeared to cover several miles, and beyond it, in the background, there rolled off a fair country chequered by the careful lines of fruitful husbandry. The unmistakable marks of industry, enterprise and educated wealth everywhere, made the scene one of singular and most striking beauty” (Memoirs of John R. Young, Utah Pioneer, 1847, Salt Lake City: The Deseret News, 1920, p. 31).

When I was a little girl, my parents took my sister and me to an orchard owned by the Church. We were there to help pick peaches. We climbed up on tall ladders and reached through thick leaves to pick the peaches off the trees.
At first, we were excited. But soon the fuzz on the fruit made our arms all itchy! We told our mom, “We don’t want to do this anymore. We want to stop.”
My mom asked us if we knew where all the peaches went. When we said no, she explained it to us.
“Each of these peaches is taken to a building where volunteers put them in cans. Then those cans are given to people who need food. Each year the Church donates thousands of cans of food.”
All of a sudden, my sister and I stopped worrying about our itchy arms. We were helping people who needed food! After that, we had fun climbing up the ladders and picking the fuzzy orange fruit.

Personal revelation is the profound blessing received following baptism when we are “sanctified by the reception of the Holy Ghost.” I can remember a special spiritual revelation when I was 15 years old. My precious brother was seeking guidance from the Lord as to how to respond to our dear father, who did not want my brother to serve a mission. I prayed with sincere intent too and received personal revelation of the truthfulness of the gospel.

Personal revelation is based on spiritual truths received from the Holy Ghost. The Holy Ghost is the revealer and testifier of all truth, especially that of the Savior. Without the Holy Ghost, we could not really know that Jesus is the Christ. His seminal role is to bear witness of the Father and the Son and Their titles and Their glory.
The Holy Ghost can influence everyone in a powerful way. This influence will not be constant unless one is baptized and receives the gift of the Holy Ghost. The Holy Ghost serves also as a cleansing agent in the process of repentance and forgiveness.
The Spirit communicates in marvelous ways. The Lord used this beautiful description:
“I will tell you in your mind and in your heart, by the Holy Ghost, which shall come upon you and which shall dwell in your heart.
“Now, behold, this is the spirit of revelation.”
Although its impact can be incredibly powerful, it most often comes quietly as a still, small voice. The scriptures include many examples of how the Spirit influences our minds, including speaking peace to our minds, occupying our minds, enlightening our minds, and even sending a voice to our minds.
Some principles that prepare us to receive revelation include:
Praying for spiritual guidance. Reverently and humbly we need to seek and ask and be patient and submissive.
Preparing for inspiration. This requires that we be in harmony with the Lord’s teachings and in compliance with His commandments.
Partaking of the sacrament worthily. When we do this, we witness and covenant with God that we take upon ourselves the name of His holy Son and that we remember Him and keep His commandments.
These principles prepare us to receive, recognize, and follow the prompting and guidance of the Holy Ghost. This includes the “peaceable things … which bringeth joy [and] … life eternal.”
Our spiritual preparation is greatly enhanced when we regularly study the scriptures and truths of the gospel and ponder in our minds the guidance we seek. But remember to be patient and trust in the Lord’s timing. Guidance is given by an omniscient Lord when He “deliberately chooses to school us.”
The Holy Ghost will also provide revelation in our callings and assignments. In my experience, significant spiritual guidance most often comes when we are trying to bless others in fulfilling our responsibilities.
I can remember as a young bishop receiving a desperate call from a married couple a short time before I was to catch an airplane for a business engagement. I pled with the Lord before their arrival to know how I could bless them. It was revealed to me the nature of the problem and the response I should give. That revelatory guidance allowed me to fulfill the sacred responsibilities of my calling as bishop despite very limited availability of time. Bishops all over the world also share these same kinds of experiences with me. As a stake president, I not only received important revelation but also received personal correction that was necessary to accomplish the Lord’s purposes.
I assure you that revelatory guidance can be received by each of us as we humbly labor in the Lord’s vineyard. Most of our guidance comes from the Holy Ghost. Sometimes and for some purposes, it comes directly from the Lord. I personally testify that this is true. Guidance for the Church, as a whole, comes to the President and prophet of the Church.
We, as modern Apostles, have had the privilege of working and traveling with our current prophet, President Nelson. I paraphrase what Wilford Woodruff said about the Prophet Joseph Smith; it is equally true of President Nelson. I have seen “the workings of the Spirit of God with him, and the revelations of Jesus Christ unto him and the fulfillment of those revelations.”
My humble plea today is that each of us will seek continuing revelation to guide our lives and follow the Spirit as we worship God the Father in the name of our Savior, Jesus Christ, of whom I bear witness in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

