Gospel Story Finder

One day each of us will finish our earthly journey. Twenty-five years ago, just days before my mother-in-law, Martha Williams, died of cancer, she received a small check in the mail. She immediately asked my wife, Kathy, for her checkbook to pay her tithing. As her mother was so weakened that she could scarcely write, Kathy asked if she could write the check for her. Her mother responded, “No, Kathy. I want to do it myself.” And then she quietly added, “I want to be right before the Lord.” One of the final things Kathy did for her mother was to hand her tithing envelope to her bishop.

When the city of St. George, Utah, decided to designate historic sites with white picket fences, it called for volunteers from the community to help. The young women from the St. George Third Ward were quick to lend a hand to a young Boy Scout who needed help with his Eagle project by painting fences—and each other!
The project gave the girls a chance to get to know each other while they provided a service to their town.

Do you think that the Lord cares about the little decisions that you make? I know that He does. I saw it firsthand as a mission president. One young elder was a fine young man, who was good, but he had just a couple of little things that he was struggling with—he loved music, some of which was not missionary-oriented, and he loved his pillow, especially in the early morning hours. I invited him and his companion to come visit with me in the office. I had a great talk given by Elder David B. Haight on “exact obedience” that I wanted them to read and study together. Just a moment after they left my office to read the talk aloud together in another room, my telephone rang. As I answered it, I was stunned by the voice at the other end: “This is Elder So-and-so’s mother,”—of course, the very young man I was counseling with—“I just had a feeling that he needed some extra help. Is he okay?” she asked. I began to weep. I immediately called the missionaries to come back to my office. I told them what had just happened and then asked them, “Do you think the Lord knows you? Do you think the Lord cares about you? Do you think the little things matter to the Lord?” The Lord as much as reached out and spoke to him. He became a powerful missionary.

When I was a teenager, my dad was serving as a bishop here on campus. He really enjoyed this calling, but I wasn't such a big fan. To me, all that it meant was that there were groups of college kids at our house all of the time and extra meetings to attend.

I remember one Sunday, October 29, 1995—I know the exact date because my grandmother made note of the meeting in her scriptures—being dragged by my dad here to campus to attend a regional conference. I wasn't excited about having to go to this extra meeting.

The conference was held in the Hart gymnasium, and I sat on a back row in the red seats. I don't remember much from the conference except that the main speaker, and presiding officer, at the meeting was President Gordon B. Hinckley, then the First Counselor in the First Presidency.

Toward the end of his remarks, President Hinckley pounded his fist on the pulpit and said, "The Lord will not let His Church be led astray. If I were to attempt to do so, the Lord would remove me from my place."

On that day, the Holy Ghost testified to my heart that prophets are real. My dad was supporting me, against my immature judgment, by bringing me to a place where he knew that a prophet of God would be. And that prophet of God bore testimony of the work, and it was delivered to me personally by the Holy Ghost, the third member of the Godhead.

A young man once pleaded with me for help. He had become addicted to pornography, which he accessed via his home computer. It burdened him with such guilt that he could not feel good about attending church or participating in priesthood assignments. It adversely affected his social life. He was powerfully drawn to spend hour upon hour alone in front of the computer viewing that which he acknowledged brought only frustration and despair. It was as if he were chained by a master whose only purpose was to make him miserable.
He did not decide at once to become a slave to the computer screen. Rather, he decided at some earlier time that viewing destructive images “just this once” would not hurt and would satisfy a “curiosity.” Once became twice, and twice became several times, until a powerful addiction had lessened his power of choice. Only after he was enchained by his addiction did he recognize that he had willingly submitted to captivity.

Recently a bishop in a campus YSA ward shared something very sacred with me about heavenly mentoring he witnessed on this campus. He said: "The other evening, I was interviewing a young lady who had made some serious mistakes in her life. As I sat across the desk that night, I watched a miracle unfold before me. I felt like a bystander in a very holy process, watching the Lord reach down and do His redeeming work, helping this young lady come to Him in true repentance. I watched as He lifted an extremely heavy burden from her. Something I was entirely incapable of doing. It was a miracle and a humbling and beautiful thing to witness."

