Gospel Story Finder

Elder Quentin L. Cook was nervous when he was called to be a General Authority. He didn’t know if he would be able to do everything he needed to.
Then Elder Neal A. Maxwell, one of the Apostles at the time, told Elder Cook something that helped him feel better. Elder Maxwell reminded him that the most important thing was knowing how to bear his testimony of the Savior. This would help Elder Cook be ready to lead and serve in the Church.
When Elder Cook heard this, he felt peaceful inside. He thought about how much he loved the Savior and the many times he had been able to share his testimony. He was excited to keep sharing his testimony of the Savior with the world. He wasn’t afraid anymore. The Holy Ghost had helped him feel comfort instead of fear.

My final example is a personal one that occurred in my second year as a professor. I had worked closely with a colleague on research the prior year at a different institution. Our combined efforts had led to the publication of several articles and a book. My colleague had also developed a set of computer programs implementing the work we had been doing. During that second year, he and I taught an executive seminar as part of our consulting work. Unfortunately, my colleague had a “buyer beware” attitude, and when one of the participants asked my colleague if the computer programs were included in the cost of the seminar, he answered yes, saying that he would mail them out later.

Subsequently, my colleague decided that the programs were too valuable to include in the price of the seminar. Although I wasn’t aware he’d decided that, that same seminar participant called an associate dean at my university and complained. The associate dean asked me about it, and needless to say, I was both shocked and embarrassed. With my colleague’s reluctant permission, I sent a copy of the programs to that participant, but more importantly, I decided life was too short to do consulting work with someone who had a different standard than I had, and I never did another seminar with that colleague.

I used to wear my headphones throughout the day, listening to music or YouTube. I wore them while eating dinner sometimes, insisting to my parents that I could still hear them. I noticed people wearing them during youth activities and thought maybe I should too. But I soon noticed that I was spending way too much time on my headphones and phone and not enough time on important things.
I didn’t want to put my headphones before Jesus Christ. I knew I needed to make a change. Instead of listening to random music in the morning, I listened to the youth song “I Am a Disciple of Christ” while reading my scriptures. As the singer bore testimony about Christ, I felt my testimony grow. I noticed I felt happier, and my relationship with Christ grew stronger. The lyrics often stayed with me throughout the day, reminding me to act and be a disciple of Christ.
While I didn’t fully take my headphones out of my day, I started wearing them less. By changing my unhealthy habit, I was able to put Jesus Christ first.
I know that even changing something as small as an unhealthy headphone habit can draw you closer to Christ.

I was drifting off to sleep the night before a trip when I received an impression to buy a rim and a tire for our 15-year-old minivan, which came without a spare. The next day I was busy and forgot about the impression. We loaded the vehicle with our three children and gear and headed to my dad’s house four hours away.
On the way, a tire on the van blew. We had the van towed to the nearest town to replace the tire. It cost three times what it would have to buy a rim and tire at home, and we lost 90 minutes waiting. I gained an appreciation for the promptings of the Spirit and decided to better follow them in the future.