One day I was working at my kitchen sink. The window above it was wide open to let in the springtime. And I could keep an eye and ear on our preschooler son playing in the garden below. Suddenly he and the little girl he was with changed their plans of play. Mischief was surfacing. So 1 called to him to come in. He didn’t come. I called again. No response. I called a third time before I put down my dish towel and went outside to get him.
“Why didn’t you answer me?” I confronted him sternly. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“Sort of.”
“Sort of? Why didn’t you come when I called?”
And then came the punch line, “But, mom, she talked louder. Her mouth was in my ear!”
A teaching moment was at hand. I had to help him understand about voices—about loud voices and small voices, good voices and not so good ones, and about whose to listen to when. And why.
You see, our little boy ignored my voice and justified it on the basis of “her voice was louder—it was in my ear.” That was surely true. But that voice was leading him astray. He was still a child and hadn’t learned the voice-sorting process yet. He hadn’t learned to evaluate. But he wasn’t accountable yet, either. We all are. We are no longer children who see through the glass darkly. We have been baptized, confirmed by proper authority, and we have been given the gift of the Holy Ghost to help us know good from evil. The expectations for our performance are higher.

Illustration by Greg Newbold
A couple of months ago, I was talking to a friend about some struggles in my life. She was kind and listened to me, but after I told her everything, she asked me three questions: “Are you reading your scriptures daily?” I said no. “Are you praying daily?” I said no. She told me this was part of my problem and challenged me to read the Book of Mormon with an open heart and to pray about my questions before I read. I accepted her invitation to read and pray every day. Then she asked her third question.
“What do you see when you look in the mirror?”
I didn’t know how to respond. I finally said, “I see a naïve, lost boy.” That’s what I thought I saw, but she said I was wrong.
Every day for the next few weeks, I thought about that question. It bothered me that she said I was wrong. About what? I realized that I could figure it out if I had regular scripture study with meaningful prayer. It took me a while to establish a schedule where I was reading and praying on most days of the week, but I did.
A few weeks later, some thoughts came to me while I was mowing the lawn. They taught me about the real person I see in the mirror:
I see a young man who decided to come to this earth to face the fiercest evils and the darkest nights. I see a son of God, a child of Heavenly Father. I see a disciple of Jesus Christ, who will always help His followers. I see a young man with family and friends who will stand beside him.
I may feel lost and confused sometimes, but I don’t have to live life alone. Satan may try his hardest to succeed, but in the end he will fail. And in the end, I can see myself walking up to Heavenly Father and hearing Him say, “You have served me well, my son. Welcome home.”
When I had these thoughts, I immediately pulled out my phone and recorded what I’d felt, because I thought I’d forget by the time I found a pencil and paper. For the rest of the day, I couldn’t help but smile.
I told my friend what I had found out, and she was happy I had found the answer. I now understand my relationship with Heavenly Father and know that I never have to be alone.

God is anxious to help us feel His love wherever we are. Let me give an example.

As a young missionary I was assigned to a small island of about 700 inhabitants in a remote area of the South Pacific. To me the heat was oppressive, the mosquitoes were terrible, the mud was everywhere, the language was impossible, and the food was—well, “different.”