As I listened to this good bishop speak, I had this thought: The Savior and the Holy Spirit are very real forces today. Daily They mentor, lift burdens, and actively bless, just as in the days when the Savior lived and walked upon this earth.

In 1921 Elder David O. McKay (1873–1970), who later became the ninth President of the Church, made a world tour of the missions of the Church. While aboard a ship nearing Apia, Samoa, he had a beautiful experience that teaches a double lesson. First, it shows us the kind of thoughts we might entertain when we don’t really have to think about anything. Second, it shows us the rewards our Heavenly Father reserves for those who come unto Christ and overcome the world. President McKay wrote:

“Towards evening, the reflection of the afterglow of a beautiful sunset was most splendid! The sky was tinged with pink, and the clouds lingering around the horizon were fringed with various hues of crimson and orange, while the heavy cloud farther to the west was sombre purple and black. These various colors cast varying shadows on the peaceful surface of the water. Those from the cloud were long and dark, those from the crimson-tinged sky, clear but rose-tinted and fading into a faint pink that merged into the clear blue of the ocean. Gradually, the shadows became deeper and heavier, and then all merged into a beautiful calm twilight that made the sea look like a great mirror upon which fell the faint light of the crescent moon!

“Pondering still upon this beautiful scene, I lay in my berth at ten o’clock that night, and thought to myself: Charming as it is, it doesn’t stir my soul with emotion as do the innocent lives of children, and the sublime characters of loved ones and friends. Their beauty, unselfishness, and heroism are after all the most glorious!

“I then fell asleep, and beheld in vision something infinitely sublime. In the distance I beheld a beautiful white city. Though far away, yet I seemed to realize that trees with luscious fruit, shrubbery with gorgeously-tinted leaves, and flowers in perfect bloom abounded everywhere. The clear sky above seemed to reflect these beautiful shades of color. I then saw a great concourse of people approaching the city. Each one wore a white flowing robe. … Instantly my attention seemed centered upon their Leader, and though I could see only the profile of his features and his body, I recognized him at once as my Savior! The tint and radiance of his countenance were glorious to behold! There was a peace about him which seemed sublime—it was divine!

“The city, I understood, was his. It was the City Eternal; and the people following him were to abide there in peace and eternal happiness.

“But who were they?

“As if the Savior read my thoughts, he answered by pointing to a semicircle that then appeared above them, and on which were written in gold the words:

‘These Are They Who Have Overcome The World—
Who Have Truly Been Born Again!’

“When I awoke, it was breaking day over Apia harbor” (Cherished Experiences from the Writings of President David O. McKay, compiled by Clare Middlemiss [1955], 101–2).

Teachers in the Church so instruct the old and the young. Sometimes the results are humorous. One leader shared this story with me:
As a little boy came home from Primary one day, his mother asked him what he had learned, and he said, “My teacher told me that I used to be dust and I would be dust again once more. Is that true, Mommy?”
“Yes,” the mother replied. “A scripture tells us so: ‘For dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return’ (Gen. 3:19).”
The little boy was amazed at this! The next morning, he was scurrying around getting ready for school, looking for his shoes. He crawled under the bed. Lo and behold, there he saw balls of dust. He ran to his mother in wonder, saying, “Oh, Mommy, somebody’s under my bed, and they’re either coming or going.”

Let me cite just one example of that preparation which started many years ago, when President Kimball was the age of many of you sitting within the sound of my voice tonight. When he was fourteen years old, a Church leader visited a conference of the stake over which his father presided and told the congregation that they should read the scriptures.
President Kimball, in recalling that experience, said: “I recognized that I had never read the Bible, [so] that very night at the conclusion of that very sermon I walked to my home a block away and climbed up in my little attic room in the top of the house and lighted a little coal-oil lamp that was on the little table, and I read the first chapters of Genesis. A year later I closed the Bible, having read every chapter in that big and glorious book. … It was formidable, but I knew if others did it that I could do it.
“I found,” said President Kimball, “that there were certain parts that were hard for a 14-year-old boy to understand. There were some pages that were not especially interesting to me, but when I had read the 66 books and the 1,189 chapters and 1,519 pages, I had a glowing satisfaction that I had made a goal and that I had achieved it.
“Now I am not telling you this story to boast,” President Kimball concludes, “I am merely using this as an example to say that if I could do it by coal-oil light, you can do it by electric light. I have always been glad I read the Bible from cover to cover.” (Ensign, May 1974, p. 88.) In this and a thousand other ways, young Spencer Woolley Kimball silently and efficiently prepared, never dreaming of what lay ahead.