It was a fall day in Wyoming. The majestic Tetons rising high into the blue sky were delicately mirrored in Jackson Lake—a breathtakingly beautiful setting for the beginning of a high adventure canoe trip down the 98 miles of the rugged Snake River. True to its name, the river curled its way through a wilderness area abundant with wildlife. There would be few roads and only occasional trails.
Excitement was high, and hearts seemed to be beating a little faster than usual as the 19 Scout leader fathers and their 16-year-old sons waited on the river bank at Moran to begin their canoe trip down the Snake River.
Two tanned, tall, river-experienced 19-year-old young men would be our guides—one at the head of the group and the other following close behind. Their every word of instruction and warning was caught by ears that were straining to learn. There was a bit of apprehension as they warned about whirlpools, with their circling current, that could take a canoe and its occupants down under. There was also the instruction about approaching and riding through the white water areas. The main word of instruction was, “Whatever you do, don’t unbalance your canoe.” We resolved and it was our intention that we would do everything the guides had instructed us to do. We would stroke evenly on each side; we would kneel up all the way so we could move easily and keep the canoe in balance.
As the leader responsible for the group, I seemed to be having some second thoughts as I listened to the safety precautions the guides were giving us. I remembered a newscast a few days before telling of a father who had fallen from his canoe while going through a rapid and had struck his head on a rock and had drowned before he could be recovered, even though he had his life jacket properly in place.
The lead guide gracefully slipped his canoe into the water and glided effortlessly out into the river. In turn, each canoe, with father and son in place, followed. It was a beautiful day—the fresh clear air was invigorating; the clear blue sky with an occasional white billowy cloud added to the beauty of the surroundings. The water was clear and the river flowed smoothly along. The spruce and pine trees, together with grass and shrubs, made each turn of the river one of artistic beauty. The first ten miles were so enjoyable that most of the fear and concern faded away.
As we looked ahead, we could see another stream emptying into the main river. We could see the whirlpool signs, and we became more alert as we approached the junction point. All of a sudden there was an excited cry ahead: “Look at the moose!” I wanted to see the moose, so I whirled around and caught a fleeting glimpse of it with its large flat antlers just as I was going headfirst into the Snake River.
The water was cold; the rocks were hard. I struggled to get to the surface. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind: “I wonder where my son Dave is. How will I find our canoe? Can I find my paddle?”
As I swam toward the shore, I caught sight of Dave right ahead making his way to the bank. I lost my hat and all of the suntan lotion and the dark glasses I had in my pocket. But I was glad to get out of the cold water and again get back in the canoe so we could keep up with the others.
After that, they could have said “Look!” at a thousand moose and we would not have turned around to look. We looked straight ahead. There were miles of rapids and white water, and we went safely through. We didn’t look to the left or to the right. In fact, one rapid was so severe that one canoe in trying to negotiate it tipped over backward.
The father was heavier than his 16-year-old son, and he was in the back. They had not intended to unbalance the canoe, but they did. They got wet just the same. Intention is not enough!
The Lord has said, “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise” (D&C 82:10).
Yes, again, intention is not enough.
On another occasion as Joshua was being installed as the leader of Israel to replace Moses, who was being released, the Lord gave Joshua the key. He said, “There shall not any man be able to stand before thee all the days of thy life: as I was with Moses, so I will be with thee: I will not fail thee, nor forsake thee. …
“Only be thou strong and very courageous, that thou mayest observe to do according to all the law, which Moses my servant commanded thee: turn not from it to the right hand or to the left, that thou mayest prosper whithersoever thou goest.” (Josh. 1:5, 7.)
Joshua was told to do according to all the law.
On another occasion with Helaman’s stripling warriors, their success was based on this same key.
“Yea, and they did obey and observe to perform every word of command with exactness; yea, and even according to their faith it was done unto them” (Alma 57:21).
They did “perform every word of command with exactness.” The key to their success was to obey every word and command. Yes, if we are going to draw upon the powers of heaven, intention is not enough.
We must obey every word of command with exactness. Remember these words of the Lord:
“I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise” (D&C 82:10).
We must actually obey the law; intention is not enough!