After a few months our island was struck by a powerful hurricane. The devastation was massive. Crops were ruined, lives were lost, housing was blown away, and the telegraph station—our only link to the outside world—was destroyed. A small government boat normally came every month or two, so we rationed our food to last four or five weeks, hoping the boat would come. But no boat came. Every day we became weaker. There were acts of great kindness, but as the sixth and seventh weeks passed with very little food, our strength slipped noticeably. My native companion, Feki, helped me in every way he could, but as the eighth week commenced, I had no energy. I just sat under the shade of a tree and prayed and read scriptures and spent hours and hours pondering the things of eternity.

The ninth week began with little outward change. However, there was a great inward change. I felt the Lord’s love more deeply than ever before and learned firsthand that His love “is the most desirable above all things … yea, and the most joyous to the soul” (1 Nephi 11:22–23).

I was pretty much skin and bones by now. I remember watching, with deep reverence, my heart beating, my lungs breathing, and thinking what a marvelous body God has created to house our equally marvelous spirit! The thought of a permanent union of these two elements, made possible through the Savior’s love, atoning sacrifice, and Resurrection, was so inspiring and satisfying that any physical discomfort faded into oblivion.

When we understand who God is, who we are, how He loves us, and what His plan is for us, fear evaporates. When we get the tiniest glimpse of these truths, our concern over worldly things vanishes. To think we actually fall for Satan’s lies that power, fame, or wealth is important is truly laughable—or would be were it not so sad.

I learned that just as rockets must overcome the pull of gravity to roar into space, so we must overcome the pull of the world to soar into the eternal realms of understanding and love. I realized my mortal life might end there, but there was no panic. I knew life would continue, and whether here or there didn’t really matter. What did matter was how much love I had in my heart. I knew I needed more! I knew that our joy now and forever is inextricably tied to our capacity to love.

As these thoughts filled and lifted my soul, I gradually became aware of some excited voices. My companion Feki’s eyes were dancing as he said, “Kolipoki, a boat has arrived, and it is full of food. We are saved! Aren’t you excited?” I wasn’t sure, but since the boat had come, that must be God’s answer, so yes, I was happy. Feki gave me some food and said, “Here, eat.” I hesitated. I looked at the food. I looked at Feki. I looked into the sky and closed my eyes.

I felt something very deep. I was grateful my life here would go on as before; still, there was a wistful feeling—a subtle sense of postponement, as when darkness closes the brilliant colors of a perfect sunset and you realize you must wait for another evening to again enjoy such beauty.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to open my eyes, but when I did I realized that God’s love had changed everything. The heat, the mud, the mosquitoes, the people, the language, the food were no longer challenges. Those who had tried to harm me were no longer my enemies. Everyone was my brother or sister. Being filled with God’s love is the most joyous of all things and is worth every cost.

Now go back again with me in your thoughts to the church building about which we spoke earlier with its sign of “Spiritual Fuel Available—No Rationing—No Stamps—No Quotas—Come and Prepare.” Each one of us undoubtedly has a different building in mind. Perhaps yours is the one you attend most frequently—your own ward or branch.
The one I have in mind today is the Masterton Ward in the Wellington New Zealand Stake. We had the opportunity of dedicating this choice house of worship in February. Never have I been in a building so immaculately clean. It looked new. It smelled new. It was beautiful in its appropriate simplicity. It was worthy in appearance to be dedicated to the Lord. It was built by our people.
It was paid for by our people. It was polished to a fine finish by hands that took pride. It was tastefully landscaped and structurally sound. According to the town mayor, a nonmember, it was built by people who are happy. Three weeks before our arrival it was predicted by some that it couldn’t possibly be ready for dedication. Those so inclined to doubt didn’t know this good bishop and his ward family—people of humble circumstances but powerfully committed. Walls were painted, floors waxed, and so on by parents when their children had been put to sleep for the night. Young boys, appropriately encouraged, carried buckets of water to make the lawns green and the flowers bloom around the chapel, because New Zealand had been long without rain. It was not only completed, it was shining! Here was a group of people accumulating oil for their lamps a drop at a time through sacrifice, preparation, cooperation, faith, and works. As these ward members worked together to meet the midnight hour, their love for each other was nurtured. They, too, shined in their triumph.