Inspiring is the missionary service rendered by Walter Krause, who lives in Prenzlau, Germany.
Homeless following World War II, like so many others at that time, Brother Krause and his family lived in a refugee camp in Cottbus and began to attend church there. He was immediately called to lead the Cottbus Branch. Four months later, in November of 1945, the country still in ruins, district president Richard Ranglack came to Brother Krause and asked him what he would think about going on a mission. Brother Krause’s answer reflects his commitment to the Church. Said he: “I don’t have to think about it at all. If the Lord needs me, I’ll go.”
He set out on December 1, 1945, with 20 German marks in his pocket and a piece of dry bread. One of the branch members had given him a winter coat left over from a son who had fallen in the war. Another member, who was a shoemaker, gave him a pair of shoes. With these and with two shirts, two handkerchiefs, and two pairs of stockings, he left on his mission.
Once, in the middle of winter, he walked from Prenzlau to Kammin, a little village in Mecklenburg, where 46 attended the meetings which were held. He arrived long after dark that night after a six-hour march over roads, paths, and finally across plowed fields. Just before he reached the village, he came to a large, white, flat area which made for easy walking, and he soon arrived at a member’s home to stay the night.
The next morning the game warden knocked on the door of the member’s house, asking, “Do you have a guest?”
“Yes,” came the reply.
The game warden continued, “Then come and take a look at his tracks.” The large, flat area on which Brother Krause had walked was actually a frozen lake, and some time earlier the warden had chopped a large hole in the middle of the lake for fishing. The wind had driven snow over the hole and covered it so that Brother Krause could not have seen his danger. His tracks went right next to the edge of the hole and straight to the house of the member, without his knowing anything about it. Weighed down by his backpack and his rubber boots, he would certainly have drowned had his pathway been one step closer to the hole he couldn’t see.

In early 2019, Sister Setaita Ata began her mission in the Joao Pessoa Mission in Northeast Brazil. Some months later, she suffered a complex knee injury and had to return to Australia for protracted medical treatment.
Still keen to complete her mission, Sister Ata was cleared for missionary service a year later and was transferred to the Melbourne Australia Mission. Then in October 2020, she suffered yet another health challenge: a series of debilitating migraines.
Along with her physical pain, she also felt responsible for hindering her companions from working to their full capacity. With this burden heavy on her mind, Sister Ata reluctantly spoke to her mission president, fearing that she would have to leave the mission field early.
Imagine her delight to learn that she could continue to serve the Lord—that her medical needs could be managed while she completed the rest of her mission. When President Houghton explained that she could be transferred to a service mission, Sister Ata accepted immediately, even before she knew how it would work. The very same day Elder and Sister Nicholls, service mission leaders overseeing Australia, met with her via Zoom to interview her and to explain the process.
As a service missionary, Sister Ata would move back home to continue with medical treatments, but she would have to keep up her regular missionary schedule of daily prayer, scripture study, and exercise. Elder and Sister Nicholls would prayerfully consider Sister Ata’s unique strengths to determine the best way for her to contribute to the gathering of Israel.
When they met again to work out the new terms of her missionary service, the Nicholls’ noted that Sister Ata is blessed with a beautiful talent for the visual arts, that she has a great sense of compassion and a gentle strength of character. Sister Ata expressed her desire to serve in the temple, and after some discussion, with prayer in their hearts, they sculpted a unique new assignment for her:
District leadership: Sister Ata would serve as a leader for all the service missionaries in her district.
Artistic service: She would create visual art pieces that inspire faith in Jesus Christ and in His gospel.
Temple service: She would work in the office at the Australia Melbourne Temple for an agreed amount of time every week.
“I knew I had a talent with art” Sister Ata says, “but I hadn’t used it for a long time. I now realise that Heavenly Father wants me to use art to serve others.”
Thinking about the health struggles that hindered her mission in the beginning, Sister Ata would not have chosen those challenges for herself, but she knows that she is now receiving abundant beauty for ashes.2
“If anything, my transfer into a service mission helped me [to] realise what Heavenly Father has given me,” she says. “A big part of my service mission is doing the Lord’s will and just enquiring of Him. It goes back to a lesson in Come, Follow Me: if you have a desire to serve, then enquire of the Lord and He will direct you to know what to do and how to serve.”