A video shown during the general Young Women meeting featured counsel from President Thomas S. Monson—as well as comments from a group of young women and their leader about an experience they had learning to seek and receive the Lord’s guidance.
Last summer our young women had a burning question. They wanted to know what the official position of the Church was relative to swimsuits. Rather than give them an answer that we were inclined to give them ourselves, we determined that we’d be wiser, as their leaders, to turn them to the Source. They could ask; they could find out for themselves and have a process and an understanding of how it feels and how it works to seek and to get information from heaven personally so that they could replicate that process later in their lives.
When we first started out, I just thought, “Well, OK. It’s just another assignment to take home and study on.”
This experience helped me come closer to Heavenly Father.
It’ll help me too when I am older with my own daughters.
As soon as I started really searching for the answer, it came really quickly.
As we looked at this from a doctrinal point of view, there was no more fundamental source than the scriptures.
At first I really tried to find the answer in the scriptures, and it didn’t seem to be there.
But as I got deeper in the subject, I felt myself wanting to learn more and find out more.
I kept on finding all these scriptures about modesty, like a virtuous woman is modest, and at first, that didn’t make sense to me. And then prayer—I was kind of expecting specific answers through prayer, and I wasn’t getting them. And then as I realized, after I got my answer, prayer just brought the Spirit and the scriptures did have the answer all along, that [modesty] was more of an attitude.
I’ve gotten some answers, but they weren’t very specific, of course, because I always have to do my part and learn for myself.
And I was expecting to be told, “This is what you can wear. This is what you can’t wear.” I didn’t want it to be like [it is] because then it was my choice and I didn’t have the exact rules. But I actually am really grateful now that that is the answer that I got because I think that’s much more applicable to all the girls around the world.
I just felt myself becoming closer to my Heavenly Father, and my heart just grew, and especially with these girls, finding out everything that they went through to find their answers just made my heart swell for all of them; I have so much love for all of them.
As we engaged in this process together and shared our hearts and received inspiration and felt the effect of the Spirit, we became something different. They learned that Heavenly Father cares about what they care about. They learned that He loves them. They learned that whatever they ask, He’ll listen and He’ll answer.
I think that through this process I’ve kind of realized that getting answers is not just a once-in-a-lifetime thing, that it’s something I can use all the time. And in order to get those answers, I have to be steadfast in saying my prayers and in reading my scriptures and continuously keep that Spirit with me.
I can pray to Him whenever I need to, and He is there for me, no matter what. He is always by me, and He is always helping me through every situation.
Whenever I feel sad or whenever I need help, I can always ask Him.
I know who I am, and I know what I stand for, and I know how I feel when I wear the right kind of clothing. And I know that if I dress modestly that I can be closer to my Heavenly Father and closer to the Spirit.
It’s an amazing realization when you look back through my journal and find out that almost every day I’ve had prayers answered and my questions answered through the Lord.
We can find truth in the scriptures, the teachings of the prophets, the instructions from our parents, and the inspiration that comes to us as we bend our knees and seek the help of God.
Sometimes the best answers that young people can get to the questions of life are found when they are upon their knees calling upon our Heavenly Father.
And I testify that if they will remember that the Lord is mindful of them and will answer their prayers, they will be able to meet every challenge that comes to them.

The fresh mountain air cooled my lungs as I laced up my boots. Next to me, my horse whinnied impatiently.
“I know, girl. I’m coming,” I said soothingly, as I stroked her reddish-brown mane.
I finished fastening the saddle, mounted, and was off. As I rode up the mountain, I thought of all the troubles that were weighing on my mind. I was a junior in high school—worried about friends, sports, final exams, and where to apply for college. Hundreds of thoughts swirled around in my brain. There were simply too many problems; I would never be able to solve them all. That’s really why I had come to the mountains. I needed to escape for a while.
After a time, I arrived at my favorite spot—a small out-of-the-way clearing that overlooks a mountain valley. I stopped my horse and said a small prayer in my heart.
“Heavenly Father,” I prayed, “I am so tired and so overwhelmed. Please give me some comfort. I just need a little peace.”
The answer came almost immediately. “Look up.”
As I raised my eyes, I was met with a scene of such astonishing beauty that I could scarcely breathe. All of my problems seemed to melt away as I soaked up the view. The farms in the valley were laid out like squares in a patchwork quilt, and on that day in May many of the fields had come to life in brilliant shades of green. What struck me most, however, was not the green. Throughout the fields of green were generous smatterings of the most vibrant yellow I had ever seen. The effect was mesmerizing, and it sparked my curiosity because I knew that there weren’t any local crops of that color.
I rode faster on the way down, eager to get to the valley floor and discover the source of that captivating yellow. When I reached the fields, I was astonished to find that the beauty that had so enchanted me didn’t come from anything exotic. The fields were filled with simple, unassuming dandelions.
I picked one small dandelion and brought it close to my nose. It was amazing to me how much difference perspective had made. From high above, I was quite taken in by the beauty of something that most people on the valley floor would call a weed. I would never have recognized its worth if I had not been prompted to look up and find the beauty in it.
I realized that I sometimes treat people the way most people treat the dandelion I held in my hand. I decide that they aren’t really worth my notice, without pausing to get to know them better or to think of how greatly the Lord values them. God knew that the dandelion was beautiful in its simplicity, even when most people couldn’t see it.
It occurred to me that I was much like the dandelion. Small and imperfect—but important and cherished in the eyes of my Heavenly Father. Elder Neal A. Maxwell of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles (1926–2004) once said that “sometimes with smudges on our cheeks, dirt on our hands, and shoes untied, stammeringly but smilingly we present God with a dandelion—as if it were an orchid or a rose! If for now the dandelion is the best we have to offer, He receives it, knowing what we may later place on the altar” (That Ye May Believe [1992], 100).
Since that day I have never looked at a dandelion the same way. When I look at those little yellow flowers, I don’t see something to be stomped on, plucked up, or sneered at. I see effortless charm and loveliness. I will be forever grateful for the lesson I learned on that day—never judge someone or something until you have tried to see them from the Lord’s point of view, because the Lord, from His perspective high above mine, has a far better view and can much more easily judge the worth of flowers and of souls.