s I was leaving a department store one day, I found a wad of cash on the ground next to our car. I grabbed it and showed my mom. We counted the money. It was about $480.
I thought of all the things I could get with that much money. However, I thought someone must really need it.
We decided to go back into the store and ask the workers to announce the license plate number of the car next to ours over the loudspeaker. Eventually a lady with small kids came to the front of the store. My mom asked her if she’d lost anything. The lady quickly checked her pockets and said she’d apparently lost some money—nearly $500. She seemed very distressed. My mom handed her the stack of cash. The lady was so thankful and wanted to know where it was found, so my mom explained that I had found it on the ground near her car door. The lady was so thankful to me for being honest that she wanted to give me $20.
It would’ve been nice to have the $20, but I felt good about letting her keep it. In For the Strength of Youth it says, “Be honest with yourself, others, and God at all times” ([2011], 19). That means to choose not to lie, steal, cheat, or deceive in any way. It also says, “When you are honest, you build strength of character that will allow you to be of great service to God and others” (19). Being honest made me feel good; I’m glad Iwas able to help this woman.

In closing may I share one of the family practices that has produced joy and memories in our family. It is a tradition that has tied us together as a nuclear and an extended family.

When our oldest children were ready to begin formal schooling, Sister Bateman and I decided that a father’s blessing would be given each to child and to the mother at the beginning of the school year. The family home evening preceding the start of school would be the occasion. We began the practice when Michael, our oldest son, turned five and was about to enter kindergarten. The practice continues to this day, although there is only one son at home. He is a student at BYU. When all the children were home, eight blessings were given on that special Monday evening.

The year Michael was about to enter the third grade holds special memories for us. During the summer he had participated in Little League baseball. He was a backup catcher and an outfielder on his team. For his age he had some athletic ability and was a good player. At the time he loved baseball. When we gathered together for family home evening just before the start of school, Michael announced to the family that he was too old for a father’s blessing. After all, he had completed his first season in Little League, he had played well, and blessings were for younger children.

Marilyn and I were stunned at first. We encouraged him by suggesting that a blessing would help him with his schoolwork. It would provide him with protection. It would help him in his relationships with his brothers, sisters, parents, and friends. But our encouragement, along with considerable coaxing and cajoling, failed. He was too old. Since Marilyn and I believe in agency and were not about to force a blessing on an eight-year-old, all of the children except Michael received a blessing that year.

The school year proceeded normally. Michael and the other children did well and the family enjoyed their associations together. As the following May arrived, it was time for Little League baseball to begin. Following the last day of school, Michael’s coach called a team practice. Michael’s anticipation could not have been greater. His dream was about to be realized. He was to be the starting catcher. The baseball diamond was located in the river bottoms not far from the mouth of Provo Canyon and a few blocks from our home. The boys and the coach walked to the field. Following the practice the boys and coach started for home. Michael and a friend decided to run on ahead of the coach and the other boys. In the process they had to cross University Avenue not far from the mouth of the canyon. As they approached the highway, Michael’s friend looked each way and noticed a car coming from the north. Michael failed to look and darted onto the highway just as a 16-year-old boy, out for his first drive in his brother’s car, came speeding out of the canyon.

I can’t imagine the fear that must have struck the young driver’s heart as he saw the small boy in front of him. The driver slammed on the brakes and swerved in an attempt to miss the boy. The side of the front fender and grill hit Michael and threw him down the highway, where he landed in a heap of broken bones.