I never used to find time to read the scriptures daily, especially with waking up early to go to school and long hours of homework. The only times I read were at Sunday School, in Young Women class, and a couple of times a week for family scripture study. Despite all the promised blessings of daily scripture reading, I always put off my personal study. That is, until my cousin came to visit.
My cousin, a student at Brigham Young University–Idaho, was my roommate at our home while she worked at a Church ranch in Florida. Every night she would pray and read her scriptures and, since the light was on anyway, I would join her. Gradually, I developed the habit also, and when she went back to Idaho, I continued personal scripture study on my own.
I know there is a lot more I need to read and understand, but daily reading has truly blessed me. The scriptures have come to life for me, especially in Nephi, Mosiah, and Alma. Whenever I begin to murmur and complain, I can look back to what I have learned in the scriptures and make changes in my life.
It is fun to find the stories I learned when I was in Primary and read the complete versions from the sacred records of God’s prophets. I am so thankful for the example my cousin set by studying the scriptures daily. I know scripture study has helped and will continue to help me throughout my life.

In the middle of the forest stood a giant apple tree with a golden apple hanging on its highest branch.
Several animals saw the apple, and each claimed it for himself. But none of these animals could climb, so they all sat under the tree and waited for the apple to fall.
Soon a squirrel came along, climbed the tree, and nibbled through the stem of the apple. But the apple was so heavy that it slipped through his paws and fell.
The one who emerged from the forest with the golden apple is a surprise!

“May I speak to you?” Paula said, pulling Valeria aside. “I felt something special at my uncle’s baptism,” she explained quietly.
Valeria told her friend she had felt the promptings of the Spirit. “He’s telling you that you need to follow your uncle’s example.”
“But I can’t do it alone,” said Paula.
“Don’t worry. I’ll help you,” assured her friend. Before long, Paula and her whole family were meeting with the missionaries and accepting the invitation to be baptized. Their lives changed forever.

And bishops, it is important that we help them to understand and appreciate what the priesthood means. When I was a bishop I had six boys in my ward old enough to be ordained elders. I could only recommend five of them, because one of them wasn’t ready. We had talked about it several times, and he had said to me, “I am not worthy.” He felt very bad about it, but he didn’t expect to be recommended to the stake president. His uncle came to me and said, “You are surely not going to hold that boy back with his five friends going forward.” He pled with me to let him go. He said, “You will be driving him out of the Church if you don’t.”

I explained to this man, “The priesthood is the most important thing that we can give this boy. We are not handing the priesthood out on a silver platter. This boy and I understand each other, and he is not ready to be ordained an elder.” And he wasn’t recommended.

A few years later I was attending a general conference right here on this Temple Square, and a young man came up to me and said, “President Tanner, you wouldn’t remember me. I am the boy whom you didn’t recommend to be ordained an elder.” As he put his hand out, he said, “I want to thank you for it. I am a bishop now in California. If you had recommended me when I wasn’t worthy, I possibly never would have appreciated what the priesthood is and what is expected of one, and surely I would never have been a bishop as I am today.”

Some of the most enjoyable times to young Latter-day Saints in Panama are when a few of them get together, hop on a train, and go see some of the countryside. Since many of their parents work for the Canal company or for the government in Panama, even the ordinary roadsides with their profusion of tropical plants and flowers are interesting to them.
Nik Kovalenko and Marie Tueller from Balboa on the Pacific coast and Jeff and Karen Ward from Fort Davis on the Atlantic coast took trains and met at a small interior station called Frijoles. Here they picked up a boat that took them to Barro Colorado, an island in the middle of Gatun Lake. It was created when the lake was filled during the construction of the canal in 1914 and has been a biological research reserve ever since. It is a great place to see many of the native plants and animals in their natural environment. As they walked along the carefully marked trails, the young people enjoyed the exotic, tropical foliage and wildlife. By being extra quiet and careful they were able to stalk a band of wild howling monkeys. These animals have large necks and put them to good use as they roar and howl in ferocious-sounding, lionlike noises at their visitors.
On their way home, the young people stopped at Summit Gardens where they could see many more of Panama’s plants and animals.