Sister Bateman and I were visiting parents in American Fork when the police reached us by telephone with the news. We were told that Michael was in an ambulance on his way to the hospital and that he was in critical condition. Before leaving American Fork, I called a friend and asked him to meet us at the hospital to assist in giving Michael a blessing. The drive from American Fork to Provo was the longest 20 minutes of our lives. During the drive Marilyn and I prayed fervently, asking the Lord to preserve the life of our son and bless me with an understanding of the Lord’s will for him. In those 20 minutes we learned what it means to pray with “real intent” (Moroni 10:4).

As we parked the car by the door of the emergency room, we saw the police and a young man leaving the hospital. He was crying. The police recognized us and introduced us to the young man as the driver of the car. We put our arms around him and told him that we knew it was not his fault. We then entered the hospital to find Michael. We found him in a room with doctors and nurses feverishly attending to his needs. He had received a concussion and was irrational and crying for his mother. His scalp was laid back on his head, and the broken bones were obvious. My friend had arrived, and we asked if we could have two or three minutes with him alone before they took him to the operating room. They agreed. Again I prayed with all the fervency of my being that his life would be preserved and that the blessing would reflect the Lord’s will. My friend anointed and I sealed. As I laid my hands upon his head, a feeling of comfort and peace came over me. Words flowed and promises were made.

For the next four weeks Michael lay in a hospital bed with his head bandaged, his arm in a cast, and his leg in traction. Each Wednesday evening following the Little League game, his teammates would file into the hospital room and give Michael a rundown. Each week tears would well up in Michael’s eyes and run down his cheeks as he saw his teammates enter the room and heard the boys relive the game. He would have given anything to be able to participate. After four weeks Michael was put in a body cast that went from his chest to his toes. On two or three occasions we took him to a game to watch his friends play. Another four weeks passed, and the body cast was replaced with a cast from his hip to his toes. Two days before school was to begin the cast was removed, and Michael began the long process of exercising his leg to obtain full use again.

As the family gathered the next night for school blessings, is there any wonder as to who wanted the first blessing? A nine-year-old boy, a little older and a lot wiser, was first in line. Michael is not the only member of our family to learn from the experience. All of the other children have talked about the protection that may come through a father’s blessing. Over the years they have come to understand that accidents are not always prevented by priesthood blessings, but they have also learned that more than one type of protection is available through the priesthood. Today our grandchildren are recipients of priesthood blessings. The tradition is in its second generation. We hope that this practice, like the family, will prevail through the eternities.

When asked about the reasons for his gauged ears and pierced tongue, one young man says, “I was just curious. Now, it’s my play toy,” referring to his habit of clicking the barbell through his tongue against his teeth. His tongue piercing, however, has also affected his speech.
When pressed a little more, he admits his piercings convey an inaccurate image of what he is really like. “My teachers confronted me and said I was quite a surprise. They said I wasn’t anything like the way I look. They had been expecting the worst. Some people assumed I didn’t want to graduate.”
His body piercings have affected his relationship with some friends and their parents as well as his ability to get jobs. “My friend’s dad asked me, ‘Why the change of heart?’ He won’t let me hang around with his son, my friend, as much. We were supposed to room together at college, but his dad won’t let him.”
This young man has also been turned down for jobs he has applied for, and he knows that there are certain places of business that won’t even accept his application.
Why make things more difficult for himself? This young man just shrugs off the idea that his choice has affected his life, although he does not have a difficult time listing the areas in which his choice has actually made things harder.

Illustration by Roger Motzkus
When I was young, my grandma often had get-togethers for my cousins and me. There were about 14 of us, and we were always excited when Grandma invited us over for dinners, sleepovers, game nights, and holidays. Grandma’s house was the place to be!
Every activity at Grandma’s house was fun. But I never thought about all of the time and work that went into each activity. I just thought that was what grandmas did, and I loved it!
After years of fun cousin memories at Grandma’s house, our family moved away. Later my grandma came to spend a special day with us in our new home. My family thought long and hard to find the perfect gift for her. She has more stuff than anyone I know. What could we get the grandma who has everything?
I asked my dad for ideas, and he told me the same thing he says every year: “Why don’t you write her a really nice letter?” I was out of ideas, and so early the next morning, before anyone else was awake, I sat at the kitchen table with my feet on the cold tile and wrote my grandma a special letter.
At first I wondered what I could write besides, “You are so wonderful. Thanks for everything.” As I looked out the kitchen window at the palm trees and the sky, I thought of the many things Grandma had done for us over the years. I remembered that I had never told my grandma how much those times spent together as a family meant to me.
In my letter, I told my grandma that I love her, and I thanked her for all of the special memories. I let her know how important they still were to me, even years later. Then I put the letter in an envelope and went back into my warm, carpeted room.
When the time came to give Grandma her gifts, I slowly pulled out my letter. I didn’t know how to feel about my gift to her.
She looked surprised when I gave her the envelope. I watched closely as she carefully tore off the end of the envelope and pulled out the letter on narrow pink paper. As she read it, she started to smile and tears filled her eyes. I had never seen my grandma cry before. She slowly looked up and turned toward me with warm, brown eyes. She whispered, “Thank you, thank you. I didn’t think anyone remembered.”
Grandma, who had done so much to build strong family relationships, had no idea that I remembered or was grateful for those times together. She wiped her eyes and said, “Kimberly, thank you. That was the best present anyone could ever give me.”
I gave Grandma a big hug, feeling her soft skin against my cheek and smelling her “grandma” smell that was a mix of baby powder and musk. I was so grateful for my dad’s idea to write her a letter. I didn’t know that words of gratitude and love would mean more to my grandma than all of the knickknacks, perfume, and gifts that money could buy.

“It’s scripture time!” Lila said.
Lila loved reading to her little sister, Ánika, and her baby brother, Svetan. Soon Lila would be getting baptized! To be ready, she wanted to read the scriptures every day.
Lila opened the scripture storybook to the first page. Ánika and Svetan snuggled close so they could see the pictures.
“Listen carefully because I’m going to ask you questions after,” Lila said. Then she started reading the first chapter.
“Before we were born, we lived in heaven,” Lila read. “We didn’t have bodies yet. We were spirits.”
Lila, Ánika, and Svetan looked at the pictures of people dressed in white.
“Ready for your first question?” Lila turned to Ánika. “Where did you come from before you were born?”
Ánika clapped her hands. “Heaven!”
“That’s right,” said Lila. “And where did Svetan come from?”
“He came from heaven too,” Ánika said. Svetan giggled and put his fist in his mouth. Lila and Ánika laughed. Svetan was the cutest one-year-old in Argentina!
“Our whole family came from heaven,” Lila said. “Jesus did too. He came to help us so we can live with Heavenly Father again.” Lila pointed to the picture of Jesus on the page.
After she finished reading, Lila kept thinking about what it must have been like to live with Jesus in heaven. She wanted to be like Him. She wanted to always choose the right!
The next day at school, Lila’s tummy rumbled as she waited in line for breakfast. She could almost taste the empanadas as Señora Ruiz slid them onto her plate. They smelled so good!
Then Señora Ruiz poured Lila a cup of milk. Uh oh, Lila thought. The milk looked darker than usual. Sometimes her school added coffee or tea to the drinks.
“Is there any coffee or tea in the milk today?” Lila asked.
Señora Ruiz waved her hand. “A little coffee,” she said. “You won’t even taste it.”
Lila thought for a moment. She remembered how she wanted to be like Jesus and choose the right. She knew drinking coffee was something the prophets said not to do.
“No, thanks. I won’t have milk today,” Lila said. She gave Señora Ruiz a smile. Then she sat down to eat.
That night, Lila helped Papi wash dishes in the kitchen. She was still thinking about the scripture story. She was thinking about the milk too.
“Papi?”
“Yes?” Papi said.
“Why did Heavenly Father want us to have bodies?”
Papi thought while he rinsed another plate. “Well, He gave us bodies so we could become like Him,” he said. “Your body is a home for your spirit. That’s what we mean when we say our bodies are temples.”
Lila nodded. She sang a song about that in Primary sometimes! “So that’s why Heavenly Father wants us to take care of our bodies?”
“Exactly,” Papi said.
“Today at school, they put some coffee in the milk,” Lila said. “I didn’t drink it, though. I’m trying to take care of my temple.”
“I’m proud of you,” Papi said. He dried his hands on a towel and gave Lila a hug.
Lila hugged Papi tight. She was happy to take care of the body Heavenly Father had given her.