As a child of record, my commitment to the gospel’s principles has been something I try to pay keen attention to. However, there’s always been a lingering sense of inadequacy surrounding family history work. My wife and I would earnestly set goals each year, only to fall short time and time again. Opening my family tree brought a wave of discouragement, leaving me unsure of where to even begin. Then, a pivotal moment occurred during an employee devotional where a colleague from the Family History department delivered a poignant talk on the significance of this sacred work. It was like a spark ignited within me, propelling me to take decisive action. Immediately after the devotional, I reached out to my aging parents in the village, hoping to glean some insights despite their foggy memories due to illness.
Miraculously, as the call with my dad continued, it felt as though unseen hands were guiding me, directing my questions and what exactly to ask. This unveiled much history about my ancestors I knew less about. With each revelation, my excitement grew, and for the first time in ages, I felt a renewed sense of purpose for family history. Armed with newfound determination, I delved into tracing my wife’s lineage, eager to unearth connections that would bridge our family histories.
Calling upon her older sister, who had introduced her to the Church, proved to be a pivotal moment. Though initially unsure, she promised to assist and, after just a few days, inundated me with a treasure trove of ancestral information. Sharing this with my wife, I witnessed a radiant glow envelop her face as she discovered the names and connections of most of her ancestors for the very first time.
In that moment, the transformative power of family history work became abundantly clear. It wasn’t just about names and dates but also about weaving together the threads of our shared past and strengthening our familial bonds in the present. I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards the colleague whose words had sparked this journey within me.
Through their inspired message, I found the courage to begin, and in doing so, unlocked a profound source of joy and connection that continues to enrich our lives to this day.

After recovering from three major surgeries which have prevented me from speaking in the past two general conferences, what a joy it is to be able to stand in this beautiful Conference Center today to teach and bear testimony to those who desire to hear the word of the Lord.
In the past two years, I have waited upon the Lord for mortal lessons to be taught me through periods of physical pain, mental anguish, and pondering. I learned that constant, intense pain is a great consecrating purifier that humbles us and draws us closer to God’s Spirit. If we listen and obey, we will be guided by His Spirit and do His will in our daily endeavors.
There were times when I have asked a few direct questions in my prayers, such as, “What lessons dost Thou want me to learn from these experiences?”
As I studied the scriptures during this critical period of my life, the veil was thin and answers were given to me as they were recorded in lives of others who had gone through even more severe trials.
“My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment;
“And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high” (D&C 121:7–8).
Dark moments of depression were quickly dispelled by the light of the gospel as the Spirit brought peace and comfort with assurances that all would be well.
On a few occasions I told the Lord that I had surely learned the lessons to be taught and that it wouldn’t be necessary for me to endure any more suffering. Such entreaties seemed to be of no avail, for it was made clear to me that this purifying process of testing was to be endured in the Lord’s time and in the Lord’s own way. It is one thing to teach, “Thy will be done” (Matt. 26:42). It is another to live it. I also learned that I would not be left alone to meet these trials and tribulations but that guardian angels would attend me. There were some that were near angels in the form of doctors, nurses, and most of all my sweet companion, Mary. And on occasion, when the Lord so desired, I was to be comforted with visitations of heavenly hosts that brought comfort and eternal reassurances in my time of need.
The experiences of the last two years have made me stronger in spirit and have given me courage to testify more boldly to the world the deep feelings of my heart. I stand before you today with a resolve to teach the gospel principles like the prophets of old—without the fear of man, speaking clearly with plain talk, and teaching simple gospel truths.

When I was 11, I was having doubts about if I was ready to receive the Aaronic Priesthood. The day of my ordination was getting closer and closer.
I had been taught that if I prayed to my Heavenly Father sincerely, I would get an answer from Him. So I knelt down and asked about the things I was doubting.
Later that day, I felt like I should read the scriptures. I felt prompted to turn to Doctrine and Covenants 20. This section talks about priesthood duties and responsibilities. As I read, verse 59 stood out to me. It reads, “They are, however, to warn, expound, exhort, and teach, and invite all to come unto Christ.” These words inspired me. As I read them, I knew that I would be ready to receive the Aaronic Priesthood and be ordained a deacon.
Heavenly Father cared for me and gave me an answer that I needed to hear. Now as a deacon, I have looked back on my experiences and found that the teachings of that scripture are true. I am grateful that I chose to receive the priesthood. I look forward to serving the Lord as I advance in the priesthood.