We were coming down a hill, feeling tired and frustrated. It was our 16th day in Sogod, Philippines. We had opened this area to missionary work and had spoken to a host of people as we climbed up and down the hills of the city. But we had yet to find anyone who cared enough to listen to our message. Rejection filled our days with sorrow.
Sogod—a small paradise, really—faced a beautiful, tranquil bay, and Elder Archer, my American companion, and I were knocking on doors that day. “Let’s stop and plan for a few minutes,” Elder Archer suggested, wiping his forehead. His neck and arms were sunburned, and my shoulders were aching from the weight of 30 copies of the Book of Mormon inside my backpack. We sat under a tree and looked at our weekly planner.
“Our next appointment is at 6:30 tonight. It’s only 3:30. What do you want to do?” Elder Archer asked.
“Let’s continue tracting. See that street going to the river? I think it’s a good area. And besides, it’s got plenty of shade with all the coconut trees,” I said.
As we made our way down the hill, I prayed in my heart that we would not be rejected again. As we reached an unfamiliar junction, we met an old couple carrying bamboo poles, bundles of wood, shingles, and tools.
They seemed a little embarrassed when we offered to help carry their load. After we insisted, they finally gave in—and off we went, not sure how far we had to go. We must have been quite a sight because as we entered the neighborhood, many people gathered on the street to see two strangers in white shirts and ties carrying this old couple’s bundles.
We were surprised to find out that the materials we were carrying were to be used to build a temporary home to replace one toppled by a typhoon. As we talked with them, a curious crowd gathered around us trying to find out who we were. There were smiles of gratitude on the faces of the old couple as we left, and we were happy about what had happened.
Carrying some bundles for an elderly couple was such a simple task, but it opened the doors to missionary work in the area. People didn’t forget what we had done, and they became more interested in hearing the gospel. Elder Archer and I witnessed how this simple act of service blessed Sogod. I labored there for almost four months and witnessed wonderful growth of the Church.
I now understand the promise the Lord makes to those who give true service to others—there is lasting joy in giving, in helping, and in bringing souls to the truth. We learned this for ourselves that day in Sogod.

To return good for evil not only overcomes fear but also overcomes enmity. I remember when we had an unfriendly neighbor some years ago. He would play the radio very loudly and generally try to be objectionable so much as to generate fear. I am glad I was prompted to retain a positive, cheerful demeanor which overcame fear and eventually broke down the barrier, for “perfect love casteth out fear” (1 Jn. 4:18).

Some years ago, President Romney and I were sitting in my office. The door opened and a fine young man came in with a troubled look on his face, and he said, “Brethren, I am going to the temple for the first time tomorrow. I have made some mistakes in the past, and I have gone to my bishop and my stake president, and I have made a clean disclosure of it all; and after a period of repentance and assurance that I have not returned again to those mistakes, they have now adjudged me ready to go to the temple. But, brethren, that is not enough. I want to know, and how can I know, that the Lord has forgiven me, also.”