As a new convert to the Church, I experienced a spiritual rescue through the saving hands of a faithful member of the Church. I grew up in Matsumoto, Japan, close to where the Nagano Winter Olympics were held. My hometown looks very much like Salt Lake City, a valley surrounded by beautiful mountains. When I was 17 years old, I met two American missionaries, Elder Carter and Elder Hayashi. Though our ages were only two or three years apart, the elders had something wonderful that I had never felt before. They were diligent, cheerful, and filled with love and light. I was deeply impressed by their qualities, and I wanted to become like them. I listened to their message and decided to be baptized. My parents, who were Buddhist, strongly opposed my baptism. Through the help of the missionaries and the Lord, I received permission and miraculously was baptized.
The next year I entered the university in Yokohama. Living alone, far from my hometown and the people I knew, I became lonely and strayed from the Church. One day I received a postcard from a Church member back home. She wrote that she had heard I was not attending Church meetings. She quoted a scripture and invited me to return to church. I was overwhelmed by the words of the scripture. This helped me realize that maybe I had lost something important, and I pondered and struggled for many days. This also caused me to remember a promise the missionaries had made to me: “If you read the Book of Mormon and ask in fervent prayer if the promise found in Moroni is true, you will know the truth through the power of the Holy Ghost.”2
I realized that I was not praying with all of my heart and decided to do so. One morning I woke up early, knelt in my small apartment, and prayed sincerely. To my surprise, the confirmation of the Holy Ghost came upon me as promised. My heart burned, my body shook, and I was filled with joy. Through the power of the Holy Ghost, I learned that God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, live and that They truly appeared to Joseph Smith. I made a commitment in my heart to repent and faithfully follow Jesus Christ for the rest of my life.
This spiritual experience changed my life completely! I decided to serve a mission out of gratitude to the Lord and to the Church member who rescued me. Following my mission, I was sealed in the temple to a wonderful girl, and we have been blessed with four children. Not coincidentally, this is the same girl who saved me by sending a postcard to that lonely apartment in Yokohama many years ago. I remain ever grateful for the mercy of the Lord and the help of this Church member, who invited me to once again come unto Christ.3

I had never understood this scripture. Jesus had healed the blind man so that the works of God could be manifest. But what about all those who are not healed? What about my sister with disabilities, who had died when I was a child? What about Cameron, our home teacher’s son who had cerebral palsy and was in a wheelchair?
As I thought of Cameron, scenes flooded my mind.
We are sitting on our back porch with our home teachers. Cameron is in his wheelchair. He is bearing his testimony, slowly, painstakingly—fighting the obstinate, uncooperative muscles in his face.
“I know God loves me,” he says. “I love God.” It takes much effort, much time before he is finished. My husband, Van, leans forward.
“Cameron,” he says earnestly, “you are improving so much on your speaking. I can understand every word!”
Cameron beams with pride. I see my husband’s tender, compassionate face, and I wonder: Are not the works of God made manifest?
At twelve, Cameron is old enough to pass the sacrament. One of the brethren in our ward has designed and fitted his wheelchair with a special tray. The bread and water are placed on his tray by members of his Aaronic Priesthood quorum.
He wheels to the end of the pew, where a member lifts the tray to partake of the sacrament. Are not the works of God made manifest in that sacred act?
I see Cameron, my sister, and others I have known who have disabilities in mind or body. Others carry them; others are their arms, their legs, their minds. I see these same individuals with disabilities giving others gifts of love and hope.
I see the works of God made manifest for them and by them.

Let me give another example from these very valleys:
Some time ago I was assigned to a conference in northern Utah in June. As I drove through Cache Valley on Saturday, I was struck by the beauty of that peaceful green valley. I marveled at the temple in Logan—such a serene, peaceful beacon in so many ways. As I continued north on that clear summer day, I was impressed with the green fields so rich with a variety of crops. I particularly noticed the great number of alfalfa fields and the constant activity in nearly all of them. What a pleasing sensation it was to smell that freshly mown hay and to see the straight rows and the orderly cutting of those meticulously groomed fields.
I pulled the car over to the side of the road at the top of one of the hills and got out. I found myself absorbed right into that beautiful valley. As far as I could see was a whole panorama of the same activity in every direction—hay being mowed and stacked and hauled.
I finally drove on to the stake where we had a wonderful conference.
My parents live in southeast Idaho, and since I was already more than halfway there, I decided to drive up Sunday afternoon to visit them before returning home.
So, after conference I started north through the rest of Cache Valley. Within a few miles I was in Idaho, but the scenery and feeling were just the same. I again became absorbed in the beauty of the green fields and the smell of fresh hay all around. Again, I stopped at the top of one of the hills and got out and looked as far as I could in all directions. It was just as beautiful—if not more so—than the day before. “Yes, even more beautiful,” I thought, “but why?” The sun and sky and the clouds and the fields were all the same. Why this deep feeling that this sight this Sunday afternoon was even more beautiful than the day before?
What was the difference? I noticed in the distance a small LDS chapel and a few cars starting to pull up to it. Then it struck me, rather peacefully but very effectively: “There is the difference. No one is mowing or hauling hay today.” I looked as far as I could and saw hay fields everywhere, tractors stopped, mowing machines idle, and trucks resting in the fields, but no one working—for it was the Sabbath and this was Cache Valley and these were largely good Latter- day Saint people.
As I continued north, I saw everywhere hay to be cut and stacked and hauled and equipment and weather to do it, but no man or woman in the fields. The people of this valley were observing a higher law, and the Sabbath was being kept holy in Cache Valley.
I went by dozens, even hundreds, of farms with machines waiting in the fields—left Saturday evening by God-fearing men waiting for Monday to come and the whine of activity to resume. I wondered to myself, “Will someone break this spell, will someone be out in his fields working?”
Each time I rounded a corner or came to the top of a hill, I would look and look and then breathe a sigh of relief—no one working.
I went farther and farther north, realizing I was near the end of this beautiful valley. “Would anyone break the spell? Could it be a whole valley so dedicated to God that no one would work on the Sabbath?” The suspense became almost unbearable. Each curve I rounded or each hill I came over found me looking in almost fearful anticipation, then smiling as the same peaceful scene continued.
Finally I came to the last curve and the confluence with the main road that marked the end of Cache Valley. I looked and looked, but all was peaceful and quiet. I was so excited, I pulled the car over, got out, and in almost a Toyota-like jump I raised my hands and shouted, “You did it, Cache Valley. You did it! I have traversed your length. You didn’t know I was looking, but you did it—not one field being mowed, not one tractor at work, not one truck hauling. You did it!” (I recognize that I had been through only the northern end of the valley that Sunday, but it was still Cache Valley.)
I instinctively looked heavenward and said, “Did you see that? Did you see Cache Valley this Sunday afternoon?”
Even though I didn’t hear anything, it was as though I sensed a response saying, “Yes, we know. We see everything.”
I had such a joyful feeling—almost ecstasy—as I drove north to a wonderful meeting with my parents before returning home.
For some time after that, I couldn’t get that Sunday afternoon off my mind. I kept feeling, “You have observed and witnessed something very special, something truly significant: an entire valley keeping His Sabbath holy.”
It caused me deep reflection then and many times since, but like so many things it was moved further and further to the back of my mind with the press of many current problems. Winter came, and for all intents and purposes it slipped from my conscious memory.
I continued to travel each weekend to various parts of the world. Many months later, I was assigned to a conference in a city noted for its particularly flagrant violations of God’s laws. The Saints there were wonderful, but oh, the decadence and debauchery that seemed to be all around them.
As I returned from the especially hectic weekend, I began reading in the scriptures. I thought about Sodom and Gomorrah. Could they have been much more wicked than this? And yet the Lord promised to spare them for fifty righteous souls—or even down to ten—but they were not found.
I let my imagination go and seemed to see a band of destroying angels loosed from heaven—thundering across the land. And even before I had time to think about the situation, I seemed to see myself standing in front of these determined destroyers, declaring, “Hold, hold, hold”; and they held. “Go back,” I said: and their horses reared, their eyes flashing in impatience. The destroyers’ anxiousness showed, but they held.
The leader looked me squarely in the eye and challenged, “By what right do you ask us to hold? Have you not seen the evil of the land?”
I replied, “Yes, I know of the sordidness of the world. I see the constant mocking of God’s laws, the merchandising on his holy day, the constant breaking of his commandments. I see the evil that exists almost universally. Yes, yes, all these things are true, still …” Then I became concerned. What right had I to ask them to hold?
My eyes began to fall from his penetrating gaze, but something inside kept searching, searching, until finally a laserlike beam locked onto a misty memory made many months ago and faithfully filed away for such a time as this. A vista of a beautiful green valley passed before me and moved to the front of my consciousness.
I raised my eyes and met his as he again said, “What right do you have to ask us to hold?”
Then with the confidence of sure knowledge and spiritual direction, I replied, “You must hold, for you see, I have been through Cache Valley on a Sunday afternoon.”
There was no hesitation, no anger, no look of surprise, no disappointment, only obedience; and he turned and rejoined his group, and they left.
Oh, my dear brothers and sisters, there is power in keeping the Sabbath day holy—power to help others as well as ourselves. If we would have God’s blessings and protection as individuals, as families, as communities, and as nations, we must keep His Sabbath day holy.
May we all live that someday, someway, somewhere, somehow, as we face that which is very serious, we may be able to say, “Hold, hold, hold”; and, when challenged as to why (even by ourselves), be able—through obedience and the confidence of the Spirit—to say in our own way, “For I have been through Cache Valley on a Sunday afternoon,” I do humbly pray in the name of our Savior, who lives. I know he lives, even Jesus Christ, amen.