What would you answer one who would come to you asking that question? As we pondered for a moment, we remembered King Benjamin’s address contained in the book of Mosiah. Here was a group of people who now were asking for baptism, and they said they viewed themselves in their carnal state:
“… And they all cried aloud with one voice, saying: O have mercy, and apply the atoning blood of Christ that we may receive forgiveness of our sins, and our hearts may be purified; …
“… after they had spoken these words the Spirit of the Lord came upon them, and they were filled with joy, having received a remission of their sins, and having peace of conscience. …” (Mosiah 4:2–3.)
There was the answer.
If the time comes when you have done all that you can to repent of your sins, whoever you are, wherever you are, and have made amends and restitution to the best of your ability; if it be something that will affect your standing in the Church and you have gone to the proper authorities, then you will want that confirming answer as to whether or not the Lord has accepted of you. In your soul-searching, if you seek for and you find that peace of conscience, by that token you may know that the Lord has accepted of your repentance. Satan would have you think otherwise and sometimes persuade you that now having made one mistake, you might go on and on with no turning back. That is one of the great falsehoods. The miracle of forgiveness is available to all of those who turn from their evil doings and return no more, because the Lord has said in a revelation to us in our day: “… go your ways and sin no more; but unto that soul who sinneth [meaning again] shall the former sins return, saith the Lord your God.” (D&C 82:7.) Have that in mind, all of you who may be troubled with a burden of sin.
And to you who are teachers, may you help to lift that great burden from those who are carrying it, and who have their conscience so seared that they are kept from activity, and they don’t know where to go to find the answers. You help them to that day of repentance and restitution, in order that they too may have that peace of conscience, the confirming of the Spirit of the Lord that he has accepted of their repentance.

It was Saturday afternoon. Ammon wanted to have some fun.
“Mamma,” he said, “may I go outside and play?”
“First you must tidy your room,” Mamma said.
“But, Mamma,” Ammon said, “can’t my room wait?”
“We want to invite someone important to be our guest. So we want our house to be clean and neat.”
“An important guest?” Ammon said. “In our home?”
“Yes, and you can help invite him,” Mamma said. “So go and tidy up your room.”
Ammon was excited. He liked having guests. He wondered who the guest would be. The mayor? The headmaster from school? Maybe it would be the bishop!
Ammon went to his room. First he found his dirty socks on the floor. He put them in the laundry basket. Then Ammon set his schoolbook on the desk. He wanted the guest to know he liked to learn new things.
Ammon’s big sister, Angel, came to his room. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Mamma said we’re having an important guest,” Ammon said. “She asked me to help get ready for him.”
They both looked up to see Mamma at the door.
“What else can we do to get ready?” Ammon said. “We want our important guest to feel welcome.”
“What ideas do you have?” Mamma asked.
“We can say karibu,” Ammon said. In Swahili that means, “You are welcome in our house. You are welcome to speak.”
“We can listen,” Angel said. “It’s important to listen.”
“Those are good ideas,” Mamma said. “Let’s see what Baba (Dad) says when he gets home.”
In about an hour, Baba arrived.
Ammon was waiting. “Mamma says we are inviting a special guest to our house. We’ve been getting ready.”
Baba smiled. “I’m glad. Come. Sit. Let’s talk. Angel, please come too.”
When they were all together, Baba said, “Mamma and I have been talking about our special guest and what we can do to make him feel welcome. First, I will tell you who our guest is. It is the Holy Ghost. He’s one of the most important guests of all.”
Ammon and Angel looked at each other. That’s not who Ammon expected!
“And He’s a guest we can invite to be with us all the time,” Mamma said. “Angel, after you were baptized, you were confirmed. And you were given a gift. Do you remember what Baba said in the blessing?”
“He told me to receive the Holy Ghost.”
“That’s right,” Mamma said. “You were invited to receive the Holy Ghost. So, Ammon, when I said you could help invite Him, what did I mean?”
Ammon thought. He had planned to make a card to invite their guest. But how could he invite the Holy Ghost? “I guess that by doing things to make Him feel welcome, I am inviting Him,” Ammon said.
“That’s right!” Baba said. “One way we can invite Him into our home is by making it neat and clean.”
“Is that why Mamma wanted us to tidy our rooms?” Ammon asked.
“Yes!” Mamma said. “What else can we do to invite Him to be with us?”
“We can pray,” Ammon said. “And read scriptures.”
“We can listen to good music,” Angel said. “We can sing hymns together.”
“We can be nice and not fight,” Ammon said.
“That’s right,” Baba said. “When we try to do what Jesus Christ taught, we invite the Holy Ghost to be with us. And He will help our home be a place where we can feel love and peace.”
Ammon thought for a minute. “You’re right, Baba. The Holy Ghost is one of the most important guests of all!”