I was a well-known journalist who had written for some good magazines and newspapers in Lima, Peru, but my way of life—far from God—was tormenting me more each day. Because of this, I accepted a job as a proofreader for a magazine in the Ventanilla District, located far from my home. I was desperately seeking a way to get away from my current circle of friends. In Ventanilla, I felt in my heart that my life would change.
I was occasionally attending church with my girlfriend, María Cristina, when two good, stubborn missionaries convinced me to ask Heavenly Father in prayer if the Church was true. I did so, and what I experienced was indescribable. I had never felt the Spirit so strong as on that unforgettable day.
Married and baptized a short time later, María Cristina and I rented a small, uncomfortable room in Ventanilla. Because of my hard work, I was advanced from proofreader to editor at the company’s magazine and newspaper. I had never been an editor before, and I was happy with the position. Even so, things started to change when our publications began to lower their standards, publishing items of questionable morality. These changes, ordered by our directors, opposed Church principles and values.
I had always wanted to be an editor, but the situation made me uncomfortable. Our bishop suggested that if we did things that pleased our Heavenly Father, He would bless us. After my wife and I thought it over and prayed about it, we felt prompted that I should quit my job.
A few days later I was beginning to feel stressed out and wondered if I had done the right thing. After resigning, I had sent résumés to several companies but had heard nothing back. María Cristina suggested that we pray again, and we did so. We prayed that everything would turn out well and that we would not lose faith even though the bills were piling up.
A few hours later my wife encouraged me to call one of the companies. Somewhat unbelieving, I called. I was astounded when an official there said he was just about to call me. He wanted to know if I could start the next day!
We wept for joy. Our Heavenly Father had answered our prayers.
We had to leave our ward and many good friends for my new job, but we left with stronger testimonies. I now have respectable work and a good salary, and we have a nice place to live. Above all, we have been blessed with the certainty that when we do the things that please God, we receive His blessings.

“I shared this story with some of our new elders just last week when I was driving them to their first assignment. I turned to Elder Bobby Yazzie in the seat next to mine and asked, ‘Did you ever happen to meet Elder Descheenie?’ A smile came on his face, and his eyes filled with tears. ‘President,’ he said, ‘He is the one that found me, taught me, and baptized me. If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t be here today. I’m the only one in my entire family who is a member of the Church.’
“It’s hard to explain the thrill I felt when he told me this. Only a short two years before, Bobby had never heard of the Church, and here he was riding beside me: intelligent, handsome, clear-eyed, and anxious to go forth and share his testimony among his people. Bobby had only been out for a short time when he had his first baptisms, his own grandfather and grandmother, and since then many more.”